In My Weakness / Don't Forget

Some Sundays the Lord just seems to reach down and cover me with blessing.  Usually it happens when I'm responsible for contributing to the service in some way.  This week, I was scheduled to sing a solo.

Now, let me first clarify:  I have a love/hate relationship with singing solos.  I do not like my singing voice.  In the shower it's fabulous.  In the car even, it's not terribly objectionable. In a group, I'm great at blending with those around me.  But put me in front of anyone and have me sing by myself, and my voice devolves into that of a shy, breathless 13-year-old girl.  However, music is one of God's greatest gifts to minister to my heart.  "I sing for I cannot be silent" should be the epitaph on my tombstone.  The Lord uses music in my life to teach and admonish me so often that I cannot help but testify of Him in song.  Might as well tell my heart not to beat.  When solo time rolls around on the schedule, more often than not I've had a song in mind for weeks beforehand, one the Lord has been ever-so-gently hammering into my soul.

Yesterday's selection - "In My Weakness" - was one such song.  It's been next in line for months.  However, last time I was on the schedule, I had a really rough morning on the Sunday I was supposed to sing.  By the time we were done practicing, the pianist and I both knew I would not make it through singing that morning.  So it got postponed.  The timing was of the Lord (it always is), and yesterday my turn came 'round again. This is the first time I can remember singing a "sheet music" special - something not out of the WILDS songbook or something similar.  I have plenty I'd LOVE to sing, but my limited range eliminates most of them.

Anyway, as I was driving to church yesterday morning, the Lord and I were having a "discussion."  Once in a while, He insists that I give a testimony about the song I'm going to sing.  I don't like doing it, because by the time I'm done talking, I'm breathless and three times as nervous as I was previously.  But He insisted that was the point.  The song was about my weakness displaying His strength.  He wanted me to be "weak" when I sang, to use that to demonstrate His strength through me.  Let's just say He had plenty of weakness to work with.  ;-) 

But it was a lovely day, and a lesson most needed.  I've had a rather rough several months spiritually, but the Savior has oh-so-gently been nudging me back under His wings, comforting me with His love and chastening me with gentleness.

Another song He has been using in my life lately is "Don't Forget" from the WILDS album Come Bless the Lord.  I put it on my "2007 Sacred Favorites Mix," not really thinking it special at the time, but knowing that the words would get to me eventually.  They did.  ;-)

"Don't forget all He's done
Don't forget victories won
Don't forget in the race
He gave strength for the run
Don't forget Jesus' care
Don't forget answered prayer
Don't forget, don't forget,
You saw His hand everywhere

Remember your Lord God Jehovah
Remember how much you were changed by His Word
Forget not the days
He taught you to praise
Though hard seemed the way of the Lord
Remember how far that He took you
When He gave you a hunger to abide
Oh, don't turn Him away
He bids you to stay
Right where you belong at His side,

How the time has gone by
And the memories have died
I've forgotten the joy
When in Him I abide
How I long for the day
When His strength was my stay
Lord forgive, Lord renew,
Lord revive me today.

Remember your Lord God Jehovah
Remember how much you were changed by His Word
Forget not the days
He taught you to praise
Though hard seemed the way of the Lord
Remember how far that He took you
When He gave you a hunger to abide
Oh, don't turn Him away
He bids you to stay

Though gone be your song
The weak or the strong
Stay where you belong at His side.
Don't forget.  Don't forget."

National Singleness Awareness Day

Yeah, so I completely ignored National Singleness Awareness Day, aka Valentine's Day. Trust me, it was better that way for anyone in my vicinity.

However, today brought across my path an amusing article by one of my favorite singletons, Camerin Courtney. The article - "The Ad Copy of Coupledom" is a delightfully funny and light-hearted look at dating services.

Favorite quote: "...we're prone to be looking around at the chocolate-and-jewelry-exchanging couples of the world and feel a bit one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other-y."

Energy Boost

Mondays have never been my strong point.  In fact, Sunday nights after church tend to be a crash-and-burn for me emotionally.  Sundays are often the highlight of my week, and when they're over, and I face the next day at work, I can end up very low by the time I get home from services.  That usually carries into and through most of Monday.  This week was no different.  I had a lethargic, completely unproductive day, and left work feeling dejected and a complete failure.

At the beginning of this year, I joined the Athens Master Chorale, admittedly with a bit of trepidation.  My schedule tends to be tight these days, and I was concerned that the addition of a weekly evening commitment might be irresponsible of me.  But I have found it to be a blessing over the last few weeks.  It keeps me from crashing at the end of a Monday, forces me to get out of myself and interact with people outside my regular sphere.

And last night it was a special blessing.  The music is very challenging, and by the end of rehearsal, I was energized, excited, and ready to accomplish something.  Instead of going home and planting myself on the couch for the rest of the evening, I managed to do some much-needed basic straightening around the house.  I even had my devotions, something I've been really struggling to accomplish in recent weeks.

Athens Master Chorale practically "fell into my lap."  When the opportunity first presented itself, I felt like it was a gift from the Lord.  It had been so obvious a providential "coincidence" that I even heard about the auditions that I felt like I had an obligation to at least try.  I'm so glad now that I did.  The outlet has proven a significant blessing.

Our Consolation

"For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ." 2 Corinthians 1:5

There is a blessed proportion. The Ruler of Providence bears a pair of scales-in this side he puts his people's trials, and in that he puts their consolations. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of consolation in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trials is full, you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy. When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the tempest is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to his crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart-he finds it full-he begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this-then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: when the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But once take our gourds away, and we want our God; once cleanse the idols out of the house, then we are compelled to honour Jehovah. "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord." There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies.
~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Timing

Timing is everything.  Ever notice that?  As a Christian and a firm believer in God's sovereign providence, I am continually amazed at how the world seems to have no trouble accepting the things that happen to and around them as nothing more than random coincidence.  The reality of how events are orchestrated for us is demonstrated in both positive and negative ways in the life of a believer.

For example, I have been dwelling recently on trusting God in my circumstances - all of them.  I've never really felt like I didn't trust that God was working for my good and His glory, but I've certainly been demonstrative in my dissatisfaction with just how He seems to be accomplishing it over recent months.  So lately I've been praying that the Lord would humble me and grant me a more submissive attitude to every aspect of His plan for me.  And when I began really meditating on and praying toward that purpose, I began encountering all kinds of contributions to that theme, the most recent of which is the fact that Sunday night, Pastor is preaching on "Sovereignty and Circumstances."  I can't wait!  (Which reminds me - be sure to pack kleenexes on Sunday.)

But Satan too seems to know when God is having the victory in my life.  And it never seems to fail that as soon as I begin to get firm hold on some aspect of my faith again, he brings across my path some form of temptation he knows is usually effective in convincing me to fall.  After which I feel defeated, worthless, and completely unusable to the Lord - until through His love and His Word He patiently brings me back under His wings, as I confess, repent, and allow Him to comfort and cleanse me once more.

Today, as is often the case, I am grateful for God's frequent reminders of the fleeting nature of this life.  We are but grass - here today, gone tomorrow, and then all of eternity with Him.

The Untamable Tongue

Ever have one of those days when it seems like everything you do is the wrong thing, every time you open your mouth something comes out that shouldn't have, every time you turn around you find something you should have done two weeks ago...

*sigh* I'm okay. Just wanting to vent and knowing that venting would mean saying unkind things and not improve my attitude. It's so hard to know what is okay to talk about and ask advice about, and what is just me whining. On the one hand, I can so easily drop into griping and complaining, but on the other hand I really don't know how I'm supposed to deal with some of this stuff. Sometimes I just wish someone would TELL me I'm making a big deal out of nothing, so then I'd KNOW the problem is all mine. And then I think of someone like a lady in my church, who just lost her husband and is going through so much pain and difficulty, and I'm ashamed of myself for even thinking my petty issues are worth constantly chewing on.

Went out to lunch with some of my co-workers today, and we all sat around "discussing" the older folks in our lives (and I'm sure you know exactly the kind of "discussion" I'm talking about). And just ... the longer the conversation went on, the worse I felt. How much of it was really necessary? What were we accomplishing? How do I learn to be gracious with my speech? I mean, if I thought people were sitting around talking about me somewhere like we were talking, I think I'd just crumple. No wonder old people get defensive. Sometimes it must seem to them that we think they can't do anything right anymore.

How can I be helpful instead of harmful? How do I build up instead of tearing down? HOW, when they make the one so easy and the other so difficult? I've been listening to a sermon series from James, and the speaker points out that the cure for the untamable tongue is not to be quiet. Because what comes out of the mouth is evidence of what's in the heart. Being quiet is just hiding the evidence, not fixing the problem. It's the heart that has to change. So what is in my heart that's causing me to speak unkindly? I need to sit down and work through this. I may not be able to change the actions of others, but I can pray the Lord will make me able to respond to them in a way that glorifies Him, is loving and kind, and doesn't focus on myself. Whatever they're doing, if I'm sinning with my tongue or having a bad attitude as a result, there is something wrong in my own heart.

It's Not About Me

I've just finished my second turn through Max Lucado's book, It's Not About Me. I do not agree with his positions on every point of doctrine, but he often puts the Christian walk in its proper perspective with simple, direct language and application. This book has been an especially poignant reminder to me about the preeminence of God.

The last chapter has a delightful illustration that I couldn't resist adding to my blog:

"So, you like Jewish authors?"

The fellow asking the question sat on the aisle seat. I had the window, which meant I had a view of the runway. The mechanical crew was repairing a bird dent on the wing. While they worked, I read. As I read my Bible, the rabbi interrupted.

"So, you like Jewish authors?"

The twinkle in his eye betrayed his pleasure in the question. His chest-length mop of a beard couldn't hide his smile. I had spotted him earlier in the waiting area. The tassels from his shirttail and hair-clipped yarmulke led me to peg him as the pious, silent type.

Pious. Yes. But silent? He loved to talk. He loved to talk Torah. I was in for a lesson. Tucked away in the ceremonies and laws of Moses, he explained, are pictures of God. Who could offer a sacrifice and not weep for God's grace? Who could read about servants redeeming their kinsmen and not think about God redeeming us? And who could read the third commandment without remembering to live for God's glory?

I signaled a time-out, opened to Exodus, and read the third command: "You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain" (20:7). My puzzled expression was enough to request an explanation.

"Don't think language; think lifestyle," he instructed. "The command calls us to elevate the name or reputation of God to the highest place. We exist to give honor to his name. May I illustrate?"

By now the damaged wing was fixed (the plane's; can't speak for the bird). And as we gained altitude, so did the rabbi. I took notes. He proceeded to create a story involving a Manhattan skyscraper. Everyone in the building works for the CEO, who offices on the top floor. Most have not seen him, but they have seen his daughter. She works in the building for her father. She exploits her family position to her benefit.

One morning she approaches Bert, the guard. "I'm hungry, Bert. Go down the street and buy me a Danish."

The demand places Bert in a quandary. He's on duty. Leaving his post puts the building at risk. But his boss's daughter insists, "Come on, now; hurry up."

What option does he have? As he leaves, he says nothing but thinks something like, If the daughter is so bossy, what does that say about her father?

She's only getting started. Munching on her muffin, she bumps into a paper-laden secretary. "Where are you going with all those papers?"

"To have them bound for an afternoon meeting."

"Forget the meeting. Come to my office and vacuum the carpet."

"But I was told..."

"And I'm telling you something else."

The woman has no choice. After all, this is the boss's daughter speaking. Which causes the secretary to question the wisdom of the boss.

And on the daughter goes. Making demands. Calling shots. Interrupting schedules. Never invoking the name of her dad. Never leveraging her comments with, "My dad said..."

No need to.

Isn't she the boss's child? Doesn't the child speak for the father? And so Bert abandons his post. An assistant fails to finish a task. And more than one employee questions the wisdom of the man upstairs. Does he really know what he's doing? they wonder.

The rabbi paused here. We both felt the plane nosing downward. His remaining time was short. But his point was clear. The girl dishonored the name of her father, not with vulgar language, but with insensitive living. Keep this up and the whole building will be second-guessing the CEO.

But my traveling partner wasn't finished. He scratched his bearded chin and lifted both eyebrows as he proposed, "But what if the daughter acted differently?" and then proceeded to recast the story.

Rather than demand a muffin from Bert, she brings a muffin to Bert. "I thought of you this morning," she explains. "You arrive so early. Do you have time to eat?" And she hands him the gift.

En route to the elevator she bumps into a woman with an armful of documents. "My, I'm sorry. Can I help?" the daughter offers. The assistant smiles, and the two carry the stacks down the hallway.

And so the daughter engages the people. She asks about their families, offers to bring them coffee. New workers are welcomed, and hard workers are applauded. She, through kindness and concern, raises the happiness level of the entire company.

She does so not even mentioning her father's name. Never does she declare, "My father says..." There is no need to. Is she not his child? Does she not speak on his behalf? Reflect his heart? When she speaks, they assume she speaks for him. And because they think highly of her, they think highly of her father.

They've not seen him.

They've not met him.

But they know his child, so they know his heart.

By now the flight was ending, and so was my Hebrew lesson. Thanks to the rabbi, the third command shouldered new meaning. Paul, another rabbi, would have appreciated the point. He wrote: "We are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making an appeal through us" (2 Corinthians 5:20). The ambassador has a singular aim - to represent his king. He promotes the king's agenda, protects the king's reputation, and presents the king's will. The ambassador elevates the name of the king. ...

May God rescue us from self-centered thinking. May we have no higher goal than to see someone think more highly of our Father, our King. After all, it's not about... well, you can finish the sentence.

"You know how the story ends?" the rabbi asked as we were taxiing to a stop. Apparently, he had a punch line.

"No, I don't. How?"

"The daughter takes the elevator to the top floor to see her father. When she arrives, he is waiting in the doorway. He's aware of her good works and has seen her kind acts. People think more highly of him because of her. And he knows it. As she approaches, he greets her with six words."

The rabbi paused and smiled.

"What are they?" I urged, never expecting to hear an orthodox Jew quote Jesus.

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

May God sustain you until you hear the same.

Silly celebrations

I finished a pen last night.

And you say, "Um, yeah. And?"

See, I have this thing with pens. (Actually, I have a lot of "things," only several of which have to do with pens. ) One of these is that I like to use them up. Dry 'em out. Make all the ink go away. That type of thing. There's some sort of subconscious sense of accomplishment and closure in seeing the ink level reach zero. If it's been a good pen, I take a moment to be just a teensy bit sad. If it's been a frustrating pen, and I've still managed to stick out using it up (which doesn't always happen), there's a moment of triumph, of giddily sending the empty barrel to its demise.

THAT was the case last night. The pen wrote fairly well, but it took FOREVER to use up and just kind of drained its life away in the process. Very annoying. A good pen writes top quality until it dies. This was NOT a good pen. Neither was it a bad pen, though, which is why I bit the bullet and used it up anyway. And that made throwing it away last night ever so satisfying.

Hence my delighted declaration: "I finished a pen last night."

New Wednesday format

Can't wait!

For the last several years, our Wednesday night Bible study format has been for Pastor to answer a question someone either puts in his "question box" or just writes down and gives him. Well, last night he announced that after the "homework assignment," he got so much positive feedback that we're going to try something a little more interactive on Wednesday nights.

I'm thrilled, and amazed yet again at how the Lord so intimately knows my needs. As long as I really needed to be able to ask questions anonymously, the opportunity was there. The Lord walked me through learning to be willing to open up and admit my mental shortcomings (no surprise to anyone else but me ) - less before men, though, and more before God. He had to put me in my place - like with Job, only much worse. I had to realize that I am never going to understand Him completely, and that's okay. I need to let Him be Who He is, which is bigger and more complex than I will ever hope to get my brain around.

But lately, I've really been craving something topical - to pick an issue and put it to the test biblically. That is WILD coming from me, as for a long time I have been almost strictly expositional in my preferences. I still am for the most part, but I need something practical to stretch myself with, and the proposed new format is something I think will do that. Pastor said he's considering focusing on the wisdom literature - Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations, etc. - and suggesting a topic for us to tackle during the week on our own and come prepared to discuss. For example, spend a few weeks dealing with how the concept of foolishness is treated in Proverbs.

I. Can't. Wait.

The heart of the world dances

Many thanks to Emily for bringing this quote to my attention. From C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces:

"And my struggle was this. You may well believe that I had set out sad enough; I had come on a sad errand. Now, flung at me like frolic or insolence, there came as if it were a voice--no words--but if you made it into words it would be, "Why should my heart not dance?" It's the measure of my folly that my heart almost answered "Why not?" I had to tell myself over like a lesson the infinite reasons my heart had not to dance. My heart to dance? Mine, whose love was taken from me, I, who must never look for other love, the drudge of the King, the jailer of hateful Redival, perhaps to be murdered or turned out as a beggar when my father died--for who knew what Glome would do then? And yet, it was a lesson I could hardly keep in my mind. The sight of the huge world put mad ideas into me, as if I could wander away, wander forever, see strange and beautiful things, one after the other to the world's end. The freshness and wetness all about me made me feel that I had misjudged the world; it seemed kind, and laughing, as if its heart also danced..."