The Barren Places

 

"Oh Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant's misery

and remember me, and not forget your servant."

―1 Samuel 1:11, NIV

 

Hannah was barren and near the point of despair. Her deepest hurt, however, did not come from her inability to conceive a child or the fact that she was one of two wives. It was not a result of being humiliated to the point of despondency or of being misunderstood. Hannah's intense pain sprang from her belief that she was forgotten―forgotten by God himself.

All of us experience times of barrenness: periods when no fruit can be seen from our toil, junctures where our lives lack direction, times when our prayers appear to go unanswered. Seasons of barrenness often give way to intervals of losing sight of God or wondering if God has lost sight of us. According to Scripture, God's eyes roam throughout the earth seeking someone whose heart is fully committed to him, yet we wonder if we are even on his radar. We expect to be betrayed by man, but God? The thought is nothing less than gut-wrenching.

Abram's wife, Sarai, is a clear-cut example of one who in her barrenness lost sight of God and his promise. Unable to make sense of her situation and God's apparent lack of concern, Sarai relied upon her maidservant to build a family for herself. Her decision produced a son, but it also birthed the unwanted companions of guilt and regret. The repercussions of her faithless decision resulted in immense pain not only for herself, but for her family and generations thereafter.

Guilt and regret are no strangers to me. I have invited them along as companions numerous times as I have tried to build a future for myself by running ahead of God and his perfect timing. Time and again, I succumb to doubt even though I have realized countless promises of God in my life. By taking matters into my own hands, I try to remedy the profuse bleeding of my heart. My decisions are driven by a fear that God has forgotten me―that my desires will be left unfulfilled―but the truth I see in Scripture contradicts my fears. Will my actions ever consistently reflect the fact that God is ever faithful to his Word and that he always makes a way in the desert?

We should be encouraged by the story of Hannah. Even though God was silent, Hannah never stopped praying and trusting his faithfulness. As a result, "The Lord remembered her."

Are you looking to someone or something other than God to build a future for yourself? Cease striving to produce your own fruit. Instead, like Hannah, continually offer up the fruit of your lips and expect your loving Father to perfect all that concerns you. He will remember you. 



The Paint Box

 

"For God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life."

―1 Thessalonians 4:7, NIV

 

I tore into the plain, brown paper, wrapping and squealed with delight as my eyes fell on a shiny tin box filled with fresh watercolor paints just begging to be placed into the hands of a young artist. Quickly, I found some paper and lost myself in my creation. It is sad that my budding artist career came years before the day of refrigerator magnets. However, my masterpieces always found a place of honor in our home.

As daughters of a professional artist, my sister and I loved nothing more than to spend the day at our father's studio, where there was always an abundant supply of paper, pencils, paints and paternal praise―everything a young Rembrandt might need. It was only natural for me to follow in my father's footsteps.

I well remember one particular day in fourth-grade art class. Our assignment: to copy a picture of a bird on a flowered tree limb. I intently set about my work, only this time I was unable to measure up to the high standards I had evidently laid out for myself. As a result I resorted to plagiarism. I discreetly laid my paper over the pattern and traced the image with meticulous strokes. Later, as my teacher held up each work of art before the class, he politely asked me if I had traced mine. Of course I answered, "No," and in my naivety, I believed I had fooled him.

Today there are instances when I am still unwilling to put in the effort required to acheive the optimal result, not only in my life's artistic expression, but its spiritual expression as well. My impatience produces halfhearted efforts and a sprint to a premature finish. Developing artistic skill takes a lifetime of dedicated study and hard work. The same is true when it comes to maturing in Christ and living out his purpose. Our Heavenly Father's standards for living a pure and holy life are high, but he has given us everything we need for life and godliness. Our approach must be intentional. Fulfilling God's vision for our lives requires prayerful time in his presence, intensive study and obedience to his word, and an earnest resolve to follow the Holy Spirit's lead. There are no shortcuts, no patterns to trace―simply his footsteps to follow.

I still have my childhood paintbox. I find it intriguing that the wells once filled with fresh, vibrant, and varied colors now all contain the same dull shade of dirty brown. The result, I am sure, of a young child artist in such a hurry to paint her masterpiece that she didn't take the time to rinse out her brush.

More than a generation later, I must ask myself, "Am I still impatiently tracing an image other than my own, or am I willing to follow the unique pattern my Father has marked out for me?"

Unshutter the Clutter

 

"Take these things away! Do not make My Father's house a house of merchandise!"―John 2:16, NKJV

 

As a child, I shared a bedroom with my older sister. She would clean up her side of the room and then "graciously" give me the things she no longer wanted. Later, when her side was neat, she would turn and fuss at me because my half was cluttered. Today, we reminisce and laugh.

 

My oldest daughter will be the first to tell you I keep a clean house―much to her chagrin while growing up. However, as I "mature" and my energy dwindles, I am frequently tempted to shutter the clutter. More times than I care to admit, I give our house a lick and a promise, and then I renege on my promise. From a visitor's vantage point, our house looks put together. Just don't open the drawers and closets, nor, heaven forbid, the attic. Doing so may resemble comedy shows of yesteryear, when opening a closet door is met with an avalanche of junk and canned laughter.

 

Today, TV reality programs, which showcase hoarders, serve as entertainment. However, hoarding is neither entertaining nor laughable. An excess of clutter in our homes may be the symptom of a deep psychological disorder. Hoarders not only cling to things of value, they cling to mounds of things which have no value at all. Most of us cannot wrap our minds around this type of thinking, and yet; the reality is, we often replicate it.

 

There are days I mentally shutter the clutter. I hang on to thoughts of no redeeming value―thoughts which in the long run will prove harmful. I shelve grievances from the past and hold on to an orderly list of offenses―all signs of a serious spiritual malady.

 

In the temple, the Scriptures tell us,  even Jesus did a bit of spring cleaning. He rid the temple of its clutter with zeal as he overturned tables and tossed out the money changers. He had zero tolerance for things that would desecrate his holy place. Zero should also be our threshold of tolerance for all that desecrates our body: the temple of the Holy Spirit.

 

Spring is the season of renewal. As the last dead leaves of winter give way to fresh buds of new growth, we too are able to shed all that reeks of death. Fling open the shutters. Reveal what is hidden; expose it to the Light. Now, BREATHE. The moment we rid our temples of sinful clutter through confession, Jesus removes it as far as the east is from the west, never to bring it up again.

A Not-So-False Alarm



"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy."

―John 10:10, NIV

 

My husband and I simultaneously rocketed from flat on our backs with combined one-half twists and landed on our feet (minus the front somersaults, thank God) like two synchronized gymnasts.

 

"Burglary! Burglary! You have violated a protected area! Leave the premises immediately!"

 

As our security system's 120-decibel scream split the tranquil night air, my eyes darted toward the clock: 1:48 a.m.―uh . . . far too early for visitors. My husband snatched his gun from its resting place and tried to shake off his grogginess. Bleary-eyed, I flipped on the outside flood lights and peered into the night's shadowy stillness. Our security system indicated the garage motion detector. My husband checked it out as I answered the 911 dispatcher's routine call.

"What's your password?"

I answered.

"Do you need assistance?"

"Not sure."

Shortly, my husband returned from the garage and shrugged. Nothing.

"It's a false alarm," I told the dispatcher. "Thank you. All seems fine."

Thirty minutes later, my husband and I lay in bed wide-eyed and still staring at the ceiling, adrenaline pumping. It would be so unlike my God not to take advantage of this opportunity to speak. Consequently, he did―of a not-so-false alarm: Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. He only comes to steal, kill, and destroy.

Spiritually, the thief will come . . . and he never drops in for a casual chat.  Satan's unwelcome visits always have a hidden agenda: to annihilate the children of God. Are we armed and ready for his covert entry? Do we set our alarms before we fall asleep?

The Holy Spirit has armed believers with weapons for spiritual warfare. But, like those who fall asleep, we often neglect to employ them. Subsequently, when our borders are violated there is no alarm to demand the intruder leave the premises. So he lingers. He rummages through the hidden crevices of our hearts and minds. He plants destructive doubt and fear. He steals all that is valuable. All may seem well on the exterior, but within . . . the thief secretly robs us of our comfort, hope, and peace.

Keeping our spiritual security system set ensures when the enemy attempts to break in, our alarms will sound, the dispatcher will call, and when asked our password, we will confidently reply: "Jesus!" 



Unshakeable



"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock."

―Matthew 7:24-26, NIV

Recently, headline news broadcast devastating accounts of a Florida sinkhole that swallowed the bedroom of a man who lay sleeping in his bed. The horror of peering into a gaping hole stretching dozens of feet into the earth knowing your loved one was its unsuspecting victim is incomprehensible to me.

Later, a couple of miles away, another sinkhole opened up. This time it caused no injury or damage, but certainly it struck fear in the hearts of town residents who began to question the solidity of the ground beneath their feet.

On average, there are five hundred thousand detectable earthquakes in the world each year. California experiences ten thousand of those tremors. As a North Carolina resident, I never question the stability of the ground upon which I walk. I take each step for granted, while those living in California, who find tremors commonplace, are lulled into a false sense of security.

Earth-shattering events sweep into our lives unannounced. As the rains pound and the winds of adversity blow, our foundations are put to the test. I many not experience the movement of the earth beneath my feet, but I do know what it is like for the bottom to drop out of my world. I suspect you do too.

I have known loneliness after the death of a loved one, sorrow in the loss of a child through miscarriage, the emotional ups and downs that come with the birth of a special-needs child, heartache over one in rebellion, helplessness in the failure of a business, fear in the face of illness . . . and adversity rages on. However, in the midst of these life altering events, I have experienced the indescribable peace and hope of God.

God's Word reminds us that unless the Lord builds the house, its builder labors in vain. As painful and unforeseen events close in, set the foundation of your life upon the solid Rock of Christ and God's Word. Know and obey it. Allow its healing balm to seep deep into the crevices of your heart and mind. Experience God's stillness.

Setting the plumb line of our soul in alignment with the wisdom of God is key to ensuring our foundation holds strong and secure in the face of crises. There is only one unshakeable foundation upon which to stand―Jesus Christ.

Sidestepping Death

 

"But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was;

and when he saw him, he took pity on him."

―Luke 10:33, NIV

 

"Have a nice day!" the woman in front of me said to the cashier as she made her way toward the door. Reaching for my wallet, I stepped up to the cash register to pay―then heard an ominous thud.

 

Moments earlier, the vibrant woman had imparted words of cheer. Now she lay motionless. Several employees rushed to her side while the visibly shaken cashier proceeded to ring up my purchase. Then, grocery bag in hand, I stepped around the commotion and walked to my car.

 

I felt horrible leaving the scene. It didn't seem right to step around scattered groceries and a dear soul's listless body so that I could move on with my day. I was morbidly struck by the ease with which my life carried on while it came to a screeching halt for another. Shouldn't I do something?

 

That day's dilemma may appear uncommon, but we step around those who are dying every day―seldom batting an eye or raising an eyebrow, much less sensing deep remorse or stopping to help those in distress. Our problem, in general, is not that we deliberately cross the road to avoid the man in the ditch. Our problem is, we never see him lying there.We engage in conversations with people continents away, while we fail to make eye contact with the person directly in front of us. The widespread malady of sin infiltrates our culture, and with stealth like accuracy snuffs out thousands of lives on a daily basis. It's a shadowy, silent killer. Am I a silent witness―or am I a witness at all?

 

The Samaritan man stopped to help his Jewish neighbor in distress. Racial barriers were no contest for his sweeping heart of mercy. He disinfected and bandaged the man's wounds, brought him to an inn, footed the bill, and took care of him. He spared no expense and was willing to give of his time and resources so a stranger's life could be restored.

 

Our day-to-day encounters with those who are hurting call for measures far less extreme, and yet we often fail to be the hands and feet of Christ. We underestimate the impact a random act of kindness, hearfelt greeting or friendly smile may have on someone's day. The parable of the Good Samaritan reveals the heart of Christ for those who are wounded, lost and dying. I must ask: What does it reveal about mine? Do I choose to sidestep death, or do I step into the gap to restore another's life?

 

The Samaritan chose wisely. The Master's words exhort us to "Go and do the same."



Souls Unglued

 

"What I tell you now in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear; shout from the housetops for all too hear." 

—Matthew 10:27, NLT

 

The first morning of Writer's Advance Boot Camp, I was almost booted to the floor. As I lunged forward, the corner of the mattress broke my fall. Boot camp coordinators had given us a charge to "Advance!" but I am relatively sure nose-diving into the carpet is not what they had in mind.

 

I looked down at my stylish black boots, the likely culprits. One sole had become unglued and now flapped precariously with each step. (Note to self: Always pack two pairs of black shoes.) I scuffed my way to the conference room hoping to remain upright, while trying to hide my fashion faux pas.

 

God never misses an opportunity to teach, and my well-ventilated shoe amplified his message for the morning. Sometimes it is good to come unglued.

 

Let's face it. It's easier to coordinate our outfits than our lives. We are not glamorous runway models depicted in flawless, airbrushed glossies. We are world-worn sojourners with a God-given platform and a call to be real. Can I really say, "God use me to share your message," and then stop short of baring my soul? Tranparency may cost us, but the soul of another is priceless. Am I willing to pay the price to affect someone's life for eternity? Christ gave his all. Can I do any less?

 

God has entrusted us with a unique ministry, and our experiences set us apart. If we remain silent, our stories will be left untold, and his will remain unheard. Who knows, baring one's soul may actually become fashionable and bring life-changing results.

 

So flap open your soul, and wear your faux pas with style. 





Wait a Moment!

"So teach us to number our days aright, that we may present to you a heart of wisdom."  Psalm 90:12, NASB

 

Millenniums, centuries, decades, years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds, nanoseconds ~ all units of time divinely ordered by God.

 

For thousands of years, man has created calendars and mechanical devices to keep track of these increments. The ancient Egyptians divided the day into two twelve-hour periods and used obelisks and sundials to track the movement of the sun across the sky. We now have astronomical clocks to gauge the movement of the heavenly bodies as well as tide clocks to monitor the ebb and flow of the lunar and solar tides. Men have created water clocks, chronometers, hourglasses, pocket watches, pendulum clocks, cuckoo clocks, quartz and atomic clocks, wristwatches, calendar watches, and stopwatches, yet, no matter how we try to control it, time never stands still, never retreats. Time is always moving forward as if on a mission.

 

There is an Irish saying, "When God made time, he made plenty of it," and yet, we lack sufficient hours in our days to complete what we perceive is necessary. We have always regarded time as something to keep up with. We identify with the White Rabbit's dilemma in Alice and Wonderland, as he scampers through life exclaiming, "I'm late. I'm late, for a very important date. No time to say 'Hello, Good-by.' I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" We scurry behind schedule, or dart ahead of it, all in an attempt to be on time. And if ever we are on time, we keep a discreet eye on the clock, for there is always another appointment to rush off to, a brand-new dream to chase, a carpool to taxi, or simply one more moment to stalk.

 

Since it debuted in 1965, the daytime soap opera Days of our Lives has featured an hourglass with sand slowly trickling to the bottom, accompanied by the trademark voice-over, "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."

 

Have you ever taken the time to number the days of your life? This year on my birthday, I was 23,360 days old. Sounds as if Methuselah is my next of kin, doesn't it? (And stop that! I know you are dividing it out to see how old I am.) According to the life expectancy calculator on the U.S. Social Security Administration's website, I can expect to live another 21.6 years, or another 7,884 days. When I look at that number in relation to how many days I have already lived, it puts my life into sobering perspective.

 

Like sand in an hourglass, our days are rapidly slipping away. We can flip an hourglass over and rerun the sands of time ~ not so with the true "days of our lives." Those sands we will never recall. Perhaps, then, we need to stop keeping track of the moments and start numbering our days "aright."

 

King Solomon avowed that God "set eternity in the hearts of men." Deeply rooted in every human heart is a continual longing for something more than this world has to offer, and yet we are incapable of fully grasping the eternal. Nothing within this physical realm will ever truly satisfy our yearning for something more. Only the eternal presence of God living deep within our hearts will bring the fulfillment we are seeking ~ fulfillment which stretches into eternity.

 

So breathe! Slow down! Take time to spend quiet moments with the Father of time. Consider the brevity of life and devote your heart to true wisdom ~ a wisdom that can only be imparted to us by his Spirit. The previous moment has passed, and the subsequent moment may never come. This moment is all we have. This moment is our life.

 

What shall I do with the next 7,884 days of my life? Stop counting and ~ live!

 

How many days do you have left to be truly productive for God? Apply your heart to true wisdom and, instead of counting the moments, make each moment count for eternity.

Knowing Perfection

 

"And God saw every thing that he had made, and behold, it was very good."  Genesis 1:31, KJV

 

Without warning, the large, burly instructor ripped the nose from my face and threw it across the room, shouting words of disapproval which I cannot recall. Perhaps at the time I was simply too frightened for them to register. Even so, my instructor's disparaging remarks left a lasting impression deep within my spirit.

 

The setting was a big-city art school in the South; the perpetrator a ruthless sculpture professor who enjoyed intimidating freshman. His target the clay head I was painstakingly laboring over; his casualty me. I was proud of my creation. And the nose ~ well, it was just about perfect, at least in my eyes. I had no clue someone might view my creation differently. Neither did I know how my view of myself and my abilities was about to change.

 

Words ~ what power they emit! Their probing tentacles pry deep into our souls, unearthing emotions we are unaware exist. Words have the capacity to change how we think, feel, and act. They have the power to uplift or the power to destroy.

 

Yet, regardless of their power, it was neither my instructor's words nor his actions that held the potential to wield the death blow to my development as an artist. Rather, it was the negative self-talk I would continue to feed my own soul. My destructive internal words began to wear away at my confidence, not only in my individual creativity, but in who I believed I was as a person. I began to second-guess myself and my abilities. My God-given potential slipped from my view. I only saw my failures. Never quite sure my work would bear up under the scrutiny of others, it became easier for me not to produce at all. I was blind to the fact that the assessment of others paled in comparison to the death sentence I was passing down to myself.

 

Elbert Hubbard, a late nineteenth-century American writer, publisher, artist, and philosopher and an influential exponent of the arts and crafts movement, stated, "The greatest mistake you can make in life is to continually be afraid you will make one."

 

Fear of failure is paralyzing. It breeds perfectionism. We hesitate to begin because we believe that, in the end, we will fail. Even when we begin, our work never measures up to our own inflexible expectations, and thus, we fail to finish. In some strange way, we find our solace there ~ never opening ourselves up to the valuation of others.  As a result, our fear of failure robs us of our destiny, holding us hostage to the lies of Satan and our own perpetual self-talk.

 

Recently, my youngest daughter was given an opportunity to "throw" a pot at a nearby potter's house. Before beginning, the instructing potter said, "Do not be afraid to mess up. It's just clay!" ~ simple, yet profound insight that bears repetition in our own spirits.  I believe the Master Potter speaks similar words: "Do not be afraid to mess up. YOU are just clay!"

 

The One who formed us understands that we are dust, and it is his valuation alone that counts. As we surrender our efforts to him, he will take our unskilled hands in his and with the skill of the Master Potter, help us to begin again.

 

Is there something you have been putting off doing because, in the end, you are afraid you will fail? Quit taking yourself so seriously. After all, you are just clay! Begin again by placing your hands in the hands of the Master Potter and partnering with the One who knows no failure. To him, your creation is perfect, and in the end, his valuation is the only one that matters.

 



A River Runs Through It

 

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you." Isaiah 43:2, NIV

 



KER-SPLASH!                     

The look of surprise on our young's daughter's face was priceless as the cold mountain stream cut its way around her tiny body. Only moments earlier, with arms outstretched to keep her balance, she  had playfully leaped from rock to rock. It looked easy enough, great fun with evenly laid out stones defining the way. Reaching the other side almost became a reality and then ~ her unexpected plunge. 

Life mimics this at times, plunging us into icy, cold waters as we make our way along what we think is a clearly defined path. It looks as if we are making notable progress, and then ~ the unexpected happens. We are taken off guard and submerged in the current of life's troubles ~ winding rivers of difficulty that eventually confront us all. There are days when we are pulled under, entrapped, dragged down by life's undertow ~ days when the current is too swift and the river far too wide to pass through. How do we navigate our way to safety? Where do we find the courage to press on?

 

The day our daughter plummeted from her path and was flooded by the icy, cold water, she didn't hesitate to cry for help . . . and help didn't hesitate to come. The same will be true for you. Cry out! God will come running.

 

"He reached down from on high and he took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me." (Psalm 18:16-17, NIV)

 

My daughter emerged wringing wet that day, but her spirit was not dampened. Her goal was still in sight; she would not be deterred. After drying off, changing into her sister's over-sized pants, and enjoying a picnic, she returned to her game. With pant legs rolled up and determination set, she plotted her way across the swiftly moving stream with slow, deliberate steps. As she planted each foot securely on the rock in front of her, her confidence grew and her fear of failure subsided. Finally, she stepped onto the opposite side, her face beaming with pride. She knew the joy of rising above what once had defeated her. Victory was hers!

 

What is blocking your pathway to victory? Does a river run through it? Do not let it defeat you! Cry out! God will come running and will plant your feet securely on the rock.

 

Now . . .  are your feet wet yet?