Adoration

You are the sun.
I am the moon.
I am a cold, hard rock in frigid space.
You are the blazing brightness Who gives light and warmth.
I am pocked and pitted with empty craters.
You are full of power and lovingkindness.
I am dusty, dry and lifeless.
You are the Giver of Life.
You are my life's center.
I revolve around you, reflecting your light to humankind.
Your radiance reflects from my face
Giving me a quiet beauty that is not my own.
You cleanse my impurities.
I shine pure in the darkness.
While I wax and wane in your light,
You are ever faithful.
I am the moon.
You are the sun.

Only God Can Tame a Tongue

"Watch your tongue,"
My mother said.
"If you can't say something nice,
Say nothing at all,"
Was the counsel of my dad.
I tried to obey,
But the words still gushed out,
Cruel, hard, angry words.
Only God can tame a tongue.

"Watch your tongue,"
Said my teacher.
"Like sticks and stones,
Words CAN break bones."
I knew she was right,
But the hard words still flowed.
Only God can tame a tongue.

Restless evil,
Deadly poison,
Set on fire by hell itself.
Only God can tame a tongue.

The strength of horses is controlled by man"s bit,
The course of a ship by a rudder directed.
A spark can ignite a raging forest fire,
But only God can tame a tongue.
Man's best friend can be trained to do tricks.
And pigeons can learn to bring messages home.
Dolphins are trained.
Even snakes can be charmed.
But only God can tame man's tongue.

Restless evil,
Deadly poison,
Set on fire by hell itself.
Only God can tame a tongue.

Then I decided,
I made up my mind.
No words, good or bad
Would escape my mouth.
I'd bite my tongue
And walk in silence
To stop the torrent, that painful foul flow
But silence was shattered
In the heat of transgression
Only God can tame a tongue.

Restless evil,
Deadly poison,
Set on fire by hell itself.
Only God can tame a tongue.

Then I read the words of the Master.
From heart's overflow gush the words of the mouth.
And I understood,
He works from the depths,
What pours in is what pours out, so
Let His words sink in to fill up my life.
Let His thoughts pour down to fill up my mind.
Then let joy bubble forth from the springs of my being.
I'll receive His blessings and speak of thanksgiving.
I'll observe His ways and speak praise to God.
I'll speak of delight in the sun and the rain.
I'll seek God's pleasure and I won't be silent.
I'll trust His Presence and Faithfulness in pain.

I still may stumble and fall in my efforts.
He offers forgiveness if I will confess.
I'm only human. I won't seek perfection,
But my perseverance will pass the test.
With God's grace and mercy
My tongue can be softened.
I cannot tame it all by myself,
But filled with His goodness
And with my submission
My God can tame my tongue.

This comes after my reading of James 3, Psalm 39, and Matthew 12:34-35.

A Day at the Beach

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.  But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.  That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord.  Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do. (James 1:5-8 NIV)

In my adulthood, a trip to the beach is a special treat reserved for a week in the summertime, but growing up the child of missionaries on an island in the South Pacific, a trip to the beach was a weekly occurrence.  After homeschool every Monday, we would load up our white Greenbriar Van with the horizontal red stripe and the Matthews' Toyota Land Rover and with joyful chatter we would navigate our way over the roller-coaster, unpaved roads to the beach.  The closer we got, the deeper the craters left by the torrential tropical rains.  We laughed hilariously as we were jostled up, down, and all around in the writhing cars.  The last stretch of the road twisted and lurched through a grove of tall, stately coconut palms, through which we craned our necks to catch the first breathtaking glimpse of the sapphire blue of the ocean horizon.  When the cars came to rest, parked under the palms at the top of the black sandy beach, already dressed in our swimwear, we tumbled out eagerly, grabbed our inner tubes, and raced gingerly over the hot dry sand to run with glee on the cooler moist sand at the water's edge.  We stood in the surf with the ocean lapping at our ankles, pulling the sand out from under our heels and toes, beckoning us into its pleasures.  We weren't allowed to make the plunge until our fathers were ready to go with us.  First they had to carry the ice chests to the bamboo hut shelters where our mothers would prepare our cookout supper as they oversaw our play from a distance.  Then with inner tubes around our middles, we waddled splashing and shrieking into the cool water until the first swell of ocean wave picked us up.  I can still feel my breath catch in my chest as I was lifted into the arms of the ocean.

We floated up and down, always looking toward the horizon for the next gentle wave, screaming with delight as it carried us.  Oh, we would glance back toward the beach to see if our moms were watching our fun, but we did not take our eyes off the billows for long, because every now and then a wave would break before it reached us.  When that happened, we could do nothing but take a deep breath and hold it as the swirling water tumbled over our heads, tossing us out of our inner tubes, twisting and turning us like a handkerchief in a washing machine.  Usually I floated easily to the surface, spluttering and laughing as I retrieved my inner tube, but I remember vividly the times when the terrible force of the tempest tossed me longer than my lungs could endure.  In panic I would kick my feet seeking air, only to find that I was pushing myself down toward the ocean floor rather than up into the atmosphere.  Realizing my confusion, I would push hard against the sandy bottom and kick my feet to burst out of the foamy water, hungrily gulping for oxygen. 

That panic, that confusion is what comes to mind when I read that "the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind".  To ask for God's wisdom, but doubt His faithful answer is to find myself twisted and turning and so discombobulated that I end up bumping my head on the ocean floor.  Do I really have to find the bottom before I can get my bearing to push back to the surface of His faithful provision?  Why do I doubt Him when Scripture already confirms that, "If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5 NIV)". Doesn't that mean that if I ask for wisdom, I will get wisdom?  But a friend of mine pointed out that it probably does not mean that I get to decide whether or not I want to accept the wisdom when it comes.  She urged that if I ask for wisdom it is with the predisposition to obey whatever wisdom demands.  Otherwise, I will find myself swirling in the ocean waves of confusion.  God is Faithful.  I can rest in Him like I used to float in the inner tube on the ocean swells.

We played in the water until our fingers and toes had turned prunish and our swimsuits were full of salty sand.  Then we dragged our inner tubes up the beach to the bamboo huts to eat hamburgers and hot dogs roasted over an open flame.  No more shrieks and screams as we sat around the picnic table listening to the stories of our missionary parents' experiences in the barrio.  We sat wrapped in warm dry towels, with our heads rested on our arms until our eyelids grew heavy and we drifted into quiet slumber.  I don't remember much about the trips home from the beach.  I don't remember being jostled through the craterous holes.  I was resting peacefully in my parents' loving care.

Surely God's gift of wisdom, when I submit to receive it, brings a peace even greater than a day at the beach.

Reflections

For the first time in about a week, the sun was shining in the sky today, prompting me to think of all the offerings light brings.  At the same time I was reflecting on the joy it brought to watch my little granddaughter spinning in circles in the kitchen.  The two thoughts merged and this is what came out.  Does it mean anything?  Yes, it means that the blessings of God prompted some delight in word play.

She throws back her head,
Slings out her arms
And twirls,
Hair flying, skirt in a parasol-swirl.
She spins in joyful dizziness,
In laughter from the depths
Sending explosions of
Iridescent jewels
Sparkling to infinity.
The reflection of her joy
Fills life with energy
To grow
To follow once darkened paths
Now shimmering
With dewdrops fresh
In early haze with a rosy blush
She whispers that it's time to rise.
Now golden rims outline purple clouds,
Now sky is a baby blue blanket
Wrapped around all who scurry to busy-ness.
Spinning to noonday
To nurture and nourish needy souls
Her fiery temper sends the weak
Into hiding.
Then flitting to the backyard
To play with shadows in the snow,
She calls us home for day's end
And family-time.
She sings a dusky lullaby
To tuck us in
To rest and  dream of a thankful tomorrow.

Sitting Under My Mango Tree

January 12, 2013

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:17 NIV)

Last night, as a reward for enduring a week of frenetic activity, I crawled into bed with a good book and some peaceful music.  I heard a phrase in one song about sitting under a mango tree.  I don't remember what the rest of the song was about.  Just that phrase caught my attention, because I realized that some of my favorite childhood times were spent sitting under my mango tree.  It seems so far off now, but the picture of peace painted by the lyricist was actually a part of my childhood experience.  There was sweet peace there.  Long, lazy afternoons were spent perched in the branches radiating out from the central trunk of my mango tree.  There were two levels that I could climb to nesting places, and from my nest I could overlook my whole domain like a queen gazing down benevolently on her queendom.  If I chose to pluck a leaf and tear it, the sticky sap had the fresh pungent aroma of ripening mangoes.  That tree comforted me in so many ways; it smelled good, it was easy to climb, it provided lush shade from the tropical sun, and it was a haven, a hiding place when I just needed some quiet.  Birds sang to me from the upper branches and insects buzzed, providing the background trills that said that my life was sparkling with the magic of God's smile.

A favorite pastime was to lean far forward from my second-story perch, grab the lower branches of my nurse tree, and swing down to the ground.  It was almost like flying.  When we played hide-and-seek, the mango tree was base.  The swing set was nestled in its cool shade.  The grass underneath tickled my bare feet softly.

Sometimes I sat with my back against her solid trunk, sheltered from the sunshine, reading my mystery or writing in my notebook, when suddenly the sky would grow dark and foreboding.  In surprise I would gather my belongings for a quick escape to my dry house before the monsoon rains poured from the storm cloud that obscured the sun, making a chilling, threatening shadow, but then the shadow would blow past and the warm sunshine would once again kiss the earth.  I would spread out to read and write some more, or I would go swing on my swing.  Another shadow would threaten rain, then sunshine warmed the earth.  Shadow. . . sun . . . shadow . . . sun . . . shadow, then the winds would blow the heaviest clouds over, pouring out sudden buckets of rainwater, watering my tree and drenching me and my books, if I did not escape soon enough.

That is the memory that attaches itself to this verse.  God is the Giver of good gifts, like my mango tree and my books, and my good, dry house . . . and the warm tropical rains.  He is not changeable like those shifting shadows.  He is faithful and good, and He pours buckets of enduring love on my life forever.

Perseverance Must Finish Its Work?

January 7, 2013

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking  anything."  James 1:2-4 NIV

I just cannot get away from this passage lately.  I keep coming back to it again and again, looking at it from different angles, fighting it, trying to come to terms with it.  I don't claim to fully understand it yet.  I am wrestling with it.  Perseverance . . . endurance must be something very important in the Christian faith, and the pathway to perseverance is (sigh) testing and trials.  It appears it is not enough to just accept those tests and trials, either.  I am supposed to consider them pure joy.  I can do it in theory, in my better moments, but in practice . . . I fail!  A major bomb!  Ka-plooey!

So I pick myself up off my hands and knees.  I take a deep breath, and try again.  What is the work of perseverance, anyway?  I can see that the result is to make me mature and complete, not lacking anything, but what, exactly does that mean?

I notice that in my Bible I have scribbled "Amos 4" next to this passage.  When I flipped over to see what it said, I found where I had jotted James 1:2-5 next to verse 6.  It says, "I gave you empty stomachs in every city and lack of bread in every town, yet you have not returned to me," declares the LORD."  Empty stomachs and lack of bread would certainly be trials, and the work of those trials is to urge me to return to the LORD . . .  Oh.

I would like to think that I am following The Lord wholeheartedly, but if I am absolutely honest with myself, my perseverance has not yet finished its work.  I follow more in spurts.  I wish it were not so, but I still have a long way to go to get to mature and complete lacking nothing.

It reminds me of the story my Mama tells about when my little sister was not finishing her math papers.  She was in second grade, I think.  The teacher would assign about 20 problems.  My sister would do the first 10 flawlessly.  Then she would doodle on or tear the paper between the problems that were left, leaving them blank.  Naturally, the teacher requested a conference with my parents.  Their creative solution was to show my sister the importance of a job well done and complete.  Their first attempt was to give her half-cooked french fries, golden brown on the outside, crunchy and raw within.  She liked them that way!  They had to make their point, so they tried serving her half-cooked pancakes, golden brown on the underside, raw on top.  That got her attention.

I guess I have been too satisfied with my half-cooked french fry faith.  I go to church regularly, have a daily quiet time, I try to walk with The Lord, but I get side-tracked when I grumble and complain, when I fail to be thankful for the many blessings He pours out on me.

Ann Voskamp, the best-selling author of One Thousand Gifts - A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are points out that we enter His gates with thanksgiving.  She suggests keeping a written list of the blessings, the gifts He gives, and practicing thanksgiving by intentionally giving thanks for at least one thousand gifts in a year.  She says that thanksgiving brings joy into a life.  I have taken her Joy Dare.  We'll see how it goes.  It seems to be such a simple adjustment to collect at least three things for which I am thankful each day.  Could it really make a change in my french fry faith?  We will see.  If you would like to read more about Ann's challenge, check out her writing and her videos at aholyexperience.com .

I probably have a much longer path to travel to get to a mature and complete faith, but for now I am looking at the uncooked pancakes on my plate and realizing that thanksgiving is lacking in my life.  I am very thankful that God leads me step by step, and that He understands my need for baby steps on His pathway.  I am thankful that He holds my hand and coaxes me along the way.  I want to be mature and complete, lacking nothing, so I suppose I had better work on my perseverance.  Here goes . . . !

Vaccination Time

January 5, 2013

My brothers and sisters,  consider it nothing but joy  when you fall into all sorts of trials,   because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.   And let endurance have its perfect effect, so that you will be perfect and complete, not deficient in anything. (James 1:2-4 NET)

"Oh, don't pray for patience for me!  Praying for patience will bring me more trials!"  That is our quip during morning prayer-time at my school because another translation of that phrase is - "knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. " (James 1:3 NKJV). We don't want others to pray for patience for us, because that will bring us all sorts of problems in our classrooms.  We are almost superstitious about it, not trusting our Loving Heavenly Father to give us the good and perfect gifts that will make us mature and complete.  We are like children dreading the vaccinations that will keep us free from deadly illnesses.

I remember the dread in my heart when Mama and Daddy would load my sister and me in the car to go to the health department to get shots in preparation for our missionary journey to the Philippines.  There was not a brave bone in my body as I anticipated the sting of the needle penetrating my flesh and the burn of the thick medicine as it oozed between my muscles.  It seemed all bad to me.  I could not understand why my parents would subject their dear children to such pain.  I cried.  i kicked and screamed.  I begged and pleaded to be excused from each round of shots, but they would not relent.  They understood the dangers that faced us without that preventative medicine, dangers that I could not even begin to comprehend.  They were taking their precious daughters to a third world country.  They had to prepare us so that we could endure in a place where we would wade in the waters of flooded canals, where we would eat unknown food, (Well, not much since I was a finicky eater.) and where we would breathe tainted air.  They had to prepare us, even though it caused us pain.  They were preventing suffering that could have been much worse.  Still I have no clue how bad it could have been, because they made me get those shots.

Our Heavenly Father knows, too, what I am going to have to face in a dangerous sin-filled world, and He knows how to equip me to endure.  The trials that He allows are probably preventative medicine to protect me from unknown dangers that I would face.  I still resist, cry, . . . okay, I even kick and scream sometimes, but He knows what is best for me, and in my nobler moments, I pray He will not relent.  After all, Scripture says,       "the person who endures to the end will be saved." (Matthew 24:13 NET).  It causes me to wonder what horrors would have awaited me without the testing that He has allowed.  No, I don't want to know.  I will just choose to trust Him.

Now that is an interesting thought.  I almost missed it.  Endurance has something to do with being saved.  Saved from what?  Saved from worse temptations?  Saved from physical harm?  Saved from . . . hell?  Not that there is anything I can do to merit my salvation.  Even my enduring depends on The Lord Jesus, but there must be something crucial about it, for it to be mentioned.  This I know:  I need to endure because I follow an enduring Lord.  His faithfulness endures.  His righteousness endures, and repeatedly the Scriptures tell us that his love endures forever.

Give thanks to the  Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. (Psalm 107:1 NIV)

Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever. (Psalm 111:3 NIV)

Your faithfulness continues through all generations; you established the earth, and it endures. (Psalm 119:90 NIV)

If I let the trials have their way in my life and I learn to endure, I will be in very good company, because I serve an excellent and enduring God.  It is worth the momentary discomfort to follow Him for Eternity.  I will try to be brave, but would it still be okay if I screw up my face and look the other way?

Consider It Pure Joy!

January 4, 2013

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. . . . " James 1:2-5 NIV

Are you kidding me?  I am supposed to consider it joy when I have to sit in construction traffic for two hours on my way to meet my grandson?  Two hours of waiting, not moving, and I am supposed to chalk it up as joy?

Breathe.  Open up your i-Pad and read or play games.  Talk to your husband.  Breathe again.  You'll see.  I am there for you.

I did.  I played, and talked, and breathed, and read, and breathed some more.  The sun went down on the snowy Texas roadway.  I was glad to be in a heated car.  The company was good.  My husband and I enjoy time together.  We know how to be quiet together, even in a long line of semis and holiday travelers.  We know how to laugh and entertain one another with memories.  Two hours was not unbearable.  But when the trial was over darkness had settled and we were ready for a motel room.  We pulled in to the first motel.

No room.

We pulled into the second motel.  Husband went to inquire while I waited in the locked car.  Time passed.  The car grew chilly.  I pulled on a jacket and waited hopefully.  Husband returned saying that we had gotten the next to the last room.  "The manager said that the rooms are filling up because the power is still out closer to Little Rock.  We are lucky to have a room."

It wasn't luck.  It was grace.  Two hours waiting in holiday and construction traffic had slowed us down just enough to keep us in a place where there was a room available.  Consider it pure joy!  Grace poured down on these holiday travelers.   Thank you, Lord, for your Presence and protection.  Thank you for grace, even in the waiting.  I am beginning to learn to consider it pure joy when I experience trials.