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iron-sharpens-iron

A coffee date to discuss ‘mom stuff’ left me feeling … sharpened.

Proverbs 27:17 tells us,

“as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” 

As I sat and listened to her speak, I heard the words, the voice, the language of my heart.

We talked about the wild and wonderful realities of parenthood, and life. We discussed our greatest struggles and our blessings. We laughed, agonized and were very real with each other.

It was that, being very real with each other, that sharpened my focus.

It is hard to make and create relationships that are real, that any topic can be discussed, and that it can be discussed honestly. To listen to someone speak, and know that you do not have to be guarded with your response is a most fulfilling experience.

To know that there is no elephant standing in the room … that is intimacy.

Did I mention that we had never spoken, beyond common greetings?

As I drove away from the coffee shop, I felt that I had been sharpened, that what is most important in my heart had been polished off, made more visible to my own eyes.

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Sometimes I revert back into my childhood … okay, often, often I revert back into my childhood.

As the days slowly moved along last week, I could feel it approaching like a freight train … the coming of Spring Break.

My days would alter between fatigue and strong indicators of ADHD. It was like the nesting phase of a pregnancy, when a woman gets restless in body and mind and so keeps herself busy with (often over-the-top) preparations for what is to come.

It was not a time of unproductively, but of distractibility, anticipation and restlessness.

My mind was dreaming of one thing … rest.

So, how did I spend my first day of rest? Well, I sanded a dresser of course.

It’s a dresser I have been hired to paint, and I couldn’t wait to get at it. Actually, I have a dresser, a dining table and a corner shelf that are part of that order. I also have three chairs, a bed table and maybe even more furniture that I hope to refinish over the break.

Rest?

Ah, yes. That is rest for me. It is rest for my soul.

To have the freedom to utilize the creative side of my brain.

To work to the silence of the space.

To hear only the voice of God.

To see transformation occur at my hands.

This is rest for my restless soul.

“Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.”
Psalm 62:5-8

 

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I LOVE to be proven wrong … especially when it means that something better than I had imagined is the truth.

There was a day, last week, when I was delightfully wrong.

A student came up to me and asked if he could interview his mom for a project. At this point, two things went through my mind … one I thought, and the other I spoke.

The one I thought, but didn’t say was, “what the heck have you been doing for the month you have had to work on this project?”

The one I thought-through, and actually voiced was, “of course, but you do realize you will have to be ready to present your project by no later than next Tuesday?”

He nodded his head, in full confidence … I smiled, turned my back and rolled my eyes, as I walked down the hallway, doubtful.

Two days later, he raised his hand and said he would be ready to present.

I felt nauseous … very nauseous.

You see, when we, as Educational Assistants, walk through the educational process with a student, their assignments becomes our assignments. Their successes or failures can easily become our successes and failures.

So he stood up, and began to share, not just what he discovered by interviewing his mom, but a fantastic slide show, and his own story about the diagnosis that was his, and how it has affected his life.

Now, this could sound sad, except that he credited his mom (and dad) for helping him to overcome the struggles he was born into and with. He expressed thanks for giving him, not only a home, but a family and hope for the future.

He not only revealed truth, but told how the truth of the Bible had set him free, through the love and devotion of his parents who chose to live out the love of God, by choosing to love and care for him.

I have known this young man for about eight years. I remember (as his peers who heard his presentation) him cowering under a desk, sobbing. I remember his fears, his lack of confidence in his abilities.

But this day, a brave and confident young man, got up in front of his peers, and told the truth about his life.

And freedom reigned.

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broken-home

I remembered a song that I heard often as a young child recently, and the chorus went:

“For united we stand. Divided we fall
And if our backs should ever be against the wall
We’ll be together, Together, you and I”

The song came to my mind as I was reading a news report last weekend that had me dismayed as a follower of Christ, when I read the headline “Christians collide …”.

My dismay was not that Christians might “collide” or disagree, for we do not all agree on all things, much like not at Jews, or Muslims, or Catholics or Atheists agree on all things.  My dismay was that it was broadcast in the public forum, because the Christians themselves took it there.

And so I gulped, and was reminded of what it is to “grieve the Holy Spirit of God” (Ephesians 4:30), for, as James 4:11-12 (MSG) reminds us:

“Don’t bad-mouth each other, friends.
It’s God’s Word, his Message, his Royal Rule,
that takes a beating in that kind of talk.”

How like children tattling on each other we must sound to God when we go to a public forum about our grievances with each other. Even the most valid complaints have negative impacts on our representation of Christ for the unbelievers in our world.

We honour God when we are united with Him, and with each other.

A good reminder, as groups of believers, as well as for myself in my relationships.

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Our dog is the best indicator that the doorbell is about to ring. Heck, some days, he is the best indicator that the doorbell of any house on our block is about to ring!

And so, our barking doorbell started as lights from a vehicle drifted into our living room.

When the door opened people poured in.

It was sometime mid evening, hubby had just gotten home after a day of church, meetings and a visit to the hospital … after a Saturday at meetings that were a source of stress and disappointment.

Aka, people pouring into the house were not the desired end to the weekend.

After they all sat down, they revealed their intent for coming to our house … they wanted to pray for us.

Five individuals who vary in age from seventeen to early thirties. Five peers of our own kids, who have attended youth group as a participant, or as a leader along with them. Five millennials (well, maybe except for the youngest) … aka the generation who gets the most grief for having grown up receiving participant ribbons.

I was floored!

We chatted for an hour or more, enjoying their companionship, laughter and sharing of their lives with us.

Then they said, lets pray.

And they did, and it was sweet and meaningful and powerful.

At the time, I didn’t have the words that evening to express my thanks, other than “thanks” because I was so shocked. Now I sit here and still have no words, except thanks.

I can tell you how I felt, simply wowed. Wowed that they would think to come to our house to pray for us. Wowed by their confidence to follow through. Wowed that they would come and spend time chatting with us. Wowed by their wisdom. Wowed by the maturity with which they prayed. Wowed by their offering to us. Wowed that they received a calling and they did it.

They will never know how humbled we feel, because of their offering to us.

We are blessed.

“(if) my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.” 2 Chronicles 7:14 The Message

 

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look

I awoke, this morning, to my world being coated with fresh fallen snow.

And I smiled.

Though I am a snow-lover, I am now ready for signs of spring, but snow never fails to raise the corners of my lips, to raise the shadows from within.

As I smiled my mind began reciting Matthew 28:20:

lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”

The word, lo stayed in my mind, and I had to look it up. According to dictionary.com, lo means look, or see. It is delivered with excitement, importance.

And I looked out the window, and smiled, yet again.

The verse, above, is part of the Great Commission, when Jesus was instructing his disciples  on their job description as his followers, specifically after he was gone from them. Remember, this was the resurrected Jesus, so there was a bit of doubt … though, I bet they were riveted at the same time … you wouldn’t have to say LO (look) twice to me!

Through his Spirit, he is always near, all we need to do is look, open our eyes to see his presence in our days.

So simple, yet so complex at the same time.

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely lo I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20

 

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It is early morning, and I am sitting in my cozy chair, with only the light from my deck, and my computer screen. I glance out the window to the beauty of the recent snowfalls. The rain is falling steadily, and the only other sound is my wonder dog, snoring in the chair beside me. I have just received notice that school/work is cancelled due to dangerous road conditions. I am at peace.

But, with the rain falling, I know that dark, wet, slushy storms are just around the corner.

In our neck of the Pacific Northwest woods, some would say that the rain is the signal that the storms are coming to an end. Snowfall amounts have been adding up to record-breaking totals for five days straight.

For me, the snow is not a storm, for I have learned to live with snow, to move with snow … which means to slow down and to embrace the snow.

But the rain … I still wrestle with the rain.

When the rains fall, day after day after day, there is a weight that begins to descend that leads me to a dark and soul-lamenting that I cannot choose to leave … I have to ride the storm, and wait for it to pass.

I have been learning, in the last few years, to approach this dreaded season differently, as I have been leaning in to lament.

Through this process, I have been learning not to fear the ‘wet and dark season’ but worshipping through it. In essence I have been practising what the author (Jeremiah?) of Lamentations has shared.

It is interesting that the Hebrew word for the book means “how” and the Greek translation of the title means “lament”. I, in my grand theological studies (tongue in cheek) like to think of the book of Lamentations as meaning, how to lament.

In this book, I see great lamenting, being very real before God (heck, he knows how we feel anyway, we might as well admit it when we feel we are defeated, crushed, in the pit). But, I also see hope (3:22-25):

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.”

Lamenting does not only happen in the book of Lamentations.

There are numerous Psalms (aka sacred songs) in which the author is lamenting, weeping, sorrow filled, and they are usually directed specifically to God. My favourite is Psalm 13, which begins with “How long, Lord?” and ends with “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”

I recently saw this quote (below), which was like a thesis statement for me in my pursuit of understanding lamenting:

“The whole point of lamentation is you don’t use your pain as an excuse not to worship; you actually take your pain and you bring it with you before the alter, and you stand there with your pain and you say, “Though all this is true, yet I will rejoice in You!” It is the highest form of worship that exists.” Graham Cooke

And so, today, as I watch the rains fall, I will lament, and I will praise God, for he is faithful.

In practising praise in the midst of my lament of rain, I am growing a practise that I pray will hold me up when the greater storms of life descend, and my response will be to lean in to lament, and to continue to worship God, for he is faithful.

 

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I do not remember who said it, but I once heard something that resurfaces in my thoughts, and it went (somewhat) like this:

We need to remember that there are people around us, ones we work with, neighbours, families on your kid’s soccer team, the cashier at your grocery store, who are the future inhabitants of hell.

Quite a statement, indeed, and one that many of us might view as a rather extreme, and possibly even a negative way to look at those around us. And yet …

Recently, in a post called He May Never Know …, I shared about how a young man introduced our son to the love of God, and how he had greatly encouraged him, with his unconditional acceptance and love.

The spirit of God resides in us, but it is not for our benefit alone. The Spirit is the seed, our trust and faith in that seed is the soil, and how we live is the fruit.

It is the fruit of how we choose to live our lives, how we choose to treat others, that either entices or repels others to the seed (Spirit) within us.

Dr. Charles Stanley said,

” … all of us need to be encouragers because we live in a world full of people who are discouraged.”

And how do we encourage the discouraged? By allowing the seed of the Spirit to grow and ripen in our lives, until it bursts from us in the sweetest of fruits … in the form of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control (that last one is a struggle for me, in so many areas).

Though Christ can, and does, work in spite of us, I would suggest that if his Spirit is living within us, he purposes that we work with him in the pursuit of rescuing lost souls.

Perhaps I am wrong in my assertion, but what if I am right?

 

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As I walked down the grocery store aisle a young man caught my attention. He looked to be in his mid twenties, shopping with an attractive young woman. I knew, as soon as I saw him, who he was … for I could never forget him.

I met him almost ten years ago, at a place I’d never been, to leave my son, for a week, in the care of people who I had never met.

He was a friendly teen with a big smile and friendly eyes. He was so welcoming, so wordlessly comforting to this momma dealing with the pending separation anxiety.

Hubby and I bid farewell to our son, with big hugs and reminders that we would see him at the end of the week. Then we walked away from him, surrounded by his school friend, a handful of other boys, and his two, fearless leaders. We were both feeling hopeful and fearful all at once.

About six months earlier, the mom of our son’s friend called and asked if our son would like to go to summer camp. It was a church camp that their family had been attending for at least two generations. Though he would only be six years old, he was keen to spend five sleeps with his school buddy, so we decided to say “yes” and allow him his first week at summer camp.

The day we were to drop him off, I was so unsure.

Days later, we arrived to pick up son. He was filthy behind the ears, exhausted, and totally joy-filled. He gave his new friends high fives, hand-shakes and hugs good bye. But it was his farewell to this one cabin counsellor that tugged at my heart. There were few words said, yet communication that pierced the heart.

What this teen didn’t know (nor did I at that time) was that our son had been bullied at school for the two previous years. Having unconditional care and friendship from this cool teenager greatly encouraged our boy … rebuilding and repairing what had been torn away.

The following year, as we drove onto the camp grounds, this councillor greeted our son, by name. Our son had this young man as his camp counsellor again, and he was thrilled.

A few years later we saw him at a concert, and again, he greeted our boy by name.

There are few things I know, that I know, in this life, but this I know for sure, that young man introduced our son to Jesus, because he always made him feel welcomed here on Earth.

I stared, as inconspicuously as possible, to be completely certain it was him.

Soon I was close enough to be so bold as to greet him. Before I fully had the question “were you a counsellor at camp …” off my lips, he said, “you’re Ben’s mom” and I smiled, and nodded.

He told me that they follow each other on Instagram, that he planned to visit him this summer at camp … Ben’s tenth summer at camp … as a camper and as a counsellor.

This young man may never fully know, this side of heaven, that he had opened a door to eternity …

until, maybe, he has a child,

and he takes his child,

hopefully, fearfully,

to camp for the first time,

and some teenager welcomes his child

as though he were welcoming God himself.

 

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Waiting is not something that many of us enjoy.

There is little that we have to actually wait for anymore in our daily lives.

Thanks to computer technology alone, we can read a book, bank at all hours, order dinner, purchase items, make contact with people in our lives, and complete a degree … all wearing our pjs, from our sofa, while watching an entire season of our favourite TV show, from our computers!

Waiting is not something expected in our lives today.

Yet, waiting is still part of the human experience.

We still have to wait nine months for a baby to be fully developed, we still have to wait for the vegetables in our gardens to grow before we reap a harvest, we still have to wait until we are a certain age to drive a vehicle and we still have to wait for our prayers to be answered.

The later is often the longest wait.

Just this past weekend, a woman in our church shared of a dreadfully long wait for her hubby to see a health care specialist. It seemed that each day was too long leading up to the awaited appointment. Each ‘what if’ that could be dreamed was considered. They were certain that if hubby’s health didn’t kill him, waiting to see the specialist would.

Then they finally got to the appointed day. And appointed it was! She shared of how there was connection with this doctor, right down to his office decor. To top it all off, her hubby was given a clean bill of health … the best news they could have imagined.

She shared that, though they felt the waiting would cause further deterioration of his health, in reality the time waiting allowed healing and restoration of his body that only time can heal.

Waiting is hard, and not a chosen venue for any of us, yet there can be blessing in the process of waiting.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us, “for everything there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth.”

Though the time spent in the waiting room of yet to be answered prayers can be tiring, frustrating and difficult, it may just be that this waiting has purpose. God’s answers are always on time.

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
Psalm 27:14

 

 

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