On Bravehearts

This week my daughter and her husband (left in the photo) stepped into a profound list of “firsts” as they begin a new chapter of life in China. He will teach English at a large city university, and she will—well, we’re not sure. We’re hoping her extensive music skills will find an outlet.

My memory went back over other firsts in her life. Her first breath (a girl!), those first steps, first day of pre-school…I’ll skip the many childhood firsts and get on to the first day of being a licensed driver, first day away at college, first day away at grad school, and her first day as a bride and wife.

Now--oh, the places she will see and the people she will meet.

As she acclimates to new surroundings and especially a new culture, I think back to times my comfort zones were stretched. Though I did go outside the U.S. borders a few times, most of my changes were within the U.S. and didn’t involve a strange language, “what’s that?”-food choices, masses and masses of people, and less-than-ideal sanitation. But when my parents died and I was on my own 2,000 miles from my “roots,” I did struggle with feeling I didn’t fit in…until some scriptures grabbed my heart.

One was Psalm 37:3: “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” Three verbs stood out: trust, do, enjoy. I chose to trust that even in the negatives, God wouldn’t leave me. I had to take the initiative to do good in the tasks and relationships that unfolded. Then, in a pastoral image, I was to enjoy this place where the Shepherd had led me to graze.

A few pages later, in Psalm 68, came another reminder of God’s love to those with missing links in their earthly families. Mindful of the dangers of self-pity (“the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land,” v. 6), I connected as soon as possible with a church and volunteered in its ministries. I was there only a year before moving away, but because of those connections, thirty years later I am still in touch with one precious couple from there.

One more Bible passage, Jeremiah 29, spoke to me about accepting God’s plan about living in a new place. The circumstances surrounding this passage were a bit different than mine, as the Jews’ move to exile in Babylon came about as a result of punishment, not a step of faith. I cannot begin to imagine what it was like to travel by foot or pack animal, under the uncaring prods of enemy soldiers, over the deserts to the land of their conquerors. But once there, God didn’t want them to give up. The prophet Jeremiah gave them God’s instructions: to accept this foreign land as their home for now. Family, farming and commercial life were to go on, and they were to seek the peace and prosperity of this adopted homeland (v. 8).

Many may not realize that Jeremiah’s letter was the context of the golden words of hope in verse 11: “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Many also forget that this promise is immediately followed in verse 12 by the obedience of prayer: “Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

Prayer has covered this move for my daughter and her husband. I believe they will “trust, do, and enjoy” in this land away from their homeland. And even when I can’t hug them in person, I’ll be hugging them in my heart as they encounter many, many “firsts.”

Attitude check-up

My son drives a car that’s pushing 200,000 miles on the odometer—and I feel a bit like that when I go to the doctor for my annual checkup, as I did a few days ago. The good news is that I’m still “good for the road,” despite the inevitable maladies of aging.

As I came home from being prodded and poked and peered into, I thought of another “checkup” I need from time to time. This one concerns attitudes of “sluggard-ness,” and it gets its exam questions straight out of the book of Proverbs. Among its probing questions:
Do I trust God or cling to unfounded fears? A sluggard fears what is unlikely to happen: “There is a lion outside....I will be murdered in the streets” (Prov. 22:13).
Do I embrace or resist life’s challenges? The sluggard would rather stay in bed than face life: “As a door turns on its hinges, so a sluggard turns on his bed” (Prov. 26:14). He wants an easy life on his own terms, as in this image of needing someone to feed him: “The sluggard buries his hand in the dish; he will not even bring it back to his mouth” (Prov. 19:24).
Am I a “doer” or a “quitter”? The sluggard, says Proverbs 6:10, would rather sleep life away, either literally or by doing nothing. In contrast are the ants (vv. 6-8), which shoulder on in gathering food. Proverbs 20:4 says the sluggard doesn’t plow when it’s time to plow. By procrastinating, he doesn’t reap a crop when others do.
Do I seek solutions or get stuck in problems? The sluggard sees only problems. His way is blocked with thorns (Proverbs 15:19), meaning he gives up too easily.
Am I a learner or a know-it-all? Proverbs 26:16 nails the difference: “The sluggard is wiser in his own eyes than seven men who answer discreetly.”
Do I take care of what God has given me? The includes material possessions as well as abilities and opportunities. Proverbs 24:30-31 says the sluggard’s home and fields are broken down and full of weeds because he doesn’t take care of them. Proverbs 12:27 says if the sluggard goes hunting, he doesn’t dress and roast his game. He lets it rot.

Proverbs 13:4 says “the sluggard craves and gets nothing.” What an utterly sad verse! Thankfully, there’s a second part, a positive opposite: “but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied.” Even though I don’t have the energy of my “younger” self, I can still set daily goals that seek to bring honor to God. Unlike the “real” garden slug, who leaves a slimy trail, I can leave, with God’s help, something positive behind.

Heaven's wonder bread

When my children were home, they both savored being able to eat the crusty heel off the freshly-baked loaf of bread. Hmm, good, with homemade raspberry jam. I remembered that the other day when I baked bread for dinner. I also thought of what Jesus, who called Himself the Bread of Life, did by the Sea of Galilee long ago when surrounded by thousands of famished people. Some had walked two hours from home to hear Him and to seek healing.

Actually, the New Testament records two separate occasions when He fed multitudes. But His feeding of 5,000 is the only miracle recorded in all four Gospels. For several reasons, it’s become my favorite miracle. These are the teachings it fed into my life:

*If God wants you to do something for Him, He will put it right in front of you. Jesus didn’t have to look far to see 5,000 men plus women and children needing Him. My circles of relationships include many with baffling and frustrating needs, some of which He wants me to tend on His behalf.

*If you feel inadequate, you’re probably qualified. The disciples wanted to send the crowd away because they didn’t feel they could handle it. Similarly, the expectations of schooling, job, relationships and ministry always look bigger than we think we can handle. When God allowed overwhelming challenges into my life, I didn’t feel that I was the best candidate for His work. I wanted to echo Moses and Jeremiah, “Who me? I’m just a nobody.” But God wanted me to learn that He would help me do what I considered impossible.

*If the task is impossible, it’s just the right size for God. Andrew was the math whiz of Jesus’ followers, and he just knew that five loaves and two fishes wouldn’t even give everybody a crumb. When I left the comfort zone of my first job for mission service, I wondered how I would ever survive on what the mission considered “just enough.” Yet I always had “just enough,” and never had to dip into my personal savings, which eventually paid for a year at Bible college. I even had “fragments” to share with others.

*If God has a task for you, He has a method to get it done. Jesus didn’t randomly throw crumbs and fish bits at the crowd. He had them sit in orderly picnic groups. As the baskets were passed, the miracle of multiplication took place. I saw that happen every time I wrote a book. Yes, I had done my research and had files of loosely organized notes. But the raw form of a book emerged only through prayer-saturated seat-in-chair, one page at a time.

*If God is in it, He will get the glory. The little boy who gave up his lunch didn’t get paraded around the hills as the hero of the day. All eyes were on Jesus. That’s the way it should be. Years ago I had the privilege of hearing Holocaust survivor Corrie ten Boom. The church was packed for the visit of this simple Dutch lady. I’ve been to “speaker training” and learned that speakers should “power dress” and begin with “power stories” to reach an audience. Corrie did none of that. She just came in her cotton dress and spoke about the Bible, God’s care, and the love of Jesus. And when the applause came, she pointed to the ceiling—that is, to Heaven, to give God the glory.

There’s another detail from this feeding miracle worth considering. It took place right after Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist was beheaded. Matthew 13:14 says that Jesus, upon hearing this horrific news, “withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” In His humanity, He sought aloneness to grieve. I think God is telling us that when we go through a traumatic time, it’s okay to pull back briefly to heal. But that’s not to be a permanent condition. In Jesus’ case, word of mouth quickly moved the crowd to His new location, and He resumed His role as Teacher, Healer and Savior—the Bread of Life.

The bread I bake from scratch needs to be eaten up within a few days or it will mold. Spiritual riches left unshared by excuses like “I can’t do it” also go stale. Feel you have too little? Remember, Jesus multiplied crumbs.

Arthritically-correct Hymns

Some of the old, standby (pun intended) hymns just aren’t what they used to be for me. I blame a broken ankle that healed into a weather prediction station. Along with an aging back, both have become hangouts for a nemesis named Arthur-ritis. At my church, we start out upright and at full attention when worship begins with hymns and choruses. But by the time we’re into some chorus’s 18th refrain, sometimes I’m ready to refrain from standing and fold my posterior into a pew.

I do so with great guilt, no thanks to the tradition of hymns built off stalwart verses like “Stand firm” (2 Thess. 2:15). For those of us with lesser endurance who “sit firm,” I propose some arthritically-correct hymns:
1.“On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Sit and Cast a Wishful Eye.” Outdoor worship? Just give me a lawn chair and warm blanket
2.“Sit Down, Sit Down for Jesus.” Even when I'm good to stand for a while, I might be next to a truly needy sit-downer who needs a friend at his or her level.
3.“I Sit Amazed in the Presence.” That sure fits the morning devotional time—good, quiet, seat-in-chair-with-Bible moments.
4.“On Christ the Solid Rock I Sit.” It worked for the house built on a rock. The one on sand should have had flood insurance.
5.“Sitting on the Promises.” That’s better than pacing around and wringing your hands in worry.
6.“Lord, Lift Me Up and Let Me Sit.” Though I may not see the words on the overhead through the six-foot-four, 280-pound guy in front, I can still feel spiritually lifted.
7.“Sit down and Bless the Lord.” We do this anyway before passing the chicken and veggies.

To be honest, the “arthritically correct” hymns just don’t sound right. But I’ll be happy to belt out the originals, as long as I have permission to eventually obey gravity’s pull on my aging body.