SUN-SEEKERS

I was SO READY for spring this year, and was cheered by two gift bouquets of tulips. I put them together in one vase and placed them on a west-facing lamp table, spreading out the blooms in a circle. Later that afternoon, I was surprised to find they'd done some re-arranging of their own, all turning toward the sunshine coming through this window tracking the afternoon sun. I knew plants still in the soil sought the sun, but cut ones? The sight of those “head-turners” reminded me of comforting phrases in Psalm 34, especially these:

I sought the LORD and He delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. (vv. 4-5)

The word “radiant” especially caught my attention. Going through a season of loss and grief doesn't exactly make every day or hour a sun-shiny one. But God is teaching me to look up in faith to His love and sufficiency. And maybe to look out in faith to point those around me to the source of true joy and hope.

To be radiant, even when my days aren't all that sunny with happy connections and happenings.

Years ago, I received a number of notes and E-mails that were, well, grumpy and unappreciative. Yes, dumping on me. I knew enough of the sender's background to realize they wanted their own way instead of submitting to the Lord's discipline and better plan. Dealing with their negatives was a good exercise for me in asking whether similar behaviors were true of me. Yes, as David wrote in this psalm, to “seek the Lord.” To “look to Him.” And—in so doing, gain His perspective on fears and unmet expectations.

That last phrase of verse 5, “never covered with shame,” holds so much quiet power. In looking to the Sun of Righteousness, the shadows fade in the brilliance of His perfect love. There's another aspect to this psalm. The credits indicate David wrote it after a scary time (told in 1 Samuel 21), when he was running for his life away from mad King Saul. He was trying to hide amid some enemies—bad choice—especially since he turned up in the home territory of Goliath, the enemy giant he'd killed!

Do I still have fears, things that upset and scare me? Of course, I'm human. But I have a choice, like those crazy and lovely tulips, to seek the Light. To let the inner beauty God crafted as “me” to shine forth in the brief time I have to bloom for Him.

Sadly, my tulips wilted and had to be tossed after a few days. But I enjoyed the colors and reminders of spring's re-emergence. I reflected on the love shown me by those who gave me the tulips. And I realized God, in His grace, allowed this reminder to seek Him—the One bigger than fears or disappointments, and whose radiant Love is available to me, 24/7.

Survival of the Floaters

How God builds your faith often comes down to ordinary experiences. Like a college swimming class.

The college I attended required, of all things, passing a swimming proficiency class for graduation. Most people just quickly splash up and down the pool and pass. But I’d never learned to swim, thanks to health issues as a child. I had an irrational fear of any water deeper than my waist.

Thankfully, the test began at the shallow end. When the instructor ordered us to swim, I attempted my best effort at swimming—one that might be described as tortured Dutch windmill.

“Sign up for Swimming 101,” the instructor told me. She means sign up for Faith-Stretch 101, I told myself.

I had only ten weeks to conquer my fears. By the ninth class week, the agony deepened.

“Today you learn to dive off the board,” the swim teacher announced. The board? Does she mean the plank at the deep end off which I will fall to my doom? I will spare you the details of my first straight-in dive to the utter bottom of the pool.

Still alive by the tenth week, I showed up for the final swimming exam. My classmates curled off the diving board like penguins slipping over an ice float for a frolic around the ocean. As they stroked the required three pool lengths, I took my fateful walk to the end of the plank, er, diving board. My life passed in front of me as I tried to remember the “how to dive” lesson. I sucked in a breath and jumped.

Surfacing for the compulsory crawl (aptly named, for me), I managed two more lengths with other “exhibit” swimming strokes. As I finished, the teacher nodded and mumbled something about how I might enjoy Swimming 102. I chose not to hear her. I was too busy thanking God for helping me get through Mission Impossible.

That quarter, I learned something more than treading water, diving, and the crawl. I also experienced how God could grow me by helping me accomplish something I thought was way beyond me. He specializes in “strength” and “protection” (2 Thess. 3:3). Even in this personal battle (small to others, big to me), God was ready to help me.

He’s continued to see me through lots harder things that I never signed up for, but that are a part of life. As a college freshman, I never imagined I’d be orphaned at 31, face joblessness, stay single until 34, or almost get killed by a drunk driver. At times, I’m sure my ability to trust God looked like that tortured Dutch-windmill stroke. But through prayer, trust in the Bible’s promises, and daily dependence on God, I got through it all.

I think that’s why Paul urged the folks at Thessalonica, “Never tire of doing what is right” (3:13). Even if we think we can’t do it, with God we can. And having God’s love and approval is a zillion times more exciting than the instructor’s nod that I passed Swimming 101!