Psalm Devotional - A Sample

I posted a while back about the Psalms devotional book that my writers' group put together, but I failed to give you a sample. So while the electricity is cooperating in the midst of this icy day of rolling power black outs, I thought I'd share one of mine.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! Psalm 100:4 (ESV)

“Father God, forgive me of my sins, protect my family and I throughout the day and night, give us good health, . . . .” The same prayer night after night. The same order, the same basic requests, and the same repetitive words: “me” and “I.”

Delights that just hours earlier I had sworn not to forget went unpraised because I allowed my mind to be consumed with my needs and my desires. I forgot to thank God for the smiles, laughter, and joy he had given me. I neglected to give God the praise that he is due as God, Creator, Lord of lords, and Holy of holies.

Frustrated that my prayers failed to convey my heartfelt praise, I decided to start listing my praises each day before I lifted up my prayers. To help remind me, I use a spiral notebook and write on the top of each page, “Father, I praise You for . . .”; toward the bottom of the page, I write, “Father, I lift up to You . . . .”

This little tool of keeping a praise/prayer journal not only redirected my me-centered prayers, helping me to put the focus back on God by praising him from the start, but also made me on the lookout for God’s handiwork throughout the day. Before I started keeping a daily praise list, a sunset that took my breath away might have lasted only a moment. Now I know I want to record it later in my journal, so I pay more attention to it in the moment. Similarly, an answered prayer does not slip through the cracks of my memory as easily because I have written prayer requests down and can look back through them to note when they are answered.

It took a little work to put into practice Psalm 100:4’s wisdom and to enter his gates with thanksgiving. But now, instead of waiting to thank God until I have spelled out all of my needs and my desires, I look forward to listing my praises first and seeing how they often far outnumber my requests.

Father God, thank You for all the big and little ways that You touch my heart throughout the day. You alone are worthy of all my praise.

What one step could you take to make praising God an integral part of your prayer time? (A few suggestions include memorizing Psalm 100:4, listening to praise music, keeping a list of praises, or beginning your prayers with praise rather than petitions.)

Still Learning, Part 2

In response to my last post, so many of you have sent me words of encouragement. I greatly appreciate each and every comment and e-mail. Because I know that many people have faced times of feeling like a failure, I thought I'd post what one of my friends e-mailed me:

I totally resonate with what you said about expecting it to be easier b/c God led you there. I have been there/go there often. In fact, he's led me to places where I (in my eyes) fail, even though I was depending on him for strength. An imperfect "performance" or even a failure does not automatically imply that he was not with you or was displeased with you. As always, he is concerned with our process. And unfortunately for me, that sometimes includes less than stellar results. But I am learning to trust him to only give me the success and/or failure that I can handle. This verse comes to mind: "So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor." I Corinthians 3:7-8

In context, this verse is talking about the sharing of the gospel, but I think the principle would also apply to the use of our gifts and abilities. We exercise them; God makes them grow and rewards our faithfulness.

I hope this encourages you as much as it did me.

Being Carried

"If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!" (Ecclesiastes 4:10)

Remember the feeling of being piggy-backed by a friend or parent? They did all the hard work of lifting and carrying, and you merely climbed up and hung on?

That's the closest way that I can described what I experienced today. My friends and family did the heavy lifting, carrying me along. I received emails and phone calls encouraging me, a wonderful dinner last night to ease my stress, and a ton of prayers. It humbles me that people interceded on my behalf and prayed me through today. And because of their efforts, I survived!

I have no recollection of what I said the first ten minutes of class. Words flew out of my mouth before I turned the floor over to the students to hear why they have chosen this career path. My voice survived the rest of the class by alternating between speaking and giving writing assignments; the writing assignments allowed my faltering vocal chords to recharge. And before I knew it, the dismissal time of 5:20 had arrived.

In the coming weeks, hopefully my vocal chords will gain their strength, and my ability to teach writing and speaking skills will increase as well. At least now the big first class is behind me. I rest in that tonight.

Father God, thank You for surrounding me with praying friends and family who encourage me and take time to pray for me in the midst of their busy lives.

Catching the "I" in Pride

I caught myself saying, "I pulled off a surprise party for my boss's birthday today."

The fact of the matter is that all I did was send an email to invite people. I know better than to think that I have control over nine people's schedules, as was obvious by the fact that this was almost called off on Friday and then one person almost had to back out at the last minute today.

I actually had the gall to steal God's glory and take credit for this event after lifting up a feeble prayer last week that this event wouldn't have to be canceled. Maybe deep down I wanted this gathering to take place so that I would get the credit, though I don't recall putting those words to the panic-like feeling I encountered at the thought of having to cancel the lunch. I guess that's just another example of how feelings can be so deceiving.

To say I'm embarrassed is an understatement. I can't believe that I serve such a wonderful God. One who allowed nine people, who have probably never been in the same room before, to enjoy lunch together. One who answers my prayers, knowing that I'll steal His glory. One who forgives me when I recognize the error of my ways and ask for forgiveness.

Father God, thank You for Your mercy and forgiveness. Forgive me for failing to give You the glory. Today's events were ordained by You long before I was even born. Thank You for the joy You provided and for letting me be a part of such a wonderful celebration. Amen.

Obedience in Action

I enjoyed my day off by attending a dog show. It wasn't a big national dog show, just a local one. But it had a huge turnout and was fun all the same.

My friend Nancy showed her German Shepherd, Heidi, in the Novice B obedience competition. They've been taking classes for a while now, and their hard work paid off. Heidi listened to Nancy's commands and followed them well, getting distracted by the crowd only a couple of times. At the end of her performance, she was awarded with a blue first-place ribbon and some cute doggie items.

As I thought about Heidi's small acts of obedience and the rewards that it brought her, I began to reflect upon the most magnificent act of obedience that took place on this day, Good Friday, so many years ago.

God asked His only Son to die for the sins of all mankind. And though Jesus requested that God "take this cup" from Him, He stated that He wanted His Father's will to be done, not His own. And because of His obedience, we received the gift of forgiveness for our sins and new life in the Father.

Father, thank You for the work You did on the cross through your Son. When I am tempted to do things my way, please bring my mind back to the concept that obedience produces blessing.

Safety First

I must confess a new obsession: I am addicted to running searches on the cosmetic safety database. For those of you who haven't heard of it, the website is run by a nonprofit corporation that rates cosmetics from 0 to 10 (with zero being best) according to how safe they are to use. The website allows visitors to run searches to see how safe their hand soap, sunscreen, deodorant, shampoo, body wash, make-up, etc. are. The website's counter keeps track of how many searches it has performed and was showing over 44 million when I last visited, and I attributed a great deal of those searches to me. I possess this insatiable need to know what products are "safe."

When my family and I played the game Imaginiff at Christmas, the card came up asking my family to Imaginiff I had a motto and to choose one of the following to describe what my motto would be: (1) pedal to the metal; (2) stop and smell the roses; (3) take the road less traveled; (4) better safe than sorry; (5) an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; or (6) love makes the world go round. If I remember correctly, I think the winning answer was #4 better safe than sorry.

Safety. That seems to be a resounding theme in my life. I always want to be safe and protected. From sickness. From crime. From being hurt. From making foolish decisions that will harm me. And so I pray often for my own protection and for my family's protection.

This safety issue is something that has plagued me most of my life. I can remember as a child being very afraid of burglars and thinking that someone was hiding behind every tree in our yard. Maybe that fear was born out of having a father who was sick and lived in a nursing home rather than in our home. I'm not sure. But I do know that all the security systems and security personnel in the world can't keep me totally safe. That's something I have to rely on God for.

And I also have to realize that sometimes God isn't always about being safe. The words of C.S. Lewis in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe echo in my mind: "Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." (p.86)

That's often not what I want to hear. Yes, I want the goodness of God, but I also want to be safe. And so I have to wrestle with my will and turn it over to Him. Not an easy task. But one I can dedicate more attention and time to if I'd stop running searches for safe products.

Father God, You know the desires of my heart and what's best for me. Help me to rest in who You are instead of my circumstances.

Today's Convicting Encounter

I arrived to pick up my dry cleaning this evening and noticed that the lady behind the counter was smiling one of those contagious smiles as she waited on the man ahead of me. He left without speaking to her.

I stepped forward and gave the lady my claim ticket. She happily retrieved my clothes. I considered not saying anything more than thank you, but I felt prompted to ask her about the reason for her smile.

"You seem really happy," I finally said.

"Oh, yes! I happy all the time!" (She continued to smile as she spoke.)

"I wish I could be happy all the time," I caught myself saying.

"I happy because I read Buble," she says. I guess the mispronunciation made me have a confused look on my face because she quickly walked over and pointed to her open Bible.

I'm reading through the chronological Bible right now, and my curiosity got the best of me. So I had to ask, "What chapter are you reading?"

"Genesis," she said while continuing to beam.

"Me, too. I'm looking forward to finishing it tomorrow." She nodded as I left.

As I put my clothes in the car, I couldn't help but wonder how many people that lady has inspired, all because of her sweet smile and her willingness to give the Reason for it.

Father God, as I go about my day, please help my countenance to reflect joy and contentment so that I may point others to You. Thank you for putting this woman in my path today as a gentle reminder of how my heart longs to change and look more like Yours.

The 5 P's (Revised)

When I was in high school, my junior English teacher repeated a mantra about the five P's that stuck with me: "Poor Planning Prevents Proper Performance." If I remember correctly, she liked to respond with that phrase any time a student complained that he didn't have enough time to finish a project. In other words, procrastination equaled failure.

I don't like to be one who is caught off guard. I want to know what is around the bend and what I need to do to be prepared for it. So, I find myself constantly looking at the calendar and trying to plan what tasks I need to get done in order to be ready for events that are days, weeks, or months from now.

I try especially hard to implement the five P's as the Christmas season approaches. I want to be ready. I want to have my Christmas letter done and my shopping done so that I can enjoy the events ahead. I usually feel like all my planning pays off and allows me to relax and take in everything that is going on. But sometimes, I have to wonder if I'm missing out by not enjoying the here and now. This very moment.

Last week as I pondered this, I came up with the new five P's: Persistent Planning Prevents Present Pleasure. It painted a whole different perspective. One that made me want to throw away my calendar.

I'm not sure how to strike a balance between the two versions of the five P's. Thankfully, I know where to take this problem.

Father God, as the Christmas season approaches, show me how to balance planning ahead with enjoying the present moment. But most of all, help me not to miss You during this time.

Spared

The two-lane road meanders through the southern part of the city, connecting neighborhoods to the southern hospital district. The posted speed limit of forty-five miles an hour feels a bit much as the road curves around a few bends. The road, normally not very busy on a Sunday morning, usually allows quiet contemplation. But not this morning.

Within seconds after making one of the curves, I caught sight of a male driver in a red Ford pick-up truck heading straight at me. In the brief instant that we made eye contact, he gave no indication that he knew that he was in the wrong lane or that he was fearful. I immediately laid on the horn and jumped a curb in an attempt to lessen the blow. When he got to approximately four feet in front of my vehicle, he swerved out of the way. While I was still shaking, I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that he never even put on his brakes and instead kept going as if nothing had happened.

As I replayed that scene to capture it in words, I felt the breath being sucked out of me. I have no idea whether that driver was on a quest to scare people this morning; if so, mission accomplished. I was still quite shaken when I arrived at church. I kept thanking God, knowing that He had spared me from pain, spending my life in a wheelchair, and possibly even death.

How many times in my life has God spared me from pain or death? I’m sure that any guess I conjured up would be on the low side. Today’s events were no different than the many times before when God has come to my rescue, except that this time I had a front-row seat. I watched the action-packed drama play out right in front of my bumper.

When I arrived back at my house after church, I recognized the magnitude of the words that I say to my dog every day when I leave, “See you later, Annie. GOD WILLING.”

“Thank You, Lord, for being my Rescuer and for sparing me from pain. Thank You for allowing me to see how sweet having a quiet afternoon at home can be in light of this morning’s events. Thank You for giving me a renewed focus to wisely use the time that You have given me on this earth. Amen.”

The Gift of Believing

I’m reading Blue Like Jazz a second time because my small group wanted to discuss it. After re-reading the first five chapters, one thing that has been impressed upon me is how God opened my heart to believe that Jesus is His Son and that He had to die on a cross for my sins. I didn’t struggle with believing that when I made a “public” decision to follow Christ on Christmas Day 1988. And today I still don’t struggle with believing that.

By saying that, I don’t mean that I completely understand grace or that I fully understand the ins and outs of the Trinity. I still have a lot to learn about grace and how to show it more often to those in my life, and I probably have even more to learn about the Trinity than I can grasp. But the concept of Jesus as my Savior came naturally.

I now know that was a gift.

Some people desperately struggle with making sense of Christianity and believing. Some people are just wired that way. Wanting to have good proof and to make logical sense of things before grabbing hold and believing.

In contrast to my life now, I didn’t ask many questions when I was growing up. If a teacher told me something or if I read something in a book, I didn’t question it. I guess I just had “childlike faith.”

Ever since college, I’ve had professions that require me to ask questions in order for me to be able to do my job. That tendency has carried over into many of my relationships, including my relationship with God. But the questions I ask today are geared more toward what I need to be doing to glorify Him and how I can walk more closely with Him.

“So Father, thank You for giving me the gift of believing in You and Your Son. Help me to be patient with those who struggle to believe in You and to point them toward You in whatever way I can.”

Called To Pray

My mentor gave me a copy of a sermon that Max Lucado delivered entitled “Esther: Called to Pray.” Using stories from the biblical book of Esther, it focuses on how God brings people into our lives and places us in situations so that we will take the opportunity to pray. Lucado states,

You thought you got that new job because you deserved a promotion. I’m telling you, you got that new job because God wants you to stay there and pray for those people. You thought you were moved into that neighborhood because it was the best house you could find. I’m telling you that you are an assigned missionary to that neighborhood to pray for those people. You thought you were given that fourth grade class to teach just because the other teacher got sick and you got to be the substitute. Wrong! You were sent to that class because those 26 children need somebody to pray over them. You thought you were given this nation because you just happened to follow a certain lineage of a certain generation. Wrong! God has assigned you and He has assigned me to be prayer warriors for this nation, to intercede.

And I would go as far as to say this, church, that a day that passes that you don’t invite God’s kingdom to come into your world is a day wasted. . . . What God is doing is He is offering us the privilege of being a part of His strategy. When we come before Him and we say, “I don’t know how You’re going to do it, but please do it. Your ways are not my ways and I’m not going to complain at Your timing, though I would like to have it real soon. But I want Your will in this matter.”

Lucado’s words spoke to me because, as I've written before, I’ve struggled with understanding why God brings people into my path.

For instance, today was our clerk’s last day. Our clerks always work for just a year, and then they go out to spread their wings. It is a difficult transition for me because I have enjoyed working with each of the five clerks we’ve had thus far. Each one has brought a different vibe to our pod. And at the end of each year, I’m sad to see the clerk go. It takes me a while to adjust to the new clerks who arrive each September.

But through this sermon, I have been reminded that God keeps me in my job, in my house, and in my church and brings new people to my path for me to pray for them. That’s something that is so do-able. I just need to be obedient and do it.

Think about where you are and who you can pray for. After all, we are ALL called to pray. And when God’s people pray, anything is possible.

Sinful Weeds

With all the rain that we’ve had this summer, I haven’t had many chances to go outside and work in my flower beds to get the weed population under control. There was a brief break in the clouds a few days ago, and I took that opportunity to take back over my flower beds from the grip of all the evil weeds.

I’m reminded each time that I tend my “garden” that there are so many similarities with my spiritual life. As I struggle to pull out a weed whose roots have grown deep into the rock-hard Texas clay, I recognize that this is akin to what happens when I fail to identify a sin in its early stage and uproot it; it takes a firm grip and is harder to get rid of it. Instead of a quick pull, I have to work really hard and exert a lot of effort, possibly even get out some tools, in order to extricate it. It’s kind of a painful, and often dirty, process that usually takes a while.

And one reason for that might be that I’m not tending the garden or my spiritual life as often as I should. If I spent more time in God‘s Word, maybe I’d recognize the sin more quickly; just like if I spent more time in the garden, maybe I’d recognize the weeds more quickly before they could sink their roots down deep. Maybe I’d even take some preventive steps to thwart the sinful weeds from growing in the first place, like praying for God to protect me from going down paths that lead to sin.

“Lord, I pray that you would help me tend my spiritual garden often, that you would keep me on the alert for the sinful weeds that I’m prone to, and that you would help me to keep the soil in my spiritual garden open to growing beautiful flowers instead of sinful weeds.”

Willing to Receive

Yesterday, before I slayed the beast, I had an interesting experience. I tried to take lunch to a family whose son was in the hospital here. I made several phone calls to the hospital before I was put through to the family. Then, when I asked if I could bring them lunch, they said that they would just eat in the cafeteria at the hospital.

I was taken aback. I had really wanted to be able to love on this family whose son normally gets medical treatment in Minnesota. I kept racking my brain to figure out how I could have changed my approach so that they would have accepted my offer to help. I ultimately decided that I just needed to show them some grace and understand that they are going through a difficult time.

Later in the evening, the friend who had introduced me to the above family said that she had seen them and that they had apologized to her for not accepting my offer. They didn’t know why they had so quickly refused an offer of help.

When it comes down to it, though, it’s just human nature.

How many times have I done the same thing? How many times has someone offered to help me, and I’ve rejected the offer of help so that I could do things on my own? I’m sure that I couldn’t even remember or count all those rejections that I have handed out.

Ultimately, we all want to do life on our own. We want to be independent. Yet, most people have an innate desire to help others. And so this creates an interesting juxtaposition: How can people ever give of their time and talents if everyone wants to live independently? Obviously we can’t. At some point, we need to be vulnerable and accept the offers of help from others and be willing to receive help from God as well.

“Lord, please continue to show me opportunities to help others, and help me identify those areas in my life in which I am trying to do things apart from You. I do not want to lead a life that looks like a “do-it-herself” job, which does not glorify You.”

The Sacrifice for Freedom

With today being Independence Day, I can’t help but take some time to reflect upon the sacrifices that have been made to purchase my freedom. I am sure that at some point today the newscasters will talk about the number of soldiers who have given their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan. But by simply giving a number or death toll, I think it de-personalizes or de-personifies the situation. Each life has been given to obtain so much more than a number can ever signify.

So many men and women have fought valiantly and exchanged their lives so that I can live in a country known as “the land of opportunity.” A place where I don’t have to be fearful of a dictator’s crazy whims, suicide bombers, or land mines. A country in which women have the opportunity to obtain an education, to vote, and to be anything they want to be. A nation in which I am free to worship as I choose.

And this nation is a nation under God. One who intimately knows the depths of sacrifice because He gave His only Son to remove my sins and yours. As a result, you and I are free from the destructive impact of sinful behavior and have the freedom to communicate openly with Him and to experience true freedom that can only come from God.

So on this Independence Day, I thank all those who have served and are currently serving in the military (especially Bryan and Matt who serve in the USAF and Daniel who serves in the US Navy) for your willingness to sacrifice your life for the freedom that we have. And to You, oh Lord, please help us not to take any of our freedom for granted. Continue to protect this great nation, and help us as a nation to remember Your sacrifice.

Waiting & Trusting/Trusting & Waiting

Today didn't go as planned. I had to go to the doctor to get clarification. Two weeks ago, I had an x-ray done on my back just to make sure that it had healed properly from a car accident a while ago. The x-rays showed that my back was fine, which was good news. But as the doctor read me the report, he mentioned a clip that showed up in my lower left pelvis. He asked if I'd had any medical procedures performed that could account for that clip. I was speechless. The only abdominal surgery I've had was to remove my gall bladder (on the upper right side of my abdomen) four years ago. He said he wasn't concerned about the clip but advised that I should probably have my primary doctor take a look at the x-rays. I couldn't deal with this before vacation, so I decided to wait until I got back to go to the doctor.

So, today I went to see the nurse practitioner. She wanted to order a CT scan. I asked if we could repeat the x-rays first because I was just sure that there must have been a plastic clip in the pocket of the scrubs that they made me wear during the x-ray. She agreed that we could start there and order a CT scan later if necessary. So, I strolled downstairs to the hospital, waited my turn, had the x-rays taken, and returned to work 3.5 hours later.

Right after the x-rays were taken, the tech said that she thought that she saw something that looked like a clip but that she couldn't give me any results. Weird, but that sounded like results to me. Results that I didn't want to hear.

So, during the hour and a half before I got the call from the doctor's office, my mind played out numerous scenarios. Mostly not good. I have a tendency toward that for some reason. And yet I kept hearing, "Do you trust Me?" I kept responding, "Yes, Lord," but my heart wasn't in it.

When the nurse called, she said that I do indeed have some sort of clip and that it must have been used to clamp off something. ???? I couldn't even ask intelligent questions at that time. I felt violated. Why had no one told me that I have this mystery clip floating around my pelvis? How is this normal?

And I heard it again, "Do you trust Me?"

On the drive home, I called a couple of friends of mine who are doctors. They gave me some suggestions on what to ask. One even said that it's probably a clip from the gall bladder surgery that just fell and that it is nothing to worry about. Okay, I'm trying to swallow that.

I realize that in the grand scheme of things this little clip that resides in my lower left pelvis is not a huge deal. And I'm thankful for that. It's just a bit unsettling to have not known about it before now and to have no idea how it really got there.

And yet I continue to hear, "Do you trust Me?"

Unfortunately, my weak-willed answer is "I think so, Lord; I really want to." But my actions show otherwise. And so tonight, I feel a bit like the father who took his son to Jesus and asked Jesus to heal him if he could. Jesus responded, "If I can? Everything is possible for him who believes." And the father replied, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!" (Mark 9:22-24)

I do believe, Lord, that nothing is too big, too little, or too unimportant to take to You. This little clip is merely a speck in Your presence. And yet You care. Help me reflect on Your faithfulness and expand my willingness to trust in only You.

Disconnected

Have you ever felt disconnected? I’m feeling that way right now on several levels.

For one, I didn’t watch or listen to any news last week while I was on vacation, so I have no idea if there was some major news event of which I should be aware (and I’m not speaking of updates on Paris Hilton's jail status, but rather nationwide and worldwide events). In the grand scheme of things, this disconnectedness doesn't bother me that much because I know that I can get online and search archives of newspapers if I so desire.

For another, my head is feeling physically disconnected from my body. This is a little different from what I talked about in my post entitled “14 Inches” a few weeks ago. Instead, this disconnection is a result of sleep deprivation. My exhausted head and eyes decided to shut down this evening for about three hours, though the rest of my body felt fine. After a good night’s rest, I’m hoping that this disconnectedness will resolve itself.

But the main disconnection I’ve been feeling is a disconnection from God. I don’t mean that I’ve thrown my beliefs aside and become an atheist or an agnostic. I also don’t mean that I’ve tried to connect with God and heard, “The number you’ve reached is no longer a working number. Please check the number and try again.” Quite the contrary. I feel like God has been wanting to connect with me, and I’ve ignored Him. I’ve missed what He wanted to tell me and have no archive I can search for the missed updates. All because I’ve been too busy. Too busy getting ready for vacation. Too busy at work. Too busy on vacation. Too exhausted upon my return.

For some reason, every time I go on vacation I have these grand illusions that I will spend a lot of good time with God and studying His Word. I feel like I’ll have all this “extra” time to pray and just enjoy His character and company. And, inevitably, that’s not the case. Instead, it’s as if I go off and leave God during the day while I’m out having fun, and then crash into bed with a few prayer requests and “thank yous,” and maybe even fall asleep before finishing those. This isn’t anyone’s fault but my own. And so instead of coming back from vacation refreshed and renewed spiritually, I always tend to come back empty.

The good thing is that this emptiness nags at me. It beckons me to get back in step with God. To seek Him out. To reconnect with Him.

Thank You, Lord, that You willingly gave up Your Son for my sake, giving me a direct line of communication with You. Please continue to give me a hunger and a thirst to connect with You and to spend time in Your Word. Refresh and renew me. And help me not to vacation from You. Amen.

People in my Pathway

Do you ever wonder why God put a certain person in your path? I’ve pondered this question a lot throughout my life. I can look back over my life and see how God brought a new person into my life at just the time when I needed a friend and then that person faded out of my life just as quietly as he or she had entered my life.

Back in junior high, all of the cliques were feuding, and I seemed to end up on the outside. By myself. Alone.

Then, the Sunday before the first day of 7th grade, a new person my age showed up in my Sunday school class. This may sound like a normal occurrence. But, I’m from a small town, and new people were few and far between. This person offered me friendship, taught me how to make friendship bracelets and how to play Nintendo, and helped me make other friends. A few years later, this friend moved away. And we lost touch.

About ten years later, I had another person end up on my same path. I had been through some rough times emotionally. So, I assumed that God must have put this new person in my life to be my soulmate. After all, this person shared many of my same interests. But several years later, I was able to look back and see that person’s role was simply to teach me to trust again, which was no small task but seemed less significant considering the role that I had assumed that person was playing.

And then there are the people that I come across each day that have needs that pull on my heartstrings but I’m not sure what role I’m supposed to play. For instance, there is a man who lives outside my work building. He sits or stands beside a trash bin for most of the day. He has had the same set of clothes on for several years now and wears a winter jacket and long pants year-round. He never begs or even speaks to others, though sometimes he does appear to be talking to himself.

Having read Same Kind of Different As Me, an amazing book about the role a homeless man played and continues to play in the life of an international art dealer, I can’t walk by this homeless man without acknowledging his presence, if not with words, at least with a glance and a facial expression of some sort. I usually pray for God to provide for this man’s needs and help him find a real place to live and gainful employment. Yet, I struggle with whether I should be doing more.

I often wonder when I pray that prayer, “Lord, is it your desire to provide for this man‘s needs by having me bring him food? Should I offer him reading material to help pass the day? What’s my role? Just to listen? To pray? How do I show this man Your love without putting myself in danger?”

I don’t want my actions to be stifled by fear, but that last question is a nagging one. It reminds me of the line from The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe in which the children ask whether Aslyn is safe, and the reply goes something like, “Of course He’s not safe, but He’s good.”

“Lord, I know that You are good. I want to love others well. If that means praying for a person, please bring that person to mind often. If that means providing food, help me to be obedient rather than fearful. If that means extending a listening ear to someone, help me not to be so selfish with my time. Show me how to be salt and light to those You put in my path.”

Preparing To Have Fun

I now know why a lot of people don’t take vacations. It is WORK to get ready for one.

I’m in the middle of a huge project at work that I want to wrap up before I leave for vacation. And, I’m feeling “hard pressed on every side” as I try to make that happen. You see, I have appointments and errands and obligations before and after work each day, which limit my ability to work extra hours to get this huge project done.

But are all the things I’ve crammed into my schedule in preparation for vacation really necessary?

Did I need a haircut, a brow wax, and a pedicure? I tell myself that those were absolutely necessary because I am seeing my family. After all, I wouldn’t want to show up as the "Shaggy, Unibrow, Callous Foot Wonder" and embarrass them.

Do I “need” to get the dog bathed and get my house in “perfect” order for the housesitter? Obviously, I don’t want to be known as a slob or have the housesitter deal with the dog hair that is everywhere.


And then those familiar words hit me: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

You see, I am a Martha through and through. I want everything looking perfect. I want everything to be in order.

But at what cost? Sacrificing prayer time?

I see a definite correlation between the increase in my anxiety level and my absence of time with the Lord. I want to be prayed up for this trip--for good health, safe travel, and sweet time with family. But in order to do that, I must make prayer a priority and dispense with my preconceived notions of what I may or may not look like when I arrive and how my house might look while I’m gone.

Lord, I want to choose “what is better.” Help me. As I prepare for this trip, show me what really needs to be done.

The Smells on Memory Lane

Take a deep breath.

Did you smell anything familiar? Did you get a whiff of something that takes you back in time?

I did. And it brought me back to memory lane, or maybe I really never left after the music brought me here on Saturday.

I must confess that the sense of smell has always been strong in my family. I’m not sure if we have a heightened sense of smell. But there are just some smells that we can’t get enough of. And it’s actually kind of weird.

On any given day, if they lived in the city, you might catch my mom or some of her sisters at Payless Shoe Source walking the aisles, pretending to shop for shoes. Really though, they’re soaking up the smell.

And growing up, I used to love going grocery shopping at a small local store called Boysen’s because it had such a unique smell. The store has long since gone out of business. A church now meets in the building. So, I’ll just have to rely on my memory of how neat that smell was. (Unless, of course, I am bold enough to show up one Sunday just to get a whiff of the smell--which I’ve heard is still there.)

Two smells that bring back very fond memories are my grandmother’s dusty/musty 1966 Chevy Impala and the smell of rain at her house as it came through the metal window screens. Unfortunately, I can’t go soak up the love that came with those smells because Granny passed away last fall. I’m just hoping that my olfactory lobes can continue to duplicate those smells again each time I’m on memory lane.

But not all the smells that I’ve enjoyed have disappeared. My dad’s tool drawers are still in tact and take me back to days of seeing him teach high school kids how to fix cars. He was completely in his element then with a glass bottle of Dr. Pepper in hand.

Not too many rooms away, I can get a whiff of my mom’s jewelry box. I can remember her asking me to go get out a certain necklace with a locket on it so that she could wear it to church.

And then there are the scents of cologne and perfume that bring a certain person to mind. English Leather is what my dad and grandpa wore on special occasions, and on normal days, they smelled like the Lava soap that they’d used to wash away the dirt and grime on their hands.

After revisiting all these smells, I am reminded that “we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task?” (2 Cor. 2:15-16)

Lord, I recognize that I am not equal to such task. But that you have called me anyway and asked me to be the fragrance of life. Thank You for giving me wonderful examples of what it is to be a sweet fragrance. As I go out into the world, help my life to be an aroma that is pleasing to You.

Button Pushing

Ever had one of those days when you are embarrassed about the way you’ve responded to a situation? I’m not talking about the slight faux paus, like when I mess up a colloquialism and say something like "take another stab at the apple." I’m talking about responding to a situation in such a negative way that embarrassment sets in because the person on the receiving end would be hard-pressed to know that I am a Christian.

My buttons got pushed the other day by a customer service representative for an electric company. We didn’t get off to the greatest start because I kept having to ask her to repeat everything that she said because I couldn’t make out the words that she was saying or even identify if she was speaking English. Then, when I sat and listened to her, she kept asking if I was still on the line. It quickly turned worse when she couldn’t give me a straight answer to my simple question: How can I guarantee that you all will read my meter each month instead of estimating my usage? She had no answer; she read my account balance again and again and told me when the next meter reading would take place. Obviously, I was getting nowhere with her, so I asked to speak to a manager. She asked to put me on hold. Then she came back not once, not twice, not three times, but four times before she actually put me in the queue to speak to a supervisor. I tried to explain to the supervisor how frustrating my experience with the customer service rep had been, and he said in a monotone voice that my concerns would be passed along to the training division. They will send me a meter reading schedule. That’s it.

What am I leaving out? Possibly the despicable tone that I used. Oh, and the self-righteous attitude I conveyed. And the way I acted afterwards by telling lots of people about my bad experience and naming the company involved.

I had a similar encounter this weekend while purchasing a computer. I was told the computer would be ready at 6:30. I came back about 6:40 and was told the computer would not be ready until 8:00. I asked why they hadn’t called to let me know of the delay and received no answer; it was as if that’s not part of their protocol. So, I came back at 8:00 and was told it would be ready at 8:30. My patience ran out. I had a minor melt down but refrained from climbing over the counter and from crying–both of which seemed very likely in the heat of the moment.

I’m normally a pretty calm person. But for some reason, bad customer service representatives seem to push my buttons, even more than bad drivers and ignorant people. I guess I just feel like they don’t hear me, and by golly I deserve to be heard because I pay their company big bucks.

It sounds pretty gross to write that but that seems to be the way I operate with them. Maybe I expect too much. Maybe I should stop assuming that I will receive "customer care," and just realize that a lot of the people in these customer service positions don’t have the training or the desire to see my problem fixed.

Or maybe I should take my concerns up with Someone who really does care.

Thank you, Jesus, that I don’t have to queue up to talk to You. Thank You that You listen, that You speak my language, that You don’t refer me away to others but that You draw me to You.