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.”

Looking Up

I noticed the other day that I’ve fallen into a bad habit.

Whenever I take my dog for a walk, I keep my eyes on the ground. I’m constantly scouring the ground around us to see if there is anything that Annie might possibly decide to rescue or eat. She’s a golden retriever, so she feels that it is her task in life to bring me “treasures,” unless she happens to discern that such treasures are edible, at which point she eats that treasure and goes in search of a new treasure that she can bring to me.

And so our walk goes something like this, “No. . . . Don’t eat grass. . . . Drop it. . . . [goes a few steps without trying to retrieve anything] Good girl.” Repeat phrases until we have made it back home.

I know that part of this is due to her upbringing, but that’s not my point.

My point is that for a brief second the other evening, I took my eyes off the ground and looked up. At that moment, God took my breath away. He had painted one of the most gorgeous sunsets that we’ve had all summer. And I almost missed it.

It made me wonder how many gifts from God I’ve missed because I haven’t taken the time to get my eyes off myself or my circumstances and simply look up. Besides sunrises and sunsets, I bet I’ve missed a bunch of smiles. There have probably been rainbows and butterflies and all sorts of neat and beautiful things that I've missed out on.

I don’t want to miss out on these treasures any longer. And so as I begin to lift up my eyes more often, I challenge you to do the same and let me know what you see.

"I lift up my eyes to the hills--
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of Heaven and earth."
--Psalm 121:1-2

Childlike Anticipation

It doesn’t take Christmas for me to be filled with childlike anticipation. Though that feeling is usually centered around times with gifts. And gift giving to be more specific.

I have this trait/disorder of not being able to wait to give a gift. As soon as I buy a gift, I want to give it. But having family and friends who live more than a few hours’ drive away, it just isn’t feasible for me to be able to give them their gifts immediately. And the postal service can only go so far in one day unless you shell out the big bucks for the overnite ponies.

So I’ve come up with a new little habit. After I ship the package, I wait a few minutes, and then I get the urge to call to see if the package has made it. You’d think I’d be able to resist the urge. Surely as much as I’ve waited for other things in my life I could wait to hear from the recipient. But, I don’t.

Case in point: My sister’s birthday is tomorrow. I shipped her gift via Priority Mail on Friday morning. I knew her gift would arrive yesterday barring any mishandling or (gasp) loss of the package. And so I called. Not once, but twice yesterday to see if she’d gotten it. She hadn’t even made it home, and so I spoiled the surprise (not that she was getting a birthday present but that it was arriving that day). Spoiling the surprise doesn’t dissuade me from making the calls. I just need to know that the gift has arrived.

I’m sure that there are probably support groups out there for this little disorder that I suffer from. But, I don’t want to be cured. Instead, I’d rather have this childlike anticipation transfer over into other areas of my life. Like my spiritual walk.

What would it be like to apply that childlike anticipation to waiting for Jesus’s triumphant return? Or looking forward to Heaven? Or even just looking forward each day to what God might do in, around, and through me?

I don’t know, so I guess I’ll just have to try it.

In the meantime, happy birthday to my awesome sister!