Category Archives: obedience

Running my race . . .

 

Safe . . . protected under the shelter of God’s wings.

Those were the phrases that surfaced in my mind and the feelings that settled deeply within my soul when I awoke at my parents’ home yesterday morning – a Sabbath morning. Certainly the fact that I was with them and under their watchful care had something to do with the peace that I felt. Even more so, knowing that I was under God’s watchful care and firmly attached to his will and his strength, well this was a great grace for me—to know that I know that I know that all is well with my soul and that I could firmly and forcefully approach the day with certain confidence.

And so we went, Jesus and me together, sowing kingdom seed during the three morning services at Garner UMC. This is a big week for the folks in Garner. Their annual Relay for Life event will take place on Friday night at Lake Benson Park. The community will come out in force, none more so than the community that gathers each Sunday at Garner UMC. Their hearts are passionate about Relay, about this race for life. In a small way, my preaching was to be a rallying cry of sorts—a central meeting point for the saints to begin their intentional steps of pilgrimage toward Friday night’s festivities.

By the time the noon hour rolled around, I had a strong feeling that we had done what we came to do . . . God and me. His call to me to go and preach grace and my obedience therein—a corporate venture toward kingdom multiplication. A call not to solely reflect on my cancer survivorship but, more importantly, to address the issue of my soul survivorship. In doing so, in talking about what it means to survive this life with Jesus as my compass, everyone who made it out to Garner UMC yesterday morning was able to find their place and mark their paces in the survivor’s lap of the most important relay they will ever run—a relay for everlasting life with their everlasting King.

Safe . . . protected under the shelter of God’s wings. There we stood yesterday morning, linking arms for the kingdom cause, and I am undone with the memory of it all, unable to fully reflect in a few words what it meant to me. What it meant to my family—daughter, sons, husband, and father on the front pew, mother in the choir loft. What it meant to the congregants. I just know that it meant something special for all of us, and on this Monday morning, I am exceedingly grateful for yet another undeserved blessing from my Father’s heart and for the privilege of joining him on the front lines of grace.

I leave you with a few words my father wrote to me last evening; forgive me if they seem self-indulgent. Perhaps I’m not writing them for you. Perhaps more so, for my children and for their children for a season yet to come so that they, too, can hold this memory as part of their spiritual heritage and remember a day when Faith Elaine took to the pulpit and rallied the troops in the name of soul-survivorship and exclusively for the name and renown of Jesus Christ her Lord.

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It isn’t very often that a preacher gets to sit at the feet of another preacher; especially when that preacher is your daughter. I sat on the front pew this morning—watching, listening, and feeling some very deep and heart-warming ‘moments’, as I heard Elaine preach. Tonight, to reflect or write on what I experienced would be fruitless—some things are too deep, too precious, and too sacred. Silence is often the best response to the ‘deepest of things’. One of these days I might be able to, but not tonight. So, let me offer a prayer instead—a prayer that I keep nearby and use it often. While the author is unknown, it comes out of the 17th Century, entitled, A Nun’s Prayer.

“Lord, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing old and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

“Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

“I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

“Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint—some of them are so hard to live with—but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so. Amen.”

Goodnight, Elaine, sleep well, and when the morning greets you with the rising sun, you will hear music, the kind of music we all heard this morning. Keep singing that Song! 

Dad 

 

Easter tears . . .

 

“As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of the God’s coming to you.’” –Luke 19:41-44

 

 

Easter tears. I cried a few yesterday, somewhat like the ones Jesus must have cried over his people on his approach to Jerusalem.

There are still so many who’ve yet to recognize the time of God’s coming to them. It seems to me that the time is now. There’s no time like the present time to take hold of truth and the Truth-Giver. Or so it seems.

Maybe it’s my heart that is clouded by too much expectation—my great desire for friends, family members, and strangers alike to finally wake up to the realities of Jesus and to get down to the business of their salvation. What could be keeping them from making this life-altering decision? What possible rationalization could be offered that would make their delay a reasonable choice?

I don’t see it. I don’t get it. Apparently they don’t as well.

A frustrating wait. A grief painfully carried. Thus, my Easter tears.

If only they knew what would bring them peace.

They may not know, not yet. But I know. The answer to my Easter tears is my Easter Jesus. He is the Peace-Bringer – the Sword who slices through joint and marrow and pierces the soul with undeniable strength and clarified precision. Only Jesus is able to cut through the veil that shrouds the ignorant heart, exposing rotten flesh and offering his fresh grace in exchange.

Only Jesus. He is what they (the lost) need to know.

What about me? What about you? What do we need to know moving forward? What will bring us peace while we linger with our Easter tears?

Only Jesus. He, too, is what we need to know. Every day. Intentional investments in the curriculum named Jesus. Allowing the Teacher to pour into our souls so that we might, in turn, pour out to others.

To walk where he walks. To weep as he weeps. To pray as he prays. To speak as he speaks.

Only Jesus. This is our responsibility. It doesn’t get more responsible than this, friends. When we take on the mantle of Christianity—when we dare to call ourselves by Christ’s name—then we become responsible for something far greater than ourselves. We become care-takers of the kingdom, extraordinary shareholders of a lavish grace. A people who willingly release Easter tears for those who’ve yet to realize what would bring them peace.

When we no longer weep for the lost, then perhaps our souls need a divine sword-piercing as well. It’s not about us, Christians. We know the way home. It’s about them—those who wander aimlessly without a divine compass and who foolishly reason their navigational skills as adequate.

If only they knew what would bring them peace.

If only.

May God quicken our hearts with a response and moisten our eyes with heaven’s fuel to get the job done.

Peace for the journey,

Lying Down . . .

 

I’m not a huge fan of the Academy Awards, not because I have anything against honoring quality art via the silver screen but mostly because of the seemingly endless parade of the self-impressed. Couple this with the fact that I haven’t seen ninety-nine percent of the movies up for awards, and well, let’s just say my interest peeks with the red carpet and its dazzling display of gowns.

I am, however, a fan of good words spoken at the right time. Certainly, movies are filled with many such moments, but when those moments happen off stage (when the actor removes the mask and throws the script to the sidelines in favor of real-life drama), I’m duly impressed by the dialogue. Such was the case with Daniel Day-Lewis following his 3rd Oscar win for his portrayal of Abraham Lincoln. Backstage after his win, Daniel was asked regarding his plans for the future, about what character he might like to play next. His response immediately gripped my heart:

“I need to lie down for a couple of years. It’s really hard to imagine doing anything after this.” (see source)

He’s going to lie down. Take a lengthy sabbatical with his family on his fifty acre farm south of Dublin, Ireland. Work on other things, like perfecting his cobbling (shoe-making) abilities or learning the rural skill of stonemasonry. Just “happily working away at other things.” (see source) Daniel Day-Lewis is going to lie down for a season, away from the stage and the bright lights of the big city.

What a wise choice.

I am challenged to follow his lead. Bright lights and big stages serve their purposes, but once the curtain goes down and the camera crew heads home, it’s time for a breather. Time to fuel up, rest up alongside the still waters where the only stage beneath my feet is carpeted with green pastures and the only light framing my steps radiates from the candle of the Shepherd.

My lengthy sabbatical with God to happily work away at other things.

Those things? Well, I don’t imagine it’s important to discuss them here. What is important is knowing that those things exist and that only by my lying down for a season will I be able to most happily, most agreeably engage with them. The good that grows in the pasture is not easily grown on the stage. Bright lights and big audiences—too much shine and too much recognition—dim the eyes and dull the senses, kind of like a blundering sheep in need of a wise Shepherd.

Life is changing for me . . . again. I must travel with the shifting wind, not against it. To fight my lying down is to relinquish the merry pleasures of rest. To linger on the stage after the curtain is drawn and the audience has departed is to stand alone and to feel lonely. But to leave with them? To trade in the stage for God’s greener pastures where dialogue is limited to just the Shepherd and me? Well I don’t suppose I’ve ever felt more enveloped in the fellowship of the Beloved.

I need to lie down for a while, friends. This doesn’t mean I won’t be here from time to time. Every sheep needs a flock, and you are mine. I simply need to give myself permission to happily work away at other things.

Soul things. Intimate things. God things.

Lying beside the still waters and on a blanket of green.

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

Unparalleled Obedience

I’ve been reading Lynn Austin’s book series, Chronicles of the King. The first few books in this fictional series bring color and depth to the life of a real king—Hezekiah—who reigned over Judah from 716/15 – 687/86 B.C. Because of my love for “period pieces” and out of my love for the Bible, Ms. Austin’s books are a good fit for my heart, even though artistic licensing is at work. A little imagination from her pen spurs mine along, fostering my thinking about God, his people, and their constant struggle to understand him, honor him, and, ultimately, to obey him. It seems to me the Israelites were always stepping just outside the parameters of who God intended for them to be. No wonder my fascination; I see my story written in theirs.

Now, take these books, stand them alongside my journey with the 7th year and, then, prop them both up beside the current ministry road I’m traveling with my family. In doing so, one theme emerges for me. One phrase. One challenge. One certain and strong whisper from the Father’s heart into mine.

Unparalleled obedience.

This is what God expects of me in this season; not that he hasn’t expected it from me in my earlier seasons or that all of life shouldn’t be met with supreme allegiance to the King. But now, right now, is the time when I see this most clearly, feel this most deeply, and understand this most fully.

Now is the time to walk the hard road of unparalleled obedience. Now is NOT the time to monkey around with my faith or play Russian roulette with God’s grace. Now is NOT the time to chase fires (remember that story?); now is the time to stay on the path with no straying. There’s too much on the line, and God is closely watching my steps.

Accordingly, I must guard my heart so that God can most clearly guide my steps. Unparalleled obedience requires intentional focus—a willing yielding to what God says even when what God says feels restricting. A little restriction . . . a little “uncomfortable and inconvenient” is small surrender in comparison to what God wants to offer in exchange—his favor. His direction. His voice. God has a plan, and I don’t want to miss it because of my unwillingness to apply my heart, mind, and soul toward obedience.

So what does this look like for me? How will I go about guarding my heart and mind in Christ Jesus? Here’s my fix (simple in scope; harder in sequence):

Fix my heart on God’s heart.

Fix my mind on God’s Word.

Fix my soul on God’s forever.

However he loves, whatever he says, and wherever he lives, this is where I must reside if I want to walk in unparalleled obedience to my King. When the heart wanders, the mind strays, and the soul lingers within worldly boundaries not tempered by eternal realities, the only allegiance given is to the cravings of the flesh that will never finish me “holy” but, instead, wholly hamper me.

I don’t imagine I’ve ever been more seriously inclined toward godly obedience. I do imagine God thinking it’s about time.

How about you? Is God calling you to an unparalleled obedience in this season—a time of walking the straight line of faith? No chasing a distant fire but, instead, staying firmly on the God-ordained path in front of you and making sure that any misstep is quickly confessed and corrected so that you don’t forgo the next glory God has in store for you?

I do believe that an unparalleled obedience to God and his rule is a requirement for a growing faith. I also believe that we sometimes don’t take it as seriously as we should. Casual obedience fosters casual faith—a sloppy belief system that cripples us instead of equipping us. Too much of that kind of monkeying around and we’ll find ourselves outside of Canaan and on the road toward captivity.

I don’t know about you, but I want to live free. Funny thing . . . to live there, I must live an unparalleled obedience to the King, chained to his heart, his Word, and his forever. However he loves. Whatever he says. Wherever he lives. Here is where I will wait. The next move belongs to God, and my eyes are fixed in anticipation of his glorious revelation. Greater still, my will is ready to obey.

Indeed, I think it’s about time. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

PS: For a free, Kindle download of the first book in Lynn Austins’ series, Gods and Kings, click here!

holiness

I have a few minutes this morning (just a few . . . we’re in the middle of percents and decimals over here; for the record, I didn’t understand them when I was in the 6th grade; at forty-six years old, I can’t say my grasp is much better, but I digress. Forgive me; it happens a lot these days. Homeschooling is a real buzzard at times). So with earplugs in place to drown out the background noises of the DVD instruction taking place in the adjacent kitchen, I sit down in front of my computer to ask you, even as I am asking myself, a question.

What allowances in your life are hampering your pursuit of holiness? What temporal triggers are you tolerating that are messing up God’s eternal mandate to you to “Be holy, because I am holy.” (1 Peter 1:15-16)?

I know this is a weighty question attached to an even weightier requirement. But it belongs to us as God’s children, both the question and the requirement. We cannot forsake them in the name of relevancy or of being compatible with a world that is adamantly opposed to and kicking against the tenets of a surrendered life. The world will always kick against surrender. Why? Because surrendering requires submission to a higher authority thereby relinquishing control to that higher authority. When surrender suits our fancy—when our ears are tickled and our flesh is fed and dressed with temporal delights—we’re quick to bend the knee. When surrender suits God’s fancy—when our hearts are pricked and our flesh is drained of temporal delights in order to make room for his everlasting righteousness—we’re slower to yield.

We’re still so very attached to this world, are we not? Still holding on to the little we have left (our possessions and our flesh) falsely assuming that the more we manage them, the more we control them, the greater our contentment in the end.

What tragedy! What defeat! What exhaustion! We’re killing ourselves in exchange for a few moments of temporary pleasure instead of dying to ourselves in exchange for a lifetime of eternal treasure. When and where and how did our consecrated focus turn into wretched blindness? Was yours a quick plunge into dissipation or a slow fade into darkness? Again, my question to you and to myself . . .

What allowances in your life are hampering your pursuit of holiness?

Let me suggest a practical approach to answering this question; time is of the essence (not just in the 6th grade classroom, but in the classroom called life):

  • Make a list. Find a pencil, a piece of paper, and some quietness. Open up your mind and your heart before the Father and list every allowance in your life that is a hindrance to your pursuit of holiness. Television? The Internet? Music? Habits? Attitudes? Memories? Compulsions? Addictions? If you’re not sure whether or not these allowances are in keeping with God’s mandate for holiness, then ask yourself the following questions:

What am I feeding? My soul or my flesh? Would God linger here . . . in this place of my allowance? How does my soul feel after I’ve pushed away from the table? Full, empty, or soured? Once you’ve made your list, then . . .

  • Make a commitment. Prayerfully consider this list before God and allow him his voice in the matter of your holiness. Take time to read a few scriptures pertaining to holiness and give attention to the Holy Spirit’s prompting within. Here are a few to get you started: 1 Peter 1:13-25, 2 Corinthians 6:14 – 7:1, Romans 6:15-23, Hebrews 12.

What “letting go”, what surrender is he asking of you in order to make more room for the holiness he longs to pour into you? God will not leave you hanging here; if you are earnestly and sincerely approaching the Father regarding the matter of personal holiness, he will clearly and directly approach you regarding his. Listen in, and, then, with his mandate in mind . . .

  • Make a move. Don’t sit on conviction. Move on it. Start crossing off your allowances, one at a time, even if it hurts. If you tarry with your conviction (thinking perhaps that by thinking on it another day will clear the matter up), you’ll lose it. You’ll no longer be convinced that this particular allowance is hindering your holiness. Instead, you’ll coddle it, keep it close to your soul until it moves you so far away from the voice of Jesus, you’ll no longer be able to discern his amongst those competing for your attention.

Make a move. Do it while you have the borrowed strength from the Holy Spirit to do so. When you entertain Jesus in your heart, you have the enabling power of all heaven to move you forward in your consecrated pursuit of holiness.

There you have it; my few minutes. Actually, a few more than a few. There have been some interruptions along the way. No matter. At noon, my heart is still fixed upon what my heart was fixed upon at the beginning of my day . . .

My pursuit of holiness. To make a list, make a commitment, and then, by God’s empowering grace, to make a move in the right and good direction.

To God I go. To God I will cling. To God be the glory; great things he is doing in the lives of his children! Keep to it, friends. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

 PS: I couldn’t have just one winner of the If Birds Could Fly CD, so Lori and Laura, you’re both going to get a copy! Beth just met with Brittany at Pizza Hut; once I have them, I’ll mail them to you. Enjoy.

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