Oh the voices…so many trying to drown out the Truth. Shutter my ears, Jesus, to the rambling, the opining, the gaslighting…to the celebrities and political pundits competing for air space. For that’s exactly what it is: AIR! And fleeting.
Jesus, help me to listen to the one in the wilderness: turn, prepare, swim against the others. Incline my ear and my whole heart to you, Jesus, for you are the Word, truly there in the beginning and most victoriously appearing in the end.
Maranatha.
I bumped into a couple of statements this weekend.
“The truth is most often quiet; lies are loud.” Source unknown.
It does seem like lies shout the loudest; half-truths, misrepresentations, and outright lies, meant to create doubt within us, do overshadow truth. I’m not good enough, I need _____ to be complete, and most dangerously, it’s really about me. How many more could we add to this list of deception?
Truth, often whispering, waits for us to find it; it doesn’t rely on exaggeration or manipulation. I’ve also found truth speaks a lot louder when we quiet our souls and plug into a reliable source. A lot of my “Mondays with Jesus” posts morph into letters I’m leaving my grandchildren. I’ll emphasize this one and the need to always plug into the only reliable source for all life’s decisions: the Triune God. Acts 17:11 comes to mind: Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so. And of course the words in Jeremiah: You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you…Jer.29.
And the other thought comes from Father David Guffey: Jesus can look into somebody’s heart and see what they need most. He was referencing the healing of the paralytic when Jesus says, after acknowledging his friends’ faith, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” He knew what the man really needed: redemption; the ability to walk was but an extra dose of compassion.
So on this Monday, I can’t take my eyes off of my Savior who sees my inmost need. The volume’s turned up, drowning out the lies.
Yesterday, I stopped for a few minutes to watch my pastor engage with his people. He had traveled much of the week to the island to preach revival services. The drive through afternoon traffic after a busy day can be exhausting; I make it often. No one would have judged him for slipping out after services, but there he was, making space for those he loved and others he would grow to better know.
Making space…it’s a rarity these days. Sure, we each have so many demands on our day that we’ve simply run out of room for anything else. Lately, I’ve been taking inventory of my 24 hours, discovering a lot of what fills them is desire-led and ego-driven. Like when I pour extra time into a project just to make me look better or chase a new want or temptation, each eating away at the limited day and adding not one precious thing to eternity. Ouch! So what’s my point? Some things are of course, non-negotiable, but that includes making room for God to use us for his purposes. When I examine the Gospels, I find Jesus living a rhythm that welcomed interruption and spontaneity and was relationship-led.
Take the time Jesus was on his way to heal a synagogue leader’s daughter when a woman with a 12 year bleeding problem touched his garment and she was instantly healed. Now, that’s an interrupted schedule. I suppose I would have kept pushing on to my “important” meeting, but not Jesus. He made space for a soul changing conversation, taking time to commend her for her faith, clear up any misconceptions about her healing and offer this woman a blessing of peace.
And then, there’s the Gentile woman who begs Jesus to heal her daughter. (By the way, Jesus was not calling her a dog, but simply clarifying his mission. Oh those pesky Greek words!) Again, He stretched time to explore her intentions and observe her faith. Her soul was forever changed as well.
What if I intentionally freed even 10 minutes in between each obligation and let God run with it. Ask Him to own that space. Whose soul would be touched? This I do know, others would be seen! Just like yesterday in the church’s coffee spot…a shepherd with his flock.
How long O LORD? How long must I have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? (Ps. 13) I imagine many in Israel join the psalmist David in asking these questions on this somber anniversary. Though the whole earth groans, today my thoughts settle on Israel and I prayerfully wait for the peace of Jerusalem. Waiting for the LORD to lift those remaining hostages out of their pits of despair, for reservists to return to their families and jobs, for the night sky to light up with heavenly stars, not man-made missiles.
I pray each misplaced mama, papa and child in this shattered region knows that God dwells with them in their wait. Even to the depths, He is there! (Ps. 139). As if He climbs in the pit to be near each before He reaches in to rescue. Only our omnipresent God can give such comfort.
This past week, I took my eyes off Jesus more times than I wish to admit; I shifted my focus to the waves of our tumultuous world. I left my position at the feet of Jesus, trading wonder and peace for angst. I didn’t deliberately decide to go wave-watching; I simply caught a glimpse of the chaos and chose to linger awhile. Forgetting to run back, I lost my view of the King of the Universe who holds all things together. Wave-watching is mesmerizing, addictive, captivating; before I knew it, my posture was completely off kilter. Silly things were irritating me and important matters loomed large; my flesh was winning the battle. I had left my joy at the feet of sovereign, compassionate, patient Jesus to watch waves I could not control. I did not drown, but I was waterlogged with sarcasm, judgement, fear. This morning, this imperfect vessel is again planted right back in front of the only One who pours life into her. It’s a lovely gaze!
“I had my life planned out,” she shared; I don’t think I heard another word after that. So did I!
I never planned to divide life by b.c. and a.c; before cancer/after cancer. We had cared for parents and grandparents with the dreaded diagnosis, but our family regrouped and returned to our life as we had known it.
Cancer was a season, not a lifetime companion. Gene mutations lived in a remote lab, not in my closest people. Scans were annual annoyances, not riddled with anxiety and IV’s were for blood donations, not life-sucking chemo infusions. A June 2013 diagnosis of pancreatic cancer changed everything and then, came breast cancer.
What is your before and after? Divorce, miscarriage, addiction, a career loss? How do you make a meaningful life amidst broken plans? I’ve been sitting with Jeremiah and the exiles in chapter 29 this week; every time I read it something new jumps off the page. For example, the Message translation includes a clause in verse 11: God promises, “I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out.” His after holds great promise; it’s your starting point, your foundation!
And this grabbed me: plant something new. Stop trying to make the shards of a past life sprout and start growing something new and beautiful. Plant a new relationship, a talent, something! Nourish it with love and hope and watch what God does. Read it for yourself; you’ll find inspiration.
This past weekend I met Doris, a brain cancer warrior, in Lynn Eib’s book, When God & Cancer Meet. This is how she loved her a.c.
life: Are you convinced that neither chemo nor radiation, neither scans nor surgery, neither good news, nor bad news, neither predictions nor unanswered prayers, nor anything else in all the world of cancer, will be able to separate you from the love of God that is yours in Christ Jesus?
Now, you fill in your own after and let’s both rest in His love and better plan.
The fall semester has begun and I’ve settled into a rhythm. Quiet Mondays after a hectic weekend and before a challenging midweek. If the Lord calls me to write, I suspect it will be a collection of thoughts that may not necessarily string together in a polished fashion, but a patch of thoughts that will guide my week. Monday musings….
One of my favorite things to do is to find an obscure book at a secondhand store. I usually ask God if He has something in mind for me before I begin my fun search. Last week, I found a thin book nestled between some heavy theology works: When God and Cancer Meet by Lynn Eib, a pastor’s wife and oncology counselor. She shares some poignant stories of her work with former patients; this one hit home! She writes of Lyle, a Leukemia patient, and his return to God. One of his quotes shook me: “I can’t believe I left the body of Christ.” Sit with that for a moment. It’s huge!
My parents left church after a conflict over tithing; by the grace of God, I found Jesus on the first day of my junior year through a little tract being passed out by Young Life. But I missed out on the life-changing experience in my early years. I have dear family and friends who too have left the body of Christ (that term sounds a lot more personal than church, doesn’t it?) I’m undone thinking of the remorse they might feel if their wake-up call comes late in life. Oh, Father, bring them back soon to the deep joy of meeting You in a fellowship, a body, of others seeking to know You more. This is my urgent prayer!
That brings me to my second reflection for this week: Jesus really does invite everyone to his Table. That includes the poor in spirit….those of us that recognize our heart’s poverty and dependence on God. In October, my church is offering a “Gathering in the Gym” on Sunday mornings. I can’t wait to see who Jesus has invited to his new table of worship, restoration, and life in Him. I truly believe this will be one of his finest fruits from our recent season of revival.
I’m reminded of these old hymn lyrics: earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling…Come Home!
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