The Paperless Journey: 2010

Christmas Gold

‘Twas the quarter before Christmas

And in the conference room,

Sat a group of worried businessman

Saying Christmas is coming soon.

With blank looks on their faces

They scratched their heads and said,

“We need to do something quickly,

Or our profit margin’s dead.

Our factories still sit stagnant

No one wants to buy

All the crap we’re trying to sell them

Think everyone. Let’s try,

To solve this looming danger

Our mortgages are due

Snap, snap! Think! think!

Before the holidays are through!”

They sat and sat, for hours

Brainstorming what to do

When suddenly, one lifted brow

And raised index finger too,

Tapped a chin so lightly,

Thoughts whirling in his brain, and
Like an avalanche off a mountain
The brilliant idea - it came!
“I got it! I got it!” the man exclaimed

As he stood up on his chair,

“Listen! Listen! Listen to this!

It’ll fill your hearts with cheer.

It’s really quite so simple,
A brilliant plan. You'll see!
Here's the best proposal

I’ll explain it easily.
We’ll create a graven image
A demigod he'll be,

Requiring guilty worship

Of everyone.

Let’s see…

Let's make him sort of manlike,

Full of laughter, whim and glee,

But also with the power of god
With magic eyes that see.
Every action good or bad
Of every boy and girl,
He'll have the power to control
The whole entire world!

A King, or boss, a C-O-O

Of a whimsical factory,

That sits so shiny, gleaming bright

In a perpetual land of snow

With workers… No! Magical elves

How about the North Pole!

He’s berth, round, very plump,

He’ll be loved and adored!

He’s the reason that we shop

And fill our many stores.

Goodies, gifts, and trinkets,

All of it they’ll need,

It’s brilliant! Genius! Foolproof!

A grand idea, you see!

We create a magical story,

Their stockings he will fill.

If they just believe he’s coming,

Fill them up he will!

He’ll be so fat and jolly

Like us - a bearded old elf.

And all of us, well… we’ll laugh

We’ll laugh in spite of self.

He’ll be our children's hero,

Saint will start his name

It’s moral, quaint, and sacred

It’s really just the same. For,

The wise men brought gifts to Jesus,

To the Christ child, can't you see!

Why then shouldn’t Santa Claus

Bring to you and me!

If Santa Claus forgets their child,
Oh, what guilt they'll feel!
They'll crack from all the pressure,

They will buy, they will!
It’s a brilliant, brilliant, brilliant plan,

We made a god! Behold!

Our go-to guy, our saving grace

Our Christmas gift of gold!

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" cried the room,

Of savvy businessmen,

"It’s Christmas gold!" (applause) "Well done!

Thank you all! Amen!"

“Well done, well done, well done my boy!”

They said as they left the room.

“Let’s get started, there's not much time

For all the work to do

Go tell, go tell, go tell them all

Santa’s coming soon!”

Inside their plush and fancy cars,

They drove out of sight, cheering

“A merry Christmas to all!

It’s going to be all right!"
We’ll make our profit easily

By preying on each child,

To praise our commercial demigod,

Who’ll make their faces smile.

Our profit margins will fly up,

Our stock will hit the roof,

Oh, thank you, thank you,

Santa Claus, we’ll owe it all to you!"

It's encouraging to me when I see that the men and women who walked and talked with Jesus asked Him real questions. To clarify real, I mean they are questions resulting from emotions or thoughts that still occur in the majority of mankind. They denote feelings of pride, doubt, jealousy, bitterness, hatred, sadness, grievance, open the list and it’s there. One of those questions has recently popped off the page in 3-D. It is asked in the Gospel of John by Peter to Jesus.

Jesus appears to seven of the disciples after His resurrection and sits around a fire with them eating a breakfast of charcoaled fish and bread. Simon Peter, the impulsive and passionate disciple who proudly stated that he would never fall away, even if others did, sits among them and eats with the Lord he publicly denied knowing three separate times. They finish breakfast and in a grace-filled moment Jesus publicly restores a grieved Simon Peter with forgiveness and a commission to feed, tend and care for His flock.

After this, Jesus tells him to what length he was to glorify God “…When you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.”(vs.18) The good news, Peter would remain a faithful servant. The bad news, it was going to carry him where he did not want to go.

Moments later when Peter sees the disciple John following them, he curiously asks, "Lord, what about this man?" Jesus rebukes him. “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow Me!”(vs22)

Based on the fact that Jesus responded to the question with a rebuke, I can't help but speculate about the reason Peter is asking it. There are many instances where Jesus answers questions to directly penetrate and reveal what He knows is going on in the person's heart. Peter's question, "Lord, what about this man?" is one of those real questions emanating from a man concerned with what is purposed for another. It's the question that coiled up and bounced in front of me because it's the same one I've been asking the Lord lately.

Why is that person saved and this one isn’t? Why did you allow that one to be healed, but not this one? Why will you allow that one to secure a job, but not this one? Why does he have to struggle but that one doesn’t? I know you have this for me, but are you going to give them special favor? Am I going to suffer while they get to live a life full of love and special revelation? And so on. To put it in a nutshell, "What about him?"

The prideful focus of my heart is exposed, and the Lord in a grace-filled moment rebukes me with a question he knows will lead to my greatest joy. “What is that to you?” He let’s me know that in that moment I’ve become too preoccupied with what is not meant for me. It’s not mine to figure out, and even if He was to give me the answer, He knows it wouldn’t suffice because it’s only a small piece of the larger picture.

His rebuke while sounding harsh isn't meant to frustrate or cause me pain. It's for my good. It's His loving way of keeping me focused on what He has for me to do while walking with Him. If I'm continually going around pointing fingers and saying, "What about that guy?" he knows I'm likely to stray like a dog that follows the instincts of his nose and ends up lost and far away from its loving master.

Parables

   Parables.
   This word has been resonating with me lately. One of the many reasons I find Jesus so fascinating is that he was able to take the practical, day to day situations of those sitting around him and use them to teach about his Father in heaven. When I ponder this, I realize how often I am fooled into believing that God is only understood by those who think on a higher spiritual plane.
   I have friends who are well-read and versed in scholarly knowledge. They can quote deep thinkers and puritan literature. It's their passionate desire to echo the sentiments of those considered reputable in the area of Christianity and to have every word dripping off their lips be filled with depth, meaning and the richness of life. They use Twitter and Facebook to send out profound spiritual quotes and point everything they say back to the Lord and his greatness.
   I have other friends who couldn't list one biblical scholar or "great" thinker if you asked them to, much less quote them. They speak soundly and deeply at times, but it's not their passion to find the spiritual purpose behind a cricket. It's a cricket, God made it, and that's enough for them. They aren't dumb or unable to appreciate deep truth, in fact, they have just as much of a spiritual depth as the former group. It's just manifested in a different, less intense way and most often in a language that can be understood by the vast majority of people.
   When I read about Jesus teaching the multitudes that surrounded him, I see that he meets them where they are. He uses agricultural, relational, monetary and cultural examples to teach, explain and reveal who the Father is, what heaven is like, and how we all miss the mark because of our sinful natures. Many of them were women and men who weren't highly educated or literate, so he taught them with stories and visual aids. It wasn't rocket science or vague philosophy. It was deep truth wrapped in the practical, tangible details of life.
   I thoroughly enjoy deep conversations about the Lord, but on most days my conversations revolve around those day to day details. Watching Jesus (through reading His word) teach the parables has been a great encouragement to me. It's been a beautiful reminder that He, through his Spirit, is able to use what I might see as ordinary to teach and reveal more of Himself, just as He did while sitting with the multitudes of people. If I prayerfully ask Him to reveal the depth wrapped in the details, I know He will.

A Gift of Flesh and Bones

The moment the breath of life was exhaled through the nostrils of man, each bone, muscle fiber, nerve, and limb had been sculpted in the exact location to fulfill its intended and specific purpose. The man wasn't the first creation. The artist had already designed a solar system, the sun, the expanse of the sky and the round solid earth. He had created the waters of the seas and caused the rivers and streams to come up from beneath. He had planted and grown a garden full of all kinds of trees that were pleasing to the eye. The man had been shown many creatures. He gave them names. There were birds, fish, livestock, each having an opposite according to its own kind. The Lord God had created an entire eco-system where symbiotic relationship, everything working together in glorious symphony, played all around the man. Life meant purpose, union, relationship, connectedness, not only with the creation but most importantly with the creator himself. It was glorious. Glorious, like the One by whom and for whom it was created. The Lord God saw that man was alone, the only one of his kind, and it was not good. Being the imagineer and detail-oriented wonder He is, the Lord God knew exactly what was needed to fulfill and complement the man. This creation would have an intended and specific purpose. The artist allowed the man the honor and privilege of being part of this plan, and the outcome was going to be beyond anything he would ever imagine.
The man was caused to fall into a deep sleep, a rib was taken from him and used to form the new creation. Every bone, muscle, nerve, and curve was sculpted in the exact place for its intended and specific purpose. The Lord God was forming what would be a suitable "ezer" for the man. One equal to him in humanity, one of his own kind, with the breath of life breathed into her. The Lord God brought her to the man. As Adam studied this gift, he discovered that she was like him in many ways, but different in others. Not made with feathers, fur or scales like the fish, they were both formed from the same material, flesh and bone sharing the same abilities to reason, speak, smile, laugh and respond to each other. She was made in man's likeness as an opposite of his own kind. No suitable helper had been found -- not until that moment. Adam called her woman, because she was taken out of him and formed, made with flesh both in kind and creation. God had used Adam's flesh to cover her wound, making her flesh of his flesh. She was his to be with in both body and soul, to eat of good fruit, to be fruitful and multiply. The Lord God had offered what the man knew he couldn't have made or created himself.

"This is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh;

and she shall be called 'woman' for she was taken out of man."

Creation, a beautiful representation of what already existed in the heavenly realms. God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit existing together in unity and connectedness. Creation, the shadow of their image both in form and function. They were there at the beginning. "In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."(John 1:1) "Let us make man in our image in our likeness..." She shall be called "mine" for she was taken out of man. Poetically wondrous. She shall be called "mine" for she was taken out of man. Prophetically amazing.

Man walked with the I AM who walked in the garden in the cool of the day. The father, Creator of our being. Our teacher, sustainer, helper, caretaker, everything that we were designed to reflect through the gifts he gave us. Awe was to be felt at the sound of His name, for he had created everything from nothing. It was very good. Then one sad day, all was lost. The wholeness was fractured causing a wound. We had been told to avoid what was going to hurt us, but despite a loving father's warning, rebellion reigned in our hearts. Before the ten commandments were given to Moses on the mount, one had already been broken. We didn't honor our father. When we heard Him walking in the garden in the cool of the day, we hid (as guilty children often do.) We knew we hadn't listened and that something terribly wrong had happened because of it. It was not good.

Hundreds of years later while the earth still groaned knowing that something terribly wrong had happened, God began to create. In the womb of a chosen servant He created a baby. Every bone, muscle, nerve and limb was designed with intention and a specific purpose. This baby grew to be a man in stature and wisdom. When God brought Him to us, we studied him and saw that He was like us in form with the same ability to reason, laugh, feel emotion, and breathe, but He was also different in many ways. He walked with us, reconnecting us with the Father we had been separated from, lovingly warning us which things to avoid for both our protection and ultimate joy. He liked to go into the garden and pray in the cool of the day. He gave us purpose and breathed the breath of life back into Lazarus and those he resurrected from the dead. He told us He is the one prophesied to come and in Him we would bear much fruit, being fruitful in spirit, and multiply, becoming fishers of men. We were meant to be the shadow of the reality, of the image that exists in the heavenly realms. "I am in you, and you are in me," he says. "I am the vine, and you are the branches. With me, you will bear much fruit. Apart from me you can do nothing." You will be my bride, and shall be called "mine" for you are a part of me.
In this created man, the Father brought a suitable "ezer" to us. A perfect gift. Jesus. This man was put into a deep sleep, his body was broken and his flesh was used to cover the wound made when man and woman had disobeyed and brokenness occurred. God breathed the breath of life back into His nostrils on the third day, and Jesus left the tomb to go reconcile Himself with those he called his own. "Look at my hands and feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have," he says to the disciples. He was flesh of their flesh, bone of their bone. Not a ghost, or an apparition. He was a man, a gift made in their own likeness. Humanity and God wrapped up in one. After forty days, He ascended into the heavens to be with the Father. He says that he is preparing something for His children. A place where those He calls mine will be with Him once again. Being the imagineer and detail-oriented Creator he is, that place is going to be beyond anything our minds could ever imagine. And it will be very good. Glorious and awe inspiring, just as it was in the beginning.

My Haunting

On my Facebook post, I recently used the phrase, I'm being haunted. It might sound hyperbole, but in my mind, heart and spirit, I am being haunted. My friend asked me what is going on and commented, that sounds ominous. Well, she's right. It is ominous. Ominous things are menacing, threatening, scary, foreboding, and very unwelcome. For some, the word haunted might conjure creepy shows dealing with ghosts, demons and supernatural evils. Well, I'm not experiencing shaking tables and ghoulish spirits but there is something compulsively and excessively bothering my spirit to the point that it has at moments overcome me with deep despair, and a feeling of oppression in my soul. I know what it is. I'm familiar with it because I experienced something similar to it about ten years ago. Since, I've been used to it coming and going like an occasional high wave washing up on the sand. It hasn't stayed for long during those times. But for the past week and a half, it has been lingering. I'm at the point of annoyance. It has occurred to me that perhaps the best way to allow it to float away is to stop enabling it to linger in my mind. Maybe the pen will be my sword. I'll warn you that it's not the most uplifting story, nor will it be easy for some to read. The following images are the ones that stand out most. Together they form a story. I know not a complete one because they are only based on my view of the situation. Everyone in my family would have something different to say, but these are snapshots of moments that I experienced. The span of time was seven months, and I don't know everything. Much was never talked about. But it was real. My mother's unexpected illness and painfully lonely death is my haunting.

SNAPSHOTS

Walking in the door to see her head on the bar not knowing why she was crying.
Hugging her trying to think of words to console her as she cried on my shoulder telling me she wanted to always be here for me.
Her looking at me while talking with a friend on the phone saying she knew I was the reason she should fight it.
Holding the syringe while she became annoyed at my timidity to give the shot in her hip
The horrifying image of her strong body slowly turning to a bloated frail skeleton.
My grandmother's understandable forcefulness trying to get mother to eat peaches even though she felt sick and weak from her chemo.
Seeing her try to wear a wig but give up wearing a handkerchief.
With tape bounded around her wrists from being poked so much with needles for iv's, she sat at the table putting puzzles together to give her something to do.
Watching her cry and agonize how hard it was for her to handle it all while my grandmother made her recite the Serenity Prayer.
Not knowing what to say to my grandmother when she sat at the kitchen table crying knowing that her daughter was not getting better.
Getting yelled at for attending a grief support group with my boyfriend at the time's mother who loved me through all of it.
Crying on my aunt's bar because I was tired of being told how I didn't love my mother because I wasn't spending every moment by her bedside.
Not knowing the answer to the question of why my mother was sick because she was so young.
Sitting next to my mother hoping she might have something special to pass down to me only to listen to her apathetic voice saying it doesn't matter who ended up with things, because none of it mattered.
Watching a woman begin fighting as hard as she could, only to end up laying in a hospital bed after receiving radiation. Listening to doctors convince her to take medicine even though they knew it probably wouldn't heal her.
Never hearing her tell me that she was going to die. That the medicine wasn't working, but overhearing it in conversations my grandmother was having. Watching my mother despair knowing her life was finished.
Watching Hospice come to the house during the final weeks. Telling us what to expect and how much longer.
Entering her room one day, and in a moment that seemed both chaotic (as I watched my grandparents cleaning up the waste the body releases before it ends its existence), and surreal, I sat at her bedside and watched as her chest began to move in a sharp, shallow way. I watched her breathe her last breaths, while my grandparents were oblivious that their daughter was leaving. Seeing the sadness, and hearing my grandfather ask me if she was dead, I got up and left the room to call my aunt. Mom had died.
I don't remember crying. There were people, plants, caskets to go pick out, rides to the church, the cemetery. The awkwardness of wondering what my aunt and grandmother would feel that my dad had brought my step-mom to the funeral.
Wondering where I would live now. My dad lived in a different city, but all my friends and family lived there. I was fifteen. I was self-absorbed. Looking back, I was completely detached and in a foreign land of confusion with no guide. It was survival. It was unexpected tragedy in a disconnected and messed up family.

Why does this haunt me today? That's easy to pinpoint. I'm healing from a surgical procedure. It was nothing serious, in fact, when I'm all healed, my quality of life will be even better than before. And it was great before, so realistically, I should just be enjoying my time of recovery. Instead, as I lay here with my feet propped up, and my daughter and son have to help me with even the smallest of tasks, I hate it. Not because I don't think it's good for them to learn how to serve others, but because I'm still being compulsively and excessively bothered in my spirit by this haunting. I transfer my fear that my children will have an image like I did singed into their psyches unreasonably, and I despise it. As I sit here I face the fact that even twenty-one years later, the past still has a hold on me. Yes, there was tragedy in my life, but I desire to be as Joseph and see that what was meant for evil or despair, God meant for good. My life is not anyone else's, it's mine how He purposes it. I am His and what that promises me is liberty under His grace, abundant love from a powerful, loving Father and a promise that He will never leave or forsake me. That is a power and promise I never saw nor heard through my family in our time of tragedy. It's a horrible and terrifying way to face suffering. But may the Lord allow it to be different with me. May I be a faithful servant through suffering, hardship, and blessing. I swing my sword and may the haunting go away.

Guilty As Charged

It was early morning and Jesus was sitting down teaching all the people who were coming to Him. A large scuffling of feet mixed with a woman's wailing distracted them. With strong hands cuffed around her arms, a group of prominent religious leaders dragged the woman towards the center of the court and set her firmly in front of Jesus.

"Teacher, this woman is an adulterer! We bear witness that she was in the very act of it when we caught her," the men spoke, disgusted at her wretchedness.

"Now, in the Law Moses commanded to us, it says that such a woman is a sinner and should be stoned. What then do You say we should do?" they asked, their hearts filled with malicious intent to trap and accuse Jesus.

Jesus was quiet and stooped down to write on the ground. Impatient with His pause, the prominent religious leaders persisted that Jesus give them His answer. As Jesus stood up before them, the group of men hushed ready to hear His verdict.

"He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her," he said to them.

After speaking this, He stooped down and continued writing on the ground. The group of leaders slowly began to dwindle, leaving one by one, the older men first. Only Jesus was left, and the woman in the center. He stood up and said to her, "Woman, are there any left that accuse you? Is anyone left that condemns you?" "No one, Lord," she answered. Then Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more." (John 8:1-11 paraphrased)

I sat amazed at the scene that had just played in front of me. My heart began to stir with affection towards the man called Jesus as I realized the depth of His words. Of all those men, who among them had legitimate claim as one without sin? Who had the right to throw the first stone at the guilty, adulterous woman? ... Jesus did. But what did He throw at her?... Grace, mercy and freedom from condemnation.

A painful death of stones hitting her body with brute force would have been the lawful punishment due her had Jesus not spoken for her. But for His unmerited favor at that moment, the story would have had an alternate ending. I wanted to follow the woman. What happened after she left the temple? Did she run home relieved and a bit confused? As she sat at her table the next morning was she filled with awe? Did a sudden giddiness that her many sins had been forgiven by the man others were calling "the Lord" fill her soul? Did her giddiness turn into an unexplainable joy?

There were others that witnessed the scene. The people had gathered to listen to Him teach, and what a lesson He had taught them in that moment! Perhaps they were amazed. Quite possibly there were many sinners in the crowd around Him. Sinners who had come to the temple to present offerings to cover their guilt.

Did they go tell others, catching the ears of others like her? Others like the harlot who had the audacity to enter into a prominent religious leader's house upon hearing that Jesus was there. Bringing an Alabaster jar of expensive perfume, she did a taboo thing and entered the scene without a head covering. As she stood behind Him weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears, wiping them with her uncovered strands, kissing them and pouring precious perfume over them. Because she had been forgiven much, being near Jesus and worshipping Him was worth more than the approval of the arrogant man reclining at the table silently scoffing her as a sinner. Accusation against her mattered not because she was desperate for what she heard Jesus could bestow on her, an unclean sinner.

Jesus made certain she didn't leave His presence disappointed. In a brilliant moment, He praised her before her accusers, pouring over her the forgiveness for her many sins and a peace that would pass all understanding. "Go in peace," he said. She was now saved by His unmerited favor.

Just as Jesus did for the woman caught in adultery, He did for the harlot who washed His feet. There was no need for a guilt offering that day. Jesus covered them. He bestowed forgiveness over them. Sinners having nothing to offer but guilt, tears and vulnerability, He spoke on their behalf. He so compassionately and lovingly covered them with what only He could give. He was enough.

"Then He said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here and observe My hands.

Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Don't be an unbeliever, but a believer.'" (John 20:27)

Lord, stir in us a new longing this Easter. A longing for what only You can give, making us believers, restoring any doubt that we might have in You. May Your death and propitiation for our sins be enough. There is no longer any need for guilt offerings because You speak on our behalf. As we kneel at Your feet and pour out our souls, bestow on us words that are life giving. Words of peace for our broken souls. Restore in us a faith and belief that it's You. You are enough for us. Amen

If God's the Team Captain,Then I'm Not Playing

Recently, during an otherwise casual conversation, a good friend of mine asked me a very difficult question. I say it's difficult because I personally know people who attend certain churches depending on how this question is answered, and people who choose not to attend church because of how it's answered. Her question was based on what she had been reading and learning in scripture, when God called a people to Himself through Abraham, a people He entered into covenant with and blessed. A chosen nation. Her question? Why would a loving God not choose everyone? Why did He choose through Abraham?

Great question. Hard question. My first tendency was to shrug my shoulders and say, I have no idea, and move the conversation elsewhere. But I was gently reminded of the verse that says I need to be ready to share the hope in which I profess. I do profess a belief in the LORD, the same Lord she was asking about, and she knew it. No running could escape the fact that I had just been hit hard and a response was desired. I immediately prayed that the Lord would shut my stupid mouth so that I wouldn't rattle off some nonsensical thing. I love my friend, so I wanted to give her the most solid answer I could give within my limited understanding of an all-powerful, all-knowing God.

Suddenly, it hit me clearly that her question wasn't one pertaining to theology, in fact, she had no idea of anything in that realm. Her question had everything to do with the nature of God. She wanted to know about Him. Isn't God supposed to be loving? In her mind, a God that would choose this man Abraham and not others isn't characteristic of a loving God. A loving God would choose everyone.

The best visual I came up with at that moment was the one of adoption. I have a brother because of the process of adoption. I know many couples who have flown to international destinations, in all cases more than once, to adopt children. We see celebrities with tons of money, and abundant resources adopt children from all over the world. I asked her what her feeling is of people like this? What is her overall perception of people who go into orphanages and choose a child, or more than one child to adopt? Does she consider them unloving because they don't choose all of the children? Sure, a valid argument could be that those people aren't God and are bound by laws, money, and other circumstances beyond their control. Had they more money or ability, they could adopt more. But the main question pointed back to the person doing the adopting. Did she consider them unloving because they chose a specific child to adopt and enter into familial relationship with?

The Bible teaches the truth that God is love, and love encompasses everything He chooses to do. From Genesis to Revelation, a beautiful picture is painted. The all-powerful, all-knowing God who walked with Adam and Eve in the garden, appeared to Moses and revealed His name, YHWH, meaning I AM. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob went before His people and behind His people protecting and continually forgiving them for their transgressions and disobedience to Him as Lord and father. He chose to send warnings through prophets, established the greatest kings that ever ruled over Israel, and out of His love came to walk among us, as one of us, in Jesus. He demonstrated His love to us by choosing to lay down his life, allowing himself to be beaten, slapped, mocked, denied, and nailed on a wooden cross, a most humiliating and criminal way to die.

Do we sometimes revert back to junior high or high school, when we're standing in line waiting to be picked by the team captain, you know, the popular, athletic kid, and feel our face become hot because we're the last to be picked? Do we say, if God is going to be team captain, then I'm not playing because He only picks the pretty, holy people, one of whom I never will be, or would want to be for that matter?

Did God choose the man named Abraham? Yes. Why did he choose him? I honestly don't know. I don't even want to think that I can fathom what God is doing. I do know that God's track record proves itself showing Him to choose from all ends of the spectrum, from the adulterers to the virgin, from the tax-collector to the poor in spirit, from those wrestling with demons, to the ones who are diseased. He chooses from those who are well-educated and religiously trained, to those everyone else rejects. He chooses women, kings, cupbearers, slaves, the list goes on. If we seriously consider what He has done, and continues to do, it's clear that He deserves all the credit in the world, because despite what biases we might carry, He is and always will be loving.

He Takes Notices

So the latest news is... Haiti needs help and the world is falling apart. The orphan rate is rising as I write this and our bank accounts can barely cover our bills much less take care of the world's needs. We are made to feel guilty and pitied because we don't know what it means to live simply. We own houses that have carpeting instead of mud floors, roofs made with tiled shingles instead of straw, and a pantry containing food. We've cut back, cut out, and trimmed, given LOTS of money and still we are chastised for owning too much. We're American; therefore, we are gluttonous, arrogant, and selfish. It's our responsibility to take care of people who are oppressed, down and out, uneducated, and stricken with poverty. We are faced with one of two extremes. We have abundance and others don't, so shame on us. Or, we need to embrace the American dream. It's our God given right to pursue those things. We're damned if we do, damned if we don't.

I watched the documentary, "Reporter" on television two days ago. The journalist traveled into the Congo documenting the effects the many years of civil war has had on their country. Passing through the small villages that had been pillaged, he faced starving people, bitter people, and confused people. With diamond mines and abundant resources at its fingertips, the country has the potential to be one of the richest in the world. But instead, it's one of the most poverty stricken. The reporter wrote that in the end, it was difficult to maintain hope the poverty would cease. Interestingly though, he didn't leave feeling guilty. He left with a desire for the people of the Congo to one day share in the blessing that is having food, strong shelter and peace.

Feeling overwhelmed and saddened by the heartbreaking images, I was reminded of the Israelites in Exodus, Chapter 1. The Israelites were oppressed under taskmasters who ruthlessly beat and controlled them. Verses 13 & 14, "They worked the Israelites ruthlessly and made their lives bitter with difficult labor in brick and mortar, and in all kinds of fieldwork. They ruthlessly imposed all this work on them." The fear that their newborn sons were going to be killed was so great that it caused one Levite woman to prepare a papyrus basket and place her son in the Nile, watching as he was rescued by Pharaoh's daughter. That baby boy was soon named Moses and was raised in Egypt, the land in which his own people were enslaved.

How interesting...

Moses grew up as an Egyptian and when he later fled to Midian, he was recognized as an Egyptian, not a Hebrew. He stayed in Midian and was given the comforts of a place to live, a wife and a son. He acquired all of this while his own people suffered harshly. Do we chastise Moses? Couldn't he have used his influence as the grandson of the Pharaoh to make some changes and stop the oppression? After all, he did observe it with his own eyes. Or maybe Pharaoh was just too big and powerful to fight against. It's not fair of us to judge Moses. That's God's business, not ours.

But just as Moses had observed the suffering with his own eyes, someone else had been observing too. The Israelites cried out because of their suffering, and "God saw the Israelites, and He took notice." vs 25 (emphasis mine)

He... took... notice. I am reminded with these three words that perhaps it's not always up to me to rescue everyone who is oppressed and poverty stricken. Perhaps it's not even America as a whole. Is it possible that it's up to God? That He is the one who sees and takes notice and decides when it's time for His people to be rescued? And is it possible that He'll choose to use those recognized as Haitians, Ugandans, Africans, Chinese, etc. to go back into their countries and bring their own out of the oppression? Who would know the Chinese better than those born and raised in China? Who would know the biases and prejudices between tribes and villages better than those who were raised in them?

Is it a far stretch to imagine that among all of those hurting and suffering in Haiti, the Congo, or any poverty stricken area there isn't one child of His groaning and crying out to God on behalf of his or her people? Can I be comforted knowing that God sees the suffering, and will choose when the time is right to liberate His people from their oppression? Praise be the answer is undoubtedly, Yes.

God is not fooled. He knows of the sufferings and pains of all who are oppressed by dictators, sickness, hard times, forced labor, beatings, hunger, poverty, and sexual abuse. He knows and He takes notice. It will never fall solely on us.

I don't know about you, but that encourages me.

Getting My Hands Dirty

I wonder how many of us have had our fill today. Our fill of food, fill of struggle, fill of pleasantry. We have all been filled with something. One of the things I've been filled with is the thought of poverty. Not poverty in the context of money, but poverty in the context of destitute living. As I was cleaning up my desk, I came across a notecard on which I had written:

"He who works his land will have abundant food, but the one

who chases fantasies will have his fill of poverty." (Proverbs 28:19)

As a person who has no problem allowing my imagination to take me to faraway places, this is such a vital verse for me. So often I catch myself sitting around chasing fantasies in my head. I began wondering if anyone else does the same. How many of us are foolishly praying for our territory to be expanded when it's comprised of nothing but barren soil? Do we really want more of nothing? Are we sitting around waiting for the "thing" that we believe will lead us to the happily-ever-after instead of shoving our hands in the dirt and working our land?

Do I desire to raise God-fearing, respectful children, but succumb to them when they throw their fits when I say no?
Do I desire to lose weight, but refuse to acknowledge my poor eating habits and refuse to exercise using busyness or lack of interest as an excuse?
Do I desire a great relationship with my husband, but refuse to admit where I might be failing, ready to point the finger at him?
Do I desire to cultivate strong friendships, but bail at the first sign of hardship, disagreement, or difficult circumstance?
Do I desire a deep relationship with the Lord, but refuse to spend time praying or studying the Bible?

I can think of so many more. The point is, all of the beginning scenarios are only fantasies if I'm not willing to get my hands dirty and start cultivating from the ground up. I've got to examine the soil around me, and most importantly, in me. What needs to be added? What needs to be cleared away? I'm learning that until I'm willing to sweat, and start digging, I'll never grow a crop much less an abundance of food. If all I do is chase the possibilities, the fantasies, I will end up living in a destitute state, with my fill of poverty.
So does this mean that I'm going to stop dreaming and envisioning wonderful possibilities? Not hardly. But I am praying that the fantasies won't be purely fiction once I begin to work this ground around me. And I pray that out of the abundance of food, the Lord might allow me to share it with others who might be needing a little bit of sustenance while they work their own land.