Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also                                     to the interests of others.                                                                                                                                                                                   Philippians 2:4

Recently Marty and I finally saw “Yesterday,” the movie about a singer/songwriter who is one of the only three people left on the planet who remembers the Beatles. Once he realizes that not even Google has any recollection of the musical geniuses, he began to pass off their songs as his own.

In one scene, he is sitting at the piano, wanting to share “his new song,” “Let It Be,” with his parents. He starts to play it but is interrupted when they tell him to start again, they weren’t quite paying attention. Then there are other interruptions – a cell phone call, someone dropping by, conversations while he’s trying to sing, until finally he “loses it.” The others in the room look stunned. What is he so upset about?

While Marty may have found that scene amusing, and the songwriter a little neurotic, anyone who has written music, poetry, or stories can relate to the situation and will want to yell at the rude people along with the young man. But what we (writers) have to realize is that the distracted people have no clue why their undivided attention is so important to us at that moment.

Songwriters, poets, storytellers – anyone who puts their thoughts and feelings into words – do it because we are passionate about something. We have a message that we long to share with the world, and if the world (or at least our world) shows little or no interest, it wounds us. When those people are more interested in other things at the moment, as hard as we try not to take it personally, their inattention causes us to question our creation.

If you know a writer, and that writer one days tells you, “I wrote a new song [or poem or story] today,” the proper response is not to say “How nice” and change the subject to the weather or your latest project. I can’t explain why writers are such impatient people, but the moment we finish “giving birth,” we want to show our “baby” to someone, now.

If the writer asks, “Would you like to hear it? Or would, you like to read it?” the right response is not “Maybe later,” or “Not right now,” or “… How long is it?” Granted, you may be busy, but if the writer is someone you care about at all, try to take the time. Who knows? You may have the privilege of being the first to hear or read a masterpiece. (If the person is a random stranger on the street, feel free to say, “Sorry, I’ve got to be somewhere. Good luck.”)

I’ve had the experience of trying to share my latest, or even someone else’s that I’ve just learned and think is awesome, and heard the mumble of conversations that caused me to cut the performance short.

Then there was Karen.

Karen and I were acquaintances whose children played together. I’m not sure where our kids were that day, or why she was in my home, but I do remember having just finished writing what I considered (and still consider) one of my best songs. I had been inspired while on a plane, staring down at the city and realizing that God knew every one of the people who lived there. I had been gripped with an emotion that was unexpected – His deep longing for each of them to know His love. The last line had eluded me until that day.  It had come as I was reading Isaiah, and I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was aching to share the song with someone, and Karen showed up …

We were standing by the piano, and I asked if she’d like to hear my latest song, and (Bless her!) she said “Yes!” with enthusiasm. I sat down to play it, expecting at any moment to be interrupted by our children, or something she just thought of to tell me or ask me, or any number of other things. But she sat in an armchair and listened to the whole song without saying a word.

When the song was over, there was a brief silence. Then quietly Karen stood up, walked over, and hugged me.

“That’s beautiful,” she whispered. She had tears in her eyes, and I knew she had caught the meaning of the song and that she shared my passion for what it was saying.

So … would you like to read the lyrics? (If you have more important things to do, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. )

 

I Wonder Who Will                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Staring out the window at the city far below,                                                                                 I see endless rows of buildings full of people I don’t know.                                             Though their malls and mills and mansions look like pebbles on the sand,                            My Father knows each one of them; He holds them in His hand.

But I wonder, which ones know Him and which ones never will?                                              Which homes ring with laugher, and which ones are cold and still?                                        And I wonder, who is hungry, and which ones have their fill?                                                  If we don’t share the Bread of Life with them, I wonder, then who will?              

The Lord knows me inside and out, every hair that’s on my head,                                           And He knows the things I’ve done and felt, every word I’ve ever said.                                    And He knows the days ordained for me that He wrote down long before,                           And it amazes me that in that way, He knows millions more!

But I wonder who is crying, and which ones need a friend                                                         And where they’ll spend eternity when their lives are at an end …                                           And I wonder, in a world of darkness, who will help them see?                                                  Lord ….                                                                                                                                                    Here am I …                                                                                                                                                         Send me.

(Ann Aschauer, copyright 1989)

 

Prayer: Lord Jesus, who stepped down from heaven into our world, help us to care for others the way You care for us. Help us never to be so wrapped up in our own lives that we miss an opportunity to reach out to others, even when reaching out involves just a listening ear, in Your name. Amen

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”                                                                                                                                                                             II Corinthians 12:8

The Michigan church where we attend half the year is not a large one. When the pastor had left and the search was on for a new one and the drummer was scheduled to be the guest preacher and the worship leader was taking a well-deserved vacation with his family and the bass player had a camping trip planned for the same weekend, the worship team was shorthanded, to say the least.

Although I usually play a simple “layer” of chords on the keys for worship, I can play the guitar, too, although not as well as I used to. It’s painful to press down hard on the strings with arthritic fingers.  Still, when it was strongly hinted that I should lead worship that Sunday with my guitar, I agreed to do it. The perk: I got to pick the music.

I am one who can enjoy and appreciate practically every genre of music, though some more than others. Our worship leader is a young man who usually opts for contemporary style worship, which is fine with me. But the older people who attend that church would love to hear the classic old hymns every once in a while.  For this reason when I’m asked to sing an occasional offertory I frequently sing an “oldie,” or even put together a medley of old hymns. The older folks love it.

So, when I was given the reins for that Sunday’s worship, I toyed with the idea of doing classics like “How Great Thou Art,” “It Is Well With My Soul,” and “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” especially since those songs don’t require drums.

The worship leader must have caught wind of my plan. He called me on the eve of his family trip to urge me to play contemporary worship songs, lest we have a visitor drop in and think we always sang hymns. I refrained from mentioning that some visitors might actually like hymns and obediently worked on some of the more “hip” songs. That was when the problems started.

After practicing one or two songs my fingers were in so much pain that I didn’t think I’d last a whole service. Meanwhile, it looked as if I would have very few people, if any, on the platform with me. The couple from Nigeria (The husband played piano, the wife sang.) were moving that weekend and would be doing well to get to church at all. The drummer suggested I call Rachel, a local teacher who attended the church and occasionally sang.

When I called her Wednesday, she said she’d love to help out – if she could get over a sore throat.

“Well, Lord, it seems Rachel and I both need healing. If You want me to play the guitar, please heal my fingers, and if You want Rachel to sing, please heal her throat.”

Saturday afternoon my fingers were still aching, and giving no sign of letting up. I didn’t know what to do.

… unless …

I saw the piano sitting invitingly in the corner of the room. With silent apologies to our absent worship leader, I sat down and played “It Is Well With My Soul.” The arpeggios flowed effortlessly and painlessly, as if it hadn’t been years since I’d played them. Suddenly I was at peace about playing the next day. I texted Rachel, along with the drummer, who had said he would sing with me, and told them I – actually, my fingers – had made an executive decision, and we were going for the hymns. As a compromise, I said I would play an updated version of “Amazing Grace” with a new chorus, “My Chains Are Gone” before Communion with the guitar, but that was all the guitar playing my hands could take.

Sunday morning Rachel showed up with a testimony: She had been in the car on her way to school Friday, praying, “Lord, I’ve done everything I can think of for my throat, and none of it has worked. I want to sing Sunday, but I need You to heal me.” By the time she’d arrived at school, her throat had been healed! I was thrilled for her, but had to confess that my fingers had not been healed, hence the list of songs that weren’t “cool.” (Frankly, we aren’t cool, have never been cool, and never will be cool, but I kept that thought to myself.) We began to practice the classic hymns. I was at the piano, and Rachel and the drummer at the other mics, as we sang in three-part harmony. I thought it sounded fine, even though the younger people might roll their eyes at it.

… or would they?

“OH. MY. GOSH!” cried the thirteen-year-old in the sound booth. “You guys sound AWESOME!!!” We smiled, then went on to sing the remaining songs.

“OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!!!” squealed our one-girl fan club. “I can’t BELIEVE how AWESOME you sound! You sound like ANGELS!!!” She was literally jumping up and down. I was astonished how much this teenager liked these old songs. I would have expected her to want to hear newer ones.

But then it occurred to me that to her these were new. It also encouraged me to think that maybe the oldsters might not be the only ones to enjoy the worship that morning.

And so, the worship went as planned, not by us, but by the One who perfectly orchestrated it. Interestingly, He did it by healing one of us but not the other. At least not yet. I fully expect that when I get my new body, the fingers will be working perfectly, and I’ll be able to play any music I want, on any instrument I want. Meanwhile, I’m willing to have God’s providence guide me to whatever He wants me to do today.

Prayer: Lord, you are God, and we aren’t. Help us to remember that and to give You full reign in our lives. And to praise You, whatever the outcome, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.   John 1:5

It’s been at least five years since my friends and I last performed our Halloween drama, but it still seems strange to be in mid-October and not to be consumed with rehearsals for “Satan’s Worst Nightmare.” (The title refers to the Resurrection of Jesus, not to us!) My book of the same name was to be released this past summer, but I’ve hit some snags. I shouldn’t be surprised. With all the resistance we encountered presenting Christ’s Resurrection on Halloween, why would I not expect even more push-back when writing a book that I’m hoping will inspire other people to do similar things where they are?

Still, nothing says I can’t share bits and pieces of the manuscript with my readers in the meantime, so here’s this week’s preview, from the chapter entitled, simply, “Weather”:

When the topic of weather is referred to, it is often with the connotation of its being the epitome of shallow and trivial conversation, but there are exceptions. These exceptions include when a hurricane is heading for your home, when a drought threatens to destroy your crops, and when you are planning an outdoor production in Michigan at the end of October with no “Plan B.”

It is a well-established fact that man does not control the weather conditions on any given day; the closest we can come is prayer – lots and lots of fervent, repeated, consistent prayer. In the case of the Halloween outreach, the prayers for the weather on October 31 usually began in August or earlier. They continued in growing numbers in October as we would gather before each rehearsal to come before God in unison.
In the fifteen years we had the outreach, we have never once been rained out.
This does not mean that performing outdoors was always comfortable, not by a long shot. It does mean that there was always an audience. Some years the fire pit on the sidewalk probably caused some spectators to linger a little longer than they otherwise would have. God knows, and He controls the elements.

Every year Kelly would pray for a “warm, balmy night” for the outreach, and I would always agree, thinking in the back of my mind, “It couldn’t hurt to ask…” One year we actually did have temperatures in the 60’s, and it was delightful. But overall, the weather was usually typical of southeastern Michigan at the end of October, it just never rained on us during our production.

There were plenty of times the skies and the weather man threatened rain all evening, and as each performance ended and the actors looked to me for instructions, I would tell them, “Hey, it’s not raining yet, let’s go for one more,” and we would start again, always squeezing in as many of the 20-minute performances as we could before the 10:00 closing.

Usually the night of the outreach was cold enough that the actors would run inside to warm up between performances. Dollar store gloves (black for the demons, white for the angels) were a staple, and some years I would give up trying to keep the kids from drinking hot cider in costume and just pray they wouldn’t spill it on their white robes before the evening was over.

Probably about half the outreaches we did had heavy clouds hovering over us until the very end of the evening, after which the rain would start. More than a few times I would be driving home Halloween night in a downpour, barely able to see the road in front of me. But it was always with a grateful heart – God had made the rain wait for us again.

In the Eye of the Storm

One year I drove to the Tuckers’ house in a downpour, praying, OK, Lord, this has never happened before, but You are in charge. Just let us know what You want us to do now…
But when I got to the Tuckers’ it wasn’t raining there. We did have people coming in from all directions, asking, “Are we still doing it? It’s raining like crazy in Marine City.”

“It’s pouring in Richmond.”

“It’s raining cats and dogs in Marysville.”

“Wow,” I thought out loud. “Wouldn’t it be cool if it rained everywhere except St. Clair?”

“Annie,” said one of the moms, who lived in St, Clair, “it’s raining in parts of St. Clair, it’s just not raining here.” (Understand that St. Clair is not all that big.)

We gathered for a few minutes of intense prayer before going on with a whole evening of performances, while the skies above us held off – again.

This Is Cool, but …

I remember one year it was windy and bitter cold. During the first performance, as Satan stood raising his fist and gloating over the death of Jesus, the wind whipped his cape, while a maelstrom of giant snowflakes whirled around him. Some of us stood taking in the drama of it, our mouths agape. As a director, I was slightly torn.

OK, I thought, this looks awesome, but if it keeps up, these kids will all have pneumonia by the end of the evening…

Kelly wasn’t torn at all. From behind me I could hear her authoritative voice bellow, “In the Name of Jesus I command this snow to stop – NOW!”

Seconds later, no more snow. I was mildly disappointed, but mostly relieved.

Each year it was a matter of prayer whether we would have the outreach again. For fifteen years the answer was “yes.”

The year we decided to forego the outreach there was a hurricane that affected practically the whole east half of the country, and Halloween night the weather was so unpleasant that I could count on one hand the number of trick-or-treaters that showed up at the Tucker household. I was sitting on their porch handing out candy and tracts, and a couple of them asked how come we weren’t having the show this year. I laughed and pointed to the weather they were crazy enough to be out in, and silently thanked the Lord that we had not worked for six weeks on a production that was clearly not to be that year.

Prayer: Lord, You have ordained seasons, and I thank You for the season when I had the privilege of retelling the story of Your Resurrection on what some would consider the darkest night of the year. Indeed, You always shine, even through the deepest darkness. Shine through me, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Do not love the world or anything in the world.        I John 2: 15a

It was a typical morning. Marty was sipping his coffee and checking his phone for the day’s news stories. I was sipping my coffee and getting ready to take the dog on his morning walk. This was the time I usually prayed, as the early morning solitude was perfect for talking to God, my phone got left at home, and the dog was happy, thinking I was talking to him. It was also typical that a multitude of things were vying for my attention. Of course, since I was still sipping my coffee, I thought I may as well take a quick look at my emails – checking for prayer requests.

Off at the side of the screen an image flashed of an absolutely gorgeous dress. If not the most beautiful dress I had ever seen, it was definitely in the top five. Royal blue (my color!), neither tight nor baggy, just flowing gracefully. The model even had my hair, so if I blurred my eyes or covered her face with my thumb, I could see myself wearing that amazing garment to the next wedding. Or ball. Or coronation…

Desire took hold. I showed the picture to Marty, whose opinions on women’s fashion is usually somewhere between indifferent and comatose, and even he did a double take and said, “You should get it!” without even knowing the price. As it was, the dress was on sale, and the price ridiculously low. I would gladly have paid three times that much. I knew the dog (not to mention the Lord) was waiting, but I thought, This will just take a minute, and clicked onto the site.

Of course, the “just a minute” takes a little longer if you have to set up an account, but I typed in my name and email address and created a password at record speed. I then went on to place the order but was told that the password I had just entered and confirmed was “invalid.” After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I clicked on “Forgot my password” to have them send me what they thought it was, only to be told that my email address was also invalid. By this time my mood was, shall we say, not exactly prayerful?

Then the Holy Spirit, or maybe it was just the voice of common sense, told me that my prayer time had again been sabotaged, and I was getting emotionally upset over not possessing a dress that an hour ago I had no idea existed!

My prayer time that day included some meditation on the sin of vanity.

Prayer: Lord, we are so easily distracted by the world and its “treasures.” Help us to set our minds on You and to have the divine perspective to know that true treasures come from You. In the name of Jesus, the greatest Treasure of all. Amen.

You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, “Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.” But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, “Raca,” is answerable to the Sandhedrin. But anyone who says, “You fool!” will be in danger of the fire of hell.                                                                                                                                                                                Matthew 5: 21-22

I committed murder this morning.

I called a man a “fool.” In my defense, he had told his wife “the marriage is over” and is living with his new girlfriend. If that isn’t the biblical definition of a fool, what is?

Still, I took it upon myself to do God’s job. I judged someone who is a sinner – just like me. And I had to repent, pray, and receive God’s forgiveness.

Some people have opined that it’s easier to be a Christian than an Orthodox Jew, since the Old Testament has hundreds of laws to follow and instructions on how to atone for oneself when having broken one of those laws. The New Testament, recognizing that the Old Testament law was impossible for anyone to follow, offers us grace. We no longer have to offer endless sacrifices to atone for all of our blunders; Jesus gave His life so that we could be forgiven on the basis of His sacrifice.

But there is a way in which Jesus made it harder on those who would like to think themselves holier than everyone else. These “religious” people knew the Law and kept it – outwardly. The Law said, “Thou shalt not murder,” and as far as they knew, they hadn’t. The Law said, “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” and as far as they knew, they had kept themselves sexually clean.

But then Jesus came along and raised the bar. In His Sermon on the Mount, He redefines “sin” in terms of not just behavior but the heart. Jesus said that someone who is angry with his brother is murdering him in his heart (Matthew 5:21-22), and that “anyone who looks lustfully at a woman has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” (Matthew 5:28)

Suddenly, everyone is guilty. Jesus did not present this perspective of the Law to make us more righteous,  but to show us that none of us can obey God’s Law. He wanted us to know that we need a Savior. Those who say Jesus was a great teacher who taught us how to live, and at the same time do not believe that He is the Savior of the world, are missing the whole point of Jesus’ life and teachings.

Please don’t misunderstand, having a relationship with Jesus will help us live better lives. If we truly know Him, we will love Him, and if we love Him, we won’t say, “Man, I’m glad my sins are paid for,” and go out and do whatever the devil, our sin nature, and the world tell us to do. If we love Him – if we’re in love with Him – we would rather die than hurt Him. But living a good life is not what saves us.

I have known Jesus for more than half a century, and I can’t begin to tell you how much He has blessed my life. (This blog is an attempt at a start, anyway.) And I still sin. The difference is, I don’t believe I sin nearly as much as I would without knowing Him, and when I do sin, He lets me know. Like the other time I was aware of being a murderer.

I had the radio on while I was fixing dinner, and a story came on about some people who had swindled a trusting elderly lady and had taken her entire life’s savings. My instant reaction was to became judge and jury, declaring out loud, “Those people oughta be shot!”

Immediately, I recognized that in that split second I had become a murderer in my heart. I’m hopeless, I thought. But I also knew immediately that I would be hopeless without Jesus, but I wasn’t without Jesus. I stopped what I was doing, repented, and thanked Him for His grace.

Psalm 103:8-14 is a passage that has been my lifeline whenever I would realize how much I fall short of God’s standards.

The LORD is compassionate and gracious,                                                                                                 slow to anger, abounding in love.                                                              He will not always accuse,                                                                                                                               nor will he harbor his anger forever;                                                             he does not treat us as our sins deserve                                                                                                        or reward us according to our iniquities.                                 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,                                                                                          so great is his love for those who fear him;                                                      as far as the east is from the west,                                                                                                              so far has he removed our transgressions from us.           As a father has compassion on his children,                                                                                                so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;                  For he knows how we are formed,                                                                                                                  he remembers that we are dust.

It is such a comfort to me to know that God understands that we are incapable of living the righteous life on our own, and He is here to help us. Jesus died on the cross to pay for our sins. All of them. For anyone who will repent, this forgiveness is His free gift.

Even for a murderer like me.

Prayer: LORD, alone we are helpless to do good. Thank You for spelling it out so clearly that keeping Your Law by sheer willpower is impossible, and that You understand. Thank You for providing a way for us to be cleansed of our sins committed through word, action, thought, attitude, and even our myriad sins of omission. Lead us in a life that reflects Your grace, and never let us make the mistake of thinking that we do good things on our own. It’s all YOU. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

 

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.”    Romans 8:28

I had been on the road for about two hours, making good time and thinking I would be back in Louisville before 8:00. But in a moment my plans were changed, and I found myself on a new “assignment,” “adventure,” whatever you want to call the unexpected event.

I had made it from the Michigan town where I had attended an author event, as far as Ohio, when traffic on the highway in a major city suddenly became heavy. Several vehicles slowed to a complete stop, and I could see the car in front of me fishtailing to keep from hitting the car in front of him. I slammed on the brakes, barely avoiding a collision, but a split second later I felt the unmistakable sensation of being slammed into from behind. My first thought was profound:

Oops.

After pulling off to the side of the street, I looked around amid stuff that had been thrown about – my purse and its contents (I really need to get into the habit of zipping that thing up.) the box from the restaurant that had held (loosely) leftover salad from lunch, and a little of everything else, except my phone, which was in an unknown location, having flown off its holder.

My next thought was OK, I’m alive. Thank You, Lord. My thoughts went back to the meeting my husband and I had had with a lawyer a few days prior to update our wills, and the fact that I had started a letter to the worship pastor at our church, telling him what kind of service I wanted in the event I should be “called home.” As I sat amid the mess in the front seat of my car, I told myself, I really need to get that letter written!

Pulling my mind back into the present moment, I got out and approached the vehicle behind me, where a teenaged girl looked shaken, and asked if she was OK. She said yes, although “That was scary.” I agreed. The front of her little car looked like a smashed tin can with dangling headlights.

My car, on the other hand,  didn’t show much damage, and what upset me more than the crash was having no clue where my cell phone was. Even when I had the young lady call my number, I couldn’t hear it ring. I wondered if it had been flung off the side of the road and lost forever – my address book, my camera, my photo album, well, you get it. I was seriously bothered.

After about fifteen minutes, at last I found my phone, beneath the carpet under the passenger seat, wedged into a small space in the floor. (Go figure.) I called the police to report the accident, and when they asked if anyone was hurt, I honestly told them “No.” (It seemed like a good idea at the time.) Consequently, it was nearly two hours before the police showed up. The girl’s father arrived more promptly, a little shaken himself, partly because the car his daughter had been driving was totaled, and mostly relieved that she was all right.

While we were waiting for the police to arrive, much of the time the young lady and I sat on the side of the hill, talking and getting to know each other. To be more exact, we were learning each other’s life stories. I’ve always loved teenagers, and she was the kind of kid I could like right away – open and transparent, telling me some very personal things about her life, which I won’t share here. Not surprisingly, like many young people, she had struggled with anxiety, and I was sure this present situation wasn’t helping. I noticed she seemed anxious whenever her attention went back to her car, and I felt it best to keep her talking about other things. Once her dad was on the scene and we had to focus on the crash, he and I ended up reminiscing about our first accidents. (At the age of sixteen I had done to my Mustang pretty much what she’d done to her car.) I think that might have helped her feel a little better; nobody’s perfect.

Of course, at one point in our conversation about school and such, I asked her if she liked to read, and when she said “yes,” I gave her one of my books written for teens and young adults, which just happened to be in my car after the author event. 😉 Since she had a job at a well known candle company, she in turn gave me something to make my car smell good.

When the ordeal was over and I left, we hugged and wished each other the best. I remember thinking as I drove away in my car, which now had the scent of pumpkin spice to drown out the smell of spilled salad – We are SUCH GIRLS! (Somehow I can’t see guys behaving the way we did.)

Romans 8:28 says, basically, that there’s a reason for everything if we love the Lord – and if we are called by Him. In other words, even before we know Him, things are working together to bring us to Him. Although she and I had prayed together, thanking God for our lives, I don’t know exactly what that teen’s relationship with God is. I do know that if she reads the book I gave her, she’ll know how to know Him, if she doesn’t already. And I hope that rather than increasing her anxiety, that crash just might be something she’ll look back on and see as part of God’s plan in her life. She is still alive, so He certainly has something planned for her.

To put it another way, I don’t believe that accident was entirely an accident.

Prayer: Dear Lord, thank You for sparing my life and the life of that young girl. Help me never to take for granted that every day of life is a bonus – another day to serve You. Help us both to fulfill Your purpose for us, in Jesus’ name. Amen 

 

There is a time for everything,                                                                                               and a season for every activity under heaven.                                                                                                                                                    Ecclesiastes 3:1

Yesterday we looked at the description of the “wife of noble character” described in a passage in Proverbs 31, and how it has been a cause of guilt on the part of many of today’s women.

I made the statement that (in my opinion) the “Proverbs 31 Woman” doesn’t exist, at least the kind of woman we think of when reading this passage – the woman who can burn the candle at both ends and in the middle (and probably makes her own candles), and raises perfect children, runs a lucrative business, gives to the poor, etc. And I pointed out that nowhere in the passage does it say that the woman does all in one day, but that all of us go through different seasons of life. Let’s take a look at some of those seasons.

Are you single? Then don’t feel guilty about not yet being a “wife of noble character.” Focus on your relationship with God – becoming a woman of noble character, so that if  marriage is part of God’s plan for you, you’ll be more prepared to step into that role.

Are you newly married? You might focus on your home – refinishing furniture, painting, upholstering, and interior designing. Some women are very gifted at creating a beautiful environment.

If you’re not an HGTV woman, that’s okay, too! This may be a season for a job, putting your husband through school, or getting through school yourself. It is definitely time to focus on your new marriage and establishing a firm foundation of Christ for your home. (The husband may be the “head” of the home, but in my opinion the wife is the heart.)

Are you “with child”? Then this is NOT the season to be up before dawn, working hard and vigorously through the day, taking care of everyone else, and working on into the night! If you’re tired, get your feet up, take a nap, and don’t feel guilty about it! In taking care of yourself, you’re taking care of your child, and that’s a good thing.

If you have small children, you and your husband might pray about whether you should be a stay-at-home mom for a season. If that’s God’s plan, one income will be enough for the family. And don’t fall into the trap of thinking “enough” means a new car every year, going out to eat every other night, and an annual vacation to an exotic place. You are raising the next generation of citizens for the kingdom of God, and nothing is more important than that.

When the kids start school, you may be thinking about going back to a job, or even a career. If your family’s finances are sufficient, you may be led to volunteer for a cause you are passionate about. If the cause is your children’s school, so much the  better! As a teacher, I taught children whose parents volunteered at the school, and I had students whose parents didn’t even show up for parent-teacher conferences. From my perspective, parental involvement makes a huge difference in how well the child does. If your child struggles, you may be in a season of working part-time or not at all, to be sure you’re available to help with homework and be in communication with the teachers. You may even be led to home school. (I am in awe of such parents.)

Whatever you choose, never underestimate how much physical, mental, and emotional energy it takes to be a good parent. Don’t be pressured into doing what the world defines as “important,” while your child suffers setbacks that could last for years.

Pay does not define the importance of a job!

When the children are grown and out of the house, it might be time to pursue other interests and passions, be more involved with your church, local ministries, and outreaches. You could even start your own business, do freelance work, or, if you can’t imagine your life without children, continue to volunteer in schools, Sunday school, or VBS.

But, [Write this down.] you can’t do it all. The world will tell you that you can, but even if you do manage to “do it all,” chances are “it all” will be done poorly. Better to do one or two things with excellence than doing everyone’s bidding and not satisfying anyone, least of all God.

Thirdly, if you find that you have fallen short, even within reasonable guidelines, NEWSFLASH! We’ve all fallen short! (Romans 3:23) There’s a remedy for that, and it’s called GRACE. Never hesitate to come to God for His grace when you need it. Proverbs 31 describes a worthy goal for wives, not a typical achievement, even for the most godly and capable of women.

A note to single moms: If you find that a full-time job is necessary to provide for your children, don’t take on the guilt of thinking that your children are suffering irreparable damage.  If you love them, they know it. Pray for them. Pray with them. When you’re with them, give them your best, and trust God to fill in the gaps. Let them know that He is their Daddy.

Ladies, only God should tell you what to do with your life at any given season, confirming His leading through your husband, if you’re married. “Resist the devil,” (James 4:7) but resist the world, too. (Romans 12:2) That includes anything the devil and the world try to use against you, including Scripture. If Satan quoted Scripture out of context to tempt Jesus (Matthew 4:6), it’s not inconceivable that he would use Proverbs 31 out of context to bring condemnation and depression to women who earnestly want to please the Lord. Don’t fall into the trap of comparison. With your unique blend of passions, abilities, experiences, and opportunities, you are one of a kind.

Prayer: LORD, thank You for grace. We know that without You we can do nothing, but with Your help, we can do more than we ever imagined. Keep us from setting impossible goals for ourselves based on the world’s perspective. Give us Your perspective – divine perspective, in Jesus’ name. Amen

 

A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Proverbs 31:10

Probably the most familiar passage of Proverbs is found in chapter 31, and it is the passage that causes the strongest reaction from women. And that reaction is often…

GUILT.

King Lemuel is describing “a wife of noble character,” one that we women would do well to emulate.

This woman brings her husband nothing but good all of his life, and he has full confidence in her. (vs 11-12) She is discerning when choosing her materials and has a splendid attitude toward her work. (vs 13) She gets up before sunup (vs 14) and fixes breakfast for her family.  She also provides “portions” for her employees. (vs 15) Whether the latter means food or daily assignments, either way she is responsible and organized.

She is a shrewd businesswoman, owner of a vineyard. (vs 16) She is energetic, setting about her work with vigor, and she is physically strong. (vs 17) She is a lucrative saleswoman who works late into the night. (vs 18) She apparently spins her own wool and makes clothing for her household (vs 19, 21), as well as coverings for her bed – and by the way, she is always well dressed and looking good! (vs 22)

She is kind and compassionate to the poor and needy. (vs 20) She is a supplier of linen garments, which of course, she makes herself. (vs 24) She “is clothed with strength and dignity” and looks to the future with confidence. (vs 25) (If I could do all that, I’d be pretty confident, too.) She is wise, and oh yes, she is a teacher. (vs 26) She always knows what’s going on in her house, and she’s never caught loafing. (vs. 27)

And what does she get in return? “Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.” (vs 28)

If you’re like me, you get tired just thinking about all the things this woman does, and seeing how much you do not measure up, possibly on the verge of depression. . This woman makes Martha Stewart look like a slug. And me? Well, I have a hard time ordering my own life, much less taking care of everyone else, coming out ahead, and looking like a supermodel when all is said and done.

So, what are we to do with this passage? There’s obviously a reason for it, as it’s in the Bible, and in Proverbs, no less – the book of wisdom.

Okay, ladies, take a deep breath. According to Titus 2, older women are to teach the younger ones, and as I have a few years under my belt, I would like to offer some words of comfort and advice to the younger women, especially those of you who are up to your eyeballs in laundry, children, bills, and women’s magazines telling tell you what you ought to be:

First,  God loves you, where and who you are. He made you for a special purpose, and He will not ask you to do anything without giving you the resources to accomplish it. And he does not want you depressed!

Secondly, (and I hope I don’t get struck by lightning for saying this) the “Proverbs 31 woman” does not exist. At least, not the way we have been taught to see her. Yes, she does a gazillion things, but nowhere does it say that she does them all every day. Each of us has seasons in life, and I think the idea of seasons applies to women even more than to men.

Tomorrow we’ll look at some of these seasons.

Prayer:  Thank You, Jesus, for bearing the burden our guilt, paying the penalty for our sins on the cross. Thank You that through faith in You we can be forgiven and pursue a godly life, free from the weight of guilt. Lord, thank You for Your patience with us, for giving us a lifetime to learn the wisdom that You have for us. Make us teachable, and keep our minds from being clouded by the demands and misplaced priorities of the world. In Your name, amen.

The Pharisee stood up and prayed to himself: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men – robbers, evildoer, adulterers – or even like this tax collector.”                                                                                                                                   Luke 18:11

I want to share with my readers this timely and excellent piece by One day at a time… a.k.a. floatinggold, a.k.a. “Goldie.” But first, a postscript regarding what I shared last week (“Well, That Was Worth a Sinus Infection.”):

I met the lady who is fighting bone cancer yesterday to get her the copies of BARRIERS that she requested. She said (again) that she loves the book, although she hasn’t read very far – family members keep passing it around, so she got five more copies so they could each have their own and she could get hers back. She also got one to give to her local library. The money she insisted on paying me was roughly the same as what it had just cost me to ship eight copies to India as a gift. (A pastor friend is using BARRIERS as a kind of “textbook” in training other pastors. -> !) When I told her she had helped me ship eight books to the other side of the world, she was delighted at the thought of being part of God’s plan for India. (Isn’t it fun to be on His team?)

Now, on a completely different subject,

NROP* Behind Hated Professions, There Are Hated People

Why is it that we fear law enforcement even if we have done nothing wrong?

Have you ever arrived at the border with a twinge of fear? Hopefully, you were not a wanted criminal at the time of the crossing (And you are not one now, right?!), you did not try to smuggle something through, and you did have a visa (or other access-granting documentation). If you travel internationally on a regular basis, such crossing might have become nothing more than a nuisance (Who likes to stand in line?), but for those who do not, it might be a moment of raised blood pressure and increased perspiration. In case of border patrol, you know that they have the power to mess your day up if anything is not ideal. You might not love border patrol because they are an obstacle through which you have to get through to get to your destination. That is understandable. Chances are that you might be short with them because of that.

However, they are just doing their jobs, protecting the country for which they work. How do you feel when someone does not treat you courteously at your place of work?
Some people go a step farther and actually claim to hate border patrol agents. The situation is more dire than ever here in the US, during the current political climate. Professions that were respected in the past are now being spat at.

Blue lives matter.

The beginnings of the Border Patrol (BP) date back to early 1920s. Back then, these agents came from either Texas Rangers or local sheriff’s offices and mainly dealt with whiskey contraband. What is interesting is that these agents often used their own horses and/ or saddles for work. Even though there are still BP agents riding horseback, a lot of changes have been made to the whole profession since the Prohibition era.

Border Patrol is a part of the largest federal law enforcement agency – Customs and Border protection, which guards 7,000 miles of US’s Northern and Southern border, 95,000 miles of shoreline and over 300 ports of entry. Being a Border Patrol agent is a dream job for some because an entry level job for someone with a high school diploma guarantees $55,000/ annually in wages. Within four years, it is more than possible for that number to jump to $100,000.

Before, the job involved a lot of hiding, laying low and waiting until a smuggler came along. The agents felt a rush of adrenaline when they chased someone, acting like the border military. Unfortunately, the job has become less than desirable in recent years, as many agents receive death threats and are called “kid killers”. Moreover, the agents only eat at places that they know are safe and friendly. Otherwise, they run the risk of having people spit (and more) into their food.

The suicide rate among these workers is on the rise. Many BP agents struggle with the public’s opinion of them. Moreover, they are currently overworked, understaffed and strained. Their job is not all about catching the bad buys . Nowadays, it involves making sandwiches for the migrants. Some even use their own money to buy toys for the detained kids. That, combined with insane heat, the agency is having a tough time recruiting members.

The job follows BP agents home. After long hours spent on serving baby formula and trying to avoid various diseases spreading like wildfire at the detention centers, they go home where they hear the terrible things people say to their families. How would you feel if your kid came home from school and told you that their classmates think you are a terrible human being? Often times, families turn on you. Agents report receiving nasty emails from their family members. It is not unusual for families to be torn apart because of the perception of the Border Patrol agents being monsters.

All of this bothers me, because I can put myself in the shoes of those workers. Have you ever thought: “This is not in my job description?” I have. If you were hired to be a cop and now you perform duties of a babysitter, would you not be a little upset? And on top of that, you have to put up with abuse from those that you care for, as well as those for whom you are working. Migrants throw stones at BP agents. American smear them with metaphorical mud.

In the media, we often hear about depression and how we should be kind to one another. That is a great campaign, of which I approve. However, why is it something only meant for some, and not all, people? Why are some people more worthy of our kindness than others? Why do we overlook the person behind the profession? They say it is unfair to generalize, but is it fair to label someone a monster just for doing their legitimate job? Why are doctors considered good and attorneys are considered bad people? They are both professions that are essential to our today’s world. Do not hate the player, hate the game instead.

Hate is a strong emotion that has the power to destroy not only the person you hate but also yourself. Do not be quick to hate; especially someone you do not even know.

Great advice. Thanks, Goldie.

* (News-Related Opinion Piece)

Prayer: Lord, Your knowledge and wisdom are infinite. You number the hairs on our heads, You know all of our shortcomings, and You love us anyway. How could we ever imagine that we have the right to hate anyone, especially people we don’t know? Forgive us. Give us the humility that comes from wisdom, and fill us with Your love, in Jesus’ name. Amen.