GPS

First let me say...I've never been to New Delhi. And this post would be more exciting if it took place in New Delhi instead of Fort Smith, Arkansas. Lately, I've been neatly contained within the state borders, though, so I'm getting my GPS directions on Scenic Hwy 7 instead of the Haipur Bypass. It's OK, I may make it to New Delhi someday and I'd like to know that the Google maps iPhone application works there too. For now, I just needed a photo.

All that to say this, when you get directions here, you get step by step turns. And if you're traveling in Fort Smith, you can watch the little dot that represents your car moving down the road. And if you miss a turn, you can watch your dot move back to the right place. I know this from experience.

I thought about this last night as I read the first day of the study Experiencing God. The illustration there is a map versus someone in the car giving you directions as you need them. God doesn't give us maps. He wants to be with us every step of the way giving us the right direction as we need it. Any sooner and we'd forget or get confused or turn too soon. Any later and the going just gets more and more difficult and confusing. And the only way we can get that direction is to have him with us, mile by mile. Before this handy dandy upgrade to iPhone, when I traveled, I mapped out complete routes using Mapquest. I wanted turn-by-turn directions for each stop on the path. I got them. But I didn't get anything else. No flexibility, no unexpected diversions, no chance to add in the nearest Sonic for a Route 44 at the last minute. How much easier the science, satellites and alien technology make it to get directions!

I heard a friend speak yesterday about needing to get over needing to know the plan. Amen, sister. I'm there. I need to get to the same spot...where more than anything else, I want everything God has to give me and I'm trusting, patient, confident enough to wait for the next turn instead of demanding, despairing, doubting when I don't have the entire journey mapped out for me.

Psalm 139

^1-6 God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand.
I'm an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I'm thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
I'm never out of your sight.
You know everything I'm going to say
before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you're there,
then up ahead and you're there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
I can't take it all in!

Oh, man, this? Again? What is it with me?

Psalm 139 (New International Version)
For the director of music. Of
David. A psalm.

O LORD, you have searched me and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts
from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar
with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it
completely, O LORD.

You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon
me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to
attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from
your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make
my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the
dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will
guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

Sometimes being me just wears me out, you know? Yesterday at lunch, I was working on my soon-to-be prize-winning entry essay on being a grown up. And nothing less than earth-shatteringly poignant with a hint of hilarity is going to do. I can see it all in my head. And as I wrote it, I cried. That happens to me a lot, the writing/crying combo. Any "writers" out there? Is that normal? It probably doesn't matter whether it is or not. Anyway, in this essay I'm covering a lot of ground: from making the phone calls in the hospital after my father died to preparing the turkey, my first poultry project ever, for the Christmas after my mother died. And it's really funny how I start out with no idea where I'm headed (other than the vague idea that somebody might find my turkey trauma amusing), I splatter words all over the paper, and then that idea starts to come to me, the idea that really needs to be the focus. I went from thinking I'm writing about the moment when it became clear that I was absolutely all 100% totally on my own in this world (except for the weird, unappetizing, pink-y gross turkey that still needed some of its insides to come out. And the houseful of relatives headed my way to enjoy said turkey. And the friends who'd cook the stupid turkey for me. That's not the point, OK? In my world, moms have the answers to life's most troubling questions: how long to cook the turky, how long to boil an egg, what I should wear to that party and if I have to go, how I should cut my hair...important stuff like that and it's impossible to fill that spot, at least for me. Dad covered every bit of trivia, Mom got the rest of it) to realizing how, thanks to my parents and what they gave me, I might be on my own now but I have everything I need to make it and so I'm going to be OK, no matter how many raw, nude turkeys there are waiting for me. It's a powerful thing to know and as I write, I feel all uplifted and such.

Until I realize that this is the very same lesson I learn over and over and over about God, His love for me, how He teaches me and I don't even know it and how dedicated He is to me even though I remain as easily distracted as ever. And then I just want to bang my head on my desk. Clearly, it is not a good idea to risk any more brain cells.

I want to see Him, touch Him, pick up the phone and call Him, but He's there, I know what I need to know, and now I just have to carry on. It, like preparing turkeys for Christmas dinner, just really is not all that difficult. Sheesh. But you knew that already, right?

Thank you, God, for giving me as many chances as it takes to get it. And for giving me the parents that you did, parents who gave me what I need to make it and to laugh along the way.

Good advice

Believe your beliefs and doubt your doubts.

-- F. F. Bosworth

This is one of those quote-of-the-day emails that just sometimes seem to hit it right on the head and say exactly what I need to hear. Of course, they pile up in my inbox so I have several to choose from!

Pray without ceasing

1 Thessalonians 5:17. That's what it says. Pray without ceasing. It's sandwiched between other good ideas like being cheerful and thanking God no matter what the situation is. I mean, it's good advice, right? Seems kinda hard to accomplish, but it's solid direction.

Have you ever been in those places where you actually pursue prayer without ceasing? Usually, it's in the extremes...a sort-of last ditch, got-nothing-else-to-cling-to effort made in desperation. Maybe that's just me, but that's when it's easiest to cling to God and His promises.

I don't like that about me. It's like being the friend who doesn't have time for you until she needs something from you. And I don't want to be her to anyone. I had one of these episodes lately where I felt like I had messed things up so badly that only divine intervention could fix things. And I was vacuuming and washing dishes...for some reason, those are activities that make it easier to pray without ceasing. I can't say why. No one else can either because I imagine I'm alone in that quirk, but you get the idea. Of course, I only vacuum on a quarterly basis. And as I've completed it for this quarter, it may be 3 months before the opportunity rolls around again.

So, my head's been turned away...until I mess up in a fairly exceptional manner...and then I'm back in the game. It's funny how that works. Thank goodness I'm not all that unusual and God gives second (ha!) chances.

Hey, it's me.

Click here to read John 9 and 10.

Does anybody else begin conversations this way? I know some people who make a formal introduction for every phone call, but I call more who begin the conversation this way.

I really like John 10. Ever since I pondered it in a Bible study (Experiencing God, I believe), it's meant a lot to me:

27My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. 28I give them
eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my
hand. 29My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can
snatch them out of my Father's hand.

My father is gone now, but I used to have this almost instant reaction to hearing his voice on the phone. I remember getting a phone call from him while I was at work and hearing his voice, I suddenly felt very homesick, and on the verge of tears. Or maybe over it, but you can't prove it.

And it's not like we were separated by much distance. I've never lived more than 30 minutes away. And growing up, I had a list of grievances against him that it took growing up to just get over. But no matter where we were or what the history was like, that voice to me meant strength and security. I am sure my dad was the smartest dad in the world. Always. And that's hard to come by just any day.

I knew I could count on my dad. He could (and would) tell me the right way to just about anything I needed to know. Unless I asked for his opinion directly on something and then more often than not, his nonanswer would just be so frustrating. But sometimes you need help and sometimes you need to figure things out on your own and now I guess that's just part of growing up. I do know that it's annoying, particularly when you don't agree on when you need the help!

I have this memory of his voice on the phone sort of wrapped up with the idea of Jesus and the Father. We should be able to recognize the voice calling us even when it only says "Hey, it's me." And that voice should make us feel secure because nothing can remove us from the Father's hand. And sometimes there are answers and sometimes there aren't and that's just a part of growing up, but that voice is always one to depend on.

And here I am on the verge of tears remembering a phone call. I don't remember the subject but I remember the voice. I remember where I was sitting and I remember the feeling. I think I'd know that voice today, nearly 9 years since I've heard it. I'm not sure what that says, but I'd like to be able to recognize the Father's voice that well someday.

Sticks and stones

Click here to read John 7 and 8.

In these chapters, the crowds are pretty riled. Jesus is avoiding Judea because people want to kill him until it's time for the Feast of the Tabernacles, a joyous time. He travels in secret to the city and faces the crowd. In Chapter 7, you can see how different parts of the crowd struggle to deal with Jesus and his message. And at the end of the chapter, the men sent to arrest Jesus by the Pharisees return without him because "No man ever spoke the way this man does." And chapter 8 begins with the story of the adulterous woman, and the question I always puzzle over: what was Jesus writing in the dirt? I don't think it matters much, but inquiring minds want to know. Anyway, Jesus continues the conversation with the crowds until he reached that point. Have you ever been there? You earnestly desire to explain what appears to be the unexplainable. They won't step one step closer but you've reached the end of your argument...the gap remains.

I've been there. And there are several issues that can end at a gap that is impossible to cross.
The Pharisees want to know who Christ is, but they don't want to believe his claims without more proof: more than his deeds, more than prophets and witnesses, more than his teaching, more than his knowledge, more than his promise, more than his demonstrated character...more.

And Christ...what else can he say or do? Nothing. Only the children of His Father will understand. His accusers, children of Satan, will never cross that gap. And when Jesus refused to change his story in the face of their attack, they called him a Samaritan and demon-possessed. Have you ever been there? Ensnared in an argument you can't escape from? These men resorted to names and stones when they reached the limit. And the limit: Jesus' claim to be God. I Am Who I Am.

This argument reminds me of the sheep who know the shepherd's voice. They aren't fooled, tricked away from him because they know him. And if these men were truly sons of Abraham, they would recognize the Messiah. Abraham was a friend of God. His children would recognize Jesus. These men know about Abraham, but they aren't his true children. We may know about God or Jesus, and not be His true children.

John 8
I Am Who I Am
48The Jews then said, "That clinches it. We were right all along when we called you a Samaritan and said you were crazy—demon-possessed!"
49-51Jesus said, "I'm not crazy. I simply honor my Father, while you dishonor me. I am not trying to get anything for myself. God intends something gloriously grand here and is making the decisions that will bring it about. I say this with absolute confidence. If you practice what I'm telling you, you'll never have to look death in the face."

52-53At this point the Jews said, "Now we know you're crazy. Abraham died. The prophets died. And you show up saying, 'If you practice what I'm telling you, you'll never have to face death, not even a taste.' Are you greater than Abraham, who died? And the prophets died! Who do you think you are!"

54-56Jesus said, "If I turned the spotlight on myself, it wouldn't amount to anything. But my Father, the same One you say is your Father, put me here at this time and place of splendor. You haven't recognized him in this. But I have. If I, in false modesty, said I didn't know what was going on, I would be as much of a liar as you are. But I do know, and I am doing what he says. Abraham—your 'father'—with jubilant faith looked down the corridors of history and saw my day coming. He saw it and cheered."

57The Jews said, "You're not even fifty years old—and Abraham saw you?"

58"Believe me," said Jesus, "I am who I am long before Abraham was anything."

59That did it—pushed them over the edge. They picked up rocks to throw at him. But Jesus slipped away, getting out of the Temple.

The Big Time

So you know how you plug along on projects, just being faithful, and sometimes you don't see results? It happens. And then sometimes, you're so surprised at what the hard work of a small group of women can turn up. Actually, God did the heavy lifting. I'm sure of that.

But...it was still some kinda cool to watch this video of Staci Wallace being interviewed on KTHV about the event we're having next week (please come. Tickets are $20 and every bit of what we raise goes to support Marketplace Connection and we've all enjoyed some really great things thanks to this ministry. We want to do more. Please come. I have tickets!!)

And I'm such a small part of this effort that I'm usually just swept along, but when the website flashes on that screen...I built it. Sure, someone with any kind of knowledge could take it and make it hot and someday I hope they will come along and make it into something amazing...but for now, I built it. And that feels good. At first, I was as creeped out as the first time someone far away recognized me from the blog because I realized at that point...someone else is actually reading what you write. Oh, man, that can't be good!

Father, thank you for building this group of women, each with amazing skills and a heart for service...and me. You are producing things in my life through this group that I would never have expected. Thank you for your plans, for already being in the event next week, and in whatever you have in store for us beyond that. Help us find the women you have in place and reach our community for you.