In the Quiet

We have recently recovered from a stomach bug here in the Howard house this past week. My husband got it the worst, complete with fever, stomach cramps and the whole nine yards. He rarely gets sick, but when he does he usually muddles through and it is over it in like a day. This time he had to miss two days of work, soooo it was pretty bad. The week was a flurry of checking on my husband, corralling two girls who didn’t understand why they couldn’t play with dada even though he was home, multiple trips to the store for sick supplies and all of my normal daily activities, including lots of nursing the baby, cleaning and keeping my toddler occupied, all while trying to be extra clean and germ conscious.

By the end of each day I was exhausted, feeling stretched to my limit with multi-tasking. By the end of the week I was starting to feel a little frazzled and upset. I was tired. The baby was up at 4 and didn’t want to go back to sleep. I was worn out with my toddler’s tantrums because she wanted cheese right now. I was wondering how nice it must be that my husband gets to actually “take off” when sick. Last time, I was sick for two weeks and still had to carry on. Whoa is me, I thought. And so continued my venting to myself. Pathetic, I know.

Thursday night when the girls were in bed and my husband was asleep, I sat out in the living room for a little down time before bed. It was then in the quiet that it hit me. I hadn’t had any time alone with Jesus all week. I missed it. I sat for a while, and then I began to pray. I processed my week and prayed for my family and some friends that were on my mind and heart. I tried to read my bible, but honestly I was so tired it was hard to focus on the words. That was it. I talked and God listened, and then I was quiet and just sat in his presence.    

I have to tell you though, it was such a sweet time. My heart felt refreshed and afterward I noticed a few things:

   1. I didn’t feel condemned. There was grace for my crazy week.

   2. I actually missed time with God and not just in an, “Oh crap, I forgot something on my to-do list” kind of way.

   3. Out of all the things that I can do for my family, the greatest is tending to my heart. This one is huge for me! In the Gospel Primer it says, “Do does not equal be.” I am seriously considering framing this reminder in my house because so often I am quick to find my identity in what I can or can’t do rather than in who I am before God. My girls and my husband will be better served if I am more settled in my identity as a human “being” not “doing” as a result of allowing God to shape me rather than just doing more.

  4. I can’t continue to attempt to give to my family or others what I don’t have. My giving and pouring out has to be sustained by my time with Jesus or I will burn out and lose sight of what is important. If “you are what you eat” so to speak, then I want to spend as much time as I can learning from Jesus so that I can be like him and give out of the overflow of what he is giving me.

I didn’t have a huge amount of time and I was tired. There wasn’t anything flashy involved in this time, not even much journaling or reading, but still seeking out his perspective and his voice made all the difference. I am grateful that in the midst of my imperfection and process God still shows up and reveals things me. He is able to make big things happen out of small moments and fill a living room with his ministering presence even in the quiet. 

Sophia Howard

Our Balsa Wood Crosses

How expensive has your faith been to you?  We regularly speak of following Christ as a costly endeavor, in terms of time, choices, finances, or relationships.  But how many of us have made any real sacrifices to follow Jesus?  We can say we've "taken up our crosses," but often those crosses are made of balsa wood, having the appearance of heft, but, in reality, having not much to them.

Certainly there are those who give, and give greatly, for their faith.  They are the ones who give up comfort, safety, and financial stability to love other people sacrificially.  But I'm pretty sure they are the exception rather than the rule.  The American church is not too much into sacrifice.

One of the fears I've heard repeated time and time again throughout my life, is the idea of the wasted sacrifice.  As a child, I'd be warned about giving homeless people money - because they'd spend it on booze or drugs.  You should buy them a sandwich instead, which no one ever did.  So there was no need to give, if you suspected the gift would be wasted.

Is this how Jesus looked at sacrifice (putting aside the question of whether a few dollars out of my pocket counts as a "sacrifice")?  He knew when he gave his life for humanity, that most of humanity would waste his gift.  He knew that he would be rejected by the ones he was giving his life for, but he didn't decide just to buy them a never-appearing sandwich.  He offered the sacrifice, and let them decide what to do with it.

Jesus doesn't call me to give to the needy if I'm reasonably sure they'll use my gift how I want them to.  He calls me to love them and sacrifice for them as he did for me.  It's not my responsibility what they do with my gift.  If my gift is a sandwhich, I need to make sure I give it.  Fear of misuse is not a valid reason to reject the command to give.  We should give wisely*, but we should give well.  

American Christians are sitting on immense resources (ask Joel Osteen about it), but we like comfort, and we're pretty bad at sacrifice.  As we go into Easter, let's keep in mind that Jesus wasn't afraid of sacrifice, and for that I am eternally grateful.

*Giving wisely means giving in ways that will help, not hurt.  I would not give an addict a bunch of money, but maybe a place to live or some time in rehab.  The sacrifice, on my end might be the same, but it has to be given wisely.  There is nothing wrong with buying a guy a meal instead of giving him money, but if your inner struggle is between giving him a few dollars, and giving nothing for fear that he'll waste it, I think the Bible is pretty clear that we are to give.

Jeff Hyson

Mary's Favorite

Okay. I admit it. Growing up, I loved Sunday night church. Less formal. Relaxed. Sitting with friends instead of parents. And singing. Lots more singing.

In the church I attended with my family, that meant hymns. Pastor would lead a song service and, each week, the gathered faithful called out their favorites. Everybody grabbed a faded hymnal from the wooden rack attached to the pew in front of him or her and, as the organ music swelled, we would belt out our praises. The Brooklyn Tabernacle choir we weren’t, but, oh, how the folks in our little church would (and could) sing! What a precious memory.

But there is another memory I have of those evening services. In our little town, there was a ramshackle, dingy, long-term care facility, one that had somehow slipped off the radar of any respectable agency’s oversight. I hated when my dad made us go there to sing or pass out cookies to the neglected and forgotten residents. It was dark and creepy…and I choked on the rancid smells of stale urine and filth.

Each Sunday night, Mary would show up from that “home.”  I don’t to this day know how she got there, but she would march up the aisle and sit royally down on the left side, front row. She carried a carpetbag of sorts, and after she settled in, she would pull out a spray can of deodorant, lift up her arms, and “shower.”  Or eat a drippy sandwich. Or roll curlers in her hair. Or turn on her beat-up transistor radio to a rock station… which, back then, could have been the Beach Boys. Can you picture this? It was so cool! She fascinated me, to say the least. Every kid’s eyes were fixed on her. We did not want to miss anything she did. Every parent’s eyes were glaring at the kids, warning them to be polite and pay attention to the pastor. Seriously? Could anybody really ignore that front row entertainment?

Mary was toothless and old---old in an unkempt and uncaring way. Her unwashed hair was piled on top of her head and corralled by a droopy and holey hairnet. She squinted at the world through a thick pair of men’s horn-rimmed bifocals that made her smallish face appear a bit owl-like. She sported a colorful and mismatched wardrobe of hand-me-downs on her tiny and wrinkled person, but, best of all, she had the amazing ability to swallow her face. You will have to use your imagination here because I can’t possibly explain it, but ask any kid that grew up in that church with me, and they, after chuckling at the mention of it, will verify that she could. What an incredible talent! I still wonder how she did it.

Mary was restless and fidgety, seemingly preoccupied with anything but the evening service. But the minute Pastor asked for favorites, she was immediately alert and focused. Before anyone else could respond, Mary would be shouting boldly, “52!”   Ask any kid that grew up in that church again. He or she will still remember that page 52 of our well-worn maroon hymnal was “The Old Rugged Cross,” Mary’s favorite. We sang it with her and for her every Sunday night. How that wizened, dear face would light up, transformed by a deep gratitude to and love for her caring Savior and King! To this day, I can’t sing that beloved hymn without smiling to myself as I fondly remember Mary. And then I wipe away the tears...

Pastor Greg Laurie tells a true story about a well-to-do couple browsing in a jewelry store. After examining a variety of cross necklaces, the woman turned to the proprietor and smiled, “I like these but do you have any without this little man on them?”

That’s exactly what people in our culture today want: a cross with no Jesus. A cross with no offense. A cross that will simply accessorize an outfit or bring good luck. But two thousand years ago, in its original context, the cross was a horrific and bloody symbol.

The Romans employed crucifixion because it was designed to cause a slow, torturous, and humiliating death. Blood-spattered crosses lined the roads leading into Roman cities, serving as a warning to anyone daring or foolish enough to come against Roman rule.

If there were any other way, do you suppose that the Father would have allowed His Son to die on one of those vile crosses and suffer the excruciating pain that He did? If there had been ANY other way we could have been forgiven, surely God would have found it. If living a good moral life or tithing or going on a mission trip would get us a free pass into heaven, then Jesus never would have died for us. But He did. There was and is no other way.

He was “subbing” for you and me. He was satisfying the just demands of a holy God. He was taking God’s wrath for our sin. He was paying the price that God’s holiness requires so that we can be forgiven. OUR blood should have stained the ground that day, but Jesus hung as our WILLING substitute. At the Cross, Jesus purchased the salvation of the world. He purchased salvation for Mary. He purchased salvation for me.

Ever tempted to doubt God’s love for you? Even for a second? Why not take a very long, hard look at the Old Rugged Cross? Nails didn’t hold Jesus to that Cross. His love did.

Little, old Mary knew that. Do you?

Eileen Hill

Soul Connections

When we allow someone to struggle, we actually create less pressure and actually instill more real freedom into the heart. We release them from ideals and legalism, actually validating their humanness and releasing their spirit from deeper levels of bondage.

As you move with transcendent curiosity into the life of another person, you must remember that he or she is a terrible tragedy unfolding into brilliant hope. Why? Because there are never simple solutions to complex problems. The law is never the cure, but maybe the medicine of life is willingly entering the battle for the heart and soul of someone you love. It is then that we join God in his deeper work and the story unfolds into an aroused appetite for God. This hunger always comes when dreams shatter and the mystery of moving through life requires courage and the deepest faith.

Moving others toward divine love sometimes means that you will call them to cooperate with a process that they cannot control - where the outcome is uncertain and faith takes a deeper root than ever before - where they join God even when it doesn't seem to make any sense on the surface of things. If the formulas, legalism, and the rule of law abound, spiritual rhythm looks like compulsive and possessive love. A non possessive love is neither threatening, controlling, nor deceptively manipulative - it's that which draws us and keeps us and that for which we crave more. It's a love that joins the mystery of God's Sovereign Movement that releases our best heart and deepest soul. Praise Him.

Thor Knutstad

Help: What I Am Facing Is Too Big For Me!

So what do you do when you feel vulnerable?

What to do when you feel like your life is crumbling down right before your eyes?

When all you have left is a realization that you are “out of control” and that you can’t do anything in your power to change your current reality or the outcomes?

Perhaps it is a specific enemy that is constantly prowling at your door.

Or the prospect of something you thought of as a good dream that is moving farther and farther away?

What if what you are experiencing is a sense of loneliness? You feel unprotected.

Friend, pray, like the Israelite King David did to remind himself of who God really is in the presence of both difficult and fading realities. David began his prayer, in Psalm 31, with a phrase that was echoed by Jesus himself at the cross: “I entrust my spirit into your hand. Rescue me, Lord, for you are a faithful God.” The following statements are what he prayed after he poured out his fainting heart before God. Print this blog or read it in your own Bible and underline what you sense you need the most right now, at this moment!

But I am trusting you, O Lord,

    saying, “You are my God!”

My future is in your hands.

    Rescue me from those who hunt me down relentlessly.

Let your favor shine on your servant.

    In your unfailing love, rescue me.

Don’t let me be disgraced, O Lord,

    for I call out to you for help.

Let the wicked be disgraced;

    let them lie silent in the grave.

Silence their lying lips—

    those proud and arrogant lips that accuse the godly.

How great is the goodness

    you have stored up for those who fear you.

You lavish it on those who come to you for protection,

    blessing them before the watching world.

You hide them in the shelter of your presence,

    safe from those who conspire against them.

You shelter them in your presence,

    far from accusing tongues.

Praise the Lord,

    for he has shown me the wonders of his unfailing love.

    He kept me safe when my city was under attack.

In panic I cried out,

    “I am cut off from the Lord!”

But you heard my cry for mercy

    and answered my call for help.

Love the Lord, all you godly ones!

    For the Lord protects those who are loyal to him,

    but he harshly punishes the arrogant.

So be strong and courageous,

    all you who put your hope in the Lord!

As you read and mediate on who God is, I hope you also hear David’s assurance that God sees your troubles and He cares about the anguish of your soul (verse 7). Then, in verse 8, King David looks backward to acknowledge how God has acted and intervened in the past. What David sees in doing so is that God has protected him and has created a spacious place for his feet.

May God come to your aide and set your feet in a “spacious” place! 

Diego Cuartas

Help: What I Am Facing Is Too Big For Me!

So what do you do when you feel vulnerable?

What to do when you feel like your life is crumbling down right before your eyes?

When all you have left is a realization that you are “out of control” and that you can’t do anything in your power to change your current reality or the outcomes?

Perhaps it is a specific enemy that is constantly prowling at your door.

Or the prospect of something you thought of as a good dream that is moving farther and farther away?

What if what you are experiencing is a sense of loneliness? You feel unprotected.

Friend, pray, like the Israelite King David did to remind himself of who God really is in the presence of both difficult and fading realities. David began his prayer, in Psalm 31, with a phrase that was echoed by Jesus himself at the cross: “I entrust my spirit into your hand. Rescue me, Lord, for you are a faithful God.” The following statements are what he prayed after he poured out his fainting heart before God. Print this blog or read it in your own Bible and underline what you sense you need the most right now, at this moment!

But I am trusting you, O Lord,

    saying, “You are my God!”

My future is in your hands.

    Rescue me from those who hunt me down relentlessly.

Let your favor shine on your servant.

    In your unfailing love, rescue me.

Don’t let me be disgraced, O Lord,

    for I call out to you for help.

Let the wicked be disgraced;

    let them lie silent in the grave.

Silence their lying lips—

    those proud and arrogant lips that accuse the godly.

How great is the goodness

    you have stored up for those who fear you.

You lavish it on those who come to you for protection,

    blessing them before the watching world.

You hide them in the shelter of your presence,

    safe from those who conspire against them.

You shelter them in your presence,

    far from accusing tongues.

Praise the Lord,

    for he has shown me the wonders of his unfailing love.

    He kept me safe when my city was under attack.

In panic I cried out,

    “I am cut off from the Lord!”

But you heard my cry for mercy

    and answered my call for help.

Love the Lord, all you godly ones!

    For the Lord protects those who are loyal to him,

    but he harshly punishes the arrogant.

So be strong and courageous,

    all you who put your hope in the Lord!

As you read and mediate on who God is, I hope you also hear David’s assurance that God sees your troubles and He cares about the anguish of your soul (verse 7). Then, in verse 8, King David looks backward to acknowledge how God has acted and intervened in the past. What David sees in doing so is that God has protected him and has created a spacious place for his feet.

May God come to your aide and set your feet in a “spacious” place! 

Diego Cuartas