Quotes

"Loving like Christ, requires sacrifice"  -- Pastor Keith Battle, Zion Church

A prayer to use when we are tempted to judge others:  "God, show me, Me."  -- Pastor Keith Battle, Zion Church

 "So well is the harp of human feeling strung, that nothing but a crash that breaks every string can wholly mar its harmony; and, on looking back to seasons which in review appear to us as those of deprivation an trial, we can remember that each hour, as it glided, brought its diversions and alleviations, so that, though not happy wholly, we were not, either, wholly miserable." 

-- Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin

The Calling

Author: Elisabeth Elliot
Source: All That Was Ever Ours
Scripture Reference: Psalm 84:11 Psalm 145:18-19 Psalm 84:5

But I Don't Feel Called

A seminary student stopped me a few days ago to ask the question that troubles many young people today. It is not new. I struggled with it when I was a student, as I suppose people have for many centuries. "How can I tell if God is calling me? I don't really feel called."

Usually the question refers to a life's work. Nobody seems to stew very much about whether God is calling them to run down to the grocery store or take in a movie. We need groceries. We like movies. If the refrigerator is empty or there's a good movie in town, we jump into the car and go. Even Christians do this. Spiritual "giants" do it, I guess. They don't even pray about it. But this matter of the mission field. Oh, God, do you want me there? Shall I risk everything and launch out to some third world backwater, some waterless desert, some dreadful place where there are starving children, refugees, Marxists, dictators? Are you asking me to drag my wife, my children, to a place like that?

The call of God to Saul of Tarsus was dramatic--he was blinded, knocked flat, and clearly spoken to. God got his attention. But later in Antioch the Holy Spirit spoke to certain prophets and teachers. "Set apart Barnabas and Saul for me, to do the work to which I have called them." That was good enough. Barnabas and Saul obeyed the divine call, even though it came through other men.

It was during the Mass of the Feast of St. Matthias, in a chapel in the midst of a great, silent forest, that Francis of Assisi heard the call of God. It was not through an angel or a disembodied voice from beyond, but through the reading of the Gospel for that day: "Go and preach the message, 'The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!' ...Freely you have received, freely give." When the young man heard the words read by the priest, he felt that God had finally illumined his path. He did not, however, trust his feelings. He asked the priest to explain the passage. The priest said that Christ's disciples were to preach repentance everywhere, to take nothing with them, and to trust God alone to supply their needs.

Francis thrilled with happiness at this revelation and exclaimed enthusiastically: "That is what I want! That is what I seek! That is what I long to do with all my heart!" On the instant, he threw away his staff, took off his shoes, and laid aside his cloak, keeping only a tunic; replaced his leather belt with a cord, and made himself a rough garment, so poor and so badly cut that it could inspire envy in no man.
Omer Englebert
St. Francis of Assisi

There are at least six lessons in this short story:

1. The man wanted God's direction.
2. He went to church, where he could hear godly preaching.
3. He listened to the Word of God.
4. He asked for help from one who was his spiritual superior.
5. He accepted the help.
6. He acted at once.

It is significant that he found in the words of the Lord the answer to a deep longing in his heart.

In C. S. Lewis's Preface to Paradise Lost, he describes Aeneas' unfaltering search for the "abiding city," his willingness to pay the terrible price to reach it at last, even though he casts a wistful side-glance at those not called as he is. "This is the very portrait of a vocation: a thing that calls or beckons, that calls inexorably, yet you must strain your ears to catch the voice, that insists on being sought, yet refuses to be found." Then there were the Trojan women who had heard the call, yet refused to follow all the way, and wept on the Sicilian shore. "To follow the vocation does not mean happiness," Lewis writes, "but once it has been heard, there is no happiness for those who do not follow."

Yes. My heart says yes to that. What agonies I suffered as a young woman, straining my ears to catch the voice, full of fear that I would miss it, yet longing to hear it, longing to be told what to do, in order that I might do it. That desire is a pure one. Most of our desires are tainted at least a little, but the desire to do the will of God surely is our highest. Is it reasonable to think that God would not finally reveal his will to us? Is it (we must also ask) reasonable not to use our powers of reason, given to us by him? Does it make more sense to go to the grocery store because groceries are needed than to go to foreign lands because workers are needed? If we deny the simple logic of going where the need is most desperate, we may, like the Trojan women, spend the rest of our lives suspended

Twixt miserable longing for present land
And the far realms that call by the fates' command.
Aeneid, V, 656

While Virgil wrote of mythical heroes, his lines echo the more ancient lines of the Psalms which are rich with assurances of God's faithful guidance of those who honestly desire it, and of the lasting rewards of obedience.

Happy the men whose refuge is in thee,
whose hearts are set on the pilgrim ways!
The Lord will hold back no good thing
from those whose life is blameless.
84:5, 11 NEB

Very near is the Lord to those who call to him, in singleness of heart.
He fulfills their desire if only they fear him."
145:18, 19 NEB

It is the sixth lesson from the St. Francis story that is most often overlooked. Obedience is action. Often we do not have any instant light on the particular question we've been asking God, but he has shown us something we ought to do. Whatever it is, however unrelated it may seem to the "big" decision, do it. Do it at once. We thus put ourselves in the path of God's will. A single step taken, if we have his Word as a lamp for our feet, throws sufficient light for the next step. Following the Shepherd we learn, like sheep, to know his voice. We will become acquainted with his call and will not follow a stranger's.

Blessings

Yesterday -- and the day before, for that matter-- were unsettling times.

Two evenings ago, I decided to take J.R. for a long walk, as I had taken him to the vet earlier and wanted him to end the day on a pleasant note.  We walked along at 9:00 PM, and I began to feel thankful for what he brings in my life.  He is a reminder that God gives us what we need to get by.  Mom went down to Charleston, and I decided to take J.R. so she could have the holidays pet-free.  At first, I was apprehensive about having to walk him several times a day while working at PAN and perhaps at DIOGI's in the evenings, along with taking a math class.  However, I've begun to enjoy taking him for walks.  And that late evening, we walked along in silent, snowy Fayetteville.  There was no noise, but I didn't feel alone.  I enjoyed looking at the lights and sights, and the little houses about the town.  I enjoyed hearing the crunch of the snow and feeling the chilly and crisp air in my lungs.  I was absorbed in the moment.  When I took J.R. down to see his old friend (a 12-yr.-old female husky, who gleefully whacks him with her paws because she thinks he's a puppy), I patted my pocket and noticed that my cell phone had fallen out!  I reluctantly walked back, loaded J.R. into the car, and retraced my steps.  In this moment- I sort of had a break-through.  Normally, I would have been panicking (my phone had some precious text-messages and pictures and over 150 contacts that I ironically had considered backing-up online the day before).  However, I just prayed that God's will be done and that he help me through the situation.  I never found my phone.  But I also never got bent out of shape.  In peaceful resignation, I went online and ordered a refurbished phone (great price and much better than my last phone) and moved on in life. God helped me not to sweat the situation.

Well, ater having had the J.R. for several days, I've started to realize that he is able to fill a space that recently has become an emotional void.  Alvaro was my love.  I spent much energy and thought and time loving him, and now that we've moved on, I don't really have an outlet for that love.  Mom and Dad are often gone, and I find myself alone.  Well, what J.R. brings to the table is need. He needs love and care that I need to give.  I feel so good taking him for a walk and lying down with him at night.  It feeds my soul to love him, he's been such a blessing in my life.

So you can probably imagine my concern when the vet told me he had a small cyst.   I noticed several weeks ago that he'd stopped doing his Sit Up (like a Prairie Dog) trick.  I thought he had forgotten and insisted that he do so, until finally-- upon acquiescing to my demands, he quickly sat up and plopped back down.  Then, several days later, I noticed a bump just below his anus.  The vet confirmed that this was a particularly sore area when he squeezed the bump and J.R. gave him an offended chirp.  I decided to take him in to have it removed yesterday, and reluctantly left him as the Vet Tech carried him off.  I knew the anesthesia was a risk, but the bump was tiny, and the surgery would be quick.  So, rather than worry, I turned around and went grocery shopping.  As I returned to the apartment, I noticed that Mom had called.  I called her back, and her voice had that gut-wrenching tone of worry that I dread hearing.  Her voice was shaky as she told me the vet had called her and had asked her to make a quick decision, as JR lay on the operating table:  The cyst was the "tip of the iceberg", apparently, as they had found a large mass around JR's rectum.  As general practitioners, they were very wary about removing the mass in such a complicated area of nerves and soft tissue; if they were to mess up, he could be incontinent for the rest of his life!  The alternative would be to send him to a soft-tissue specialist in Virginia Tech for a special procedure that would cost from $1000 to $2000.  Mom had minutes to decide.  She chose what we all believed was the best decision-- to keep him there and go forward with the procedure.  Her voice shook as she told me nobody was sure how things would turn out.

We did what we could only do and prayed.  Mom posted on Facebook and several of her friends said they'd pray for the little guy.  She called one of her good friends and I told Dad to pray.  We waited.

I worked anxiously in the office from noon till 4 yesterday, and when it was time, I hopped in my car to pick up J.R.  I was so nervous that I had not eaten a thing, though I think I was light-headed because of the stress.  I drove up to the animal hospital and waited in the lobby, trying to mask my concern as well as possible.  The other little animals there offered me consolation:  a 12-year-old wiener dog aptly named, Weenie, had been kicked by an ox and had a large bump on his nose,  but his big, dark eyes looked around the room calmly, as his owner held him like a little baby.  He had big, cute ears and was peaceful.  Another dog -- we'll call him big-boned-- walked in and began to bark at the others.  His owner was proud that the little beagle had gone from 58 to 40 pounds!  There were a lot of chunky animals in that room, and I felt proud of J.R.'s lean condition.  It felt like I had waited forever, when I saw a tall man with a pony-tail carrying out Little Buddy.  I immediately jumped up and grabbed him into my arms.  He looked at me with heavy eyelids, but was happy.  They told me he could walk and he was doing alright!  He'd had a large, serosanguineous sac beneath the cyst which they were able to drain.  It was not a tumor, and they'd never seen anything like it!  If it came up again, they'd know what to do!  I picked up his meds, and carried him out to the car.  I was so flustered, I had lost my keys and looked for 10 minutes until I realized they were in my pocket.

But, would his plumbing work?, as Mom put it. I didn't care, and was resolved to take care of him myself regardless of the outcome.  The thing I thanked God for that moment was that he was alive!  He had made it through and would get better!

That night, after having slept hours, Dad and I asked J.R. if he wanted to go for a walk.  His ears perked up a little, and Dad gently lifted him and carried him down the stairs and to the Methodist Church lot, which is a hot spot for doggies.  He impressed us both by lifting is leg, and piddling.  He walked circles and interestedly sniffed the paw prints and markings of other neighborhood dogs, and then-- to our delight-- he squatted and proved to us that the vets had done their job perfectly! He was OK!

The prayers of everyone had pulled through.  Though, I'll continue to pray that his recovery goes well.  One thing I took away from this experience is how attached we can become to animals, and rightly so.  They bring such an element of life into our lives!  I am grateful for this Little Man, especially that he's taken care of.

That's my Christmas present. Thank you, Lord!

 

My buddy.

And a look at his boo-boo.

Self-Denial

I was reading my morning devotional and came across this statement by Elisabeth Elliot:  "A Christian home should be a place of peace, and there can be no peace where there is no self-denial."  

Wow.

Further religions discuss the idea of self-denial:

He who has no thought of "I" and "mine" whatever towards his mind and
body, he who grieves not for that which he has not, he is, indeed, called
a bhikkhu [fully-ordinated monks on the way to Nirvana].   Buddhism.  Dhammapada 367

In Islam, an entire month of the year is dedicated to self-denial, as Muslims fast

through Ramadan in honor of Allah.

The Bible constantly teaches that, the first shall be last and the last shall be first.   

Self denial?  I'm beginning to think about the ways I've denied self, and where that's led me.  Recently, even as late as last night and 6AM this morning, I put that into practice.  I had worked a full day at PAN, and had come home to relax a while (which wasn't self-denial, and reminds me that God always allows us to choose breathing space).  Then, I got up, washed the dishes, and went down to DIOGI's to work an Ugly Christmas Sweater Party.  I was tired and would much rather have been sleeping at 1 AM, instead of sitting beside a speaker where the bass was so loud, I could feel it in my throat.  But... This was a way for me to help out DIOGI's and make some extra, much-needed money (which I'm not so sure is self-denial if you're getting something out of it).  But, I denied my primary wishes to make something else happen.  

And this morning, after returning at 1:30, I awoke at 6 AM, because I'm tired of being out of shape and want to start exercising again.  Now, I would love to be getting in a few extra hours of sleep, but, I'm out of shape!  I need the exercise!  Again, I'm not sure this is completely self-denial....maybe it's more so discipline, but whatever it is, I'm going against what my body would like!  That's for sure!

And I think each time I go to work at DIOGI's when I could be reading, running, visiting with friends, painting my nails, etc.  Is in some fashion, self-denial, but it's also something that benefits me in the long run.

Perhaps that's what God means when he encourages self-denial.  That, at first, we don't want to do it!  We want to satisfy our more primal, personal instincts.  But, if we can push through, with His grace, we come out in the long-run grateful that we did it.  

Part of me feels that self-denial has been the story of my college career.  But I'm also no poster-child for the concept.  I've always had a weak-spot for food, as certain people have a tendency to drink (though not necessarily alcoholic; the only time I drink is for practical purposes, like helping me feel at ease in a social situation.  Otherwise, I'm not particularly drawn to alcohol).  But food, however, is a different story.  Ever since I was little, one of my favorite songs we'd sing in Kindergarten was "Peanut Butter and Jelly."  Granted, the song was a blast:  we had all these motions to grinding up the peanuts, and stomping the grapes... but always, in the back of my mind, I pictured that yummy, yummy sandwich!  At Bible school, my favorite times were snack time!  And I'm no athlete, like my brother!  I have a distinct memory of playing soccer when I was younger and pretending that my shoe was untied when I was tired, resulting in a little girl running up and down the field and about every 20 ft. bending over to "tie her shoe", while the rest of the crowd (including her own team!) ran down the field in intense pursuit of the ball.  I never liked exercise, but Food and I, we're good pals.

So, I guess where I'm going with this is-- keeping in shape will always involve self-denial for me.  If I let the true Self run wild and have its desires, I'd be overweight and unhealthy.  But (and yes, this is bragging!), I managed to get in just enough shape to run a marathon last April, but trust me, it involved a lot of self-denial (until the last part when I was running around 40 miles a week; I could eat pretty much anything I wanted!)  During the training, the self-denial was difficult, but well-worth it.  I cherish that experience.  

Those things are superficial, material.  Imagine the reward in denying ourselves in fulfillment of God's will! ... Well, I can't!  'Cause I've never really done it.  

So, I guess I'm going to work on that.  Denying myself of judgmental thoughts, of cynical humor, of taking for me, rather than giving for someone else.  Denying myself of those old, selfish, ways. 

This is going to be a looooonnnnnng road....  But every journey starts with picking up the foot, placing it on the ground ahead, and repeating. 

Dad's Dream

Dad told me about a dream he had this morning, one of those dreams that's so realistic and charged with emotion, that it's something that you carry around with you for hours after waking:

"I was with my Grandad when he was dying.   It was a sad moment. [He loved Grandpa very much]  He eventually died, and after he had died, the eyes of his body opened and he stared right at me and said 'Look into my eyes with your clear-minded eyes.'  I wasn't afraid, and I loved Grandpa, so I went with him.  And when I looked into his eyes, I saw his mind winding down, and the last little bits of his earthly being.

My good buddy, [childhood friend],  came by and I talked with him about it.  He told said, 'Clark, if you really believe these things, then you're in a bad place.  I'm worried about you.'  So I decided not to tell him the rest of the story...

Then, I decided to do God's will and Fly.  So I flew for a little while.

The next thing I know, I'm doing magic shows for kids' birthday parties.  I didn't really know what to do, but I had this bowl with a candle in it.  So I asked the Holy Spirit to come into the bowl, and said 'Now watch, kids.'  When the Holy Spirit came into the bowl, it looked like a red-plasma substance, and it floated and hovered this way and that.  [One of the women from church] was beside me, amazed.  I asked her if she wanted to drink a little, and she wasn't too sure about it.  I was like, 'It's fine.' so I drank a little and passed it around.  Then, she finally drank a little, and she cried like a baby.  Then I did the same thing with [another family member].  It was an experience filled with joy.  The crying was a joyful crying.  

It was one of those dreams when you wake up and feel peace, but your heart feels joyful and resigned, like a wet rag.  

Dad and I talked for a while as he lay there. I told him about a dream I had when I was around 6, where I walked down to the creek in our back yard and saw Jesus in a lawn chair, fishing.  So I walked up and asked him what he was up to.  And he said he was fishing for men, and was pulling these grey, floppy, Gollum-looking creatures out of the water.  The looked weird, but I wasn't afraid.  

Dad believes (I'll try to get it right) that God exists to animate material things.  Things that would normally be inanimate, and God, living in a spiritual dimension, creates "Life" by combining both the spiritual with the material.  Dad thinks that God and angels live in Eternity, or Heaven, or a Fourth Dimension (whatever you want to call it), where matter simply cannot persist (as Einstein touched on when he determined that no moving matter can ever exceed the Speed of Light). Only spiritual entities can exist in Eternity.  Matter simply cannot join.  When humans die, they enter into this dimension, and when Christ was born, he represented the first material "ambassador" from Eternity. 

Then, Dad told me of the Seven Sages, which preceded the Greek philosophers and would offer years of thought and wise advice encapsulated into a pithy phrase.  "Know thyself."  "All things in moderation."  "Be far-sighted with everything."  Dad told me he has always tried to have long-vision about things (I think this means imagination).  

This morning, I was going to do my daily Meditation by watching a Keith Battle sermon.  But the blasted site would not work!  ... now I'm grateful for that.  I feel like this morning has been one of those little gems we have in life that will stay with us forever. 

~~ Thank you, Lord, for those moments that define us and shape us.  Those small, unplanned experiences which we will carry with us for the rest of our lives, and which will  alsogive us a tiny glimpse of who You are.  ~~

 

The following is a picture of the Andromeda Galaxy.  It's about 2.5 million light-years away from West Virignia.

A Child's Obedience

I like the advice E.E. offers in the devotional below.  If God allows, I will also get to be a mother one day, and I'm sure I'd learn to be the Spanking Queen!

A Child's Obedience

By Elisabeth Elliot

Questions from a young mother: "How can I train my twenty-month-old to come to me? How many times do I say 'Come here' before I go and grab him?"
The very first time you tell the child to do or not to do something (come here, don't touch, sit still), (1) make sure you have the child's attention; (2) look him straight in the eye (let him know he has your attention); (3) speak in an even, normal tone, address him by name, give the command; (4) give him a few seconds to let the message sink in; (5) speak his name again, and ask, "What did I say?" Since training should begin long before he is talking, he will not be able to verbalize the answer, but he should obey. Children always are way ahead of their parents' idea of what they can understand. (6) Tell him once more: "Mama said come, Andrew." If he does not obey, spank him. After the first time or two of practice, spank after you've spoken once.
To make a habit of repeating commands is to train the child to believe you never mean what you say the first time. If the first lesson in obedience is carried out as above, the child learns quickly that you mean exactly what you say. I know it works--my parents taught us this way, and I watched them train my younger sister and brothers. I found that it worked with my daughter Valerie.
If you run after the child and physically force him to do what you say (e.g. grab him when he doesn't come, take something away when he touches it), you are training him not to pay attention to your words. He knows he can get away with anything until forcibly restrained.
Now about spanking. The book of Proverbs speaks of the "rod of discipline," (22:15) and says, "Rod and reprimand impart wisdom, but a boy who runs wild brings shame on his mother" (29:15, NEB). "He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him" (13:24, NIV). My mother used a very thin little switch from a bush in the backyard. We knew there was one in every room, readily available to administer a couple of stings to our legs if we disobeyed. Valerie keeps a thin wooden paint stirrer handy in the house, and also in her purse. One or two firm "paddles" on a small outstretched hand are language that an under-two child understands very clearly.
Don't imagine that following this advice will mean that your child will be punished twenty times a day. The wonderful thing about these simple rules is that punishment needs to be used very seldom, if you start soon enough. If you begin at the beginning to show the child you are serious about obedience, you will not need to undo the months or years of raising your voice, repeating commands again and again, rushing after him. You will have control. The child will be learning to trust the word of authority (which will make it much easier later for him to believe that God means what He says) and your life together will be much more peaceful and happy.
Suppose your child is already twenty months or three years old and you have not taught him to obey? Then you must both pay a price, but I believe it can be done. Set aside a whole morning to start over. Talk to him, tell him how much you love him, tell him, "This morning we are going to learn the most important lesson you will ever have to learn." Let him see that you are in earnest. Start practicing the beginner's rules.
A word of caution: spanking, in my opinion, should be for deliberate disobedience only. When a child spills his milk or stuffs peanuts up his nose or pours your talcum powder all over the carpet, he is not being disobedient. He is only acting his age. You have not forbidden him to stuff peanuts up his nose. If you have, and he does it anyway, spank him. If, in defiance, he dumps his milk on the floor, spank him. But childish mistakes and messes must be pointed out, and by all means he should be made to rectify them or clean them up as best he can. Think of punishments that will fit the "crimes," but reserve the stick or the switch for deliberate disobedience. He will soon learn that when he defies you, a spanking follows as sure as the dawn follows the night--even if you are in church or the supermarket. Take him out to the car and spank him. Explain the whole system to him again (after the spanking), if necessary. Put your arms around him, assure him of your love, and change the subject.

Elisabeth Elliot:  One of the most transfiguring truths I know is that of our being called to share the sufferings of Christ. Colossians 1:24 and 1 Peter 4:12-19 put a wholly different perspective on the matter than any of us could have come up with. It's up to God to change hearts. It's up to us to do the simple (not always easy), humble, sacrificial thing, and to faithfully leave the rest to God. "Continue to do good" (1 Peter 4:19, NIV), which means just do the next thing, whatever that may be (mend those trousers? starch a white shirt?)