I love markets in the morning. Breakfast vendors flipping pancakes and frying eggs, the Chinese version of a breakfast burrito. Wooden stools and makeshift tables crowd the sidewalks; people come out of their apartments for their daily breakfast fare. Spread on the ground, a man on his stomach crawls his way through the throngs of people. A radio, strapped to his back, blares Chinese opera. Notice me, he says.
He's on the ground.
It's easy to miss him. People avert their eyes, dodging him with near misses as they clutch their saran wrap thin plastic bags tight.
My daughter and I walk through the market towards violin lessons on the other side. I love early mornings, I tell her.
I am reminded why I'm living here in this country. While the rich seem to be getting richer, the poor, well, it's the opposite.
A soy milk lady's stand. She pours freshly made soy milk into plastic cups for potential customers.
An old man sits on a small stool fixing bikes. A pile of spare parts lay on a mat next to him. His supply isn't too shabby. My daughter got a new pedal for her bike for less then a $1 the other day.
We see the man this morning because we're looking.
I'm on a hunt.
Not for all things beautiful as I'd normally call it. But yes, beautiful. This man is made in His image. We reflect God's beauty and image but sin and all its ugliness has marred the beauty and has also marred my ability to see beauty.
We see him and stop.
What's his story? How did he get here? Why is he on his stomach?
Did someone drop him off so he can beg?
Is he being used? My mind turns to horror. Is he really crippled?
I stop myself.
The questions are endless and for the moment they aren't that important.
I love to know that whatever I'm involved with is worth my resources. My time, my energy, my money, but that is all from the Lord anyways, so why do I measure it out like I won't have enough?
When did I forget that?
We stop and I reach into my purse from some money. Crowds press in from behind and we walk backwards through them because there is only way to go back.
My daughter walks over to the man and drops money into his can. People stare. They are stopping now. Not to look at him but to look at her.
An eleven year old, oblivious to stares, stoops down and smiles.
Eyes meet.
She smiles and speaks a blessing for him.
The man's eyes light up. There's something beautiful and innocent in a child's eyes.
She skips back to me.
Hand in hand, we walk. Lord, bless this man, I pray. Lord, mercy! So many are hurting.
What holds me back from welcoming a stranger? What if I had left earlier on my "hunt for beauty" and I had had more time to look for ways this morning to serve?
Loving people and looking to their interests and needs must be more important than my present ones.
Jan Johnson in Invitation to the Jesus Life says, "to befriend such a 'lowly one',(Romans 12:16) transforms us." This keeps us from pretending to be wiser than we are because those we are caring for become our teachers.
Our walk out to the market this morning surprised me. It's being torn down. The vendors are gone. There are no more breakfast stalls. A day's difference in worlds.
I don't want to miss the opportunities the God gives me to love those around me.w
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Is Growth Happening? Learning to Abide
Discouragement flooded my heart the other day as I thought
about an emotional breakdown I had last week. Really? I thought I was over
that. Why do some of the same things that I’ve been dealing with for years continue
to come up? Haven’t I experienced victory in that already? Can it be that I
need to continue to learning that lesson until I go home to meet You, Lord? Am
I growing? Is there fruit? How can I change? Is there hope for one like me?
Abide in Me, and I in
you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine,
neither can you, unless you abide in Me. (John 15:4)
Fruit bearing comes only by way of abiding.
How do I then abide? What does this mean?
Every branch in me
that doesn’t bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he
prunes, that it may bear more fruit. John 15:2
The Master Gardener prunes me that I may bear more fruit. Less
of me and more of Him. That was John the Baptist’s prayer. It’s mine, too. But
it’s harder than I think. “Humility is nothing but the disappearance of self in
the vision that God is all,” (Murray, Humility)
Humility must come from the life of Christ alone within me.
I desire such humility, but it eludes me. The more I chase after it consciously
the more I realize that I’m still so very far from reaching it. Murray says
that the person who makes abiding in Christ the reality, the place where we
live, where we allow Christ to be formed in us, then and only then we forget
our “pursuit of holiness and humility” and we graciously serve , honor, and
bless others without a reference to self.
Lord, by your grace
and mercy, keep me abiding in You. Reveal to me the things that keep me from
living on my own. May the fruit of humility
emerge as You pursue me and I learn to submit to the discipline and chastening
from Your gentle hand.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Broadsided- when life's circumstances catch you by surprise
It was just that. A surprise. One after another. I was caught off-guard by this past week’s circumstances. Life seems to throw curveball and sometimes they all land in the same week. Father saw fit to shake up my faith and remind me of His sovereignty and perfect grace in a hard way. Perhaps the journey had just slipped into a comfortable pace and I was really enjoying it. Then things began to happen.
Though not one particular situation, it seems that altogether they formed one perfect storm. Perfect in the sense that I was left desperate for God. Perfect in the sense that it pushed me to my knees. Relational issues do that. They are by far more exhausting for the heart than many of life’s problems. Guarding my heart from anxiousness and fear is not always easy when things in my relational world aren’t faring well. I know I’m not alone in this.
By Thursday, I was running into my afternoon of solitude depleted and weary. My sweet husband took over homeschooling and I locked myself in our small guestroom. Lighting a candle, filling my cup of tea, and gathering my Bible and journal, I slipped away into His presence.
I was caught unaware and it had so quickly robbed me of joy and strength. Weeping in prayer, I found solace in His presence.
His presence is with us always but so often I am not attentive to His being with me. Lord, are you with me? I ask. Yes, my daughter, I am. You only need to look up and see Me.
As I reflected on each event, each conversation, I brought my heart to Father. My deepest longings and questions, they’re not too much for Him. In fact, I can bring them to Him and let His perfect Light shine on them. David Benner says that our deepest longings reflect our spiritual health and appetite. Am I hungering mostly for Him? Why did the words spoken and exchanged affect me in the way they did? Sitting there in discomfort, Father revealed to me my heart and spoke to me in the quiet. Healing does come from His presence. His words and presence are balm for my soul.
What does His presence mean to me? To you? Attune my heart to your presence, Lord. Make me more aware of how you are working, drawing, changing, molding, shaping. Sometimes He answers with Hard. He allows Hard to come to show us more of Himself. He allows Hard to show us more of ourselves. Calvin once said, “There is no deep knowing of self without a deep knowing of God, and there is no deep knowing of God without a deep knowing of self.”
God, how thankful I am that you meet us in the depths, and you long that we would be found wholly in You.
Though not one particular situation, it seems that altogether they formed one perfect storm. Perfect in the sense that I was left desperate for God. Perfect in the sense that it pushed me to my knees. Relational issues do that. They are by far more exhausting for the heart than many of life’s problems. Guarding my heart from anxiousness and fear is not always easy when things in my relational world aren’t faring well. I know I’m not alone in this.
By Thursday, I was running into my afternoon of solitude depleted and weary. My sweet husband took over homeschooling and I locked myself in our small guestroom. Lighting a candle, filling my cup of tea, and gathering my Bible and journal, I slipped away into His presence.
I was caught unaware and it had so quickly robbed me of joy and strength. Weeping in prayer, I found solace in His presence.
His presence is with us always but so often I am not attentive to His being with me. Lord, are you with me? I ask. Yes, my daughter, I am. You only need to look up and see Me.
As I reflected on each event, each conversation, I brought my heart to Father. My deepest longings and questions, they’re not too much for Him. In fact, I can bring them to Him and let His perfect Light shine on them. David Benner says that our deepest longings reflect our spiritual health and appetite. Am I hungering mostly for Him? Why did the words spoken and exchanged affect me in the way they did? Sitting there in discomfort, Father revealed to me my heart and spoke to me in the quiet. Healing does come from His presence. His words and presence are balm for my soul.
What does His presence mean to me? To you? Attune my heart to your presence, Lord. Make me more aware of how you are working, drawing, changing, molding, shaping. Sometimes He answers with Hard. He allows Hard to come to show us more of Himself. He allows Hard to show us more of ourselves. Calvin once said, “There is no deep knowing of self without a deep knowing of God, and there is no deep knowing of God without a deep knowing of self.”
God, how thankful I am that you meet us in the depths, and you long that we would be found wholly in You.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
A Taxi Ride (Living with Greater Boldness)
I peer into the taxi. I was hoping to take the bus this morning but I’d never get there in time for w-ship at our friends’ home. The kids pile into the back of the car. I exchange greetings and directions with the driver. Father, will you direct this conversation? I need you.
The usual exchange dominates most of the first half of the car ride. 3 kids? All yours? You must make tons of money! How much does your husband make? (I am certainly not going to add that I have one more son who’s not with us this morning.) Where are you from? (I brace myself as usually the next half of the drive is about my sucky Chinese and how I should have learned better.) But we don’t go there this morning. Thankful. I don’t mince words. I’m going to ch-rch this morning with my kids. I’m a follower of J-sus. Have you ever heard of J-sus? Time’s running out and I may never see this man again. I share with him a little of my faith. His silence tempts me to be quiet. I believe in Pusa, he protects me. I choose to pr-y. I finish the car ride interceding for this man and his family. I speak to the kids in English, pr-y for this man, for his heart, for his family.
After all, life’s too short.
A sober reminder has brought a new desire to be bolder in expressing my faith. I ran into a former neighbor yesterday morning. She and her husband had been very dear to us in our early years in this apartment complex. We got to know them after Elijah was born and their grand-daughter was born soon after. We had their family over many times; we made jiaozi (dumplings) and spaghetti. (my spaghetti pales in comparison to their jiaozi) Mr. Wang, her husband passed away while we were away. I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Wang’s smile and encouragement has been sweet to us over the years. He’d see me carrying a load of groceries home from the market and he’d tell me what a good mom I was. When I was outside throwing ball with the kids he’d come out with his pruning shears and we’d chat about plants, children, and life. He was tickled over the way my kids enjoyed food, namely, Micah. Micah really enjoyed his 1000 year old egg dipped in dark vinegar the last time we were in their home. We’d shared the g-spel with him and had read some parts of the Book with him. Now he’s gone. I don’t know if he ever professed faith in J-sus. My heart breaks. I wish I had been more faithful . There are words I wish I had shared with him this past year. I thought he’d be around longer. Only in his late 60’s. I thought there would be more opportunities but they slip away quickly.
Without warning. They’re gone.
I went to find my fruit seller lady yesterday. She hasn’t been there all week and they tell me she’ll be back. Yesterday I find out she’s not. Life’s too much. Three daughters, and a grandma to care for. She’s from the countryside and they had hoped for a boy. She’s the one I pleaded with 4 years ago not to have an abortion. Her third precious daughter is their special blessing, she says. She’s now gone to work in a factory. I’m glad I’ve shared with her but I miss her. I wish I could tell her again. I thought I’d have another chance.
The usual exchange dominates most of the first half of the car ride. 3 kids? All yours? You must make tons of money! How much does your husband make? (I am certainly not going to add that I have one more son who’s not with us this morning.) Where are you from? (I brace myself as usually the next half of the drive is about my sucky Chinese and how I should have learned better.) But we don’t go there this morning. Thankful. I don’t mince words. I’m going to ch-rch this morning with my kids. I’m a follower of J-sus. Have you ever heard of J-sus? Time’s running out and I may never see this man again. I share with him a little of my faith. His silence tempts me to be quiet. I believe in Pusa, he protects me. I choose to pr-y. I finish the car ride interceding for this man and his family. I speak to the kids in English, pr-y for this man, for his heart, for his family.
After all, life’s too short.
A sober reminder has brought a new desire to be bolder in expressing my faith. I ran into a former neighbor yesterday morning. She and her husband had been very dear to us in our early years in this apartment complex. We got to know them after Elijah was born and their grand-daughter was born soon after. We had their family over many times; we made jiaozi (dumplings) and spaghetti. (my spaghetti pales in comparison to their jiaozi) Mr. Wang, her husband passed away while we were away. I couldn’t believe it. Mr. Wang’s smile and encouragement has been sweet to us over the years. He’d see me carrying a load of groceries home from the market and he’d tell me what a good mom I was. When I was outside throwing ball with the kids he’d come out with his pruning shears and we’d chat about plants, children, and life. He was tickled over the way my kids enjoyed food, namely, Micah. Micah really enjoyed his 1000 year old egg dipped in dark vinegar the last time we were in their home. We’d shared the g-spel with him and had read some parts of the Book with him. Now he’s gone. I don’t know if he ever professed faith in J-sus. My heart breaks. I wish I had been more faithful . There are words I wish I had shared with him this past year. I thought he’d be around longer. Only in his late 60’s. I thought there would be more opportunities but they slip away quickly.
Without warning. They’re gone.
I went to find my fruit seller lady yesterday. She hasn’t been there all week and they tell me she’ll be back. Yesterday I find out she’s not. Life’s too much. Three daughters, and a grandma to care for. She’s from the countryside and they had hoped for a boy. She’s the one I pleaded with 4 years ago not to have an abortion. Her third precious daughter is their special blessing, she says. She’s now gone to work in a factory. I’m glad I’ve shared with her but I miss her. I wish I could tell her again. I thought I’d have another chance.
What about all the others I could have shared with, but didn’t?
Asking tonight for greater boldness, sensitivity to the HS, grace to be obedient to take every opportunity.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Entering into Suffering
I saw a little girl on the stairs of the skytrain last night. Dolled up pretty, plastic beads, two pigtails, and a pink dress. Just like any 6 year old would like it. Except, she had a large 7-11 cup in her hand. Begging for money, she.
We're in Bangkok for a few days before heading back to our home in the East. It's supposed to be a few days of "regrouping" as a family, as we like to call it. Busyness can take over our life so easily and we know if we don't mark out time to rest, then we won't do it. But even though I'm in a comfortable restful place this morning, my heart is uneasy.
As I passed this little girl I stopped for a moment and uttered more like a gasp. What's her life going to be like? Where will she go next? With pretty looks like her will they keep her doing what they're asking her to? Will it get worse? I put my hand out over her and prayed for her. Mercy, Lord. Please have mercy. Don't let the darkness overwhelm her. Bring believers into her life to love her. Rescue her, please.
There were a group of vendors selling their wares at the bottom of the stairs. Foreigners mill amidst the locals trying to get their bargains, stuff, souveniers, we call it. Suddenly, my mouth goes dry. I just want to scream. What matters anymore? This little one shouldn't be doing this! At six she should be at home with her mama and daddy.
I know there are many more. The alleys that run off this very busy road are full of them. Except they're just a little older. Young women at bars waiting for what this evening will hold for them. For my kids, my parents, for a future, they say. My grandma, mom and sisters all do this. Does it matter?
God, will there be an end to this madness? This darkness, will it ever stop?
I pray. As Father wakes me in the night I pray. Is there anything else I can do? I believe God is already at work. I know there are other believers in the city also crying out to Him on behalf of the suffering of people. But more need to join in. I need to always be moved to prayer when I see suffering. That should be my response. To walk away and not be moved would indicate my heart is callous and cynical. Keep my heart soft, Lord. Tender towards You and others. Move me to prayer. Help me to enter in to others' suffering.
"I have seen many men work without praying, though I have never seen any good come out of it; but I have never seen a man pray without working." James Hudson Taylor
We're in Bangkok for a few days before heading back to our home in the East. It's supposed to be a few days of "regrouping" as a family, as we like to call it. Busyness can take over our life so easily and we know if we don't mark out time to rest, then we won't do it. But even though I'm in a comfortable restful place this morning, my heart is uneasy.
As I passed this little girl I stopped for a moment and uttered more like a gasp. What's her life going to be like? Where will she go next? With pretty looks like her will they keep her doing what they're asking her to? Will it get worse? I put my hand out over her and prayed for her. Mercy, Lord. Please have mercy. Don't let the darkness overwhelm her. Bring believers into her life to love her. Rescue her, please.
There were a group of vendors selling their wares at the bottom of the stairs. Foreigners mill amidst the locals trying to get their bargains, stuff, souveniers, we call it. Suddenly, my mouth goes dry. I just want to scream. What matters anymore? This little one shouldn't be doing this! At six she should be at home with her mama and daddy.
I know there are many more. The alleys that run off this very busy road are full of them. Except they're just a little older. Young women at bars waiting for what this evening will hold for them. For my kids, my parents, for a future, they say. My grandma, mom and sisters all do this. Does it matter?
God, will there be an end to this madness? This darkness, will it ever stop?
I pray. As Father wakes me in the night I pray. Is there anything else I can do? I believe God is already at work. I know there are other believers in the city also crying out to Him on behalf of the suffering of people. But more need to join in. I need to always be moved to prayer when I see suffering. That should be my response. To walk away and not be moved would indicate my heart is callous and cynical. Keep my heart soft, Lord. Tender towards You and others. Move me to prayer. Help me to enter in to others' suffering.
"I have seen many men work without praying, though I have never seen any good come out of it; but I have never seen a man pray without working." James Hudson Taylor
Friday, November 18, 2011
Learning to retreat
Took a spiritual retreat today. My sweet husband took over the homeschooling for the day. I left the house before the kids got up, just long enough to write out assignments for the older ones and to lay out books for our youngest. I ran out as fast as I could seeing that I am highly distractable and a pile of dishes soon could be beckoning me home.
I went to my parents home which is empty for the day. They're returning from a trip this evening so it worked out. After brewing that important first cup of coffee I sat down on the couch with my pile of books, my Bible and my journal. I began as I always do. Writing out blessings, things for which I'm so thankful for.
It's funny how I can so easily be all about the ministry, but not all about God. I read a quote this morning that reflected this sentiment. " (we) must be on our good lest beginning too soon to preach (minister) they rather chatter themselves into Christianity than live themselves into it and find themselves at home there."
I grabbed Foster's book on Prayer this morning on my way out. My over ambitious heart wants to read everything today. Anyone who's read this book can testify it's not a "quick read" but rather one that stirs up great reflection and thought regarding the matter of prayer and it most likely will take me a long time to get through it. As I flip through the pages I can see I've read this before. Probably 16 years ago when I was mature, after all I was in seminary and headed overseas. I had highlighted some pretty good points, but I can also see that I stopped reading at chapter 5. The Prayer of Relinquishment, Foster calls it.
I feel the Spirit's prodding. He does that. We ask that He will speak to us, show us where we need to grow, show us what things we are still holding onto.... And He does.
I journaled this morning about fears. Fear of the future easily holds my heart captive. We're in the beautiful Northwest right now, and we return to the smoggy city we call home in 2 months. Scripture this morning spoke from I Peter 4 on suffering, about entering the sufferings of Christ. I went on a long walk with Jesus to talk about that with Him. I came home and flipped open to this chapter on Relinquishment and I wonder, are you speaking to me today, Lord?
The great thing about it is that as Foster says it, "we're not locked into a preset, determinist future. We are co-laborers with God, as Paul put it- working with God to determine the outcome of events. Therefore our prayer efforts are a genuine give and take, a true dialogue with God- and a true struggle." I can be honest. I can wrestle with the Lord in prayer. Yet, my will needs to be surrendered moment by moment as I face decisions about my family, ministry, home, future.
Foster describes five kinds of prayer. The prayer of self-emptying where we meditate through Philippians 2 which describes Christ who emptied Himself. The prayer of surrender, going with Jesus in prayer to the Garden of Gethsemane, invited God into our lives, surrendering our will to Him. The prayer of abandonment, allowing God to specify what needs to be laid at His feet. The prayer of release, lifting up our loved ones to the Lord, placing our future, hopes and dreams into His hands, and trusting Him to care for everything. Finally, the prayer of resurrection where we pray, "Lord, bring back to life what will please you and advance your kingdom. Let it come in the form you desire. Let it be in your time and in your way. Thank you, Lord, for resurrection."
It's near the end of my day, and I have to go back home. I have a skype call in an hour. I can take with me these words from the Lord. I can release to Him again all that I am. I can fall into His arms and trust Him to catch me.
I went to my parents home which is empty for the day. They're returning from a trip this evening so it worked out. After brewing that important first cup of coffee I sat down on the couch with my pile of books, my Bible and my journal. I began as I always do. Writing out blessings, things for which I'm so thankful for.
- Johanna's 6 teeth that were successfully pulled
- Elijah's 2 teeth that were yanked out yesterday- thankful he's not too mad at us!
- For a day to rest and quiet down, to reflect and to pray
- That I'm an extrovert and a day retreat will energize me for the month
- For seasons
- For the Father's love, so extravagant and beyond understanding
It's funny how I can so easily be all about the ministry, but not all about God. I read a quote this morning that reflected this sentiment. " (we) must be on our good lest beginning too soon to preach (minister) they rather chatter themselves into Christianity than live themselves into it and find themselves at home there."
I grabbed Foster's book on Prayer this morning on my way out. My over ambitious heart wants to read everything today. Anyone who's read this book can testify it's not a "quick read" but rather one that stirs up great reflection and thought regarding the matter of prayer and it most likely will take me a long time to get through it. As I flip through the pages I can see I've read this before. Probably 16 years ago when I was mature, after all I was in seminary and headed overseas. I had highlighted some pretty good points, but I can also see that I stopped reading at chapter 5. The Prayer of Relinquishment, Foster calls it.
I feel the Spirit's prodding. He does that. We ask that He will speak to us, show us where we need to grow, show us what things we are still holding onto.... And He does.
I journaled this morning about fears. Fear of the future easily holds my heart captive. We're in the beautiful Northwest right now, and we return to the smoggy city we call home in 2 months. Scripture this morning spoke from I Peter 4 on suffering, about entering the sufferings of Christ. I went on a long walk with Jesus to talk about that with Him. I came home and flipped open to this chapter on Relinquishment and I wonder, are you speaking to me today, Lord?
The great thing about it is that as Foster says it, "we're not locked into a preset, determinist future. We are co-laborers with God, as Paul put it- working with God to determine the outcome of events. Therefore our prayer efforts are a genuine give and take, a true dialogue with God- and a true struggle." I can be honest. I can wrestle with the Lord in prayer. Yet, my will needs to be surrendered moment by moment as I face decisions about my family, ministry, home, future.
Foster describes five kinds of prayer. The prayer of self-emptying where we meditate through Philippians 2 which describes Christ who emptied Himself. The prayer of surrender, going with Jesus in prayer to the Garden of Gethsemane, invited God into our lives, surrendering our will to Him. The prayer of abandonment, allowing God to specify what needs to be laid at His feet. The prayer of release, lifting up our loved ones to the Lord, placing our future, hopes and dreams into His hands, and trusting Him to care for everything. Finally, the prayer of resurrection where we pray, "Lord, bring back to life what will please you and advance your kingdom. Let it come in the form you desire. Let it be in your time and in your way. Thank you, Lord, for resurrection."
It's near the end of my day, and I have to go back home. I have a skype call in an hour. I can take with me these words from the Lord. I can release to Him again all that I am. I can fall into His arms and trust Him to catch me.
 |
| Found this picture of Micah at 2 behind the wheel. We're kind of like that with God. We like it behind the wheel. :) |
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
A series of yesses
I was only four at the time. And I said yes. Yes, I believed in Jesus and needed Him to forgive me of my sins. Whatever "asking Jesus into your heart" means to a four year old, I wanted to.
Though I was only four, I understood that I had a choice and I made the choice. For the whole year that followed, I said yes to him each night. Afraid that Jesus might leave in the night, I asked him again, and again, and again. She discovered me one night, kneeling by my bed, praying aloud. Mom quickly assured me that Jesus was with me forever and I never needed to fear again that He would leave. Mom would continue to be that voice through the years, reminding me that the Lord was still here. Faithful. Present. Close to me.
Those early memories came to me again the other day. Funny how they do. My youngest son asked me a question, one of those innocent questions that are so perfect. One of those questions that sit funny in the heart. That reminds me of the little questions that remain deep down. Why do we have so many friends that are hurting, Mommy? We were listing off the friends we needed to pray for. Seems every where we turn, each day there's at least one new email requesting prayer. Urgent prayer. I know He is still here. I know He sees each tear and hears each cry. He is not far away. But it's so hard when it hurts.
I got to thinking about my life. A life made up of small decisions to say yes to the Lord. Small yesses in my childhood, to obey, to confess, to follow the Lord, to surrender my future. A yes after college to a year in China. Yes to seminary instead of following my dream to attend an elite grad school and pursue what I thought my heart wanted. A big yes to a man who wanted to serve the Lord overseas. A yes to giving up life as I knew it to going back overseas with a baby. The yesses go on. Some were small. Some were big. These days it seems life is made up with a lot of small daily yesses.
Reading Matthew 3 this morning I was struck by John the Baptist's response to Jesus' request for baptism. Me? Not me! I'm not worthy to even untie your sandal! Jesus' words settled it. But Jesus insisted. "Do it. God's work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism." So John did it. (The Message)
John said yes. He didn't see the whole picture. He just did as Christ told him to. Temporarily ahead of him was pain and suffering, but ahead of him lay Glory.
Lord, may the yesses continue. May that be the choice until the end, when I see You face to face. Yes. In the face of pain, Yes. When you ask for more, when you nudge in the depths of my heart and you ask for greater surrender, Yes. Asking for grace, Lord.
Though I was only four, I understood that I had a choice and I made the choice. For the whole year that followed, I said yes to him each night. Afraid that Jesus might leave in the night, I asked him again, and again, and again. She discovered me one night, kneeling by my bed, praying aloud. Mom quickly assured me that Jesus was with me forever and I never needed to fear again that He would leave. Mom would continue to be that voice through the years, reminding me that the Lord was still here. Faithful. Present. Close to me.
Those early memories came to me again the other day. Funny how they do. My youngest son asked me a question, one of those innocent questions that are so perfect. One of those questions that sit funny in the heart. That reminds me of the little questions that remain deep down. Why do we have so many friends that are hurting, Mommy? We were listing off the friends we needed to pray for. Seems every where we turn, each day there's at least one new email requesting prayer. Urgent prayer. I know He is still here. I know He sees each tear and hears each cry. He is not far away. But it's so hard when it hurts.
I got to thinking about my life. A life made up of small decisions to say yes to the Lord. Small yesses in my childhood, to obey, to confess, to follow the Lord, to surrender my future. A yes after college to a year in China. Yes to seminary instead of following my dream to attend an elite grad school and pursue what I thought my heart wanted. A big yes to a man who wanted to serve the Lord overseas. A yes to giving up life as I knew it to going back overseas with a baby. The yesses go on. Some were small. Some were big. These days it seems life is made up with a lot of small daily yesses.
Reading Matthew 3 this morning I was struck by John the Baptist's response to Jesus' request for baptism. Me? Not me! I'm not worthy to even untie your sandal! Jesus' words settled it. But Jesus insisted. "Do it. God's work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism." So John did it. (The Message)
John said yes. He didn't see the whole picture. He just did as Christ told him to. Temporarily ahead of him was pain and suffering, but ahead of him lay Glory.
Lord, may the yesses continue. May that be the choice until the end, when I see You face to face. Yes. In the face of pain, Yes. When you ask for more, when you nudge in the depths of my heart and you ask for greater surrender, Yes. Asking for grace, Lord.
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