Category: Worship

The Thief of Joy

7 Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. 9 I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

John 10:7-10 NIV (via biblegateway.com)

Theodore Roosevelt, 26th president of the United States, once said, “Comparison is the thief of Joy.” Comparison, envy, judgment– they have a way of sapping our joy, our energy, and our purpose, leaving us angry, deflated, and anxious. He knew a lot about the subject. Coming to the office as the result of the assassination of William McKinley, Roosevelt was the youngest man ever to hold the office of president, and it was not expected that he would be capable of fulfilling his duties. He was a blunt, restless, often hot-tempered man– not a smooth and polished statesman. There were plenty of people comparing him to McKinley and others– and finding him on the short end of the comparison! Yet Roosevelt was a man known for his optimism and joy. Even with his bluster, he was rarely seen without a smile and a positive outlook. And that optimism won people over so that he won his reelection bid in 1904, and became one of our most esteemed presidents.

Comparison can creep into all sorts of areas of our lives– we compare finances, status, “likes” on social media, looks, job status, clothes, houses, cars, even shoes! And sometimes, it impacts our prayers. I know people who won’t pray in public because their prayers “aren’t good enough.” They fear that their prayers lack eloquence; that the people listening will be disappointed or bored or even amused or disdainful. And sometimes, I’m ashamed to say, they have reason for their fears! This should never be.

But it isn’t just public prayers that we compare.

I write about prayer; I’m very open about praying, and I receive a lot of prayer requests. I’m honored and glad to be able to share in praying for others. But every once in awhile, I hear from people that they want certain people to pray for them (as opposed to other people). They seek out “prayer warriors”– people who are viewed as being “better” at prayer than others. On the surface, this seems like a wonderful thing– some people are gifted with more time or more opportunity to pray–why not celebrate their gift or promote their ability?

But what about those who are not seen as “prayer warriors?” What about those whose prayers involve months and even years of crying out in groans and tears and unfulfilled hopes? What of those learning to pray?

We can easily fall into the bad habit of comparing our prayers– our style of praying, the amount of time we spend on our knees, the stories of answered prayer and miraculous outcomes, the number of people who come to us asking for prayer… And this can rob us of the joy of spending time with God! God loves each of us for who we are. And He wants to spend time with US– not our neighbor, or the sweet lady at church who prays so beautifully.

I love communal prayer– even though I know there are people who are terrified of praying in groups. I love to hear the individual voices and styles of those who come together to cry out to God. Some are short and sweet; some are convoluted and conversational; some are anguished and passionate– but all reflect God’s heart to communicate and interact with us, and to have us draw near to Him. He never pulls away from us when we stutter or stumble, or forget someone’s name or mix up a request. He patiently listens to our rambling; He reads the deeper heart of our short outbursts– He even hears our unintelligible moans and mumblings (see Romans 8:26)! And His heart is filled with compassion, love, and inexpressible, boundless joy as He hears the sound of one of His precious sheep.

Jesus described Himself as the “Good Shepherd.” He told the religious leaders of His day that the true sheep would recognize His voice over all others. And He spoke of the “thief” who comes only to kill and steal and destroy. This “thief”– Satan– uses certain tricks to steal our joy and take our focus away from God’s love and wisdom. One of his favorites is to whisper comparisons in our ear. And if we listen to his voice, we will begin to look around instead of up; to ourselves and our words, instead of God and the Word of God. But Satan does not use the voice of our Good Shepherd. His words do not bring safety and peace–they bring doubt and discontent.

God will not urge us to comparison– He will always urge us to Communion!

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“The Lord Giveth…”

We are approaching Thanksgiving in America. Too often, Thanksgiving is lost amidst the shuffle between Halloween and Christmas. No one dresses up for Thanksgiving; no one passes out treats. There aren’t the same long-standing cultural traditions that we have with Christmas– no trees to decorate, no “Thanksgiving” cookies to make, no “Thanksgiving” elves or Santa Claus. There are turkeys, and sometimes stories about Pilgrims and Natives sharing a peaceful feast, but even that has become a sore topic. In fact, for many people, Thanksgiving is about three things– eating, watching parades on TV, and watching Football (trying to stay awake after all that food!). Some families give a nod to the spirit of Thanksgiving by going around the table and reciting the things for which they are thankful. But we rarely take the opportunity to draw attention to the Giver of all good things. We are more likely to be thankful for things we have as a result (we think) of our own hard work, wise decisions, and “good luck.” Families may travel long distances to be together, but even that is going out of fashion, as young adults often opt to spend the day with their friends or even on their own, and older adults are often “celebrating” without any family present.

I love Thanksgiving. It is one of my favorite holidays. But I think we have lost much of the spirit of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is not just about one day with lots of food spent with family or friends. Thanksgiving is really a lifestyle. The Bible is rich with thanksgiving and praise:

 “I will give to the Lord the thanks due to his righteousness, and I will sing praise to the name of the Lord, the Most High.” Psalm 7:17
“I will give thanks to you, LORD, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” Psalm 9:1
“Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.” Psalm 100:4
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” 1 Thessalonians 5:18
 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Philippians 4:6
 “And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” Colossians 3:15
 “Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name.” Hebrews 13:15

We have much to be thankful for, but when we look at the Bible verses, Thanksgiving is NOT about WHAT but about WHO. We can be thankful for good health, but we should “give thanks” to the One who gives LIFE– even when we aren’t enjoying perfect health. We can be thankful for our family, but we should really be thankful for the One who created and designed families– including our imperfect, slightly dysfunctional family.

Job learned this lesson well. He was extremely blessed– one of the richest men in all the land. He owned cattle and land, had a large family, and was highly respected. But when he lost it all, he still took time to thank God– not just for the good things He had given Job, but for who He was and is. Job acknowledged that the same God who gives is also the God who takes away– yet He is just, Holy, and awesome. He is sovereign and merciful. And, in the end, Job was restored to health, prosperity, honor, and given a new family.

Jesus was always thanking God– and not for the things we might expect! Jesus arrived in Bethany to find His friend Lazarus dead. Yet He thanked the Father. He did not thank God for “letting” Lazarus die, but He thanked Him for always hearing His prayers, including His prayer to restore Lazarus to life. Jesus thanked God for food– even though He proved that He could turn water into wine and small amounts of food into feasts! Jesus even thanked the Father for hiding His message from those who think they are wise, while revealing it to the lowly and meek. Imagine how much easier His ministry would have been if God had simply opened everyone’s heart and mind to accept that Jesus was the Messiah! But it pleased God to make Jesus’ ministry “fail” on many levels and lead to the Crucifixion. In spite of this, Jesus praised the Father for His wisdom and sovereignty.

We can be thankful to God, not just when things are going well, and we are feeling blessed, but when things are dark and chaotic, or we feel as though we have failed. We don’t ignore the grief of loss, the pain and struggles we face– but we look beyond to the God who sees, hears, heals, and makes all things new in His time. We can thank God in all circumstances, because He is GREATER than all circumstances!

This season, may we take time to contemplate– not just all the good things we have–but to dive deep into who God IS. May we say with Job, “The LORD giveth, and the LORD taketh away; Blessed be the Name of the LORD!”

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Leaning…

(Note: this is an edited and updated post from a couple of years ago.)

“What a fellowship; what a joy divine,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms…”

Bethel Church, Penn Twp., Michigan

Years ago, growing up in a small community, and attending a tiny rural church in southwestern Michigan, we sang this song often at church. As a child, I liked the tune, but had little idea what the song meant. In fact, when I was very small, before I could read, I misunderstood the lyrics– I thought the congregation was singing “wienies” on the everlasting arms. I made my grandmother laugh when she heard my interpretation! She helpfully corrected me. So I knew the basics. I knew the word fellowship– that was what we called the pot-luck meals and social times we had in the church basement. I knew that Joy was like happiness, only better. I knew that “divine” referred to God and Heaven, and Holy things. But I also knew that leaning was frowned upon– I was told to stand up straight, sit up straight, and never lean back on the two hind legs of the chair in class. How could there by fellowship, and divine joy in leaning? And what were the Everlasting Arms? It sounded like the name of a hotel. It was a long time before I began to understand the joy of leaning, or even falling into the “everlasting” arms of the Savior.

As I have lived, I have grown to understand and cherish these words. There IS a fellowship and a joy divine in learning to lean on the Everlasting Arms of Jesus; to experience the strength and peace that passes my own understanding when I trust fully in Him, instead of in my own plans, whims, dreams, or wishes. There is no shame in leaning on God– in fact, if we don’t learn to lean on the solid wisdom and faithfulness of God, we will slouch into bad habits, “fall” into false teaching, or simply collapse in our own limitations and weaknesses, much like a chair leaning on just two legs! And this fellowship is not only with my Creator, Sustainer, and Savior; it is with all the brothers and sisters around the world who have learned to trust Him, too. I can travel to foreign countries, with different languages and customs, and still feel the kinship and “belonging” with other Christians. It is deeper and more mysterious than just the recognition that we are fellow human beings. It goes even deeper than the love for others who are loved by God. It is the recognition that God’s Holy Spirit surrounds us, flows in and through us, strengthens us, and unites us IN HIM. We are fellow travelers; fellow workers; fellow members of a universal family– one that is more inclusive than nationality, race, ethnicity, language, ideology, or denomination. We can (and do) lean on the ONE who is eternally trustworthy, eternally faithful to walk beside us, empower us, comfort and heal us, and lead us home. And we can lean on each other, knowing that our mutual strength comes from Him.

I love worship services, and I’m thankful that we have an active church where people worship; where the Bible is taught and revered; where families and individuals are welcomed and loved. But I sometimes miss the old “prayer meetings” in the church where I grew up. Every Wednesday night, while the children were (supposedly quietly) playing games, singing songs, and listening to the great stories of the Bible, a faithful (and sometimes rag-tag) group of adults were upstairs in a huddle. Some pulled up chairs and sat in a circle; others knelt the whole time. They prayed for nearly an hour–prayers of thanksgiving and prayers of urgent needs; prayers expressing worship, and prayers expressing inadequacies and failures; prayers for the children downstairs, for other members of the church family; prayers for the community, the country, and the world. As I became a teenager and a young adult, I was privileged to join in. I watched wise, older men and women express their confidence in God’s provision, and pour out their hearts for their children and grandchildren. I listened to young adults asking for wisdom and guidance as they raised families and witnessed to co-workers. I felt the joy and grief and true “fellowship” that came when several hearts turned as one to God.

I have since attended many “prayer meetings”– some planned, some spur-of-the-moment; some held in churches; others held in homes or dorm rooms, even on street corners or grocery stores; some lasting only a few minutes; others lasting hours. I am blessed to be able to attend a weekly “prayer meeting” on Wednesday mornings at my local church. There is something mystical about communal prayer– listening and sharing in prayer with others. The prayers of God’s people are compared to incense– and communal prayer is like a delicately-balanced blend of fragrances, infusing the very room with blessing, and even a touch of Glory. (For more about how prayer is likened to incense, see https://the-end-time.org/2017/06/13/how-is-incense-like-prayer/) It is yet another miracle of the power of prayer, that we can combine hearts and voices to honor God; to lift up very human concerns to the One powerful enough to hold each one in the palm of His hand. It should not replace personal prayer and Bible Study, or communal worship services, but it is a wonderful practice for any Christian to “come alongside” in prayer with fellow believers. It is also humbling to think about how such a seemingly small act can have far-reaching consequences.

God “inhabits” the praises of His people (Psalm 22:3). When we show up and participate in communal worship and prayer, we get a greater sense of God’s presence, His power, His Glory, His Love, and His eternal purpose. What a Fellowship! What a Joy, Divine!

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The Power of “Thank You”

It happened that as he made his way toward Jerusalem, he crossed over the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten men, all lepers, met him. They kept their distance but raised their voices, calling out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” Taking a good look at them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.”They went, and while still on their way, became clean. One of them, when he realized that he was healed, turned around and came back, shouting his gratitude, glorifying God. He kneeled at Jesus’ feet, so grateful. He couldn’t thank him enough—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus said, “Were not ten healed? Where are the nine? Can none be found to come back and give glory to God except this outsider?” Then he said to him, “Get up. On your way. Your faith has healed and saved you.”

Luke 17:11-19 (The Message)

Have you ever been thanked for doing your job? I don’t mean praised or tipped or even promoted…have you ever had someone look you in the eye and thank you for a job you did? Not because they had to, or because it was expected–not because they were trying to flatter you– but because they were genuinely grateful? It is a powerful, humbling, and even startling experience. I can count in the fingers of both hands the number of times I have been genuinely and personally thanked for things I did in the course of various jobs. Such expressions have come from unexpected sources, and have made lasting impressions.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Our culture has been one of polite gratitude– I grew up being reminded to thank salespeople, waitresses, bellhops, bank tellers, gas pump attendants (yes, I’m THAT old!), ushers, and anyone who held a door, or provided a small service. We’ve lost a lot of that– we EXPECT good service (some of us expect even more than that) and are more prone to complain if we don’t get it. And, in the age of self-service and entitlement culture, we are less likely to receive the kind of good service I remember as a child. The end result is a lot of complaining and resentment. But even “good manners” is not the same as genuine, heart-felt gratitude. Someone can say all the right words and still leave you feeling drained and even hurt. Someone can leave a huge tip after being beastly–you still remember the abuse. And someone can be grateful but leave you unsure if they even noticed your effort.

The Gospel of Luke tells a story that illustrates this well. Jesus, while traveling through the region between Galilee and Samaria, comes to a village with ten lepers. Keeping their distance, but wanting to catch Jesus’s attention, they shout out and ask for a miraculous and merciful healing. Jesus takes pity on them. He doesn’t shun them, but He doesn’t make a big fuss, either. He simply sends them on their way to show themselves to the local priest and be declared healed. It is after they leave that they realize they are indeed clean! Nine if the men continue on, grateful (we assume) and overjoyed. But one man makes the decision to turn around and thank Jesus face-to-face. He shouts and glorifies God and thanks Jesus repeatedly. And he was a Samaritan–an outsider; a rogue Jew–the type of person who wouldn’t be expected to show “good manners” to a Jewish teacher. Jesus points out to His disciples that there were ten men who were healed, and only one who came back to show his gratitude. He then speaks directly to the healed man, and assures him that his faith has both healed him and saved him.

This story does not go on to tell us whether or not the ten men offered the “appropriate” thank offerings that were set up in the Laws of Moses. It does not mention whether or not these men spoke of their healing or their gratitude among their friends and neighbors. We should not assume that the nine others were ungrateful in any way. Yet Jesus calls attention to the tenth man. Not because he was more important than the others, or felt more gratitude than the others, but because he took the effort to show it in person. It didn’t cost him any money or a lot of extra time, but it made an eternal impression that was recorded for us to learn from centuries later.

What a small thing, to say “thank you” for a helping hand, or friendly advice, or good service. It doesn’t require a costly demonstration, or empty flattery. Just a simple, direct, and heart-felt expression of gratitude. But what a powerful gesture. One so powerful, even Jesus was moved to stop and comment on it. Think how much good we could do if we took the extra moment to say, “thank you” to someone today? Think how much we have to be thankful for!

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Heavenly Father, THANK YOU for all that You do and have done; for all that You ARE! Thank you for those who do good, who show kindness, and who give their time and effort in service. May we be truly grateful, and quick to show our gratitude today. Amen.

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Where Grief Meets Hope

We lost a family member a couple of weeks ago. We were shocked and heartbroken to hear of his loss. To know that we will never get to hear his laughter or watch his eyes crinkle up over a good joke; never hear him enthuse over history or a great movie; never enjoy the fellowship of being in the same room together again. He never got to retire from his job; never got to walk his daughters down the aisle; never got to enjoy the house he and my sister-in-law planned to build.

BUT

Chris had a wonderful life in many ways. He and his wife have three amazing adult children. He got to enjoy plenty of days loving nature and enjoying a good sunset over Lake Michigan. He harvested many morels each spring. He made music. He helped hundreds of people in hundreds of little ways. He was blessed.

We went to Chris’s funeral last weekend. We helped celebrate his life– his accomplishments and achievements, his vivid personality, his sense of humor– and we celebrated his Faith. Yes, there were tears at the funeral. We will miss Chris in the years to come. But we share his faith and his great hope. We will miss him temporarily. We will grieve for a few years. And then, we will experience a joy that will make us forget the grief! Not only will we see Chris again– to laugh together and share stories and songs– we will be in the presence of our source of Life, and Hope, Joy and Peace! We will be surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses as we live eternally with the One who loves us best!

Many years ago, another man died. There was grief, stunned disbelief, and terror. The family, friends, and followers of Jesus Christ mourned. They hid. Their world was dark with despair and anguish. All these years later, we look at paintings and sculptures of Jesus suffering on the cross. But, while we shudder at the horror of all He suffered, we do not look on such pictures with fear or despair. The Cross is not a symbol of Death’s ultimate victory, but rather its ultimate defeat. Jesus didn’t stay dead. His body was buried, but He did not stay there. We celebrate, not the horrors of the Cross, but the limits of its power to steal our joy.

This is where grief meets hope. It is where the past is overwhelmed by the promise of Eternity. Christians grieve– of course we do. We love life, and we grieve to see it end. We love being with friends and family– we feel an emptiness and an ache when someone we love is “missing.” But we do NOT grieve without hope. We acknowledge the brief sting of loss. But Death loses its sting in the light of Christ’s victory. There is no lasting victory in the grave. Our time is short; we are powerless to stop death from taking us; from taking our loved ones. But Eternity beckons! Even our time on earth gives us daily reminders– the sun rises each morning; spring comes after each winter; children grow into parents, and we get to love another generation.

Even when life is hard; when grief looms large and hope seems dim– hope does not disappoint! Because Christ LIVES!

Chris was buried earlier this week– his body was buried– but he LIVES. He is healed and freed of all the pains and frustrations of this earthly life, and because of Christ’s gift of Grace and Redemption, Chris is living all that he once hoped for. Because of Christ’s great gift, many of us will someday join him in singing God’s praises, in laughter, delight, and endless joy!

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The Intimate, Unknowable, God

Prayer is an exercise in juxtaposition–we seek to have intimate conversation with a mysterious and unknowable God. He INVITES us into this mystery. He pursues us, seeks us out, surrounds us with His Presence, yet He hides His face from us and shrouds Himself in light and cloud.

God is Spirit– He is Eternal, Omnipresent, and Invisible. Yet He chooses to reveal Himself– in the beauty of Nature, in the smile of a stranger, in His revealed Word, and through His Son. Everything we need, we can find in and through Him, yet we cannot say that we comprehend Him, because He is so far above and beyond anything we can imagine.

Prayer is a humbling experience– to approach the Throne of the One who holds the Universe in the palm of His hand; but it is also an intimate and very personal experience– to run into the arms of the One who knit us together and knows the very hairs on our head (or lack thereof!).

After a lifetime of praying and pursuing prayer, I still marvel at the complexity, majesty, mystery, and fragility of prayer. That God should desire to listen to me–whimpering, questioning, confessing, and even offering my best and inadequate praise– it astounds me. And yet it also sustains me, strengthens me, and stimulates me. This same God who holds the stars and planets inhabits the tiniest of atoms in the air I breathe. The same God who ordered the first sunrise, and has watched empires rise and fall, cares when I shed a tear and rejoices when I laugh. God who is perfect, has mercy on me when I confess my pettiness and offers forgiveness when I throw tantrums. The same God who bore the pain and agony of betrayal and crucifixion promises eternal life to those who have rejected Him– if only they will listen, turn, and follow Him.

Today, let the awe of Who God IS– both sovereign, unknowable, and mysterious, AND intimate, loving, and gracious–wash over you as you enter into prayer.

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Childlike or Childish?

This is the week of our local County Fair. People around here are pretty excited. The exhibits, the rides, the animals, the events and attractions, the food, the games…there is a little something for everyone. I love watching the faces of the children– their wonder and excitement is contagious as they see the various farm animals, or ride the Merry-Go-Round, or discover the joys of Cotton Candy and Elephant Ears.

I grew up with the County Fair– not just as a visitor, but as a participant. And I am encouraged to see a new generation showing animals, exhibiting craft projects, learning new skills, and having fun. Some of them will return as 4-H parents; some to work as judges or to volunteer at a booth for local churches, clubs or businesses ; some to visit from out of town with their own children and grandchildren. There is something about a County Fair that is simple and pure–something that can inspire childlike wonder, even in adults.

Childlikeness is something we are called to by Christ. He loved children, and He told His disciples that if they wanted to be part of God’s Kingdom, they would have to become like little children (See Matthew 18:2-4). We are to pray to Our Father, having childlike faith in His good will and His promise to hear us. Childlike faith is not “blind” faith. Children are often frightened by the big animals or loud noises at the Fair. And they tend, (especially small children) to want to hold hands or stay close to those they know. But they also want to see and experience “everything”– because they trust that their parents and the Fair organizers will not put them in jeopardy. A childlike attitude and trust in God brings us the kind of joy and peace we see in children as they discover, rejoice, explore, and enjoy life– especially during Fair week.

This is not to be confused with childishness. While Jesus encouraged His disciples to have childlike faith, He reminded them that the “children of Israel” had often behaved with childish disobedience and complaining. God is a loving Father. He wants children who follow Him out of love, and who trust Him completely. But He will also lovingly discipline those who have developed a childish rebellious streak. I didn’t see much childishness at last year’s fair, but when I did, it was not exhibited by children, but by those who consider themselves adults. Tantrums, selfish demands, complaining about the weather or the crowds or the noise… While the children at the fair were gracious “winners” and “losers” at the shows, patient and content (for the most part) as they waited for rides or food, some of the adults were grouchy, whine-y, and difficult to please. I’m sure I missed a couple of epic meltdowns by toddlers, and some tears from a few exhibitors, but most of the children were just thrilled to be able to go to the Fair again.

It is easy to recognize and call out childish behavior in others. Obnoxious, foolish, self-centered, unreasonable– those are just some of the adjectives such behavior warrants. A childlike attitude is also easy to recognize– eager, grateful, joyful, hopeful, teachable, honest and open, loving and caring. Oddly, I know several adults who sneer at childlike behavior, even as they exhibit childish behaviors. They brag about their very “adult” approach– cynical, “realistic,” confident, “tough,” clever, independent, and self-sufficient. But they are stressed, angry, bored, distrustful, lonely, and sad. Our loving Father wants so much better for us! Being with childish people is tiring and depressing; being around childlike people is refreshing, joyful, and encouraging!

I’ve been thinking this week about my own attitude. The County Fair will come and go this year, but each day comes with wonders and struggles, competitions, waiting in lines, and dealing with crowds. Do I face them with an attitude that is childlike or childish? Do I trust God to be with me when I go through new experiences, even if they are a bit daunting? Or do I complain and demand my own way, expecting to “win” every game or competition, dragging myself and others through stress and tears? Father, help me to see Your world through childlike eyes of wonder and gratitude. Help me to see others with the love and joy You alone can inspire.

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What Peace We Often Forfeit

*Note: This was a post from a couple of years ago, but I thought it was worth posting again, as this past week has also been somewhat hectic…

This has not been a “peaceful” week– unexpected changes of plans, setbacks, last-minute opportunities–even the good things have not been restful or without some stress. I’m writing this mere hours before it’s supposed to be published. It’s getting close to midnight, and I’m exhausted. I’ve had writer’s block, and decided to look through an old hymn book for inspiration.

Happening upon an old favorite, I was ready to turn the page– I’ve already used this hymn for inspiration before. But one line caught my eye in a new way:
“O, what peace we often forfeit,
O, what needless pain we bear
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer!”
I’ve sung this hymn dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, and I always focus on the last phrases. I know so well the “needless pain” of not praying. I also know the restlessness and stress of “going it alone” and not seeking God first. But I was struck anew by the phrasing.

Most of us would say that we are seeking peace, not asking for stress or anxiety or worry. We would say that we finally find peace when we pray. But how many of us are aware that we already HAVE peace, and we are losing it or even giving it away when we don’t pray?

What a friend we HAVE in Jesus
All our sins and griefs to bear
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer
Jesus has already promised us PEACE–“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 ESV) ; “do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 ESV)

Prayer doesn’t just help us find peace, it keeps us from losing peace.

I found that to be true this week–even with the surprises and last-minute changes, I have felt a peace that I can’t explain through ordinary means. It isn’t anything I’ve done differently, or anything about my circumstances. It comes from taking everything to God in prayer. I didn’t have to “find” peace– I never lost it!

What a wonderful privilege!
(And, by the way, the writer’s block I was experiencing evaporated as soon as I refocused on taking it “to the Lord in prayer!”) It is still before midnight, and I will sleep in peace.

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Remember..

I love flipping through old photo albums. I’m reminded of special times and special people. Sometimes, the memories make me a little sad, as I see familiar faces of those who have passed away, or times of struggle or stress. But most of the time, memories fill my heart with gladness and comfort, strength and resolve.

I’ve been reading through the Psalms lately, and many of them speak of remembering. When God’s people faced struggles, they were told to remember the great stories of the past– the plagues of Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea, the conquest of the Promised Land, and many other times when God gave miraculous provision, restoration, and victory. These songs were not just a matter of recapturing the “glory days” of old– they were part of God’s command to remember and pass along God’s deeds and His laws to each new generation.

In the Psalms, we are also encouraged to remember our own past actions– both righteous and rebellious– and God’s faithfulness in spite of our failures. We are to remember God’s correction and discipline; God’s forgiveness, and His Mercy– not just in our own lives, but over many generations and throughout the years.

God instituted festivals, and rites, and Holy Days of remembrance– special times set aside for remembrance and meditation, because it is important to Him that we never lose our focus. We can get so wrapped up in the present (or worrying about the future) that we forget God’s timeless and eternal nature.

Even Jesus, before He went to Calvary, instituted a new rite of remembrance– Communion– in which He called His disciples to “do this in remembrance of me.”

Today, I want to pray a prayer of remembrance. I want to spend time in worship and gratitude for who God IS, but also for who He always HAS BEEN.
Thank you for your eternal faithfulness, and for your eternal plan of Salvation. Thank you for the ways you have provided in my life, in the lives of those who came before, and in the lives of generations of faithful saints. May I remember your Great Love and Power as I face uncertainties in the day ahead. May the remembrance of you lead me to trust you completely, follow you boldly, and share you with those I meet.

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Praying From the Basement

I grew up in a rambling, pre-1860s farmhouse in rural southwestern Michigan. We had a “Michigan basement”,” “– unfinished dirt floors, walls made of fieldstone and rocks, crudely cemented together, exposed floorboards and joists from the ground floor providing a ceiling. A rickety wooden stairway ended in a small cemented landing. It was a haven for dust and cobwebs, and everything in the basement had a grimy film of dust mixed with the residue of an old oil-burning furnace. It was littered with “dead” things– a rusted-out bicycle frame from the 1940s; a long-forgotten set of rattan patio furniture with mildewed pads and broken wicker bits sticking out underneath; a broken rake; and, in one corner, what looked like the skeleton of a small rodent. There was an old cabinet, formerly with two doors, now standing with one door hanging askew, and the other one missing all but half a hinge piece. Inside were old Mason jars, rimmed with lime deposits, holding nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and other odds and ends, and more Mason jars holding home-canned tomatoes from a garden of unknown vintage. There was a single 40-watt incandescent light bulb screwed into an ancient ceramic socket and mounted on one of the overhead floorboards, which did little to diminish the general sense of gloom and decay. There were four small windows–but they had long ago succumbed to grime and dirt from inside and out. It was the stuff of childhood nightmares.

Last week, we had a tornado warning, and one of my friends from church spoke of taking her children to the basement to wait out the weather. It reminded me of my own mother, gathering my sister and I– sometimes pulling us from our beds– and taking us to shelter in the basement until a storm had passed. My father often worked the night shift, and so the job was left to Mom to herd us into the southwest corner of the basement, being sure to bring a blanket and a flashlight, and make sure we were wearing slippers or shoes. She also had an old portable AM/FM radio, so we could listen to the weather bulletins amidst the gloom and dust and damp of the basement.

And yet–

My memories of going to the basement during a storm are not memories that inspire terror or disgust. I never wanted to visit the basement any other time, but during a storm, it was our “safe” place. The winds and rain and hail might rage outside, but we were warm and snug (sometimes too warm!) in our little corner. And no matter how frightened my mom may have been, she always reassured us that we would be safe together in that place. And then, she would lead us in prayer. We prayed that Dad would be safe at work. We prayed for anyone who was in the path of the storm. We prayed that God would protect our house. We prayed for those who were on the road, and for those who would have to go out after the storm to fix electric lines or rescue others. And we thanked God for our basement!

Sometimes, God uses grubby basements to be our “safe” place. What otherwise may seem like a scary situation can become a cause for praise and celebration when we remember that God is with us!

I think of the prophet Jeremiah, who was arrested and thrown into a cistern–a place far worse than our basement– but God caused him to be rescued (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah%2038&version=NIV). He went from the mud-filled cistern to the palace of the King! And even though Jeremiah faced many other trials and griefs, Jeremiah was able to write: “

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”
(Lamentations 3:19-24 NIV)

And I think of Paul and Silas in prison in Philippi (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2016:16-34&version=ESV ). They sang and prayed after having been beaten and unfairly arrested. And they were trapped in the prison when an earthquake hit! But the end result was not only their vindication and freedom, but salvation for the Philippian jailor and his family!

There are seasons when we are forced to go to the basement–literally and figuratively. There are times when we must sit and wait in the dark and damp, uncertain of where the storm will hit or how long it will last. But often, in those basement moments, we find ourselves closer to God than when we climb mountains! God sits with us in the gloom. God has the power to turn our fear and uncertainty into praise and worship. And God will bring those memories of His comfort and strength back to us in other times of trouble.

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