Tools for the Task at Hand

Been thinking about King David lately. He had no business defeating Goliath, especially with only a slingshot and a few rocks from a stream. Likewise, Queen Esther had no reason to expect she wouldn't receive a death sentence for speaking out of turn to her husband, the king, let alone confronting him at a banquet.

While I'm at it, I'm pondering the colonists' gutsy stand during the American Revolution, which they didn't have a prayer (well, clearly, they had a prayer) of winning. And let's not forget the Abolitionists who harbored slaves during the Civil War era, and brave souls like Corrie ten Boom and Irena Sendler, who put their lives on the line to rescue Jews during WWII.

I've often wondered how I'd cope with such life and death choices. Would I put myself in harm's way for the greater good, or wimp out like I've done so many times before?

The conclusion I've come to is, I'll never know. I wasn't asked to slay a Philistine giant or rescue God's chosen people from annihilation. I haven't been called upon to shepherd runaway slaves through the Underground Railroad. But God has seen fit lately to send certain challenges my way. I feel small and shaky, as I suspect the aforementioned activists did when they considered their options. I don't have a pebble shooter or a hidden compartment in my house, but I do have a voice and a pen. More than that, I have God Almighty walking beside me and living within me.

I have everything I need for the task at hand.

Through

Last Friday I had the opportunity to attend our school's Save a Heart event. This is a fundraiser to support heart disease research, and it's very popular with the kids. They get to have a whole afternoon off after a long week of standardized testing, and participate in a plethora of relay games requiring teamwork and not a little strategizing. They love it.

I found several of the activities intriguing. Stonehenge, for example, requires each student to select a tall wooden block and build a sort of pi-shaped (yes, I do mean pi, as in the Greek letter) sculpture, one piece at a time, based on their recollection of a model they viewed briefly before beginning the exercise. One misplaced block can topple the whole structure, so they have to correct each other's mistakes before placing their piece. If the unthinkable happens and it gets knocked down, they have to begin the process from scratch, thus putting them in last place.

As you can imagine, the larger the sculpture becomes, the greater the pressure on the individual block layer not to upset the proverbial apple cart. I watched in fascination at the kids' concentration as they worked out problems and tried not to be the "fall guy." I imagined how stressful it must be for them to have all their peers and teachers watching their progress, and to realize that their teammates were relying on them for the win. I thought of how tempting it would be to turn tail and run rather than stick it out; how disheartening it was to be the reason for the team's failure. And yet, these little sixth graders plugged away till the last block was laid, for better or for worse, and not one dissolved into tears when things didn't go as planned.

Another activity that caught my attention was Thread the Needle. This title is deceptively simple. The goal here is to build a free-standing hula hoop sculpture as a team, after which each student must pass through without tumbling it. Success is iffy at best, but the beauty of the process is that, when one student has the misfortune of ruining the structure, the others immediately rally to his aid and quickly rebuild, enabling their teammate to take another stab at the prize. I was agog at the cooperation and perseverance shown by these pre-teens.

River Raft Relay is another team challenge. Here there are two "rafts," AKA gym mats, laid out next to each other. The object is for half a dozen or so kids to tiptoe one at a time off one and onto the other, after which the last "passenger" passes the rear raft to his teammates till it becomes the one in front. They have to repeat this process until the whole team makes it across the gym, gingerly squeezing too many 12-year-olds onto a mat the size of a pavement slab. The game requires stealth and patience, two things we don't normally equate with pre-adolescents.

Happy Gilmore is perhaps the most remarkable, as it more or less combines all the aforementioned skills into one activity. Each student receives a half piece of PVC pipe, onto which a golf ball is set. The aim is for one student to pass the ball to the next, via the pipe, without letting it drop. The trick is to make the swap quickly but cautiously, so the sender can run back and hand off the pipe to his waiting teammate, who then relieves the current holder of the golf ball. Too fast leads to disaster; the ball drops and they have to start over. Too slow leaves the holder hanging out to dry, as he struggles to balance the tipping ball with no one to pass off to. It is a game of precision and skill, camraderie and self-control. It's also an exercise in tenacity, as too often the swaying ball wins out over the tottering sixth grader, and the team is forced to start all over again.


What all these relay games have in common is, there are no shortcuts. The players' only hope of victory is to follow directions to the letter, staying the course despite frustration and setbacks. Defeat is only one misstep away.

Sometimes the only way to go is through.

Evolving Clay

Been thinking about clay. My neighbor Anita loves the stuff. She can't seem to get enough of mushing her hands around in the sticky goop that miraculously ends up as colorful works of art. She scoops and kneads and molds and even recycles big, muddy blobs into rich pottery. I can never believe my eyes when I watch her fashion those gummy hunks into beautiful tableware that add grace and elegance to any home.

Then I look at myself and the people I love, and I notice something remarkable. We're all clumps of clay at some point along the Potter's continuum. Some of us appear mighty unfinished, but we're coming right along. We may not be ready to be served up at a state dinner, but we're pretty functional in our own right. Others among us look the part, but upon closer inspection, are found to have flaws and weaknesses that limit our usefulness as serving vessels. Despite our varied appearances, we all have one thing in common: we're fragile. In fact, when you get right down to it, we're nothing but dust that's been shored up by a strong hand  and steady fingers. As long as we keep our connection to that able Potter, He can and will mend any cracks that come along.

Hadn't we best be patient with our fellow vessels - and ourselves - as we limp along the journey toward wholeness?


Check out Fingerprints of God by Steven Curtis Chapman

Overcoming Inertia, AKA, Getting Off my Butt

Avoidance. I do it well. My kids have been suggesting lately that I get out and do more things, to which I respond that I like being home with them, and am more than ready to just crash on Friday nights after working all week.

So it was with a giant pry bar that I disengaged myself from the couch to go to my church's retreat this past weekend. I delayed packing. I gave myself an escape clause. And I fretted.

"I don't know many people. What's it going to be like spending a whole weekend with them?"

 I feel like I have new sisters now.

"Will the bunks be comfortable?"

 I won the toss for the only bed in the room.

"Will the speaker have anything valuable to say?"

Donna Ebert's talks on the spiritual disciplines of prayer, Scripture-reading, solitude and Sabbath rest were uplifting and challenging.

"And what about this yoga piece they're offering? I like the exercises, but how will I handle it if things become New-Agey?"

They didn't; Mindy Marcozzi-Drake of Agape Health and Yoga did an awesome job of keeping it God-centered.

"Will I keep my roommates awake by snoring?"

I stopped short of tossing earplugs into my luggage to spare my bunk mates, but not before scavenging through the linen closet for a pair.

All my fears were unfounded. I had a Spirit-filling, heart-expanding, body-nurturing, rockin' good time.

Guess it's good to get off the couch now and then...

Husbands and Wives in the Image of Christ and the Church

I've been reading Tim Keller's The Prodigal God, a fine book with some excellent points about the well-known prodigal son parable. In today's reading, I was struck with a lightning bolt about a section of Scripture I've read dozens of times, Ephesians 5. Keller introduced the passage by explaining that marriage at the time Paul wrote the epistle to Ephesus was often about the money and position a wife could bring to her husband. Sex outside of marriage was apparently commonplace, so wives couldn't necessarily count on being the only recipients of their husbands' affections.

At times, I have found myself justifying the sticking point about wifely submission that many get hung up on. I always explain patiently that Paul charges the husband with loving his wife in a Christ-like fashion, commensurate with the care he takes of his own body, thus making submission a joyful and non-threatening thing for wives to do.

Two things never dawned on me. One, Paul promises husbands a reward for their tender care of their wives. He has the confidence to assert that wifely beauty will result from husbands' sacrificial love. I'm not convinced an ugly duckling would be magically transformed into a glorious swan, but I suspect he means love and adoration have the capacity to bestow attractiveness on the object of admiration. These insights put the whole chapter into a revelatory new light for me.

Secondly, 30 out of the 33 verses in chapter 5 of Ephesians admonish husbands on how to behave in marriage. Verses 3-15 contain directives about pure living in general, and sexual morality in particular. Verse 18 urges them not to get drunk; verse 21 tells spouses to submit to one another. Paul's last verse clinches his point, driving home the message of men loving their wives in the same way they love themselves (lest any arrogant Ephesians should interpret his words as license to lord it over submissive wives). In short, he seems to spend an inordinate amount of time advising husbands to earn their wives' trust. Then, almost as an afterthought, he reminds wives to respect their husbands.

I came away agape at the intensity with which Paul argues his case for defenseless women who, at that point in history, were essentially the property of their husbands. His instructions to wives seem sensible and reasonable, when considered in the context of Paul's weighty advice to their husbands.

Just thought I'd share the wealth.

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Babies, Big and Small

Morsels for Meditation...: Seasons

Love and Latkes (with thanks to Malka Drucker, whose book "Grandma's Latkes" and the recipe therein, were the basis of our feast)

Today our neighbor Anita, who holds a special place in our hearts, gave us the most wonderful gift.

She let us cook for her.

She said - and I believe her - that she adored every bite.

Anita truly is a gourmet cook, and our family has had more than its share of incredible meals at her table. We have feasted on Peking duck wrapped in homemade crepe pancakes, shrimp in cream sauce, hot out of the oven cakes and pastries (from scratch, naturally) with frosting that's to die for...

Let me stop before I open the fridge and expand my waistline even more than it's already grown during this holiday season.

The problem with cooking for someone with such expertise is obvious. How can one with minimal talent in the kitchen hope to please the palate of a connoisseur?

Still, for Anita's holiday gift, my boys set out to make potato latkes for her. My son's dear friend, whom I affectionately refer to as "third son," joined in with gusto, and before we knew it, we had an assembly line of grating and mincing and mixing and frying that blended the aromas of onions, oil and, of course, potatoes into what I'm convinced love smells like.

The best part was how Anita gobbled them up. My culinary friend has a veritable cornucopia of tactful ways to decline seconds, ranging from "it's delicious, but I just ate," to "thank you, but I just can't afford the calories." None of these polite refusals was uttered or even hinted at today. Anita ventured forth calorically, eschewing common sense, and for once joined in our family's habitual piggery. She declared our little pancakes the best ever and, along with the rest of us, indulged freely (sans utensils - commonplace for me and my tribe but, under ordinary circumstances, unthinkable for her), standing up, clutching steamy, starchy cakes with oil-fingered abandon.

It was a gluttonous love fest.

I told Anita that her genuine enthusiasm for the boys' labor of love (she would have choked one down for the kids' sake, because that's the way she is, even if they had emerged gummy and inedible) was a true gift to all of us. Every one of us felt sheer delight at her sheer delight.

I can't think of a better way to start out the new year.

Low Branches

A friend of mine had two elf-sized helpers over to decorate her Christmas tree the other day. The thing that was so cute about it, she smiled recollecting, was that they were too tiny to reach anything but the lowest branches. Consequently, the ornamentation is somewhat (no, very) unbalanced; but the little girls took great delight in their handiwork, such as it was, because from their vantage point, it looked colorful and glittery and perfect.

I smiled as I listened to this story. Long ago, I hung a plaque on my bedroom wall which said simply, "Reach up as far as you can, and God will reach down to you" (author unknown). The apostle James said it this way: "Draw near to God and He will draw near to you." (James 4:8).

What a Savior.

Called Off the Bench

It's nice, and fits securely into our comfort zone, when we get to set our own agendas. Pursuing a career path; responding to a marriage proposal; even planning a family — all are situations which, as Christians, we can say "yes" or "no" to, calling on almighty counsel to guide our choices.

But there are other times when the Coach chooses us. Times when we are called upon to stand for or against something, and when we get right down to it, there's really only one right choice to be made.

Esther realized this. So did David. Jonah figured it out at crunch time, but better late than never.

Elisha asked God for a double portion of His Spirit (2 Kings 2:9-15) so he could pick up where Elijah left off. As I continue to "do the next right thing" in the current arduous task He has assigned me, I'm putting in a request for a double portion of His heavenly mind. I need to be able to think clearly under pressure, on my feet as it were, things which don't come easily to me.

And I need to remember that the players on the other team are made in God's image too, and He ultimately gets to decide who wins the game.

Winston Churchill summed it up nicely: "A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality."

He put his money where his mouth was, and stood up to Hitler. 

Now that it's my turn to come off the bench, can I do any less?

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Fear That Said Its Prayers

Morsels for Meditation...: Obedience vs. Outcome

Fear That Said Its Prayers

When Dorothy Bernard said, "Courage is fear that has said its prayers," she must have been thinking of me. I'm not a wave maker, a rule breaker, or a boat rocker. But I do stand up for myself when I have to. More importantly, I like to think I stand up for the underdog, even if it costs me.

Last week I blogged about a faith challenge that I'm in the middle of. So far this has involved having some uncomfortable discussions (for these I drew on the advice of an old friend who once promised God that she would place a difficult phone call, but He would have to do the talking), as well as many hours of thought and prayer. I'm not sure what else this trial will entail, but in less than a week, God has provided ample resources for the task at hand.

My prayer partner, Tina, and I were looking at some Scripture that speaks to this situation. In 2 Kings 6:15-17, Elisha's servant succumbs to fear when he surveys the vast army possessed by Israel's enemies. He cries out in desperation, "Alas, my master! What shall we do?"

To which Elisha replies, "Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them."

The servant's eyes are then opened to see multitudes of horses and chariots of fire surrounding the two
men of God.

Just a little glimpse of His heavenly arsenal.

For more like this, check out:

Morsels for Meditation...: Obedience vs. Outcome

Morsels for Meditation...: Called Off the Bench

Obedience vs. Outcome, AKA, Knotted Up

There seems to be some dispute as to who wrote the following prayer, commonly known as The Serenity Prayer, but several sources I checked credit the 20th Century pastor, Reinhold Niebuhr, with penning it in the 1940s:

Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

My prayer partner, Tina, and I were discussing this heavenly appeal today in connection with a faith challenge I'm working through. This particular matter is of no small significance, and has me somewhat knotted up when I let myself think about it. Tina is a good listener and an excellent adviser, and she reminded me of this simple prayer as I kvetched about my problem. She also compared worrying to sitting in a rocking chair, i.e., using up lots of energy to get absolutely nowhere.

After Tina and I had finished praying over my "Goliath," the phone rang again. This time it was another friend with a Philistine giant of her own. I told her I really had no advice to offer (this being a legal and family matter), but pointed her to the One who does. We began reading and praying through various passages of Scripture that pertain to difficulties and threatening situations. Together we looked at 1 Corinthians 10:13, in which God promises not to give us more than we can bear; the story of Gideon, detailing the Israelites' victory over oppressors using a small squadron of men, torches, and clay jars; and the account of King Jehoshophat, where God's people were told simply to suit up and show up for battle, and God would do the rest. 

We also considered Isaiah 55:8: "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" This reminded us that, as uncomfortable as life's curve balls may be, our Creator has a plan and we're not always privy to it. We're responsible for obedience, not outcome.

So I'm taking trembling steps toward resolution, knowing I'm walking in angelic and almighty company. It's also helping to recall past situations that have been gut-wrenching, muscle-building, and soul-stretching. I was pleasantly surprised to remember having survived several dozen slippery, unpleasant trials with hard-headed adversaries, only to come out stronger by the grace of God.

Why should this one be any different?

Check out Chris Tomlin's Whom Shall I Fear

For more like this, check out: 
Morsels for Meditation...: Fear That Said Its Prayers       Morsels for Meditation...: Called Off the Bench