WORD OF GOD, SPEAK

Last week I attended what might be my last retreat at Tuscarora Inn in Pennsylvania.  My sister in law Jan and I were racking our brains trying to figure out how many years we’ve been going to that retreat.  We think we may have started in the late 1990s, missing just a couple of weeks over the years because of graduations or weddings.  The retreat is so special to me, especially coming as it does after a busy year of ministry, that I’m having a hard time imagining my life without it.

This year I had one of those, “what was I thinking” moments, when Jim and I flew home from more than two weeks in Florida on the afternoon of the retreat!  Our daughter picked us up and when I got home, I ran inside, dropped my suitcase, threw some things into a smaller bag and drove the hour and a half to the retreat site.  I missed dinner, but arrived just in time for the first teaching session, a little more tired than usual, but so glad to be there.

I just love greeting women from other churches that I have come to know in my years of coming.  They come from all over northern New Jersey and we only see one another this one time a year, so the reunions are very sweet! 

This year’s speaker focused that Friday evening session on the importance of retreating – FROM our busy lives, TO the Lord and His Word, so that He might speak to us and reveal Himself while we’re there.  As we talked at meals the next day, busy lives and neglect of God’s Word were the topic of table conversation.  Jobs, kids, the day to day tasks that fall to us women, plus the things we allow to distract us, like TV, friendships and even good books all conspire to keep us too busy for God’s Word.

I wish I could say that being too busy was my reason for neglecting God’s Word, but I’m retired!  I’m involved in a volunteer capacity in a few different things but they hardly keep me too busy.  Yet, I’m as guilty of neglecting time in God’s Word as the busiest woman.  Why, when I know it is the means to intimacy with God that He has made available to me?  Sometimes I’m just lazy.  Far too often I’m more engaged with my computer, which has become both a blessing and curse.  I think, “I’ll get to my Bible right after I check my e mail and Facebook”, but mostly I never do.

I read a book this spring about the inventor Marconi who spent years trying to find a way to lengthen the distance over which Morse coded messages could be sent.  In the course of his experimentation with higher transmission towers and greater distances, he experienced failure after failure as messages were transmitted, but could not be received.  So often, that’s how it is with me.  The trouble is not that the Lord isn’t transmitting the messages I need to hear from His Word – I’m just not receiving them because my distance from Him is preventing me from hearing His voice. It’s true what I’ve heard, if the Lord seems distant and we’re having trouble hearing Him, it’s not because HE’S moved. 

At various times over the years I’ve collected rocks at Tuscarora and written on them the thoughts the Lord impressed upon my heart, through the speakers and through His Word.  He has a theme going.  Here are some of the things I’ve written:

2008 Stay in the game

2009 Don’t let your computer crowd out worship

2010 Jesus first – before other people, before your computer!

2011 Jesus: Come away with me!

2015 Worship Jesus

So once again I have been reminded of the critical importance of being in God’s Word, of staying close, so that what He wants to say to me comes through loud and clear. 

I’m grateful for this time, as we prepare to move to Florida, when ministries must be brought to a close, that there is very little now to keep me so busy that I neglect God’s Word. 

There is a song I’ve heard on Christian radio with a phrase that says: “Word of God speak. . .”  The desire of my heart is this response: “Your servant is listening”.

GIVING THANKS FOR WHAT I SEE

When you are a believer in Jesus you find yourself with a burning desire for those you love to know Him.  You want to know that when their lives come to an end, they’re going to be in heaven too.  But there is so much more to knowing Jesus that lies in store NOW for those who trust Him that you want them to know as well.

You want them to know the joy of simply KNOWING Jesus in all His fullness.  He is Savior, yes, and He is also Comforter in sorrow; He is peace when life is falling apart or fear consumes; He is Friend when friends are few; He is Strength when courage fails or when life reaches its end; He is wise when decisions loom and we don’t know which way to go.  He is gracious and forgiving when we fail; merciful when our shortcomings overwhelm us; endlessly loving – unconditionally.  All of these things and more are what I want those I love to know and experience of Jesus. 

What I frequently find is that I get very impatient with the process. I want them to know Him and I want them to know Him NOW!  When I seem to see no evidence (by my standards!) that they’re getting even one tiny step closer, I get stuck on the things I don’t see – evidence of God at work, softened hearts toward Him, a sense of need of Him.  I don’t just get stuck though, I ruminate.  I lose sleep thinking about them – worrying, praying, fretting.  I beg the Lord for some sign that something positive is going on.

Lately I’ve been spending time in the psalms and I love them.  So often the psalmist, whether David or someone else, says exactly what I’m feeling when he looks around and God’s hand doesn’t seem evident to him either.  Consider these words from Psalms 12-17:

·       “Help, Lord, for the godly are no more, . . . . Everyone lies to his neighbor. . .

·       “How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?”

·       “Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge”

·       “The wicked close up their callous hearts. . . they have tracked me down. . . they surround me”

Hebrews 11:6 defines faith this way:

·       “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

When I’m only focusing on what I CAN see, it’s easy to become discouraged because my eyes are on the circumstances - typically the indifference to spiritual things in the people for whom I pray, or the impossibility, from a human perspective, of ever seeing any change in the one's I love.  But that’s not FAITH.  

Faith is believing the Lord.  Faith is believing that as I am praying, the Lord is answering.  Faith is believing God wants my loved ones to know Him even more than I do and that He CAN do what looks and seems impossible to me.  He IS God after all - infinitely wise, enormously creative, unfailingly loving, merciful and gracious.  Faith says, “God IS at work, even though I don’t know what He’s doing, or how He can change the heart of THAT person!”  All I have to do is look at the likes of Abraham, Jacob, Moses, the Apostle Paul and most of all, ME, to know that He can!

After a long stretch of thinking only of how frustrated I was that I could see none of the kinds of results I was hoping for, I ran across this verse in Psalm 13:

·       “I will sing to the Lord, for He has dealt bountifully with me.”

I began to list all of the ways in which the Lord has already dealt bountifully with me, and then I spent time thanking Him for every single one.  Instead of lamenting about all the ways in which I WANTED Him to work, but didn’t see Him doing what I wanted, I began to thank Him for the people I love, for the things I love about them, for the ways in which I believed He has been at work in them to this point. 

You know what happened?  I began to see them in a different light.  I began to see that while they weren’t yet walking with the Lord and enjoying His fellowship, there were plenty of ways I could celebrate the way the Lord had made them, while continuing to pray for the day when they would KNOW Him personally.

Focusing on the one area where I wanted to see change caused me to overlook all the ways in which these people I love were wonderful just the way they the Lord had made them.  I was missing so much to rejoice and thank the Lord over.  So now I find myself thinking of them and being thankful to the Lord – for the joy they bring me just having them in my life, for their character qualities - courage, strength, compassion, hard work, intelligence, humor, love for life.  They make my life so much richer because they’re part of it.

So, I’m celebrating them a lot more – and looking forward to the day when the Lord does what only He can – and He imparts His life in their hearts and souls.  Wow, what a day that will be!  In the meantime, I’m going to take a lot more joy in them – just the way they are – because that's the the way the Lord loves me.

HE HAS DEALT BOUNTIFULLY

I have been going through an unusually long period of spiritual dryness.  I’ve looked back with longing on the days of long walks in the nearby cemetery communing with the Lord.  I long for the days when my times of prayer and wonderful intimacy with Him could go on for hours. 

I could give reasons for this dry spell.  Living with extended family and a retired husband doesn’t allow for all the solitude I once had.  Going to the gym takes away the desire for those long prayer walks.  I could give other reasons too, like the disappointment of prayers unanswered, but they’re really just excuses.  How easy it is for me to allow other things to get in the way of my relationship with Jesus.  How easily I slip into spiritual lethargy and laziness.  You’d think I’d have learned a thing or two along the way in my walk with Jesus. 

Last year I had set a goal for myself to read through some of the Bible books I hadn’t read in a while.  Last month I began reading Hosea devotionally.  It’s a very sobering book that speaks of God’s coming judgment on Israel.  But it is also full of God’s promises that when they have turned again to Him in repentance, there would be restoration.  While I enjoyed reading a book I hadn't read in a while, I began to wonder if it might be wise to spend some time in the Psalms as well, since they always have a way of lifting my eyes up to the greatness of God.

This morning I was reading Psalm 13.  I love David’s psalms because they so often express exactly what I’m feeling at the time I read them.  Thank You for this, Holy Spirit.

David began lamenting the seeming distance of the Lord at a time when his enemies seem to have the upper hand over him.  He says:

“How long, O Lord?  Will You forget me forever?  How long will You hide Your face from me?  How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?  How long will my enemy be exalted over me?”

When I’m in a dry spiritual state, God does seem hidden and far away.  By faith, I know He’s there, yet He seems elusive, difficult to grab hold of.  When I’m in this state, it seems as if my spiritual “enemy”, Satan, has the upper hand.  My cup is half full, joy is absent.

Maybe you feel that way too.  You might have real life issues that go on and on – relationships, illness, loneliness, brokenness, sin that has you in its grip and won’t let go.  Maybe you feel forgotten by God.  David did.

David didn’t end his prayer with lamenting.  He brought God his requests:

“Consider and hear me, O Lord my God; Enlighten my eyes, Lest I sleep the sleep of death; lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed against him”; Lest those who trouble me rejoice when I am moved.”

How often when I am in this place, I simply get stuck there, like a gerbil on a wheel, going over and over all the things that bother me.  Instead of calling out to God, I ruminate on all that causes me pain, all the ways in which the Lord is not answering my most pressing prayers.

The best part of David's prayers are the way he ends them.  As he does in so many of the psalms, he ends with confident faith:

“But I have trusted in Your mercy, my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.  I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me.”

This is what I needed to do this morning.  I needed to focus on the LORD and not my spiritual state, not the things that burden me.  He has been so merciful to me, forgiven my sin and saved me.  He has blessed me with eternal life and a relationship with Himself that is real, intimate and personal.  Now THAT is something to rejoice over with singing! 

I finished my quiet time this morning making  a list of all the ways in which the Lord has dealt bountifully with me - and there were so many!  My heart is cheered today with thankfulness for all His goodness to me. 

But that wasn’t all.  I read today’s devotional reading from Oswald Chamber’s book, “My Utmost for His Highest” and in it he said this:

“We should never bear the burden of sin and doubt, but there are some burdens placed on us by God which He does not intend to lift off.  God wants us to roll them back on Him.

If we will only roll back on God the burdens He has placed on us, He will take away that immense feeling of responsibility, replacing it with an awareness and understanding of Himself and His presence.  

‘Cast your burden on the Lord’  ...   You have been bearing it all, but you need to deliberately place one end on God’s shoulder.”

The Lord reminded me this morning that the burdens I have, the prayers I long to have answered by God – like the enemy David faced – these are not mine to carry.  I cannot DO a single thing to change them, but I can role the burden over on the Lord, confident that He CAN affect change, and I can pray and thank Him for His bounty.  I can thank Him that He IS in control.  And in turn, He will "replace (my dryness, my burdensome concerns) with an awareness and understanding of Himself and His presence".   

How I needed to hear these things today.  

HOLDING IN HIGH ESTEEM THOSE WHO LABOR

Today in my Bible reading from the New Testament book Philippians, chapter 2, the Apostle Paul wrote about two of his close companions in the gospel, Timothy and Epaphroditus.  He had some glowing things to say about them. 

Of Timothy he said:

“I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare.  For everyone looks out for his own interests, not those of Jesus Christ.  But you know that Timothy has proved himself, because as a son with his father he has served with me in the work of the gospel.”

Paul refers to Epaphroditus as his brother, fellow worker and fellow soldier, who was sent by the church at Philippi specifically to bring a financial gift to attend to Paul’s needs while he was imprisoned.  Epaphroditus became so ill while visiting Paul that he nearly died, but the Lord in mercy, restored his health and now Paul was sending him back to his church with encouragement to the believers in Philippi to “Welcome him in the Lord with great joy.”

The words that struck me most were the words of Paul from verse 29: “Hold such men in high esteem.”  

I immediately began to think of the men and women who had served the Lord in the work of the gospel in my own life and wondered, “Who are the men and women in my life whom I should hold in high esteem because of their Christian character, their interest in the things of Jesus Christ, and their genuine interest in the welfare of others?”

I made a list.  There were the Baptist pastor and his wife who ministered to my family when I was in elementary school.  The pastor counseled my mom who was going through a rough spell in her marriage.  When we moved, my mom no longer kept in touch and it was many years after before we began to long to be part of a church.  Years later, after I had been a Christian for about 10 years, I attended a conference for Christian school teachers and was totally surprised to find that husband and wife leading a seminar.  I introduced myself and they actually remembered us!  How good the Lord was to give those folks some closure on what had happened to us.  They were overjoyed to discover that my brother was a pastor and I was teaching in a Christian school!

Then there was the Sunday school superintendent from another church who took me under her wing and mentored me so that I might teach first graders the Bible. 

The pastor who was the administrator of the Christian school where I taught was unfailingly encouraging and affirming.  I spent a good deal of time observing his wife because I could not believe someone could be so sweet and kind and full of faith all the time.  What I discovered over many years was that she really was a living example of the grace of Jesus – all the time.

Then there was the teaching leader in my Bible Study Fellowship class who saw something in me I didn’t see in myself.  Where I saw complete insecurity, she saw potential.  Where I would beat myself down, she would build me up.  Although I’ll never know why, she invited me to be her substitute teacher and then built into me all she knew about teaching the Bible.  She demonstrated what the love of Jesus looked like, taught me to pray, and gave me advice on raising my girls.  What an encourager she was – and still is! 

And there are the many missionaries, foreign and domestic, who sacrifice time with extended families, live in countries where they don’t, at first, know the language, who face daily challenges in sharing their faith, sometimes in dangerous environments.  Whenever they come home to the US and share their experiences, they never fail to give God glory and then to give us reasons to rejoice with them at what He is doing in the place where they serve.   

Today it’s Christian sisters in Christ who, by their example show me what it’s like to faithfully live out our faith, even through the most difficult circumstances.  There are the pastors of our church who genuinely put the interests of Jesus Christ first, and who care about our welfare – spiritual and otherwise - who have proved themselves to be lovers of God’s Word, prayer warriors, and men of integrity. 

Of all of these, and the many others I haven’t yet thought of, Paul’s words might be applied:  “Hold such men (and women) in high esteem”.

So, how do we hold them in high esteem?

One thing we can do is be an encourager.  Although Paul admonishes us to encourage one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs, I confess, while I may think kind and appreciative things about the people above, I don’t always TELL them.  So one thing I could do is make some calls, write some notes, speak some words face to face.  I know how great it is when someone encourages me, it’s time for me to give out those words as well.

I need to also refuse to join in when others are criticizing these men and women who deserve high esteem for their Christian character and service to Jesus Christ.  And I need to bite my tongue when I’m the one who starts it!

I could encourage my pastor and his family with a meal and either invite them over, or deliver it so our pastor’s wives don’t have to cook after a busy day of ministry. 

I can give them gift cards that allow them to do fun things with their families.

I can pray for them, and WITH them.  When our pastor first arrived five years ago, I asked his wife if she’d like to pray together once a week.  I was so blessed to get to know her well and she appreciated having someone to talk and pray with during that first year of transition.

My reading today and all the people the Lord has brought to my mind of whom I might apply Paul’s description of Timothy and Epaphroditus, are speaking to my heart.  I just might need to write some note cards this week!

Who do you know who takes a genuine interest in the welfare of others, whose first priority is the interests of Jesus Christ and not his/her own, who labors to encourage you in the gospel?  

How can you show them that you hold them in high esteem?  

SMALL THINGS THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE

At a time when many of us are frustrated by the deteriorating condition of society, I remember two events from my past where I did a small thing that made a moral difference.  Thought I’d share them.

When Jim and I were first married, nearly 45 years ago now, we lived in North Bergen, New Jersey.  To get from the place where we lived to the main part of town, we had to drive up what everyone in this area calls the viaduct.  The viaduct ultimately leads most people into the Lincoln Tunnel on their way into New York City, but locals also use it to get to Kennedy Boulevard, one of the major north/south roads in Hudson County.  If you’ve ever taken the NJ Turnpike or Route 3 into New York City, then you’ve used the viaduct.

 The viaduct isn’t very attractive.  I’m guessing it was built back in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s, so the roadway is old, some of it is crumbling.  At this time of year it’s probably riddled with potholes, and it’s always clogged with traffic.  The view as you come up from the west is a hodgepodge of advertisements of stores, movies, and cheap motels.  Back in the 1970’s when we lived there, there was one motel that always had a kind of sleazy message, like: “Day rates - $8 an hour”, and much worse things I have since blotted from my mind.**

**At dinner tonight my husband reminded me that the sign that prompted me to finally write said: "Love your neighbor here."  

Several times a week I drove that roadway and that sign always bothered me.  I didn’t really want to be assailed by some slimy message day in and day out.  It offended me, maybe it offended other people.  I finally reached the point where I thought I needed to do something.  So I wrote a letter.

I’m not even totally sure now what I wrote in the letter.  I’m sure I said something about being offended by some of the messages on the billboard, and wondered what effect such a sign might have on people driving from New Jersey into New York along the viaduct for the first time.  Whatever I said, it wasn’t long after that I got a phone call.  The owner of the hotel had received my letter.  He took me completely by surprise when he said he had never thought about the effect his sign might have on the people driving by.  He apologized and said he would change the messages on the signs to be less offensive.  And then I shared my faith in Jesus with him, and he thanked me.  And he kept his word about the sign.

It wasn’t long after when I read that he had died suddenly of a heart attack.  I hoped that encounter had made an eternal difference for that man.

Another time I was in our local Krauser’s store when I noticed a display of Playboy and other girlie magazines right at kid level.  I knew I didn’t want my kids getting an eyeful, so I asked if I could speak to the owner.  He wasn’t there that day, so on another day I went back and asked if he could move the display behind the counter so it wasn’t out front where children could view the photos.  And he did!  That was so easy I don’t know why I didn’t just ask him to remove them altogether!

Small things yes, but they made a difference.  What if we acted on those things that bother us today?  Maybe we could make our own small differences in our own neighborhoods.

FAILURE. . . .IS IT REALLY?

It was not one of the finest periods of my life.  I rarely talk about it and have never written about it, but in searching for topics to jump start my writing I thought about that time and wondered, “Dare I write about it?”

It happened more than 25 years ago now. Within the span of just a few months my closest family members, all of whom lived within a 10 mile radius of us here in northern New Jersey, decided to move – my brother moved 4 hours north, while my parents moved to Florida, and my in laws to California. 

Suddenly all of the things we took for granted when family lived close were a thing of the past.  When the holidays arrived we either spent them alone, just the four of us, either at home or a hotel somewhere, or we traveled to see family.  Gone were the days when Grandmas and Grandpas babysat, or came to plays or sporting events to watch the grandkids perform, or helped to celebrate birthdays.  On one hand, I found the distance kind of liberating.  I was finally going to have to be the grown up and learn to live without the presence of my family close by.  On the other hand, I also found it a bit traumatizing and lonely.

Around the same time we also moved, but not far away, and still in northern New Jersey, but far enough that we had to leave the church where we had been active and friends we had made in our old neighborhood.  Finding a new church was easy, but making new friends was a bit more challenging.  Eventually though, I did manage to find myself part of a group of friends from our church who also had children the ages of mine.  I still missed the closeness of my family, but life was good.

My oldest daughter started elementary school and I volunteered some time in her first grade classroom while my youngest was in pre-school.  Some time that year her teacher suggested to me that I might like to apply for the position of kindergarten teacher, as that teacher would be leaving.  I began to pray about it.  In looking back on it later, I knew I wasn’t really ready to work full time.  Even after praying, I was unsettled in my spirit, but I was feeling some pressure to take the job, from my friends whose kids would be in that class, from my daughter’s teacher, and from the administrator of the school, and so I pushed my misgivings aside and said yes.

At first I enjoyed the job.  I found an outlet for my creativity as I thought of new ways to teach.  I had never taught kindergarten before and it turned out to be so much fun!  I loved introducing my students to books I had read to my own girls.  We had the added bonus of practicing to perform a play in the spring, and I just loved the energy and fun loving spirit of those kindergarten kids!

As that year drew to a close the woman who had been my daughter’s first grade teacher decided to retire and she encouraged me to apply for the first grade teaching position.  I had taught this age group before and thought it would be more exciting to teach reading and other subjects, so I applied and was hired.  It was then that things began to slowly change.

Teaching first grade required a lot more preparation than kindergarten.  I have always been a meticulous planner – maybe too much so?  So, in addition to being on my feet all day teaching, after dismissal and on into the evening I found myself working on lesson preparation.  I began to feel really stressed when my own children came directly to my classroom after school let out.  At the same time I was preparing my own lessons, I was supervising the homework and piano practice of my own girls in my classroom.   Then it was home to cook dinner and finish up my planning before we began the bedtime rituals.  I confess that I wasn’t always so patient when it came to reading bedtime stories or getting the last glass of water before lights went out. By then my calm was seriously unraveling!

And the stress kept mounting.  The school where I was teaching was a private school affiliated with a church and so my first grade classroom was shared with Sunday school classes on Sunday and after school groups on Monday.  So every Friday before I could go home, I would have to rearrange my classroom for the Sunday class.  Then after church on Sunday, my husband and children helped me to set my room up again for Monday school classes.  Then on Monday, I had to leave my classroom before 3:30 so that another group could use it.  That necessitated moving furniture around again! 

As is true for many private schools, we didn’t have any extra money to pay lunch or recess aides.  So, in addition to our classroom duties, all teachers were responsible to rotate for lunch and recess duties.  I hated it.  On those days I had to go from my classroom to choke down my lunch and head for one of these duties, but that wasn’t the worst.  If you’ve ever had to do lunch duty in an elementary school, you know.  The lunch room and playground are chaotic!  On the outside, I was going through the motions of balancing all of this, but inside I felt like a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Somehow I got through that first year of teaching first grade, but at the end of the first day of my second year I have a clear memory that describes what was going on inside.  I was in the supermarket with my girls when I remembered something I wanted to buy.  I left the girls on a checkout line with our shopping cart while I ran down the milk aisle for the forgotten item.  As I ran I thought, “I hope I fall and break my leg so I don’t have to go back to work.”  Unfortunately, or so I thought at the time, I didn't.

Maybe someone reading this might ask, "Why didn't you just quit?"  For some reason, I didn’t think I had permission to stop working.  Everyone was counting on me – our administrator, the kids and their families, my husband, my kids.  So instead of just saying, “I’m done”, I kept on keeping on, while the inside pressure mounted.  I thought, maybe if I just get up earlier so I can spend more time in Bible reading and prayer, I'll be able to manage.  I got up an hour earlier so I could do that, but it didn't help.

That was the year I also had a parent who was accusing me of not attending to the needs of her son the way she thought I should.  She accused me of making the classroom a place where he didn’t feel safe.  My administrator supported me, so I took it with a grain of salt, but it still hurt and distressed me.  I was working as hard as I could and yet I still couldn't seem to get on top of things.

And then it happened.  It was the spring of that second year in first grade when I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I came into school that morning and cried of river of tears that would not stop.  I went to the nurse and my administrator sent me home. They were suggesting a rest, but I knew I didn’t want to go back, I couldn't go back - ever.  I wanted to run away to a place where I could be by myself and not tell anyone where I was going!  

The family of one of my students took me out to lunch shortly after and tried to talk me into finishing the school year.  I knew they were concerned about their son and the other students who would have to adjust to someone new for such a short time, and I felt terrible having to disappoint them, but I could not do it. 

I felt like a pariah. I was embarrassed to face the parents of my students in church, especially the new friends I had made whose children were in my class.  I felt I had let everyone down.  Some friends began to distance themselves – or maybe, in my shame and guilt, I just thought they had.  In any event, it caused me to isolate myself for a long time and seriously hurt any confidence I had that I would ever be able to do anything of significance again.

I don't know how much of a role not having family around influenced my mind at that time.  I know I felt alone in my pain and didn't really feel free to speak of it while I was going through it.  

That time speaks “failure” whenever I think back on it, but it certainly wasn’t a wasted experience.  Through it, I’ve learned that I don’t handle stress well.  I've discovered, based on other tasks I've done since, that I don’t like assuming a lot of responsibility.  People tell me I'm good at it, but they have no idea of what's going on inside! At that time, alternating my teacher, mom, and wife hats so often in the course of a day, over weeks and months, is not something I did well.  If you are a woman who manages to do all that, then may God bless and provide for you.  I cannot and I’m thankful that the Lord made that clear to me.  On the other hand, when I am asked to take on responsibility and I know the Lord is doing the leading, I'm well aware that He is providing my strength!  Otherwise I truly don't have what it takes!

Failure has also taught me that I should not say yes to something because others think it would be good for me - unless I have the accompanying clear peace of God the Holy Spirit.  I think I’ve learned this lesson well enough that now I am far more inclined to say no when I don’t think I am gifted for something, or when prayer about it doesn’t lead to a yes from God Himself.  My motto now is:  When in doubt, DON’T!  It really is better to say NO at the outset then have to back out later!

Since that experience and others over the years, I've learned that I love working with older children, but don’t really have the same patience for little ones.  I’ve been teaching middle schoolers (6-8^th grade) in Sunday school for 3 years and have worked as a volunteer with our high school youth group – and I love those age groups.  If you have a middle schooler of your own, then you know that working with them IS a God given gift.  Nearly everyone avoids middle schoolers!

I guess the most important lesson I learned is that God really loves me.  In His eyes, what I think of as failure, was not failure.  It was a divine opportunity to learn: how to discern His will,  to please Him alone and not everyone else, to embrace my limitations as well as my gifts, to learn that a single failure – even a big one – is not the end of my usefulness in His kingdom.

In the end, while I did miss my family, I'm thankful to have gone through those years without them to fall back on.  God's nearness was precious in those lonely times.  He sustained me then, and He sustains me now.  

If you're going through an experience that screams, "failure", in your ear, I hope my experience will encourage you.  Everyone experiences failures, but God's love and care for us remains constant.  You are not alone.

THE DREAM

I tend to dream a lot.  My dreams are very vivid.  They’re filled with people I recognize, colors I remember later, and ridiculously small details that I often can’t believe found their way in there. Usually, I don’t even try to assign any significance to them.  They’re entertaining to relate to my family in the morning, but no more.  But there was one dream I had many years ago that I do recall often, because its message seemed profound in a way I couldn’t, at first, figure out.

In the dream I was coming home, but “home” wasn’t the split level home in the suburbs in which I currently lived with my husband and children.  “Home” was a three story walk up in a sleazy looking tenement style building in a row of other tenement style buildings.  I was aware that no one else, my husband and children included, knew about the place.  I was keeping it a secret.

 I walked up the three dimly lit flights of stairs to a small landing and unlocked the door to my apartment.  Like one of the homes I lived in when I was a kid, this one also had railroad rooms, where you entered into the kitchen, made a right and went from one room to the next, like cars in a train.   

My dream “home” was just like that.  I entered through the hallway door into the kitchen and then went down the hall through bedroom after bedroom.  As I walked I noticed that the rooms were sparsely furnished, with the beds unmade. On the floor in the corner of each room was a small mound of a white powdery substance I recognized as mouse poison.  Obviously, my apartment had 4 legged “guests”.  I remember wondering why I would ever have a secret apartment like that one.  I felt ashamed of this place.  It was dark and dingy and it had mice!  No wonder I kept it secret!  I could never invite anyone there.

And then I reached the last room, the living room, and was taken completely by surprise.  I faced a wall of windows and the view was amazing!  It was a cityscape, twinkling with a million tiny lights.  It revealed a view to take your breath away.  All by itself it made this apartment worth keeping.

I looked around.  Not only was it beautifully furnished, but everywhere I looked there were things that I counted as treasures.  Beautiful statues and paintings of things I thought to be lovely were everywhere.  Jewelry, not of much real material value, but rich with sentimental value, was lying out on tables, to be admired. Articles of clothing I loved, like my favorite dress in second grade, and the camel coat with the faux fur collar my dad bought me one Christmas Eve, were displayed on racks or laid over furniture.  Photos that had special meaning were on shelves. 

No one entering the apartment by the kitchen door, or walking through the bedrooms would ever have suspected that such a room, or such treasures, even existed. My heart was overflowing with joy as I looked around that room.  It was so beautiful that I could cry!  And then I woke and the dream was over.  Some dreams, although I think I’ll remember them the next day, are quickly forgotten, but not this one.  I spent a lot of time thinking about it in the days ahead, sensing that there was a message in it for me. 

In order to understand how I found meaning in this dream, you need to know a little about me.  I tend to be a quiet, private person.  I had always envied people who seemed to make friends so easily while it took me forever.  I love people and I love having friends, but I spent a good deal of my adult life hiding behind quietness and insecurity, afraid that when people knew me better they might not like me.  And then I had the dream.

Eventually God used that dream to help me to understand something about myself.  The “home” which I was keeping secret from everyone else – even some of those closest to me – was ME.  As I saw it, it wasn’t a pretty place – it was dark and stark and unkempt – and it had mice!  I was ashamed to have anyone in for a visit.  God helped me see that every time I kept someone at arm’s length, every time I related only on a superficial level, I was attempting to hide from them those areas of my life that embarrassed me.  Like my less than perfect mothering skills, or my rampant insecurities about my abilities, or my often present  feeling of being “less than” other women whom I thought of as prettier, smarter, stronger, more likeable than I.

Eventually I also began to understand the meaning of the beautiful living room, hidden away at the end of the house, full of precious treasures.  The “home” that was me, wasn’t only full of things I’d rather others not see, there were also treasures I was hiding! This was a revelation because I never thought of myself as having treasures worth sharing!  Over time God has helped me to see that the compassion He’s planted in my heart – for the dying, for the developmentally challenged, for foreigners living in the country for the first time, for teens – all of these are treasures.  He’s helped me to value the sense of humor and adventure He’s planted within, and the gift of teaching and all the opportunities to use it that He’s given me.

He helped me to see that while I was hiding the things about me of which I was ashamed, refusing to share them with anyone else, I was also hiding the treasures.  Potential friends I allowed in might move through the rooms of my “home” that I wasn’t so proud of, but if they stayed with it long enough, they’d also share my treasures.  And there WERE treasures to share!

Over time I’ve come to embrace what God showed me.  I no longer hide my dark “rooms”.  When I’ve had the courage to share what’s in them, my failings resonate with others who’ve faced similar things and I find myself blessed with new and lasting friends who “get” me even as I “get” them.  I have the courage now to live my treasures as well as share them – like the adverturesomeness of zip lining, the craziness of dressing up for April Fool’s Day with my granddaughter and posting the photos on Facebook, the blessing of saying YES to a mission’s trip at the age of 61!

I’ve dreamed a lot of dreams since that night long ago, and I still chuckle over most of them with my family, but none have had the impact on my life that that one had.  I’m so grateful for the lesson the Lord taught me through it.