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.

WHAT IF JESUS HADN'T COME?

 On Sunday our pastor read part of a letter from a missionary family.  They recounted some of the challenges they were facing, challenges that would tax any of us.  At the end of their letter they asked this question:  “What if Jesus hadn’t come?” 

Well, what if He hadn’t? 

As I reflected on how I might answer that question, one thought came to mind:  life would be hopeless.  

If Jesus hadn’t come I’d still be working furiously in an effort to win God’s approval with my works, and never, ever, really knowing if it was enough to balance out my faults and failures.

I would never know the wonderful assurance that I had been forgiven – not because I deserved it – but because Jesus made it possible.  Instead I would be consumed by my guilt and fearful.

If Jesus hadn’t come, joy would remain elusive.  Oh, there would be happiness in happy things – people, birthdays, new jobs, new babies – but the joy that comes from knowing Jesus, even when life holds no joy, would be absent.

When life brought despair through deaths, divorces, disease, tragedy – there would be nowhere to turn for true and lasting comfort.  Only a “cross your fingers and hope for the best” dream to hold onto.   The promise that “all things work together for the good to those who love God” would be absent.

Without Jesus, God would remain “out there”, seemingly distant, indifferent, removed from the suffering of us humans.  

Without Jesus I would go on thinking of God as the heavenly policeman, ready to smack me upside the head every time I stepped out of line.  I would never understand His love, a love that would sacrifice its BEST, had Jesus not come.   

There would be no intimacy with my Heavenly Father, no sweet awareness of His nearness.

BUT Jesus HAS come and His coming fills me with a CONFIDENT hope!

Living within me by His Spirit, He fills me with peace, comfort, the companionship of His presence, power for living a godly life.  I never again need to walk the tenuous balance between doing good, and not doing bad, to gain God’s approval.  I already have it.  It was made mine thorough faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Forgiveness for the sin that still so easily besets me, is just a prayer away.

When the sorrows and challenges of this world threaten to overwhelm me, I can rest in God’s sovereignty and trust His promise that “ALL things work together for (my good)”, because He is FOR me.

All my guilt has been removed.  Jesus has paid for my sin IN FULL.

This world with its joys, and also its heavy sorrows, is not my final destiny. Heaven is my home.  On the day that I enter its gates, the presence of sin – in me and in my environment – will be a thing of the past.  The Lord Jesus will rule in righteousness and I will know fullness of joy when I SEE Him face to face!  On that day, when I leave this life for the next, Jesus will welcome me home! 

One day, my body, which has been so ravaged by sin will be glorified.  No sin, no sickness, no death, no crying, no sorrow!   The sting of death, and its victory over me, has been won by my victorious Savior! 

Jesus HAS come and His coming has made ALL the difference in my life.  Confident, expectant hope is the hallmark of my faith! 

I'VE GOT THE JOY, JOY, JOY, JOY

Oh my goodness!  For a reason unknown to me I have been trying since September to access my blog, without success.  But today, with the help of my WONDERFUL husband, I am finally back!  I’m so thankful!

It has been a whirlwind of a month, and we still have two and half weeks to go!  In early December I had to have an angiogram for a possible blockage in my heart.  With heart problems on both sides of my family, and a younger brother who had a heart attack, this caused a bit of anxiety.  However, the test was false positive!  Rejoicing all around!

Then, just this week we were hit with a family problem which has disappointed and upset us and increased all our anxiety levels.  It’s not likely to be over quickly either, so the forecast is still - angst ahead. 

In response to a request for prayer which I sent out this week, a friend replied, “Don’t let this rob you of the joy of anticipating the birth of Emmanuel – ‘God with us’”. 

Even when things are not going the way we wish, even though there is anxiety and stress – we can still experience the joy of the Lord, which is our strength, and I certainly want to do that at this sacred time of year.  Despite the stresses of the month so far, joy also abounds!

On Tuesday of this week, after I taught my last lesson in a 10 week-long series on the life of Joseph, the son of Jacob, from the book of Genesis, one of the women attending spoke to me.  Her words were, “I wanted you to know that the study of Joseph has profoundly changed my life.”   On that day I had graciously received a gift card, a candle, and a cross to hang on my wall – but it was THAT gift that filled this teacher’s heart with joy.  Transformed hearts is what Bible teaching is all about, so when it happens, all those hours of preparation for teaching feel so worthwhile.  Transformed hearts bring me great joy!

After class I went to visit one of my hospice patients (I’m a hospice volunteer).  My patient was sound asleep and remained that way through my entire visit, despite my gentle efforts to wake her.  However, she happened to be sitting right next to a 7 foot, decorated Christmas tree, in the nursing home where she lives, which gave the room such a festive air.  Gathered around her were a half dozen or so other residents in various states of memory loss, simply sitting and staring. 

As it happened, the lady I sat next to was clapping and humming to an old song from the post war days that I remember my mom singing.  So, I began to sing what I remembered of the words and noticed that others in the crowd of previously almost catatonic residents had begun to tap their feet, hum, or wave their arms to the music. 

With this suddenly very attentive audience, we began an impromptu sing-along of seasonal favorites.  

What a blessing it was to see people who just a moment before seemed totally disengaged with the activity around them, suddenly perk up.  We had a blast and I found my heart FULL of the joy of the season, the joy of showing the love of Jesus to these folks, and the joy of watching music bring them to life.  It was a sweet moment of celebration.

Then it was Wednesday.  Usually on a Wednesday morning I can be found at my town library meeting with four lovely foreign ladies who are my “English as a Second Language” (ESL) students.  But last Wednesday we had decided that instead of our usual meeting, we would drive together to a church in a neighboring town for a Christmas concert in which two of our group were singing.  The music was wonderful! 

The biggest blessing for me, other than being with my students, was to hear carols so familiar to me sung in Japanese.  I couldn’t help but think of heaven, when all believers in Jesus – from every tongue and nation - will sing His praises together.  I don’t know if we’ll retain a knowledge of our earthly languages, but it just might be that we’ll have the thrill of singing the same praise songs, in beautiful harmony – each in our own earthly tongue.  What a sound that would make!  Joy, joy and more joy!

Later that afternoon I had the blessing of having tea with another friend.  Elizabeth is from Kenya.  She left two sons back home so that she could come to the US to make more money than she could make in Kenya and send her boys to university.  Elizabeth is the home care aide for another of my hospice patients.  Early on we discovered that we both love Jesus – instant friendship!  We had a lovely time learning more about one another and praying together, her black hands entwined with my white ones.  Another taste of heaven – and fullness of joy!

Then yesterday, Friday, I hosted a Christmas brunch for my ESL students.  I try to have a brunch every 4-6 weeks in my home as an opportunity for us to enjoy one another’s company in a less formal setting.  Since everyone contributes food, we can also sample foods familiar and not so familiar.  Lots of conversation is generated over a table laden with food.  We look forward to these brunches like little girls anticipating a tea party! 

This time I planned a surprise.  In addition to my ESL students, I also invited 6 of my own American friends to join us, but I didn’t tell my students.  I knew they would be terrified!  The instructions I gave my friends was to speak slowly, ask questions, talk less and listen more, in order to give my ESL students a chance to use their English.  What a wonderful morning it proved to be as the conversation, interspersed with laughter, flew back and forth across the tables!

Once again I found myself full of joy, praising the Lord for putting it into my heart to volunteer to be an ESL tutor.  I know that all I’m doing to help my students become more adept at English is blessing them because they tell me, and I can actually see the improvement in their confidence level. 

What has really blown me away though, is the HUGE blessing I receive!  These lovely women have added so much richness to my life with their sweetness and kindness.  Our relationship together is about so much more than just tutor and students.  They share the concerns of their mothers’ hearts, the warmth of their friendship, and their challenges of living here in the United States with me.  For my part, I not only help them with English, I serve as a kind of surrogate mother, cheerleader, and friend.

So, while this month had a little more than its share of angst, my cup is overflowing with gratitude to my Lord for all the ways in which He has filled me with His joy.

Someone once said that happiness comes from happenings and I’ve had plenty of delightful happenings to bring me happiness this week.  However, there is something so much better than happiness, something deeper that fills my heart when happy happenings are hard to find – and that “something” is the joy of the Lord.  I can have that any and every time – even in the anxious ones – when I think about Jesus and all the ways in which He’s blessed me.