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A High Calling

Here I am, Lord, uniquely gifted with skill, time, and energy graciously provided by you. I recognize this. And I believe that you have me where you want me, which means that this particular job that I thought last week was a real bummer is, in actual fact, a high calling, and I am going to live and work today as if that is exactly what it is.

I have this short paragraph displayed very prominently in my office as a reminder of why I do what I do and for whom. I really don’t recall where I first read it, but it so intrigued me that I copied it down. My friends tell me I analyze everything to death, and maybe I do and I have.

Whatever makes up who I am comes from the hand of God. It may be much or little; other people may watch with envy at the level of expertise I may have in what I do or they may shake their head in wonder that I’ve gotten as far as I have. My day may be crammed with more “things” to do, places to go, and people to see than I can get to or I may not be able, for whatever reason, to step outside my door. Still, I recognize that God has granted me personality, gifts, talents, and a certain number of days in which He expects me to become the best I can at what He has for me to do. Actually that is the only gift I can give back to Him–what I do with my life.

I do believe I am where God wants me and doing the particular job He has called me to do. So, in light of that statement of belief, the only task ahead of me, regardless of how compartmentalized it may be, is to finish what I’ve started. The Lord Jesus Christ has set me upon a path, within a particular time frame, and given me the tools with which to become and do. Therefore, when I look at my job in this light, I realize that it is a high calling.

What do I do now? Follow suit; stick to the course; reach for the stars; continue on; excel; never quit becoming; stay focused, and finish what has begun. This life of mine that is a high calling? I will live and work today as if that is exactly what it is.

Grams

What I Missed

My computer has been in the shop. Keith took it to the Apple Store but they didn’t know what to do with it, so it was sent off for repair. I had not realized how attached I’d become to my MacBook. When I went home in the evenings I hardly knew what to do. I watched some movies and read something I didn’t have to edit, but those no longer held the appeal they once did. I really missed my laptop.

Keith hooked me up with an extra laptop at the office, but I couldn’t take it home ’cause it didn’t work really well if it was moved around a lot. So, even though I could work at my office, I still didn’t have my “toy” to play with in the evenings. Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you’d be wrong. I didn’t spend hours on the Internet; I didn’t play Solitaire or other mindless games; but I did write. And that’s what I have realized I missed. Not so much my tool, but the product this tool helped me create. And there’s where the attraction lay–writing.

I got my MacBook back today and it seems to be fixed. So, I can write and when I get through, I can write some more. I really need to catch up; I’d better hurry.

Grams

Totally Adequate

“There is no room for feelings of inadequacy before a totally adequate God”–Cinda King. When I read that I almost sat upright. In one short sentence, man’s place before almighty God has been defined. The writer is not talking about man’s failures and inabilities as compared to the power and magnificence of Jehovah God, but about God’s might and power that enables Him to completely supply all His children will ever need. Therefore, none of us, if we have made Christ Lord of our lives, are inadequate because He is not.

The word feelings caught my attention. The one idea that is touted today is that if it feels right, if it feels good, then do it. So, feelings rule; not intellect; not reason, and definitely not faith. So this idea of feelings washes over into everything we do and with the people we associate. It determines how we respond; whether or not we go or stay; even if we believe God or not.

What do I think this writer was really saying? Simply that before an omnipotent God, the God who spoke all that exists into being, I have no right to take the way out by claiming I’m inadequate. He has promised to supply whatever I need to do and be whatever He calls me to. Feelings–dangerous thoughts and emotions that can stymie the power of God. The next time you feel inadequate, instead of glorying in your perceived humility, remember that you stand before a “totally adequate God” and He makes you more than adequate.

Grams

That’s a Big Bathtub!

Ellie held tightly to her dad’s hand. This was her first time at the beach and today would be a special day. She stood still, taking in as many of the sights and sounds as she could. The noise of the wind as it ruffled her hair, the waves rolling toward her and then back out to sea, the smell of salt water, the seagulls as they dipped and dived at unseen food, the sun that made diamonds sparkle out on the water, and the crunch of the sand under her feet were almost too much for a two year old.

Ellie took a deep breath and tugged on her dad’s hand. Chris stooped down so he could hear. “Daddy,” Ellie said, “that sure is a big bathtub”!

Oh, the wonder of God’s creation seen through the eyes of a child. Before the day was over and Chris, Tori, and Ellie headed home, Ellie had found a new playground. She played in the sand, let the waves splash her legs as she walked along the water’s edge, and, wonder of wonders, picked up seashells washed up to her from the floor of the ocean, almost like a gift.

On the ride home, a tired little girl slept, dreaming of sand, sun, water, seashells, and the day she got to play with her mommy and daddy in God’s big bathtub.

Grams

Oblivion or Life?

Small rivulets of sweat slowly make their way down the side of his face. His tongue licks his lips, tasting the saltiness. Eyes, bloodshot from days of drinking, struggle to focus as hands that had once been steady cling to the arms of his chair. Across the room the object of his torment calls to him, offering relief, comfort, and even an odd sense of security. Is that the power the bottle holds over him–the ability to soothe away all the hurts, failures, and pain of the past? Or is it the relief of oblivion; the safety of being unreachable? When the numbing effect of the bottle takes over, no one can hurt him. The realization that he has taken the easy way out slaps him in the face. He is a coward, running from life. People who wanted to help him, and would have if given the chance, have long since gone their way. All he has left now is the solace of temporary relief. How he longs for oblivion, to hide, to feel secure and safe.

Someone else struggles to face the pain of the past, the hurt and rejection that destroyed her sense of worth. Instead of turning to a numbing substance like alcohol, she erected walls, thick walls, impenetrable walls that prevented anyone from ever hurting her again. But, life held very little meaning and oh how she longed for the laughter and freedom of her childhood. As the desire intensified, she began to wonder if it was worth the risk. Maybe it was time to bury the past. Just maybe. . . .

Gingerly she takes a step forward and gropes for something to hold on to. She is exposed, raw and bare for all to see. Unsure of what to do next, she wonders if this was such a good idea after all. Anonymity had its benefits. The wall had offered a sense of security and safety matched only by obscurity.

No one really knew her; no one understood who she was, where she had been, or what had happened to drive her to seek the solace of the wall. Oh sure, there were those who thought they understood, but they really didn’t. Only those who have experienced deep hurt and pain can understand the need for self preservation, the urge to protect one’s self at all costs. But now, after all those years, somehow the courage to step out from behind the wall enveloped her mind. Maybe she would regret this for the rest of her life, but she would do it. She would no longer hide; no longer would the wall be her safety and security. She would face the past and all of its failures, hurts, disappointments, and pain.

Always the wall is there, calling to her, reminding her that she still has a place she can go when things get too rough. Like the alcoholic who contemplates reaching for the next drink, every day she consciously decides either to walk behind the wall or to remain a player, a viable participant in life. Is it easy? No, for the constant fear of failing to do and be what God wants rides her shoulder. Has she thought about stepping behind the wall, just for a little while? Oh, sure. But God is gracious. His Holy Spirit is always present and His Word is truth. When the wall beckons too loudly, it is to these two that she turns. And Jesus is always there.

What calls to you? Do you look for safety and security in something other than Jesus Christ who loved you enough to die in your stead? Jesus does not offer oblivion, but He does offer life. I choose life.

Grams

Patch and Repatch

The restaurant was packed. It was Friday night and in our town people go out to eat, particularly on the weekend. It seems everyone wants to celebrate the end of the work week. This night was no different.

My friends and I had just gotten our food and was about to eat when something like black strings or yarn seemed to hang from my glasses. I reached up to push them away or pull them off, but I could not feel anything there. The friend I was with asked what I was doing. I replied I was trying to get some black strings off my glasses. She looked kind of perplexed and said, “There’s nothing there.” That’s when I knew something had gone wrong with my left eye.Then the white light flashing in the corner of my eye began. I didn’t know what had happened, but I knew this could be serious.

The next day I went to an optometrist for an eye exam. After a very careful examination he told me I’d had a posterior visceous detachment but the retina was not torn. The following Monday I got an appointment with an ophthalmologist who confirmed the earlier diagnosis. However, during this exam the doctor discovered that I have cataracts. The right eye needed surgery as soon as I could arrange it. So another part of me had to be fixed.

This year has been the year of patch and repatch. July 2007 began this process of fixing things as they either quite working as they were supposed to or came loose. In July it was discovered that I have a “stiff” heart. Not a hard heart, but an inflexible one. Basically it is not soft and pliable as it should be and so it doesn’t pump all of the blood out of my heart, which causes blood to back up and not get to all of the places it needs to go. This in turn causes fluid to build up, and the scenario can just escalate from there. There isn’t much of a cure; just aggressive blood pressure control, eliminate fluid build up, and keep as much stress off my heart as possible. Sounds simple enough, that is until you try to keep up your same pace. That’s when the truth hits you right between the eyes–you will no longer be the same physically. Gone are the days of running on empty, sleeping a few hours, and starting all over again the next day. And now, my eyes needed fixing.

I tend to think that things happen for a reason, particularly for the child of God. And I’ve often told people that nothing touches the Christian that doesn’t first pass through God’s hands. So, how do I reconcile my beliefs with what is happening to me physically? It hasn’t been easy.

I suppose the most difficult part has been learning to pace myself, to slow down and rest. I have always done what needed doing whenever it needed to be done and I didn’t need anyone’s help either. But now I can’t clean my house. I can’t drive 9 hours to see my grandchildren. And the list could just go on and on. However, there are some things I will be able to do once I make some lifestyle changes and learn to pace myself. Even when I have the lens replacement done I’ve been assured that I’ll only need reading glasses. I’ve not seen that well since I was a child. So, all is not lost. My life is not over.

I have come to realize that God surely must have let my symptoms manifest themselves in order to give me more life, not take it from me. My heart, while not cured, is manageable. It is something I’m learning to live with. I do what I can and rest when I need to; I pick and choose what I do, when, where, and for how long. And with new eyes, I should be able to continue editing for several more years, not to mention writing. So, what I first thought was the bleakest of circumstances has turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Instead of taking my life, God is making it possible for me to continue to contribute, to be a viable participant in life.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the gift God has given me in faithful friends who have walked with me through all of these changes. They constantly remind me to slow down, to rest, watch my diet, be sure I take my medicine, and just generally nag me to do what the doctor says. They know I love them and appreciate all they do because I’ve told them.

Whether I live to be 80 or only another day, either way the best is yet to come. And I’m very thankful.

Grams

Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone

You’ve just received word that the company is downsizing and your job has been eliminated. Fear, anxiety, anger, even a sense of hopelessness flood your mind. What will you do? Where will you go? In the back of your mind you know that you may have to relocate. Change.

The last few months you have spent hours going over brochures of colleges, trying to decide which one is the right choice to make. You want your son or daughter, as the case may be, to be satisfied with the decision, but finances play a major role in the choice that is made. Finally the day arrives when that one who has been a major part of your life for 18 years is leaving home, going off to college. Your stomach knots up as you struggle to hold back the tears. It won’t be the same, ever again. Change.

The church’s facilities are old and in need of major repair. The demographics of the city have shifted and to be affective, the church must consider its future role in its present community. Avenues for outreach have almost come to a standstill due to language and custom barriers. In the back of everyone’s mind is the nagging question of what to do. If we move, where to, when, and who will lead? Whatever the church decides to do everyone knows that things will never be the same again. Change.

People fear change. It is an unknown and in that quality resides the fear that both causes change and hinders it. Today it’s called stepping out of your comfort zone and I guess that’s a good name for it. Still it means you have to do something you’ve never done before; embrace another man’s vision and decide whether or not you can trust him. That’s what it comes down to in the long run. Trust, pure and simple. But have you noticed just how hard that can be, to place total trust in someone, regardless of who he or she may be?

Have you ever considered why God placed men over His flock; why He gave mortal men the responsibility of looking after His children while in this life? Give that some thought, I mean beyond the textbook answer. Maybe, just maybe, God knew us well enough to realize that if anything substantial was ever to be accomplished on planet earth, we needed someone to follow; someone we could see, talk to, build a relationship with; someone physical with the same sinful tendencies we all have, yet able to live a life that inspires us to walk closer to our God. I know we have God’s Word and I believe it is the infallible, inerrant Word of almighty God, but at times I still need that human interaction, that human example of faith, of depending on God, of standing for what’s right.

Look at the apostle Paul. He’s the one who said, “Follow me as I follow the Lord” (paraphrase). The prophets of old admonished the people under their hearing to listen and do as they said. Then of course there’s Moses, possibly the greatest leader of all time. He returned to a people, who had sought his life, with the command of God to lead those same people out of Egypt to a land “flowing with milk and honey”–the Promised Land. Now that was change, and the people followed, complaining and griping all the way.

If God has placed you in a position of leadership over a group of people much like the Israelites headed for Canaan or even 1st century Christians, take heart. You stand in the gap; you are the one most will look to, not the Lord. Most of your people will follow the Lord only as you do. And in that you will be able to inspire some to train their eye on Christ and not on you. And when that happens you will have instigated change. You will have forced people out of their comfort zone. Where once your people looked only to you for how to live, what to believe, how to trust, and how to serve, as time goes by they will keep their eyes on Christ and follow where He leads; live as He teaches; believe what He says, and serve where He leads.

The neat thing about the entire process is that it never stops. There will always be others to take the place of those who have matured to the point that they will follow Christ, even if, God forbid, you don’t. They will have changed–stepped out of their comfort zone–and the church takes another step forward. And that’s a good thing.

Whether your voice speaks from time past; whether you walk out of the desert or come down from the hills, God has called you to be a catalyst for change. And that will impact people’s hearts, minds, and emotions. In order for you to accomplish what God has for you, you too may have to step out of your comfort zone. You up to it? I sure hope so.

Grams

Honor Their Sacrifice

Memorial Day–the day all Americans honor those who have given their lives in service for their country. Often there are parades, barbecues, ceremonies on the courthouse square, and family outings to commemorate the significance of this day. This particular Memorial Day, after the parade, there was to be a ceremony honoring the town’s veterans. At the conclusion of the ceremony the mayor wanted someone to pay taps.

Now, in a small southern town that meant whoever was first chair in the high school band trumpet section had that honor. But this year, the boy who held first chair had a schedule conflict. So, second chair was asked to play. Second chair in the trumpet section was my son, Brian. This was a special time for him, particularly since he was a year younger than the other guy. This was something that should not have come to him for at least another year, maybe even two.

He had only a couple of days to practice. And yes, he was nervous. He was to stand on the court house square at the flag pole. Following the parade, people were to gather around while the mayor recognized the veterans that were present and made a speech. Then it would be Brian’s time to play. Over and over, what seemed like every waking moment, Brian played taps. To me it seemed simple enough; quite straightforward really. But to a sophomore in high school, it was a major undertaking. After all, the entire town would be there. Well, not really, but in his mind there was going to be a huge crowd and he wanted to do his best. I couldn’t fault  him because that is what I expected of him anyway.

The day was bright and sunny, just right for all that would take place that day. When the time came for Brian to play, he stood a little to the right of the flag pole, closed his eyes, and did what he knew to do. And it was flawless! Quiet settled over the crowd. Some of the older men wiped tears from their eyes, remembering a time far in the past when those they had fought with did not get to come home. Family members of those same men hung their heads in silent recognition of their absence. As the last note floated away, carried off on a gentle spring breeze, a sigh rippled through the crowd. No one moved; no one wanted to forget. Children who did not understand what had just happened were quiet; they knew it was a special time. And it was.

There was another day, years later, when Brian stood to the side of those gathered to commemorate the passing of their friend and comrade. This time it was not on the court house square, not even in the United States. This time Brian was with the 3rd ID in Iraq and they were holding services for those who had died the day before. Apparently, he was the only bugler in that part of Iraq. After the services, the battalion commander said, “Son, this time was different. You knew him, didn’t you?” Brian said, “Yes, Sir. He was my friend.”

Brian had gone on to take a degree in music performance out of high school, so the level of expertise was greater. But it was not Brian’s expertise with the trumpet that made the difference in the two events. This time Brian knew; this time the men who had died were men he had fought with; men he had talked with, ate with; had shared life with.  All the emotion that flooded his heart poured from his trumpet. He honored their sacrifice.

Memorial Day is about a month away. Maybe you haven’t fought alongside men in combat, but you definitely are reaping the benefits of those who have. Think about what you have and how your life would be if men down through the years had not been willing to fight so you could live. Take the time to honor their sacrifice. Remember.

Grams

God’s Lay-away

It was hunter green and made of the softest brushed suede. Chris looked through the rack. Yep, there was one in his size. He slipped it off the rack and tried it on; it was a perfect fit. Gently his hands rubbed the suede; he checked the fit in the mirror. Before he asked, I reminded him it was $149.99. I did not have the money and saw no way to come up with it. Besides, I could get two for the price of that one at Wal Mart.

He knew, even before I said anything. But he wanted that jacket. He asked how much would I be willing to pay. He was intent on working out a deal with me. That was his style and he was good at it too. I thought for a minute; I wanted to be sure of my terms before I said anything. “OK, if the price drops below $50, I’ll get it for you, providing there is still one in your size.” He grinned and said, “It’s a deal.”

I turned to walk on but Chris lingered. He had taken the jacket off, put it back on the rack, and was standing there, holding on to the jacket with his head down. Great! Now he was praying.

Chris didn’t mention the jacket anymore, but every time we went to Belks, he always checked that rack. His size was still there. Then, one day the price was down to $115. He just grinned and walked on. Each week we made a trip to Belks just to check the price of that jacket. As the price continued to drop, I knew I had better find $50 somewhere.

Several weeks later we walked into the store for our weekly price check. Three jackets remained on the rack. The sign read, $39.95. Chris looked up at me with anticipation. What if after all this time there was not one in his size? He looked at the three remaining jackets. Yes! One was his size! He tried it on again, just to be sure it fit. He said, “I knew God would give me this jacket. I needed one and I asked Him for this one.” Then, he again bowed his head; this time he was thanking his provider, not asking.

That day a happy little boy walked out with a hunter green, brushed suede jacket God had put on lay-away, just for him. That same day a proud momma was humbled by the faith of her 12 year-old son.

Grams