Devotions on 'Joy'

This week I was cleaning out some papers and found a stack that looks like notes on a challenge/project I must have done seven or eight years ago. The instructions (in quotation marks below) were printed at the top of the first page, then my notes below that, and the other 'devotional' pages, were handwritten. There is no date on any of the papers, but judging by the handwriting style, and the wording of some of my notes, I'd guess that it was probably around 2011 or 2012. I have absolutely no memory of doing it. I don't know if this 'challenge' was from a blog I followed, a book I read, a camp or conference I attended, or a church small group (Sunday School, Wednesday night youth group, or Thursday night college Bible study). In any case, the topic is 'Joy', and that has been something I've really been struggling with in recent months (years, actually). I thought the timing was interesting that I should find these papers now.
I decided to share these little 'devotionals' here. They are short, most of them just three or four paragraphs, and not 'polished' at all, but I want to record them anyway. A '~' marks the separation between pages.

~

"1) Read and meditate on 8 verses in the Bible that relate to being joyful.
2) Copy or print 2 of the 8 Bible verses and put them in a place that you'll see each day!
3) Journal one blessing per day that brings a smile to your face and reminds you of God's goodness and gift of joy.
4) Thank Jesus Christ for the joy that He has put in your heart. Pray that He will shine through the joy on your face and that He will use your testimony of JOY to bring others closer to Him.
5) Be prepared at the end of this month to post your thoughts, Bible verses on Joy, and 5 blessings that made you smile!!!"


Bestowed Joy -
Ecc. 2:26 - God giveth wisdom, knowledge, and joy
Zeph. 3:17 - joy over thee with singing
Luke 24:41 - they believed not for joy

Commanded Joy -
Phil. 4:4 - Rejoice in the LORD
Is. 24:14&15 - islands singing

Blessed Joy -
Ps. 126:3 - The LORD hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad.
Is. 12:3 - with joy draw waters out of the well of salvation

Fellowship Joy -
Philemon 1:7 - great joy in thy love

Salvation Joy -
1 Pet. 1:8 - rejoice with joy unspeakable
Jude 1:24 - present you with joy

Empowering Joy -
Neh. 8:10 - the joy of the LORD is your strength
Ps. 16: - fullness of joy

~

Bestowed Joy
"For God giveth to a man that is good in his sight wisdom, and knowledge, and joy:..."
Ecclesiastes 2:26

This verse can be really convicting if we allow it to speak to us.
Everyone who has been saved may be considered 'good' in the sight of God, for their sin is covered by Christ, and He is what God sees. However, a saved person's actions are not always 'good'. Many times, though we are saved, we fall back into the ways of sin. Those times obviously are not pleasing to the LORD.
To me, the verse seems to be implying a message similar to that of James 1: If you want, truly want, the LORD to give us some good thing (like wisdom or Joy) we must ask. And we must be sincere in our asking. If we are saved but living like we don't care, dare we think God will just automatically bestow all these righteous qualities on us? Seems mighty presumptuous to me.
Let us live 'good'. Let our lives ask, and He will freely give all good things.

~

Commanded Joy
"Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice." 
Philippians 4:4 

Practice counting your blessings, and Joy will begin to come naturally. Make it a way of life! We have so many reasons to be joyful, period!, but what more wonderful reason is there to be glad than to think that Jesus, the Son of God, is our LORD?! There is none! Sure, difficult times come, and come often. We will get discouraged, hurt, or angered. But we aren't commanded to be 'happy'. Happiness depends on immediate circumstances. Joy looks to eternity. 
He is our Friend. He is our Brother. He is our Life! Rejoice! 

~ 

Blessed Joy 
"The Lord hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad."
Psalm 126:3 

The joy and thanksgiving that the Psalmist felt here is just flying off the page. You can feel his enthusiasm, his gratefulness, and his worship of the One Who blesses. 
This verse in itself has been a blessing to me, for it expresses so simply, yet so adequately, the emotion I often feel. 
Great things! He has done great things for us! And we are glad. 
But here's another thought. He blesses us abundantly - but do we take time to thank Him for those blessings?
This may just be my interpretation, but I think that an inseparable part of true joy is it's expression - and what higher way to express it than to be thankful to Him Who gives it in the first place?! If someone is not thankful, they are not truly joyful. They may be happy - but not joyful. Take the story of the 10 lepers in the Bible. Jesus healed them all, and they were all glad. But one was truly joyful and he had to express it

~

Fellowship Joy 
"For we have great joy and consolation in thy love, because the bowels of the saints are refreshed by thee, brother." 
Philemon 1:7 

It almost seems as if Paul here is writing what we'd call now-a-days a 'friendly letter' to Philemon. This dear friend and brother in Christ was evidently a very righteous man, someone who could be depended upon, and of a loving, compassionate, nature - an encourager. 
Paul and Timothy had been blessed and comforted in his love. And not only in his love toward them - but also because of his love toward "the saints". Sometimes it is just as much of a blessing to experience friendship for others you love, as it is to be given friendship yourself. 
Whatever the case was, Philemon was a believer who brought Joy to other believers. 
Personal application: I am blessed with several dear friends who I can truly say I "have great joy and consolation" in. They are my brothers and sisters in the LORD, and we are family! The LORD has increased the joy in my life through the love of these dear friends. 
Am I a friend who gives others Joy? 

~

Salvation Joy 
"Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory:" 
1 Peter 1:8 
(ideally, verses 3-9)

It is almost necessary to start back at verse 3 to get the full context for this verse. Peter is encouraging the believers in the "temptations" or trials they are going through. These things are only for a little time and are relatively insignificant when compared with the awesomeness of Salvation, our unworthiness as recipients of such a gift, and the indescribable magnitude of eternity with Christ!
He has raised us from the lowest, most despicable position that such vile, repulsive creatures could come to and given us an incorruptible inheritance, shared with the most holy and pure being ever to exist - His Son. 
Considering this, it is totally reasonable that He seek to "try (our faith) with fire" that it may be found at the end, to glorify and honor this One Who gave Himself to give us Hope! And though we have never seen Him, yet we believe He has accomplished all - this belief caused (for the believers addressed here) a joy that was "unspeakable" with it's magnitude. 
Now for the personal application: I began to think on these verses, and was struck with this thought, 'When have I been so amazed and grateful for the Salvation He has given me that my joy was "unspeakable"? How often have I been speechless in the presence of such sacrifice? Not often enough. 

~

Empowering Joy 
"Then he said unto them, Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared: for this day is holy unto our Lord: neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the Lord is your strength." 
Nehemiah 8:10 

This is an interesting verse to me. The meaning of this phrase really hit me only a few days ago. I think that most people probably think - even unconsciously, like I did - that it's saying, in effect, "Be joyful, for the LORD will give you strength". But it doesn't! It says, "The joy of the LORD is your strength"! Their strength was in their Joy! It was their strength! Once I realized that, it was so neat to think of it that way, and really provided some 'food for thought'! 

~

Thoughts Of A Weary Traveler

{Note: As a Christian and/or as a human, do you ever just get tired? Below is an entry from my journal on Dec. 6, 2015, when I was really feeling it. You may or may not get some of the references, but I need to remember that day, how I felt, and how the Lord is still coming through for me. Above is a reminder I captured on the mission trip I took to Seattle this summer.}

Why is existence so hard? Is it even worth it? Every day almost, it seems, I am more and more aware of my 'stranger status' here in this foreign land. It is hard, so hard, to keep in mind the image of this tiny red mark at the tip of the earth-encircling rope. The red mark seems so long when traveling it.

I am tired, so tired. And if I, then how much more must those long in the way be?

I am in a constant resistance with discouragement, with sadness, with frustration, with anger, and with exhaustion. I seem drowning in these things, and in the utter vastness of the job before me, before all true Christians. But where are, and who are, the true Christians? I can trust no one. All are unstable. All are satisfied in their own ideas, whether Biblical or not. I am in a fight for myself, to become more the Christian that God would have me to be; I am in a fight against Satan's work in the world; and I am in a fight against Satan's work in the church.

I am swallowed up in an invisible cloud; in the center of a bubble from which I cannot escape. If I could but get out and turn around and look on it I think I would see that it is a small inky blot in a vast expanse of gloriously clear air. Like Bilbo getting to the top of the tree and seeing the butterflies above Mirkwood, yet having to descend back into the poisonous darkness, I know there is cleanness and beauty from God's view, but I struggle to keep faith in that view of Light, while I am smothering in the murky darkness.

Tonight Bro. Earl said that in the men's prayer time this afternoon, he prayed for us (Victory Rd.) to have victory in our spiritual lives, so that we may find the freedom and joy and power to live Spirit-filled lives. The timing, for me at least, is absolutely just right.

And he asked, as a challenge, that us as his Sunday night group pray this for the church as well, that a wild-fire of spiritual victory would sweep the church. Oh how it is needed!

Dust To Beauty

Spending a decent amount of time in another context is one of the most effective ways to re-set a person's perspective and help them see the world around them through refreshed and unbiased eyes.

Four days ago, I got back from such an experience - a ten-day mission trip with eight other people from Victory Rd., and a friend from another state. A total of ten of us went to a big city in the western part of the country to volunteer at a mission organization focused on ministering to the homeless and poor in that area. It was definitely an eye-opener.

I thought I was prepared. I thought I knew enough about homelessness to be able to minister with a tender heart, but also to maintain a protective skin around my feelings. I was wrong.

And maybe that was a good thing.

The mission sends out a group of staff, program guys, and volunteers every night in a big van (or two) with sandwiches, blankets, clean socks, small hygiene items (shampoo, toothbrushes and toothpaste, soap, sunscreen, etc.), something to drink (juice or hot chocolate, depending on the weather. The mission's hot chocolate is famous in the city. Some people were asking for it even when the nights were warm.), and kind hearts. There are several different routes that the vans take, and multiple stops along each route. The van parks, and a handful of the volunteers get out and walk around nearby, looking for homeless and down-trodden folks in the vicinity to send back to the van. The rest of the workers stay at the van to meet the people who come.
The big red vans and the mission's name are known and welcomed all over the city by drunks, druggies, unemployed businessmen, orphans, scarred veterans, prostitutes, and honest people who are simply 'down on their luck'. Anyone who needs a little food, a little warmth, a kind word, a listening ear, and/or the love of Christ, can find it at the hands of the mission and it's workers - many of them formerly addicted and scarred people themselves, now beautifully healed by the love of God.

Our team was privileged to go out on these nighttime-rescue trips several times. I went along for five out of the ten nights we were there in the city. The first night was heart-breaking, and almost too hard. But after the second night, I was addicted to the 'high' - the feeling of being useful, doing good, and maybe helping change some lives for the better.

Our team also helped prepare and serve the nearly-one-thousand meals the mission serves to homeless people that walk in every day just to eat (the number increases in the winter months when it's cold and harder for homeless folks to find food). In the process of meal preparations and other kitchen chores, our team worked alongside many of the men who are going through the rehab program and living there at the mission. Nothing bonds people like having to work together for a focused cause. We made some wonderful new friends.

To hear the guys in the program tell their stories, to see the depths of history in their eyes, to watch smiles bloom on gruff faces, and to learn how completely normal they are behind the tough fronts... Those were priceless moments.
One of the most impacting seconds of the trip for me was when, one day near the end of our time there, I suddenly realized that I didn't notice anymore the ponytails, the strange facial piercings, the gauges, or the tattoos - those details about our new friends that had startled me (and made me a little more nervous than I was anyway) at the beginning of the trip, had faded before the twin effects of kindness and grace. For, on our parts, it took kindness and open hearts to see past those things at first - to be able to get to know the real men behind the weird expressions. And for them, it took the grace of God to change their hearts from places of fear and slavery to places of rest, courage, and hope. Simply judging by the ten-day experience that I had working at the mission, that is what is happening there - the Lord is using that place to rescue men and give them new lives in Christ.

I thank Him that He allowed me the blessing of looking through a small ten-day window, into the beauty that is possible when His hand touches our dust.

{Note: Another post coming with pictures and more specific details of our trip.}

"And my thoughts stop there."

I went up to the trailer-house (as Dad calls it) this morning to mow the yard and do some laundry.

The house and yard have a strange air about them - a weird combination of lived in, yet abandoned. The ghosts of memories are everywhere, yet it doesn't have the melancholy old-times-that-have-been-but-will-never-be-again feeling.

If I don't get to it on Saturdays, Dad keeps the yard mowed. But the pots on the steps are a wacky display of spring flowers and weeds. My flowerbed has out-grown it's bounds and is mostly in the yard now, instead of behind it's rock border. The mint bed has long since abandoned the nice little corner where it started out and is slowly and methodically conquering the surrounding territory.
The fruit trees are nicely pruned, and two new rose bushes have been put in the front yard, tributes to Dad's dedication.

This afternoon I went back to put the clothes in the dryer, and I went through the kitchen. Pans and glasses were sitting on the counter, rinsed of food, but needing to be washed and put away. There was dust and a dead bluebottle on the windowsill, and a tiny spiderweb. Rust stains on the metal of the sink, collected around the bases of the soap dispensers. There was dust on the cabinets.

I loaded the dishwasher and washed and dried the big pieces that wouldn't go in. I wiped off the cabinets, scrubbed the sink, and cleaned out the windowsill (when I moved the little decorative teapot to wash it, the little jumping spider fell out. I left him alone). Thankfully, someone has been remembering to water the house plants.

I don't want to leave the impression that we haven't been in the house since The Grandmother got sick. We are in-and-out all the time, especially Dad, who works in the yard and goes to his study to prepare his Sunday School lessons, but we certainly have not lived there in over a year.

Sometimes, especially when I go into my room (which is a wreck from me dropping something off or picking something up without having time to properly put things away), or see my flowerbed (which desperately needs weeding and re-working), or the empty chicken coop (some varmint got the last of our chickens over Christmas break), I really miss the way things used to be. I miss living in our own trailer-house on our own land with our own animals and trees and projects, and bike rides up to visit The Grandparents in the evenings or to help The Grandmother with little projects during the day.
But I have to be careful not to miss life at our place too much, because if we lived there now, it would mean The Grandfather was gone and didn't need us any more. And my thoughts stop there. They simply freeze up - I can't think about life without The Grandparents.

The Grandfather had a stroke last week. Life has changed again, and we are again being compelled to begin figuring out a 'new normal'. He has been dependent on us. But though he could not walk, or stand for long, or brush his teeth, or dress himself, he could stand with our support and take the few steps required to transfer from one chair to another. He could lift his arms and slide them into his shirtsleeves. He could feed himself. He could speak fairly clearly. Now, he can do none of those things.

The Lord will help us with this transition into another way of life. It's just difficult, humanly, to try to think where the new strength and wisdom will come from. 

Too Tired To Dance

On Sunday mornings especially, when my are ears full and my head echoing with the soaring beauty of music and songs praising the greatness of God, or a sermon reminding of His mercy and kindness and matchless glory, I sit quiet and respectful on the pew while my heart nearly bursts with gladness, only longing to run away into the woods, find a tiny clearing, and dance with all my strength where only the sparrows, the crickets, and the Lord are watching.

Sometimes when the answer comes to a desperate prayer, when a lost soul comes home, or when a thunderstorm sweeps in with it's power of swirling wind and silver rain (to me for some reason God always feels physically closer in thunderstorms), my heart fills up and swells so big and tight inside me that nothing will relieve the pressure of praise but to dance - to pound (preferably barefoot) into the grass with my flying feet, rising on my toes, lifting my hands, ducking, twirling, flying out in joy and gratefulness and praise, while my clothes whip around me, the rain runs down my face, my soul breathes, and my mind sings, in a perfect voice, a song that only He and I can hear.

Then there are times when, no matter how grateful I am to Him, no matter how glad because of His presence, His beauty, His provision, or His kindness, I go outside and simply stand, looking at the sky. My heart is full, but it is quiet. I am physically empty.

My family lives with The Grandfather, who is handicapped and completely dependent on us. My spirit aches for him in his helplessness and grateful humility. My spirit weeps for my mom and dad who are The Grandfather's primary care-givers, and both worn thin. Even with the aide who comes in and helps occasionally, Mom is worn down under the constant grind and the lack of reprieve, but she is always patient and doesn't complain. Dad has his job, is trying to get a building project completed alone, and is having some mysterious health trouble, but is present to help and do the heaviest tasks as much as he can. My spirit goes out to Trissy who is weighed down with college classes and assignments, and trying to help alleviate mom's load as much as possible, but she keeps a constant cheerfulness and a servant's spirit.

My spirit weeps almost constantly. And sometimes my eyes too.

I am immersed in my full-time job at the academy. I love my job, but it can be physically and mentally demanding at times. I'm the secretary of course, but I'm also the school nurse, the school photographer, I sub/fill in in classrooms (sometimes with only a few minutes' notice), run a multitudinous variety of errands, our PA system is in the works so I'm the human message-carrier, I run the 'snack shop', am half the lunchroom staff, still do after-school, keep the principal's coffee cup full, etc. etc. I get back to the house tired, but there is plenty to do still to help try to alleviate the burdens of the folks at home.

My body (especially my feet, back, and head) hurts almost constantly. And sometimes my mind too.

Friday afternoon as school was getting ready to let out, a parent came in and kindly asked if I was hot - it was a very warm day and I was hurrying to get the last of my work done before ringing the bell and beginning to put kids in the cars in the pick-up line. I smiled and shook my head, 'No ma'am, I'm actually not that hot, just a little... warm, and tired.'
She nodded emphatically. 'Yes, I understand exactly. Worn - that is a great word for it.'
I realized she had misunderstood what I had said, but then I realized it was still the truth. I was worn.

Worn. Worn.

So. Between sadness, mental exhaustion, and physical emptiness, I often find myself lifting my face with tears threatening, and inwardly crying to the Lord, "Oh God! I have no strength!"

The next thought that comes to me is usually one of about three. Sometimes the verse, "He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much:..." (Luke 16:10) picks me up and helps me keep going - for oh how I want to be faithful!

Or, the thought that my 'load' is nothing compared to so many others'. Then the verse, "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small." (Proverbs 24:10). And I feel ashamed of my weakness. But then I am comforted by, "...the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak...." (Matthew 26:41).

But when I am especially tired and spent (which, I must admit, is most often), after first crying to Him, I hear a little frowning voice quote, "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small." and my soul cries out even more desperately, 'I know! My strength is small!' But then, so tenderly, "I hear the Savior say, 'Thy strength indeed is small. Child of weakness, watch and pray. Find in Me thine all in all."
I'm still tired. I'm still worn. My strength is still small. But I lean hard on Him, and the same One Whose face smiles at my dancing holds me while I weep.

He loves me the same when I'm soaring as when I'm too tired to dance.

Soli Deo Gloria! -Kyrie<>< - another 'Dear _____, Love, me' post

Dear Bro. Earl,

May God give you the energy you need and keep your courage up. I love hearing you teach. And it makes my day when you hang around in the morning after teaching your high schoolers' Bible class at the academy and discuss theology with me.


Dear Mrs. Shannen,

I know your load is heavy - may the Lord be your strength.


Dear Bro. Dennis,

You taught me so much. You were my mentor, my friend. I miss you. Please come back.


Dear Mrs. Carrie,

You're still beautiful. May the Lord truly give you the desires of your heart.


Dear Maxwell,

You are growing so fast. I've prayed for you twice as long as you've been alive, and I'm still praying for you. May God make something amazing of your life. 


Dear Austin,

I miss you and Ava so much. Your sunny friendship warms my memories. May God use you greatly where you are.


Dear Ava,

I miss you and Austin so much. What a wonderful heart shines through the wonderful smile you have. Thank you for keeping in touch with us at Victory Rd.! God bless your adventure!


Dear Aron,

I'm so proud of you for how you're striving to be a true man of God. Keep Him at the center of your precious family.


Dear Henley,

You are such a wonderful wife and mother. May the Lord bless your efforts to do what's right. Keep loving your husband, keep loving your boys. Keep experimenting!


Dear Simon,

There's still hope. Come home.


Dear Joy,

The devil wants you, but God is stronger! The little decisions you're making now are setting the stage for the rest of your life. Oh darling! The glittery pleasures that tempt teenagers are so fleeting - the glitter falls off, and years later if God grants you wisdom, you will look at them and wonder how in the world you allowed yourself to give your time and love to that naked junk. How my heart aches over you! God fight for you!


Dear Toby,

Bless your loving heart. Yes, you are human and you've made mistakes. No, I don't agree with you on everything. But I respect you so much. Let the Lord keep making you incredible.


Dear Lindy,

You are a true friend. Stay humble, but don't get too down on yourself. You're on the right track to making an excellent wife - stay Toby's best friend.


Dear Archer,

I think you've found your life's work. If that's the case, pour your whole self into it. But please be so careful - as you're cleaning, it's easy to get dirty yourself. Seek the Lord's advice in EVERYthing.


Dear Law,

Oh my precious, how can I write to you all that's in my heart? I continually praise our blessed Christ for the man He's making you into. God bless you, my dear young friend.


Dear Abigail,

Your happiness makes me happy. I can always count on you for a corny joke or a teasing jab or a tidbit of spiritual wisdom to boost my spirit. Keep singing.


Dear Piper,

I'm continually amazed at your store of patience and your depth of maturity. You still have so much to learn. God make you a great lady, my dearest girl! And don't give up your piano :) .


Dear Bro. S.,

Thank you for loving your wife and trying to raise your kids for the Lord. Thank you for your country simplicity and wisdom. Thank you for being so transparent and honest with your Sunday School class. Thank you for your friendship and for your perceptive encouragement.


Dear Mrs. S.,

Thank you for loving your husband and trying to raise your kids for the Lord. Your knack for putting people at ease and your heart of welcome are both a great example and a special gift; there is a reason everyone loves you - you love everyone.


Dear Trent,

You are growing up so well. Keep your contentment, yet yearn for more of God. Thank you for your down-to-earth country friendship. And for blessing others with your music.


Dear Peter,

I can't believe what a wonderful young man you're becoming. I mean, I can, but I've known you long enough to remember you as a little kid! You are so unconscious of your good looks, and that makes you even more handsome. Keep your sunny disposition - a joyful spirit is a blessing to the owner as well as to those around him.


Dear Trent and Peter's mom,

You are such a blessing to me. Thank you for your advice on photography, your smoothie recipes, your secretarial tips, your humility, and your sweet smile. Thank you for treating me as an equal, even though I'm so much younger.


Dear Lela,

Are you happy? True happiness comes from joy in Christ. Don't waste your life. Btw, I miss you. Remember Chicago?


Dear Mrs. Renae,

I'm so thankful the Lord has allowed us to stay in touch. He is stronger than anything fighting you!


Dear Nicole,

What can I say? There's only one Nicole. Am I still 'one of your best friends'? May the Lord grow you into the woman He wants you to be - don't resist the changes He wants to make.


Dear Russell,

You have the gift of a joyful spirit - what a blessing you are to so many! Use your talent for the glory of God - don't let the bright lights blind you.


Dear Lora, Lindsay, Dolan, and Randy,

I have no idea what happened to you. But I know the One who does. I trust that He is watching out for you. I loved you.


My Dear Brown-Eyed Boy,

Wherever you are, God keep you.


Dear Bro. Mike, Bro. Mike's wife, and Camille,

I'm so thankful for the amazing adventure the Lord is allowing you to live! Don't wait too long to come back for a visit though - it's been so long since that last hug.


Dear Bro. Nick and Lydia,

I'm praying for you.


My Dear Dr. Pepper Kids,

Oh how I hope and pray that you will give yourselves to the Lord! You aren't kids anymore, but a young man and two young women. If you start now with Christ while you're young, life will be better - trust me.


Dear Trissy,

I love you.


Dear others-I'd-wanted-to-include-a-note-to-in-this-post,

I am so sorry, but it's 11:00 P.M. and I've got to be at work right after 7:00 tomorrow morning - I've got to go to bed. But that doesn't change the fact that I love you and hope you will love the Lord. Maybe I can write later.

Most of the others I actually have written will never see their notes. But I needed to write them.


Soli Deo Gloria!

-Kyrie<><

The Sky-Painter

I had to go to work early this morning ('early', meaning I had to be there by 7:00 A. M.), and on the way, I got to see the beginning of the sunrise. 

I like sunrises much more than sunsets. I've seen lots more sunsets, but they always strike me as a little sad - an ending of something. I love nighttime, but I don't like sunsets; they just seem melancholy somehow. Sunrises seem happier - a beginning. 

But even though I'm an early riser, I usually don't watch the sun get up. 

 

The one this morning was fantastic. I was speechless as I drove, wanting to stare, yet not wanting to run off the road. The clouds made a heavy slate-blue roof below the sky. But like a lid on a pot, not quite closed, there was a wide crack on the horizon. And through the crack, between the tops of the far-off trees and the cloudy lid, was a blinding display of gold. I can't describe it without sounding cliche. How do people usually describe sunrises or sunsets?! 'Pink and purple and orange and gold and clouds and streaks and sun'. But those words are so pitiful. I won't even try. But trust me, people have paid good money to see things that couldn't begin to compare to this free display of art and glory. 

Free. Every morning. But how many people get up early to watch the sun rise? How many sunrises have 'gone to waste' so to speak? How many beyond-amazing ones has the Lord made, not because someone's watching, but 'just because'? Just because He's scheduled the sun to start the day. 

 

Every morning He makes one. And how many have been appreciated? Lots, maybe. But not a majority, and certainly not all of them! Yet He keeps making them, every morning, quietly, no fuss, no irritation if no one congratulates Him on their beauty; they're just there for anyone who would like to enjoy them. And then they fade, and are never seen again. Each art piece an original, a one-of-a-kind, and the mold broken. 

Famous artists' work is insured for up to millions of dollars. And most of it is pathetic in comparison to what is available for our enjoyment every day, no charge.

 

Suddenly, the analogy hit me in the face. The answer to a recent personal struggle, literally displayed for me in the sky.

How much unnoticed, unappreciated work am I willing to do? Am I willing to do what's right even if I'm so tired it feels like the weight of my bones is separating them from each other, go the extra mile to lighten a friend's load when my load is crushing me, or deny myself something I'd like so that someone else can enjoy it? Even if no one cares? Gives me credit or a pat on the back? Or worst of all, if no one even knows that I've sacrificed?

How could I not be willing? He paints the sky for me. He can give me strength, if I will just ask for it. 

Oh God give me strength!

[Mostly] Work-related Relationship Struggles

Well, the first week of school is 'in the books', and with it my first week as VRCA's new secretary. I really enjoyed the work, yet the end of the week has left me feeling hesitant, unsure, and discouraged.

I don't accept praise easily. Something always tells me, "They feel like they have to say that," "They're just being polite," or "They don't really know what they're talking about - even if I did a little 'something' right, I still didn't do good enough".
But criticism (or perceived criticism) soaks me through, even penetrating to the hollow places inside my bones and filling them up - becoming part of who I am.

Condescension is the hardest to deal with. As if I'm too naive, sheltered, inexperienced, immature, out-of-step, or weak to handle [fill in the blank] situation.
If I'm doing something wrong, I'd much rather someone come to me kindly and frankly about it, than bottle up their amusement or frustration and just emit a fake politeness that I can see right through but can't discern the cause of!

A dubious once-over from a few different parents looms up bigger in my memories from the week than the respectful, confident treatment from a couple of others.

The skeptical, silent mannerisms of one or two teachers drowns out the friendly, eager mannerisms of others.

Working in my cubicle and hearing three school officials having a discussion in low voices, and thinking surely they must be discussing my mistakes, shakes and discourages me, in spite of the reassurances they've expressed.

Maybe the parents didn't realize they looked so critical. Maybe they weren't critical!
Maybe the quiet teachers are just naturally undemonstrative and calm. Maybe it has nothing to do with me.
Maybe the three officials were discussing an issue with a student, or a parent, or a teacher, or someone not even connected to the school, and just didn't want any little ears that might be out to catch the confidential things they were consulting about. Maybe my mistakes and slow learning don't bother them at all.

Yet, having grown up in the shadow of others' natural shine, and having always felt that I was a disappointment to certain ones over me, it's hard for me to brush off either real or imagined disdain from others.

So, all in all, and considering other challenges and difficulties of my current life situation, I ended up Friday pretty 'down'.

Last night I sat down and wrote the Lord a letter; just poured out all my struggles and sorrow and bitterness and vulnerability to Him. I've heard that writing is just 'sitting down at a typewriter and bleeding'. It sounds really weird, but I completely understand the analogy. I sat down at the computer and 'bled' in front of my loving, forgiving, understanding, wonderful God. And He came through, just as He always does.

This post is a next-morning view of the situation. I'm still struggling between confidence and insecurity about this new job, and about my relationships with people in general. But things are brighter. And as He's helped me through my life up until this point, so I know He will continue.

A Stranger's Kindness

Even a stranger's kindness to another stranger may be a blessing.

A rather shabby-looking man came to the restaurant today. His reddish hair was unkempt, long past his shoulders, and touched with gray. His faded blue eyes were numb and expressionless, he looked like he hadn't shaved in several days, and his shoulders were stooped. He wore a coat, even in the seventy-degree weather, and carried two heavy-looking bags. It appeared that they carried everything he owned.
After placing his order, he sat at one of the tables and sorted through his bags, pulling out empty styrofoam cups, paper, and other trash. He put the trash in the big garbage can at the side of the patio, went back to his table and neatly arranged his bags, then sat gazing into space until his food was ready.
There were only two other people there eating, two women together, neither of them rich-looking, but well-groomed and generally respectable in appearance. As they got up to leave, one stopped to speak to the man. I stiffened, watching defensively. With her fashionable hairstyle and big sunglasses, she looked like the judgmental type. Was she going to fuss at him? Ask him to leave? I had no idea who this guy was, but it both hurt and angered me to think of how some people criticize poor or homeless people, just because they're poor.
But the woman only talked to him for a few minutes, motioning, and he nodded and answered. The woman rejoined her friend and they left, and he continued with his meal.
After a little while, another woman, about middle-aged, with graying hair but dressed and carrying herself well, got out of her car where she'd gone to eat. She walked across the patio (giving the man a small glance as she passed his table) to put her burger wrapper and bag in the garbage can. But when she turned and started to pass him again going back, she paused and leaned towards him on the table. I saw her slip a folded bill into his hand before saying something with a kind smile and then going back to her car. She had obviously noticed him and been planning to do that.
He took it and said something without changing his expression, then went on eating after she'd left. Maybe he was used to people feeling sorry for him. Maybe he just thought that woman was another do-gooder trying to do her act of kindess for the day. And maybe that's the way it was. But maybe not. There was no one else out on the patio to see her good deed, and I was behind a reflective window, so even if she'd have looked, she wouldn't have seen me watching.
But whether that lady's kindess intended to make herself look or feel good, or whether it came from a genuine heart of compassion and pure motives, and whether it blessed that man or not, it sure blessed me.

Someone is always watching. What you do, how you act, where you go, what you say. And sometimes the people you think you are affecting are not the ones you actually are. Every life, and how it is lived, has an impact on others.

"...so that thy youth is renewed..." Psalm 103:5

Assorted [unedited] photos from the past week, including flowers in The Grandparents' yard, the look down from the top of the metal outside stairs going up to the youth room at church, Law's "Dora", Abigail making a snail with her hands, our cat "Murphy", sunrise this morning, moss, and the ornamental pear trees at Victory Rd. I've been taking lots of flower and other outdoor photos - Spring is definitely on it's way around here.

With the past week in mind, I'd like to share here a poem that Bro. Earl quoted from in his sermon this evening.

"Many crowd the Savior's kingdom,
Few receive His cross;
Many seek His consolation,
Few will suffer loss.
For the dear sake of the Master,
Counting all but dross.

Many sit at Jesus' table,
Few will fast with Him,
When the sorrow-cup of anguish
Trembles to the brim.
Few watch with Him in the garden,
Who have sung the hymn.

Many will confess His wisdom,
Few embrace His shame.
Many, should He smile upon them,
Will His praise proclaim;
Then, if for a while He leave them,
They desert His name.

But the souls who love Him truly,
Let woe come or bliss,
These will count their dearest hearts' blood
Not their own, but His.
Savior, Thou who thus hast loved me,
Give me love like this."

-Amy Carmichael

The past week has been an emotional one, internally. And externally, I suppose, when I'm alone, just the Lord and me.

A little over a week ago (Friday, Feb. 28) Uncle Alvin's family came to visit for a couple of days. Jaylyn and Jewel had seen a mutual friend a couple of days before, and told Trissy and me that she had asked them to pray for one of her friends. He had been out chopping trees in the woods by himself when one hit him in the head. He had been found four hours later, and now he was in the hospital.
We don't know the boy personally (just know of him) and, though it certainly didn't sound like a mere stick-a-band-aid-on-it kind of accident, I must confess that I wasn't struck by the enormity I now realize the situation possessed. I simply received the information, expressed my surprise and sympathy, may have said a prayer, and moved on. How sad. How typical - Christians, who have the indescribable privilege of speaking with God, are so often presented with others' needs, and then neglect to excercise that awesome gift on behalf of the hurting.

This past Tuesday, Mar. 4th, I received an e-mail from that mutual friend. It was a prayer request, sent out to most of her address book, I imagine. It was about T. R., her young friend.
The e-mail gave a few details of the accident and his recent progress toward recovery, then told that he'd taken a bad turn and they were trying new things to help him. It still didn't really hit me until this sentence:
"The doctors really don't know if he will make it or not, but we serve a mighty God who can heal him if it's His will!"
The doctors really don't know if he will make it or not...
I read that, and it hit me; and the impact of it was like getting kicked in the stomach. This kid is seventeen years old, people! Seventeen!! And he 'might not make it'.
Praise the Lord, this boy knows Christ as his Savior. If he dies, it will be his gain. But for those left behind... What a tremendous, unspeakable loss.

I have never prayed for healing quite like I have this past week. I've prayed for healing for adults, people close and dear to me who have already lived long, healthy, God-honoring lives, and have had a life to look back on with contentment. I've prayed that children would be granted to precious friends who had none. I've prayed for confused young Christians trying to find their way. I've prayed for the salvation of souls who I knew did not know Christ. And I've prayed for people in all of these situations with a passion and desperation and love that was so strong I often wondered that I did not explode with it.
But I've never prayed prayers for the life-or-death situation of a seventeen-year-old Christian boy.

I don't even really know T. R. I was at a youth camp five years ago, and he was there as well. He was one of the youngest campers, I was one of the oldest. We didn't really hang out together! I did notice that sharp little twelve-year-old, observing that he was packed with the potential to become a great man one day. My family goes way back with people that know him (like the family of the young lady who asked our family to pray for him), and occasionally through the years I've heard something about him, always in a good light. But he's not even my friend - I don't even know him.

Yet I have found my prayers and thoughts for him this week to be made of the same passion and desperation and love that they have for people very close and/or important to me. What causes the Lord to choose certain people for certain burdens, I don't know. But when He has chosen, you know it!

I have been praying that the Lord would spare his life. That He would heal him, and give him back all the health and mobility that he had before the accident. I've been praying that the Lord would give him a long and great life of ministry and service for Christ, and that this accident would somehow be used to lead many people to the Lord. At first I prayed also that the Lord's will would be done, even if it meant taking him Home. As the week has gone on, with natural human difficulty that part's become harder.

I got that gut-wrenching e-mail Tuesday. Wednesday morning, after dreaming about the situation, I woke up with the old song "What A Mighty God We Serve" going through my head. Haven't thought of that song in ages. Can't just be coincidence.

Two nights ago (Friday), there was some good news. The young lady sends out updates as she gets them, and I got a message saying that his blood pressure was back to normal and he was more stable.
Last night (Saturday), he was worse. Haven't heard anything today.

I'm reading through the Bible this year, and Friday morning I read 1 Samuel 2. The first chapter is about Samuel's mother, Hannah, her desire and prayer for a son, and the Lord granting her prayer. Chapter two is her prayer/song of praise to the Lord. So, with that backdrop in mind, when I read verse six of chapter two, it didn't particularly catch my attention. Until, for some reason, I went back and read it again. And the glory of it blew my mind.

"The Lord killeth, and maketh alive: He bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up."

The Lord brought T. R. down, oh so very low - and if He chooses, He can bring him back up. That verse was such a strength all Friday. And then that hopeful message Friday night...

This morning, after last night's discouraging message, I was thinking of how hard it must be for his family. How heart-breaking. I know very little about the details of the situation, only what my friend's messages tell, and those are pretty slim updates. But if he's still in ICU, which is quite probable, his family may not even be getting to stay with him. They've got a son, a brother, a friend, hanging between life and death, and they are powerless. What heart-break indeed!

It came into my head to look up verses about how the Lord feels toward the hurting, and how He feels about healing. I didn't have alot of time before we had to leave for church, but these were the four I found right off.

"The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." Psalm 34:18

"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." Psalm 147:3 (How appropriate!!)

"...I am the Lord that healeth thee." last part of Exodus 15:26

"...Who healeth all thy diseases;" last part of Ps. 103:3

I jotted the references down on a scrap of paper and stuck it in my Bible as we hurried out the door on our way to church, thinking I might get a chance to look them up and study them a little more between services or something.

Every Sunday morning during the music part of the service, one of the men of the church reads a verse or passage between songs. Today was Dad's turn. He also teaches a Sunday School class, and confessed that he hadn't had a chance yet to get a scripture passage picked out. With my little list in the front of my Bible, I eagerly asked if he wanted a suggestion. He gladly asked me to read him one.
I randomly picked the Ps. 103 one, but knowing that that verse was the middle of a thought, I started at the first verse of the chapter and just started reading. And when I stopped after reading through verse five, I almost didn't hear Dad say thanks or that the selection was "...just right!" - I was stunned by what I'm sure was the providence of the Lord.

"Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits:
Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; 
Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;
Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's." (Ps. 103:1-5)

Begin with praise, for whatever the almighty God does is right. Remember the power with which He has answered in the past. He's the one that forgives sin. He's the one that heals. He's the one that rescues life from destruction. He is the tender love and compassion that makes life good. He is the only one that satisfies. He is the one that renews youth.

Wow. Just... Wow.

Tonight, in his sermon, Bro. Earl used part of that poem I included above. So true, so good, all of it. But, thinking of T. R., the last stanza caught me, and both conviction and human pain hurt deep down in my heart.

"But the souls who love Him truly,
Let woe come or bliss,
These will count their dearest hearts' blood
Not their own, but His.
Savior, Thou who thus hast loved me,
Give me love like this."

Love enough to hold all He has given, with an open hand. Love enough to love Him whether heart-break or healing. Love enough to release the most priceless gift from Him, back to Him. Love enough to love like He loves.

I don't know what the Lord will choose to do for this young man. Whatever it is, it will be right, for it will be what He chooses.

It's almost midnight. I'd better go to bed. Soli Deo Gloria!

-Kyrie<><

Confession

I've been in something of a fog for the past couple of weeks or so. I lose control at the drop of a hat. I have no patience with any of my family. They irritate and annoy me and I seem powerless to stop the frowns and sharp retorts and bad attitudes that I react with. I feel like giving up - I can't seem to make any headway. I know the Lord will/can help me, for He has in the past.
I've gotten a grip on it for a few days, or even a few weeks, but I just can't lick it. Right now all I can see is the mist, and the loudest voice is the one saying, 'Give up. You'll never beat this. You'll never win.'
Maybe I never will.
Even Victory Rd.... The points of light are like tiny pin-pricks in the fog, far away.
But! There are those points of light.

Broken Trust, And Love's Responsibility

So it's Valentine's right? And Valentine's is about love, right?
In the process of cleaning/straightening the house this afternoon, I set about changing the 'art' on our chalkboard in the kitchen/dining area (it still said "Happy New Year!") to something appropriate for the week before Valentine's Day. I'm not great with chalkboard art, so decided on something simple: "Love one another" from John 13:34 and 35.

I got the design started, but inspiration was lagging and it was time to go out and feed the animals anyway, so I took a break to go do that.

Now, bear with me while I try to get to where I'm going with this.

I am not naturally a trusting person. I don't trust people easily. I love them, very much. But I don't trust them, very much. And add to that the facts that some people in my life who are naturally supposed to be able to be trusted have broken my trust, and that a couple of times I've thought I'd found someone who really was trust-worthy, but who ended up 'letting me down' or proving themselves non-trustworthy...
Yeah, I don't trust easily.

So, I went out to feed the animals. It is cold and rainy - not a very pleasant evening, weather-wise - and I have a pestering headache. All-in-all, I was feeling a little 'down' anyway. And then, as I walked the path to our chicken coop, suddenly I was (ironically) slapped in the face by yet another broken promise.
And though in the broad scheme of life and the stretching years that make it up, this thing is rather insignificant, yet I was almost overcome by re-broken trust, betrayal, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

I stumbled on in a daze of disbelief, automatically feeding the chickens, gathering eggs, replacing the feed bucket, shutting up the shed, and plodding back to the house through the cold drizzle, all the while mentally (and actually audibly as well - Dad, Mom, and Trissy were gone for a little while and I was alone) berrating the promise-maker/promise-breaker. Not vengefully, yet not altogether forgiving, either. I contemplated what their reaction might be if they were suddenly bereft of years of labor - if suddenly something was blown out in a moment that had taken over a decade to accomplish - especially if it was destroyed by one who had promised to protect it.

The senses of loss and betrayal were so overwhelming that I actually gave in to the sobs that ached to be released. I was by myself, there was no one to hear, so I didn't have to put on a 'brave face' and pretend I'm not as weak as I am; though I'm telling all of you this, so I guess a brave face isn't so important after all. I don't know. All I know is that I was completely dumbfounded and broken - betrayed (again) by someone who should have been trustworthy.
And they wonder why I don't trust them.

Angry and crying (I'm sure my picture must have looked very childish and undignified), I cleaned my shoes, hung up my jacket in the mudroom, and trudged into the house through the back door. There on the wall, half-finished, was my chalkboard art:

"Love one another."

Immediately, another verse blew gently across the troubled frown in my mind:

'Love covers a multitude of sins.' (1 Peter 4:8)

I burst into fresh tears at the gentle correction of the Lord.
Yes, I had been wronged. Yes, someone had sinned against me. Yes, I must (and do) love them anyway. And yes, because of Love, my responsibility is to cover/hide/forgive and - as much as is in my human power - dismiss from my memory the unkindness they had shown, the promise they had broken, the trust they had once again betrayed.

There may never be a human I will or can fully trust, but I am becoming more and more okay with that. Because the more un-trustworthy mankind proves itself to me, the stronger and more trustworthy I find my Christ!

The Voice Of Truth

"Oh what I would do to have
the kind of strength it takes to stand before a giant!
With just a sling and a stone.
Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors
shaking in their armor, 

wishing they'd have had the strength to stand.

... the stone was just the right size
to put the giant on the ground.
And the waves they don't seem so high,
from on top of them looking down.
I'll soar with the wings of eagles,
when I stop and listen to the sound of Jesus
singing over me.

And the Voice of Truth tells me a different story.

The Voice of Truth says, 'Do not be afraid!'

The Voice of Truth says, 'This is for My glory.'

Out of all the voices calling out to me,

I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth."

Random photos from the past two months.

Today I overheard bits of a conversation between Aron, Simon, and Joy's mom and another co-worker (she works as a cook at the restaurant) and how sad and discouraged she is about Simon. I saw Mrs. Renae briefly when she came to pick up her youngest daughter from the academy this afternoon. And I saw 'my brown-eyed boy' when he came to pick up his two younger brothers.

On the way back to the house after leaving town, I cried harder than I've cried since all that heartbreak last year. Simon and 'my brown-eyed boy' - how far away they've gone from the Lord and from those who love them! Dear God! Only You can get hold of them, get their attention, or bring them back now!

I've gotten in the habit of turning on the radio on my drives to and from town, and this song ("The Voice of Truth") came on the station. It was just the comfort and reminder I needed. He is in control! He has my boys! He has Mrs. Renae! And He is working it all out for His glory.