Lesson Four: Learning to Behold

A dense, white fog envelops my house this morning.  I can barely see my neighbor’s house across the way.  The rooms inside light up with the reflection of pure white, much as they did last February when the neighborhood was blanketed with ice and snow.

And this morning my devotional guides me to the book of Luke. . . the road to Emmaus.  How the men’s eyes were shrouded and they didn’t even know with whom they spoke.  How it wasn’t until Jesus picked up the bread and broke it and gave thanks.  Then suddenly their eyes were opened and they understood.

Life is so like this fog.  Visibility is low.  Sometimes it feels closed in and lonely.  Yet there is a glimpse here and there of something beyond this cloud that surrounds me.  This fog is my shroud, blinding me to the glory all around me.

Lord, open my eyes to see your wonder.  Lift the veil and fine tune my spirit vision.  It is in giving thanks that I begin to behold.  Teach me to give thanks in all circumstances, for this is Your will for me.

Thank You for allowing me to be a player in the greatest story of all time.  I am overwhelmed by your grace.  For mine is not just a bit part.  I have been cast as the King’s daughter. . .luckiest among women!  Not only am I chosen, but the great Playwright himself wrote the part with me in mind.  I am Esther, chosen by God to play this role for such a time as this.  Let me play my part as one worthy of my calling.  Let my eyes be ever focused upward.

To God be the glory.

Lesson Three: Bunnies, Beat-up Cars and Bad Attitudes

Last week wasn't so great.  I brought John home from preschool on Wednesday and he went out back to play. . . only to come inside a few minutes later to announce that he'd "found two animals" that made a squeaking noise when he picked them up.  I went outside and discovered two tiny baby bunnies, eyes still closed.  One was injured, thanks to the dog, but the other seemed fine and both were still alive.  I went into crisis mode.  It was time to pick Sara up from school, but I scooped those babies into a shoe box, buckled John in and called the vet from the van.  The vet said she couldn't help, but directed me to a wildlife rescue organization.

Thus began the bunny ordeal.  I spent the rest of the afternoon literally driving across two counties to try and save two baby cottontails.  I just felt sure it was the right thing to do.  I didn't want them to die, and I wanted to teach the kids a lesson in humanity. 

Finally I arrived at my destination. . . the home of a "rabbit rescue" volunteer. . . with three out of four kids in tow.  The kids had prayed for the bunnies on the way there.

I was met by a woman with a scowl on her face, who scowled even more when she saw three young children get out of the van.  The kids went inside with me, and while I really thought they behaved fairly well, this woman obviously did not.  My kids are young, energetic and curious. . . so put them in a room full of animals and, well, they will be kids.  The woman frowned and corrected them constantly for the entire 3-4 minutes we were in the room.  I couldn't get out of there fast enough.  I "apologized" for myself by muttering something to her as I walked out about Travis being autistic.  But I was embarassed and just wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

I was mean to the kids on the way home.  When we got home I found two more bunnies in the back yard, both dead.  I cried for a couple of hours that evening.  I thought it was because of the bunnies. . . but it wasn't.  It was because I was embarassed.  That's why I was mean to the kids.  Why couldn't my children just be perfect angels all the time?  Then no one would scowl at me or look down on me or judge me because of their behavior.  In my embarassment, it just didn't dawn on me until later that the person with the problem was the grumpy lady. . . not me. . . or my kids.

I think about a woman I see up at Sara's school sometimes.  I've never spoken to her.  I just see her driving in her beat-up old car.  She zipped past me one day, speeding through the school zone (ironic for me, huh?) and honking her horn at somebody who got in her way.  As she passed me I checked out her bumper sticker. . . something about being born again.  She may be born again, but she drives that beat-up car like the rabbit lady wears her scowl.  It's like a big sign that says, "Don't mess with me." 

In total contrast, there's a crossing guard at Travis's school who stands at the corner and waves to the cars driving by in the morning.  She always has a smile on her face and she waves at everybody. . . whether they acknowledge her or not.  One morning as we drove by I told the kids, "She's a Christian."  "How do you know, Mom?" Kyle asked.  "Because," I replied, "nobody smiles that much every day unless they know Jesus."

Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe she doesn't know Jesus.  But that woman lights up my day.  I've got a feeling that we've got a certain Savior in common.  I know I'd sure rather run into her over Beat-up Car Lady or Grumpy Rabbit Lady any day!

What do my face and my attitude say about me?  Do I smile or frown my way through life?  Can people look at me and tell that there's something different?  A good something?  Do my eyes light up when I talk to people?  Do I seem excited about life?  Am I compassionate and understanding?

Or do I frown and gripe my way through the day?  Does my face condemn people?  The way the Rabbit Lady condemned me and my children just with a look?

Bad things will happen.  A few really bad things, some simply unfortunate things, and lots of irritating things.  How will I react?  What will my attitude be?  Who is my example?

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus. . . " (Philippians 2:5)

"Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life. . . " (Philippians 2:14-16)

It's easier to be mean than it is to be nice.  It's easy to be selfish and negative and to go through life with a sour attitude.  It's easy to be irritated by everything and make sure everyone knows it.

Lord, please help me not to take the easy way out.  Fill me with Your Spirit, that I might shine like a star in this crooked and depraved world.  Renew my mind and give me the attitude of Christ.  Help me to smile. . . especially at those closest to me. . . the ones who see me scowl the most.  Lift my burden.  Lighten my heart.  Let me be glad.

Lesson Two: The Danger of Distraction

Will I never learn?  I got a speeding ticket this morning.  On the way to school.  For speeding through a school zone!  I was at it again. . . multitasking.  Quizzing my daughter on her spelling words as I rambled down a too-familiar stretch of road that I drive on a daily basis. 

I told the officer that I'm a mother of four, that I NEVER speed through school zones (which obviously is no longer true), and that it was my kids who were distracting me. . . and that I was very, very sorry.  Then I looked up at him with my sad, teary eyes.  (That always works with my husband.)  The officer said, "Please slow down, ma'am," and handed me my citation.  Despite my obvious pleas for mercy, I received my penalty. 

I wasn't sure whether to be heartbroken or just mad about the injustice of it all.  After all, I am a decent, law-abiding citizen 99.9% of the time.  I'm responsible.  I vote.  I recycle.  I turn my library books in on time.  I even deposit my empty popcorn bag in the trash can at the movie theater!  And I usually feel completely justified in looking down on those who don't!

And yet here I am, with a ticket. . . a penalty.  Because of one little technicality.  A little rule about how fast a person ought to drive on a certain stretch of road at a certain time of day.  Even when she's overwhelmed, exhausted and completely distracted.  It wasn't really even my fault, right?  He totally should have cut me some slack.

And then I read, "For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it."  (James 2:10)  Ouch!  That pesky James, always pointing out the blatant truth without one ounce of sugar-coating. 

So I guess I'm really not a law-abiding citizen after all.

It's easy for me to downplay my sins, my shortcomings, the reality of my depraved nature.  I fool myself into thinking I'm, mmmm, decent.  But the truth is there is "no one righteous, not even one." (Romans 3:10)  My default setting is sin.  So when I'm distracted and turn myself to auto-pilot, I mess up.  Just like I messed up and went coasting through a school zone at 38 miles per hour.  I guess that's why Peter says to be "self controlled and alert." (1 Peter 5:8)  I'm pretty sure Peter was well-acquainted with his own default setting when he wrote that!

Lord, let me never be so smug that I lean on my own understanding, trust in my own "goodness," or cruise through life on spiritual auto-pilot.  I have a keen enemy, who is prowling and waiting for such an opportunity.

And thanks be to God, who offered His only Son as payment for my penalty--both for my willful sins, and the ones I commit when I forget to pay attention.  I no longer have that stamp of "guilty" on my forehead. . . He washed it clean away.

Now if I could just find someone to pay the fine on my speeding ticket!

 

Lesson One

Just do it.  Sit down at the computer and write.  I've been talking about it for years now, so I guess there's no time like the present.  My head is full of all these thoughts and stories. . . it's about time I put them in writing.

This is a summer of hummingbirds.  It's surprising, since we are in the middle of a record drought and heatwave and all the plants are struggling just to stay alive.  Blooms are scarce.  And yet, there they are, those gorgeous hummingbirds, almost every time I walk out or even look out my kitchen window.  Buzzing about, flitting happily from bloom to bloom. 

Last week I went out into the garage and found one trapped in there.  The garage door was open, but the poor little hummingbird kept flying back and forth, perching temporarily on the garage door rails near the ceiling.  It seemed he didn't realize that he needed to fly just a little lower in order to escape.  I called my oldest to the garage to see.  In a near panic, he informed me that the hummingbird would die if he didn't get out because hummingbirds need to eat constantly in order to sustain their high metabolism.  (Wisdom gained from watching a nature show on TV, my oldest sucks in knowledge like a sponge and is armed with an endless collection of random facts.)  We rigged up a leaky plastic hummingbird feeder and hung it from the garage door, hoping to lure the hummingbird back to the open sky.  It must have worked, because when we went out later he was gone.

He just had to go lower.  It reminded me of a chapter in Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts.  Love that book.  Life-changing it was for me when I read it.  Completely turned my perspective on life upside down.  And chapter nine is simply entitled, "go lower."  Because in God's economy, the way up is always down.  Humility is the path to gratitude and joy.  In order to soar to new heights, we must first go lower.

Instead, I often flutter unneccesarily back and forth. . . like that sweet hummingbird.  I can see the sky, but I can't figure out how to get to it.  Go lower. 

Lord, how I need Your grace.  Cleanse me of this pride and self-reliance that are so rampant in me.  Teach me humility.  Teach me to serve.  To literally be "down-to-earth," not squeamish of dirtying my hands with the work You would have me do.  Not afraid to let go of my own agenda.  Help me to follow Your way. . . to go lower. . . to fly.