 I'll admit I have my share of unreasonable fears: heights, speed, snakes, just to name a few. I carry my share of emotional baggage, too, that leads to fears like fear of failure. Who among us is free of faults? In light of my fears and failures, I wonder if God keeps checklists for our perfect mates. If He does, He certainly went out of His way to ensure I married the man perfectly suited to me. I love Tom to absolute distraction; he brings out the best in me.Then there are other times . . .  When Tom, James, and I took a tour of Western Europe several years ago, Mary said her dad must be the only person to come back thinner. French pastries and Italian delicacies held no charms for Tom. Thank goodness we'd taken along granola bars. I'm not saying Tom's a finicky eater. but he's afraid to try anything new. Okay, almost anything. And Dear Reader, sometimes it drives me a little crazy. For years, it seemed like shortly after we found a restaurant we liked, it closed, burn to the ground, or was ruined by flood. I'm not joking. If that wasn't bad enough, Tom seemed mired in mourning their losses instead of discovering new restaurants we might like.  And don't even get me started on tv shows or clothes. If there's a John Wayne western, MacGyver, or M.A.S.H. on, he's there. And probably wearing the same thing he did when they originally came out decades ago. Foods, restaurants, tv shows, clothing styles . . . Seriously, sometimes I think I married a coward. And then I remember.  I remember how brave he's been through the losses of children, siblings, parents, friends, letting me scream and bawl until I was spent, mindless of his grief. I think about the times he's followed me into crazy: going back to college when we could barely pay our bills; uprooting our family to move across the state to follow my dream; believing in my calling enough to invest time and money into my journey. A new dessert, a different style of shirt, oh Dear Reader, how petty my heart and mind are sometimes. And how ungrateful! I frequently tell Tom that I wouldn't want to be married to me, and it's true. This frail flesh is so selfish and demanding. But Tom loves me anyway, and perhaps that's the bravest thing he's ever done. May God who gives patience, steadiness, and encouragement help you to live in complete harmony with each other—each with the attitude of Christ toward the other. Dear Reader, Tom's love for me is the second best gift he's given me. The absolute best gift is the model of unconditional love that gives me a glimpse of the Father's love for each of us.   Dear Reader, thank you for joining me on the road to the cross. My heart leaps to share the old, old story that remains new. Please accept my humble accounting of the treacherous path Jesus and His followers took to the cross, and gloriously beyond. *********************************************************** I saw Him. I touched the nail holes in His hands, touched the wound in His side. 26 Eight days later, his disciples were again in the room. This time Thomas was with them. Jesus came through the locked doors, stood among them, and said, “Peace to you.” He traded my arrogance, my skepticism for peace and acceptance. He gave me hope. And yet, we seemed to be drawn back to the water? Were we reckless? Perhaps searching for the familiar when everything around us seemed to have turned upside down, and inside out?  2 Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathan′a-el of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zeb′edee, and two others of his disciples were together. 3 Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat; but that night they caught nothing. How fruitless our labors! A full night of exhausting work, and for what? Is the Master still trying to teach us? Is our work for nothing unless He is the center of it? 4 Early the next morning Jesus stood on the shore. But the followers did not know that it was Jesus. 5 Then he said to them, “Friends, have you caught any fish?” Peter and Andrew still talk about another day when they went fishing. The day the Master called them.
My spirit mourns for not believing, and leaps at the Savior's forgiveness and provision. Just as our Heavenly Father assured Joshua when our fathers stood on the edge of the Promised Land, our Savior beckons us to more. Are we standing on the verge of a new Promised Land? "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; be not frightened, neither be dismayed; for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” He has not left us afraid, or hungry. Our Master has provided all we may ever need. 12 Jesus said to them, “Come and eat.” None of the followers dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them. He also gave them the fish.  Join the psalmist and me, starting May 1, as we pursue praise amidst persecution, peril, and perseverance.  I've become very spoiled in the kitchen. Cooking and dishes are definitely not high on my list of priorities these days. Once in a while there are pots and pans that need the kind of attention a dishwasher can't provide. Yikes! Thankfully, Tom usually does the scrubbing. I've regaled you with how much I enjoy my morning oatmeal,nuts and all. Unfortunately, healthy habits can come with a price, like scraping the bottom of the pan. I love my oatmeal, but honestly, I think the slime it leaves could be used as wallpaper paste. This is one pan Tom chooses to leave to me. Thanks to John Maxwell, I've come to appreciate my silly systems. Systems like letting the oatmeal pan soak before scraping or scrubbing. I think God, perhaps, is a systems guy, probably the creator of systems. He certainly has a plan for seeking and saving His children. Look at it this way. If someone has a hundred sheep and one of them wanders off, doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine and go after the one? And if he finds it, doesn’t he make far more over it than over the ninety-nine who stay put? Your Father in heaven feels the same way. He doesn’t want to lose even one of these simple believers.  There seems to be nothing more important to the Lord than bringing each of His sheep into the fold. That's you and me, Dear Reader! From time everlasting, God had made a choice and created a system to make that happen. God chose to give His creatures free will. He knew it came with dangers to us and potential rejection of Him. Which of us doesn't have regrets over a choice we wish we had made differently? How often have our choices broken God's heart? All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all. But God loves all of His children, no matter what our choices are, no matter how deep, how stuck, how stubbornly we cling to the bottom of the pan. Sometimes God's system includes soaking us in His warm, soothing love. Other times, He nudges us to remove stains of sin from our lives. And if He absolutely has to, if the stains are so deep that the pan is no longer serviceable, He pulls out the steel wool. Our Heavenly Father would rather inflict the temporary pain of a stiff scraping and scrubbing than throw us in the trash.  God knows scraping the sin from our lives can be a painful process. He also knows we can't do it ourselves. Giving us free will can mean rejecting His help, so He developed a system to get us into the dishwater. God sent His only Son to take our sins on Himself, to be scraped clean so our original value is reclaimed. Our value to ourselves and others. Our value to God doesn't change, He loves us from the beginning, through the middle, no matter how messy or stained, until the very end. In His wisdom, He understands that if we don't recognize and accept our personal value to Him, it will remain a challenge to choose Him. We must be made clean. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek thy servant, for I do not forget thy commandments. Dear Reader, have you experienced the suds, or maybe the scraping, of the Lord lately? I don't know about you, but sometimes the cleanliness of His grace makes me cling even tighter to that which needs to be scrubbed away. How do you get out of the sink? How do you regain your personal sense of value, and reclaim your position as a child of the King?   Dear Reader, thank you for joining me on the road to the cross. My heart leaps to share the old, old story that remains new. Please accept my humble accounting of the treacherous path Jesus and His followers took to the cross, and gloriously beyond. (Road to the Cross will continue during Monday visits this Lenten season.) ************************************************************ Can it get any worse? They've killed my Master. They tortured and humiliated and killed him. All that's left is this final task. And yet, my pace slows with every step, the heaviness of my spirit weighing down my feet. Can I do it? Can I complete this final act of service to my Lord?  There's the tomb, but hesitation holds me in its grip. The stone of this neighboring tomb feels cool and smooth beneath my hand. Let me rest, just for a moment, rest from heartbreak and weariness of soul. He walked on the water. He healed the sick, and even raised Lazarus. He fed thousands with a few loaves and fishes. Has he really left us? Where are the miracles now? God, help me do what must be done. He was disgraced in death. Give me strength to to restore some honor to him. Now on the first day of the week Mary Mag′dalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. How could this have happened? The soldiers rolled a stone across the door to the tomb. Who could be so cruel? We must find him! Where are the disciples? Why aren't at least Peter, James, and John here? 2 So she ran to Simon Peter and the other follower (the one Jesus loved very much). She said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”  Where are they going? We have to find him! How could they just leave like that? I must find him! But where to look? Where do I begin? Our Master taken. John and Peter abandoning hope. Am I to search alone? 11 Mary Magdalene stood crying outside the tomb. She was still weeping, when she stooped down 12 and saw two angels inside. They were dressed in white and were sitting where Jesus' body had been. One was at the head and the other was at the foot. 13 The angels asked Mary, “Why are you crying?”  Angels and gardeners. I am trapped, trapped between heaven and earth, and all I long for is to see my Savior again. He gave me everything when I had nothing to offer him. And now I am blinded to all this world holds. 16 “Mary!” Jesus said. She turned toward him. How can this be? I saw his horrible death, his broken body taken from the cross. But He lives! My Savior lives! They're never going to believe me! Faster, I need to run faster. He lives! My Savior lives! I've got to tell them. It was all true, everything He told us, everything we could not believe because we did not understand. But it's all true: my Savior lives! "Peter! John! He lives! The Master lives! I saw Him, spoke to Him! He told me to come tell you that HE LIVES! Come, I will show you!"   Tom and I are discovering a whole new world of viewing, beyond cable, since getting our new tv. One of our new favorites is "Raiders of the Lost Art". I know, major nerd alert. I like discovering this program because it combines mystery, art, history, and insights. What's not to love? Apparently, there's a bit. I've never been a big fan of El Greco's style of painting. That's not to say I don't appreciate his talent, just not his paintings so much. On a recent episode about El Greco, I decided to stick it out, and I'm glad I did. El Greco's quote about purpose gave me a jump start. "I was created by the all powerful God to fill the universe with my masterpieces.”  Dear Reader, have you wondered what your masterpiece is? I wonder if God intends that to be a hard question for us to answer. Jesus said, “My food is to do what the One who sent me wants me to do. My food is to finish the work that he gave me to do. I'm so thankful for the encouragement of God's Word. I'm also thankful for my dad's role model of pursuing his masterpiece.  Daddy dropped out of school after 8th grade to help on the family farm during the Depression. He enlisted in the Army exactly three months before Pearl Harbor. After World War II, he got his G.E.D, and took a Dale Carnegie course. Daddy was one of the few officers accepted into the Command and General Staff College who hadn't graduated from a public college.  In addition to attending at least ten other Army Training Schools, Daddy probably had at least ten different jobs when we were kids. Daddy was looking for his masterpiece. I used to be amazed that he didn't discover it until he was forty-five. On this side of forty-five, I am amazed by his perseverance to find it. Dear, Dear Reader, have you discovered your masterpiece? Are you blessed with days of glory and thanksgiving? Have you found your face on the floor, fists pounding, and screams of frustration bursting from your lungs? Wherever you are in creating your masterpiece, our Creator is right beside you, because you know what, Dear Reader? We are His masterpiece.   Dear Reader, thank you for joining me on the road to the cross. My heart leaps to share the old, old story that remains new. Please accept my humble accounting of the treacherous path Jesus and His followers took to the cross, and gloriously beyond. (Road to the Cross will continue during Monday visits this Lenten season.) ****************************************************************** It's over. I could not bear to look, and now it's over. He tried to tell me the very first time I came to Him. He tried, but I was too stubborn, too afraid to listen. 14 And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of man be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. He tried to tell me how much He loved me. For crying out loud, I came to Him in the night, sneaking and scared. But it didn't seem to matter to Him, He still said He loved me. He had already forgiven me before I even came. 16 For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. And now, look at them. Mary never wavered in her faithfulness. How could she bear to watch her son die such a horrible death? How did the Master draw Himself from the delirium of pain to commission John with taking care of her? And here am I, still hiding in the shadows? What is left for me to do?  39 Nicode′mus also, who had at first come to him by night, came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds’ weight. 40 They took the body of Jesus, and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. 41 Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb where no one had ever been laid. 42 So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, as the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there. What a feeble task for the Master. How clumsy I am in my ignorance of the process. His poor body! Ripped and humiliated, and He said He was going to do it for me. How do I bare this shame? 21 But he who does what is true comes to the light, that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been wrought in God. Gently, gently ... gently to the tomb. I hate to leave Him, but Joe reminds me of rituals and regulations. Dusk screams at us to go. How can I leave the Master? How can my spirit come out of the shadows? Where is the light He promised?  |
Hi, my name is Alice. A Way with Words is about sharing faith,
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