From My Pen

Hebrews 4:16

“Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

We “obtain” to “find”.

Obtain mercy (our foundation of access) to find grace (our benefit of access).

Jesus’ substitutionary sacrifice is God’s mercy (verse 14), which gives us confidence to speak  honestly…coming clean about ourselves, holding nothing back. The need for grace is us!

This week, go there and stay awhile.

Several years ago when Robin, I and our three children resided in New Zealand, our favorite spot for a quick ‘refresh’ was Hanmer Springs.  A one and a half hour drive away through rolling green country-sides was the perfect way to slow us down on the inside, getting us ready for our destination: a lovely hamlet with an ‘alpine’ feel and beautiful hot springs that massaged tense muscles and weary bodies.

The town had one street down it’s middle with shops on each side...the perfect place to meander after soaking in the sulfate acid pools.  We could buy slabs of fudge in one of those shops and towering ice cream cones. Or browse for things we didn’t need and, therefore, weren’t going to buy.  

However one fine day as Robin and I meandered, we discovered a large, beautiful framed print of deep-purple irises.  Color...beauty...life reached out and grabbed us. We were mesmerized; we’d never seen anything like it.  And we wanted it!  The price was reasonable...but we thought we could get it for less.  And so the bargaining began.  A few minutes later, we walked out...empty handed!   we went back the next morning to make the purchase but someone else had already payed the asking price and went home with a beauty. The loss was ours.

Robin and I could not get that print out of our minds...for we had fallen in love with irises that day.  We looked everywhere over the years to find a replica...   on-line, art shows, but nothing; again we came up empty.  Our ‘miserliness’ had cost us and that experience became the litmus test for all future purchases.

A few years later, we packed up and moved back to the States.  Several years after that, in fact just two years ago on Mother’s Day, Robin warmed my heart  with 12 iris bulbs to plant in our own garden.  I was ecstatic.  And so we planted, right next to the steps of our veranda, and waited for Spring to come.  It came...but not the flowers.  Only green leaves poked their heads through our soil. We honestly wondered what we had done wrong and how to right it.  Did we plant in the wrong place?  Did they not get enough sun? How “green is our thumb” anyway?  

About 9 months later, in a neighborhood online newsletter, someone asked: “My irises didn’t bloom last year; did yours?”  I was relieved...it wasn’t our green thumb after all!  And so with hope, we waited  for Spring to come this year.  And it has...and with it flowers!  Five plants survived the unexpected snowy blast this past winter...seven did not.  Five blooms of deep purple grace our veranda railing.  We know these five bulbs will multiply in years to come,  massing the beauty to magnificent proportions; but for now, five blooms will do.  

There are times in life we make wrong decisions, maybe rash decisions...in big things and little things.  Sometimes, there are significant consequences, sometimes just a sense of loss.  But in the overall scheme of things, God still rules.  When we embrace His rule, He can ‘right us’ in our wrong decisions involving the big stuff...or restore ‘our loss’ in the things that don’t matter. In both, He works lovingly and creatively.

In this regard, Ecclesiastes 3:11 is a good verse ‘to hang our hat on’: “He has made everything beautiful in its time....”  Barnes Commentary of Bible Hub explains it this way: “...He hath made all (the travail, Ecclesiastes 3:10) beautiful (fit, in harmony with the whole work of God) in its time....” 

I wonder what beauty God is bringing to you?  Wait for its time!

Marcia Hadfield

Palm Sunday is here and I never come to this day that I don’t think about another person whose ride on a donkey had great significance. The occasion, I think, is  antecedent to the occurrence  we mark as Palm Sunday, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  The occasion is mentioned in 1 Kings 1.

An era was ending; King David had ruled long and well...for the most part.  Transition was in the wings; but leadership was lacking.  In that vacuum, a coup was in the making. By the time it reached the ears of the prophet Nathan, the wheels had turned and final plans were in place.  In fact, Adonijah had already declared himself Israel’s king through the ritual of sacrifice and celebration. 

Decisive leadership by King David was crucial.  His strategy was brilliant, yet simple.  He had Solomon, his chosen successor, ride his (David’s) donkey to the brook Gihon and be anointed by Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet.    The transfer of power had taken place...Solomon is Israel’s king!  

Many, many years later, another descendant of King David rides a donkey...this time into the holy city, Jerusalem. The populace is ecstatic; with homage and celebration, they shout in the streets: “the King of Israel” John 12:13.  We know their homage was short-lived; but make no mistake about it, the transfer of power had begun to take place.  On a donkey, Israel’s King comes humbly, making His way towards death and resurrection...and ultimately the overthrow of Satan’s rule.  His power and right to rule will be broken through the sacrifice of the King.

A day is coming when this King returns, not humbly but with majesty and glory, power and authority.  This time, it will be the whole world who will pay homage...every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, Phillipians 2:10, 11.

That day is my hope; but for this day, the questions I’m challenged with are these: do I recognize when Jesus comes to me? And how He comes...the ‘donkey’ He might use?  My response will reflect whether the transfer of power has reached the deep places of my heart.

I’ve mentioned before that our farm cottage came with 2 dogs and several hens that needed tending to morning and night.  In the seven years we’ve lived here, we’ve learned the accuracy of the word “henpecked”. There is always a pecking order in the domain of the chicken coop.  For some unknown reason (at least to our novice understanding), there will always be an ‘underdog’...a hen that is subject to bullying.  Two signs will identify her: she’s chased away from food, whether kitchen scraps or grain; and she has a patch somewhere on her body that is ‘feather-free’...her feathers been pecked off by the other hens.  Both signs raise within you the anger of injustice and you long to fight for her or ‘will’ her to fight for herself!

Late one night last Spring, Gidget (our border collie) was doing what she was created to do: guard the perimeters of our 70 acre farm.  And we were doing what we were created to enjoy: sleeping soundly.  Somewhere around midnight, furious barking penetrated that soundness and the next morning we discovered why: a chicken coop violated by a bear.  There were chicken feathers everywhere...inside and outside the coop.  And no chickens!  The coop was still standing but in disarray with much need of repair.  A sad sight that spoiled the beauty of our farm and made us feel unsafe.

About a week later, we happened to see a hen wandering the property; we could hardly believe our eyes...somehow, she had survived the onslaught.  We were able to corral her...and would you believe it?  The henpecked hen!  Tenderly, we  channeled her back into the coop and watched over her like a mother hen.  She had been so traumatized that she ‘stayed put’, not eating or drinking or showing any signs of life.  We were sure she wouldn’t survive...but she did.  And many weeks later, her feathers returned, ‘scrawny’ gave way to ‘plump’ and she laid her first egg...a sure sign she’s alive and well on planet earth!

I learn a few things from this journey into the chicken world.  One, the ‘underdog’ is not necessarily doomed to defeat; somewhere in the process of being bullied, there is the possibility of a strength of character being formed that will enable the bullied to overcome.  Two, drama and trauma will take time to heal; give it that time with patience and hope.  Three, when healing has taken place, fruit will come that has substance to it, marking the beginning of a new day/era.

Let me connect some dots.  I have spent several weeks trudging through James 1...trudging because I want to understand just what James is saying.  That requires slow, methodical and thorough thought.  In the journey has come along Paul and Peter and their treatment of the same subject: trials.  All three writers have the same understanding: trials mature us. They are tools that refine our faith and our character. 

Trials are positive...but we see them as negative. We see them as things that trouble us not God’s grace that matures us, making us ready for our future. Robert J. Morgan in his book, The Red Sea Rules, pg. 116, says it this way: “Our faith grows when we choose to apply God’s promises to today’s problems and use the experiences to mature us for tomorrow’s challenges.”  So, how are we doing with today’s problems?  Are we bullied by them or use them redemptively? 

Sometime this Spring, a new batch of chicks with invade our chicken coop; I’m very much interested to see if our survivor will again be the bullied or through her drama and trauma has become an equal.  I’m betting on the latter!

Gidget is our beloved border collie that came with the farm cottage we rent.  While she has a ‘dog house’ that is quite substantial, she’s traumatized by it (for some reason)  and refuses to ‘house’ herself there.  So, our back deck has become her home, complete with two doggie cushions.

Last year when the rains came and the cushions became soaked, we constructed a make-shift shelter of a blue tarp draped over our picnic table.  Ugly, ugly, ugly...but somewhat workable.  This year, I reluctantly gave permission for another option: our covered veranda.  The reason for my reluctance was two-fold: the former owners of the cottage specified in our contract the dog was not allowed on the veranda, and we have cushioned rattan furniture I do not want ruined by one dirty dog!  The reason for renege-ing was again two-fold:  the new owners are much more flexible, and we could barricade the ‘pets allowed’ area from the ‘people only’ area.

So, before the rains came in their fury, we moved one doggie cushion to the side veranda, opened the gate and led our dog onto the ‘sacred’ porch and her bed.  She liked it but didn’t totally make it her home...the back deck is still her preferred spot to snooze.  However, she ‘got the message’ and returns there when the rain begins to pour.

But last night, the rain turned to snow and we looked to see where Gidget was...and sure enough, on the doggie cushion was one curled up black and white boarder collie, watching the white flakes float through the air!  12 hours later, we all (dog included) woke to a winter wonderland of white.  Majestic beauty that takes your breath away, stops you in your tracks, wraps you in quiet peace, changes the face of your immediate world.

It was a picture perfect environment...until we realized that Gidget’s water and food were still on the back deck!  I think Gidget also realized the gap between where she was and what she needed: food!  Does she step her paws into that cold snow, blaze a trail to the back deck or remain food and waterless? (What she didn’t know as she contemplated her predicament was that we were already making tracks ourselves through the house to the back deck and two doggie bowls!

This situation isn’t lost on me...for there are times in my life when I’m right where our dog was this morning.  My personal world is as it should be: upright, steady, fulfilling, comfy.  But then I begin to feel stirrings of disturbance within.  Sometimes that disturbance could be labeled fear, sometimes discontent, sometimes an imperceptible anger, sometimes drivenness of being.  Whatever it is, I know two things: God is beginning to expose inner areas that need help/healing/change, and God is calling me to plummet His depths as I allow Him to plummet mine.  The sons of Korah said it this way: “Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls;  all Your waves and billows have gone over me.” Psalm 42:7.

My first response when the disturbance reaches my consciousness is “Do I really want to go down that road again?  I know that His light penetrating my darkness is uncomfortable.  His finger on my hypocrisy, painful. So, yeah, do I?  Will I? 

But I also know that what He offers me through the journey is priceless, is what I want: Himself.  I wish I could explain that...I can’t.  It’s beauty...majesty... love...light.   It’s judgment without condemnation, forgiveness without conditions.  It’s God being everything He says He is, everything I’ve believed Him to be.  Experiencing that in the context of my ugliness is sacred ground, awe-ing me...humbling me, but making me whole and free.

Did Gidget put her paws in that cold snow?  You bet she did!  Do I step onto that road of light and love? Yep...for majestic beauty awaits to catch my breath away.  Something like the  landscape of the morning.  

A lifetime ago, I had my first taste of betrayal and it shook my world in three significant arenas: my perspective of God, myself, Christian ministry. Painful...painful...painful. 

In that pain of heart-rending offense, I began to grapple with forgiveness. But before I could discover what that looked like and how to do it, in marched another daunting word that was way beyond my comfort zone: reconciliation.  I’ve spent years trying to get my head and heart around those three words:offense, forgiveness, reconciliation.

I have recently come to the conclusion that forgiveness and reconciliation are  by-products of walking well the road of offense. Let me explain.  I do not mean that I go to the offender and work through the offense.  I mean that I understand the origin of the offense and work through that well. 

Offense is really rooted, not in the actions of another, but in a kernel of truth in those actions that hits me right where I live...so I feel offended.  ‘Something’ in me has offended ‘something’ in them and they react through words or actions.  

I find that there are basically three ways I respond to offense: I blame/accuse the offender; I pretend the offense isn’t there; I ask God why I am offended...what truth in me do I need to see that needs to be changed?

In the first response, there is always something in the offender I can blame or accuse and be perfectly justified in that.  In the second response, pretending not to be offended is an escape mechanism that enables me to ignore my inner shortcomings that need to be looked at.  In the third response, I open the way for growth and change...and that is always God’s intended purpose in/through the offense.

I find it very interesting that when I walk this latter road, I see the offender and their offense differently.  The ‘offense’ is the tool God is using for my good, the ‘offender’ is a human being who, like me, has inner needs requiring understanding and change. Seeing their human-ness through the lens of my own human-ness makes me compassionate and grace-giving.

Sometimes that perspective is enough to dissolve my anx, allowing me to forgive from the heart...not just from the will.  That change of impetus makes all the difference in the world!  It’s effective, completely removing the offense.   I don’t think about it...don’t hurt over it...don’t have to keep forgiving it and the offender.  It truly is a finished issue. 

Sometimes I need to go to the offender...not to forgive them for their offense but to ask their forgiveness for my own humanness which offended them and triggered their offensive reaction.  It’s owning ‘my stuff’ with no hint of ‘their stuff’.  I find this very healing and freeing...for them and for me.  

 But what about reconciliation?  Well, that requires more than just me...that requires the offender as well.  There are two verses that speak to this issue: “ Can two walk together except they be agreed?”(Amos 3:3) and “If we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7)

Reconciliation occurs when the cause for the alienation has been removed; that requires confession and forgiveness from both parties.  The offended and the offender both need to own their ‘stuff’ before each other, giving and receiving forgiveness in the process; that’s “walking in the light”.  When the blood of Jesus is applied to the wrong, fellowship (reconciliation) happens.  

Often, we never reach that end...because one party isn’t ready to walk that road.  While that leaves a hole in the one ready, he/she is no longer bound by the alienation. They’ve taken ownership of their ‘stuff’, made confession before God and the other party, and forgiven. The alienation is no longer theirs to bear.  That’s wholeness and freedom.

“And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2:7

What amazes me about the Christmas story is not the miracles, the fulfillment of prophecy, the supernatural visitations.  No, it’s the feeding trough.  A vessel designed for animals, but designated by God to cradle His Son.  

This is no ‘happenstance’, the result of poor planning on Joseph’s part.  No, this is God’s demonstration of grace: He became poor that we, through His poverty, might become rich.

I wonder at the feeding troughs in our lives?  You know, those things that disturb us, unsettle us.  Hard things.  Unlovely things.  Perhaps ugly, downright smelly things.  We see them as rough, abrasive.  And we long to change them, smooth out their edges, make them more acceptable.  

But could it be that they are God’s cradle, designed to hold the Christ-child?  Could it be that if we were to look for Jesus there, we would find their poverty give way to riches, the wealth of God’s grace?

The shepherds looked for the Christ-child in the manger and found Him.  Follow suit.  Look for Him in your own feeding trough and you will find Him!

Blessings this Christmas season,

Let me tell you three stories: one dated 44 years ago, one five years ago, one just two weeks ago.

Robin and I were back in New Zealand for our first furlough; speaking engagements was part of that furlough year.  One weekday morning, I stood before my first women’s group.  I came to them disappointed and disillusioned with missionary life and ministry; my need was to be transparent and credible in what I shared.  I talked about real life…the problems that challenged my call.  At the end of that ‘talk’, a matriarch stood up as tall and straight as she could be and said: “There are no problems, only victories!”  The year - 1974.

Many years later, Robin and I ministered to staff and pastors of a thriving national church in Cambodia.  As we met one-on-one, we asked them: “What is your joy and your pain in ministry?”  The joy part was easy for them; their faces lit up as they told story after story of God moving and blessing and redeeming.  BUT the pain part was difficult…not because they had none but because they, too, thought that “there are no problems, only victory” in God’s work.  To admit to pain seemed to undermine that victory.  When we gave them permission to be honest, the floodgates opened wide! The year  - 2013.

Two weeks ago, Robin and I held the annual Pastoral Care Retreat for the International Workers of the Alliance Spain field.  Our aim in the retreat was that these faithful workers feel cared for; with that in mind, we allowed much time for sharing and praying.  Robin and I were moved by their honesty and vulnerability. It was not surprising that most of their sharing centered on woundedness of heart, struggle of soul and perplexity of circumstance.

I’ve lived long enough in Christian life and ministry to see progression in my thinking on this matter of life’s joy and pain.  

In my earlier years, the Christian life was all about joy: I had been redeemed, I had purpose, I had a ‘comfort Spot’, I had hope.  (I also had a darker reality beneath my surface that I denied.)

As I journeyed on, I came to grips at some point that life is made up of: highs/lows, joy/pain, mountains/valleys, trials/triumphs.  Sometimes the contrast is seasonal: a season of one and then a season of the other.  Sometimes, they walked hand-in-hand in the same season.   While I acknowledged the negative season as part of the Christian experience, there was this subconscious notion that it was an aberration, an abnormality…that one day it would go away and I could go on my way rejoicing once again in the goodness of God.

Somewhere in the longevity of this Christian journey, I’ve come to a new place of understanding: sunshine and shadow is a combo…designed in its combo-form to manifest and magnify God’s greatness; both are required.

There’s a lot I don’t understand about that…a lot of theological questions that challenge that…a lot of ‘me’ that resists that; but when I surrender to that reality, there are a couple things that happen:

·     I begin to understand something the psalmist said:

 “Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, but the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.” Psalm 139:12

·     I begin to see how shadows manifest and magnify the greatness of God: sometimes He steps into the shadow and changes it completely; sometimes He is so sufficient that I’m able to live with the shadow; sometimes He exposes ‘me’ through the shadow, giving me opportunity to grow, mature, change.  

Seeing shadows in this light makes me realize that perhaps that matriarch was right after all: there are no problems, only victory…if God is manifested and magnified by the shadow.  Beyond the shadow is the sunlight of God’s love and care; and at the end of the day, our hope in our shadow is experiencing the goodness of God.  Now that’s victory!

Sunshine and shadow. Wherever you are, see God!

Several years ago when we considered renting our present farm property, there were basically three stipulations: the chickens, the dogs and the garden.  The first two caused us pause: did we really want the commitment of watering and feeding farm animals twice a day?  When we got past our sense of ‘being tied down’, we realized the commitment level was minimal and very do-able. 

The third stipulation was a no-brainer.  We knew how to mow the lawn and keep the embankment of four lily plants tidy.  But as time went on, the four lily plants began to be surrounded by other plants, many of them coming to us as a last ditch effort for their survival.  It seemed that balcony living wasn’t ‘their thing’; so we tenderly relieved them of their ceramic shells and found places in-between the lily plants. 

Two of our plants were cuttings from our son’s garden: daisies and a beautiful lilac-colored flowering bush. (I have no idea its name!)  Much to our delight, we found they both blossomed uninhibited in our farm soil and reseeded themselves in places unplanned by us. 

About the same time all of this creative energy was going on, we had a small piece of dirt right by our deck that needed ‘something’ so the farm manager gave us six small daisy plants of another variety. That first year, they grew enough to be broken up and become a second row for our second summer. At the end of that summer, we divided them again and started dotting the embankment of lily plants.  Several years later, they have become a hedge by the deck, towering bushes on the embankment and pockets of simple beauty gracing a section at the front of our house that didn’t have ‘much going for it’.

We’ve been here seven years now. We like sitting on our deck in the cool of the evening, taking in all the beauty...or enjoying a morning cup of coffee  amongst terra-cotta pots of red geraniums, a blue wicker basket of ivy and Million Bells of various colors, a nasturtium plant in a plastic tub nearby and cherry tomatoes ripening on the vine for the ‘pickin’ as we pass by.  Time, labor, nutrients, sun, water.  No quick process....but the end result beauty you can’t buy! 

And that’s the thought that’s captured my attention this summer...it’s taken a lifetime of gardening for me to become a garden of beauty.  God tending...me responding.  I’d like it to be “Miracle Gro” but it’s not.  It’s a process that requires seasons, soil cultivation, weeding, pruning...interspersed with strong doses of encouragement, acceptance, love. It would seem God is in no hurry...what He’s working towards is beauty that doesn’t fade or wither with time, is vibrant with color and life despite the climate.  

I find this process of time comforting rather than chafing. It helps me understand Psalm 92:14: “They shall still bear fruit in old age; they shall be fresh and flourishing.”  I’m in that category of “old age”; and I find my fruit has a different quality to it now: it seems more quiet, restful, trusting.  Do I say: more mature? The years of “God tending...me responding” have produced those kind of  blooms. In that process, I’ve learned to discern my cycles and God’s cultivating tools, my weeds and God’s pruning.  I’ve learned to let Him go deep into my layers and get to my unhealthy roots. I’ve learned that there He heals, creating a new root system that bears in me healthy fruit.

Yes, in the end, we are His handiwork. His aim is that in old age we flourish with His freshness.  A lifetime process.  So settle-in and let Him create His garden in you.

Our whole family unit (6 adults and 3 grandchildren) are enjoying the unique privilege of vacationing in Indonesia and visiting our former place of ministry in Batu, Malang.

Our first ‘must see’ after Bali was Sarfat.  As I wandered the terraced grounds of this Christian retreat center, the word ‘legacy’ came to mind.  I remembered when this was only a dream of two single missionaries from Germany; now several buildings dot the landscape of this Indonesian hillside. A few are meeting spaces for retreats and conferences, most are rooms for weary workers who need respite and refreshment from the challenges of Christian Ministry.  

Between the ‘then’ of yesteryear and the ‘now’ of today, life happened, tourists came, hotels were built and the quiet streets of Batu became thoroughfares too busy to cross on foot. That the retreat center held ‘the test of time’ and remained true to the vision of two women who were without human credentials but strong in faith is powerful.

I remembered (as I meandered) that as their vision began taking shape, Robin and I were just down the road in the university town of Malang,  We had rented a Dutch villa on a nice street to work with Indonesian students.  Three years later, we returned to the U.S. to pursue pastoral ministry.

Now fast forward to just two days ago. We loaded the 6 adults and 3 grandchildren into our rented van and went up and down that “nice street” several times, trying to find our old house. It wasn’t there! Apparently, over the course of time...42 years to be exact...the house became derelict, was bulldozed down and became a very mediocre fast-food restaurant…think KFC Indonesia-style! Modernity had done its damage.  

To my thinking, it is a present-day picture of a very old parable…a wise man and a foolish man and the houses they built, Matthew 7:24-27.

The thrust of the parable is to build your life on the right foundation…because the rains will come and those rains will test the foundation.  Will it stand in the midst of life’s storms?

Robin and I have been spared much heartache in life because years ago we decided to live life out from “What does Jesus want?” So, while storms came, our ‘house’ held.

But that day, in my meandering, I saw the parable in a different light…the light of legacy: building on right foundations gives something to leave behind to the next generation.

So the question that came to mind as I looked at the legacy of this retreat center was this: What are Robin and I leaving behind? What legacy are we building to hand down to our kids...our grandkids...and beyond?  

It certainly isn’t ‘bricks and mortar’…houses and property and possessions. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now. We’ve lived as sojourners: simply, unencumbered.  I must admit (as I come to this stage where I’m thinking of what we leave behind) wishing we did have the ‘bricks and mortar’…the tangible ‘stuff’ with which to bless our kids and grandkids.  But we don’t.

In the midst of this ‘wishing’, I’m reminded of something Jesus once said regarding the ‘tangible stuff’: “Therefore do not worry, saying ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you.” Matthew 6:31-33.  

As I reflect on this, I realize two things:  One, we have lived His command (seek first the kingdom of God) and He has kept His promise (all these things shall be added to you).   We have wanted for nothing all these years of seeking first His kingdom. Two, a whole lifetime of our trust and His faithfulness has built our legacy; we pass on eternal truths that stand the test of time: God is the Rock that doesn’t move in the storms of life; look for the Invisible (God) and you will experience the supernatural (faith); live surrendered…it frees God to shower you with His abundance; when the storms hit, know that God is sovereign and is working for your good because He is good; live God’s vision for your life…it will enlarge your human capacity.

These are truths (learned ‘in the storms’) that have stood ‘the test of time’. They are our wealth; we pass them down to the next generation of Hadfields with every confidence they will remain true for their lifetime...and the lifetime of their children...and their children’s children...and all the way till Jesus comes!

Six years ago when we considered renting our present farm property, one of the stipulations was looking after the farm dogs.  We took that task on (a bit begrudgingly, I must admit) and watered them, fed them, played ball with Merlin  (even trying to train him to return it!) and put them to bed at night in their specially constructed doghouse.  We were given some boundaries: they were NOT allowed in the garage, covered veranda or house.  We abided by those ‘laws’; but after Merlin died (he was very old) and we got new owners, we found ourselves reneging on the garage bit. Gidget now comes in quite freely with no fear at all...even sneaking her way into the house on a couple occasions, much to our horror.

Though she is still a farm dog, barking away wild animals (bears, coyotes, etc.), guarding our boundaries, meandering the property’s two creeks, she has become ‘a member of our family’. So we bought a brush to smooth out the tangles of her white/black coat, made a make-shift shelter on our back deck when the rains poured down this year and started buying ‘doggie treats’ (much to Robin’s reluctance!)  And it is these ‘treats’ that is the subject of this blog. 

Our morning ritual (always in the garage and often before we’ve even had our breakfast) is to brush her down, rub her belly, hold a conversation (though a monologue) and finish off with a dog biscuit.   Some days, she snatches it out of our hands and heads for our lawn where she settles down to enjoy a leisurely gnaw; but of late, we've noticed that frequently she will wander  our garden with the bone in her mouth until she finds the perfect spot...to bury it!  It happened again today.  When it did, I thought of the parable of the talents...the servant with the one talent also buried his ‘treat’  (Matthew 25:14-30).  

There have been times in my journey of faith I  have felt like that servant...burying what i considered my ‘measly’ talent.  The burying came out of feeling insignificant (because I compared myself with others) and faithlessness (because God wasn’t bringing me to the significance I thought  commiserate with my dedicated efforts!).  

Over the years, the Lord has faithfully ministered in those two areas.  He has taught me that He gifts according to the capacity with which He has created me,  and true significance lies in being faithful to Him in the giftedness. Romans 12:3-8.

In these later years of our lives, Robin and I are experiencing a fullness in ministry we’ve never had before.  Somewhere in our journey, we ‘settled down’ to how He’s created us, and that freed us to find the uniqueness of our gifts that are so well-suited to the doors He opens for us. 

Which brings me back to bones being buried. Yep, Gidget still buries her bones but I don’t.  I am learning to step with faith into those God-appointed opportunities that seem beyond my gifting...because I’ve experienced that God  does “above and beyond” my giftedness to make Himself great.  To me and everyone else who strives to be a faithful servant.

It all started with our trip to Spain last November to lead a spiritual retreat for the international workers of Christian & Missionary Alliance Spain.  During our two weeks there, we fell in love with coffee...their coffee!  Try as we might explain it, there was something really special about coffee in Spain.  Adding to our delight, one of the international workers was a connoisseur; ‘everything coffee’ was in his backpack, in his house, on his lips.  He told us everything we needed to know to make a good cup of coffee.  Armed with that info, we came home excited to change our coffee experience! 

Since Christmas was just around the corner, top of Robin’s Christmas list was a coffee grinder.  We had learned that it must be a burr grinder...and Amazon had plenty.  Researching was easy: the right cost and right reviews narrowed the field.   With little effort, we found our grinder.  To top it off, it could be delivered in time for Christmas!

The delivery date arrived and Amazon sent an email that said: “Your coffee grinder has been delivered to a secure location.” Search as we might, there absolutely was no grinder! We gave it a few days,...giving Amazon the benefit of the doubt; but when we remained grinder-less, we  started the journey of dialogue with Amazon.  Lo and behold, we then received another email that changed the delivery date and we breathed a sigh of relief...there was hope after all; but that, too, proved an empty promise.  Again, we reached out to Amazon.  They, too, were non-plussed to understand what had happened and offered to return the money to our account.  We took them up on the offer!  

After a brief search, we found the same grinder at the same price in a local store. Robin would get his gift in time for the Christmas tree after all!  Saga ended...or so we thought.

A few days before the 25th, we came home from Christmas shopping to find Amazon’s grinder at the front gate of our farm property...soaking wet! (Think Seattle rain.)  Now we had two grinders...and another phone conversation with Amazon.  

After explaining the situation, we said: “You have refunded us the cost of a grinder which  we now have in our possession; how do we refund the refund?”  “You can’t; we have no capability to receive refunds.” “What do we do with the grinder?” “Keep it; it costs us too much to receive it back.” We could hardly believe our ears...and our good fortune: a free grinder we could gift to someone who also wanted to make a good cup of coffee!

What an experience in perspective and response.  What we ‘perceived’ in the journey was “There’s no grinder comin’. “...when actually the grinder was always comin’ but just got delayed. Our response was propelled by our perspective...and our expectation of a grinder under the Christmas tree.  Throw into the mix impatience and you have what we got...a saga!

Need I say the obvious? When God makes a promise which causes us to hope, then we need to wait with patience until it comes into the visible. Paul mentions this very truth when talking about something far more weighted than a coffee grinder.  He says our hope is the resurrection of our body (Romans 8:24)...“but if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:25 NIV) 

Hope comes in all sizes and shapes, colors and hues.  Whatever your hope is, anchor yourself in the God who has promised.  His delays will bring blessing that far exceeds your hope.

Several years ago, Robin and I along with some good friends from New Zealand, took a road trip through the national parks of Arizona and Utah. After returning home, we made a side trip to Whistler, British Columbia, Canada.  While meandering this little Alpine village, I purchased a quilted tea cozy of blue and white cotton.  Over the years, it served us well; but time and dripping tea pots did their damage and it became an ‘eye sore’.  Time to get a new one.

In our March trip to Norway and Denmark last year, I had two purchases in mind: a silver spoon (last month’s blog) and a tea cozy.  The first we found, the second we didn’t.  But never mind…we’ll just get one in November when we go to London on our way to Spain to lead a spiritual retreat for the Alliance Spain international workers.  

And so, November arrived and off to London we flew.  The third day in, we got up with one thing in mind: buy a tea cozy. Our boutique hotel was charming and its owner knowledgable…but she had never heard of a tea cozy!  However, going on-line, she found a few stores that might have them and off we went with money in hand.  Several hours later, we returned…empty-handed.

Spain came and went…and so did Christmas!  With the tea cozy still in mind, we did the only thing possible at that point: we looked on line...and found the perfect tea cozy.  Off went the transaction; and in less than a week, our tea cozy arrived on our doorstep.  It was everything we wanted: attractive, well made, right size.  

In our enthusiasm, we missed seeing the card that came with the purchase; but when we did, we couldn’t believe our eyes: “Dot’s Pass Time - Woodinville, WA.”  Woodinville!...a bedroom community of Seattle, just down the road from where we live, a place we frequent often because we worship there.  We had traveled the world for a tea cozy and here it was…in our own backyard, 25 minutes away!

Sometimes the answers we search for as we journey life are close at hand, within our grasp...we just don’t see them because we’re not looking for them there.    

I’m reminded of the waters of Marah in Israel’s journey to the Promised Land, Exodus 15:22-27.  You know the story.  Three days into their journey, they came to their first water supply, but found the waters bitter! The people grumbled, Moses cried out to God, and God revealed a tree that would make everything different.  Thrown into the waters changed the chemical balance and the waters became sweet...drinkable. 

Now when you think about it, generations of sojourners had passed by those waters and never drank...because they never saw the tree, which I’m inclined to believe was there all the time. It was only as Moses sought God did he/they find the answer to a desperate need.  In one way, the answer was a piece of wood; but God’s say on the matter is more than them finding that piece of wood.  He says “If you listen carefully to the Lord your God and do what is right in His eyes....”verse 26.  The answer (to whatever lay ahead of them) is them listening to God and doing what is right.  It is them hearing God and doing what they hear.

Herein is our problem: we find it difficult to hear God!  And we perceive that His voice is outside of us, often far away.  But God says differently: 

“For this commandment which I command you today is not too mysterious for you, nor is it far off.  It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend into heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Nor is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.” Deuteronomy 30:11-14.

God says that His voice is as close as my mouth and heart.  It is that close because my heart is His dwelling place...and He speaks out from where He dwells. His voice is primarily an internal voice.  To hear it requires time, often silence on my part and a heart that longs to hear Him speak. When I hear Him, I will often find that His answer is within my grasp...there all the time. Like that tea cosy, close at hand.

So, the question that confronts me is this: am I looking for answers without? Or within?  External answers that don’t necessarily reflect internal alignment with the voice of God? Or internal answers that are reflected in external alignment? Internal and external...in that order.

Hearing God is to hear Him speak within...near at hand all the time!

Marcia

Last March, our two daughters gifted Robin and me with a trip to Norway, my long-held dream…and accompanied us on the journey, adding to our delight!  I wanted to purchase a quality silver teaspoon as a memory; something of value and taste…not the typical souvenir trinket.  I ‘wanted’…but my oldest daughter ‘determined’ to make that happen, searching out a shop that crafted silver spoons.  

Sure enough, we tracked down…and trekked down…the small store on a side street in Bergen.  And I found my ‘perfect’ spoon.  Delicate, shining, just right for that time of day when an English cup of tea is all you need.

Fast forward a few weeks and a hospitality moment: hosting two young men for a week-end as they enjoyed the sights of Seattle.  The farm breakfast was finished and the dishes done…when Robin turned on the garbage disposal!  Clanging jarred every nerve in my body and out of that sink came my beautiful spoon…gnarled, twisted, pitted.  I could have cried…but didn’t, remembering that it was just a spoon!

Not wanting to make a ‘hasty decision’ on the fate of that precious spoon, I let it ‘hang around’ awhile.  Eventually, I decided I just couldn’t throw it away…it had too many memories, the latest being the young men and a breakfast meal together that was rich with personal sharing.  So, I put the spoon back in my little black spoon holder (which actually is a garlic pot used for a purpose other than garlic) and continue to pull it out for my times of tea.  Right now, it’s sitting next to my computer on a German bone-china cup & saucer set…a wedding present of 46 years. 

Nothing has changed; it is what it is.  But it has been redeemed…I put it back to work, using it  for its created purpose.  Apart from the  memory aspect behind keeping this ‘treasure’ is the spiritual truth it reminds me of: I am what I am…a sinner saved by grace.  Some of my deformities have been smoothed or re-shaped over the years of walking with Jesus…but I’ll never be without ‘spot or wrinkle’. That’s my truth.  

However, I’ve been redeemed…restored to God’s original purpose for my life: a vessel for His glory. You see, He is greater than my deformities.  And when I allow Him to be God in me, my very deformities become His instruments of grace. I can bemoan the deformities…or I can let God shine through them so that glory happens!  The choice is mine.  

In doing the latter, does that mean my deformities become my ‘status quo’ and there is no need for change?  No, it just means I’m freed from the tyranny of needing to be perfect to glorify God.  And because that is what I’m called to do, I can let Him change or use the deformities as He wills.

Yes, restored…a ‘bringing back’ to the original design. His work in me and my embracing that work.

The silver spoon?  Well, it will stay the same…bent out of shape. Me? Re-tooled daily by God for His glory.

Marcia

 Years and years ago, Robin and I met Charles Dickens for the first time through reading one of his books. For some reason, he had eluded us in our growing up years; and here we were, on the mission field, finding diversion and entertainment in his writings…page after page after page.  We were enthralled with his storytelling, particularly his ability to weave every character and event into the plot. No one/nothing was without significance...but you only understood that significance in the last pages.  Only then did the twists and turns of the story come together.

 As I meditated on the Christmas story over the month of December, I saw the narrative from a perspective different than my norm. It was not the phenomenon of the prophetic word coming into fulfillment...nor was it a puzzle coming together piece by piece.  It was the wonder of threads being woven into a tapestry of perfect design and color. Each woven in at its appropriate time...manner...shading. Nothing incidental or co-incidental. No person or event without meaning to the immediate and then to the whole. Meticulous preparation, no detail without significance.

 Consider the threads: Zacharias and Elizabeth; Joseph and Mary; shepherds and the angels; Caesar Augustus and the census; Bethlehem, the inn and the animal trough; the star, the wise men and Herod; Simeon and Anna, aged and waiting until they saw what they waited for.  All threads in the hand of the Master, who weaves with beauty and design and precision.

 Prophecy fulfilled and puzzle pieces fitting inspires awe; but a hand weaving threads of different hues into a tapestry of perfect beauty inspires trust...that place of inner quietness that ‘all’ will always be well.  Ultimately… because God, who is perfect love, is the Weaver.

 A new year has arrived; I want to step into it viewing life as God's tapestry being woven.  The dark hues. The brilliant colors. The shades of dust and desert. 

 I have ‘hopes’ in my heart that are embodied in events taking place…pieces coming together.  Something like Simeon and Anna of old.  But I want to see the events and pieces as threads that are part of the whole…not the whole.  I want to hang onto the ‘hopes’ without being tyrannized by their lack of fulfillment.  I want to trust the Weaver as He weaves each thread into the tapestry, knowing that one day (in time or eternity) the whole will be unveiled.

 So join me; invite your heart to be inspired to trust…regardless of the present thread being woven.