The Humbling Party Hat

As we were stepping out of the car, I noticed a stack of party hats in my 5 year-old granddaughter's hand.  In my adult, mature, wise tone, I suggested that maybe she should leave them in the car since we were headed into the sacred sanctuary for her three older brother's baptisms.  Not to be swayed by my opinion, she ignored my voice and marched straight ahead.  

There were the boys, already white-robed for the occasion, sitting on the front row.  There was celebration in the air.  It was a joyous day...a day they had prepared for.  They had each asked their Dad (and pastor) if they could be baptised when he had offered the opportunity to the congregation.  They had carefully memorized their statement of faith:

                    "I believe in God the Father, Almighty Maker of heaven and earth,
                    I believe in Jesus Christ God's only son, Savior of all,
                    I believe in the Holy Spirit poured out on all flesh and lives in my heart,
                    I reject the devil's temptations and accusations,
                    I confess that I have sinned and need a Savior,
                    I confess that Jesus is Lord and believe in my heart that God has raised him from the dead."

As Radley sat down, she offered the boys the party hats.  Maccabee was overjoyed.  You see,  these three boys have personalities all their own.  Kezek, gentle and tender, and Ryser, with depth and discernment, both for whatever reason, didn't take their sister's offer of the hats.  Maccabee, however, is an in-the-moment kind of guy.  He IS a party.  He IS a celebration.  He was more than thrilled to wear his exuberance on his head!

As I sat in the row behind him, uncontrollale tears streamed down my face.  My heart was already in awe that they had made the important decision to follow Jesus in these early years.  The Spirit gently reminded me that unless I also "become like little children, I will never enter the kingdom of Heaven."  (Matthew 18:3). That is why Jesus was indignant with his disciples when they tried to interfere with the children coming to Him.  He told them to "Let the children come to me.  Don't stop them!  For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children."  (Mark 10:14)   At least my years of experience have taught me to pay attention when the Lord disciplines me and when He teaches me lessons.

"Lord, please forgive me for being so adult.  Please give me a heart like these children.  Give me their enthusiasm and eagerness to celebrate the most important things in life.  Give me a pure open heart like Maccabee's, so that I can better represent your kingdom on earth.  Give me a passion for a party so that your love can be spread in our world that so desparately needs you.  Amen"

Sitting at Jesus' Feet

SITTING AT JESUS’ FEET

John 12:1-12

What if Jesus was coming to my house today?

Just a few weeks ago we prepared for my son’s wedding.  What a joy for my children to come home from miles away for this monumental celebration!   Getting ready to feed them all became an all-consuming project for me!  When someone comes to my house, (especially the most important people…the ones I cherish the most…) it’s customary to go all-out to make their visit comfortable, enjoyable and meaningful.  Of course, my sister helped!  We cleaned, got all the rooms ready, (in both of our homes,) and shopped.  We could not overdo the preparations!  Everything had to be just perfect for the people we love most in the whole world!

Getting ready must have been similar to that when Jesus came to Bethany that day.  Mary and Martha were friends of Jesus.  They were close friends.  They were followers.  They believed what He said.  They were disciples.  After all, He had just raised their brother from the dead a little while before this.  They must have been filled with excited anticipation as they got ready for His visit.  I can only imagine those two sisters cleaning, shopping, and the whirlwind of activity in their home before their special guest arrived that day!

As usual, Martha was still busying herself in the kitchen.  I can’t give her too much of a bad rap since I am usually the one in the kitchen.  After all, somebody has to prepare the food and clean up the mess!  But Mary… I just wonder… I wonder if in all her scurrying for this special visit she had thought ahead of time about how she would sit at Jesus’ feet.  I wonder if she had considered way before His arrival about how she would pour the expensive ointment on His feet?  I wonder if she had calculated the cost?  I wonder if she had been concerned about how she herself would do without it once she elaborately used it on the tired feet of her divine guest?  Maybe she hadn’t even had a thought in her head about doing such an outlandish thing, but then in His presence, all the preparation just wasn’t enough.  The clean house, the food, the fellowship, the perfect evening was just not enough.  All that she had done was insufficient to express the love in her heart.  She had to do something more to show just how much value and respect she placed on this Man.  She had to somehow bear the adoration of her soul.   She was compelled to give more.  Maybe she responded to a spontaneous thought…and ran to her own room, coming back with her greatest treasure on earth.  Whether impromptu or planned, her gift was precious.  It was a clear message to the Savior of her pure heart of love and devotion.   “…and she anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair.  The house was filled with the fragrance of her perfume.”  V3

We have heard a lot about washing our hands these last few weeks during the Coronavirus world-wide pandemic.  It is certainly important.  But how are we doing with washing the feet of those we love?  Perhaps more than ever, we can wash the feet of those in our own homes.  How we have needed this opportunity!  We have been confined to home with those we cherish most on this earth.  How are we doing washing those feet?  What sort of aroma is filling your home during this unusual time we are experiencing? 

Or even metaphorically?  How can we wash the feet of our friends and neighbors while we are socially distant?  Sometimes a phone call, a text or a card with an encouraging and loving word will soothe worn and tired feet trying to journey through this pandemic. 

May we, like Mary, seek to pour out our love with little thought of saving ourselves.  May we, with sweet abandon, give up our greatest earthly possessions to express the true treasure of our hearts.  As Mary dried Jesus’ feet that night with her hair, she sealed a memorable testimony of her faith and devotion to the things that really matter.  To the One who really matters.  For eternity.  May we, like Mary, gain our perspective as we learn to sit at Jesus’ feet.

Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
Oh, what words I hear Him say!
Happy place! so near, so precious!
May it find me there each day;
Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
I would look upon the past;
For His love has been so gracious,
It has won my heart at last.

Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
Where can mortal be more blest?
There I lay my sins and sorrows,
And, when weary, find sweet rest;
Sitting at the feet of Jesus,
There I love to weep and pray;
While I from His fullness gather
Grace and comfort every day.

Bless me, O my Savior, bless me,
As *I sit low at Thy feet; [*I'm waiting]
Oh, look down in love upon me,
Let me see Thy face so sweet;
Give me, Lord, the mind of Jesus,
Keep me holy as He is;
May I prove I've been with Jesus,
Who is all my righteousness.

By:  Floria Cameron D / Hull Asa

My Christmas Miracle

December 16, 2019

The holidays have been mighty quiet at my house.  Usually, the hustle bustle of activity, the slamming of doors, loud voices, tracks on the floor and fingerprints on the windows, lingering coffee breaks, and the aroma of holiday food surrounds me with more people than can comfortably be accommodated in my home.   So.....the quiet takes some adjustment.

Our plans all changed this year for a really good reason.  When Jonathan and Katrina announced their engagement in October, with wedding plans for February 2020, we adjusted our schedules to have a family homecoming at their wedding rather than at the holidays.  And since I had had recent visits with all of my children, I planned to have some Silent and Holy Nights of holidays at home alone.  (Well, I am never really alone.  I have my sister just across the driveway, I have Wicket, Tinker and Rixie...my trusty animals that are always present...and usually people in and out for one reason or another.)  And always, God has promised to be with me, and He is really faithful with His sweet presence.

But a couple of weeks ago, I got a text from Christi Anna that shook my center.  You see, my ultimate and everything wish on this earth is to have my family all under one roof...at least once in a while!  I am not sure why.  We are always in communication.  We text, we facetime.  We talk while riding down the road.  I keep the airlines in business.  But there is just something about being together...at home.  It is total chaos, in a small space.  It is loud.  It is a lot of work.  It is expensive.  It is inconvenient.  But nothing in the world brings more joy to this mother heart of mine than to have them all here...every single one of them.  At my house.

But Christi Anna's text read:  "Michael's request for leave for the wedding was denied.  His deployment date has been moved up and he will likely be gone by the 20th of February."  My heart sank.  It is just not the same when one is missing.  Jonathan had planned for Jeremy and Michael to officiate the ceremony, be best men, and to switch in the middle.  It was just the most disappointed I have been in years.  I have had some hard-to-deal with news...some that brought with it an intense ache... sobering grief...and lingering pain...like when Jonathan told me he was called to global missions and left for Australia.  When Jeremy, Keldy, Kezek, Ryser, Maccabee and Radley moved to the west coast...and when Michael, Christi Anna, Nolan, Josiah and Zachary moved to Texas... like when my parents left for Heaven.  But with those changes, I knew it was God's plan.  When we dedicated our babies to God, I meant it.  I wanted nothing more than for them to serve in ministry, in His Kingdom work, and to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth.  In fact,  I prayed over and over:

                                                 
                                                        Oh Lord, that you would bless us
                                                            And enlarge our territory.
                                                        May your Hand be upon us
                                                            And keep us from evil...

Especially those years when they were straying....I literally begged God to reach them.  He did.  He was faithful.  And when he drew them home and called them to serve, I could only be grateful.  (Even though I do feel like He overdid that "territory" part...:)

But this disappointment staring me in the face at this moment, and bringing sadness to my children, (Oh, and they are my children...the ones born to me, the ones married to them...and their children., too.  All mine.  No such thing as in-laws.  Whether born, married, or adopted into my line, they are mine.  Thank you God for that those rich blessings and priceless treasures that are worth way more than anything this earth has to offer!) was heavy.  It was hard and it felt unbearable.  I began to pray, as Katrina suggested, for a miracle.

Now, I am not one to pray much for miracles.  Over the years, I have tried to learn to pray for God's purpose.  If that is a miracle, then so be it!  Oh, and I do believe in them!  I have seen many in my lifetime.  Especially the past three years, though, many of my prayers have become actually wordless.  Oh, not that I don't have words.  Believe me.  I have journals of written prayers.  I have a prayer box of requests that I offer up before His throne...knowing that they become as incense to be stored until His divine timing and answer.  But in praying the Lord's prayer, I have been stuck on this phrase, "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven..."  That's it.  That is my prayer.  God knows the prayer of my heart, it is ever before Him.  I don't want my prayers to be vain repetitions.  I want them to be effectual, fervent, answered prayers.  The kind like Elijah and Moses prayed.  And I have found that most of the work of prayer is submitting to His will.  If I can live there....that is where I want to be.

So what do I do with this feeling of despair?  this overwhelming loss of joy?  this weight of disappointment?  I wrestle with it.  I tell God my feelings and ask Him if He cares about the desire of my heart.  I ask Him if my family can be all together.....at least sometimes?  I tell Him just how much it means to me.  I tell him how sad I feel (and how cold hearted the army is...)

Then He speaks to me.  Are you still willing, today, to live for My purpose?  Are you still willing to give the children God has given you to serve My cause?  To administer My calling?  Are you willing to trust Me today, with this, and to believe that I can see the future?  That I may have an even greater purpose than your family being together?   Did I call you to be comfortable?  Did I promise that this life would be free from trouble....and sacrifice?

And so, about a week into this dialogue, I am able to give up my desire.  I am willing to acknowledge that He will bring about His purpose, His plan and His sovereign will....and I am able to let Him shape my heart, again, into His purpose, not mine.   I do want His will on earth as it is in heaven.  I truly do.  And then something amazing happens!   My peace returns.  My joy is full.  My hope is only in Him.  It is truly a miracle.  As usual, the miracle is not found in the changing of circumstances, (although it can be, oh and maybe it still will....but if not, it is ok.)  The real miracle is in the changing of the heart.  In the changing of my own heart.  The continual chiseling away at it to make it into His image....which is my purpose for living.   It is my Christmas miracle.

After this week of fighting with God, I was reading in Hebrews.  I had never read this scripture in the light of Christmas, but as only God can do, He brought these words to life in my heart:

                                      Long ago God spoke to our fathers by the prophets
                                      But in these days he has spoken to us by His Son.
                                       He is the radiance of the glory of God,
                                       The exact imprint of His nature,
                                       And He upholds the universe by the word of His power.
                                       After He has made purification for our sins,
                                       He sits at the right hand of the Majesty on High.
                                       Your throne, Oh God, is forever and ever
                                            the scepter of uprightness is the scepter of your kingdom.
                                        You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness;
                                    Therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness...       

                                                                                           --from Hebrews 1

Thank you, Jesus, that Your purpose trumps everything.  That Your will, not mine, is what I long for.  Thank you are the radiance of the glory of God.  Thank you for being the exact imprint of His nature and for holding the universe by the word of your power.  Thank you for anointing me with the oil of your gladness.  Thank you for this beautiful Christmas season.  May I continue to lay my all (my family) at your feet.  It is my worship.  You only are worthy.  I give my life back to you, again, because you have given yours for me.  Amen

Home is Where the Heart Is

Last weekend, I went home.  Not home as in North Carolina where I was born,  but home as in a place where I once lived and loved and laughed and lingered.  A place that I still  long for.   The older I get, the more I realize how important the people who have been intertwined into the tapestry of my story here on earth have enriched my life.  How is it that when you are sitting across the table with a friend, coffee in hand, you can appreciate the moment.....but it is only years later that the memory gets richer and fuller with meaning,  even as the years and miles wedge an unsolicited distance?

 I think home is really people more than a place... My sister told me today that she believes that the lack of respect we are seeing in our country today is due to the absence of community.  There is a new place of isolation.  The internet is a wonderful tool, (and I love that I can keep in touch with you!) but it becomes a crisis when our families sit under the same roof with their individual devices and barely look up, much less enter a conversation, or heaven forbid, have dinner together...at a table!  And what happened to family visits in each others homes until wee hours of the morning....and sometimes family sleepovers!  People in this day and age might not even be able to grasp such a thought or they might even think that's weird!  There are some things I would do differently if I were to go back to those years we raised our kids together in Lynn, Indiana, but there is a lot that I would do exactly the same way.  We did have community!!!

For almost two decades, in the prime of our lives, we journeyed life side by side.  We were shoulder to shoulder in the trenches.  We learned together how to be mothers.  We shared our homes, our recipes, our philosophies and our children.  Mostly our lives were connected because we were following Jesus and we shared church.  And there is just something indescribable about going to church together!  Serving...sharing our gifts...singing...praying...eating...and worshipping together--that's just about as good as it gets in this life!

There was so much I wanted to say to you (obviously that wasn't meant to be since I woke up with laryngitis!) and so much I wanted to hear from you.  I didn't have enough time with any of you!!!!
I had so many questions to ask and too little time to do it!  But it was wonderful to see your face, to hear bits and pieces of of your lives, and just to hug you one more time!

Let me just say what I wanted to say, in case I didn't tell you or you couldn't hear me...Thank you for being my friend.  Thank you for enriching my life.  Thank you for sharing joy and sorrow with me.  Thank you for all the times we laughed.....and cried.  Thank you for the prayers.  Thank you for your influence on my children.  Thank you for being my community when I was far from my family and when I needed support and encouragement.  You were there for me.....in so many ways.  Your life has blessed me so much.  I love the memories we share.  I love the stories our children tell.  Because of you I love those corn and bean fields and I love how you can see the sky for miles.  I love your sunrises and sunsets.....but mostly I love the people God gave me in those special years as my babies grew up to be adults.  You are forever in my heart!

 

Tears are a language....

Tears are a language that God understands.  One night when my Mom's health was failing, we received an unexpected miracle from God.

Mother had been diagnosed in the early 90's with Hepatitis C which she received from a blood transfusion after open heart surgery in 1978.  In June of 2004 she suffered a heart attack because one of her repaired arteries had failed.  The cardiac surgeon said it would be too "dicey" to repair it.  Instead, he recommended a blood thinner to keep her blood pumping.  I'll never forget her words during those months.  Her response was, "My liver won't be able to handle the Plavix."   The doctors (specialist's collaboration...) told her she was between a "rock and a hard place."  She told them that Jesus was her Rock and that the hard place was His opportunity.  She decided to take the recommended drug.   I think she was choosing a slow death rather than a fast one....so she could have more time with us.

By September, she was experiencing multiple complications of the medication and the liver disease.  One of the most problematic was the restless legs that kept her and Daddy walking the floors at night.  Yes, he got up with her and walked...every.single.time.  They lost so much sleep.

The particular night that God's spirit flooded her room with healing power was the night that Jonathan and Jeremy were commissioned to go to their first Discipleship Training School with YWAM in Australia.  It was a glorious night!  My wayward sons had come "Home," Christi Anna and Michael, just married the month before, came home to see them off.  You see, the boys had been really wayward.  The whole family was in a state of rejoicing, especially Mother, who had invested so much prayer time and effort in talking to God about their return.  But that night, she wasn't able to go to the service, which tells me how horrible she must have felt.  It was something she wouldn't have missed if she had one ounce of energy and strength to get there.  Instead she was in the bed.

After glorious testimonies by Jonathan and Jeremy, "Carry Your Candle" by Christi Anna who normally doesn't sing solos except in her car...we all came home to share with Mother (in Pierce family fashion...piled on the bed with her...) about how it went.  Then we prayed for her.  All of us.  It was my sister and me.  It was ALL of our children.  We all prayed.  I can only imagine how blessed she was to hear her own grandchildren pray for her.   Never in my life have I sensed the Spirit of God in a room more than I did that night.

Mother began singing, and we sang with her:

"When I saw the cleansing fountain open wide for all my sin,

I obeyed the Spirit's wooing when He said, Wilt thou be clean?

I will praise Him, I will praise Him,

Praise the Lamb for sinner's slain.

Give Him glory all ye people for His blood can wash away each stain."

Jonathan was sitting on the bed at Mother's feet.  When he prayed, his tears spilled on the floor.  Later that night when mother got up, she stood in Jonathan's tears.  And a strange thing happened.  The restlessness in her legs never returned in the remaining four months of her life.

Thank you, God for making her more comfortable. Thank you for the healing she found in those tears.   Thank you for allowing her to witness the fruit of her prayers that ruthlessly strengthened our family and drew us all closer to the One who has called us to His purpose.  Thank you for your faithfulness in bringing her own prayers full circle and healing tears that gave her relief.

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy."  Ps 126:5

We need to remember these stories.  Tell them to your children's children.  Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.  Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.  Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.....and when the Lord brings you to a land with flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant--then when you eat and are satisfied--be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who brought you out of slavery.

In the past 24 hours, I have been reminded of the importance of passing along the legacy we have been given.  Just had to share this with you today.

Daddy

Every summer about this time, my thoughts turn to fatherhood.  My dad, at 97, continues to make his mark in history.  When I think about my earliest memories, he is there, offering wisdom, protection, advice, autonomy....but most of all, unconditional love.  He was always a rock, so consistent and dependable.  Although he was small in stature, he was so tall in courage.  He never said much about his height, but faced life with a rugged determination, boldness and confidence that he could do anything with God's help.  He had one solid purpose, and that was to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.  For him, it was a singleness of purpose and everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, was centered around that.  He was called to preach, and that is what he did.  He was the same at home as he was in public.  I never saw a single discrepancy.

Another thing that impacted me a lot was his crazy adoration of my mom... we never questioned that.  It was a part of who he was.  It was only secondary to his covenant with Jesus, and he never waivered in his faithfulness of either.  He took care of her just like he took care of us.  Something solid is formed in a child's mind and heart when there is a circle of love at home and the father takes his leadership role seriously.

My oldest grandson went to church camp this week.  For the first time, he realized that not everyone had the fortune of a loving family home life.  And it broke his heart.  And it breaks my heart too.  I wish all children had the kind of daddy that I have.  I just know that there would be so much less pain in the world if that were true. 

Because of who my dad is, my relationship with God has been rolled out like red carpet.   My earthly dad has shown me what my heavenly Father is like. He knew how to give good gifts to his children and he did it often.  It wasn't until I was grown that I realized we weren't wealthy.  I grew up thinking  I was the richest kid in the world.  And I truly did have need of nothing.

Today, my dad has to depend on others for his total physical care.  Yet in his heart of hearts, he is not anxious, fearful or angry.  He simply rests.  My sister and I often get undue accolades because we care for him in his home.  Really?    We are the ones who are truly honored to still be in his sweet presence.  Even now, his blessing to family, friends and caregivers is a treasure that is a rare gem!

I can tell you that I would not trade this life for any other in this world.

Happy Father's Day, Dads!  Rise to the occasion!  You can change the world just by being a godly dad!

Beholding...and Holding

One of my favorite things about Christmas is getting ready for it.  Getting out the boxes of decorations, placing each significant and memorable ornament on the tree, lighting up the house and inviting as many family and friends over as I can possibly pack into one season.

This year, as I was “getting ready,” I pulled out the nativity sets.  I probably have too many…for such a small house, nevertheless, I got them out….and one by one set them in place on as many shelves as I could find.  I have the one that I used to place under the tree when my children were little, a hand-made one that Jeremy brought back from Uganda, the Precious Moments that my Mom’s dear friend Brenda gave her, and the crystal one given to my Mom only by Aunt Jewel.   I had already declared this Christmas to be sacred and holy.  I had vowed not to be so caught up in the hustle-bustle that I would miss out on the awesome worship and focus on the Savior of the world.

As I placed the manger scenes all over the house, I began to picture myself as a character in the set.  I could see myself kneeling before the manger, adoring the baby Jesus.  Sometimes as I pray, I picture myself kneeling before the throne of Heaven, or at the foot of the cross, or simply at the feet of Jesus.  I like to picture myself right before Him.   But this year, it just didn’t seem to be enough to kneel at the manger.  I had the strange urge in my spirit to just reach out and pick up the baby Jesus and hold Him in my arms.  Pick Him up?!?  Isn’t that just a little too personal?  Maybe a little inappropriate….I mean, He is GOD.  Really?   Just even the thought of it….well… honestly, it just seems a little too intimate.

Exactly.  So this season, I dared to reach out for the untouchable.  I embraced the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.  The Christ.  I have sat by the manger, holding the baby.  Holding God.  I have looked into the innocent face of this infant child, the Christ, the Messiah, the hope of the world.  I have tried to wrap my mind around a God, with all power, wisdom and glory, who would allow Himself to be captured in a tiny body of flesh...A God who would become completely dependent on a human race who had already rejected, forgotten and turned from Him...A God who would leave a kingly throne to come to a lowly stable in a corrupt world and live out a plan including death on a cross so that we could be restored to our originally created purpose.   While my mind cannot conceive, my heart believes.  This baby I am holding is amazingly my Savior, my God. Not only will I touch the hem of His garment, I will gather the swaddling clothes near my heart.  I will hold Him, cling to Him, and rest my hope and my future in this tiny baby.  This amazing story, this little baby, has captured my heart this season.  “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we (I, personally,) beheld His glory…”  John 1:14a