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The Call of Wisdom

Wisdom, Proverbs says, is supreme. “Though it cost all you have, get understanding.”(4:7) 

The wise person manages his weaknesses. He flees the streets of temptation. Some doors are always locked and the keys have been melted in fire. He knows “Just this once” is a dark lie. He understands his Father’s call.

Door, Dunbarton Oaks

The wise person recognizes her strengths. She develops her talents, with Godly boldness. When fear knocks, she locks him out. Though fear camps on the front porch, when the call comes, she strides through its slime. 

The wise person obeys the God who calls us out of darkness into his marvelous light. (1Peter 2:9) That obedience, though it may cost all we have, is worth all it costs.

Father, we are stupid and dull in ways we don’t fully realize. We need your wisdom today.

 

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If We Let Him

"I simply could not put it down."

"You are a great storyteller."

"I found myself wishing you wrote novels because your descriptions are stellar."

As I enjoy the comments from readers of Trading Fathers, I rejoice at God's goodness. Several times in the last several years, I despaired of finishing that writing. I was sure I was not a good storyteller. I could not tell it in a compelling way. And, did my selection of scenes tell the story adequately? I didn't know.

Pushing through all those self-deprecations required faith, hope, and love. Faith that God himself had called me to the task and would therefore give me the help I needed. Hope that the story could be a means of grace to many others. And love enough to risk spilling my guts.

I have a wonderful life. The heart is deceitfully wicked, who can know it, Jeremiah reports (17:9), so I'm suspicious of my discernment about my motives. However, as far as I can tell, I did not need to write Trading Fathers. I wanted to write it. But seeing my name in print on the cover of a book does not validate my existence.

Sure is fun, though. Fun may not be the right word. Powerful, rewarding, satisfying.Grateful to add my story of pain and redemption to the multitude of stories that display God's glory in the earth.

He is a redeemer. He takes the worst pain Satan can create in a life and brings his healing, hope, and peace. If we let him.

Come Holy Spirit. Let your compassion, your suffering with us, lighten the loads we carry.

 

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Three Passionate Prayers that Saved my Life—and Might Save Yours

As a counselor, I’ve listened carefully to painful stories
of mistreatment. People have confessed deeply shameful sin. And I’ve encouraged
my clients to think objectively about their self-destructive patterns.

In Isaiah 9:6, Jesus is called a “wonderful counselor.” In
my own growth toward holiness, Jesus has been my counselor. I’ve poured out my
heart to him. I’ve been scrupulously honest, no matter how ashamed I’ve felt. And
I’ve asked Jesus to show me how he, the only objective observer, views my sin
and unbelief and fear, so I can see myself as he sees me.

Here are three of my passionate prayers:

1. “Where were you when I was suffering?” In childhood, I’d
been seriously mistreated. I wrestled with God for ten years about where he was
when I was abused. He showed me.

2.  “God, I hate you!”
Parenting challenged all my control issues. One day, I fell by the side of my
bed, gnashing my teeth because I couldn’t make my daughter behave. He delivered
me.

3. “I lay myself open before you. Clean me out, fill me up.”
Behind all my intense questioning of God, I knew he was my only hope for a
peaceful, powerful life. I still pray this often.

Be intense in our pursuit of God, be honest with him about
our feelings, and, with him, think objectively about our circumstances. These
three attitudes of prayer will save our emotional lives.

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Beginning to Believe

I’m
fifty-eight. I’m beginning to believe in myself.

One of
the results of childhood abuse has been a difficulty with believing in my own
judgment. My childish belief, “I should have known not to go with my father
that terrible day,” has warped my self-image.

The
length of time this healing has taken is a measure of the depth of the
infirmity. God has taught me, with patient and persistent repetition, to
recognize my decision-making abilities.  (I
just edited the second sentence, from “one of the results is” to “one of the results has
been.” That says it all.)

How hard
it is to see oneself with God’s objectivity. The sin against us, especially
against our vulnerable child selves, leaves subtle and lasting marks. Those
who’ve been neglected often feel worth less than their parent’s time:  worthless. Those who’ve been bullied by
classmates struggle with powerlessness. In this fallen world, we struggle with the
many consequences of others’ sin.

And yet,
God. God, who is making us into the image of Jesus. God, for whom nothing is
too difficult. God, who promises never to leave or forsake you. God, who
believes in you. That God is healing us, making us fit for his kingdom.

Father, show
us today how to cooperate in the healing you are working into our hearts.

 

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Make it a Good Day

“Make it a good day.” For a while, an NPR reporter signed
off the daily business report with those words. They don’t say that now. And yet,
in spite of reports of job loss, foreclosure, and retirees going back to work,
we can make it a good day. Because God is good. Because of God’s goodness,
making a day good may be difficult, but it’s not impossible.

 

 I’ve never lost a job, though I have been very
poor, to the extent of a few months on welfare. God provided. During a drought
in Israel, the ravens fed Elijah. The good God provided. Jesus says, “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33, KJV) If we seek him, he has taken on this responsibility—to provide “all these things”—food and
clothing. We can expect him to fulfill his good promise. We fulfill our responsibility
by putting him and his kingdom first.

 

What
does that mean? It means letting God shape all our attitudes. In this economic
climate, it means fighting fear and cultivating faith. It means reading the Bible.
Reading other stories of faith. For some of us, it means giving him the first
half-hour of our day. Maybe it means practicing the presence of God, like
Brother Lawrence, minute by minute, as we wash dishes, wipe baby’s bottom, and
do the laundry. It means saying, “Jesus, you know my heart and you know my
needs. You are the source of my life and strength. Thank you.”

 

It means
asking God what it means for us, so that he himself will teach us and give us the
power to make today a good day.

 

Father,
we need your perspective. Today, may we see your goodness.

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Content to be Discontent?

God honors
boldness. In Luke 19, when Zacchaeus ran ahead of the crowd following Jesus to
climb the sycamore tree, he expected to get a better view, not a better life. But
Jesus, seeing his audacity, walked into Zacchaeus’ house and heart. Zacchaeus
collected taxes for the Roman occupiers, keeping for himself whatever he could
extort beyond the Roman levy. Like a Frenchman collaborating with the Nazis during
WWII, he was ostracized. Jesus’ closeness convicted Zacchaeus of his separation
from the community. He vowed to make restitution, thus opening the way to
restoration. 

Zacchaeus was bold because he was discontent. He wanted
something he could not get without a risky move. Are we discontent? Are we
content to be discontent? Do we tolerate an unsatisfying job for fear of
change? Do we go through the motions of Christianity without giving our hearts?
Are we happy enough in our ministry? Is there a place where we want to see God’s
power? How can we let our discontent move from crowd-following to risky faith? 

Makes me nervous just thinking about climbing a tree, alone,
exposed. But if that boldness is what it takes for Jesus to come close… 

Father, send your bold Holy Spirit into our hearts, right
now. Whatever boldness we exert comes from you.  

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