"DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP" is a flag favorite in my hometown of Erie, PA. You'll see the blue flag with those words in all capitals flown outside of businesses, homes and plastered on the back of pick-up trucks. It is a quotable favorite all around America but it holds a special place in the Erieites heart because it was here, during the Battle of Lake Erie, where that battle cry was first expressed.
There is much debate over who said it first and who should get the glory for this famous line. In reality Captain Lawrence said it first but he didn't imprint it on a flag. Perry liked the saying so much he wanted to fly it high for all of his men to claim and all of his enemies to fear. He wasn't going to let his fleet go down. They weren't going to give up the ship. Not if Perry had anything to do with it.
Lawrence himself died giving up the ship. Those were his last words so he never had the chance to see how they played out in the heat of battle. They didn't go over well. His men did indeed give up the ship.
But not Perry. Perry fought hard at the Battle of Lake Erie and now the flag with his favorite phrase flies as a testimony to his victory on the monument dedicated to his leadership.
On this Memorial Day that flag conveys a special meaning. It flies all year long but most days I don't think on it and really meditate on its meaning. Perry fought for nearly a year to win the territory I now call home. He refused to give up his ships and let Britain send him into retreat. Perry saw the mistakes of Lawrence and didn't repeat them. He remained steadfast and tirelessly fought to win.
I'll never be in the navy. Well, never say never...but I can be quite certain in proclaiming that a naval future isn't in my cards. That doesn't mean that I don't have a ship to protect and keep afloat. That flag could be flown on the roof of my house, on the hood of my car or right out of my back pocket. The body I live in is my own personal vessel that I am fighting for, refusing to give up.
All of us are in the fight of our lives. Our enemy is just as real as the British were on the waters of Lake Erie. Satan is trying to take us down and force up to give up our ship. But, just like Perry, we can fly a flag of resolve and determination that refuses to give into the enemy. We have everything to fight for - this life and the eternal life to come.
The battle we face is not against the circumstances of our lives or a ship full of weapons and angry opponents. Ephesians 6:12 warns us, "For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places."
Our enemy is dead set on our defeat but God is more powerful than our enemy and He has given us His Holy Spirit as the ultimate flag of triumph. When we put on the full armor of God and go to battle under the leadership of the Mighty Lord we are destined for victory. Satan doesn't stand a chance. He will sink like the British. But to see the victory through to the end we must stand firm in the Lord and decide not to give up the ship. Perry's victory didn't come overnight and ours might not either. This is a battle, not a scrimmage. This is war, not a game.
Beloved, if you are in this for the long haul, determined to see God get the glory for the victory in your life then fly your flag with faith, trust and hope because the battle is already won. God has defeated the enemy and when we remain faithful in the fight we will see how His strategy is perfect and His tactics are always just right. All He is asking of you is, "don't give up the ship."
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Strength in the silence
Have you ever asked yourself, "If I had to choose to lose one physical capability, what would it be?" Would you opt to give up the ability to walk or talk? Would you choose blindness or deafness? Every option sounds terrible from the perspective of someone with full physical capabilities. The thought of becoming physically impaired just sounds like pure suffering.
In my mind I've grappled with this question, trying to decide which faculty I would give up if I were forced to pick one. After weighing the positives and negatives of every scenario I've always come to the same conclusion. Indecision. I can't imagine life without walking, talking, hearing and seeing. How could my life be full without those fundamental functions? How could I be happy, content and fulfilled if I couldn't hear or see? And not talk!? The thought alone is depressing.
It's been quite some time since I've thought on living without a basic physical function but today the question was brought to my mind once again as I greeted a smiling woman waiting in line at the food pantry.
Immediately I started out with a, "Good morning! How are you today?" She didn't respond. The woman just looked at me and then looked at the man behind her who quickly informed me that my guest was deaf and mute. He then gave the woman a little pat on the back and pointed towards me, indicating that she should follow me. My task at hand was now to make her feel comfortable and taken care of in spite of not being able to communicate. I love a challenge and this interaction certainly provided one.
As we made our way down the row of food offerings I picked up each can, box and bag, held it before the woman with the label clearly displayed and made a motion indicating that I was going to put it in her bag. She quickly picked up on my tactic. If she wanted the item she nodded yes. If she didn't want the item she nodded dramatically in the opposite direction. When we reached offerings that provided her with a choice between two options I held up both, one in each hand and moved my hands up and down to signify "one or the other." The woman caught on quickly to this communication technique, too. She pointed to her desired option and I put it in the bag.
Throughout our stroll down the row of food my guest's spirit was vibrant, gracious and grateful. She exuded a spirit of thankfulness without ever speaking a word. She smiled brightly, the kind of smile characterized by a genuine sparkle in the eyes. There was a calm and peace that poured out of her very presence. She didn't need to be able to talk to me or even hear me to connect. She did it by way of her upbeat attitude and friendly face.
As I watched this woman, whose name I couldn't ask and she couldn't say, walk out the door I chose my answer to that hypothetical question that has remained unsettled in my mind for years. I'd pick what that woman had. I'd choose to be mute and deaf but filled with compassion, joy and gratitude. What that woman showed me in a few short silent minutes laid to rest a question that I didn't even know I was struggling to answer. Can a life of purpose be lived in the face of limitations and barriers? The answer is yes.
In my mind I've grappled with this question, trying to decide which faculty I would give up if I were forced to pick one. After weighing the positives and negatives of every scenario I've always come to the same conclusion. Indecision. I can't imagine life without walking, talking, hearing and seeing. How could my life be full without those fundamental functions? How could I be happy, content and fulfilled if I couldn't hear or see? And not talk!? The thought alone is depressing.
It's been quite some time since I've thought on living without a basic physical function but today the question was brought to my mind once again as I greeted a smiling woman waiting in line at the food pantry.
Immediately I started out with a, "Good morning! How are you today?" She didn't respond. The woman just looked at me and then looked at the man behind her who quickly informed me that my guest was deaf and mute. He then gave the woman a little pat on the back and pointed towards me, indicating that she should follow me. My task at hand was now to make her feel comfortable and taken care of in spite of not being able to communicate. I love a challenge and this interaction certainly provided one.
As we made our way down the row of food offerings I picked up each can, box and bag, held it before the woman with the label clearly displayed and made a motion indicating that I was going to put it in her bag. She quickly picked up on my tactic. If she wanted the item she nodded yes. If she didn't want the item she nodded dramatically in the opposite direction. When we reached offerings that provided her with a choice between two options I held up both, one in each hand and moved my hands up and down to signify "one or the other." The woman caught on quickly to this communication technique, too. She pointed to her desired option and I put it in the bag.
Throughout our stroll down the row of food my guest's spirit was vibrant, gracious and grateful. She exuded a spirit of thankfulness without ever speaking a word. She smiled brightly, the kind of smile characterized by a genuine sparkle in the eyes. There was a calm and peace that poured out of her very presence. She didn't need to be able to talk to me or even hear me to connect. She did it by way of her upbeat attitude and friendly face.
As I watched this woman, whose name I couldn't ask and she couldn't say, walk out the door I chose my answer to that hypothetical question that has remained unsettled in my mind for years. I'd pick what that woman had. I'd choose to be mute and deaf but filled with compassion, joy and gratitude. What that woman showed me in a few short silent minutes laid to rest a question that I didn't even know I was struggling to answer. Can a life of purpose be lived in the face of limitations and barriers? The answer is yes.
I'm not the first to ask this question and struggle for an answer. Moses wondered, too and God answered. "Who has made man's mouth? Or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what to say." (Exodus 4:11-12). Despite the reassurance of God Moses didn't want to be sent out with his lack of eloquence and insufficient abilities. But God's word was as true then as it was in 2 Corinthians and as it is today. "My power is made perfect in weakness."
Sometimes God chooses to use physically weak vessels to display His mighty strength. Being mute, blind, deaf or paralyzed certainly appears to be a weakness from our human perspective but what God sees in our inabilities in His overwhelming abilities.
Today my guest at the food pantry had two major weaknesses but she had super strength through the love of Christ. God used her lack of speech to put on display the beauty of His spirit. She spoke silently and shined brilliantly the light of God that is brightest when it is on display in weakness.
Weakness is not always easy. There are challenges and obstacles that come in being weak but there is overcoming strength when we release our weakness into the hands of God and allow Him to use it for His glory. He can show His grace and mercy when we give Him our inabilities, disabilities and limitations. We can boost in our weakness because when we are weak then He, our mighty God, is strong.
Friday, May 8, 2015
In a field full of dandelions
April showers bring May flowers...and May dandelions. As a child I believed that dandelions were just a part of the flower family. Like most kids I made bouquets of dandelions for my Mom believing that I was delivering her a thoughtful gift of nature's bounty, not a handful of my yard's pesky nemesis.
Once I grew up I learned the sneaky truth about those yellow-headed "flowers." They aren't flowers at all. They are weeds that ChemLawn has made a killing off of killing. Dandelions weren't sent to earth as free bouquets. If that were the case a whole lot of women could save some serious money on their wedding arrangements. They could simply stop by a big, open field on the way to the ceremony and save the florist fee. But, alas, dandelions aren't flowers. They are weeds.
Today as I drove along a hilly road with wide open fields and rolling landscapes I came across an expanse of open land covered with dandelions. The lush green grass beneath was barely visible. The yellow dots were in abundance, shining in the bright sun. Those dandelions were breathtakingly beautiful. It made me want to pull over and take a picture and then lay on that blanket of delicate petals. The field looked so inviting, as if it were saying, "It's spring! Come and enjoy!"
That quick moment in my car gazing upon the dandelions passed before I could make the decision to pull to the side of the road and stay a little bit longer. But the moment in my mind didn't pass. I drove on picturing those dandelions, brightened by their beauty.
How could a pesky lawn invader bring so much joy? How could they be so beautiful?
In life and in flowers it is tempting to think we know what is best. We know what life circumstances will make us happy and what flowers are appropriate for every occasion. Gerber daisies are happy flowers. Roses are reserved for love. In life we want health that will make us happy. We want love that will make us complete. We think we know what is best. In our feeble, limited minds we have defined the good and the bad and anything that doesn't fit our mold is deemed undesirable.
But just look at the dandelion. Something considered a weed is actually something beautiful. And, might I add, not just beautiful but healing and therapeutic, too! Did you know that dandelions are used to heal the liver, stomach and even cancer? Yes, that's right. Dandelions have been known to rid the body of cancer. And botanists want to call it a weed. That, my friend, is some powerful yellow floret.
As with nearly everything in life and even in weeds, there is a lesson to be learned. What we believe is best is not the only best and sometimes it isn't even the very best. God often uses the things that appear pesky, troublesome, trying or downright weed-like to bring about His purposes. He may use the plight of singleness to grow an individual spiritually. He may use a trial of sickness to increase our awareness and reliance on Him.
The dandelion is proof that what we want isn't always what we need want what we need isn't always necessarily what we want. God works in mysterious and amazing ways, even using the weeds of life to bring about healing and wholeness. Thank God for His dandelions, both those in a big abandoned field and those in the depths of your heart because they aren't pesky and they aren't a weed, they are a precious gift and quite possible the very thing you need most.
Once I grew up I learned the sneaky truth about those yellow-headed "flowers." They aren't flowers at all. They are weeds that ChemLawn has made a killing off of killing. Dandelions weren't sent to earth as free bouquets. If that were the case a whole lot of women could save some serious money on their wedding arrangements. They could simply stop by a big, open field on the way to the ceremony and save the florist fee. But, alas, dandelions aren't flowers. They are weeds.
Today as I drove along a hilly road with wide open fields and rolling landscapes I came across an expanse of open land covered with dandelions. The lush green grass beneath was barely visible. The yellow dots were in abundance, shining in the bright sun. Those dandelions were breathtakingly beautiful. It made me want to pull over and take a picture and then lay on that blanket of delicate petals. The field looked so inviting, as if it were saying, "It's spring! Come and enjoy!"
That quick moment in my car gazing upon the dandelions passed before I could make the decision to pull to the side of the road and stay a little bit longer. But the moment in my mind didn't pass. I drove on picturing those dandelions, brightened by their beauty.
How could a pesky lawn invader bring so much joy? How could they be so beautiful?
In life and in flowers it is tempting to think we know what is best. We know what life circumstances will make us happy and what flowers are appropriate for every occasion. Gerber daisies are happy flowers. Roses are reserved for love. In life we want health that will make us happy. We want love that will make us complete. We think we know what is best. In our feeble, limited minds we have defined the good and the bad and anything that doesn't fit our mold is deemed undesirable.
But just look at the dandelion. Something considered a weed is actually something beautiful. And, might I add, not just beautiful but healing and therapeutic, too! Did you know that dandelions are used to heal the liver, stomach and even cancer? Yes, that's right. Dandelions have been known to rid the body of cancer. And botanists want to call it a weed. That, my friend, is some powerful yellow floret.
As with nearly everything in life and even in weeds, there is a lesson to be learned. What we believe is best is not the only best and sometimes it isn't even the very best. God often uses the things that appear pesky, troublesome, trying or downright weed-like to bring about His purposes. He may use the plight of singleness to grow an individual spiritually. He may use a trial of sickness to increase our awareness and reliance on Him.
The dandelion is proof that what we want isn't always what we need want what we need isn't always necessarily what we want. God works in mysterious and amazing ways, even using the weeds of life to bring about healing and wholeness. Thank God for His dandelions, both those in a big abandoned field and those in the depths of your heart because they aren't pesky and they aren't a weed, they are a precious gift and quite possible the very thing you need most.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Hope in the face of hopelessness
Hopelessness is an unsustainable state of being. The depression and melancholy spirit associated with an absence of hope can't go on forever. It always passes, one way or another.
There are two ways to relieve hopelessness. One way is tragic and the other is inspiring. Hopelessness can be remedied via exiting the hopeless circumstance and situation. This is a real option for, on average, over 40,000 people a year. The despair associated with hopelessness takes over and the only way out that can be seen is the way that leads to death. Some take their lives in hopes of getting to the perfection of heaven. Others take their life with no thought of eternity. They act purely on the here and now, with no regard to what might comes next.
The thought of hopelessness leading to suicide is depressing, even for those who are full of hope. There are no words deep enough and strong enough to describe that kind of despair. Sadness just doesn't do it justice.
For the hopeless there is another way out. Ending life isn't the only option for ending hopelessness. The second option is one of mounting up on the wings of eagles. It is the decision to name and claim renewed hope.
Maybe that sounds too simple or just plain silly. Naming hope and claiming it won't change the current circumstances or relieve whatever pain and suffering has caused the hopelessness in the first place. Physical ailments could very well still persist in the face of naming and claiming hope. Loss, trials and heartache might still persist even after hope has been renamed and reclaimed.
Choosing hope isn't a magic trick to deliver us from our circumstances. Choosing hope is the gateway to bring us through our circumstances.
In my relatively short life (just a quarter of a century) I've had many reasons to lose hope. I've seen more doctors than I can count in an attempt to bring relief to my ailing body. Still my troubles persist. I've been in relationships that have become broken and failed all-together. And today I'm still single. I've experienced the loss of friendships and the loss of dreams. I've experienced physical pain and unexplainable suffering in the pit of my stomach.
Yet, in the midst of my hopelessness I've learned something about myself. I can't help but hope. Every time I fall into a pit of despair something inside of me starts to scream, "Get out!" Every time I start to feel sorry for myself and want to just lay down and give up a voice inside of me says, "Arise, keep going." There is a whisper speaking to my heart and it is speaking words of hope.
I'll be honest and admit that I don't always listen to that little voice when it first starts to speak. Sometimes that voice has to get mighty loud before I pay attention and heed its directive. But in the end the voice always gets through. I can't stay in the pit forever. I can't lay on my bed in a mess of tears and self-pity forever. I have to arise. I have to dig out. I have to have hope.
It is in the midst of hopelessness that I need to be reminded more than ever of the true meaning of hope. It is what Romans 8:24-25 says," For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience."
Hope is not my circumstances. Hope is the eternal glory God has promised. Hope is the crucifixion and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. My hope is found not in what I am experiencing in the here and now but the grace I have received by way of the blood of my perfect Savior. It is because of the sacrifice of Jesus that I can hope in the face of hopelessness and rejoice in the midst of despair. I can choose hope because Jesus died and rose again. I can rise above my suffering, pain and tribulation because the Holy Spirit is living and dwelling inside of me, mounting me up on the wings of eagles and taking me to heights that soar above the earthly ailments that plague me.
"My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness." When I want to lose hope I can choose to lay down and give up for good. But not even Jesus laid down for good after being nailed to a cross and crucified despite being perfect and blameless. No, Jesus rose again and by His power, grace and mercy I will arise, too. I will arise above my hopelessness and in His perfect time I will arise to eternal glory with Him where I will forever praise the God who sustained me on this earth and gave me strength to overcome.
There are two ways to relieve hopelessness. One way is tragic and the other is inspiring. Hopelessness can be remedied via exiting the hopeless circumstance and situation. This is a real option for, on average, over 40,000 people a year. The despair associated with hopelessness takes over and the only way out that can be seen is the way that leads to death. Some take their lives in hopes of getting to the perfection of heaven. Others take their life with no thought of eternity. They act purely on the here and now, with no regard to what might comes next.
The thought of hopelessness leading to suicide is depressing, even for those who are full of hope. There are no words deep enough and strong enough to describe that kind of despair. Sadness just doesn't do it justice.
For the hopeless there is another way out. Ending life isn't the only option for ending hopelessness. The second option is one of mounting up on the wings of eagles. It is the decision to name and claim renewed hope.
Maybe that sounds too simple or just plain silly. Naming hope and claiming it won't change the current circumstances or relieve whatever pain and suffering has caused the hopelessness in the first place. Physical ailments could very well still persist in the face of naming and claiming hope. Loss, trials and heartache might still persist even after hope has been renamed and reclaimed.
Choosing hope isn't a magic trick to deliver us from our circumstances. Choosing hope is the gateway to bring us through our circumstances.
In my relatively short life (just a quarter of a century) I've had many reasons to lose hope. I've seen more doctors than I can count in an attempt to bring relief to my ailing body. Still my troubles persist. I've been in relationships that have become broken and failed all-together. And today I'm still single. I've experienced the loss of friendships and the loss of dreams. I've experienced physical pain and unexplainable suffering in the pit of my stomach.
Yet, in the midst of my hopelessness I've learned something about myself. I can't help but hope. Every time I fall into a pit of despair something inside of me starts to scream, "Get out!" Every time I start to feel sorry for myself and want to just lay down and give up a voice inside of me says, "Arise, keep going." There is a whisper speaking to my heart and it is speaking words of hope.
I'll be honest and admit that I don't always listen to that little voice when it first starts to speak. Sometimes that voice has to get mighty loud before I pay attention and heed its directive. But in the end the voice always gets through. I can't stay in the pit forever. I can't lay on my bed in a mess of tears and self-pity forever. I have to arise. I have to dig out. I have to have hope.
It is in the midst of hopelessness that I need to be reminded more than ever of the true meaning of hope. It is what Romans 8:24-25 says," For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience."
Hope is not my circumstances. Hope is the eternal glory God has promised. Hope is the crucifixion and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. My hope is found not in what I am experiencing in the here and now but the grace I have received by way of the blood of my perfect Savior. It is because of the sacrifice of Jesus that I can hope in the face of hopelessness and rejoice in the midst of despair. I can choose hope because Jesus died and rose again. I can rise above my suffering, pain and tribulation because the Holy Spirit is living and dwelling inside of me, mounting me up on the wings of eagles and taking me to heights that soar above the earthly ailments that plague me.
"My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness." When I want to lose hope I can choose to lay down and give up for good. But not even Jesus laid down for good after being nailed to a cross and crucified despite being perfect and blameless. No, Jesus rose again and by His power, grace and mercy I will arise, too. I will arise above my hopelessness and in His perfect time I will arise to eternal glory with Him where I will forever praise the God who sustained me on this earth and gave me strength to overcome.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
You are welcome here
"I didn't bring a bag. It is my first time here. I didn't know...I-I forgot my bag." The woman's voice spoke at a racing clip, shaking from nervousness and apprehension.
I quickly reassured her that it was absolutely fine that she didn't have a bag. We had plenty of plastic bags at the food pantry and I'd be happy to get her some.
"I'll bring my bag with me next time."
"Even if you don't we'll be happy to provide a bag for you."
A calm seemed to come over my new guest. "I'll be happy to take whatever you have to offer."
For the rest of my time with my new guest I was repeatedly thanked for each item with a spirit of genuine gratefulness. She was thankful for the two boxes of noodles and surprised that she was able to choose her own bread from a variety of options fresh off the Giant Eagle donation truck. When we reached the last table I handed her a box of pancake mix and she gave me a heartfelt thanks. "Thank you so much. I'm new to this and...thank you."
Nothing out-of-the ordinary had been discussed in that woman's short time at the pantry. We didn't talk about her struggles, dreams, or even faith in Jesus Christ. All we did was fill some plastic bags with cans, boxes, fresh fruits and vegetables. But that was all that woman needed. The woman who entered the pantry anxious and filled with nerves left with a renewed calm and peace that was evident on her face. She didn't need me to provide a mini-sermon, she just needed to be accepted.
Isn't that what we are all longing for deep down inside? We are all yearning to be taken in and loved just as we are. When we come to Christ we often come with the same worries that my new friend at the food pantry held in her heart this morning. She came without a bag to hold her food; we come to Christ with more sin than we can carry and we wonder, "Will He take me in this way? Will He love me even though I have a dark past and a troubled present?" Yes, He will take us in. Just as easily I gave that woman a few plastic bags, God will take away our sins and forgive us. It is no trouble for Him, He is happy to relieve us of our guilt and shame when we willingly come before Him seeking repentance, forgiveness and a new way forward.
John 6:37 quotes Jesus as saying, "All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away." Receiving what Jesus has to offer - grace, mercy and new life - is as simple as coming to Him. He won't turn us away because we are too old, too lost or too broken. If we come He will always take us in and begin His redemptive work in our lives.
The transformation that God has in mind for each one of His wayward sheep begins when we walk through the door and into His presence. Just like a first-timer at the food pantry the gift can't be received until the person makes the decision to come into the building. Once they are inside they will find that they didn't need to come prepared to be served. They don't even need to know how the system works. They will learn. All that person needs to do is show up and they will be provided food to eat.
Entering God's presence we are offered the greatest food of all, the bread of life. It is free to all who seek to partake because the debt has been paid and the door is open. We simply must take the first step as a newcomer and cross that threshold. When we do we will enter into the presence of God and be accepted, taken in and loved on by our Heavenly Father and Provider who never turns a single one of His beloved children away.
I quickly reassured her that it was absolutely fine that she didn't have a bag. We had plenty of plastic bags at the food pantry and I'd be happy to get her some.
"I'll bring my bag with me next time."
"Even if you don't we'll be happy to provide a bag for you."
A calm seemed to come over my new guest. "I'll be happy to take whatever you have to offer."
For the rest of my time with my new guest I was repeatedly thanked for each item with a spirit of genuine gratefulness. She was thankful for the two boxes of noodles and surprised that she was able to choose her own bread from a variety of options fresh off the Giant Eagle donation truck. When we reached the last table I handed her a box of pancake mix and she gave me a heartfelt thanks. "Thank you so much. I'm new to this and...thank you."
Nothing out-of-the ordinary had been discussed in that woman's short time at the pantry. We didn't talk about her struggles, dreams, or even faith in Jesus Christ. All we did was fill some plastic bags with cans, boxes, fresh fruits and vegetables. But that was all that woman needed. The woman who entered the pantry anxious and filled with nerves left with a renewed calm and peace that was evident on her face. She didn't need me to provide a mini-sermon, she just needed to be accepted.
Isn't that what we are all longing for deep down inside? We are all yearning to be taken in and loved just as we are. When we come to Christ we often come with the same worries that my new friend at the food pantry held in her heart this morning. She came without a bag to hold her food; we come to Christ with more sin than we can carry and we wonder, "Will He take me in this way? Will He love me even though I have a dark past and a troubled present?" Yes, He will take us in. Just as easily I gave that woman a few plastic bags, God will take away our sins and forgive us. It is no trouble for Him, He is happy to relieve us of our guilt and shame when we willingly come before Him seeking repentance, forgiveness and a new way forward.
John 6:37 quotes Jesus as saying, "All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away." Receiving what Jesus has to offer - grace, mercy and new life - is as simple as coming to Him. He won't turn us away because we are too old, too lost or too broken. If we come He will always take us in and begin His redemptive work in our lives.
The transformation that God has in mind for each one of His wayward sheep begins when we walk through the door and into His presence. Just like a first-timer at the food pantry the gift can't be received until the person makes the decision to come into the building. Once they are inside they will find that they didn't need to come prepared to be served. They don't even need to know how the system works. They will learn. All that person needs to do is show up and they will be provided food to eat.
Entering God's presence we are offered the greatest food of all, the bread of life. It is free to all who seek to partake because the debt has been paid and the door is open. We simply must take the first step as a newcomer and cross that threshold. When we do we will enter into the presence of God and be accepted, taken in and loved on by our Heavenly Father and Provider who never turns a single one of His beloved children away.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
What is in a name?
Shakespeare famously penned the words, "What is in a name?" His question wasn't looking for an answer but if it were I would argue that there is a magnitude of importance in a name.
Just ask Teresa. I met Teresa at the food pantry on a sub-zero, frigid Erie, PA morning in January. The streets were coated in ice and the turnout at the food pantry was a reflection of the brutal weather conditions. Not even the hungry were venturing out to receive free food. The streets were treacherous and the wind was whipping. Walking even just a few blocks could put even the hardiest of souls at risk for frostbite.
Despite the terrible conditions some tough spirited men and women made their way to the food pantry. I was heartbroken to see some people shivering in flimsy jackets and threadbare gloves. There was pain on the faces of so many that came through the line that day. The winter took its toll not just on the body but on the soul, too. Every time the door to the food pantry opened, letting in a blast of frigid air, I was reminded that out in those conditions at that very moment someone was treading on foot through the bitter cold to reach the pantry. My entire morning was spent in a silent prayer for protection for the homeless and destitute just trying to survive this winter.
There was despair hanging over the food pantry like a gray storm cloud. That is until a woman in a black fuzzy hat and huge puffy coat made her way to the front of the line. I looked up to take her number and was greeted with a beaming smile and bright eyes. "Good morning, sweetheart!" she said. Her voice was full of joy and her spirit was one of praise and thanksgiving. She was a light shining in the dark, a warm breeze on that freezing cold morning.
That is how I came to know Teresa. For the rest of her time at the food pantry Teresa and I talked about her grandsons, both of whom she is raising. She told me about how they love "Cheese-Its" and are ravenous snackers. By the time we had completed our circle around the food pantry Teresa felt like an old friend. I waved goodbye as she ventured back out into the frozen Erie streets.
The following week the temperatures were up and so was the line at the food pantry. I was busy all morning taking visitors through the line and restocking cans and boxes. As I was kneeling on the floor replacing rolls of toilet paper I heard a familiar voice. It was Teresa. A smile came to my face as I looked up and waved saying, "Good morning, Teresa!"
"She remembered my name!" Teresa said in a stunned yet excited voice.
"Of course I did!"
"I can't believe she remembered my name."
Our exchange that morning was just that brief but in that moment I learned the answer to the question, "What is in a name?"
In a name is value. A name says, "You are special." A name conveys worth. When someone calls out your name it is a reminder that you are one-of-a-kind. You are known. You are precious. You have significance.
I haven't remembered every person's name at the food pantry. There are some I am embarrassed to say I have forgotten but there is One who never forgets a name. Our Heavenly Father knows each one of us by our unique and special name. We are precious and valuable to Him, so much so that He knows us by name and calls us by name. Our name is so special and significant to God that when we come to know Him He writes it in His Book of Life.
Isaiah 43:1 tells us just how special each and every name is on the lips of God. "Thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.'"
Our name reminds us to whom we belong. God. Our Abba, Father who longs to be with us in eternity and loves us conditionally is calling us to Himself, calling each of us by name. Do you hear Him?
Just ask Teresa. I met Teresa at the food pantry on a sub-zero, frigid Erie, PA morning in January. The streets were coated in ice and the turnout at the food pantry was a reflection of the brutal weather conditions. Not even the hungry were venturing out to receive free food. The streets were treacherous and the wind was whipping. Walking even just a few blocks could put even the hardiest of souls at risk for frostbite.
Despite the terrible conditions some tough spirited men and women made their way to the food pantry. I was heartbroken to see some people shivering in flimsy jackets and threadbare gloves. There was pain on the faces of so many that came through the line that day. The winter took its toll not just on the body but on the soul, too. Every time the door to the food pantry opened, letting in a blast of frigid air, I was reminded that out in those conditions at that very moment someone was treading on foot through the bitter cold to reach the pantry. My entire morning was spent in a silent prayer for protection for the homeless and destitute just trying to survive this winter.
There was despair hanging over the food pantry like a gray storm cloud. That is until a woman in a black fuzzy hat and huge puffy coat made her way to the front of the line. I looked up to take her number and was greeted with a beaming smile and bright eyes. "Good morning, sweetheart!" she said. Her voice was full of joy and her spirit was one of praise and thanksgiving. She was a light shining in the dark, a warm breeze on that freezing cold morning.
That is how I came to know Teresa. For the rest of her time at the food pantry Teresa and I talked about her grandsons, both of whom she is raising. She told me about how they love "Cheese-Its" and are ravenous snackers. By the time we had completed our circle around the food pantry Teresa felt like an old friend. I waved goodbye as she ventured back out into the frozen Erie streets.
The following week the temperatures were up and so was the line at the food pantry. I was busy all morning taking visitors through the line and restocking cans and boxes. As I was kneeling on the floor replacing rolls of toilet paper I heard a familiar voice. It was Teresa. A smile came to my face as I looked up and waved saying, "Good morning, Teresa!"
"She remembered my name!" Teresa said in a stunned yet excited voice.
"Of course I did!"
"I can't believe she remembered my name."
Our exchange that morning was just that brief but in that moment I learned the answer to the question, "What is in a name?"
In a name is value. A name says, "You are special." A name conveys worth. When someone calls out your name it is a reminder that you are one-of-a-kind. You are known. You are precious. You have significance.
I haven't remembered every person's name at the food pantry. There are some I am embarrassed to say I have forgotten but there is One who never forgets a name. Our Heavenly Father knows each one of us by our unique and special name. We are precious and valuable to Him, so much so that He knows us by name and calls us by name. Our name is so special and significant to God that when we come to know Him He writes it in His Book of Life.
Isaiah 43:1 tells us just how special each and every name is on the lips of God. "Thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.'"
Our name reminds us to whom we belong. God. Our Abba, Father who longs to be with us in eternity and loves us conditionally is calling us to Himself, calling each of us by name. Do you hear Him?
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Number 31
The line at the food pantry had been endless all morning long. By two o'clock over four hundred families would be represented in that sea of people bearing beat up reusable grocery bags and noisy metal carts. I had been moving as quickly as I could all morning to try and get the line down but the people kept coming and the line kept growing.
"Number 31?" I called out, looking for the next in line to receive the food pantry's daily offering of boxed foods, canned goods and almost over-ripe fruit. At the front of the line stood a frail woman, hunched over and stiff, the crown of her head facing me with a mess of unkempt silvery white hair. She stepped away from the crowd and toward me handing over her disc bearing the number "31" on top. This is how order is kept in the food pantry line. Each person is given a disc when they check-in. The discs start at 1 and go to 100, then the numbers begin again at 1. By 10:00 we had already been through our first 100. With so many faces streaming through the doors I was becoming numb and robotic until I reached forward to take disc number 31. Suddenly I was met with a stench that pierced my nose. My next in line, number 31, wreaked of clothes that hadn't been washed in weeks and hair that hadn't been touched by hot water or shampoo for just as long. The stench of the homeless is not an unfamiliar scent in the food pantry but this was more severe and intense than anything I had ever encountered before. I immediately held my breath in an attempt to cut off the odor and, hopefully, disguise any facial expression that would have given away the assault on my nostrils.
I gave myself a quick pep talk as number 31 and I walked over to the canned foods. "Don't let on that she stinks!" I told myself. Slowly my food pantry guest and I walked down the line of food offerings. Every step was laborious. The woman's movement was arthritic and she appeared to be in great discomfort. As we moved down the line she started to move at an even slower pace but I didn't really notice. I was so focused on keeping my nose pointed in the other direction that I didn't realize how much she was suffering.
Finally she spoke up. "Can you take this bag for me?" she asked. Humiliated, I realized the great anguish in this woman's face. She was crippled to begin with and the bags loaded with heavy cans and cumbersome boxes were causing her more pain. I quickly lifted the bags off her frail arms and apologized for failing to do so earlier. Of course I couldn't tell her why I had been so negligent. I couldn't tell her that her odor was so off-putting that I wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Inside I felt horrible. In a lame attempt to make myself more comfortable I had allowed this poor woman to be more uncomfortable.
Number 31 and I made our way to the end of the food pantry offerings. She was winded from the short stroll (and unnecessary carrying of heavy bags).
"How are you getting your groceries home?" I asked.
"My car... I have a car. It's just a few spaces down the road." She told me.
"Let me carry them out for you."
I couldn't undo my selfishness and thoughtlessness of just a few minutes ago but I could try to redeem myself and show this woman that she was special, cared for and valued. She accepted my offer and the two of us walked toward the door. As we were walking over the threshold, about to take the single step down onto the pavement she looked up at me. She was practically in tears and her voice choked on her words. "I had such a terrible day yesterday and today...it...I...I'm not doing much better."
"I think you're doing great." I told her. I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know what was causing her body such distress but I just knew that something was physically ailing her. I couldn't make it better but I could encourage her that she was an over-comer.
The woman looked up and gave me a faint smile. Somehow in that moment number 31 didn't stink any longer. The odor that had struck me so forcibly was gone. All I saw and smelled was a sweet child of God, precious and loved.
We made it to the car and I placed her bags inside. She gave me a heartfelt, genuine "thank you" and that was it. She got in her car; I went back to the food pantry and we both went on with our days. I wish I would have asked for her name or introduced myself but in that brief encounter the thought didn't even cross my mind. I went from being consumed with a smell to being overwhelmingly convicted by my lack of consideration.
As I made my way through the line with more visitors to the food pantry I realized the magnitude of what had happened with number 31. In that brief encounter God revealed to me a priceless truth of His character. God - perfect, spotless and smelling of sweet roses - looks upon you and me and loves us dearly. Even when we wreaked of sin and were clothed in filthy rags of rebellion, God loved us. You and I are valuable to God and He cherishes us. Each one of us is of precious value to Him. God doesn't look at us and see a terrible sinner or our past transgressions. He looks at us and sees who we are in Christ - redeemed, saved, made new, reborn.
Before we ever loved God, He loved us. It is that truth written in 1 John 4:19 that makes it possible for me to stand in the presence of number 31 and not smell her unwashed clothes. It is because God loved me first that I can love others. God loved me before I acknowledged Him, knew Him and repented of my sin against Him. God loved me so much that He gave up His Son's life to save me. Why? Because I am precious in His sight and so is His beloved number 31.
"Number 31?" I called out, looking for the next in line to receive the food pantry's daily offering of boxed foods, canned goods and almost over-ripe fruit. At the front of the line stood a frail woman, hunched over and stiff, the crown of her head facing me with a mess of unkempt silvery white hair. She stepped away from the crowd and toward me handing over her disc bearing the number "31" on top. This is how order is kept in the food pantry line. Each person is given a disc when they check-in. The discs start at 1 and go to 100, then the numbers begin again at 1. By 10:00 we had already been through our first 100. With so many faces streaming through the doors I was becoming numb and robotic until I reached forward to take disc number 31. Suddenly I was met with a stench that pierced my nose. My next in line, number 31, wreaked of clothes that hadn't been washed in weeks and hair that hadn't been touched by hot water or shampoo for just as long. The stench of the homeless is not an unfamiliar scent in the food pantry but this was more severe and intense than anything I had ever encountered before. I immediately held my breath in an attempt to cut off the odor and, hopefully, disguise any facial expression that would have given away the assault on my nostrils.
I gave myself a quick pep talk as number 31 and I walked over to the canned foods. "Don't let on that she stinks!" I told myself. Slowly my food pantry guest and I walked down the line of food offerings. Every step was laborious. The woman's movement was arthritic and she appeared to be in great discomfort. As we moved down the line she started to move at an even slower pace but I didn't really notice. I was so focused on keeping my nose pointed in the other direction that I didn't realize how much she was suffering.
Finally she spoke up. "Can you take this bag for me?" she asked. Humiliated, I realized the great anguish in this woman's face. She was crippled to begin with and the bags loaded with heavy cans and cumbersome boxes were causing her more pain. I quickly lifted the bags off her frail arms and apologized for failing to do so earlier. Of course I couldn't tell her why I had been so negligent. I couldn't tell her that her odor was so off-putting that I wanted to be as far away from her as possible. Inside I felt horrible. In a lame attempt to make myself more comfortable I had allowed this poor woman to be more uncomfortable.
Number 31 and I made our way to the end of the food pantry offerings. She was winded from the short stroll (and unnecessary carrying of heavy bags).
"How are you getting your groceries home?" I asked.
"My car... I have a car. It's just a few spaces down the road." She told me.
"Let me carry them out for you."
I couldn't undo my selfishness and thoughtlessness of just a few minutes ago but I could try to redeem myself and show this woman that she was special, cared for and valued. She accepted my offer and the two of us walked toward the door. As we were walking over the threshold, about to take the single step down onto the pavement she looked up at me. She was practically in tears and her voice choked on her words. "I had such a terrible day yesterday and today...it...I...I'm not doing much better."
"I think you're doing great." I told her. I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know what was causing her body such distress but I just knew that something was physically ailing her. I couldn't make it better but I could encourage her that she was an over-comer.
The woman looked up and gave me a faint smile. Somehow in that moment number 31 didn't stink any longer. The odor that had struck me so forcibly was gone. All I saw and smelled was a sweet child of God, precious and loved.
We made it to the car and I placed her bags inside. She gave me a heartfelt, genuine "thank you" and that was it. She got in her car; I went back to the food pantry and we both went on with our days. I wish I would have asked for her name or introduced myself but in that brief encounter the thought didn't even cross my mind. I went from being consumed with a smell to being overwhelmingly convicted by my lack of consideration.
As I made my way through the line with more visitors to the food pantry I realized the magnitude of what had happened with number 31. In that brief encounter God revealed to me a priceless truth of His character. God - perfect, spotless and smelling of sweet roses - looks upon you and me and loves us dearly. Even when we wreaked of sin and were clothed in filthy rags of rebellion, God loved us. You and I are valuable to God and He cherishes us. Each one of us is of precious value to Him. God doesn't look at us and see a terrible sinner or our past transgressions. He looks at us and sees who we are in Christ - redeemed, saved, made new, reborn.
Before we ever loved God, He loved us. It is that truth written in 1 John 4:19 that makes it possible for me to stand in the presence of number 31 and not smell her unwashed clothes. It is because God loved me first that I can love others. God loved me before I acknowledged Him, knew Him and repented of my sin against Him. God loved me so much that He gave up His Son's life to save me. Why? Because I am precious in His sight and so is His beloved number 31.
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