Of Weeds & Charred Cookies

I was excited to surprise Scott with cookies after he’d been on the phone setting appointments last night.

This isn’t quite what I was hoping for. (Sondra, I’m so sorry I’ve annihilated your wonderful cookie recipe. I simply don’t know what happened.)

I pulled them out of the oven and laughed out loud. They were as flattened as soldiers crawling on their bellies through underbrush. Then, I got the spatula and cracked up even more as slivered pieces flew through the air.

“I mean, seriously? What in the world?” I heckled myself.

Scott was gracious. He said they tasted fine. I’m sure he must have been delusional or is still unsure how to react to his new bride’s kitchen skills.

Fast forward to today. Walking home from a doctor’s appointment I spotted flowers I’d never seen. Like a little girl, sans pigtails, I waded through the wet grass banks and picked some.

Lately, I’ve been buying a single flower (Gerber daisy or rose–whatever is on sale) for a vase in our bathroom. Fresh flowers make me extremely happy, I realized. Well, today the Lord surprised me with a bouquet.

As I walked along, with the little creations of pink and yellow and white in hand, I suddenly wondered, what if what I think are flowers are really weeds? Then I laughed at the lesson before me: the weeds of God are more amazing than my burned cookies! Even if they are wildflowers (feel free to let me know in the comments), they’re scattered with no plan and aren’t tended by anyone. Yet, with my best skills, a college degree, and focused attention, look how my dessert turned out.

Then God brought to mind:

For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength. –1 Corinthians 1:25

 

Gardening 101 (May newsletter)

I’m not a gardener. (I know you’re shocked; I see you eyeing those grape-and-crimson-colored flowers above. But honestly, Wal*Mart handed them over to me just like that.)

When I say I’m not a gardener it’s 1) because my history has been one of killing plants instead of helping them live and, 2) I’m impatient. Enough already of the watering and sun and all; gimme more than dirt. Lemme see growth.

I feel a bit like a forth-grader who is sent home with a Dixie cup, dirt and a seed to teach her valuable lessons on agriculture with a side of patience. And that little 9-year-old goes home with cup in hand, plops down on the front porch step and sobs because she has no superpowers to make it grow at microwave-speed.

Yet as transformation and life percolates under the surface in the flower box on the front porch, my eyes are left unprivy. This wonder occurs in other places, too. In a cocoon during a month-long wait. In the womb over 40 weeks. In the tomb during a dark three days.

In my heart during this season.

And so I’m learning a few things, in Gardening 101.

God’s not nearly in the hurry that I am for growth. I see a fertilized rectangle of uniform brown and, daily, I’m begging it to sprout. The days drag on without a hint of green. I start to wonder if I’ve over watered. Or under watered. Or put seeds too close together and they’re duking it out underground, with some now unconscious.

But God isn’t worried. He’s ordained for each of His seeds, and for His children, just the right conditions—sun, rain, and sometimes manure—that will grow us into His likeness.

God knows more and, therefore, I need to seek His direction. Somehow I forget my lack of knowledge and often just jump into the dirt. Sure, I don’t know what I’m doing, but fevered activity counts, right? But I end up looking like Pigpen on Peanuts, with a swirl of mess and stink swirling around me. Instead, what if I paused and asked God what He’d like me to do today? Shall I water? Or pull weeds? Or plant more seeds? Or go help someone else with their garden? Or…simply rest?

God makes it grow. I’m disillusioned to believe otherwise. Yet I’m called His fellow worker. “[Paul] planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers” (I Corinthians 3: 6-9).

The more I play gardener, the more I am humbled as I see how nothing I do produces growth. Yet, the more I play gardener, the more excited I get to play a role, to have a stake in the life God creates. And my life gets involved; I’m no longer an innocent bystander.

But, ultimately, I think God might be making me a gardener because, as I play in the dirt, I look a bit more like my Father, the true Gardener.

 

Thankful

We just finished rip-roaring card games of Pitch and Presbyterian Poker and are laying on our turkey-stuffed tummies.

We are thankful.

• For a country where we experience freedom in ways that allude much of the world, like India.
• For a wonderful start to our marriage and for the encouragement we’ve received these 7 months.
• To be within an hour’s drive of both sides of our family.
• For God’s provision in our season of raising financial support.
• For lives that have purpose because of God’s grace.

 

Weary

If I could pick a word to capture my last month, it’d be weary.

Now, mind you, I was the girl who was born 3 weeks late but always cheerful. I don’t like grey skies or party poopers.

So when this weariness came to settle in like unwanted chill sets into the bones, I…well, I didn’t know what to do. (Because that’s what type As like me like to do–fix it, work it, tug at it, make it go away.)

But it didn’t go away.

What brought it? A bit of everything. Mostly, it came from a heart that missed its amigas back in Orlando–women who know me and love me, laugh with me and challenge me. Also at fault is the fact that my feeler is stuck on overdrive these days. A third is wondering if I knew the duration of time I was in for when Scott and I said, we’ll trust You, God, and trekked to frozen tundra (or at least frozen canal I stare at outside my window) in Omaha.

So came the weariness to the heart of a woman who feels like pioneer 13 out of 24 hours a day. (There, see? Feelerometer’s a bit off regarding reality.)

But God wasn’t taken back. In fact, He was right on time when He showed me these nuggets in Scripture just now.

“He gives strength to the weary,
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eages,
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.” –Isaiah 40:29-31

A-ha! How had I forgotten that the antidote for weariness is hope! Hope in the Lord. Oh, Angie heart! Put my hope in the Lord. It’s the only thing I see here that I am to do.

“The Soverign Lord has given me [Isaiah] an instructed tongue,
to know the word that sustains the weary.” –Isaiah 50:4

“Sustains the weary”–now, that’s what I’m looking for. That word. A word from the Lord.

“I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.” –God speaking in Jeremiah 31:25.

What a promise. God offers that He’ll refresh the weary.

“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

There’s a choice.

• Will I go to Him with my weariness or somewhere–or someone–else?
• When my strength runs out, where will I go to try to get it renewed? Him or somewhere else?
• Will I take His yoke or trudge on, on my own?
• Will I learn from Him or be prideful and stubborn, thinking I know best?
• Where do I go to try to get rest for my soul?

Today I picture Jesus speaking to me, calling me what Gram does as He says, “Sweet Angie girl, come to Me. Take My yoke. Learn from Me. In Me will you find rest for your soul.”

 

A worrier whom I’ve observed

I never seem to read the famous “Do not worry” passage in Matthew 6 except for those times I seem to, well, uh, worry.

I’m sorry. I mean I have a friend. She worries.

Yeah, she worries.

She worries that she doesn’t work hard enough.

She worries that the bump on her left hand that suddenly got hard is cancer.

I worry…ahemm…I mean she worries that God won’t come through.

And she worries what people will think that she worries even though she knows Truth.

So, she tells me that today, in Luke 12, she saw something new in verses 25 &26:

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? [actually, it's 'a single cubit to his height'] Since you cannot do this little thing, why do you worry about the rest?

Wow. Adding something, whether it be a single hour to my life or a cubit (finger tip to elbow, I think) is crazy-impossible.

And God knows that. He drives home the point.

Angie, if you don’t have the power to get 25 hours in today nor the ability to hit 6′6…don’t bother worrying about the rest.

And the amazing contrast is the fact that God has the ability to do those things. He has power.

As it says further down in verse 29, “Do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it.”

In verse 31, “But seek His kingdom, and these things [food, drink, clothes, etc] will be given to you as well.

It’s about what I set my heart on…what my friend sets her heart on.

I can set my heart on the things God already knows I need (see v. 28) or I can set my heart on Him and His power for meeting my needs.

I’ll have to tell my friend.

 

Not being surprised when God answers

God never puts His kids in a fair fight. (So that He gets all the glory when He swoops in as the hero.)

I heard that once, long ago, and life seems to prove it. Acts 12 proves it, too.

If Peter had a journal with him, I wonder what it might have read. If I was him here’s what I’d have penned:

“So, it’s not looking good. My dear brother James was just killed by the sword. I can’t believe the rage and the jealousy the Jews have for us who follow Jesus. How I want them to see the truth, too…but I might not see that day.

“Herod has me in this pitch-black, damp, rotting prison. Word is that he’s putting me on public trial tomorrow. I may get to see James very soon. And Jesus, how I long to see Him again.”

Peter was guarded by 4 squads of 4 soldiers each, according to verse 4.

That night before the trial, he slept between 2 soldiers, bound with chains and sentries stood guard at the entrance, according to verse 6.

Not looking good for any kind of escape. Even for David Copperfield.

Amidst those circumstances in the early morning hours, his friends were “earnestly praying to God for him” and something amazing was near.

An angel of the Lord woke Peter. “Quick, get up!” and the chains fell off his wrists.

After putting on his clothes, sandals and a cloak, Peter followed the angel. They passed the first and second guards and came to the iron gate leading to the city.

It opened by itself. (I would have loved to have seen that.)

Suddenly, the angel left.

Then Peter came to himself and said, “Now I know without a doubt that the Lord sent His angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were anticipating,” (verse 11).

Peter then goes to the house of the friends who were burning the midnight oil praying.

(Bet his heart was racing, excited to show up on their doorstep and tell them what happened.)

He knocks at the door and Rhoda, a servant girl answers. She reports to the friends that it’s Peter and…ready for this?

They say, “You’re out of your mind.”

They’re praying for Peter to be released (I assume that’s at least part of what they were praying for him) but then are astonished (v. 16) that God actually answered their prayers.

I’ve been thinking on this for 3 days now. How I’m like this! I pray boldly for God to move in a way in my life when reality says, “Um…that may not be practical to ask, Angie.”

But then I’m astonished when God answers.

The Bible says that nothing is impossible for God. Nothing.

Seas are parted.

The blind see.

A woman touches the hem of Jesus’ robe and 14 years of bleeding is suddenly halted.

A little boy’s lunch feeds more than his mom initially thought when she packed it that morning.

Peter is freed the day before a trial that might have taken his life.

May I remember that today.

Nothing is impossible with God, even if it’s unlikely with men.

 

What God doesn’t say

Scott and I went on a walk tonight to a park two blocks away. It’d been a battle-for-faith kind of day.

Sitting on the swing and talking about the day (and avoiding the bird poop on the left side), this thought suddenly popped in my mind:

God never says, “Try harder.”

God says a lot in the Bible, but never that. Never “Work harder” or “Grunt it out” or even — are you ready for this? — “God helps those who help themselves.”

Never.

But, He does say:

• Trust Me.
• Follow Me.
• Believe Me.
• Be still and know that I’m God.

So, that pretty much removes “run-around-like-a-crazy-woman” from my list of better options. Thanks, Judy and Virginia, for your gentle words reminding me to rest.

 

A beauty not lost in the dark

I jumped back in time a few thousand years from where I’d been in Acts recently and dove into the life of the Patriarchs of the Bible–namely Jacob. (Using a great study by Beth Moore.)

Until this morning, the following irony had been lost on me.

Jacob posed as his older brother to get his father’s blessing.

Then, here in Genesis 29, Jacob gets a taste of his own medicine when Laban poses his older daughter, Leah, as his younger daughter Rachel.

Even if Jacob had too much to drink and Leah wore a veil, I’m thinking, how can he not have known this wasn’t the woman he had loved for the last 7 years?

As one commentary said, “The story offers a powerfully ironic comment on the love of visible beauty, and shows as well the unreliability of trusting alone to sight. For where is beauty in the dark?”

Contrast Jacob’s sight-heavy love for Rachel and the love I see in Philippians 1:9 that Paul prays for those believers in Philippi:

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound [excel, be plentiful] more and more in knowledge and depth of insight so that you may be able to discern what is best and [you] may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ…”

This is the kind of love I want to grow into, more and more–a love that’s wise, grounded and mature.

 

The land of not-yet

I wonder if Abraham was a man of patience before God came calling. If not, he was in for a Master-level crash course in it.

The book of Acts is where I’m living these days. Today I’m in chapter 7–hearing Stephen recount the story of the Israelites.

“Leave your country,” God says.

Oh wait–ummm, ok. “And go to the land I will show you.” Ummmm…give me a hint? Maybe rhymes with…? I’d have asked.

So Abraham gets to the land.

Oh wait–but gets no inheritance yet. “Not even a foot of ground” it says in verse 5.

Then God promises Abraham that he and his descendants will possess the land.

Oh wait–Abraham consults with Sarah and they remember they are struggling with infertility. Thanks for bringing this painful fact to our attention, Lord.

The land of not-yet. If you’re there, take heart. You’re in good company.

Because, read on. There turned out to be a bigger story.