Faith

Three valuable Gospel lessons that took me forty years to learn

Faith / By / October 15, 2021

A Savior Story

Horror gripped me as the room shook. Through the window, I watched darkness descend. The moon glowed an awful red. A crazed goat ran across the stage and scattered the actors. The play abruptly ended as everyone fled in confusion. I twisted in my sweat-drenched sheets trying to regain consciousness.

Since early childhood, night terrors haunted me. I knew how to handle this. I just needed to wake up—open my eyes. So, I did. But the vision continued. The finger of the Almighty pinned me to the bed. “You will watch,” whispered the Holy One to my heart. The dream continued.

I ran into the eerie light of the streets. “Where’s Judy?! I have to find Judy.” I ran to her house, then to the church. Nowhere. She was gone. I found a cottage; the door ajar. I ducked in for cover to escape the chaos and violence outside.

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Pale green walls enveloped me with grace. In the corner stood an oversized, overstuffed easy chair with a Bible sitting on it. I picked up the Bible and curled up in the chair. Weeping and reading, knowing the Lord raptured Judy and every other saint from the earth—and I was left behind. I sat hopelessly aware of the wrath to come—and the just condemnation against me. I had rejected God; He had not rejected me. Then the Lord released me from the trance.

I sat up, knowing I was a sinner who needed a Savior. And if I did not ask Jesus to forgive me, I would reap the eternal penalty of hell that I deserved.

I lived in light of that reality for three terrifying days. Then, alone in my apartment, I fell to my knees, threw up my hands, and prayed, “Lord, You win. I am a sinner. I do need a Savior, and I believe Jesus died for me and rose again to forgive me and give me eternal life.”

I rose a new woman that day in October 1981. This month marks my fortieth spiritual birthday. At this point in my life, I’ve walked twice as long with Jesus as I walked without Him. Looking back from this vantage point, I’m learning three valuable lessons as I compare Teri B.C. (before Christ) and the new creature you know today.

There are no second-class saints. I grew up in a household of hedonists. My father was a Sailor, and my mother is French. My swearing made bikers blush by the time I was twelve.

Substance abuse and sexual promiscuity (that led to an abortion) marred my teenage years and continued into my young adulthood.

When Bill asked me to date him, I felt he should know about my former life. He listened and told me my sin was under the blood. He, too, was saved in his twenties. He also had a past. Despite my confession, Bill asked me to marry him. I became his wife; he became a pastor.

Our first child was stillborn. A friend, who also suffered the loss of miscarriage, visited me. I expressed concern that maybe I deserved this because of my sinful choice (the abortion).

“No, Teri,” she emphatically declared, “your sins are forgiven. There is now, therefore, no condemnation in Christ!”

Truth comforted my soul. Then later, my worried mom asked if I felt my newfound God was punishing me; that same truth freed me to testify, “No, Mom, God’s forgiven me for that.”

After all these years walking in truth, it’s easy to forget Whose righteousness covers me. Our journeys with Jesus aren’t perfect; saints stumble and fall. And only Pharisees judge.

Recently a brother came to Bill and me confessing his pornography addiction. I’m relieved we didn’t know years earlier. A less mature, more arrogant Teri would have met that confession with contempt. But that day, my heart broke for this brother, my brother, who needed forgiveness and restoration. I, too, disobey at times. I, too, needed to confess sin to others and ask for forgiveness.

Sisters, we have no righteousness of our own. And the Good Shepherd carries lost lambs back to His fold without ever treating them as black sheep. God’s grace rescues us; this grace we must extend to others.

Don’t squander witnessing opportunities on secondary debates. Looking back to my high school years, I never heard a peer share the Gospel with me. I had one girlfriend who mentioned Jesus occasionally. But the only thing she tried to persuade me of was to be pro-life. We had endless debates about abortion. She failed to convince me (God had to do that).

I wish, looking back, she would have explained how she was a sinner and how she found a Savior. Winning arguments about secondary issues like sexual identity, abortion, or whatever can’t save anyone. People can be homosexual and get saved. People can be pro-abortion and be born again (I know because I was). They can also believe all these things are sins and be lost—condemned because they depend on their goodness to get into heaven. Only Jesus is that good. He alone is the way.

Let’s remember all have sinned and come short of the glory of God; when I tell someone about my trespasses and how I need a Savior, it opens their eyes to their own need. The Holy Spirit convicts them of their sin (John 16:8). For me, it was my pride, my lack of compassion. God didn’t deal with my pro-murder view until several months after my conversion. It’s our job to tell the good news about the Savior—our Jesus—Who so loved them and us that He died for us.

Love covers a multitude of sins—and so should we. I’ve learned discretion means the only violations I ever confess are mine. To tell about another’s transgression, even in the context of prayer, is slander. We learn from the book of Job that Satan loves to slander and accuse God’s children. Job wasn’t a perfect man, but God proclaimed him to be one.

When Satan goes before the Lord, saying, “Look what Teri did! She hates you.” The Lord responds, “No, Teri’s mine. She loves me because I love her.” Jesus covers my sin, and accusations cease. Likewise, we should protect one another.

God wants His children to feel safe, saved—not belittled or betrayed. We need to keep the confessions of others as we want them to uphold ours, covered by forgiveness—remembered no more. For as far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our sins from us.

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Judy, the woman in my dream, was my ex-boyfriend’s mom. She knew the depth of my depravity, but she covered my sins in love—love covers a multitude of sins. When we love sinners and hate our sin, we become brilliant ambassadors for Christ. A sea of lost souls surrounds us, so let’s toss them lifejackets wrapped in our Savior stories. Who will you share your testimony with this week?

Imperfect Faith in a Faith Perfecting God

1 Comment / Faith / By / August 9, 2021

God, are You for real?!

Lord, are you for real? Do you hear me? Does it matter if I pray? I confess I asked God each of these questions at one time or another—more than once, I’m sure. Most believers do. We read God’s promises in the Bible, but His silence in our circumstances provokes us to doubt. We exhaust all earthly hope for solutions to our predicament, asking for wisdom, praying for a miracle—but nothing seems to change. So, we wonder about the reality of our faith.

God never wonders. “For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust,” Psalm 103:14. Our doubt does not diminish His power. His existence doesn’t hinge on our belief. Though[tg1]  Jesus said, “Oh you of little faith” to His disciples, He also reminded them a little faith is sufficient—just a mustard seed-sized faith can move a mountain (Matthew 17:20).

That’s all the faith I could muster during a wilderness wandering in my life. My husband was between church ministries, and our bank balance looked bleak. We had been praying for over a year about where we should go next. My husband applied for many pastoral positions, but we hadn’t found the right fit yet. My weary soul begged for God’s affirmation. I spent a day fasting and praying, “Lord, do you even hear me? Do my prayers make any difference?”

The day after this time of fasting, I went to my job as a retail associate. A friend I hadn’t seen for years showed up at my register.  My friend, Kerri, delighted mothering her handful of little boys, but she enjoyed the company of my teenage daughters and me. So,  I prayed the Lord would give her a daughter of her own. I prayed for several years and many times.  I thought for sure she’d get a girl the last time she was expecting, but then I heard she had another boy. So, there she stood, right in front of me with a baby girl—her baby girl—straddling her hip. I wept for joy.

“Yes, Teri, I do hear you,” the Holy Spirit impressed my heart, “Yes, your prayers do matter.”

With that one encounter, the Lord answered my prayers for Kerri and my desire to know if my prayers matter—a two-for!

God responded to my itty, bitty, fragile trust and His intercession increased my faith. He alone completes what He starts in us. “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it.” Philippians 1:6.

There will be times we cry out like the father of the boy with seizures, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!” Jesus hears the honest confessions of those who struggle with feeble faith. He meets us there. His answers often surprise us, but with each act of His faithfulness—God grows our faith.

Have you seen God faithfully show up when you were doubting? How did that experience increase your faith?

 

Three Benefits of Spiritual Retreats

Faith, Knowing God / By / July 29, 2021 / , , , ,

Come apart before you come apart.

A battle rages around us. We forget at times because we don’t hear the explosion of munitions. Yet, the Bible tells us to put on armor, fight a good fight. Paul reminds us that we wrestle not with flesh and blood—but with evil forces of wickedness. This war exhausts even the most skilled soldiers. We all need r and r. We need to heed the voice of our Commander and retreat at times.

  • Retreating refreshes us. When we check out of our daily routine, the freedom from those demands allows us breathing room. We gain an opportunity to relax, rest, and feed our souls. Most Christian retreats offer speakers who share the Word of God intending to encourage those in attendance. A retreat provides busy moms time and space to process what she’s heard. On most Sundays, those young mamas either train children to be quiet or rush to relieve the nursery staff from caring for their child and then dash home to feed their hungry brood. Young moms aren’t the only ones who benefit from this opportunity. Let’s be honest how often do we take time to consider what our Pastor preaches? I fear many believers rush through daily Bible reading and never let the message sink in. Intentionally coming apart for Spiritual formation allows all of us the time to process truth.

Another invigorating factor for women with families is coming home to a husband and children who appreciate you more. One of my favorite memories occurred after returning from a women’s retreat. “My husband must have seen me pull up in the drive because he stepped out to greet me. With an exhausted look on his face, he said, “I tried to get the kids to pick up. It’s like nailing jello to the wall!”

“Thanks, Honey. I appreciate the effort. Welcome to my world.” I replied with a contented smile.

  • Retreating connects us. Even if you take a personal retreat or a silent prayer retreat, retreats build relationships. God created us for—and calls us into community. He also calls us to a relationship with Him—and His people. A group retreat accommodates the opportunity to develop meaningful relationships and meet people we may not get to meet otherwise.

One of my most special mentors I only knew because of an annual retreat. That was also the only time I could spend time with her. God used her to teach me the power of praying Scripture, along with several other lessons I’ll never forget. Fellowship, laughter, tears, praying[tg1] , and sharing with others—retreating makes these possible in a way that a Sunday service cannot.

  • Retreating helps us refocus. One main reason armies retreat is to minimize losses by creating a better strategy. Retreats supply vital reflection time. What am I not doing well? How can I do better? Critical decisions that shaped my life and ministry resulted from attending different retreats through the years.

Rallying the troops also happens in retreats. We don’t fight Spiritual battles alone, and we may be hurting. Retreating provides a safer environment for tending the wounded. It rallies us together to be mindful of the needs present.

Many churches offer both men’s and women’s retreats. Some denominations and fellowships of churches provide various types of retreats, including Christian worker’s retreats. Several family ministries host couple’s retreats to help couples strengthen their marriages.

I attend both a women’s retreat and a Christian workers’ retreat on an annual basis. I also take personal retreats throughout the year as I sense my need to refresh, connect (with God), and refocus. If your church and denomination don’t offer retreats, I bet another local church near you does.
And He (Jesus) said to them, “Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” Mark 6:31

Don’t suffer from battle fatigue, Sister. Retreat!

 [tg1]

Failure Due to Forgetfulness

1 Comment / Faith / By / July 29, 2021 / , , ,

“What if . . . ?!”

I pounded my fists on the door in the dark—darkness like a tomb. “Please, let us out! Don’t lock us in here,” My toddler and baby wailed in response to their mother’s frantic furry. Just seconds ago, light illumined this store restroom where we came for a potty break. The lights went out as I washed my hands. “What happened?” I wondered. Then it dawned on me it was late afternoon on a Sunday. The mall was closing. With my hip along the counter to guide me to the exit, I rushed to the door. I pushed hard; the door didn’t budge. I panicked.

 “What ifs” flooded my mind. What if they can’t hear me? What if everyone leaves, and the kids and I are stuck in the dark until tomorrow morning? What if? What if ?! What if?!! Not once did I think about “what is.”

After what felt like hours but was merely a minute or two, the door pushed against me. A wedge of pale light grew as a clerk opened the door. Like a sunrise, the irony of my situation dawned on me; I had been trying to push open a door I should have pulled.  How foolish I felt all because I failed to focus on my reality—the what is.

You see, my babies and I were never alone in the dark. God is ever-present, everywhere. If I had just taken a deep breath when my anxiety started and prayed a simple “Help, Lord,” I know He would have impressed me to pull the door instead of pushing. But, no, I listened to all of satan’s “what ifs.”

There’s an old saying, “If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.”  While if’s and buts are helpful in strategy games like chess and checkers, they hinder our present appreciation of life circumstances. The only if we should consider is, “Lord, if you will” ( James 4:13-15). I forgot in that scary, dark place that the Lord was there and willing to Give me wisdom (James 1:5). I forgot that He is my protective Father who provides for all my needs (Matthew 6:26); when we forget, we fail. We fail to do the right things. We fail to honor our Savior. Just like the forgetful children of Israel, we wander in the wilderness and go into exile. Forgetfulness of Who our Father is and what His will is for us leads to sin. Yes, my frantic screams and blows against that bathroom door were sinful acts of unbelief, but I learned a valuable lesson from my regrettable actions. I knew not only did I need to pray instead of panic, but I also realized what a terrible example I had set for my children. I became aware that my failure to practice what I preach affects others, not just me.

As my children grew, they heard me say this a lot, “Smart people learn from their mistakes. Smarter people learn from the mistakes of others.” So, my prayer for you today, dear Reader, is that you’ll learn from me to be mindful of the truth of what is and not let the what-ifs send you into a frenzy.

What truth do you need to remember today?

Simplici*Tea

Knowing God, prayer, Teatime Qualities / By / February 4, 2022 / , ,

Welcome to Teatime

Tea Time is a quarterly (February, May, August, and November) reflection on various qualties.

Sim*plic*i*Tea \sim-ˈpli-sə-tē, -ˈplis-tē\  n- 1. The lack of complexity or difficulty, plain, uncomplicated like a bag of Lipton.

Taking my Bible, tea, and toast to the patio for my usual breakfast meeting with God, I plopped it all down and sighed over my to-do list that lacked margins.

“Simplicity, Lord, I long for simplicity. What do I quit? What should I quit doing? How long can I keep spinning all these plates before they crash on my head? Help!”

I paused to listen.

          Silence. I didn’t hear the still, small voice I had hoped would whisper in my heart. No impressions or verses popped in my head, nothing.

 So, I opened my Bible to read, seeking a solution to my problematic business. A familiar buzz distracted me from reading. I looked toward the sound; sparkling ruby throat feathers caught my gaze. Then God’s gentle voice whispered to my soul, “You asked Me for simplicity. Watch this hummingbird. Let Me show you something better.”

          I watched intently. The first thing I noticed was how still the body of the bird was. It just hung there fixed in mid-air. Then I studied its wings or at least the blurred traces of them. Hummingbird wings move with such rapid motion that it produces that loud buzz, but the movement is not frantic. It’s controlled and rhythmic. Is it any wonder these tiny creatures eat pure sugar? That led to my next observation; the bird had its long beak buried in a flower sipping long and deep of the nectar within.

          “I AM your sustenance. Feed on Me. Keep your heart still and focus on Me. Then I will strengthen you and sustain you in the constant activities I give you to do for My glory.”

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things, but one thing is needful. Mary has chosen that good part which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42.

          I wanted less. God wanted to give me more—Himself, His power, His grace, His peace. I wanted plain. He gave me something extravagant—the “one thing.” Jesus is that One thing; His Word, His presence. Going out to my patio that morning was like going into a fine tea shop and asking the retailer for a bag of Lipton. Instead, the retailer poured me a fine cup of Ceylon steeped from loose leaf. I asked for simplicity; God served me singularity instead.

Sisters, when we feel squeezed by the demands and responsibilities of life, when we crave simplicity, let’s choose “that good part which will not be taken away”; let’s focus on the One who holds it all together.

When Aspiration Leads to Exasperation

Faith / By / July 29, 2021 / , , , ,

What am I doing wrong?!

Confusion, uncertainty, and discouragement plagued my heart as I started my morning. Where is that verse about God being faithful to complete what He calls us to do? I wondered as I opened my Bible. I looked it up, 1Thessalonians 5:24. Desiring to understand better God’s call on my life, I read the whole book of 1 Thessalonians. I discovered the source of my distress resulted from my aspirations.

For the past several years, I’ve aspired to write for publication. My first book is 90ish% complete. I hired a professional editor to work her magic. Now I need to go through the manuscript one last time. Then the work of actual publication begins. I must decide where to publish, acquire ISBNs and copyright, and learn different formatting options—and do all these things well, so I place a professional quality book in the hands of my readers. I want to love them—so many new tricks to learn. Praise God I’m not an old dog!

Astonishment hit me as I read the following passage, “But we urge you, brethren, that you increase more and more (in love); that you also aspire to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded you, that you may walk properly toward those who are outside, and that you may lack nothing.” 1 Thessalonians 4:9-12.

A quiet life? That’s what the Lord wants? Yes. Unfortunately, a writer’s life isn’t as silent as you may think. While writers spend many hours at a keyboard, they also need to market their work. The vocation requires promotion, speaking, and internet presence—all noisy endeavors. Imagine the sound of wooden planks sawn to the correct size. Hammers pounding nail heads to secure the boards in place. Platform building is noisy. These tasks beleaguer most writers.

I needed to process what I just read in my Bible. So—aspiring “to lead a quiet life”—I retreated to the dirt from whence I came. Nothing beats the humble aspiration of weeding and caring for plants. After all, the first good work God assigned to the first man, Adam, was gardening. I find dirt therapy helps my heart. And God values that work as much as the hours I spend pounding keys.  So, I tended to my badly damaged azaleas.

A warm week in February stimulated sap flow in my sad-looking bushes. Then a brutal cold snap in March almost killed them. I prayed that the bad weather failed to steal my investment of dollars and sweat. Thankfully God, who is rich in mercy, brought new life from the roots beneath the surface.

My writing goals look a lot like those stunted azaleas. Rough drafts like deadwood branches exceed the flourishing of quality work. “You must write more. You must write better. You must get that website launched. You must find your readers and publish your books,” shouts the voice in my head, my voice, not God’s. The Holy Spirit directed my attention to the new growth on these battered plants.

The roots live. Growth comes from the unseen life below the surface. God’s still small voice whispers peace to those who hear it. I heard it there in my flower bed.

If God wants me to write (and I believe He does), He wants me to do it with a quiet spirit. And not to neglect the other work He appointed to me (supporting my husband and keeping our home). God desires me to work diligently with my hands and depend on the hidden life, my relationship with Him.

Since the Lord set the good work of writing before me, I trust He’s appointed readers for the words I write. My pursuit should not be clamoring for their attention by pounding a platform together. Instead, I should quietly seek to love them well with the words I write and let the Lord direct the silent building of His temple. We are His temple.

In the book of 1 Kings, all the stones used to build the temple in Jerusalem were cut to size in the quarry so that the temple site would be silent with reverence. God erects His temple—His church—today in the same fashion—silently. A battle rages in hearts. Satan strives to keep us in darkness. Yet, light prevails. God saves souls. He grants pardon and peace to former prisoners—to you and me.

Sitting in the mulch, I chose to “let the peace of God rule in my heart” (Galatians 3:15). Just like I trust my little azalea bushes will bloom, I believe through His quiet direction my words will be beautiful and life-giving—in His time—not mine. The Lord makes all things beautiful in His time (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

To what do you aspire today? If you feel rattled or restless, maybe it’s because you’re aspiring to something less than a quiet life of love.

Gaining a Grand Perspective: Three Questions I’m learning to ask myself

Faith, Family Life, grandparenting, Maturity, Motherhood, Trials / By / July 29, 2021 / , , , ,

Me and My Mini-Me

On Wednesday, July 13, 2011 (ten years ago today), a wee little girl came into the world thirteen weeks too soon. My first grandbaby nudged the scale needle to one pound fifteen ounces. She measured an inch taller than a Barbie doll—a mere13inches.

Agonizing suspense filled the months following her birth as she struggled to survive. The fragility and resilience of life amaze me even more now than then.

Today my first grandchild celebrates her birthday ten years later—strong, healthy, and average in size. You’d never know she started so small. She now enjoys the company of three siblings, and another baby should arrive in November—bringing the total number of children in that household to five.

So far, of my four grown children, only the oldest has kids. But that changes this year; her younger sister expects her first in December. Now, soon to be a grandmother of six with ten years of grandparenting under my belt, I reflect on how this decade shaped my perspectives.

Gaining Insight to Unfading Beauty

The news of my daughter expecting provoked me to reflect on my first memories of my grandmothers. As a child, I thought these women looked old (both were only forty-five when I came into the world). I realized for the first time that another person would see me as an older woman. My grandchildren would only know me with smile lines and silver strands running through my mane.

Only one of my grandmother’s lived long enough to see her great-great-grandchild’s entrance into the world. At the age of three, my granddaughter attended my grandmother’s 100th birthday. I remembered my impressions of my great-grandmothers. They looked ancient. But even though my grandma was now great twice—she looked grand to me.

From my perspective, Grandma appeared more joyful, more loving, more delighted in life than she’d ever been. Yes, she had more wrinkles, and her salt and pepper hair now sparkled like fresh snow. Yet, her love for people and life transformed my understanding of old. Time forges a timeless beauty in those who choose to love and live well to the end.

“Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.” 1 Peter 3:3-4

Which mirror do I spend the most time in, the Bible or the bathroom?

Grasping the Elusiveness of Time

Do you remember turning ten? I remember the wonder of seeing that second digit when I wrote my age. I sensed new liberty—the freedom of being a big kid. I also remember each of my children turning ten.

When my first child turned ten, it felt like a milestone in mothering. When my last child turned ten, it struck me that an era just ended. No longer would babies and preschoolers populate my home (unless the Lord intervened and He did not).

Now my granddaughter joins the double-digit club; I realize decades feel more like days at this point in my life. My promotion from grandma to great-grandma (should the good Lord grant me that privilege) may be as close as a decade away.

When a baby turns one, a year equals one hundred percent of their life. At age ten, twelve months represent ten percent of that life span. When a person reaches sixty (as I have), a year diminishes to less than two percent of your life. Time grows shorter as we grow grand.

In this past decade, both a friend and I had heart attacks. He was four years my junior. Yet, he died. I survived. God determines the number of our days, and no one but God knows how many we will have. Let’s utilize the present well and learn to embrace the time God grants as a gift.

“So, teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Moses, Psalm 90:12

What’s happening right now, and how can I maximize this very moment?

Taking Nothing For Granted

Before my nest emptied, I took my children’s active presence for granted; after all, we lived together. Often in that busy window of my life, I felt overwhelmed. I just wanted a little me space. Now I have lots. My strong fledglings flew far.

Today they’re scattered from sea to shining sea; one lives close to the Atlantic, another on the Gulf of Mexico, daughter number three in the Pacific Northwest, then Uncle Sam took my one and only son to Gaum. Gathering this far-flung clan takes an act of Providence. Even our best attempts to plan fail at times, like Christmas 2020 when covid prevented our reunion.

My children enjoy visiting with us and each other, and we with them. My daughter and her husband go out of their way to make sure their kids develop a relationship with us. I no longer take their company for granted. It’s a precious, precarious blessing I enjoy.

I’ve lived long enough to know not every family enjoys such relationships. I know casualties of family feuds. I’ve shed tears with women estranged from their offspring, forbidden time with their grandchildren. These women loved God. They loved their families. What happened? Only the Almighty knows.

I’ve seen parents outlive children. We live in a broken world. At my age, I see expectations often result in disappointment. However, flexpectaions free me to enjoy what God grants—even when it’s not what I’d hoped for—like a covid Christmas.

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

What is my response when life doesn’t go as I planned?

Becuase, it often doesn’t.

Young mamas, savor these busy days. Moments evaporate into memories faster than most women forget labor pains.

The Empty Nest, A New Adolescence

Faith, Family Life, Maturity, Motherhood / By / August 9, 2021 / , ,

Let the WONDER YEARS begin!

Attention moms of all ages: fledglings fly away. God designed it that way. The first high schooler to graduate in a family takes a mama by surprise. Any empty-nest mom can attest to the reality that her children grew and flew in the blink of an eye.

It seems we finish getting our offspring through their teenage years, and we find ourselves in quiet houses with empty bedrooms. Then we discover a strange irony, on the heels of their adolescence, we find ourselves in the second season of adjustments that feels eerily familiar.

Adolescence is fraught with as much anxiety. I have yet to meet an adult who wants to relive that period of life. Yet, middle-age is much like a second adolescence—a time grown-ups must, again, grow up. My twenties felt like the infancy of adulthood. Then the thirties and forties passed like the golden years of childhood—a delightful busy season. However, once your hit fifty or sixty, parenting demands slow way down, and the physical changes of menopause assault our bodies.

Winkles replace pimples. The wiry, silver strands of hair bring back bad hair day memories from junior high. Now we have a new mane to tame. In our first puberty, we experienced the new sensations of sexual maturity. But in menopause, many women struggle with enjoying sex at all. The friction of intercourse inflicts discomfort on drying vaginal tissue, growing pains, not of a maturing body, but of a deteriorating body.

Then, as if the physical challenges aren’t enough, there’s the uncertainty of what do we do now that kids aren’t consuming all our[tg1]  time? Believe it or not, this is the upside of adolescence—the wonder years as an 80’s television show describes it (this series followed three friends through junior high into high school). During pubescence, children, on the verge of adulthood, brim with potential. They dream great dreams. Every aspect of personal responsibility and independence appears like the promised land of freedom. Every new sensation thrills their maturing bodies and awaking sensuality. Every emotion intensifies—just like in menopause.

So, what’s a woman to do in this second season of wonder years? Dream again. Many people achieve their most significant accomplishments in their last years. That gives me hope. I can do more, be better, and accomplish good things. As long as I’m living, God has a plan for me—good works to do. As long as I abide in the Vine, I can be productive, fruitful. So, let the wonder years commence.

The greatest wonder of all—the upside of adolescence—it ends with a new maturity. I need that perspective. When I finish growing up this time, I’ll be complete. God will be finished with me, and I’ll never have to go or grow through adolescence again.

“So teach us to number our days, That we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12

If you’re a young woman, what dreams do you have for the end of your life (dream big)?

If you’re my age and find yourself struggling through your second adolescence, what good work does God want you to be pursuing?

If you’re in an earlier stage of life, start jotting down ideas of things you could accomplish if you had more free time because the time is coming. Blessed is the woman who lives her life in phases and enjoys each one.

Father Knows Best: Two Things That God knows that I cannot

Faith, Knowing God / By / August 18, 2021 / , ,

Feeling Happy! We like that feeling. The satisfaction of a happy ending held my interest for thirty minutes every day after school as I watched reruns of Father Knows Best. In this outdated, black and white, slow-to-no-action, family drama, the dad always knew what his kids should do. If only life was that painless.

With the goals of health, prosperity, and happiness for their children, many parents insulate their offspring from painful circumstances. But the Heavenly Father allows pain for our good.

The Bible confronts me with the reality that my lifespan looks like a thirty-minute, black and white TV show compared to eternity—a full color, High Definition, endless satellite buffet of programming. However, the Bible also tells me I do have a Father who knows best. I need to learn to trust Him even when things aren’t working out the way I want, even when life hurts.  My Heavenly Father places a higher priority on teaching me about His joy than me feeling happy all the time.

In John chapter eleven—the account of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead—I find the assurance that God knows more than I do.

  1. My Father is the One and Only Time Lord

The story begins with Lazarus being seriously ill. His sisters don’t know what else to do for him, so they send word to Jesus. Lazarus needs healing now! We know Jesus was close with this family because Bible tells us “Jesus loved” them. So, I ask, what would I do if I were Jesus? I’d drop everything and rush to Bethany to heal Lazarus. Isn’t that what you would do if your close friend lay dying? That’s what makes the following statement in this account so astounding. “So, when He heard that he was sick, Jesus stayed two more days in the place where He was” (John 11:6). He let Lazarus die! 

Finally, He arrives in Bethany and witnesses the grief His delay caused. Mary and Martha suffered the agony of watching their brother die. They felt abandoned by the Lord in their time of need. They were no doubt confused and hurt by His “late” arrival. Jesus hurt too. The shortest verse in all of the Scripture, “Jesus wept.” (John 11: 35), reveals their loss deeply touched him, So why the delay?! 

From Mary and Martha’s perspectives, Jesus showed up too late. The reality is God is never tardy. He is the Father of time, the actual time Lord of all time. Unlike Dr. Who, who must travel to different times, God made time; He exists in it, all of it. Past, present, and future—God is there. The Lord sees the beginning and the end. He is the First and the Last. He tarries on purpose because He knows when is best. Our now is not His when. Therefore, we must learn to wait for Him.

  • My Father Knows My Real Need

Pressing circumstances and emotions cloud our perception. We lack the clarity to discern real needs from perceived ones. Our Heavenly Father does not. Mary and Martha believed their brother, Lazarus, needed healing; they thought they needed him alive. Jesus knew they needed proof of His resurrection power. By raising Lazarus from the dead, Jesus galvanizes their faith for the trials ahead. Trials form patience in us like nothing else can (James 1:2-3). The joy James speaks of is the joy that our Father, who loves us as we are, loves us too much to leave us that way (in sinful unbelief).

Jesus wasn’t concerned about giving Lazarus a little more time on earth. Lazarus was safe with the Father. Instead, Jesus cared about growing the faith of all saints from that time forward. More than a brother, Mary and Martha (and the rest of us) need to see eternal life is now. Their faith needed perfecting. Martha confesses her hope in a future resurrection. She knew someday her brother would live again. Jesus declares, “I AM the resurrection and the life.” Today is that day.

Jesus clarified Martha’s vague idea of the resurrection. Eternal life and resurrection power impact our present reality with sure hope. We have passed from death to life. We have eternal life. Now! Today Jesus is the resurrection. Jesus never said, “I will be.” He said, “I AM.”

The Time Lord knew the persecution those saints would soon endure. He knew they needed an enduring faith. By raising Lazarus, Jesus provided proof of life. He assured His disciples that “whoever lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:26).

I wonder how Lazarus felt about that lesson? Can you imagine being in the Father’s arms, in His perfect heavenly abode—without sin, pain, or death—then coming back here? Imagine the courage that gave all of them to endure persecution.

Like Mary and Martha, there are times I feel God is late. I feel confused and hurt because what I think I need is not what I really need. Yet, their story assures me that God, who knows my future, prepares me today for that Day. Our Father knows best.

Another Thanksgiving Day

Faith / By / August 9, 2021 / , ,

Yeah! It’s my birthday!

When the candles on the cake outnumber the slices, birthdays can lose their appeal. Some women ignore them. Others choose to lie about their age. I propose we take a different approach and count them as another Thanksgiving Day.

Unfortunately, Thanksgiving conjures up a day of leisure for most Americans. We think of feasting on turkey and pumpkin pie. Many watch football, But for those who follow Jesus, at some point, we become aware that God manifests His goodness to us daily. That even the unpleasant things He allows for our good; we realize that “in everything” we should give thanks “for this is the will of God” for us (Thessalonians 5:18)—including another trip around the sun.

Birthdays provide the perfect opportunity for thanksgiving celebrations. That’s why you’re reading a blog about thanksgiving in May. The Lord of life appointed my arrival into the world on May 28th, six decades ago. This year I celebrated being twenty for the third time—and it was a charm, thanks to Jesus.

The One who knit me together in my mother’s womb altered my celebration plans to include my mom, a blessing I had not foreseen last year when I began thinking about how I wanted to celebrate. Throughout the years I’ve walked with God, I found His plans are always better than mine, and for that, I say, thank You, Father!

Initially, I planned for three separate celebrations, one for each increment of twenty (I like parties). So, I booked a place to gather with three of my oldest friends. We had our babies together over thirty years ago, but the Spirit has scattered us across the country since then.

Thank You, Lord, for these dear women and all the years of friendship we’ve enjoyed!

I picked Savannah because one of these women was born and raised there and because I had lived in Georgia for a summer when I was a small child and had fond memories of Live Oaks draped in Spanish Moss. I wanted to see it again. I asked all three if they could afford the time and travel—and we picked a date.

Thank You, Jesus, for coordinating our calendars!

The second celebration I had in mind was one for just the Lord and me. I wanted to take a long road trip, see places I’d lived in the southeast, and catch up with other friends God transplanted there.

Thank You, Lord, for the many places You taught me to call home and the beautiful friendships You created in each location.

The plan was for me to drive to Georgia to meet up with my friends. Bringing my car would save us the expense of renting one. But I couldn’t plan for the death of my mom’s dear roommate and the dislocation that would cause her. Mom’s dilemma resulted in her staying with us. When the date for my trip to Savannah came around, I couldn’t leave her and my husband alone for my two-week road trip. Mom doesn’t cook, and my husband’s a pastor who often puts in sixty-hour weeks. The three of us discussed our situation. We decided I would fly to Georgia and just be gone for a couple of days.

Thank You, Lord for stretching me and teaching me to be flexible when things don’t go as I plan.

As it turned out, Cindy, my friend from Savannah, had come out early to visit her folks and already rented a car. I’m thankful God had her do the driving, not me. Cindy’s driving freed me up to enjoy sightseeing while she served as our tour guide. God provided perfect weather—low 80’s and lower humidity. Cindy remarked, “We only get about two days a year like this, and these are the two days!”  The Lord opened magnolias and filled the air with the scent of gardenias and jasmine. We strolled the river front and sampled warm pralines. Went to Tybee Island, hiked the light house, played on the beach, and ate fresh shrimp.

Thank You, Father, for delightful smells, tastes, and sights!

I let my road trip idea go. I hoped I might be able to do it after my mom left. I also spent a lot of time in prayer, asking God to direct my steps.

Then it became evident that it was time for my mom to move on to her next destination, Houston, TX, where she planned to live with my middle daughter. I asked my mom if she felt like taking the long way to Houston and making the trip with me. Bill, my protective husband, felt better about me not traveling alone. So, just a week before our departure date, I drew out a route and made reservations. I had my husband’s blessing and God’s clear leading.

I Praise You, God, for Your good hand upon me!

Not only did God allow my celebration of people and places, but He also allowed it to be a double celebration of my birthday and my mom’s labor day. It was a joy taking a 3,400ish mile road trip with my eighty-five-year-old mama. It may be the last travel we enjoy together. The Lord also aligned the calendars of the five friends I hoped to visit on that excursion, and I met with every one of them–including my best friend from junior high that I hadn’t seen in forty-six years!

Thank You, Heavenly Father, for doing exceedingly, abundantly above all I could ask or think.

Life is good. The years God gives us are worthy of celebrating but let’s be mindful that the point of celebrating is to give God thanks because He authors our lives and provides for all our days.

Thank You, Lord!

So, what of the third twentieth party? Originally, I hoped to gather my children and celebrate with my family.

 Father, I am most thankful for giving me a godly, loving, and generous husband and the satisfying relationships I enjoy with each of my adult children and their families.

But maybe two is plenty. I’ll leave that to Him. I love surprises.

On your next birthday, how will you give thanks?