Contentment. It's a Beautiful Thing!

August 7, 2015

The notice didn't come when I was expecting it, which could only mean one thing: I didn't win the bid. When we moved here a little over two years ago, we had a small riding mower that was perfect for our lot in Cassadaga, but totally inadequate for the acreage we have here. So we gave the mower to Todd and Jess, who have a lot about the same size as our Cassadaga lot, and took to using the old John Deere 216 we've had for a few years. That thing is a rock; it just keeps working. Well, except for the mower deck. A couple weeks ago Linda was mowing. She made a couple passes around the yard then came in for a pit stop, telling me that it wasn't cutting anything. I checked it out, and sure enough, the blades weren't spinning. Upon dismantling the deck, I was easily able to diagnose the problem: a pulley bearing had disintegrated. I took the deck to Edge 'n Engine, left it with Kyle, and mowed with the big zero turn Husqvarna.

That particular machine I bought last year for Linda, the only problem being that she didn't like it. Zero turns operate differently than conventional mowers, and Linda doesn't like the fact that it didn't have a brake pedal. After trying it a couple times, she decided it wasn't for her, and refuses to use it. I don't blame her; it does take some getting used to, and can be pretty squirrelly on a slope. So I decided to get a real lawn tractor. I had seen a used Kubota with a bucket and a backhoe, but missed the deal because I thought it was too expensive. Linda chided me for not getting it, so I've been on the prowl ever since.

After checking out the Kubota and the John Deere dealers, I've decided against Orange. After all, I see used Kubotas in the John Deere dealership, but I don't see used John Deeres in the Kubota dealerships. That tells me something. I'm not sure what, but it tells me something. I've also been checking online. The bottom line is, I thought I had a deal at the dealership a couple weeks ago, but the guy who had put a hold on it bought it. I have sold the zero turn, so it's a bit more urgent to replace it, so I've even checked out eBay, putting a bid in on a nice one down in PA. Tonight, the notice didn't come in. Someone else won the bid, so I'm still tractorless. But it's OK. It's taken me a long time, but I am finally at the place where my trust in God is such that it doesn't bother me to lose the bid. There was a time when I would have been almost distraught, second-guessing my bid limit, and fretting over not having what I want. But not tonight. My contentment doesn't rely on a tractor. I can afford to be patient, knowing God is in control. He knows my need, and is better able than I to distinguish between my needs and wants. Like I said, it's taken me a long time to get to this point, but I am so grateful to be here. Not fretting is a beautiful thing.

Shoulder to Shoulder

August 6, 2015

In his letter to the Ephesians, St. Paul tells us to "take up the shield of faith, with which we are able to quench all the fiery darts of the Evil One." These words that come in the midst of his mini sermon on spiritual warfare offer a hint to an important insight. Paul was a citizen of the 1st century Roman Empire and as such, was familiar with things of which we know little today. The Roman soldier utilized two different kinds of shields, the aspis--a small, rounded shield that was strapped to the left arm to be used in close hand-to-hand fighting, and the scutum or thureon, a large, cylindrical shield made of wood or metal and covered with leather that though less maneuverable, provided greater protection. It is this shield St. Paul references in Ephesians.

In close battle formation, the Roman soldier would hold his shield in front of him, covering about two-thirds of his body, and about one-third of the soldier next to him. This battle formation was all but invincible as the legion moved as one body into battle. No soldier was entirely on his own. They fought together, and in that unity found greater strength than had they merely fought as individuals.

This afternoon I received a call from our granddaughter Alex, who is in Uganda. The young woman with whom she is working hasn't been feeling well, and went to the clinic only to discover that she has contracted both malaria and typhoid. I immediately contacted the prayer chain, and we now have a legion of people praying for Aly. Years ago a member of the little church I pastored became deathly ill. It took months for her to recover, and when she did, she gave testimony at church. "I was so sick I couldn't even pray for myself," she said, and added, "I needed your prayers then, and thank you for them now."

I don't know if Aly is so sick she cannot pray, but I know that in this battle, she is not alone. We close rank, covering her with our shields of faith and prayer, quenching the fiery darts of the Evil One before whom, were Aly all alone, would be vulnerable. This is why what I and others do is important. Everything is connected spiritually, and if I fail in faith and holiness, I leave a gap through which the Enemy is able to attack. So I am praying tonight, not only for Aly, but for myself and the others who stand by her, that we would hold our shields firmly before us, protecting this servant of the Lord who right now is wounded and vulnerable. The Enemy shall not pass because we are engaging him in the strength of Christ who has won the victory through his death and resurrection. All hail the power of Jesus' Name!

Clean Underwear

August 5, 2015

"Put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and...put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness." --Ephesians 4:22-24

When I was a little boy, I couldn't get away with anything. Back then, parenting didn't include accompanying a child everywhere he went, or defending bad behavior. On Saturdays, I could be gone from right after breakfast till dark without anyone panicking. Come to think of it, there might have been some sinister family plot behind my parents' unconcern!

There were however, some areas of maternal concern that despite my six or seven years' experience, I was never able to overcome. I always had to wear clean clothes. It didn't matter if I had planned on spending the day rooting around in a sewer, I had to start out with clean clothes. There was no getting around it. No prison guard could hold a candle to mom's diligence in making sure I didn't leave the house with yesterday's dirt on my shirt. Of course I tried, but she always caught me. She would ask, "You put on clean clothes this morning?" I would answer truthfully, but perhaps not completely, and she would nail me with her follow up question: "Clean underwear, too?" I would skulk back upstairs, strip down and dutifully, if not cheerfully, put on clean underwear. "You don't put dirty clothes on a clean body," was her motto.

I think that's what St. Paul is getting at in these words from his letter to the Ephesian Christians. We must take off the old dirty clothes of our sins before we can put on the clean clothes of Christ's righteousness. But lest we imagine it's all our own doing, a spiritual pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, he inserts these words: "the new man which was created according to God." I have my part to play, but this new life I am commanded to put on is not my own doing; it is a creation of God. Tonight, I am grateful that I have a part to play in salvation; otherwise, I would become lazy and careless. But I am also grateful that it is God's doing, because without the righteousness of Christ, anything I put on would be just another set of my dirty old clothes.

Blessings out of Buffetings

August 4, 2015

Some of God's choicest blessings come in disguise, in much the same way as luck comes disguised as hard work. When they come incognito, it is easy to miss or even reject them out of hand. It didn't feel very blessed years ago when someone in the church became angry that she didn't receive the recognition she felt she deserved (her words, not mine), and began a campaign to divide and destroy that very nearly succeeded. The years I battled melancholy certainly didn't bear obvious marks of blessing, and those many times I've sat with people whose lives have been torn apart by divorce, drugs, or disease, not knowing what to say and feeling like I failed them--none of these times had little identification tags that said "blessing" on them.

Today I sat with three friends going through difficult times. I can't say as I had answers for them, but each situation was similar to things I've been through, so although I couldn't do anything to change their circumstances, I did have a measure of understanding, and was able to share with each one how I discovered God's hand in the dark hours of my life. I hope that just seeing someone who walked into that valley and came out the other side will be an encouragement to my friends. And those days, weeks, months, and even years when I doggedly trudged my way from one day to another; those times when God seemed to be uninterested in my pain, turned out to be the very tool he uses to comfort others in their time of need.

St. Paul said it best: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we may be able to comfort those experiencing any trouble with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow toward us, so also our comfort through Christ overflows to you. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort that you experience in your patient endurance of the same sufferings that we also suffer."

God never wastes anything, and the difficulties that often seem to be interruptions and distractions often are the very means by which he reveals himself to us, and become tools in our hands and hearts by which we can bless and comfort others. It has often taken a long time for me to see the blessing in the buffetings, but I am thankful tonight that my trials have become God's trails to mercy and grace in the lives of my friends.

You Can't Fix Stupid

August 3, 2015

"Not yet." That was what the physical therapist told me when I asked how soon I can resume my workout routine. It turns out that not wearing the proper footwear (as in none at all) while working out is the proximate cause of my plantar fasciitis. In other words, it is my own fault, as is most of the trouble I get myself into. Things I could get away with at twenty...not so much at 66. Things went pretty well for the years I was using the Total Gym, but I didn't believe I was getting the workout I wanted, so over a year ago I bought the T25 DVD set. Twenty-five minutes a day that made me sweat like I never had done with the machine; it pushed me to go deep.

But about two months ago, my right foot started hurting. It got to the point where even the pressure on the heel from pushing on the gas pedal of the car was almost unbearable. Three trips to a podiatrist, some new shoes and arch supports made a huge difference, but then a seminar on foot problems offered a free consultation (of course, with the goal of gaining new customers) that led to my appointment this morning and for some mornings to come. But no workouts yet. I'm looking forward to getting back into the routine, and am grateful for the professionals who can diagnose and treat my foot. Now if someone could do the same for my stupidity, I'd be golden!

The Harder Part

August 1, 2015

Galatians 2:20 was a formative Scripture for me as I was just starting out my Christian life. In the old Authorized Version it reads, "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." I remember memorizing it, but I don't remember thinking deeply upon it. We like the part that speaks about Christ living in us, about his love and sacrifice for us, but I wonder how it escaped me that these soaring words begin with the harsh reality of being crucified with Christ.

How much do I really know about being crucified with Christ? What does that even mean? Elsewhere, Paul speaks of putting the Old Man to death, of dying with Christ in baptism, that we may be raised to new life. Yet the old life often seems very much alive, doesn't it? In ancient times, crucifixion was a ghastly form of torture-death that wasn't even allowed to be used on a Roman citizen. The procedure itself has been vividly portrayed in Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ," and in numerous scholarly articles readily available online. But none of them touch on the one aspect of crucifixion that Paul hints at here: the utter surrender of oneself (whether voluntary or not) to death. To be crucified means one has lost all power to decide and control one's future. That future is totally in the hands of others who have chosen to degrade and destroy you in the most humiliating of ways. The victim was hung totally naked upon the cross, exposed for all to see.

I don't want to be totally exposed to those around me. We all have secrets we want to keep buried. Yet, before God, all must come to light. Crucifixion means nothing is left to the imagination, and God is allowed to see. The defenses are down, self-determination is surrendered, and we hang helpless.

And still, resurrection awaits. In Colossians 3, Paul says, "[You were] buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead.
"When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross. And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross."

We were crucified with him, but we were raised. Our sins however, remain judged, remain nailed to the cross. It all hinges on the Cross, and on our willingness to be judged, to with Christ yield control of our future to the Father. Christians in Islamic lands know what that means; we have yet to learn. Surrounded as I am by the visible blessings of God, am I willing to surrender them if God wills? I guess the only way to know for sure would be to be placed in that situation, a prospect I do not relish. In the meantime, I strive to hold onto the visible blessings with a loose grip, that I might hold to the invisible ones more surely. I give thanks for those blessings I recognize as such, and pray for insight to recognize those that come disguised as difficulties, that I might receive them with gladness also.

Tingly Legs

August 2, 2015

It is a strange day indeed, when it has been so busy that I haven't taken time to give thanks. Yesterday, two funerals and a graduation party filled the time from breakfast till nearly dark. We never made it to the family reunion. This morning, worship, another memorial service, family and friends at the house till five thirty, then with Linda's sisters till after 8:00. I am "peopled out." Even Linda who thrives on people is feeling the strain. Oddly enough, it's not the people, but at the risk of sounding like a cranky old man griping about his gout, it's the strange tingly feeling in my legs and the throbbing down my neck and right arm that is pushing me to the edge. Normally, I brush off going to the doctor, but I'm actually looking forward to the two appointments I have tomorrow. Something is apparently out of place in my neck or back, and I'm eager to have it put right.

So in advance, I'm thankful for chiropractors and physical therapists who ply their trade with skill. I've not made a habit of giving them my business, having been twisted and jerked around by one or two who despite their pleasant demeanor seem to harbor hidden sadistic tendencies. A couple weeks ago our granddaughter Alex had a bug bite that was nothing here in the States, but which quickly became infected with African pathogens when she took up residence in Uganda. It was a mildly harrowing experience for her, and for us, knowing that medical service there was not quite to the standards we're used to. She's OK, but the experience drove home for us how we've come to expect a level of care that is unheard of in most of the world. Prayers for healing take on new and heightened meaning where medical assistance is lacking.

So even though I've not thought of it through the day, as my body sabotages my struggle to get to sleep tonight, I am grateful that in the morning I have these appointments and the hope that all shall be well.