Thankful and Prayerful

This morning my usual commute to work took a frightening tone. As I drove along I-85, nearing my exit ramp, I suddenly saw a car in front of me hit another. The 18-wheeler in front of me swerved to avoid being hit, and ended up flipping over onto it side in the median. I had to do some quick manuevering to avoid being hit (or hitting anyone else), and thankfully I steered clear of any flying debris.

Shaken, I pulled over to the shoulder of the interstate, along with several other cars in front of and behind me. Many people got out of their cars--I saw at least one woman in scrubs, presumably a nurse--to rush to the aid of the drivers. I debated getting out of my car as well, but seeing the growing crowd, I figured I'd be more in the way than helpful.

As I sat waiting for my nerves to calm again, I felt a little helpless. I'm not a nurse so I couldn't offer medical assistance. All I could think to do was pray for those involved in the accident. In retrospect, I realize that praying was actually one of the most helpful things I could do. Perhaps I should have gotten out of my car to go pray with the accident victims, but to tell you the truth, I was so shaken up at that moment that I'm not sure I'd have been too coherent.

Later this morning a co-worker and I went to Prattville for a press conference. Afterward, we drove around one of the neighborhoods struck by last week's tornado. It was very sobering to see the devastation caused by this storm. What was truly amazing was seeing houses that had no visible damage right next to houses that had windows blown out, roofs missing, or that had been leveled altogether. Huge piles of debris were out by the curb of most houses, with bright blue tarps draped across roof after roof.

Both incidents have reminded me today of how much I have to be thankful for, including my very life, a roof over my head, all my possessions. There are many, many people, from car accident and storm victims to cancer patients to abuse victims to people who have lost their jobs who need our prayers. It's a bit overwhelming to see and hear of situations like this and wonder how you can help. I'm trying to remember to start with prayer.

Under Pressure

This week has been a pressure cooker at work. We have a big meeting coming up next week, which has given me plenty of items for my to-do list. Just when I have one item scratched off the list, it seems as though at least two more are added to it. And yesterday I had another big project heaped on top of that.

I'm not complaining--it is, after all, job security for sure! Ninety-nine days out of one hundred I really enjoy my job. But when I have weeks such as this where I'm feeling swamped and overwhelmed with a lot to do in a very short amount of time, retirement at age 33 starts to sound like a really swell idea.

Perhaps as a by-product of feeling such stress, my prayer and Bible study-life has been dry as toast lately. I have to keep reminding myself that it's not my responsibility to generate a thirst for time spent with God. Still, these days the lure of being able to come home after a brain-frying day and veg out in front of the TV is far greater than delving into God's Word, even though I know that I'll get far more benefit from study and prayer time than I will from seeing this week's "Project Runway".

As I read another blog this morning, I was reminded of Paul's words regarding his own feelings of weakness:

“But [God] said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

These periods of feeling overwhelmed and carrying a heavy to-do list burden are meant to remind me of my dependence on God. While I am a finite being with limited energy and mental and physical abilities, God is not limited in any way. With Him, I can do ALL things--including getting through a stressful week with my sanity intact.

Things *should* calm down at work, at least a little bit, after next week. I am hopeful that my thirst for time with God will return shortly as well, greater than ever before. In the meantime, I will try to keep from focusing on my shortcomings and rejoice in God's strength.

Psalm 27:13-14

Yet I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness
while I am here in the land of the living.

Wait patiently for the Lord.
Be brave and courageous.
Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.

Blame It on the Decaf

This morning I decided to try swapping my regular cup of coffee for decaf.

Big mistake.

I've been in a bit of a funk all day. Not necessarily an I-could-cry-at-any-moment-if-you-look-at-me-funny kind of funk, but more like an I-don't-feel-like-doing-anything funk. I don't think lack of caffeine is really to blame, but it's probably somewhat of a contributor, to my headache if not my mood.

While there's not anything major going on in my life at the moment, I'm feeling for some friends who are struggling with rocky family relationships and shattered dreams. I want to encourage them, but I'm feeling totally inadequate to do so. Even my prayers feel stale this week, as though my words merely bounce off the ceiling and richochet back to me rather than reach God's ears. Silly, I know, but it's hard to muster the desire to talk to God right now, even though I know He is eagerly waiting to hear from me at all times.

I know that this funk will pass, probably within a few days. In the meantime, I'm comforted to know that God does not expect me to be little miss sunshine all the time. Even when I can't find words to say or the energy to say them, I can still curl up in His lap, figuratively speaking, and just let Him hold me. How thankful I am that I don't have to be "on" all the time for Him. There is a special comfort in just being with Him and not having to say anything.

Tomorrow I'll take a road trip to Cullman for a meeting, so I'll have a chance to get away for a few hours and be in the car by myself. Maybe by then my funk will have passed and I'll be singing praise songs at the top of my lungs.

One thing's for sure--I'm switching back to regular coffee tomorrow.

Carry-on Baggage

Despite the threat of a MacGyver-like terrorist sneaking a half-empty bottle of shampoo or a chewed-on-yet-still-deadly toothpick onto my flights, I still enjoy flying. Sure, the waiting (in line for security, at the gate for a delayed flight) can try my patience, but I'm still a fan of flying the friendly skies, even when they're not so friendly.

On my flight from Orlando to Atlanta last week, we had to wait a little longer than expected to board. The flight was completely full, and apparently just about everyone in line in front of us brought a huge carry-on bag that they needed to stuff into the overhead compartments, so it took a while for everyone to put their luggage up and get seated.

Upon landing, of course there was the inevitable delay of waiting for fellow passengers to retrieve their bags (and hope that said bags did not land on our heads as we sat patiently waiting for them to get off the plane). One family in particular had three or four suitcases disguised as carry-on that they had somehow managed to stuff into the overhead bins.

Seasoned traveler that I am, I've learned to pare down my carry-on items. With federal regulations being so strict these days, it's just easier to get through security if I go ahead and check luggage anyway rather than trying to carry on toiletry items, especially if I'm staying somewhere for more than a day. And obviously the less I carry, the easier it is to manuever through the airport and onto the plane.

As I watched people struggle with large and unwieldy carry-on bags, I found myself thinking about how often I "carry" baggage through life. Perhaps I'm afraid to let go of some baggage, out of fear that I'll need it some day. If I let go of a grudge, then I make myself vulnerable to being hurt again. If I turn over my worries to Jesus, then I'm also yielding control (or my perceived sense of it). Sometimes that baggage, cumbersome as it may be, provides a sense of security.

Let's face it, none of us are baggage-free. We are all shaped and affected, for better or for worse, by our past--whether our family and upbringing, past relationships, school, job, church, etc. But while I may have a closet full of luggage at home, that doesn't mean I have to lug it around with me everywhere I go.

Jesus doesn't just invite us to check our baggage--instead, He invites us to let it go and exchange it for something else. I've found that He never asks us to give something up without giving us far more in return.

"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." (Matthew 11:28-30)

Jesus promises us rest, something that our worrisome, guilt-ridden and unforgiving souls desperately need. We can do all manner of things to try to lighten the load of our baggage, but as long as we carry it around with us and allow it to dictate our present relationships and experiences, we will remain burdened. In laying our burdens down at Jesus' feet, He allows us to exchange that baggage for freedom, and in many cases, He will even use those past experiences and relationships for good, if we let Him.

I'm trying more and more to lighten my daily load and travel light, trusting Jesus to handle my baggage and to find freedom and rest in Him.

Holding Our Breath

It is an easy thing to forget that God operates on a timetable that is vastly different from us. Even though He reminds us that, with Him, a day is like a thousand years, I tend to forget that.

I enjoy watching makeover shows, whether it's "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" or "What Not to Wear". Most of these shows have a transformation that takes place in a week or less. I like seeing the "before" and "after" shots, watching the ratty wardrobe and run-down house be transformed into something beautiful and polished. And naturally I want transformation in my own life to be instantaneous. But alas, that's not to be.

What if everything in life--not just the good, but the bad as well--had instantaneous results? What if my nose indeed grew every time I lied? What if I got a speeding ticket every time my speedometer clicked over the legal limit? Oh, I definitely want mercy and patience when I should reap the consequences of bad behavior--I just don't want to have to wait for the good things!

Part of the frustration of waiting is not being able to see evidence of change. But there is so much going on underneath the surface that we cannot always see. Much like a seed planted into the ground, it takes a while for the roots to take hold and the stem to push through the dirt before we can see growth.

I'm reminded in II Corinthians 4:16 that the transformative process is taking place daily: Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.

Whether I realize it or not, the makeover is underway. Every once in a while I get a glimpse in a dim mirror of how I've changed, a sneak peak at the woman God is transforming me into, but this is a lifelong process of change. Not until I am with Him face to face will I be perfected. And so the metamorphosis continues.

Silence

"We are so accustomed to relying upon words to manage and control others. If we are silent, who will take control? God will take control, but we will never let him take control until we trust him. Silence is itimately related to trust."
--Richard Foster

Letting Men Be Gentlemen

This morning I listened to a podcast by Nancy Leigh DeMoss about encouraging men to be gentlemen. Nancy interviewed several ladies, some married and some single, who shared their own experiences of allowing the men in their lives to serve them this way, and the blessings bestowed on both the men and the women as they do so.

I found myself identifying with one of the ladies, who is also single. Like her, I have struggled with accepting help from men at times. It's not that I don't want help. Indeed, I love it when a man shows that he is a gentleman by opening my door or taking a heavy load from my hands. But sometimes it is (in my mind) faster and easier to handle things myself rather than wait on a man to help.

I suppose that's one of the challenges in living as a single woman, especially one who owns her own car and house. I often have to handle things on my own at home--such as loading my suitcase into my car or mowing my grass--so when I leave home and go to work or to church or other places, it's natural to open the door for myself or carry a big box just as I have to do at home. Just today at lunch, one of my male co-workers teased me because I jumped out of the backseat of the car before giving him a chance to open it for me. I am so used to opening my own car door that the thought of him doing it really did not occur to me. But I did graciously wait on him as we returned to the car after lunch and this time I did let him open my car door for me!

I am not one of these women who are determined to do everything on their own, who feel that they don't need any help from men. Believe me, I'd love more help from men! Like I said, it's hard to find that balance of taking care of myself versus letting someone else help take care of me. It's tough being an old-fashioned kind of girl in a modern world.

Unveiled Faces

Today was Mission Sunday at our church, an annual event in which the entire service is centered around the mission work that our church is doing not only in our community but around the world as well. This year we did something a little different and had a special children's program in our Life Center, while the adults were in "big church". My friend Aleah and I were recruited to help with the children's program.

The children's program featured the Islamic religion, and the Life Center was divided into four centers: School, Home Life, Worship Center, and Market Place. The children were divided into four groups, and rotated among the four centers to learn how Muslim culture differs from Christianity in each of those four areas. Aleah and I were assigned to the Worship Center, which is rather ironic considering that women are given very little freedom in the Muslim world, and yet here two women were put in charge of telling the children about worship! I couldn't help but laugh at that.

As part of replicating some of the Muslim culture, most of the women participating in the children's programs were given burqas to wear. This was my first (and hopefully last) experience wearing a burqua. Only our eyes were showing--our hair, forehead, nose and mouth were all covered. It was hot to wear. And hard to breathe. And quite hard to see, especially when the burqa kept slipping down or to the side. I only wore mine for about three hours--I can't imagine how difficult it must be to wear it all day, every day.

Of course, one of the fun things about wearing the burqa was that it was difficult for people to recognize us. After the first children's program had finished, Aleah and I walked over to the lobby of the church building while the first worship service was still going on. There were quite a few people milling about in the lobby, and we got our fair share of stares from people trying to figure out who we were. We said hi to some people who actually know us quite well, but who did not recognize us in our get-ups.

I could not help but think of the passage from II Corinthians describing how Moses wore a veil after visiting with the Lord face to face. After his encounter with God, his face was glowing so bright that the Israelites could not look at him directly, but eventually that glow began to face. He wore the veil to disguise the fading of the glow. But those of us who are in Christ have a radiance that does not fade--one, in fact, that actually increases with time rather than fades.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (II Cor. 3:17-18)

For those who do not know Christ, they have a veil that covers their hearts (v. 15) and keeps from experience God's full glory. But those of us who do walk with Christ experience a freedom like no other. How thankful I am for the freedom in Christ that I experience on a daily basis, and for having an unveiled face in more ways than one.