FMF: Once

This is what the Lord Almighty says: “Once again men and women of ripe old age will sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each of them with cane in hand because of their age. The city streets will be filled with boys and girls playing there.... so now I have determined to do good again to Jerusalem and Judah. Do not be afraid.” (Zechariah 8:4-5,15, NIV)

I've been thinking about mourning lately.  I didn't realize that might be strange until I just typed those words.  Mostly, I've been thinking that we (and when I say "we" I mostly mean "I") don't know how to mourn properly.  We don't let ourselves feel the depth of our pain, but, perhaps more concerning, we don't know how to move in an out of periods of mourning.

The prophet Zechariah spoke to the believers in exile.  I must admit, I have not studied the exile as much as I have studied some other periods of Biblical history.  However, I do know that the exile ended.  Eventually, the believers moved back to their beloved city and walked its streets once again.

The prophet promised that the return from exile would bring blessing to the believers.  Their times of fasting would become times of celebrations.  Love and justice would rule their city.  People would follow them to experience the same blessing they saw in the lives of the believers.

Seeing our streets filled once again may be a concept many of us relate to more than we did a year ago.  We long to leave the safety of our homes and begin to do life out in our home towns, to see the elderly with their canes, and to hear the young playing again. While I feel that longing for my physical life, perhaps I feel it more in my spiritual lives.

Oh, God, allow us to return from our spiritual exile and do not let us fear Your blessing.

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This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday and was written in approximately five minutes.

For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

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Fireworks

Tonight I laid in bed hearing the boom of fireworks, and I wondered how far away they were.  Could I actually be hearing the fireworks from protesters downtown, more than 15 miles away*?  Or worse, are there people throwing fireworks close to my home?  For the past five days, the news has repeatedly shown images of fireworks being thrown among protesters in a way that I can only describe as too close for comfort.  Lying there in bed, I chose to be honest with myself and admit what I did not want to: I don't like fireworks.

Fireworks represent closure.  When I visited Disneyland as a child, someone would always ask whether we could stay for the fireworks.  I can't recall how many times we went to Disneyland, but I know it wasn't more than a few times.  I remember how the park felt different after the fireworks show ended, as we walked away from Sleeping Beauty's Castle and toward the front gate.  Every shop on Main Street called to me.  I had not explored enough.  I wanted to know every detail that was available to be known.  Can we go in this store?  How about this one?  Eventually we would cross under the train tracks and out through those final barriers. I knew something had ended that would not happen again for a long time.  In those days there was no California Adventure and certainly no Downtown Disney.  When you left Disneyland you were in a parking lot.  You had to either wait for a tram or make the seemingly never ending walk to your car in the cold night air.  The magic was over.

Fireworks evoke feelings of rejection.  I missed being born on the Fourth of July by less than two hours - one hour and fifty eight minutes to be exact.  Growing up, my sisters loved to tell the story of how I ruined their Fourth of July the year I was born.  Since our parents were at the hospital, my sisters were left in the care of our grandmother.  Grandma would only let us do sparklers.  Would it be too dramatic to say the words still echo in my ears?  I know they were teasing, but I've connected fireworks with the special kind of bullying that only a sibling can do.  More than that, most years I have been presented with a red, white, and blue birthday cake.  Whether at a church picnic or my parents' house: Since we're going to be together for fireworks anyway, let's celebrate your birthday too.  I'm sure that's convenient, but it's never been very meaningful for me.

Fireworks are correlated to loneliness.  When I was about fourteen my mother worked for a doctor that had a cabin in the mountains.  We stayed at his cabin a few times while she worked for him.  During one stay we visited the home of my mother's boss's friend.  Their cabin was multi-story and was situated in such a way that it had a breathtaking view of the city.  We were promised fireworks like we had never seen them before.  It's true; I cannot recall ever again having such a good view of fireworks.  As we stood on that cabin's balcony and the evening sky was illuminated over and over again, I was mostly aware of how cold it felt and that I wished my friends were there to experience it with me.

You'll never read these stories on the cover of a newspaper, and there will never be an episode of 20/20 exploring why fireworks distress me.  However, they are powerful stories.  They are powerful because they are lies that I've heard - and believed - and allowed to steal joy from me.  The truth is:

Some days are big days, Disneyland days.  Some days are small days.  In the work of rebuilding the temple, God told Zechariah, “The hands of Zerubbabel have laid the foundation of this house, and his hands will finish it. Then you will know that the Lord of hosts has sent me to you. For who has despised the day of small things?" (Zechariah 4:9-10, NASB)  It takes a lot of small days for the temple of God to take shape.  It takes a lot of small days to for me to be shaped into the person I am called to be in Christ.  If I allow Him to, Christ will shape me because He has chosen me.  Scripture tells me that I am a chosen person (1 Peter 2:9), I was chosen before the foundations of the world (Ephesians 1:4), God has prepared good works for me (Ephesians 2:9), and I have not only been chosen but also appointed to bear fruit that remains (John 15:16).  No earthly rejection - real or perceived - can negate the good things that God has in mind for me.  Me personally.  Me.  I don't have to be afraid of knowing me.  I don't have to be afraid of being alone with me.  Alone doesn't have to mean lonely.  Some people can be alone and never feel lonely, but I've struggled with this for a long time because in those quiet moments I hear the lies the loudest.  I will no longer allow myself to be moved by anything but the truth of God.  As Jesus himself prayed for his disciples, may I be sanctified in the truth (John 17:17).

*A quick internet search returned that fireworks can be heard up to 50 miles away.  I still don't know where the booms and pops were coming from, but at least I know that random fact.

2%

Sometimes it's not about what you learn, but rather when you learn it. Tonight while wandering around cyberspace I saw two posts that, in context of each other, really caught my eye:

There are about 7.7 billion people in the world.
There are about 153 million orphans in the world.

I readily admit that I'm a math nerd. Numbers dance in my head and sometimes I solve math problems just for fun, but what stood out from the above two facts was not a math thing. It was a God thing.

I have read similar statistics before, about the millions, nay hundred millions, of orphans in the world. It seems like such a large number, an undefeatable foe. With 153 million orphans in the world, what difference could I make? If I helped an orphan than there would be just 152,999,999 orphans in the world. Big deal.

But in light of the other figure, you know, the 7.7 billion people in the world, the measly 153 million orphans all of a sudden didn't seem so large. It's only 2% of the population. You read that right... 2%. So I began thinking about 2%.

What if we committed 2% of our time toward the cause of helping orphans?
What if 2% of our giving went toward orphan care?
What if 2% of our social media posts raised awareness?
What if 2% of our Sunday sermons were focused on orphan care?
What if 2% of our friends adopted/fostered an orphan?
What if I am the 2%?

Scripture makes it clear that God cares about orphans, and we must too. As my husband says, this isn't a "you should;” it's a "you shall". We are reminded of it over and over:

• Deuteronomy 10:17-18 - The Lord your God is God of all gods and Lord of all lords. He is the great God, who is strong and wonderful. He does not take sides, and he will not be talked into doing evil. He helps orphans and widows, and he loves foreigners and gives them food and clothes. 
• Jeremiah 7:5-6 - You must change your lives and do what is right. Be fair to each other. You must not be hard on strangers, orphans, and widows. Don’t kill innocent people in this place! Don’t follow other gods, or they will ruin your lives. 
• Zechariah 7:9-10 - This is what the Lord All-Powerful says: ‘Do what is right and true. Be kind and merciful to each other. Don’t hurt widows and orphans, foreigners or the poor; don’t even think of doing evil to somebody else.’ 
• James 1:27 - Religion that God accepts as pure and without fault is this: caring for orphans or widows who need help, and keeping yourself free from the world’s evil influence. 

So, where do we go from here? To be honest, I don’t know. This issue, like so many others, should be taken to God who can grant the wisdom needed.