2021: Stories

I read a lot of stories.  Some stories are true, some are not, and some are a unique blend of the two.  In literature, that's usually called historical fiction.  I don't read a lot of this genre because I'm afraid when the story is done I won't be able to remember what was true and what was not.

I find myself questioning stories more and more. Even last night, as my husband and I watched stand up comedy on Netflix, I couldn't help but wonder if the stories being told were totally true, or if they were well crafted tales for the sake of a laugh. Perhaps it doesn't matter when I'm watching a Netflix comedy special - I will readily agree to that - but it certainly matters when your spouse tells you why he is late coming home from work.  Or your children tell you why they got in a fight.  Or your friend explains why they didn't share a piece of information with you.

A friend recently told me a story that was not totally true.  Let me rephrase that.  A friend recently told me a story in such a way that the narrative led me to believe a certain conclusion that I may not have come to if he had told it to me another way.  He added certain details (and omitted others) that made me question his motives in telling the story.  My husband encouraged me to question him on it, but it felt right to just let it go.  It was his story to tell after all. And as long as we are telling stories, I should admit that I have been guilty of doing the same.

Most of our stories never get told.  They float around in our head for hours, weeks, and even lifetimes unless someone corrects them.  In high school, I struggled with expectations.  On one occaision I remember sitting down with my counselor and allowing myself to tell the story I had written about myself.  "I'm lazy," I confided to him.

More than twenty years later I can still see his smiling face correcting me, "You're tired."  I will always be thankful that he rewrote my story.  The stories we tell others are not nearly as powerful as the stories we tell ourselves. 

So it is with great care we must tell stories, to ourselves and to others, to encourage and to correct.  We need to hear stories to know there are other ways, right ways, better ways.  As the psalmist wrote:

We’ve been hearing about this, God, all our lives.

Our fathers told us the stories their fathers told them,
How single-handedly you weeded out the godless from the fields and planted us,
How you sent those people packing but gave us a fresh start.
We didn’t fight for this land; we didn’t work for it—it was a gift!
You gave it, smiling as you gave it, delighting as you gave it.

(Psalm 44:1-3, MSG)

The story will not end with me.

I look forward to the new stories I will learn in 2021, the old stories I will revisit, and the stories I will be able to tell.

Give Careful Thought to Your Ways

I love reading and have been developing the discipline since 2012 when a group of ladies at my church decided to start a book club.  Though the group eventually disbanded, my reading continued.  As I read more, I try to push myself into genres that are less comfortable for me.  I have found over the years that I struggle with older books for a variety of reasons, but at the same time I love having read the classics.  So this year I set out to read A Christmas Carol.  I bought a copy which just so happened to come in a collection of Dickens' holiday stories.  Who knew there were others?

I did not read them all, but I read The Chimes, which was definitely more challenging to enjoy because I was more unfamiliar with the story than A Christmas Carol.  One character stood out, a man who wanted to make sure that all his debts were paid before entering the New Year.  Did I say "wanted"?  I mean he was piously obsessed with the idea and judged anyone who might not be able to do the same.  Convicted, I managed to come to terms with the fact that I have a mortgage that won't be paid off in 2020 and one credit card carrying a balance into the new year.

But another idea struck me, that there may be non-financial areas that I am indebted, and these matters could be tended to before the clock strikes midnight tonight.  So here I am, at almost noon on December 31, working through my To Do List.

This year was unprecidented in many ways, none of which I need to rehash here.  However, thinking about the last 365 days of my life, I can honestly say that I have seen God move in ways I never expected.  My 2020 goal was to give careful thought to my ways from Haggai 1:5. When I chose this focus for 2020, I had no idea what the year had in store.  I mean, come on, did any of us?  However,  I've give a lot of thought to a lot of things because of the significant challenges faced in 2020. Most of my thought has been in how I do things.  And from time to time, expecially in some of the earlier times, I thought of how I want to do things (as in, how I want to do things when all of this is over). To date, I’ve given little thought to how I used to do things.  In fact, I don't think I would have even begun to think about how I used to do things if it hadn't been for two unrelated people who mentioned the idea to me relatively close together.

In considering past behavior, I’m not advocating that people can’t/don’t change. However, types of changes and reasons for those changes may be insightful. For example, if your youth was filled with nature and exploration, but you no longer participate in these activities, you may learn that you’ve given up on a pastime that helped you relax and stay healthy. Alternatively, you may have developed allergies and decided it was no longer worth the effort to prevent rashes and sneezing. Theses two responses are markedly different.  In considering how you used to do things you give yourself the opportunity to measure your changes - for better or worse.

So perhaps, the greatest lesson I've learned this year when it comes to considering my ways is the necessity of a holistic approach when doing so. I cannot just look at how things are.  Some seasons are unavoidably challenging (hello, 2020?).  I could not have done anything to prevent this year from playing out the way it did globally, though I could make choices to impact the way it played out personally.  I don't mean in my health necesarily, for we all know that sometimes a person is careful and still gets sick.  Moreso, I mean that I can chose to put my faith in God and seek Him in every situation.

It's funny that the words of Haggai seem more fitting today than when I first read them.  There seem no better words to end this year with than the ones with which I began:

     Now this is what the Lord Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. You have planted much, but harvested little. You eat, but never have enough. You drink, but never have your fill. You put on clothes, but are not warm. You earn wages, only to put them in a purse with holes in it.”
     This is what the Lord Almighty says: “Give careful thought to your ways. Go up into the mountains and bring down timber and build my house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored,” says the Lord. “You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?” declares the Lord Almighty. “Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with your own house.  Therefore, because of you the heavens have withheld their dew and the earth its crops. I called for a drought on the fields and the mountains, on the grain, the new wine, the olive oil and everything else the ground produces, on people and livestock, and on all the labor of your hands...”

     Then Haggai, the Lord’s messenger, gave this message of the Lord to the people: “I am with you...” (Haggai 1:5-11,13 NIV)

Indeed, God is with us.  In the temple. On the mountain top.  And in the drought. God is with us. Amen.

Advent 2020: Two Perspectives on Love

This post is part of a series of reflections on Advent.
You can read the first post here: 33 DAYS AND COUNTING.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

(Luke 2:7, NASB)

Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13, NASB)

How to love, as with most things in life, is part instinct and part experience.  From an early age we are taught ways to express love.  Some families are affectionate, and some are not.  Some give lots of gifts, while others put more value in spending time together.  (For more information on ways to express love, I highly recommend The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman.)

My family was never especially affectionate. I don't remember cuddling or holding hands, and hugs weren't frequent.  In fact, my sister has reminded me more than once of the time I refused to hug her.  One Christmas, as we left my grandmother's house, I began the always awkward process of saying goodbye to my extended family with hugs.  These weren't the warm embraces I now give friends I haven't seen in a while.  To me, these hugs were just what we were expected to do; they were obligation.  As I worked my way around the room, I arrived at my sister, who instead of hugging, I told "I don't hug people I see everyday."  My comment, though out of place, was true.  We didn't hug everyday.  And in my early adolescent years, I could not make sense of why that day should be any different.

I've heard many people speak of seeing the variety of people as a testament to God's creative nature.  I understand this sentiment, but it's challenging for me.  Sometimes it feels as if we are a piece in a jigsaw puzzle, with each piece needing to connect in just a certain way for things to work out.  Those who have connected, or begun the process of connecting with other pieces, are optimistic.  They see their purpose or at least feel they have one.  Those who are still laying in the pile, though no less important, see things negatively. Could it be that our ability to love and be loved hinges greatly on this point of view?

The Christmas story, too, offers the opportunity to viewed from two different perspectives. The story most know begins with a young woman singing out "my soul magnifies the Lord!" (Luke 1:46). It progresses with a trip across country and culminates with the sweet scent of a new born baby and the star that shined so brightly.  The other reading of the story is very different indeed. It begins with asking God "why me" followed by months of rumors surrounding the unwed soon-to-be mother. An inconvenient census leads this girl to birth her child while the stench of a barn fills her nostrils with each deep, labored breath in the darkness of that night.  It is either the story of homeless refugees who fled for their lives or the generosity of the strangers who welcomed them in. We see either gold, frankincense, and myrrh or tears, blood, and dirt.

My younger son suffers from abdominal migraines.  His episodes have been intermittent over the past five years with more than one trip to the emergency room when the attack was more severe.  I thank God that they seem to be occurring less frequently.  He has only had one minor issue this year, but this morning I woke early from the bathroom light shining down the hallway and under my bedroom door.  It had been on for a while, but in my sleepiness I could not make sense of it until I heard the all too familiar voice at my door "Mom!  I feel lightheaded" as he dropped to his knees, crawling back to the toilet.  He had already taken his medicine and waited uncomfortably for the pain to subside. I sat beside him in the bathroom, rubbing his back and handing him toilet paper to wipe his mouth.  When the worst of it had passed (meaning, after he had thrown up), I got him some water to wash out his mouth.  I made the couch comfortable for him to lay down and watch television.  I got him crackers and sat with him until he fell asleep again. There was little I could do for him except lay down my plans for the morning for his needs.  And, ultimately, I was able to still accomplish the other items I needed in a timely manner.

In John 15, when Christ said that laying our life down for someone was the greatest expression of love, it is understood that He was speaking of His coming death.  Yet, we are only able lay down our life in that final way once, and quite frankly, many of us do not get the chance to approach our death with enough forethought to be that significant.  However, we have opportunities every day to lay ourselves down in our living. In so doing we teach others what true love.  Even Christ had been modeled this kind of love from His earthly beginning. When Mary laid Him in the manger, she was also laying down her own life.  It was not an obligation; it was an honor. May we be as wise.

FMF: Conclude

          At that point some of the people of Jerusalem began to ask, “Isn’t this the man they are trying to kill? Here he is, speaking publicly, and they are not saying a word to him. Have the authorities really concluded that he is the Messiah? But we know where this man is from; when the Messiah comes, no one will know where he is from.”
(John 7:25-27, NIV)

          Then they hurled insults at him and said, “You are this fellow’s disciple! We are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don’t even know where he comes from.”
          The man answered, “Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes."
(John 9:28-30, NIV)

We've all been there, playing a mental game of chess and we've move three steps beyond what is actually happening. We jump to conclusions so fast we should get a gold medal.  Please tell me I'm not the only one.  In the book of John an interesting juxtaposition exists between two groups of people who conclude who Jesus is.  In John 7, the people of Jerusalem decide Jesus is not the Messiah because they know where Jesus came from.  Two chapters later, in John 9, the Pharisees conclude that Jesus is not the Messiah because they don't know where He came from.  As it was in John, so it is for us.  When it comes to God, we rarely know the entire story.  Even when we know a lot, we may lack sufficient knowledge to understand its significance. God is up to something that we could not guess.  He does things bigger and better than we can imagine.  So as we conclude 2020, I tip my hat to God for filling this years with things that we couldn't have imagined, and I pray that He allows me to retire from my Olympic caliber spiritual high jumping career.



This post is a prompt from Five Minute Friday and was written in approximately five minutes. For more information, visit fiveminutefriday.com.

Empty Bank Accounts and Hearts Filled with Joy

I praise the Lord because he advises me...

You will teach me how to live a holy life.

Being with you will fill me with joy;

at your right hand I will find pleasure forever.
(Psalm 16:7,11, NCV)

It happened unexpectedly, as it usually does. I checked my bank balance and saw an amount significantly lower than I expected. With only $15 and four days until pay day, this was problematic. So I gathered all the cash I could find and warned my husband not to use our debit card. That was Sunday.

I must admit that the event came with a mix of emotions. I was already aware that we had been looser with our spending than we should have been, but I was struggling to make changes to improve our situation. A little less take out and a little more effort in our kitchen would have gone a long way. This knowledge brought guilt and regret. It was definitely humbling.

On Monday morning I made a plan for making it to Wednesday, using only the cash I had scraped together. Breakfast was easy. We already had plenty of cereal and oatmeal at the house. Lunch would also be easy - leftovers or sandwiches. We aren't very creative for daytime meals, but I like for dinner to be special. Don't get me wrong, we don't pull out our china.  We don't even have real china. In fact, dinner is often eaten sitting in front of the television, but the dinner meal is the one that warms my heart. Using a grocery store card with an unknown amount and a $20 gift card to a BBQ restaurant, I felt like God had provided, and I knew it we'd make it without an inconvenience to my family.

The grocery store gift card was for a store I don't frequent, part of the reason it had gone unspent. When I arrived at the store I was pleasantly surprised to discover it had a $50 balance. Again, I felt certain that this was God's means of provision. Not only was I able to buy the items needed for veggie wraps for dinner that night, I bought several sides for dinner Tuesday night to accompany the $20 of tri tip I would order from the BBQ restaurant.

On Tuesday I was reminded that God's ways are better than my ways (Isaiah 55:8). About 10am I realized I hadn't checked the mail on Monday. I opened my mailbox to find two small Amazon deliveries, a Christmas card, and two other envelopes I hadn't expected to come.  I knew the first envelope would come eventually but did not expect it to come that quickly. It was a reimbursement from my college for my Spring semester fees. My heart was filled with joy thinking about when I had discovered that this money was owed me.  I still don't know how or why it happened.  The fee waiver must be requested, and I had not made a request.  But at this moment of need, it was exactly what I needed.  I was reminded that God's timing is always right, even in hardship (Ecclesiastes 8:6).

But what about that other letter? I opened it and saw a refund from my insurance company for overpayment of my premium.  I have no idea why this money came, as I guarantee you that I paid only the amount requested when I renewed my policy.  It was the third of three Christmas gifts that would help to restore joy until me.  Those gift cards and fee reimbursements were gold, frankincense, and myrrh to my spirit.