We were walking around a park, witnessing the creation both of the Father and of His "sub-creators," as J.R.R. Tolkien would say.
We loved watching the mothers strolling around with their babies while the elderly, behatted, sometimes bespectacled people sat around stone tables, chatting and playing games.
In one gazebo, we saw yet another group of sweet elderly people. But one of them, rather than staring or even smiling, actually beckoned us to come over. The wrinkles deepened in the corners of her eyes as she waved her fragile yet strong hands.
As we walked in, she and her friends began laughing; she jumped up and down and clapped her hands for joy. Her friends gathered round to take pictures with us, but she was interested in more than that.
She wanted to dance.
So she grabbed my friend's hand and began twirling herself around, laughing the whole time. She then skipped over to another friend, and then another, grabbing each person's hands and twirling.
When she would stop to take a picture with one of us, she would wrap her wrinkled arms around our unwrinkled faces, deepening her own wrinkles with even more laughter.
And then, as I began conversing with her, she clapped and jumped up and down as she said,
"I am eighty-two years old!"
Her friends laughed and commented on how happy she was; I commented on how healthy she was. She couldn't care less about our comments, regardless of their content. She was too busy dancing.
When I turn eighty-two years old, I want to look back on eighty-two years of softening and enlarging my heart, of keeping it open to my Creator and to all people but closed to cynicism, of keeping it open to thankfulness and grace but closed to self-pity. I want to laugh and clap.
from the book Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis, p. 252
"I have learned along my journey that if I really want to follow Jesus, I will go to the hard places. Being a Christ follower means being acquainted with sorrow. We must know sorrow to be able to fully appreciate joy. Joy costs pain, but the pain is worth it. After all, the murder had to take place before the resurrection.
I'll be honest: The hard places can seem unbearable. It's dark and it's scary, and even though I know God said He will never leave or forsake me, sometimes it's so dark that I just can't see Him. But then the most incredible thing happens: God take me by the hand and walks me straight out of the hard place and into the beauty on the other side. He whispers to me to be thankful, that even this will be for His good.
It takes a while sometimes, coming out of the dark place. Sometimes God and I come out into a desert and he has to carry me through that too. Sometimes I slip a lot on the way out and He has to keep coming back to get me. Always, on the other side is something beautiful, because He has used the hard places to increase my sense of urgency and to align my desires with His. I realize that it was there that He was closest to me, even in the times when I didn't see Him. I realize that the hard places are good because it is there that I gained more wisdom, and though with wisdom comes sorrow, on the other side of sorrow is joy. And a funny thing happens when I realize this: I want to go to the hard place again. Again and again and again.
So we go. This is where our family is today and where I hope to stay - loving, because He first loved us. Going into the hard places, entering into the sorrow because He entered for us first and because by His grace, redemption and beauty are on the other side."
But even though errors are numerous, truths are still only one, and there is only one who is “the Way and the Life,” only one guidance that indeed leads a person through life to life. Thousands upon thousands carry a name by which it is indicated that they have chosen this guidance, that they belong to the Lord Jesus Christ, after whom they call themselves Christians, that they are his bond-servants, whether they be masters or servants, slaves or freeborn, men or women. Christians they call themselves and they also call themselves by other names, and all of them designate the relation to this one guidance. They call themselves believers and thereby signify that they are pilgrims, strangers and aliens in the world. Indeed, a staff in the hand does not identify a pilgrim as definitely as calling oneself a believer publicly testifies that one is on a journey, because faith simply means: What I am seeking is not here, and for that very reason I believe it. Faith expressly signifies the deep, strong, blessed restlessness that drives the believer so that he cannot settle down at rest in this world, and therefore the person who has settled down completely at rest has also ceased to be a believer, because a believer cannot sit still as one sits with a pilgrim's staff in one's hand – a believer travels forward. Soren Kierkegaard
David Platt answers a question in his book Radical that I've been confronted with as well in the past. I thought I would share his response with you all.
I remember when I was first preparing to go to Sudan, a nation impoverished by civil war. The trip was going to cost me around three thousand dollars. It wasn't easy to travel into Sudan since they were still at war, and we would have to charter a plane and spend a few extra days to make that happen. I remember one dear lady in the church coming up to me and asking, "Why don't you just send the three thousand dollars to the people in Sudan? Wouldn't that be a better use of money than your spending a week and a half with them? Think of how far that money could go."
I wrestled with that question. Was I wasting these funds in order to go when I could simply give the money instead? Should I even be going? I continued wrestling with that question until I got to Sudan. There I had a conversation with Andrew that shed some light on the question.
Andrew was sharing with me about his life in Sudan over the last twenty years. He had known war since he was born, and he described facets of the suffering and persecution his people had been through. He told me about the various groups, most of them secular or government organizations, who had brought supplies to them during that time, and he expressed thanks for the generosity of so many people.
But then he looked at me and asked, "Even in light of all these things that people have given us, do you want to know how you can tell who a true brother is?"
I leaned forward and asked, "How?"
He responded, "A true brother comes to be with you in your time of need." Then he looked me in the eye and said, "David, you are a true brother. Thank you for coming to be with us."
Tears welled up in my eyes as the reality of the gospel hit home with me in an entirely new way. I was immediately reminded that when God chose to bring salvation to you and me, he did not send gold or silver, cash or check. He sent himself - the Son. I was convicted for even considering that I should give money instead of actually coming to Sudan..... Was I really so shallow as to think that my money is the answer to the needs in the world?"
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that giving money isn't a wonderful thing. It's beautiful when we sacrifice so that others may have food or shelter or medical care. But going somewhere puts a face on the people to whom you're giving. They are no longer an object of your charity; they are your brothers and sisters. Your dear friends. The same things that hurt them hurt you, and you cry with them instead of just for them.
I remember well when my friend Kevin came back from Rwanda. He worked with a humanitarian organization and grew a deep, deep love for the Rwandan people. It wasn't just that he went, it was what he did when he came back. He talked to all of his friends constantly about how wonderful the Rwandan people are, how kind, how hospitable, how hopeful in the face of heartbreak and past suffering. Because he went, many people, including me, now feel a connection with Rwanda, though we have never been there. We can put faces to the country, and we feel like we have a genuine connection with its people. So not only does going to another country make you a brother or sister to the people there, it stirs a deep love in others when you come back.
Money alone is not the solution. Giving money is just one part of giving our love...and our love - that force that says, "You are my brother, and I hurt and hope with you" - is what really has the power to heal broken nations and broken people.
"What, therefore, is our task today? Should I answer 'Faith, hope and love?' That sounds beautiful. But I would say - courage. No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature... we lack a holy rage - the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity. The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the face of the earth... a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God's earth and and the destruction of God's people. To rage when little children must die of hunger, while the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and the madness of militaries. To rage against the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction peace. To rage against COMPLACENCY. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the kingdom of God."
Whenever I have read about deportation (person or persons expelled from their homes or country), I would never consider it to be a good thing. This morning I was reading about the deportation of two particular Jews, Aquila and Priscilla. Claudius Caesar had first ruled that the Jews were not allowed to have "meetings" and then he decided to expel them from Rome. So being deported from their home and country, Aquila and Priscilla end up in Corinth. Little did these two tentmakers know that their expulsion was "an unlikely route to joy." They not only had Paul the Apostle as a part time tentmaker with them; they were also invited to be part of the Traveling Gospel Team.
"Then Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. There he became acquainted with a Jew named Aquila, born in Pontus, who had recently arrived from Italy with his wife, Priscilla. They had left Italy when Claudius Caesar deported all Jews from Rome. Paul lived and worked with them, for they were tentmakers just as he was."(Acts 18:1-3)
Oh that we as God's kids would have the attitude that our "deportations" from what we love: hometown, job, church, or friends, are chances for us to see God's brilliant maneuvering of our lives into a place where He will receive even more glory. Rather than resisting change or resenting the upheaval of your life, why not look forward to seeing who or what God may bring into your life walk during your expulsion from your comfort zone. When Aquila and Priscilla were packing up there life because of a "cruel expulsion," they had no idea, apart from God's faithfulness, what lay ahead during their forced relocation.
Trusting God with "deportation" from comfort and security is a chance for making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God."
I have been reading the Bible for 44 years and I have always admired the "tag team" of Aquila and Priscilla. Not until this morning did I realize that through an "evil deportation" God brought such good into their lives. Aquila and Priscilla deportation reminds us again to keep whatever comes into our lives in the "context" of God's ever present capacity to take what is intended for evil and bring about good (Gen.50:20).
From Jackie Kendall's Blog/Newsletter (so I did not write this but have definitely had moments like hers of complete revelation and intimacy with Jesus!):
Have you ever been on a date with Jesus? Several years ago, I realized that I had a totally free Friday night (all my family was out of town). I asked myself, "What are you going to do with your free Friday night?" And as soon as I asked myself that question, my heart's reply was, "I can go on a date with Jesus!" So I went to Singer Island and spend the evening sitting on a balcony (8 floors up); waiting for the full moon to rise and enjoying a date with Jesus.
I brought along my Bible and journal and my prayer roll-a-deck. Just as I began to pray through some of the many prayer requests, I paused to look at the ocean and suddenly I see a RAINBOW. Now a rainbow is not unique when it has rained but it hadn't rained. As I was looking at the Rainbow, I started to cry because I had just begun my date with Jesus and He blessed me with a rainbow before the Full Moon had come up! I started to think about what a rainbow represents and I just cried thinking of the many promises that God has made and KEPT. I decided to look up all the references in the Bible in relation to the rainbow and I discovered three men (Noah, Ezekiel and John) who saw three different rainbows but they were all faced something in common-hard circumstances.
As I thought about the rainbows that Ezekiel and John saw, I realized that their view was of heavenly status. The rainbow that we can so casually look at is a reflection of a heavenly proto-type not just a scientific wonder! I will never see a rainbow again without considering "heaven's rainbow of glory about the Holy One."
I began to think about experiencing the beauty of a rainbow without having to go through a storm. Then I realized that we can be rainbows of hope in people's lives even when they aren't facing a storm. Then when their storm arrives; they will start looking for the rainbow of promise for their heart.
As I raised my hands to just praise the Lord for the rainbow insight, suddenly I spotted the full moon. As I was staring at the full moon, I thought about how far men went to visit the moon and to place an American Flag on it. As I pondered the effort, focus, commitment, passion, finances, and sacrifices to land on the moon, my heart began to grieve that men could pay such a HUGE PRICE TO TOUCH THE MOON but they are rarely willing to expend such passion to touch the Heart of the ONE WHO MADE THE MOON.
"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the Moon and the stars which you have set in place, WHAT IS MAN THAT YOU ARE MINDFUL OF HIM" (Ps. 8:3)
As I drove back home from my date with Jesus, I opened my "full moon" roof (sun roof) and was worshipping full throttle! When I raised my right hand through the roof in praise, I started to grin thinking that at that moment "my raised hand touched the heart of the One Who gave me a rainbow while I was waiting for a full moon."
I can't stop listening to this song. It's by a guy named Sufjan Stevens. These words aren't enough though; you really should listen to it. :)
No travel plans, no shopping malls
No candy canes or Santa Claus
For as the day of rest draws near,
It's just the two of us this year.
No silver bells or mistletoe
We'll kiss and watch our TV shows.
I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.
I'll dance with you
I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room.
No traffic jams, no ice and storm
For in the house, the fire is warm
No Christmas tree, no great parade
It's just an ordinary day.
No parties planned, no place to go.
It's just the two of us alone.
and in the house, we see a light
that comes from what we feel inside.
I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.
I'll dance with you, I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room, 'til it's Christmas in the room.
Oh, I can see the day when we'll die,
But I don't care to think of silence.
For now, I hear you laughing -
the greatest joy is like the sunrise.
No gifts to give; they're all right here,
inside our hearts the glorious cheer
And in the house we see a light
that comes from what we know inside.
I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.
I'll dance with you, I'll laugh with you
'Til it's Christmas in the room.
I'll come to you
I'll sing to you
Like it's Christmas in the room.
Like it's Christmas in the room.
It means a lot to me that Jesus was born among animals. No fanfare, decorations, or even visitors until the shepherds came...for a while, it was just Joseph, the exhausted Mary, and their newborn baby. And perhaps a sheep, a donkey, and a cow. One scene among many in which God honors the low and humble.
So, to have "Christmas in the room" means, in one word, intimacy. That's what I love about this song - creating "Christmas" means creating deep, deep connection. What was Christmas, after all, but God being intimate with us? He longs for oneness - first between Him and us, then between us and each other. That's why the Nativity is so popular. It draws us in because it is a perfect picture of intimacy.
I wonder what was going through the heads of those new teenage parents. They didn't have much. All they had was each other and the promises God had given them. And yet that moment they shared, humble as it was, has been recreated millions of times by artists and sculptors...because we "rich" people long for what they had more than anything. Oneness with God and with each other.
My grandmother sent this story to me in an email and I just had to share it. If you would rather watch the video of Beth telling this story herself, it's embedded below. Otherwise, scroll down and read the story. :)
April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville , waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you.
You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is your ego.
I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight. Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt.. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones.
The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man.
I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport.. An impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served up on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him.
Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man..
I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen. And it may be embarrassing.
I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. 'Oh, no, God, please, no.' I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, 'Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!'
There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, 'Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane.' Then I heard it...'I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair.'
The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, 'God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man.'
Again, as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. 'That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair.'
I looked up at God and quipped, 'I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?
God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: 'I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works.' (2 Timothy 3:17)
I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, 'Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?'
He looked back at me and said, 'What did you say?'
'May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?'
To which he responded in volume ten, 'Little lady, if you expect me to hear you, you're going to have to talk louder than that.'
At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, 'SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR? At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Long Locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, 'If you really want to.'
Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, 'Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush.'
'I have one in my bag,' he responded.
I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted I don't do many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while.
The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's.
I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knee and said, 'Sir, do you know my Jesus?'
He said, 'Yes, I do'
Well, that figures, I thought.
He explained, 'I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior.' He said, 'You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride..'
Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance.This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.
Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.
I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing.
Why did you do that? What made you do that?"
I said, 'Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!'
And we got to share.
I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!
I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way... all because I didn't want people to think I was strange.
God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.
Cleaning out my email inbox and finding all these awesome old newsletters she sent...thought I would share this one too. Good stuff. How To Forgive the Guy Who is Just Not That Into You
The new comedy He's Just Not That Into You, reminded me of the painful reality of how many women have been hurt by what I call "bozo" guys. I asked a single gal the other day what she thought of the movie, and she said, "Good but painful." She went on to say, "It was painful to watch women who just don't get it." I have been on the war path for years trying to warn single gals about their pursuit of "bozo" guys. Now I realize that I need to teach singles how to forgive the bozo guy who just broke her heart, to forgive the guy who is "just not that into her"-who used up her attention, time and body and then tossed her like a paper cup. This is my new passion with singles.
How do so many wonderful single gals end up hurt by the guy who is just not that into her? The main reason she gets hurt is she breaks the 11th commandment: "Defraud Not Thyself." Countless women actually lead themselves on through the fantasy that this guy who just chatted so charmingly with them for an hour may actually be interested in pursuing a relationship with them. Consider how often women are angry about a particular guy leading their girlfriend on in a dating relationship. Girls and women alike are angered when a guy defrauds a girl by leading her on-often the result of a guy's agenda to merely play at love to get sex.
Yet how often do single woman get angry with their girlfriends who helped feed her own fantasy about "Mr. Right?" Defrauding oneself is such a masochistic crime against a woman's own heart. To defraud one-self is self harm! When a gal meets a wonderful guy, her immediate response needs to be prayer and not text messaging a friend about the "Mr. Right" she thinks she has just met.
Being offended is inevitable as long as you occupy a place on planet earth-but staying offended is a choice.
After realizing the time and energy you have put into a guy who is "just not that into you," you are likely going to be very disappointed. Inevitably, disappointment is followed by anger or depression. Because you know it is not healthy to stay angry, you will actually give yourself a "gift" when you consider forgiving this guy. The gift is your freedom.
Why forgive the guy who is just not that into you? When I don't forgive I become a prisoner to the resentment of being defrauded by him. One needs to forgive this guy for doing what he does best-being human. People assume that "time heals all wounds," but that is actually not true. Without the freeing choice of forgiving that guy, time simply moves the pain below the surface where it will ferment and poison your heart.
The gift of forgiving allows you to let go of hurt and move on with hope, because when you have hope, you are no one's prisoner! Don't be the gal who is held hostage to yesterday as she refuses to let go of unwanted hurt and move on to a new chapter. It's in that forgiving chapter that you have the prospect of a happy ending-the freedom to hope and love again.
This Hope Alert will be archived at www.jackiekendall.blogspot.com.
I subscribe to Jackie Kendall's newsletter, "Hope Alert." This one really stuck out to me. If you want to subscribe to her, click here: http://www.jackiekendall.com/
What Did Abigail, Obadiah and King Asa Have in Common?
A.O.A.
What did a wife, palace staffer and a king of Judah have in common? What is the common thread between A.O.A.? Here is a brief glimpse of each one-see if you spot the "holy commonality."
Abigail: wife of a very foolish rich man Nabal. Living with a difficult man became f context of instruction in good judgment for Abigail.
"Thank God for your good sense (good judgment)! Bless you for keeping me from murder and from carrying out vengeance with my own hands." (I Sam. 25:33)
Good sense in this passage spoken by David to Abigail refers to: good judgment developed through experience. Difficult marriage was not wasted on Abigail-she grew in discretion and wisdom-and blessed King David through her good judgment.
Obadiah: his name in Hebrew means: servant of Yahweh-worshiper of Yahweh. Now here is a servant of Yahweh whose job was the head staff member in the palace of evil twin rulers-Ahab & Jezebel.
"Ahab had summoned Obadiah who was in charge of his palace. Obadiah was fully devoted to the LORD - hiding 100 prophets from Jezebel who was trying to slaughter the LORD's servants."(I Kings 18:3,4)
Serving under two evil rulers did not keep Obadiah from being fully devoted to the LORD and even risking his life to protect Yahweh's prophets.
Asa (King of Judah): Asa used good judgment when he inherited the throne of Judah, he did not follow in the footsteps of his evil father but chose to follow his ancestor King David-doing what was right in the eyes of the LORD. King Asa not only rid the land of Judah of idols, he also deposed his own grandmother because she had made a heinous Asherah pole.
"He also removed his grandmother Maacah from being queen mother because she had made an obscene image of Asherah." (I Kings 15:13)
Did Abigail, Obadiah or Asa let their difficult situation keep them from doing what is right in the eyes of the LORD?
Abigail difficult marriage
Obadiah difficult work context
Asa difficult family heritage
Abigail, Obadiah and Asa made good choices even though the context of their lives was not always conducive to their devotion to the LORD. A.O. A. J. Can I add your initial to this list? I just added mine. By God's grace I have not allowed a difficult context to determine whether or not I would obey the LORD.
P.S. I am already praying for my granddaughter Emma that she will grow to be so devoted to the LORD that she would even "depose grandma Kendall" if I ever began to treasure anything or anyone more than Yahweh!
From "Transposition" by C.S. Lewis, in the book "The Weight of Glory."
Let us construct a fable. Let us picture a woman thrown into a dungeon. There she bears and rears a son. He grows up seeing nothing but the dungeon walls, the straw on the floor, and a little patch of the sky seen through the grating, which is too high up to show anything except sky. This unfortunate woman was an artist, and when they imprisoned her she managed to bring with her a drawing pad and a box of pencils. As she never loses the hope of deliverance, she is constantly teaching her son about that outer world which he has never seen.
She does it very largely by drawing him pictures. With her pencil she attempts to show him what fields, rivers, mountains, cities, and waves on a beach are like. He is a dutiful boy and he does his best to believe her when she tells him that that outer world is far more interesting and glorious than anything in the dungeon. At times he succeeds. On the whole he gets on tolerably well until, one day, he says something that gives his mother pause. For a minute or two they are at cross-purposes. Finally it dawns on her that he has, all these years, lived under a misconception.
"But," she gasps, "you didn't think that the real world was full of lines drawn in lead pencil?"
"What?" says the boy. "No pencil marks there?" And instantly his whole notion of the outer world becomes a blank. For the lines, by which alone he was imagining it, have now been denied of it. He has no idea of that which will exclude and dispense with the lines, that of which the lines were merely a transposition - the waving treetops, the light dancing on the weir, the coloured three-dimensional realities which are not enclosed in lines but define their own shapes at every moment with a delicacy and multiplicity which no drawing could ever achieve.
The child will get the idea that the real world is somehow less visible than his mother's pictures. In reality it lacks lines because it is incomparably more visible.
So with us. "We know not what we shall be" (1 John 3:2); but we may be sure we shall be more, not less, than we were on earth. Our natural experiences (sensory, emotional, imaginative) are only like the drawing, like pencilled lines on flat paper.
....
You will have noticed that most dogs cannot understand pointing. You point to a bit of food on the floor; the dog, instead of looking at the floor, sniffs at your finger. A finger is a finger to him, and that is all. His world is all fact and no meaning. And in a period when factual realism is dominant we shall find people deliberately inducing upon themselves this doglike mind. A man who has experienced love from within will deliberately go about to inspect it analytically from outside and regard the results of this analysis as truer than his experience.
As long as this deliberate refusal to understand things from above, even where such understanding is possible, continues, it is idle to talk of any final victory over materialism. The critique of every experience from below, the voluntary ignoring of meaning and concentration on fact, will always have the same plausibility. There will always be evidence, and every month fresh evidence, to show that religion is only psychological, justice only self-protection, politics only economics, love only lust, and thought itself only cerebral biochemistry.
/End C.S. Lewis, begin Becky
I'm thinking that while we should avoid a purely hedonistic view of heaven, at the same time there is no shame in picturing it as a place of great earthly pleasures. Not that they will exist there in the same sense that they exist here, but that we must associate heaven with our greatest joy. We can't deprive ourselves of picturing any pleasure in heaven simply because we can't now imagine the form it will take. We can't now imagine the incredible relationship we will have with the King, so we must take our best experiences with earthly relationships and with the Holy Spirit and combine them into a promising shadow of what will be. So the view of heaven provided for us in the Bible, a place of feasting and riches, is not an elementary one, but a way of relating for us the joy we are to obtain. And here is where God is once again so wonderful - on one hand, He tells us things we can't possibly understand and can only speculate on until we die, reminding us of His mystery and highness, but on the other hand He speaks of some of our purest, simplest pleasures being present there - aesthetic beauty and good food.
