Life 101

The calendar pages flip, the birthday candles add up, the grays multiply and gravity takes its toll. Life can wear a person out, but if you're smart, you learn a few things along the way.

Some things I've learned are fairly inconseqential, yet valuable. For instance, you're in the grocery store for a few things. You pick up one thing. Then another. You get to the back of the store and remember the ingredients for the cupcakes you're supposed to bake, or the 20 lb. box of detergent you need, whatever. You realize you REALLY should have grabbed a cart and sigh at the prospect of returning to the front of the store to get one. Then, lo and behold! A cart! Seemingly sent from heaven, empty and unattended, as if the angel Gabriel provided you ease of shopping. Listen up: DO NOT GET THAT CART! Do you hear me? That cart is from Satan and was abandoned for a reason! It will challenge your religion as well as your vow to clean up your language. It is worth the trip to the front of the store! Simply one thing I have learned on my journey.

Another thing just continues to bubble in front of me, and I can't let it go. I've heard it a minimum of a million six times. It's scripture so I would never have challenged it, but I just have seen it lived out too many times to ignore it:

"What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders
away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one
that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about
that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same
way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be
lost." Matthew 18:12-14

As Coffee Group travels telling our stories, I never fail to hear something new in our stories. But one thing I consistently think when Tammy tells her story of years of wandering, seeking peace and comfort in places other than God's arms, is how God wouldn't let her stay there. He sought her out, hunted her down, and wouldn't let her go. I thought the same thing reading "Same Kind of Different As Me". Both of the authors mention shallow (or non-existent) faith in their lives, but the story that unfolds is, to me, evidence that God wouldn't rest until they had returned.

The recent attention that Josh Hamilton has garnered is yet another illustration of that (you MUST click on that link -- AMAZING). Truly, I would yet to hear about him if not for Kelly, the cutest baseball fan I know, but his story so clearly illustrates God's tenacious seeking of His wandering children. And, just last night, I was having a phone conversation with my own brother, who had what I call "his prodigal years". We were talking about how heart-breaking it was for the rest of us in my family to see him like that. I mentioned that I believe with all of my heart (and I still do) that it was the fervent, pleading prayers of my mother that brought that child of God back into the fold. Even as I said it, though, I continued to think -- mom's prayers, and God's faithfulness to His children. God wouldn't let my brother go. He refused to surrender one of His children to the darkness. And, by my brother's own account -- it isn't like he was, at the time, very valuable to the Kingdom.

But, oh, the value of a rescued soul. The hearts they can touch. If for no other reason, than to proclaim, "If He wanted me, the way I was, then He probably wants you, too." God gives us the freedom to try, but you cannot sin beyond His love and forgiveness. Nor can you run far enough from His loving embrace. The story of the prodigal is so glorious. The moment the son could be seen returning to his Father's home, "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." (Luke 15:20)

Obviously, way better than learning how to avoid a rotten shopping cart, I am convinced that the Lord seeks out His children relentlessly. And when He sees them over the top of hill, He gathers His robes around His feet and runs to meet that child with loving arms. Glory.

For My Yoke Is Easy

I started to send this in an email to a select few folks who will know the whole story (and by "select few" I mean, "anyone who happened to be standing nearby while I was whining about this situation"). But I have often said that I am all about transparency, so I shall transparently tell you of my ugly pride and how it continues to stand in the way of the Lord's work.

As the previous post mentioned/ illustrated -- I interpret for the deaf at our congregation. This summer, with college students gone, I have taken on most of the interpreting. As in, all of it. I had a few people who said they would try to help as they could, but, like most folks, they were in and out, and I didn't think any of them were really comfortable with doing most of it, so I forged ahead. For many weeks, I simply considered it my honor to be able to serve. I preached, led singing, shared a communion meditation, prayed, and read scripture, then taught a Bible class -- in my second language. Then, I staggered to a restaurant for lunch, then home for a very long nap. And thus it was.

At one point I figured out that one woman really would help out, she just needed a little advance warning/ notice. So I got her all lined up to help me out on the Sunday I was traveling to Houston -- then her husband got very ill suddenly. And died the next week. And I was SO sad for this precious woman who has become very dear to me and at the same time I was continuing to wear myself out. I prayed and prayed about it. I gave it to the Lord many times over.

Until I finally said, "That's it. I can do no more. During August I will sit. I will not interpret. If our deaf friend would like to know what's happening in service, I will tell him. Otherwise, I will be sitting." I can't tell you the guilt and agony over that one decision. It goes against every bit of my training, but was all I knew to do to save my sanity. Other people who had initially offerred to help were shocked, I guess, and a few started back-pedaling, "I'm not sure how much I can do." or "I may still be gone a lot in August." I told them, "I had to make that decision for me -- whether or not anyone else would step up. Do whatever you are at peace doing -- for that is what I am doing."

So as August has gone on, and people see that I really am sitting, it gets under the skin of some of the interpreters out there, too. They can't let church go by without being interpreted. I truly THOUGHT I had given one and all every opportunity to take my place. Maybe I gave off a "vibe" that I didn't want anyone else to do it. Maybe they weren't ready to take it on. But it seems that now that I am out of the way, interpreters are coming out of the woodwork.

I have repented so many times over of missing the Lord's leading. I think of it as God's work is/ was a steamroller, with me running along in front of it. The Driver was shouting SOMETHING to me, but over the noise of my life, all I thought He was saying was, "Run faster! Run harder! Don't quit! Run faster!" NOW I know He was saying, "GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Again, with the perfect vision of hindsight, I have also recalled Matthew 11:28-30:

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.

His yoke is easy! His burden is light. Which should have told me all along, "Hi, Jack. I'm Annette. You're doing it wrong." I was doing it wrong. I let my pride tell myself that surely I had to do it. Surely the Lord needed ME. Now I know that the Lord can use so many more people if I will get out of His way!