Worthy

This morning I was sound asleep when my alarm went off. What’s more, I was in the midst of a nice dream, and perfectly comfy in my bed. My first sensation was one of revulsion at the rudeness of the alarm, nagging at me that it was time to be up and going to work.

As I stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom, my eye fell on the devotional calendar from yesterday, which was about the value that Judas Iscariot placed on the Lord—in His eyes, Jesus was worth only thirty pieces of silver. The calendar challenged, “What is He worth to you?”

My mind leaped over the usual, obvious answers—the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me, is worthy of all my love, my means, my time, my life. Every Christian knows that, at least theoretically.

Then I thought, “Why, He’s worthy for me to jump uncomplainingly out of bed in the morning!” Duh. He’s also worthy for me to go cheerfully to work, and to carry a smiling face that betrays what a wonderful Savior He is. He’s worthy for me to deny myself a small pleasure for the sake of another person. He’s worthy for me to look dumb by refusing to laugh when other people make dirty jokes. He’s worthy for me to be thankful for the thousands of blessings that flood my life, rather than zooming in on the few annoying things that I have to deal with. He’s worthy for me to do a good and cheerful job cleaning the toilet. He’s worthy for me to wash the dishes. He’s worthy for me to be patient with my hearing impaired grandfather. He’s worthy for me to take good care of the body that He’s lent to me. He’s worthy for me to battle self pity when it comes whispering round. He’s worthy for me to give up my to-do list for the day when interruptions come.

Yes, He’s worthy to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing (Rev. 5:12)! He’s worthy of the Name that is above every name (Phil. 2:9). He’s worthy of the crowns of glory and honor that God the Father has given Him (Heb. 2:9). Isn’t He worthy of the happy devotion of one of His children, in every area of life? And after all, isn’t an alarm clock a great reminder to begin praising the God who has given us the privilege of waking up another morning?

When the Fog Tore

It was one of the most memorable moments of my summer. One day in June, I stood on top of Mt. Madison in New Hampshire, panting and sweating after three hours of stiff climbing. My friend Andrea and I had started hiking at 5:30, on what looked like a beautiful day in early summer. By the time we reached treeline, cold mist was swirling around us, and the sun was merely a bright spot in the blurry grey world. Now, at last, we were at the top, resting (if that’s the right word to use when you’re fighting to keep your balance and hear one another’s voices in the wind), and enjoying the view of….fog.

Andrea was digging to find something in her pack, and I straightened up to cast another look at where the horizon should have been. Suddenly I let out an exclamation and caught my breath. A slit had appeared in the swirling mist, a tear through the cottony curtain into the blueness beyond. For seconds, I caught a glorious view of mountaintops poking up through clouds, blue sky above them. Then, before I could get Andrea’s attention, it was gone. I shouted something in her ear about how there had been a beautiful view, and she turned to look, but the vista was, once again, only fog. We watched hopefully, eagerly,--and then it happened again, and we both cried out with delight at the beauty and I fumbled for my camera. But no camera could capture that dynamic moment of elation, awe, moving clouds, and clear vision. It tried, and failed.

For the next twelve hours we hiked, hopeful for another rend in the clouds or even a ray of clear sunshine. Once or twice, the veil was pulled away and we could see the panorama of splendor that surrounded us.

The rest of the time, our world was shrunk to a diameter of about a hundred feet, sometimes less, punctuated by hail, rain, and snow. We trudged on from one cairn to cairn, watching for the next one to emerge from the fog ahead. We were never lost—we always knew where we were, where we had come from, and where we were going. We simply couldn’t see any of it.

After that moment of breathtaking sight on top of Mt. Madison, I exclaimed to Andrea, “If that’s all the view we get all day, this hike will have been worth it!” And it was. Because that moment has returned to my mind many times this summer, when all that I could see of the significance of my life seemed no more than swirling mist and dull fog, annoying rain and stinging hail, trudging from one week to the next as I flipped the calendar pages.

2 Corinthians 5:7 took on a new meaning for me, “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” The mountains, the valleys, the horizon, the sun, the blue sky, all were absolutely real, even when I couldn’t see them. The trail lay where it always had, the cairns were just as substantial, the map was just as trustworthy—and in this was our salvation. If we had been following our sight, we would have been lost in no time. As far as we could see, the terrain beyond the wall of fog could have been the Sahara Desert, or the Amazon jungle; we could as well have been at the bottom of a ravine as on top of a mountain ridge.

The promises and purposes of God are quite unchanged, whether or not I can see their fulfillment. The righteousness of God is as substantial and changeless as the mountains (Ps. 36:6), and therefore I do not need to fear that when the fog clears, the light of God’s smile will have gone out. His will, revealed day by day, is steadfastly leading me to the goal that only He can see. The panorama view of the purpose of God for the entire universe throughout all of eternity, is glorious and breathtaking, and when, every so often, He gives me a glimpse of my place in that plan, it sustains me for the next long trek through the fog.

Why the fog, then? Maybe it’s because when there’s nothing else to see, my eyes will learn to focus on Him, the Originator of all things beautiful. When there’s no one else to talk to, when the noise of the wind drowns out the clamor of other voices, my soul is drawn to commune with Him. The beauty of the view would be nothing without Him as its Maker, and so He teaches me to enjoy Him first and foremost. Maybe it’s because the fog is as much a part of His beautiful plan as anything else.

Handfuls of Barley

“Boaz commanded his servants, saying, ‘…you shall purposely pull out for her some grain from the bundles and leave it that she may glean..." (Ruth 2:15-16)

It wasn’t the most efficient way to harvest a field, nor the neatest, nor the most profitable. Yet it was the kindest way. It was the way Boaz chose, when he saw the lonely, hardworking foreign woman bent gleaning in his field.

I wonder what Ruth thought about as she worked? Surely the labor was tedious, and as her back ached and her eyes stung with streams of sweat, she must have thought that her pile of barley was growing very slowly. Then suddenly, among the stubble, not a single stem of barley, nor even two or three, but a whole handful! How gratefully she added it to her collection, and went on with renewed energy. Perhaps, as she continued to find, here and there, these handfuls of barley, she wondered where they came from. Was one of the reapers more careless than the others, too lazy to harvest thoroughly? Then, as she caught up with them, perhaps she saw one of the reapers, and then another, pull from their bursting sheaves a handful of barley and drop it on the ground. And she knew they were doing it for her.

But they would not dare to be kind on their own initiative, for Boaz was no insignificant farmer, and it wouldn’t be good for them to be caught doing a slovenly job. The only answer, then, was that he must be behind this kindness—and indeed she could believe it of him, for he had served her so generously at the noon meal, and provided so thoroughly for her while she worked in his fields. Now she looked for the bunches of barley, and smiled to herself when she gathered them, for they were silent witnesses that he was thinking of her.

I’ve never seen a barley field, but lately I’ve been noticing the handfuls of barley that lie here and there along my path.

The other day at work, I started humming, half unconscious that I was doing it. My patient said, “That’s beautiful. It must be something about Jesus.” I was startled for a moment, and stopped to indentify what I had been humming. It was one of my favorite hymns, the first verse of which runs, “Loved with everlasting love, led by grace that love to know, gracious Spirit from above, Thou has taught me it is so. Oh this full and perfect peace, oh this transport all divine, in a love that cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.”

“Why, yes!” I said. “It is about Jesus! What made you think so?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just knew that it was.”

And I smiled, startled by the suddenness with which this handful of barley had fallen at my feet. Somebody was thinking of me.

Beauty "Wasted"

I don’t know about you, but I wonder a lot about what the coming years hold for me. My own head is crammed with ideas; I can only imagine what the infinite God has in mind!

Yet I have to say, so far His ideas don’t seem to be quite as exciting as mine have been. A couple years ago, I could have told you several rather thrilling things that I hoped to be doing at age 24, but which in fact don’t resemble my present circumstances at all. It’s been easy to question the perfection of the Lord’s will, especially when it seems like other people my age are living out my dreams.

Yet I’m not complaining—not at all. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You see, the other day I got to thinking about roses. No, not the kind that girls dream about, but rather the pesky multi-floral roses that line our fields on the farm. I was walking through the sweetly-scented evening air, and noticed the graceful sprays of roses that grew on the prickly bushes. Each blossom was so simple and yet so beautiful, and arranged so artistically on the branches, which arced so gracefully in the air.

And I thought, how is it that God puts beauty everywhere, even in the most unappreciated—even unobserved—places? A walk through the woods reveals pockets of ferns, illuminated by gently dappled sunlight. It’s quite possible that I will be the only human ever to observe those ferns before they die in the fall. They’re beautiful when they don’t have to be. Even the grass along the cowpath is stunningly beautiful when you stop to notice. Likewise the wisps of cloud in the sky, made to swirl gracefully for no reason at all but that God is the Maker.

In fact, it is hard to think of a single thing that God has made which is not beautiful in one sense or another. It’s not just that God perfectly designed everything for its intended function. That is true too, but He always blends art with science to make His works beautiful. He can afford to “waste” beauty where humans would consider it unnecessary.

I always want to laugh when I see a cell phone tower disguised as a tree. It’s a perfect illustration of the difference between the creations of God, and the inventions of humans. God builds in starry skies, grassy fields, and towering mountains. Man builds in concrete and rebar. God gives the world voice in bird songs, trickling waters, and the crash of ocean waves. The sounds of mankind are beeping alarms, traffic, and phones ringing. This is not to say that the inventions of humans are bad, nor that we cannot produce things of beauty (although the beauty we produce is strangely like an imitation of God’s handiwork). The point is merely that compared to God, our ideas don’t look so great.

That’s why, when I stop to think about it, I’m okay with letting God design my life. There’s always somebody to whisper that obeying God is a confining thing, ultimately leading to less fun and more work. But when I stop to think about it, that idea is positively ludicrous! He won’t forget to put a healthy dose of beauty and thrill into my life at the right times. In fact, when I stop to notice, my life already contains plenty of interludes of delight and just plain fun.

My observation of the lives of other people confirms the idea that God’s way is always best. When He brings about a marriage, it doesn’t just “work,” but is full of delight and thrill. When He plans out a career, it doesn’t just pay the bills, but contains opportunities that are meaningful for eternity. When He directs a life, it’s never average, but turns out to be more full, more significant, and more satisfying than anything we could have thought up. And He makes even the weeds to bear roses.

Just Wanted to Say...

...it's a simply splendid evening out there! I went out to bring in some laundry from the clothesline and was arrested by the beauty of the moment. The sky wasn't yet black, but salmon near the horizon, darkening to a deep blue green, and dotted by a few early stars and the diamond glint of a planet. The frogs were piping a rousing song from the pond, and lightening bugs flashed applause. The silhouette of one of the cows stood sharply against the sky on a distant ridge.

And I looked up at the giant bowl of the sky, and thought, "He loves me!" The one Who created such an orchestra of praise, and conducts its music, loves ME! Now that's a nice thought to pillow my head on as I drop off to sleep.

Yet Another Post...

I'm sorry that my posting is so sporadic--either there are no posts for weeks or three in one day! I haven't gotten to take a whole lot of pictures lately but here are some from the past couple months.

"But if God so arrays the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more do so for you, O men of little faith?" Matthew 6:30

"Let the field exult, and all that is in it...

...then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy...

...before the Lord, for He is coming; for He is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness, and the peoples in His faithfulness." Psalm 96:12,13

"Bless the Lord, O my soul! O LORD my God, Thou art very great; Thou art clothed with splendor and majesty...He makes the clouds His chariot, He walks upon the wings of the wind." Psalm 104: 1,3

Ordained Days

A couple weeks ago, a little comment that I read somewhere drew my attention to look at a familiar verse of Scripture a bit differently than I had done before. The verse is Psalm 139:16, “In Thy book they were all written, the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them.”

I had always assumed that this verse meant that God knew the number of days that my life will contain—and of course, this is true. Yet the sense in which I now saw it is that God has ordained each of my days for a specific purpose. God, as a Being Who is infinite in every dimension of His character, knows everything , so He has always known what would happen on each day of my life. Yet it brings an entirely new perspective to realize that He has designed a purpose for each of my days, and the circumstances they contain. Of course, if I choose to disobey His will as revealed in His Word, then I will miss out on some of the benefits that He intended for my days to hold. He hasn’t programmed me to do certain things, such that I have no choice in the matter. But let’s assume that a Christian is walking, to the best of his ability and knowledge, in the path that God wants Him to take.

He has some days that are obviously wonderful days. Perhaps they are days in which he accomplishes some notable victory over sin, or sees God use him in a remarkable way. Perhaps they are simply days in which he came to know and enjoy God better. It’s easy to see how God ordained those days.

Then, there are the bad days. A tragedy happens, or a great disappointment comes; it is a day of pain and sadness. Fortunately the Lord put Romans 8:28,29 in the Bible, so that we know that “God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose…to become conformed to the image of His Son.” It is possible to see how the Lord is using a bad day, to help us draw closer to Him and find Him sufficient.

But on the average days, it can be so hard to see God’s purpose. They are days in which we are simply doing what is our duty, going to work or school, trying to do all things to the glory of God and yet not seeing anything remarkable happening. On one such day, I rode the bus home from work, wondering what had been accomplished for God that day. I couldn’t see that I had passed by any great opportunity to serve Him, nor did I see much that I could have done differently so as to allow my day to have more eternal impact. Then verses started coming to mind like James 1:4, “and let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

The Lord speaks so highly in the New Testament of endurance and perseverance, as something to be sought after and cultivated—and yet how are these developed but by time? Most board games have blank spaces as well as those that say, “Congratulations! Take two tokens and move ahead six spaces.” The blank spaces don’t seem to accomplish anything, and yet they do have a purpose. Fine wine and cheeses have to be aged for many days—days in which nothing visible is happening, and yet which are vital to the aging process.

So when I see my days slipping by and think that God should have given me something more significant to do during those days, I’m completely missing the big picture. I may feel like my life is speeding by, like the hourglass is running out, and yet God has plenty of days to spare in which to develop me into the person He wants me to be. After all, He does know the number of days that my life will hold, and it’s just the right number to do the work that needs to be done.
1 Corinthians 6:19,20 reminds Christians, “Do you not know that…you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price…” If my very body is not my own, but belongs to Christ Who bought me with His blood, then my days are also not mine to spend. It is also not my place to judge whether or not God is spending “my” days in the best way possible. My only concern should be that I am walking in His will—and sometimes the only thing I understand about that will is that it is “good and acceptable and perfect.” (Romans 12:2)

The other day I was mixing muffins. A most unfulfilling and trivial occupation in the light of eternity. Mix, mix, mix, trying to get the flour evenly blended with the liquids. Whoop-de-do. I could live rather easily without muffins, especially when I have to take the time to make them. But I was making them for my grandparents, and a fresh batch of muffins can be a big event in their monotonous days. So I found myself stopping and committing the muffins to the Lord as a tiny gift of love to Him. The words of Moses the man of God seemed so fitting for that day, and for many “average” days, “Let Thy work appear to Thy servants, and Thy majesty to their children…and do confirm for us the work of our hands; Yes, confirm for us the work of our hands.” (Psalm 90:16,17)