This Is What It Feels Like

(Dedicated in loving memory to one of my greatest spiritual mentors, Mrs. Chittenden. She is rejoicing as a new member of the "Great Cloud of Witnesses" club in heaven and cheering us on to our own finish lines!)

Last night my husband and I watched a football game together. Typically the plays happen so fast that I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening until the scenario is played back in slow motion. 

In slow motion, everything makes perfect sense.

Sometimes real life also unfolds faster than we can comprehend.

In both the good times and the tough times, life allows us to learn first hand what it feels like to live in a moment. The football player lying on the field holding his injured knee is living fully in a moment.

Watching athletes perform to their highest potentials is a thrill BECAUSE of the risk involved. At any moment, something could go right and at any moment something could go wrong. We watch as spectators for a lot of different reasons; but whatever our reasons, we remain safe on the sidelines.

Instead of wondering what it feels like to race full throttle down the field, the basketball court or the track, we safely watch with racing hearts as others live in the space of feeling every moment of an experience.  One day the question, “I wonder what it feels like?” is replaced with drive and tenacity to do whatever it takes to discover for ourselves what living fully in the moment of something amazing feels like. We discover that risk is something to be embraced and not feared.

I love sports and the dedication of athletes, but living fully in each moment that life presents can overflow into every area of our own lives regardless our athleticism or the lack thereof. Wonder what it feels like to be happily married? Serve your spouse with the endurance of an athlete—especially when no one is watching—and see what happens. Wonder what it feels like to teach a child to see past himself or herself? Become the parent who practices selfless acts of love to those people whom you encounter in your daily life.

I lived fully and simultaneously in both a sad and a wonderful moment this week when I attended a funeral for a woman who deeply impacted the lives of dozens of people. Coincidentally the lady we honored didn’t have an athletic bone in her body. Instead, she dared greatly each day, giving her life to teaching and to selflessly pouring the love of God into every student she taught for over 30 years. 

It was evident to everyone who knew her that at some point in her life she had experienced a deep encounter with God, after which time she understood her life’s purpose was to teach others about the love and kindness of God.  She was never in the spotlight, nor did she seek to be. However, in her tireless endeavor to be the voice, hands, heart and humble teacher like her Savior, not one student was missed under her watch. She was available 100% of the time for this writer. I am greatly humbled to have been mentored by such a selfless person and to have been the recipient of her patient prayers, love and kindness. 

I am learning that in the absence of mentors, teachers, parents and persons of influence, we must dare to take the initiatives to step up to the plates, grab ahold of the batons being passed down to us— and willingly share with others what has been freely given to us.

If given the gift to to watch our lives play back in slow motion, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see that in every encounter, in every circumstance, in every God-given talent and in every life we touch, all honor and glory points others to our Creator? 

In slow motion, everything makes perfect sense.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Just Passing Through

As a realtor in Alaska I have noticed a common theme in our state that sets us apart from all the states in the lower 48—Alaska is very transient. The long, dark winters do not help with the imminent loneliness created by the isolation of living so far away from family and friends. Loneliness ultimately leads many newcomer’s to a short-lived Alaskan experience.

Although considered a friendly state, when it comes to establishing deep relationships, Alaska can prove to be a challenge. The old timer’s whom I speak with admit that they are hesitant to get to know a person until they know if the person is or isn’t going to “stick.” The process of “sticking,” I have learned, is a test of longevity. Alaskan’s can be a tough crowd to crack when wanting to grow a potential friendship. Unless you’re not in a big hurry.

In pondering this unique dynamic I have slowly landed on my own conclusion of how I should relate to fellow Alaskan’s and to people in general—even if my window of relationship is weeks or months instead of years and decades. My conclusion rests on scripture.

If ever there was an example in the Word of God of a man who was keenly aware of his earthly transiency, it was Jesus: “Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” (Matthew 8:20).” Jesus did not come to the world to build a mansion or to set up camp in one place. He left a mansion to come to earth. Jesus cared more about the state of one’s heart than the geography of one’s residence. 

Even though Jesus passed from one region through to the next region, and so on— He was never in so great a hurry that He forgot what His real purpose was: relationships. Reaching the lost. People mattered to Him. Whomever was in front of Him mattered. Crowds. Individuals. Children. Short. Fat. Blind. Tattered. Unkempt. He didn’t view anyone as unworthy of His time nor did He withhold His love from anyone.   

Jesus' short time on earth was lived boldly and humbly for each one of us. Our time on earth is short too. The notion that a person must earn his or her way into our lives is ridiculous when considering the life Jesus modeled. 

However, Jesus also taught us balance. 

In order to pour out of Himself to individuals and crowds, Jesus protected His sacred alone time with His Father: “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed” (Mark 1:35).

Even when the crowds sought Jesus in his solitary places of prayer, His compassion was always tempered with His divine purpose, “The people were looking for him and when they came to where he was, they tried to keep him from leaving them. But he said, “I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because that is why I was sent.” And he kept on preaching in the synagogues of Judea” (Luke 4:42-44).

The truth about living in Alaska, or about living anywhere on earth, is that we are all just passing through. This world is not our home. We are sojourners in a foreign land. 

But while we ARE here we can make every opportunity count like our Savior did. We can emerge from our solitary places of prayer equipped to see, care and love the person in front of us. Even if he or she doesn’t “stick.”

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Here Turkey, Turkey

(One of my unforgettable memories from living in Wisconsin for so many years is hunting season. Hunting continues to be taken very serious by most Wisconsinites. Back in the day, in our small farming community, boys AND girls of all ages missed school during hunting season. Tomorrow in Wisconsin, gun deer season opens. Although our dad took us deer hunting as kids on several occasions, my most fond memory remains one which was shared with my neighbor Erv, not during deer hunting season but during turkey hunting season...)

Quite a few years ago when I lived in Wisconsin, my neighbor Erv, an avid hunter, was chatting with me about the upcoming spring turkey hunting season.  I’m not sure how it happened, but before the conversation ended I found myself agreeing that it might be fun to try turkey hunting.  Erv, retired and eager to teach, jumped at the opportunity to take me turkey hunting. Before I knew it, I found myself purchasing a hunting license.  Being a good sport, I didn’t want to ruin the experience for him.  And who knew, maybe turkey hunting would be fun.  

Erv had known me since I was ten years old, and took my small interest in turkey hunting quite serious.  I realized early on there would be no backing out of our incredible turkey adventure. Tiny details such has not owning a gun or hunting garb didn’t deter Erv.  He brought out something that looked like an army truck tarp. “Just put on this jumpsuit,” he insisted, “roll up the legs and sleeves and you’ll be fine.”  Next, he handed me a shotgun or a rifle, (I’m not sure what the difference is), “Here you go, you’re all set!” Erv exclaimed with authority.

Never having shot a gun, it was imperative that we have “shooting” lessons before the big day arrived. Erv’s suggestion, of course. By this point I was too deep in to back out. Anyway, it looked pretty simple:  aim for box, pull trigger, loud noise--holes in box.  I didn’t understand what there was to practice for when it came to firing a shotgun (or a rifle, whatever it was).  Erv went first. Like I said, it looked pretty simple.  

“OK, Sheila,” Erv stated with a big country smile, his seasoned hunting eyes twinkling as if he knew something I didn’t know, “your turn.”

“So I just aim for the box and pull this trigger?”  I asked Erv politely so he wouldn’t feel as if he was standing there for no reason.  He nodded. I pulled the trigger.

Erv pretended to not be surprised when I landed on my butt from my kneeling position.  I laughed first so he wouldn’t feel awkward.  I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

I was unaware that turkey hunting was an early morning sport.  I was also unaware that rain didn’t influence whether or not the hunt should be canceled.  Erv handed me a hat that coincidentally matched the tarp I was already wearing. I learned quickly that getting wet and attempting to walk quietly through the dark woods at 5 a.m. was part of the hunting experience.  

Erv’s hearing isn’t what it once was and he kept talking me through our “plan” in what he believed to be a whisper.  I smiled and nodded while delicately tripping over tree roots and branches in my oversized tarp.

Erv pulled a gadget out of his camouflage jumpsuit and started making turkey noises. I silently prayed no turkeys would come within shooting distance.  As if on cue, turkeys came into view. My heart began to race. Erv’s eyes lit up and his whisper grew even louder.

“Ok, Sheila, sit real still by this tree and get your gun in position.”

“Oh dear, God,” I secretly groaned as I planted my wet, cold body next to the tree and lifted the gun to my shoulder.  How did I get into this situation in the first place?  I’m cold, tired, drenched and I don’t like turkey meat.  Obediently, I put my eye to the scope and my finger on the trigger.  My teeth began to chatter and my body grew tense as I tried to steady the shotgun.  I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

Turkey was clueless that his life was in danger.  He strutted about searching the ground for his next meal, unaware that he was in my scope to be my next meal. 

“Steady now,” Erv coached me.  I had never seen him this excited.  “He’s getting closer.  When I say fire, make sure you aim and pull the trigger.”  

“Uh-huh,” I gulped.

At that exact moment, my prayer was answered.  Turkey, for no apparent reason, turned and ran in the opposite direction, out of sight.  

“Darn!”  Erv shouted.

“Darn!” I tried to sound genuine.  

“Well, it’s getting late. Want to try again tomorrow?” 

“Hmmm” I mumbled while attempting to pry my frozen fingers off the trigger and lift my numb body from the ground.  As much as I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him, it was time to bring an end to my hunting career.

“This has been an experience,” I started as we headed up the hill toward home.  “I’m thankful we shared this morning hunting together— now I can check turkey hunting off my bucket list.  More turkeys for you, Erv!"  

I heaved my gun up on my shoulder and marched my soggy self back to Erv’s truck in true hunter formation.  You know, I didn’t want to ruin the moment for him.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

(Erv & his beautiful wife, Doris!)

Mimi's Gift

Four days ago we inherited a piece of furniture from our daughter and son-in-law—a rocking chair. 

My husband and I had purchased the rocking chair for them 20 months earlier when our granddaughter, Yetzy, was born. For 20 months I had the utmost privilege of rocking Yetzy to sleep in her rocking chair. The dark sanctuary of her bedroom held no sound except the sound of Mimi singing and the constant “creak, creak, creak” of the chair. 

Yetzy seldom resisted nap time. Instead, she snuggled into my lap with her tattered blanket which at one time had been her mama’s blanket. As she grew older, from time to time she would sing along with me, her voice so sweet and perfectly out of tune. Eventually she was unable to resist the rhythmic rocking of the chair. Peaceful and perfect she slept in my arms knowing that when she awoke, Mimi would still be holding her. For the better part of an hour and a half we rocked. The world outside Yetzy’s bedroom came to a halt during which time my own spirit learned to rest; and during which time I also learned how to receive God’s love like never before through the gift of the little girl snuggled in my arms.

Although no stranger to rocking a baby, having given birth to three beautiful girls, I often allowed the pressures of a young mother to shorten the hours dedicated to the gift of rocking. Now, with experience gleaned from a longer road behind me, I am able to see God’s gift more clearly through eyes blessed with insight (and a plentiful supply of "laugh" lines!).  As a grandmother, what a joy it is to place the world on pause and enjoy what’s happening in the moment in the sacred space of my granddaughter’s bedroom.

My prayer to understand God’s love in a deeper way is answered with each creak of the chair. He shows me His love through Yetzy’s innocent lack of boundaries, through her bountiful kisses and hugs, through her pure joy in the simple moments. All these memories I ponder as I watch her sleep in my arms.

Creak, creak, creak.

His love reaches me through Yetzy’s excitement and sheer delight each time she sees “Mimi and BaBa” (Aka: Grandpa). His love tears down my own walls of self-protection as I watch Yetzy’s ability to love and trust completely—total dependence with no fear. “I should love this way too,” I think to myself. He longs for us to trust Him fully, every detail of our lives entrusted to His care. He will never ignore us, push us away, nor wish we would learn how to live more independent of Him. 

God IS Love. 

Peter reminds us not once, but twice, in the book of I Peter, "Love one another DEEPLY." He doesn't say to just "love one another" but rather to "Love one another DEEPLY." Our children and grandchildren teach us how to love deeply. But we are to love others deeply too—just as Jesus loves each one of us deeply. 

Four days ago our daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter moved from Alaska to the lower 48, thousands of miles away from Mimi and BaBa. Which is why Yetzy’s rocking chair is now in our bedroom. 

Yesterday, I decided to sit in the rocking chair for the first time without Yetzy in my arms. I wondered what it might feel like to rock alone. 

Creak, creak, creak.

There are no adequate words to express the depth of emotion which hit me the second the familiar creak filled the room. My empty arms floundered like a fish out of water, feeling like foreign objects attached to my body. The floodgate of emotions broke.  I wept unashamedly from a heart finally able to understand what loving deeply feels like.  

Grabbing my pillow, I held it with all my strength, feeling sadness permeate every part of my being to the same depth with which I had been able to also feel the love. I knew that God, who loves this little girl more than me (as impossible as that is to imagine!) was now embracing me with every creak of the chair. For an hour and a half  I stayed the course, embracing the sadness. Creak, creak, creak. I sang over Yetzy across the miles.  I prayed like never before for God to wrap His arms around her and to keep her safe in His care during our time of physical separation. Even in the Valley of Sadness I knew I could trust Him. 

But mostly I thanked Him for one of the greatest gifts He has ever given to me and my husband—His beautiful display of love and beauty wrapped in a package, both messy and perfect, marked: “GRANDDAUGHTER.”

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Yesterday or Tomorrow - Choose One

Over the last several months my personal world has been one of many transitions. Transition denotes change, which in turn can incite a desire to hold tightly to what we know is about to be removed from our life.

My husband and I watched a movie together last night which also involved a lot of transitions. The main character in the movie had lost his wife a couple years earlier and was currently living in a “stuck” stage. He was struggling wanting to move forward for fear of losing the memory of what his past held. In essence, he was a walking dead man, paralyzed to the point of total ineffectiveness.

This got me to thinking about life. Every day brings changes we must face whether we feel ready or not.

The only constant anchor we have is the God we serve: He is the same yesterday, today and forever. (Hebrews 13:8).

My inability to comprehend the mystery of an unchanging God does not change God's nature. The truth of God’s Word is never-changing, just like Him.

There remains one thing, however, which we alone must decide: we get to choose if we will surrender our lives and trust God when change happens, or not. Can we trust the God of Yesterday to set us free from all that holds us back; His healing touch ushering us into Tomorrow with strength and wholeness, regardless our circumstances?

Yesterday or Tomorrow—choose one. 

We cannot set up camp at the juncture of Yesterday and Tomorrow. His relentless pursuit of our hearts inhibits us from straddling the line between the past and the future.

Our main character eventually arrived at the same crossroad. 

Either which way the winding road of Yesterday has taken us, one thing is certain—Yesterday always leads us in the opposite direction of Tomorrow. I would know, I have set up camp in Yesterday too many times to mention.

Apostle Paul had a past with many regrets. Before God reached the heart of Paul (known as Saul before his conversion) he held the coats of those who stoned Stephen, the first Christian martyr (Acts 7:57-58). However, Paul didn’t wallow in the sin and regret of yesterday. He repented and was forgiven. His new heart was to know Christ. Paul went on to become a great missionary. He recognized the truth of who he was WITHOUT Christ but chose to live in the truth of who he was WITH Christ, “Not that I have already obtained all this (righteousness that comes from Christ), or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12-14).

Paul grabbed ahold of Tomorrow and let go of Yesterday. He recognized his inability to hold onto both and still fulfill the purposes of God for his life. 

We are no different! Closing yesterday’s door will require taking ahold of that for which Christ Jesus took ahold for us. If healing, ask for healing. If forgiveness, then forgive. If using talents which have been lying dormant, brush yourself off and move forward in the direction of your God-given passions. Do THAT thing which restores joy to your heart, peace to your spirit, and produces a life fully surrendered to the God of our tomorrows. 

Redemption is waiting in the sunrise of Tomorrow. 

Stay the Course…

Sheila

You Are My Hiding Place

(I would like to dedicate this blog to those people in my life, both past and present, who have encouraged me and prayed with me through some dark valleys. Thank you for not giving up on this bedraggled believer. Let's keep fighting for one another so we can cross the finish line together.)

I had an interesting, unexpected revelation last week at the chiropractor’s office, of all places.

After taking X-rays of my neck the doctor reviewed his findings with me and my husband. “It looks like you’ve had severe trauma to your neck—can you tell me what happened?” he asked. I couldn’t think of too many things that had happened but thankfully my husband remembered circumstances from many years ago that might have contributed to my current pain. 

“Oh!” I stated, genuinely surprised to learn that trauma experienced years and years ago could have anything to do with my current situation. As the doctor continued to explain how anything that has ever happened to the physical body, even in childhood, is not forgotten, I felt a nudge in my Spirit. A lightbulb came on as I realized that the same truth spoken by the doctor about my neck was also true about the other areas in my life that were in need of healing. Those unseen areas which, when triggered, continue to cause me great pain.

What a surprise to learn that the parts of our stories which we wish to forget, or to keep hidden, are not forgotten nor hidden from our Father. It’s His desire that we bring to Him the parts of ourselves which have caused us shame, pain, or what we may believe to be irreparable damage. 

He is our Hiding Place. He is our Healer. He has not forgotten our past, He will not abandon us in our present and He will be faithful in our future.

God sees and loves our true selves--He sees both the glory and the grime.The traumas of our past (memories we remember and those we have chosen to forget) are not hidden from our Maker:

 “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.” (Psalm 139:7-12).

If like me, you have always believed that the past is best left in the past—Let me encourage you to take even that thought to your Father in the secret place of your prayer closet. Lay it at His feet—and ask the Spirit to reveal the truths which are hidden in the One who is always Faithful. His kindness and mercy will meet you. He will never forsake you.

As we acknowledge the sins, failures and hurts inflicted upon us by people in our past, He is faithful to strengthen us with a heart to forgive. In the same token we are given opportunity by the Spirit’s gentle prompting to seek forgiveness from God for those whom we have wounded with the sword of our own tongue. 

The Lord comes to us quickly when we set our prayers before Him like incense. 

Jesus, the very name which causes darkness to tremble, will heal the unseen traumas of our past, freeing our spirits so that we can step into the fullness of our adoption as sons and daughters of righteousness.

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” (Psalm 91:4).

Stay the Course…

Sheila

You're So Vain (you probably think this blog is about you!)

The story in II Samuel of Absalom, King David’s third son, is chock-full of valuable life lessons. 

Absalom had some terrific qualities though sadly most of them were external qualities—great looks, a charismatic personality, and beautiful hair to name a few. The book of II Samuel paints a clear picture of this handsome prince, “In all Israel there was not a man so highly praised for his handsome appearance as Absalom. From the top of his head to the sole of his foot there was no blemish in him.” (II Samuel 14:25).

Sounds like the makings of a Hollywood star. 

We are told that Absalom’s hair alone weighed 5 pounds (II Samuel 14:26). Fabio ain’t got nothin’ on Absalom! The magnitude of Absalom’s hair is an important fact when we learn about how he died:

“He was riding his mule, and as the mule went under the thick branches of a large oak, Absalom’s head got caught in the tree. He was left hanging in midair, while the mule he was riding kept on going.” (II Samuel 18:9). While Absalom was dangling from the oak tree by his gorgeous mane King David’s military leader, Joab, “took three javelins in his hand and plunged them into Absalom’s heart while Absalom was still alive in the oak tree.” (II Samuel 18:14).

Unlike his father, Absalom was a self-centered man. He was, well—so vain. Although people loved him, he lacked the inner qualities required to become a great leader such as personal integrity, wisdom, and patience. I guess one could say that instead of seeking after the heart of God, he kept his mane-thing the main thing!

In truth, we are all vain to varying degrees. Our sin nature is constantly competing with our God-given nature. In contrast to his son Absalom, King David sought after the heart of God. He made plenty of mistakes in the moments he took his eyes off of God such as his sin against Bathsheba and her husband Uriah. But through his experiences David chose to live for God and not for self.

Even though Absalom plotted against his father to take away the throne, King David was shaken with the news of Absalom’s death, “He went up to the room over the gateway and wept. As he wept he said: “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you—O Absalom, my son, my son!” (II Samuel 18:33).

King David, no longer in the first season of his life, had gained wisdom and knowledge from his own sins which in turn brought him much success in his latter seasons. His selfless love toward his son is evidence of Kind David’s maturity, character and integrity. David sought hard after the heart of God, the source of his affirmation, his confidence; his everything. 

Absalom’s life is a reminder to us that the antidote to vanity (also defined as “empty pride) is humility. Humility (I am learning) can only be found in one place: on our knees; and in one Person-the character and nature of Jesus. 

In the final seasons of our lives, when our looks have flittered away, our inner beauty should far outshine the beauty and vanity of youth. 

Our true beauty is not hidden from our Father. We have been fearfully and wonderfully made by the One who is to be forever feared and praised. The One whom we find when we seek. The One who cares more about pure hearts and clean hands than tan bodies and long lashes. The One who heals the scars of our past and removes the invisible arrows of shame, regret, heartbreak and betrayal. The One who knows us intricately, beholds us breathlessly, and longs for us desperately. The only One worthy to write a blog about.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Try, Try Again

This morning I started reading through the book of Acts. The book of Acts covers the 30 years after Jesus was taken up into heaven. 

As we recall Jesus’ last days on earth leading up to the book of Acts, we remember one of His disciples, Peter. Peter appears to be a confident man when he tells Jesus, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death” (Luke 22:33). Jesus answers, “I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me” (Luke 22:34).

Sure enough, Peter denies the Lord three times before the rooster crows. Upon hearing the rooster crow, Peter remembered the words of Jesus and he “went outside and wept bitterly” (Luke 22:62).

Imagine the shame and regret Peter must have felt in that moment. 

But he didn’t lay down and give up.

Luke, who recorded the above story, is also the author of the book of Acts. He begins the book of Acts by bringing Peter back into the story. He doesn’t give us a recap to remind us of Peter’s denial of Jesus. It’s as if Peter’s identity is no longer wrapped around his moment of shame and regret—because it’s not! 

When the day of Pentecost came “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them” (Acts 2:4).  There were God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven staying in Jerusalem at this time. They were amazed and perplexed at what they were hearing since they all heard the disciples declaring the wonders of God in their own tongue. 

Guess who stood up, raised his voice, and addressed the crowd? You know it—it was Peter.

He wasn’t in a back room missing out on the promised gift of the Holy Spirit because he felt unworthy due to his earlier betrayal. He was probably MORE able to understand the mystery of the love of Jesus BECAUSE of his betrayal. He was very aware that without Jesus and without the Holy Spirit, he had nothing to offer. He was also able to recognize that WITH the Holy Spirit he could do great things for God.

In real life, we experience times of failure. Times when we don’t represent our Lord as we ought to. It’s when we acknowledge our sins and failures and weep bitter tears of repentance that we are restored and strengthened by the One who never fails. Our gracious Father doesn’t rub our noses in our failures but rather uses them to grow us more into the likeness and character of His Son.

Peter went on to reach many people for the Kingdom of God. He suffered and lived his life fully devoted to the works of his Lord. I’m sure he failed again and again in his humanity but he never gave up. His final breath was one of a martyr who had given ALL for his Lord.

Many have not yet heard the Good News. There is no time to waste sitting in our self imposed prisons of shame and regret. This same Holy Spirit that was promised to the disciples is also promised to each one of us.  “Peter replied, ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.  And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The promise is for you and your children and for all who are far off—for all whom the Lord our God will call'” (Acts 2:38 & 39).

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Git Yer Feet Wet

A few days ago my husband and I took a spontaneous trip to Seward Alaska. Not being fisher-type folks, we had no idea that our timing and our camping spot would land us smack dab in the middle of hundreds of silver salmon that were being caught with snag hooks from shore by dozens of people. 

Combat fishing at its best.

I had an instantaneous personality change as I stepped out of the camper the next morning and saw people catching fish all up and down the shoreline. “Wake up, Babe!” I shouted as I peaked my head back inside the camper. “People are catching fish—get down there and get me some fish!” At first he thought I was kidding. Especially since we knew nothing about catching fish. 

Eventually we gathered up the recommended necessary gear and made our way to the shoreline. 

After a long stretch with no fish, an old man approached me. I was sitting on a rock taking in all the sights in this strange new world of fish madness we had entered. “Great day, isn’t it?” he asked. “Yes, it would be even greater if my husband caught me a fish!” I jokingly replied. 

“Want my fish? I don’t need it.”

“Umm…ok.” I slowly replied, not sure if he was serious. “Well, reach down there and git him off my line and put him on your string.” he stated very matter-of-fact. Simple enough except that it required touching a fish, and putting string through a still somewhat-alive fishes mouth with what looked like sharp little teeth in it. I was more afraid of the old man than I was of the fish so I did what he told me to do.

Later that afternoon the old man appeared again. “Hey, aren’t you the lady that I gave a fish to this morning?”  “Yes I am.” I replied somehow knowing that he wasn’t going to continue walking down the shore.

“Tell you what” he stated “how about I hook ‘em and you reel ‘em in? I don’t need any more fish and it looks like you do.” Before I could convince him that I was happy taking in the experience from my perch on the rock, he had walked through about 10 feet of water to cast his rod on the other side of me atop a rock. I held my breath hoping he would become so engrossed with fishing that he would forget about me. Only a moment passed when he yelled above the crowd, “Hey Lady! Git over here and reel this fish in!” All eyes turned to see who the old man was yelling at. 

I stood in my dry shoes staring at the water I would need to walk through to reach the old man and his fishing rod, which by all appearances had a fish attached to it. “Git yer feet wet and git over here. Hurry up!” He seemed oblivious to the fact that dozens of onlookers were being amused by his blunt command.

A group of women laughed as me and my wet feet ran past them to grab the reel from the old man’s hands. 

When we had caught our limit, he taught us how to fillet the fish at the cleaning station. Exhausted and cold (thanks to the wet feet) I thought we were saying a final goodbye when he stated that he would be down at the shore around 8:00 the next morning and would look for us there.

Sure enough the old man was back in the morning. A string of snot dripping off his nose from the brisk morning wind. He wouldn’t let me relax on my rock, but was determined to turn me into a fisherwoman. I told him very firmly that I wasn’t going to get my feet wet this time around. He pretended not to hear me. 

Somewhere along the way, I’m not sure when it happened, I realized I was having more fun than I had remembered having in a long time. I thought about absolutely nothing except fish. The cantankerous old man and I learned how to work very well together.  Mostly because I did whatever he told me to do. The seasoned fisherman knew a thing or two about ruling over the fish of the sea. I learned that his life had not been an easy one yet his face radiated with each cast of the rod into the ocean. His eyes sparkled even when his mind forgot where he had last placed his rod.

I hesitated leaving behind my new world of fishing, the ocean, the old fisherman with the drippy nose, the amazing people we met along the shoreline, and the beauty of nature. Our spontaneous trip gave me new insights and new appreciation for both man who is made in God’s likeness and man’s ability and gift from God to rule over the fish of the sea and everything else He created.

Just as we gleaned from the old man how to be a fisher of fish, God’s Word teaches us how to be fishers of men. Eternity is at stake. We can all do our part, as we put ourselves out there, to share of His goodness to those within our reach. We don’t have to be well-groomed evangelists, or preachers. We don’t even need to go anywhere. 

We simply need to get off our secure rocks and point people to the One True Rock.  Our unique individual personalities allows each one of us to reach the lost—those who know nothing about our God— if we are willing to share what we know. Even if we only know a little.

Now git out there, git yer feet wet, and start acting like the true fisher-person you were created to be!

Genesis 1:26 “Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Here is My Servant

As a woman who has been a part of churches most of my life, I have spent a great deal of time over the last decade asking God, “What is church supposed to look like?” “What am I missing?” 

I can’t seem to dig deep enough to perform in any capacity within the four walls.

What once felt “right” hasn’t felt right for a very long time. In a nutshell, my stage presence has gone from the girl spinning plates center stage— to zero stage presence.

Thank goodness.

Being raised under a roof where the unspoken mantra was “those who don’t work don’t eat,” it has been difficult trying to acclimate into church without wearing my performance garb. It’s like a chocoholic who finally reaches the breaking point of no longer being able to tolerate even the sight of chocolate. My performance addiction has led me to seeking God like never before for answers on how to BE the body of Christ—His church.

Yesterday I read about Jesus washing His disciple’s feet. I’ve read this scripture in John dozens of times (Jn. 13:12-17). When He finished washing their feet He asked them, “Do you understand what I have done for you?”

He continues, “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” (vs. 13-17)

We are reminded in Matthew 20:28, “The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” And in Phil 2:6-7 we read: “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant.”

In a prophecy spoken through the prophet Isaiah, God shares both the identity and the mission of His Son, “Here is my servant whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will proclaim justice to the nations.” (Mt. 12:18)

Performance is not now, nor has it ever been, what our Father is asking from us. Neither within or outside of the church walls. Instead, He is asking us to follow the example of Jesus by living a life poured out in service to Him.

When Saul gets knocked to the ground on the road to Damascus the Lord says to him, “Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant…” (Acts 26:16)

Interesting to note in later scriptures how Paul describes himself when addressing different audiences, “I, Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus.” (Rom. 1:1) Paul understood something very counter-cultural even in his day—there is no greater honor than to be considered a servant of Christ. 

Paul’s desire to live as a servant of Christ is evident not only in word but in how he lived his life no longer for himself but for Christ: “Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ.” (Gal. 1:10)

Being a healthy, functioning servant within the walls of a church does not require us to perform. We are not trying to please men. Instead, we are called to serve God and to serve one another with a heart of humility in lieu of a to-do list of impressive performances.

With this new revelation permeating my own heart; my desire to serve both within the church as well as in my community has never been greater. We don’t need to dig deep within our own selves to find motivation—we just need to open the Word and follow the example of Christ.

Therefore, as servants of Christ: “Now that we know these things we will be blessed if we do them!”

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Let Incense Arise

A week ago after Sunday church service, my husband and I drove to Anchorage and took a walk along the inlet.

I don’t know why it’s easier to be completely honest when walking alongside a person rather than sitting across from him or her. Perhaps it’s the lack of eye contact or the beauty of God’s creation surrounding every breath. Either way, I had an honest moment.

“I haven’t opened my Bible in weeks.” I confessed. “Summer has been so busy, and working long days in real estate has taken a toll on me.” Before he could speak I kept going, probably trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince my husband, all the reasons why I felt so far away from God.

When I stopped talking, my husband did something that he does often—using as few words as necessary, he simply stated, “God hasn’t stepped away from you. Draw near to Him and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8)

Duh.

Everybody knows that.

For a girl who has always felt that acceptance is connected and interwoven with performance, the thought of simply entering the throne of grace with nothing impressive to show for myself—well, I wasn’t sure if I could break through the good girl performance barrier. In my head I knew that my husband was right; but my heart  couldn’t grasp the simplicity of his statement. 

I pondered our conversation.

Yesterday I met with a trusted friend. We sat in my jeep in the rain and prayed together. The presence of the Spirit permeated the jeep reaching into my heart and into the recesses of my soul. 

I did not deserve to be met in such an intimate way; I had done NOTHING to earn the audience of my Father. So I simply surrendered and rested in His presence. Peace replaced confusion. Love replaced fear. Acceptance replaced doubt. 

Who can fathom the depths of His love?  (Eph. 3:16-19)

Sometime during the night I had a dream. In the dream I was still at the feet of the throne. Over and over I sang part of a worship song called Worthy of It All, “Day and night, night and day, let incense arise. Day and night, night and day let incense arise.” 

When I awoke from the dream, my heart was still singing this song in worship. All day, through meetings and appointments, the song is playing within me even while I am functioning in the world around me.

Our prayers, like incense, rise from our hearts to the heavens as a sweet aroma to our Father. Day and night, night and day. Even as we sleep, our prayers…rising like incense. 

He never sleeps nor slumbers (Psalm 121:2). 

His eyes are ever watching —ever beholding each one of us. Even when we have nothing but our bedraggled selves to bring before His presence; He runs to welcome us—His beloved.

The sweet aroma of our prayers brings a smile to His face and joy to His heart. 

We don’t have to understand; we simply need to believe.

“May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.” (Psalm 41:2)

Stay the Course…

Sheila