El Roi

In the 16th Chapter of the first book of the Bible, Genesis, we meet an Egyptian maidservant named Hagar.

Unlike many of the big names in the Bible, Hagar's name might go unnoticed, yet she has quite a story to tell.

Abram (later known as Abraham) had received the promise of a child from God but as an old man already, the passage of time lent to Abram and Sarai's (later known as Sarah) decision to take matters into their own hands. Sarai told Abram to lie with her maidservant so that they could build a family through her, and so he did.

When Hagar became pregnant, she grew resentful toward Sarai. 

After Sarai mistreated her, she decided to run away. I'm not sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or a sudden lack of reality that gave Hagar the boldness to run away all by herself to the middle of nowhere, but run she did.

What happens next, in my opinion, is the best part of our story. 

At a time in Hagar's life when Hagar felt completely and utterly alone, an angel of the Lord found her. I could tell you what the angel of the Lord said to Hagar, but that is not nearly as important as the fact that when Hagar had no one to turn to and nowhere to run to, God saw her.

After Hagar and the Angel of the Lord spoke with one another, Hagar gives this name to the Lord, "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." (Genesis 16:13). 

Another name for the God who Sees me is El Roi.

This same God who saw Hagar also sees us. When we feel knocked down, alone and forgotten it's imperative that we run to God instead of running away from our circumstances. We must face the lies Satan is hurling at us head-on.

In Psalm 139 (vs. 1-12), David describes El Roi perfectly and beautifully:

"You have searched me and you know me. 
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; 
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue 
you know it completely,
O Lord.

You hem me in--behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 
too lofty for me to attain.
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."

If you are going through a season of feeling alone, forgotten, or unseen--I pray the God Who Sees will speak to your heart and flood you with the knowledge of His presence. 

Whether on the far side of the sea or in the depths He will never leave you nor forsake you.

The God Who Sees hears our prayers, comforts our spirits, and draws us gently into His loving embrace. 

His love never fails.

Stay the Course...

Sheila 

His Grace Is Sufficient

I used to be known as a die-hard New Year’s Goal Chic. I drove my friends crazy asking them what their 1 year, 3 year and 5- year goals were. Suffice it to say, we didn’t get invited to many New Year’s Eve parties!

Thankfully, somewhere in the midst of checking off goals and striving toward dreams, REAL life happened.

I will admit that it has taken a lot of years and many dark nights of the soul to recognize that God’s greatest gifts are best unwrapped in the solitude and darkness found in the valley.

More recently I spent some time in a dark valley of physical sickness. After several nights of no sleep, I became angry at my inability to feel productive. I finally realized that God needed my attention. Not for His benefit; but for mine.

“What do I need to learn that I’m clearly missing?!” I whispered angrily to Him after another long miserable night of no sleep (the sleep-deprived me is not the best version of me!). I was at the end of myself. He had my full attention.

Reflecting on my life, I saw the parallel of my striving to trust Him juxtaposed with my attempting to be self-sufficient. I realized that the ongoing tug-o-war between self-sufficiency and trusting Jehovah Jireh is a futile game of coming to the end of one’s self.

In II Corinthians Paul shares of his own afflictions. Afflictions which he pleaded with God three times to take away from him. He speaks about the thorn in his flesh, a messenger from Satan, sent to torment him.

God both heard and answered Paul’s prayer. God’s answer may not have been the answer Paul had hoped it would be. God said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Cor. 12:9). This verse refers to God as El Shaddai: The All-Sufficient One.

Only the Holy Spirit can repair and heal the areas of our lives that lack what is necessary to trust God fully. Our weaknesses allow Christ’s power to rest in us.

Jesus never lived a life chock full with New Year’s goals —because He did not live His life for Himself. His only goal was obedience to His Father.

Worldly goals are vain and empty. Living for oneself is not suggested ONE time as an option in the Word of God. An empowered man or woman is not one who strives to make something of his or her life because they are worth it. Rather, an empowered man or woman is one who makes nothing of his or her life. An empowered man or woman is one who recognizes his or her success lies in the knowledge that Christ’s power is most recognizable in one's weaknesses. 

It is a person who is able to recognize that everything we accomplish, every breath we spend, every gift we have been given is because of His grace and because HE and HE alone is worthy. Our only goal should be the same as Jesus—to live in obedience to the Father and do whatever HE asks us to do—for HIS glory, not our own.

So, no goals for this writer this year except to spend more time getting to know my Father and to gain a deeper understanding of His sufficient grace. A grace that annihilates the fear of failure and the need to be self-sufficient. A grace which reflects His perfect power not in spite of my weaknesses but because of my weaknesses. A grace which I am hoping will help me loosen my grip on the rope in the futile game of tug-o-war as I daily learn to trust Him more.

Oh for grace to trust Him more. 

Stay the Course...

Sheila

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Psalm 91: 1& 2 

Caged Lion

(I wrote this blog 7 years ago and remembered it again after reading Francis Chan's newest book: Letters To The Church, where he speaks about us being caged lions. I believe I am not alone in my desire to break the patterns and thinking of society, both inside and outside of the church walls, so that each person can be uninhibited in becoming the person they were created to be in Christ.)

Wildly he paces back and forth on the worn path of his confined environment. He has room to move and stretch; but no room to do what he was created to do-- run. Time has fatigued his spirit, though memories of freedom often revisit him as he restlessly slumbers.

Passers-by stop at his man-made habitat, beholding his beauty, admiring his strength and size. Although he appears to be tame and broken; he is not. He cannot conform to the small cage and tasteless food for he knows that his identity lies beyond the boundaries of his closterphobic environment.

He attempts to rest beneath the shade of a tree amidst the clamor and commotion of the crowd. Cameras flash, shouts and whistles penetrate his space. His spirit fights within to not lash out. Though caged, he is fully able to scare even the bravest onlooker. However, the full wrath of his fury cannot be unleashed. Instead, turning his slouched body against the crowd, his sad eyes drop from view.

He remembers days of past when both his legs and his spirit thundered across the rolling plains; days when he was surrounded by those who knew him intimately. Respected within his pride, freedom was the aroma that surrounded his every breath. Fully alive, fully unleashed, fully living in the potential he was created to reach.  

Dying at the jaws of an enemy would be a welcome death compared to that of his spirit dying within him. The very essence of who he was born to be slowly fades as the daily demands of his new world rape him of his identity. Although his physical needs are met, the despair and loneliness in his chest ache beyond his ability to understand. He lies listless in the afternoon sun, waiting for nothing.

I am that caged lion; sad eyes, slouched shoulders. The world closes in, suffocating my spirit, begging me to match that which I was not created to match. I pace back and forth, restless and angry. I am a foreigner in a foreign land. Sleepless nights meet me. I question my Maker as to the true purpose of my existence. He looks at me and sees me as who He created to me be; but I am unable to see past my encaged environment.

I am unable to conform to my environment, unwilling to settle for complacency, uninterested in pretension, and unbelievably restless; an angry, pacing lion.  

I pray for humility. However, I also pray for boldness and courage to stay true to my God-created identity. I will not shrink back nor cower; for I and the lion are kindred-- both created to run wildly in total abandon, leaving behind no regrets. unleashing the spirit within and breaking free from the confines of our cages.  

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote

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