Angela Baughman's Blog, page 37

God Stays Faithful When Life Gets Complicated

This post is chapter 4/5 in a series on women in the family tree of Jesus.

I have been a piano mom for twelve years. Twelve years of sitting at lessons, taking notes, and overseeing practice time at home. I don’t expect either of my boys will ever make a living playing piano, but I do know our whole family has learned valuable life applications through their studying music. And, for me, one of the most significant epiphanies I have experienced is realizing that we can master complicated pieces, or situations, by breaking them down into manageable steps.

Over the years, I can recall countless times our piano teacher would assign a new piece of music that was more difficult than anything one of the boys had played before. Initially, a look of concern would be written all over his face. The notes, the key changes, and the dynamics were overwhelming when they looked at the whole thing for the first time. But then, one weekly lesson at a time, she would break the complicated piece down in smaller sections until their fingers understood how to put it all together.

Bathsheba’s story is full of complications. Though married to another, she caught the eye of King David and became pregnant by him. David then plotted to have her husband killed and married her. She gave birth to their son, who died from an illness. Years later, she advocated for another of their sons, Solomon, to take the throne. As she used her influence over Kind David to see Solomon promoted to king, she was once again right in the middle of a whole different set of complications.

I don’t know about you, but complications wear me out. I tend to keep my distance from circumstances that feel tangled and messy. It takes a lot of my resources to keep myself untangled, and I get nervous about being involved in someone else’s tricky situations. But as intentional as you or I try to be about avoiding complications, ours or someone else’s, complications will inevitably find us.

And when they do, Bathsheba’s story gives me hope. God used her complicated circumstances. Through Bathsheba, God raised up Solomon as a wise leader for Israel. He oversaw the construction of the first temple. And we still read truths in Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, and the Song of Songs – books in our Bible that are attributed to Solomon.

God’s faithfulness in complicated situations unfolds like the learning of a challenging piece of music. What seems overwhelming at first can be accomplished when we take things one step at a time. We can walk in God’s dependable instruction. We can choose to trust that He will, in the words of Solomon, make all things beautiful in His time (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

Complications aren’t fun, but they can birth important growth for us. God brings forth great things from tangled messes. And as He straightens out the path before us, He will teach us more about His heart, how much He loves us, and how trustworthy His plans for us are.

Peace.

Bathsheba’s story can be read in 2 Samuel 11-12 and 1 Kings 1-2

Little Pieces Of Me Put Back Together

When I was a girl, I had a collection of blown glass figurines. The sentimental attachment to these treasures began when I was about five years old in a small tourist shop in Branson, Missouri. I still remember when I was allowed to pick out a glass bear about two inches tall with a blue belly and ears. After that, whenever my family went on a little adventure, I would often return home with a glass blown animal or flower to add to my collection.

I don’t recall the details around how it happened, but I do remember returning home from school one afternoon to learn that somehow much of the collection had been destroyed. I had acquired a flat oval mirror upon which I carefully arranged my glass items. The mirror had fallen off my dresser, the figurines on top of the mirror had tumbled to the floor, and then the mirror had landed on top of the fragile items. The only thing that could be done had been done. The colorful glass fragments had been cleaned up and thrown away.

I know I am not alone in feeling like there have been several times that my heart or even my entire life has felt like that blown glass collection. Broken beyond repair. Ready for the trash. The beauty nothing more than a memory. No plan could be wise enough to believe there was any possibility of restoration.

I find hope in the story of Ruth for situations like this. In Ruth’s life, we have an example of what God can do when our plans are shattered beyond repair. Ruth’s former life was but a distant memory. Her husband was dead, her home was far away, and her security had all but vanished. Navigating the new life she found herself in must have seemed something like attempting to find and put back together the pieces of my original blue bear in a pile of broken glass figurines.

But she had one important thing going for her. She believed in and honored God. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, worked hard, trusted in His provision for her, and dedicated herself to Him fully. Friends, faith in God is the difference between something broken that has to be swept up and thrown away and something that can be put back together in a way that brings more beauty even than the original form.

In the places of our lives that seem like they are too broken, too far in the past,  too messy, and filled with too many wrong turns, I encourage us to take a fresh look at Ruth’s story. Her decisions can serve as an example to us. When we are sitting in a situation that looks like nothing we thought it would, we still have choices. We can stay faithful. We can continue to walk in His ways. We can choose Him every day. And we can put our trust in Him and believe that He is working to reveal His redemptive plan in us.

Peace.

Read the story of Ruth in Ruth 1-4

Safety Of Rules, Risk Of Obedience

At first glance, it may seem like Rahab and I have little in common. I grew up in church, have lived a fairly approvable lifestyle, and for the most part, follow the rules. What we know of Rahab indicates quite the opposite. Her people worshiped idols, she was a prostitute, and she cut ethical corners when she felt it was necessary. Even so, I love Rahab. She trusted her instincts, believed in the faithfulness of God, and acted on that belief.

I am in a place of internal tension right now with the universal church. For the most part, I have always focused on the good things about the church. The church gives us much to celebrate. But over the past few years, as my relationship with Jesus has grown stronger, my eyes have been opened to how far the church can stray from the example of love and truth Jesus was and is to His followers.

So I am in a season of questioning. Why do we, the church, do things the way we do them? Why the emphasis on property and facilities? Why the drive for programs and attendance? Why the requirements of denominational ordination and education? What drives us to cling tightly to rules and committees while too often neglecting our personal Bible study and intimacy with Christ?

The local church has been a constant in my life. Because I grew up in ministry and chose ministry as my work, I have been an active part of over twenty churches and preached in dozens more. There are so many things I love about churches. I love the smell of old buildings, singing hymns, and celebrating the seasons of the Christian calendar. I love praise bands and raising my hands in worship. I love preaching and rituals. I love praying at altar rails. I love the rustling of pages when people are looking for verses of scripture in their Bibles. I love the low roar of conversation during the passing of the peace. I love sitting in an empty sanctuary and hearing the silence that calls me to open my heart to God.

But something is changing inside me. The universal church, a place where I once felt accepted and celebrated has more recently felt like a place of disapproval. I was told some months ago by a person of church authority that there was no place for my ministry or leadership within their denomination. Another person in leadership said she questioned my relationship with God. Why?

Because, perhaps like Rahab, I am finding within me the courage to follow God regardless of how that is different from the traditions I had previously followed. I stumbled on this path accidentally. I recognized the risk I was taking only after I had already taken it. But I am grateful it is working out the way it is. Otherwise, I likely would have convinced myself to apologize and retreat. Instead, I am discovering a deeper connection with Who I worship and realizing in a new way that He is not restricted to a building, a denomination, or a statement of belief.

I do not doubt at times Rahab questioned her decision to take steps on the path she walked. I have questioned myself, too, as I continue to serve in pastoral ministry without the security of a denomination’s blessing. However, what I know is greater than what I feel. And I know obedience is honorable.

Peace.

(Read the story of Rahab in Joshua 2.)

God Works In All Kinds of Messes

The story of Judah and Tamar is a complicated mess. We find evidence of all kinds of poor decisions from both of them. To start, Judah made an unwise choice in a wife for his oldest son by selecting Tamar, who was a Canaanite woman. Marriage to Canaanites had been discouraged because their culture was corrupting Jewish culture.

When Judah’s oldest son died, his next son married Tamar in observance of their custom. If a man died before providing a son to his wife, it was the duty of his brothers to marry her and give her a son. However, Judah’s second son also died without producing a son with Tamar. After losing two sons who were married to Tamar, Judah decided not to allow his third son to marry her. Instead, Tamar was sent back home to live as a widow.

Judah told Tamar that he would send for her when his youngest son was grown and ready to marry. However, Judah had no intention of allowing Tamar to marry this son. Judah’s decision was both selfish and deceptive because caring for Tamar was Judah’s responsibility. She was not allowed to make her own decision to marry another man. She was under Judah’s household. Judah determined when and whom she could marry, and she had to wait on him.

I admire Tamar’s assertiveness and creativity in her next move. Tamar learned Judah would be going to his sheepshearers, and she posed as a prostitute along the path he traveled. Judah, believing Tamar to be a prostitute soliciting customers, hired her service. Tamar wisely hung onto a couple of Judah’s personal items for proof of their encounter.

When word got to Judah that Tamar was pregnant by prostitution, he was outraged and gave orders to have her burned to death as punishment. However, Tamar produced those personal items of Judah’s, and he realized that the twins Tamar was carrying were, in fact, his own.

The entire story is tragic to me. I think about the limited options Tamar had. I think of rejection, isolation, and shame. I think of the way Tamar was cast off as worthless and how Judah must have tried to forget about her. I think of what she must have been feeling, longing to be vindicated, dressed as a prostitute, and wondering if her plan would work.

But for me, the most intriguing part of the whole story is found in the redemptive promise when we fast forward to the book of Matthew. Matthew 1:3 says, “Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar.” In this chapter, Matthew is writing to his audience about the family tree of Jesus Christ. God used the poor decisions and wrong turns of this pair in the fulfillment of our Messiah.

We have all made poor decisions. Even right now, most of us are living with the consequences of the poor decisions we and others have made. There have been times in my life when I believed those poor decisions defined me, controlled me, and covered me. But we are more than the results of poor decisions. We are also instruments in the hands of a loving, gracious God who can and does use complicated messes for His work on earth. Friend, however messy your mess; it isn’t more than God can dwell in and redeem. When God is involved, messes will still produce blessing.

Peace.

I Can Choose Praise Even When I’m Hurting

I’m in a turbulent season with my teenager. It was an uncomfortably typical rough morning, and once again he left for school without saying goodbye. My heart was heavy, and the temptation to worry and feel sorry for myself was present.

I had been texting that morning with three different friends about things unrelated. Amid my circumstances, I became acutely aware that on the phone I held in the palm of my hand was the reminder of three relationships. Three extraordinary women who are dear to me and their presence was tangible in my pain even when they didn’t know I was struggling.

When my emotions gave way to tears on my bedroom floor, I felt the small arms of my younger child wrap around me. He sat beside me and tried to comfort me because I was sad. The embrace outlasted my tears, and I thanked him. There was a tenderness in his presence that isn’t often evident between the two of us, and I recognized the significance of the moment.

When the house was quiet, and I sat with a cup of hot tea and my Bible, I found myself in verses from 1 Thessalonians that called me beloved and reminded me that there is no need to wander in Spiritual darkness because I am a child of the Light. It reminded me to be who I am. I have a security of salvation that cannot be shaken or moved, and I can stand firm on that truth.

Psalm 100 tells us to shout joyfully to the Lord. To stand in His presence with joyful singing. To recognize Him with gratitude. To enter His gates with thanksgiving. It calls us to be thankful and to bless and praise His name. Why should we do all this? The Psalmist answers our question by saying because He is good. His mercy and lovingkindness are everlasting. His faithfulness endures.

That morning, though my heart grieved this place where I am with someone I love, I claimed the hope and victory that is mine to cling to as a believer. Jesus will not fail me. Though I do not know how this will all work out, I do know that God loves me. He loves my child. He sees the struggle. He is at work. And I will praise Him for that.

I will shout for joy for the women whose love came through my phone. I will shout for joy for the young arms that wrapped around me. I will shout for joy for His Word that infuses me with confidence and security. I will recognize Him with gratitude. And I will do my best in my role as mother without trying to take over His role as God.

Habakkuk 3:17-18 holds these powerful words, “Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, though the yield of the olive fails and the fields produce no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls, yet I will [choose to] rejoice in the Lord; I will [choose to] shout in exultation in the [victorious] God of my salvation!” (AMP)

It is our choice. There are always barren fields and empty stalls to look at if we want to. But there is also always a reason to shout for joy over the faithful Father we follow.

Peace.

To Know Him Is To Love

There is a children’s praise chorus called, “Beloved (1 John 4:7 &8) with which I have an ongoing love/hate relationship. Quite frankly, the song annoys me. We used to sing it on a praise team I was a member of, and every time it appeared in the song rotation, I inwardly cringed and possibly even outwardly rolled my eyes. I find the music so, dare I say it, perfectly uninteresting. That fact, together with the repetition of precious few lyrics, leaves me musically wanting.

But the song does relay a strikingly powerful message. Which is where the love part of my relationship with the chorus arises. The song is taken directly from 1 John 4:7 & 8, thus the subtitle of the chorus. These verses declare important declarations and challenges. Please don’t give in to the temptation to skim through this part, friend. The words are essential for those of us who declare ourselves Jesus followers.

Quoting from the Amplified Bible, John writes, “Beloved, let us [unselfishly] love and seek the best for one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves [others] is born of God and knows God [through personal experience]. The one who does not love has not become acquainted with God [does not and never did know Him], for God is love. [He is the originator of love, and it is an enduring attribute of His nature.]”

The song that is, to me, not much of a song in terms of what it offers musically, does without argument point me to a few non-negotiables in a Spiritual walk that is mature. First, love is unselfish. Ouch. Second, unselfishly loving others is an outward, tangible sign of whether or not we know God through personal experience. If we know Him, we love others. Ouch again. Finally, the reverse is also true. John says the person who does not unselfishly love others does not now nor ever did know the heart of our Creator, the place from which all love originates.

Which brings me to that all-important question we must ask ourselves when we pause on a few words of scripture. So, what? What does that mean for me today as I go through my life and tend to my responsibilities? It means my decisions make declarations about my relationship with Jesus. If my life demonstrates unselfish love towards others, I know Jesus. And if it does not, I do not know Him now and never have.

Of course, we are all a work in progress. We come to know Jesus over time. Without question, I know Him better today than I did last month or last year. I will continue to know Him better as time passes. And knowing Him more will be apparent to others because my behavior will be more loving. The two things go hand in hand. To know Jesus more means to love others more.

Peace.

 

Finding Joy Where We Look For It

For several weeks, I had been living in an upside-down world. Medical equipment filled my home, people rotated shifts to help provide care for my family and me, and food appeared from friends, acquaintances, and strangers who were all doing what they could to help with our most basic needs.

Mostly, I observed. I watched and waited. I watched as others ran my home. I watched as people came to take care of my children. I waited to be moved from wheelchair to bed. I waited to be served food. I waited to be escorted to the bathroom.

In that place of observation, I heard an invitation from God. A verse that was familiar to me was planted firmly in my heart and would not budge no matter how I tried to push it away. Psalm 118:24 says, “This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Initially, I was not amused by the reminder, for I felt I had very little in which to rejoice.

Ah, but God is persistent, and the verse would not budge. He began to lay other verses on my heart like Psalm 30:5 which says, “Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.” And Philippians 4:4, “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say, rejoice!” I argued with a “whatever, God” kind of attitude. At that point, I didn’t wash myself or cut up my own food. These were not days for rejoicing.

Ah, but God is persistent. He continually invited me to lay down my anger and fear. He perpetually reminded me of His faithfulness in all circumstances. He relentlessly provided for me tender moments that held kindness of others who were ministering to me in His name. His love was all around me. And after a while, it penetrated my stubborn, resistant heart.

In that season, I began my journey of learning about joy. And while I still have much to discover, here is what I know for sure to be true. Joy is possible every day all the time. Joy is available without fail to us who claim Jesus as Lord and Savior. Joy is ours for the taking. But joy is not forced upon us. God offers us joy, but we must choose to accept it.

We have two options when we are up against a mountain of what I call un-joy. We can focus on our circumstances. They are real. They are painful. They are uncomfortable. Focusing on them is an incredibly easy thing to do, and there are always others around who will cheer us on in our circumstantial focus and help us justify that choice.

Or we can choose to hold tight to the unchangeable truth that we have salvation in Jesus. That whatever trouble and sorrow we may face in this world, it is not bigger than Jesus. It does not negate His love for us, His faithfulness to us, nor His work in and through us. Nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus, says Paul in the book of Romans, and we can choose to walk in the joy of that truth. We can choose to look for Him in our everyday experiences. We can hear Him in a song, see Him on the face of a loved one, feel Him in memories, experience Him in nature. Or we can choose to look away, ignore it, and press on in our negative emotions.

When I realized my choice during my time of physical limitations, I began to do a little exercise. Every day, I would think of one good thing that happened. I would speak it out loud. Today I brushed my own teeth. Today they brought my baby to me. Today I sat outside. And when my heart was sad, and I began to feel sorry for myself, I would remember the verses about joy, and I would connect those verses to the thing I had in my day where God revealed Himself to be present. Eventually, those “one things” turned my heart back around, and instead of focusing only on myself, I could experience the One who is the source of joy.

Peace.

The Long Road That Led To Peace

I have a good friend who is related to the 1980s teen pop icon, Tiffany. Tiffany is probably best known for her 1987 cover of the song, “I Think We’re Alone Now,” Some of her other chart hits include “Could’ve Been,” “I Saw Him Standing There,” and my personal favorite, “All This Time.”

Tiffany and her band are currently out on tour, and they recently performed in a town near to ours. Knowing my love of 1980s pop music and the fascination my teenage self held for the artist, my friend invited me to join her for the concert. Along with some of my friend’s extended family, we attended the show and visited with the star backstage both before and after the event.

As the family caught up and swapped stories, I watched and listened. They helped each other connect branches of the family tree. They updated each other on health concerns, births, deaths, and relationships that had ended. Someone had brought an old photo album of a family anniversary party, and they looked at themselves in younger years and reminisced.

Eventually, the conversation focused on Tiffany. They asked questions about her immediate family and her career. She shared about the music business and the trials of the path she had walked. She talked a bit about what it was like to be on the road, write, record, and perform at this time in her life. She spoke of the ups and downs, successes and failures, joys and sorrows.

What struck me the most as I listened to her was her confidence in where she is now. She’s not the 1980s teen pop star anymore. She is an overcomer. And while she still sings a few of the fan favorites from her earlier career, her show now is largely a rock concert that features songs she has written herself or collaborated with a team to write. The show is her. It is who she is now. It reflects both where she has been and where she is going. The work is hard. But Tiffany is making her way. And as an outsider looking in, I felt she was a person at peace with herself and her choices. And somehow I understood that her story was my story, too.

The Spiritual fruit of peace is about being unafraid because we are assured of our salvation through Jesus. We know salvation is ours; therefore, everything else dims in the light of that truth. Trouble may come, yes. Conflict may arise, yes. But we stand firm on the unshakeable foundation that is beneath us – the knowing of who we are and Whose we are. We are immovable because of His love poured into our lives, and therefore we are at peace.

In John 14, Jesus tells us He leaves us His peace. But He doesn’t force it on us. He invites us to receive it. His peace is ours for the taking — mine and yours. When we are frantically trying to calm our emotions through worldly avenues or resources, we will be left wanting because we will not find peace there. We will find it from within when we remember what we know. His grace has saved us, and nothing can change that. Nothing.

Like Tiffany, my road to peace has been full of twists and turns. If I knew her better and could have asked her, I would bet she would tell me she hasn’t arrived yet. I know I haven’t. But as I connected with this woman who had walked through hills and valleys and was finally standing on a more solid foundation, I was reminded of the stability under my own feet. It is on Him I will stand, and in Him I will trust. On Him I will call, and by Him I will walk. Wherever I journey and whatever I encounter, nothing can shake what I have found in Him. He is my end of the road. He is all I need.

Peace.

I Don’t Have Time To Learn Patience

I know I am not alone in my affection for quick resolutions. Not many of us appreciate a journey that leads to an unknown destination. Waiting for the end of a story to unfold is uncomfortable because we are painfully aware that despite our deepest longings and most determined efforts, we are not able to control the outcome. But whether we like it or not, waiting is a part of life. And it is most definitely a part of maturing as a Christian.

I was in Chicago recently for a conference that was, for the most part, a positive experience. But the instruction I received has left me with a relentless question about the way I deliver my spoken message. If I accept the direction given to me, it would mean a huge shift in how I both prepare and present. If I ignore the advice in my desire to free myself from the tension of uncertainty, I know I will miss something that God has for me to learn.

I’ve done a lot of thinking, praying, and talking about the issue. I have sought advice from close friends and also acquaintances in ministry who are further along in their content development. The opinions are as varied as their personalities. It appears there are no quick answers to this pressing question of mine.

So I wait. And while I wait, I hear God’s gentle whisper like rain on my soul. He reminds me that this is a process. He encourages me through His Word. God opened doors for me to go to Chicago, attend this conference, and receive this counsel. God is serious about bringing growth into my life. But it’s going to take some time for me to understand what it all means and how best to receive it.

While I seek clarity around this, I have choices. I can find reasons to discredit the advice or justify my own decisions. I can rally troops to support me so that I am comfortable and satisfied with my current strategy. I could even decide that I am ineffective and stop trying to strengthen the skills with which God has blessed me. Or I can be patient, let Him work, and learn what He wants to teach me through this experience.

The Spiritual fruit of patience is more than waiting. It is evidence of being able to wait well. It is about waiting forwardly in the expectation that God is at work and will reveal His message to us in the timeframe He knows is best for us. In the meantime, He invites us to remember His faithfulness in previous situations and resolutely decide to trust Him in this one. Patience is offering praise and thanksgiving for things that are. It is also praising Him for things that will be – even though they are unseen to us right now.

As He grows us in His image, some things will come into our lives, and other things will be taken out. From time to time, we will find that shaping of our hearts and lives awkward or even painful. What will we do? Will we race to find answers that stop the unpleasantness though they may be less than His plan for us? Or will we exercise the Spiritual fruit of patience that demonstrates our choice to be satisfied in Him alone?

Peace.

Everyday Kindness Can Lighten Someone’s Load

My suitcase was heavy. As I navigated the busy sidewalks of downtown Chicago, I questioned my decision to walk instead of hiring an Uber. I decided to stop in at McDonald’s to buy an Egg McMuffin for breakfast, and I lugged the suitcase in and out of the early morning pedestrian traffic.

When I got to the train station, I realized all the escalators were moving up to the streets instead of down to the trains to help people coming off the commuter trains get out of the station faster. I and my suitcase were seriously in the way of hundreds of fast-moving people who knew exactly where they were going. I waited for an elevator, then gave up, then moved down a bit with my load and waited on another.

When I got to the basement to find my train, I searched for a direction board and realized I was on the wrong end of Union Station. So I again rolled the suitcase through all of the people and found the waiting area for my train. Then I rolled the suitcase between the tracks to my train car which happened to be the very last one. I awkwardly pulled the suitcase beside me on the steep stairs up into the train car only to realize the area where the luggage is stowed was already full. As I tried to search for another place to put my suitcase, I accidentally rolled it over my toe and felt tears stinging my eyes.

The suitcase was too heavy. I had carried it too long. Also, I was wrestling with some heavy emotions which made traveling with it all the more difficult. Somehow it felt like the suitcase had become my enemy — a representation of being unable to execute a plan successfully. And I was over it.

At the other end of the train car, a man and woman were discussing where to put their luggage. I decided to join them to see if whatever they figured out would work for me, too. The woman turned and walked to her seat as I passed her in the train car, still rolling my suitcase. There were a couple of shelves designed to hold luggage that instead held cases of haphazardly stacked water bottles. The man smiled at me, organized the cases a little tighter, reached for my suitcase, lifted it with ease, and placed it neatly on the shelf. And I exhaled.

I thanked him for his kindness. He smiled and took his seat. I found my seat as well and began organizing myself for the six-hour trip home. My heart felt a little lighter somehow. Someone had helped me with my burden and not only did that mean the suitcase was no longer something I needed to be concerned with, but it also meant that my outlook on the day was brighter.

I don’t know the man. I don’t know where he came from or where he was heading. I don’t know anything at all about his story. But I know I was weary, and he lent a hand. I know I felt small, and he saw my need. I know I was struggling, and he was kind.

A good friend of mine used to say she frequently asked Jesus to help her be a day-maker and not a day-breaker. I love that. I think about it all the time. We sometimes forget how the simplest acts of kindness can touch hearts, speak to hurts, or change the direction someone’s day is heading. Words and actions flavored with the love and grace of Jesus Christ. Let’s be kind out there, friends. It does make a difference.

Peace.