Davalynn Spencer's Blog, page 58

Faith and Fresh Hope on the Medicine Train

“I am preparing you for what is on the road ahead, just around the bend” (Jesus Calling, December 27).

The words of Sarah Young’s best-selling devotional sprang to life as the train wrapped around the curve ahead. From our seats in the dining car, my husband and I watched the engines of the California Zephyr disappear.

On the first day of our two-day journey from Denver to Sacramento, the train laced through snowy canyons and stretched across narrow valleys tucked deep in the Rocky Mountains. A perfect beginning to eight days off the grid.

Time jumped the track.

It slowed.

It showed me what I’d forgotten—that I could live without the virtual umbilical cord of instant communication and information from people I know and don’t know all over the world.

It taught me that I could sit on a passenger train and feed my soul on scenery seen by very few.

It reminded me that God is not imprisoned in seconds and minutes and hours and days.

“Be still and know that I am God,” I heard in my soul again.

Rest.

Family met us at the station. With no particular agenda, we dined with our daughter. I walked and talked with the special man in her life. Heard his heart.

On another day we visited with our out-of-state grandchildren, got to know them, listened to their opinions, discovered their likes and dislikes.

We worshipped at a church by the sea, rode bicycles along Cannery Row, shared conversations that drew us closer and prepared us for the—

—roaring engines of an airliner that brought us home in a crowded tube of hurried people with crying children and frazzled parents.

In my office, 381 email messages awaited the click of my mouse. Amazing how the Internet churned on without me during those eight days—and how I grew and stretched and settled and relaxed without it.

“The train was like medicine,” my husband said the day after our return. A miracle out of time that reminded us both how close God is if we will stop and listen and wait and watch.

Again Sarah Young’s words brushed against me: “I shower not only blessings but also outright miracles on your planet … things that most people hardly notice, like shifting shades of sunlight, fill[ing] you with heart-bursting Joy” (Jesus Calling, December 28).

Renewed faith and fresh hope—that’s what I found during those eight days off the grid.

 

Jesus Calling

Everything else is just tinsel

Christmas is when the child we were should touch the child we raise so he can see the Wonder of Love. Everything else is just tinsel.

Memories decorate more Christmases than all the world’s tree ornaments, paper and trimmings combined. For some people, those memories aren’t so pleasant. For others, they are the core of the season.

Today, our son displays a lighted miniature village in his home – the same village he grew up with.

Our daughter recently responded to a question about her knowledge of Mexican food: “You should have been at our house on Christmas Eve for the enchilada dinner.”

And both of them often mention with childlike delight the years we trekked into the Rocky Mountain woods to cut our own tree.

Good memories.

How about you? Do pleasant memories embellish your holidays, or do you cringe during the festivities?

Start fresh this year – even if most of your own childhood days were filled with sorrow or strife. You have the ability to create new memories. Give it a shot. That’s why we celebrate Christmas in the first place – to remember the Child who came our way so He could include us in His family.

 

The Contrast of Christmas

I just finished decorating for Christmas. Seems I put up less each year, but some things are a must:

The old plaster nativity set I had as a child, complete with one wise man’s chipped off nose and Joseph’s empty hand that held a long-lost staff.


The coiled-rope door wreathe – one of my husband’s old team-roping ropes spruced up with a red bandana and jangling sleigh bells.


My collection of rocking horses.


Candles.


A small tree full of miniature white lights, topped by a hand-made “country” angel.

This year several inches of snow outside my door add to the Christmas atmosphere. But I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly as much without the cozy fire in the wood stove and a cup of hot cocoa.

It’s contrast that makes the moment.

 Quiet in the rush. Warmth in the cold. Lights in the darkness. The king in a stable.

 May your Christmas be filled this year with quiet, warmth, light, and the King of kings.

For unto you

is born this day

in the city of David

a Savior,

which is Christ the Lord …

Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace,

good will toward men.

Luke 2:11

Sun-scorched land, anyone?

Sun-scorched land. Not my favorite place to be, but sometimes I find myself scrabbling through loose rock and sand—just like a character in the final novel of my three-book historical series.

As a seat-of-the-pants writer, I don’t plot and plan the story up front, I simply sit down and write it, “watching” as my characters make choices, both good and bad. I like being surprised by how they deal with obstacles and challenges.

In this latest book, one protagonist (the heroine) is a widow. The antagonist (bad guy) is a fatherless son. One of them chooses to take God at his word, and the other does not.

As the Lord would have it, a devotional reading this week lead me to Psalm 68:5, 6.

“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.

God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing;

but the rebellious live a sun-scorched land”

(Psalm 68:5, 6 NIV).

 Both of my characters suffer traumatic loss, but each responds differently. One trusts God for new life, and the other rebels, ending up in a barren and lifeless situation.

Through the story I realized that I often rebel against the Lord’s direction. I want to do things my way. And my way usually leads to a dry and barren place.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I want to remember that the Lord is my Father and Defender, my family and my song leader, the One who fills my heart with praise.

 

Sun-scorched land—not my favorite place. (Tweet this)

The Lord— my Father, Defender, family and song leader, the One who fills my heart with praise. (Tweet this)

Unimproved Road

Unimproved road, the sign said.

Looked all right to me. My husband and I continued along the unpaved lane through grazing land and open cow country, admiring an old ranch house and barn surrounded by towering cottonwood trees. The beautiful setting inspired peaceful thoughts as we drove on toward a friend’s secluded mountain home.

A hard right turn and the road roughened a bit with a few more dips and rises. Another half mile and the path narrowed. Rocks replaced gravel as roadbed, and I felt like I was in one of those off-road, he-man truck commercials.

A long drop quickly turned into a steep climb up the other side, and we didn’t dare stop for fear of getting stuck right where we were. The term roadbed deteriorated into gouge, but we trooped on.

Unimproved proved to be the understatement of the year.

But we’d been warned.

Once we made it up to the pine-covered plateau, our friend’s home beckoned just ahead. The view of the valley floor we’d crossed and the higher mountains beyond was staggering.

A destination definitely worth the journey.

Our friends with the mountain home drove their road every day—in a Subaru just like ours. Knowing they did it encouraged us that we could do it, too.

Jesus offers that same kind of encouragement. He said we’d have trouble in this world and He was right. He gave us fair warning but He didn’t stop there.

“I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33 NIV).

He’s done this. It’s hard, but it’s worth it and we’ll make it because He is with us.

Rather than being discouraged, let’s not only take heart but take Him at His word.

Hebrews 13:5

A destination worth the journey. Tweet this.

Unimproved road, the sign said. Tweet this.

Can’t do? Think again.

Have you ever been stuck between a rock and a hard place? This tongue-in-cheek cliché is our go-to phrase when times are tough.

When we feel wedged in a difficult situation, pressed upon by immovable obstacles and opposition, we begin to doubt that we can do what we thought we were called to do. Other people are so much better at what we aspire to. Why should we push against the hard place? Why try?

Both pictures show the same tree. In the second one, note the golden cottonwoods in the background flaming along a mountain creek. Now look at the gnarled and knotted juniper twisting up out of ancient rock. As beautiful as the cottonwoods are, they do not inspire me like the old weathered conifer.

The autumn foliage is breathtakingly beautiful, but the cottonwoods grow easily by the water, unencumbered and unopposed. The juniper shows me that the rock and the hard place can also be fertile ground. And when I climb up to that hard place, high above the flowing stream, I see that God is not hampered in His purposes there.

Sometimes God has to move me to change my perspective. It’s then I see things I never would have seen otherwise.

Let’s not underestimate God’s ability to use us wherever we are.

Philippians 4:11-13

The potter’s loving hand

#thepotter

The potter returned to our church last Sunday and demonstrated how God raises us up. There is more to resurrection, he said, than rising from physical death. Of course we hope that is true.

Most of us long to rise from the grave of failed relationships, lost jobs, and poor choices. The potter says we can when we know the power of Christ’s resurrection.

By no miracle other than the pressure of his hands, the potter caused the clay to rise from an ugly lump to a tall, stately vase.

(Did you catch the cause?)

The pressure of his hands.

As he worked, the potter discussed Phil. 3:10, “that I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, becoming conformed unto his death;”

I would rather rise up “on wings as eagles” by waiting on the Lord. It sounds safer, don’t you think? However, even waiting can involve suffering when one’s fate appears to be at the mercy of another human—when word has not come from a child deployed overseas. Or the doctor has not yet called with his findings.

See how close the potter sits to his project, how focused his attention, how protective his posture?

In my eyes, the potter is a picture of the loving Savior who transforms us—He who sees not what is (scars, wounds, gouges, holes) but what is possible at the touch of His fingers.

 

Collapsed in His Embrace

The Potter: Dave Blakeslee

Ready, Set …

I misplaced only two things during our recent move across town: my shoes and my Bible.

Actually, it was more than two things, but all the shoes were in one giant box because I thought it was a good idea at the time. Of course the box wasn’t marked “shoes” because who marks boxes for a quickie cross-town move?

My daughter-in-law does, and it was her baby stroller or toilet box or some other box from their recent move into which I had dumped all my shoes, boots, and purses. I just couldn’t remember exactly what the picture was on the outside, but I was fairly certain it wasn’t the box she’d marked “Food” or “Clothes.”

Padding into the cardboard forest in the garage Sunday morning in my slippers because I’d had enough foresight to set them aside, I felt like Lucy pushing through the coats in the Wardrobe.

One round through the box maze and still no shoes. I returned to the spare room that would soon be an office and dug through stacks of books looking for my Bible. I had an entire shelf of Bibles already unpacked, but I wanted my Bible. And I really needed shoes because that morning I was scheduled to play on the worship team. Pink fluffy slippers weren’t going to cut it.

God tapped me on the shoulder with His wonderful sense of humor:

“And having your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace …”

The only two things I needed He’d rolled up nicely in one phrase written a couple thousand years ago.

Like He knew.

After one more prayer-filled excursion through the garage, I located the baby-stroller box labeled “Towels” dead center, right under the overhead garage-door opener. I draped myself over a stack of plastic tubs and pulled out the first thing I could reach: red boots. Fine. I’d wear black jeans.

Sometimes we’re not as prepared as we think we are.

 

“In their hearts humans plan their course,

but the Lord establishes their steps.”

Proverbs 16:9 NIV

P.S. I found my Bible two days later in a bag of important things I’d brought into our new-to-us home so I’d know where to look when I needed them.

 

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Take a break

This pickup man takes a break after the rodeo. He’s still wearing his armor – the heavy thick chaps, knee pads, shin guards, spurs, rope, hat. Each item has a critical purpose and is designed to help him do his job—getting cowboys out of a storm or bucking stock out of the arena.

But he’s stepped off his horse and stands outside the fence now. He’ll rest. Take a break, gather himself for the next performance tomorrow. Rest is just as important as the tools he uses. Without it, he won’t be fit to help the next rider who needs him.

We’re built for rest. God incorporated a Sabbath into our weekly schedule. Jesus often retreated to an out-of-the-way spot, free of the crowds and noise and demands. In His teachings He said, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

If the one who rescues us knew the value of repose, shouldn’t we follow His example?

What do you need a break from today?

“Are you tired? Worn out?

Burned out on religion?

Come to me.

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.

I’ll show you how to take a real rest.

Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.

I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.

Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

—Jesus

Matthew 11:28-10 (MSG)

Scarred but standing

“I didn’t see that one coming.” “How could God let this happen?” “What now?”

Been there? I dare say, most have. We lose our job, our home, our love, our way. We struggle to get back up, dig out the gravel pitting our flesh, and continue on. But after that “one” we didn’t see coming, we’re never quite the same.

Scars remind us of painful experiences, even of lessons learned. But those scars are not who we are.

See the burned-out hollow in this tree? This oak is the inspiration for my recent novel. It lives in spite of its enormous wound.

“You’re not defined by your injuries,” says the heroine in The Rancher’s Second Chance. She is appalled that her neighbor sees himself only through his life-changing wounds from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. “We’re all crippled and short-sighted in some way,” she insists.

Both the main characters in my story bear gaping wounds—one physical, the other emotional. And both must decide if they trust God enough to let Him reach into those wounds and “make all things new.”

God is the great recycler of human wreckage, but we must allow His touch.

Christ gave us a second chance at Calvary but He didn’t stop there. He renews us by His Spirit every single day. His word refreshes us and gives us courage to get back up and keep going in spite of our handicaps.

It’s hard. We may look different. But battle scars and wounds are simply that—scars and wounds. Beautiful treasures beneath the scarred hand of our resurrected healer.

 

This post first appeared on the More to Life Magazine blog post on August 9, 2013.