Michele Huey's Blog: God, Me, and a Cup of Tea, page 42

Boundaries and Balance, Part 2: Sabbath Margins

 

 

[image error]I don’t do this often enough–take an afternoon through the week to pause my work button and enjoy a baseball game on a beautiful summer afternoon.

“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” –Jesus, as quoted in Mark 2:27 NIV

What image comes to mind when you hear the word “Sabbath”?

A day of rest and relaxation? A day to restore spent batteries? A day to finally schedule those fun activities you don’t have time for the rest of the week? A day to worship God? A nice, long, delicious Sunday afternoon nap? Parking it before the television to watch the game? Or a day to catch up with all the work you couldn’t fit into Monday through Saturday?

For me, Sabbath meant a day of rest, and that, traditionally, was Sunday. And only Sunday.

So when I read Priscilla Shirer’s view of Sabbath in her Bible study Breathe, her words stopped me in my Sabbath tracks: “God always and eternally intended Sabbath to be a lifestyle—an attitude, a perspective, an orientation for living that enables us to govern our lives and steer clear of bondage.” (emphasis mine)

What bondage? I live in a free country. That makes me free, right?

Wrong. There are many things that can enslave me.

Like to-do lists. I cram too many “must-do” items in my daily schedule then feel like a big, fat failure when I don’t accomplish everything on the list.

“How can I get everything done on my to-do list?” I once lamented.

“Put less on your list,” someone answered.

I wish I would’ve heeded that advice when it was given to me. Instead I developed a daily and weekly schedule using an Excel spreadsheet. To which I am a slave.

Oh, I get such pleasure in crossing items off! So much so that I’ll remember something that needs done that isn’t on the list, do it, then add it to the list so I can cross it off. That’s pretty pathetic.

We become dependent on that to which we are addicted. I depended on crossing off items on the list to make me feel good about myself, to feel productive, perhaps to give my life meaning. But all I was doing was spinning my wheels and burning myself out. No wonder I felt overwhelmed, plumbed out, ready to quit the ministries to which God called me.

I needed rest, but, more important, I needed to examine my unrealistic lists and schedules and determine, prayerfully, what to cut and what to keep.

And I needed to set what Priscilla calls Sabbath margins around what remained—establish boundaries so I can have time for Shabbat. Boundaries, remember, aren’t burdens, but gifts.

Shabbat comes from a Hebrew word that means to cease, to stop, to rest—verbs that require decisive action.

[image error]A day on the Glendale Lake with our daughter, her boys, and our youngest son was just the Shabbat I needed at the end of July.

God created Sabbath on the seventh day to give the rest of what He created balance. A life without Sabbath, without rest, is out of balance. Sabbath is not an option but an integral part of life. A lifestyle, not a day.

I’m still wrapping my mind around Sabbath being a lifestyle.

As I examine my schedule and place margins around those activities I choose to keep, I’m beginning to understand that Sabbath is not just Sunday but every day of the week.

Where do you need to put Sabbath margins?

Father, I pray for guidance, wisdom, and discernment as I continue to follow Your lead of establishing Sabbath margins in my life so that nothing holds me captive but You. Amen.

[image error]Day trips are one our favorite ways to spend the Sabbath–guaranteed to keep me away from those vicious to-do lists. Dean and I took a day trip last Sunday afternoon to the Sherman Lighthouse in Tionesta, Pa.
[image error]Oh, we have so much fun taking selfies!

NOTE: Next week, we’ll continue the series “Boundaries and Balance” by examining other-people boundaries.

Read and meditate on Genesis 2:1–3; Exodus 20:8–11

© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Boundaries and Balance, Part 1

 

 

[image error]“Tree and Stone Wall” Yorkshire Dales (Petr Kratochvil), Image in public domain

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. –Genesis 1:1 NIV

My favorite poet, Robert Frost, wrote a poem called “Mending Wall,” in which two neighbors take a springtime walk along the wall dividing their property, replacing stones and rebuilding the wall after the winter.

I understand why they had to do this. Our house is situated on a hillside, and landscaping the sloped yard presented a bit of a challenge. So my husband built a stone wall in the yard below the house to hold back the soil and keep it from moving. Every spring, though, after a winter of the ground freezing and thawing, expanding and contracting, my husband has to replace the stones that have shifted or fallen off completely.

In our case, the wall doesn’t mark a boundary, but serves to beautify the property and, more importantly, to retain the soil to keep it from shifting and eroding.

The fence around our garden, however, is anything but aesthetic—especially when I tie plastic grocery bags on the thin, flexible wire to scare away the country critters. In this case, the boundary serves to keep the unwanted out.

My neighbors have fences, too—electrified boundaries to keep their horses and cows in the pastures designated for them. “Good fences make good neighbors,” Frost wrote. I agree. I don’t want my neighbors’ horses and cows wandering in my yard, even though the fertilizer they’d leave behind could be used on the garden.

Walls, fences, boundaries serve different purposes: to hold back, retain, keep the unwanted out and the wanted in, mark property lines, and in some cases, beautify. In order to have order and not chaos, we need to establish and maintain boundaries.

Take creation, for instance. At first the earth was “a shapeless, chaotic mass” (Genesis 1:2 TLB). Then God established boundaries: He separated the light (day) from the darkness (night), the water from the sky, the seas from the dry land. The first man and woman were given a boundary, too—not to eat of a certain tree. And when they did (Frost also wrote, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.”), a boundary was placed around Eden (see Genesis 3:24).

When God gave His people, the Israelites, boundaries in the form of the Ten Commandments, He wanted to protect them, not hinder or hurt them. But once again, Frost’s observation, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” came into play.

Boundaries are a vital part of society. Without them, everyone would do what’s right in their own eyes (see Judges 21:25), and chaos would reign.

A life without boundaries, then, is not a life of freedom, a life to do what you want when you want, how you want, and how long you want. Pull out all the stops and what do you have? Chaos, catastrophe, destruction, disaster.

[image error]US Forest Service, Image in public domain

Just look at the wildfires in California. Fire contained brings us warmth, gives us cooked food, relaxes us. But fire uncontained produces destruction.

Look at the devastation caused by the flooding in Texas. Water within its bounds provides us with transportation, nourishment, energy, and pleasure.

[image error] Harvey Day 5-12, August 30, 2017, Photo by J. Daniel Escareno (from flickr.com)

Look at Florida after Hurricane Irma blasted through. Wind within a certain range gives us refreshing breezes, energy, electricity. Wind unrestrained results in disaster.

[image error] Irma image courtesy of Cayobo (flickr.com)

In her Bible study Breathe Priscilla Shirer states, “Boundaries are not burdens. They are gifts.”

Over the next week, I want you to think about the boundaries in your life. What are they? What purposes do they serve? Do they hinder or help? Are they burdens or gifts?

Open my mind, heart, and spirit, O Lord, to what You want to reveal to me about the boundaries in my life. Amen.

NOTE: Next week, we’ll continue the series “Boundaries and Balance” by examining personal boundaries.

Read and meditate on Genesis 1–3

© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

A Time for Change

 

[image error] To find more of Karen’s books, click on the image.

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He. I am He who will sustain you. –Isaiah 46:4 NIV

Outside on a makeshift table—a wooden pallet resting on two waist-high saw horses—is the last batch of tomatoes from the garden. Glory hallelujah!

While I’m thankful for a good crop of tomatoes this year, I’m ready to throw in my canning towel. And while I’m not ready to throw out the gardening tools altogether, I am ready to make next year’s garden smaller. A dozen tomato plants instead of two dozen. No corn, since it hasn’t done well and takes up too much room.

And I wonder—what “plants” in my personal life take up too much room for what little they produce? Both time and energy are dwindling these days. I just remarked to someone yesterday—at a funeral, no less—that the older I get, the faster time goes and the slower I go.

Time doesn’t really move any faster than it did when I was 21, 31, 41, 51, or even 61. But here I am, nearly 66, and I’m just realizing this old, not-gray-yet mare just ain’t what she used to be.

This came as a shock. I saw others getting older and slower, and I knew that day would eventually come to me. But I wasn’t ready for it. And here it is.

What am I going to do about it?

First, prayerfully, thoughtfully, and carefully scrutinize my schedule and determine what to keep and what to cut. When you’re spread too thin, you can’t give your best.

I want—I need—rest and relaxation time to restore and refresh my body, mind, and spirit. This includes leisure reading, crocheting, and just sitting on the swing watching the leaves turn and the clouds float across the autumn sky. This has been lacking.

Family time is also important—my grandkids are growing up too fast—as is time to take care of household duties.

Then there are my ministries: my little flock (I’m a lay speaker/pastor) and my writing, which includes this column and fiction.

What to cut and what to keep?

A friend gave me a card I posted on my workstation that reads, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

Psalm 37 gives some good advice as I ponder taking that first step:

Don’t fret (v. 1).
Trust in the Lord (v. 3; also see v. 4).
Commit my way to Him (v. 5).
Be still (v. 7).
Wait patiently (v. 7).

I’ll be the first to admit those last two are hard!

As I ponder and pray about what’s next for me, I rest on God’s promise: “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He. I am He who will sustain you” (Isaiah 46:4).

Life circumstances change. People change. We change. But God never will.

What changes are you facing today?

Thank You, Lord God, that whatever my future holds, You are already there. Amen.

Read and meditate on Ecclesiastes 3:1–8; Psalm 37

© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Now available

[image error] Formerly titled “Before I Die”

“Before I die, I want to fall in love again.”

Linda Laverly wants to experience deep in her soul that head-over-heels, I’m-crazy-about-you feeling just once more. Time is running out, she thinks; her sister died at fifty-five, and Linda is just one year shy of that milestone. So she leaves Brian, her predictable, dependable, faithful, but unromantic husband of thirty-two years to try to find a spark again.

Is her quest worth risking her family, her job, her reputation, her faith? As she wrestles with issues of aging and self-image, anger and betrayal, she finds the love she’s longing for where she least expects it. But if she’s to have it, she must make the one sacrifice she isn’t ready to make.

Available on Amazon for your Kindle and also as paperback. A re-release of Before I Die with a new cover and a new title.

When Life Isn’t Fair

 

 

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Read and meditate on Matthew 20:1–16

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. –Philippians 4:11 NIV

Cheryl (not her real name) worked for one company for more than 25 years, faithfully showing up on time and putting in a full day’s work and then some. One of her responsibilities—for which she was not compensated—was to train new hires.

One day she discovered the girl she’d been training, who’d just passed the probation period, made the same hourly wage as Cheryl did. Compensation, she learned, was based not on seniority but on job position.

I never understood the point of the parable Jesus told in today’s reading. It just seemed unfair that those who worked only a few hours received the same pay as those who’d slaved all day under the hot sun.

But when I finally got past what I perceived as unfairness, I gleaned not one, but four lessons.

First, life isn’t fair. Joseph was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers then thrown in jail, where he languished for years, on a false accusation. Paul faithfully pursued God’s calling, only to be shipwrecked, stoned, beaten, left for dead, chased out of town more than once, and arrested on false charges (2 Corinthians 11:21–33). If that wasn’t enough, a “thorn in the flesh” (no one knows what it was) plagued him. Even though he prayed about it, God didn’t remove it, instead telling Paul, “My grace is sufficient” (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).

The second thing I recognized was that we humans are a grumbling lot. The Israelites complained all the way from Egypt to the Promised Land. We’re no different. You know what it’s like to spend time with a grumbler. They’re miserable, so they make everyone around them miserable. Our complaining has an effect not only on our perspective, but also on others. Both Paul (Philippians 2:14) and James (James 5:9) tell us not to grumble or complain.

Instead we are to let everything we say be good and helpful so that our words are an encouragement to those who hear them (Ephesians 4:29). Every morning I pray, “Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth. Keep watch over the door of my lips” (Psalm 141:3).

It helps to have a good perspective, and that is attained by allowing God to transform our minds (Romans 12:2) and think only that which is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8).

The third lesson I gleaned from this parable is to stop comparing myself with others, my situation with their situation, my pay with their pay. Instead, I am to be content with what I have (Hebrews 13:5), in whatever circumstances I find myself (Philippians 4:11–13).

Either I believe God is in control of everything that touches me—and has a plan and purpose for it—or I don’t.

And finally, once I got past the unfairness, I saw that this isn’t a parable about fairness at all. It’s about God’s grace. God’s amazing grace.

If He wants to give the deathbed conversion the same heaven as the lifelong servant, He can. It’s His grace to dispense as He chooses, and His home to open to whomever He welcomes.

I still struggle with unfairness, and I will as long as I tread this sphere. But I have the assurance that even though life may be unfair, God never is.

Help me, Lord, not to focus on “fair” but to focus on You. Amen.

© 2017, Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Image in public domain.

 

What’s REALLY Important?

 

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Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. –Psalm 90:12 NIV

Music has been a part of my friend George’s life since he toured with a rock-and-roll band in the 1960s and early ’70s. In his seventies now, George still enjoys playing his bass guitar with an oldies band.

One day he and the band members visited their lead guitarist, Mark, who was in the home stretch of a terminal illness.

“We didn’t know that he would die the next day,” George told me. “We knew he was going to die, but we thought it might be in a month. We didn’t know. Nor did he.”

They got to talking about the best gig they ever played.

“It was that job that we did for those rich people, that served Oysters Rockefeller,” George said. “That was the most unbelievable delicious spread of food I’ve ever had.”

They laughed. “George, you would think about the food.”

“That gig down in Virginia Beach,” Randy said. “Remember the size of the crowd and the cheering? The money they paid us?”

Then Mark—who was going to die the next day—put in his two cents.

“Do you remember the gig we played at that little vineyard in the Blue Ridge Mountains? Remember how sweet the people were? And then at the end of the day, do you remember that spectacular sunset?”

“And I got to thinking,” George told me. “Was it the money? The crowds? The cheering? The food? Or was it the sweet people and the spectacular sunset that made the most impact on our lives?”

Too often we go through life trying to make a difference. We want our lives to count for something. So we spend our time on earth doing, doing, doing—all too often f[image error]eeling like a hamster on an exercise wheel, going round and round but not getting anywhere. And wondering if, in the end, what we did mattered.

Or we spend our days getting, getting, getting all we can to make our lives easier, more enjoyable. Then one day we realize our homes and offices and vehicles are cluttered with stuff we thought we needed. So we rent storage place to put all that extra stuff we don’t need but we don’t want to part with.

Our sentiments echo those of the writer of Ecclesiastes, who pursued work, pleasure, wisdom, knowledge—in short, everything under the sun. Only to discover, in the end, it all was meaningless—“a chasing after the wind.”

So what, then, gives our lives meaning and purpose?

The crowds? The applause? The money? The things we can get with money? The food?

Or the people we encounter? The spectacular sunsets. Autumn in all its glowing glory. A soft snowfall. The first flower of spring. The smell of mowed grass on a summer’s day. The scent of a freshly bathed baby. The feel of a child’s arms around your neck. The sense of your spouse’s presence next to you when you wake up in the middle of the night. The explosion of flavor from the first tomato of the season. The roiling black clouds of a coming storm. Or the white cotton ball clouds that change shape as they float through the summer sky. Cloud shadows skimming across a field. The gurgle of a mountain stream. The whirr of a hummingbird’s wings.

I don’t want to look back on my life and realize I missed all that really mattered. All that God placed within my reach but I didn’t touch, taste, see, smell, listen to, enjoy. Everything that cost absolutely nothing but the time to took to stop and savor it.

What about you? What is the best gig you ever played?

[image error]Sunset in Smithport 8/23/2017
(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Help me, O Lord, not to chase after the wind but to spend my days with my eyes and heart wide open, ready to recognize and embrace the simple pleasures You bless me with every day. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 90.

© 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Images of calendar and hamster are in pubic domain.

 

A Perfect Heart

 

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I will walk within my house with a perfect heart. –Psalm 101:2 KJV

I came across this verse in my quiet time Thursday morning, and it stopped me in my tracks. I’ve learned when that happens – when a verse or a quote lodges itself in my mind – it’s time to SELAH!

Selah, by the way, means to pause and calmly think about what you just read. Actually the meaning of selah is unclear, but this is one of the proposed definitions and the one I prefer, perhaps because I need a reminder to slow down.

So let’s think about this verse.

First, “walk” in Scripture means the way you live your life – what you say, what you do, your actions and reactions, thoughts and feelings.

“Within my house” – now that’s a challenge. Because it’s “within my house” that I let my hair down, let my warts show, and unleash my tongue. It’s where I allow myself to vent, cry, and feel the emotions I shove down deep when I’m with other people but are simmering beneath the surface.

When I spill sugar on the counter or tea on the floor, for instance, my mouth will speak the frustration in my heart. I’m pressed for time because the day’s to-do list is longer than the day. I’m angry with myself because now I have to clean up the spill (perfectly, of course), and I. Don’t. Have. The. Time. It seems I’d rather have a perfectly clean kitchen than a perfectly clean heart.

Even though there’s no one around most of the time to hear me, my words reflect the condition of my heart, and that isn’t very pretty at times.

And so I pray, “Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips” (Psalm 141:3).

More often, though, I’m reminding myself to “let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth …” (Ephesians 4:29).

“With a perfect heart” – now that’s downright scary. How can I ever achieve perfection? Only God is perfect. I’m like Isaiah when he saw the Lord “Woe is me! I am undone!” he exclaimed (Isaiah 6:5). In the presence of God’s perfect holiness, he felt the immensity of his own sinfulness.

Yet Jesus commands us to be perfect (Matthew 5:48), and perfection begins in the heart, where our desires lie.

So, having a perfect heart begins with desiring one, wanting to be perfect as God wants us to be, and not shying away from a command we feel is impossible.

And so I pray, “Lord, give me the desires of my heart. Replace what I want with what You want me to want” (Psalm 37:4).

Sometimes I have to let go of that which He does not want me to want. I’m not talking only about the sinful stuff, but also the good stuff, such as serving Him.

Sometimes we cram our schedules with so much good stuff that it isn’t good anymore. It’s become “just one more thing” on a plate that is way too full. We’re so stretched out (and stressed out), we can’t give each task the time, energy, and focus it deserves because we’re in such a hurry to get it checked off and move on to the next one. Where’s the joy in that?

What’s in the heart is eventually going to come out in your words (Luke 6:45) and actions (Matthew 15:19). So, “above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23).

A perfect heart. Is it even possible?

Yes. God wouldn’t require something of us He isn’t going to help us to achieve (see 2 Peter 1:3).

Besides, we don’t obtain perfection on our own. Nor do we attain it in one fell swoop. It’s a process, a transformation that takes place over a lifetime from the inside out, with the work and by the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit.

[image error]A perfect heart – Selah!

Help me today, O Lord, to walk within my house with a perfect heart. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 101.

(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved. Images in public domain.

 

Pushing Through the Pain

 

 

In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. –Romans 8:37 NIV

My 15-year-old granddaughter Madison loves volleyball. So much so that she spent all summer working to stay in shape for the upcoming season. Good thing, because when volleyball practice started, the sessions were intense and physically demanding.

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“It’s a good thing you love the sport,” I told her when she described the grueling (to me anyway) exercises she had to do.

Imagine her disappointment when, after the first match, she sustained an injury to her back. She texted me from the chiropractor’s office: “I’m out for two weeks or longer.”

Then, on top of that, a sinus infection kept her home from school the day of the second match of the season.

But don’t stress, Grandma. Right after the “I’m out” text, she sent me another one: “Never mind. He said if I do special stretches and go to the trainer, I can play.”

She may return to her beloved volleyball on Monday, but her injury, which affects her sciatic nerve—and you know the pain that comes with that—won’t be healed for at least two weeks. But she’s going to play through the pain and sinus infection because she loves the sport with a passion.

[image error]Then there’s her older brother, Brent, a senior. He decided last year to go out for football, changing his sport from baseball.

I had my reservations. I know these players take a pounding, and Brent suffered some serious injuries playing baseball, including at least one concussion and a compound fracture of his upper arm.

“I’m going to buy you a big roll of bubble wrap for your birthday,” I told him.

But Brent set his goal to make the team and began a self-imposed program of endurance and strength training. He put on weight and studied the game. And made the team.

He scored the first touchdown of the season for his team (and the first touchdown of his career) in the first game. And the team voted him, a first-year-player, as their captain. (Grandmas are allowed to brag.)

Imagine his frustration (and mine) when, after all that work and all he’d accomplished, after that first game, he ended up with shin splints. And you know how painful those can be. So down to the trainer he goes. But that hasn’t taken him from the game he’s come to love.

“The only way they’re taking me off the field,” he told me, “is on a stretcher.”

[image error]Yes, this tangled bundle of bandages and tape came off Brent’s leg after practice.

And so he endures ice baths and miles of ace bandages and tape.

I recognized a familiar disappointment that settled in my heart. My own kids were involved in sports and also suffered pains and sprains, which I felt kept them from performing their best.

But now I look at my grandchildren and their determination and grit, and I realize that no one who truly plays a sport escapes injury. If you give it your all, you’re going to get hurt. It’s just the nature of the game.

And the nature of life itself.

We’re all playing with pain, aren’t we? Whether it’s physical, mental, or emotional, whether it’s apparent or hidden. We’re the “walking wounded.”

I used to think it was better to back off when pain flared. It’s human to want to avoid pain.

But we can’t live our lives in bubble wrap. Pain, I’ve learned, can develop our character, strengthen us, and drive us to the One who has a plan and purpose for it. Now I’m seeing the importance of pushing through the pain and giving life my all.

Like my grandchildren, we have a choice. We can moan and groan, wallow in self-pity and bewail our luck.

Or we can man up and push on, refusing to be benched—until they take us off the field on a stretcher.

“I have come that they might have life,” Jesus said, “life to the full” (John 10:10).

Are you living life to the full?

Help me to embrace all You send my way, O Lord, even pain, knowing You have a plan and purpose for all You allow in my life. Grant me sustaining grace and a willing spirit. Amen.

Read and meditate on Hebrews 12:1–13

MORE TEA: Some quotes on pain

I am not a theologian or a scholar, but I am very aware of the fact that pain is necessary to all of us. In my own life, I think I can honestly say that out of the deepest pain has come the strongest conviction of the presence of God and the love of God.  ~ Elizabeth Elliot

God never allows pain without a purpose in the lives of His children. He never allows Satan, nor circumstances, nor any ill-intending person to afflict us unless He uses that affliction for our good. God never wastes pain. He always causes it to work together for our ultimate good, the good of conforming us more to the likeness of His Son (see Romans 8:28-29).  ~ Jerry Bridges

Read more

(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

 

Beyond the Loss

 

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. . . a crown of beauty instead of ashes . . . –Isaiah 61:3 NIV 

At 8:32 a.m. on May 18, 1980, Mount St. Helens erupted in a violent blast that blew out the north side of the mountain. Everything within eight miles—man, beast, and vegetation—met with instant death and destruction. Shock waves leveled everything within their path, including centuries-old trees, for another 19 miles. Beyond that, the trees that remained were nothing more than standing matchsticks, seared of leaves and life.

Fifty-seven people lost their lives in what was the most destructive volcanic eruption in U.S. history. Miles of roads and railroad tracks were destroyed. Ash spewed 12 miles high, then mushroomed out, eventually dumping an estimated 500 million tons in 11 states and five Canadian provinces.

The blast, and the accompanying earthquake, altered the landscape and forever changed the ecosystem.

In July Dean and I visited the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. We toured the museum, viewed displays and read placards, listened to an energetic ranger give an animated talk, and sat through a jaw-dropping video that captured the lateral blast.

We stood, awestruck, as we gazed at what was once, at 4,400 feet above sea level, the fifth highest peak in the state of Washington.

Today the north face of Mount St. Helens, which lost 1,300 feet in elevation in the blast, is one gigantic crater, the area around it a moonscape, gray and lifeless. Sun-bleached tree trunks are strewn over the ash-dotted hillsides surrounding the volcano.

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But the place is anything but dead.

Prairie lupine and other wildflowers bob their colorful petals above the green meadow grass. We watched elk graze in the North Fork Toutle River Valley, where patches of trees are making a comeback.

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Nothing has been planted, at least not intentionally. After the initial cleanup following the eruption, the area was left to nature. Within a month, avalanche lilies poked their heads through ash deposits 10 miles away.

One of the documentaries we viewed was titled, “Eternal cycle of destruction and renewal.”

“Where humans see catastrophe,” the narrator said, “nature sees opportunity.”

How true. The more I learn about the eruption and how the area is naturally recovering, the more I am in awe of nature—and the One who created it.

Out of destruction came new life—not the same as before, but life nevertheless. Plants grew that couldn’t have thrived in the shadow of the forest. The nutrients in the volcanic ash allowed different species of plants to grow. A new kind of beauty emerged from and because of the ashes.

As I gazed at the prairie lupine in the meadows and the splashes of red, orange, yellow, and white swaying in the summer breeze on nature’s palette, a phrase from Isaiah came to mind: “a crown of beauty for ashes.”

There are times our lives are rocked to the core. Our very foundations are shaken. That with which we’re familiar—comfortingly familiar—is blasted away. A gaping, colorless void replaces the mount where our dreams once reached for the sky.

The landscape of our lives is forever changed. Fallout obscures our vision, clogs our breathing, snuffs out our hopes. We will never be the same.

But all is not lost. For out the ashes will come new life. Out of destruction renewal.

For where we see catastrophe, God sees opportunity—to stretch us, transform us, change our direction, grow our faith, give us a life we could never have imagined before. A life resplendent with new color, new dreams, new hope.

If God so cared about nature that He placed seeds of renewal in what appears to be total destruction, will He not care for you?

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?” Jesus says in Matthew 10:29–31. “Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth much more than many sparrows.”

Thank You that what I view as the end is not the end, O Lord, but really a new beginning. Amen.

Read and meditate on Psalm 46

(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.

Impossible Prayers

 

For with God, nothing shall be impossible. – Luke 1:37 (RSV)

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 All you need is a Bible, a few three-by-five cards or prayer notebook/journal, and a mustard seed faith.

For what?

For your impossible prayer list.

And what, you ask, is an impossible prayer list?

A list of prayer requests that are humanly impossible to answer.

 

The idea for an impossible prayer list originated with my friend Virelle Kidder. She told me that she faithfully prayed over her list daily, then, when no answers seemed forthcoming, eventually forgot about it. Until a year later when she dropped her Bible and everything stuffed between the pages fell onto the floor.

There, on her knees, she read over her impossible prayer list: a kidney for a friend who’d already had two failed transplants—answered; a healthy baby for her daughter who suffers from lupus—answered; healing for six broken marriages—all but one greatly improved (and that couple, she noted, was in counseling); personal financial needs—money appeared, she said, “out of nowhere”; godly wives for her son and his friends—two matches made.

Out of 10 impossible prayer requests, seven had been answered. Not all in ways she’d envisioned, and not in her time frame. But they were answered.

Whatever happened to faith? I wondered. The kind of faith that moves mountains, the James 1:6–7 kind of unwavering faith.

I thought about my own shield of faith, shot full of holes, corroded by the rust of doubt. I thought about my own prayer requests—all safe because they didn’t require the impossible to be answered. No requests that would stretch my faith.

I needed the faith of a child—simple, pure, uncorrupted by the cynicism of the world.  I needed to take God at His Word:

“Ask and you shall receive” (Matthew 7:7)
“If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11)
“And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory (Philippians 4:19)
“Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you” (Psalm 50:15)
“Call unto me and I will answer you and show you great and mighty things” (Jeremiah 33:3)
“Now to him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20)
“Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:16)
“If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20–21)

God’s Word is pretty clear. My choice is whether or not to believe it.

“Is anything too hard for the LORD?” (Genesis 16:14)

Forgive me, God, for my weak faith. I believe You hear and answer all prayers—mustard-seed sized and mountain-sized, possible and impossible. I believe I’ll see Your perfect answer to my impossible prayer in Your time and in Your way. And I give You the praise and the glory, now, before I even see it. Amen.

Read and meditate on Matthew 7:7–11

(c) 2017 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.