A Gift Greater Than Gold

We don't do debt at our house anymore, but that's another story. It's actually a great story, but all you need to know right now is that, with the exception of our mortgage, we don't do debt. I'm not particularly frugal and am no financial wizard, but as the keeper of the finances, I know the only way to live without debt is to set aside money each month for things we know we'll want or need. One of the biggest chunks we set aside right now is called the "car fund" because while my husband and I are happy to drive our current vehicles as long as they last, both are over ten years old, so it just makes sense to be prepared. We started the fund after selling some property and paying off all our debt over a year ago, and have been faithfully paying into it every month since. It's pretty healthy, but we won't be really comfortable for another year or so. Still, we've been blessed with reliable cars, and have faith that God will provide us with what we need when we need it.

Because of that, when it came time to make a pledge to our church's annual missionary budget, it seemed logical to earmark at least one month's car savings. Each year, members of our church are asked to promise a certain amount of support in faith that God will enable them to honor their commitment. Called a "faith-promise," it is an opportunity to share in the building of God's kingdom and to exercise our faith. For the 2009-2010 budget year, we committed to one month's car savings, plus 25%. At the time, it seemed like just enough of a stretch, but honestly, I had very little doubt we'd be able to honor the commitment. I had focused most of my faith in the hopes that neither vehicle would need to be replaced until we had built up our car fund, but God had much bigger things in mind, and two circumstances would soon arise that would truly test my faith in particular.

The first was an unwelcome surprise. Near the end of 2009, we received a huge, unexpected bill from our HOA. The details aren't important, but it funded a major project mandated by an outdated state law. While we took advantage of the option to break up the amount into three payments over several months, the total bill was equal to exactly three months of car savings, and that's just where we decided it would come from. I didn't feel great about it, but figured there was no sense worrying about it either, so I took a deep breath, prayed, and tried to let it go.

The second came up in the Spring, months after we'd paid the first installment to our HOA and months before the final two installments were due. I really felt God was leading me to attend a writer's conference in the summer, but was discouraged when I learned it would cost several hundred dollars (or two months of car savings). I talked it over with my husband, and was pleasantly surprised when he said I should go. Again, we were looking at a major expense we hadn't budgeted for, and again--unwilling to tap into our "real" savings--we decided to pull it from the car fund. But then I chickened out.

Well, not really, but with the final two installments to our HOA, our faith-promise, and the conference registration deadline all looming, the reality of allocating a total of six months of car savings elsewhere started to make me uneasy. As I sat at my computer with the conference website open, I just couldn't bring myself to type in my debit card number. And yet, I felt so strongly that God was calling me to go, and the go-ahead from my typically frugal husband only reinforced that feeling. Confused and conflicted, I tried to rationalize a solution. Obviously, I couldn't do anything about the HOA bill, so I sat at my desk weighing our faith-promise, the conference, and my anxiety. Had our faith-promise pledge been too ambitious? Was the pull I felt toward the conference just wishful thinking? Or was I simply worrying too much?

As I prayed and pondered, the answer to all of those questions was, "no." In my heart, I knew we had to honor our faith-promise commitment, and yet, the pull to go to the conference was undeniable. Unable to comfortably reconcile those two things, I stopped trying to. I clicked the conference website closed, pushed back my chair, and literally threw up my hands in surrender. "Okay God, I can't figure this out. I'm leaving it up to you. If I'm meant to go to this conference, you're going to have to show me how to do it or ease my anxiety about spending the money."

If I made that sound like it was easy, it wasn't. I went to bed confused and disappointed. My husband works evenings, so I couldn't even talk through my concerns with him. But the next morning, when I wandered into the kitchen to pour my super-sized glass of iced tea, he said he had picked up the mail on his way home the night before and there was something in the HOA newsletter about a change in the state-mandated project. Still sleepy and sluggish, I stared dumbly at the article and had to read it several times before it sunk in. A new state law had made the project unnecessary, and while some of the funds we'd already paid had been spent in preparation for the project, some of it would be returned. More importantly, we were no longer liable for the final two installments. The one part of the equation I thought couldn't change had changed overnight, and the amount we'd planned to allocate to the final two installments of the HOA bill easily covered the cost of the conference.

Thankful and giddy, I had no idea that God wasn't even done yet. Fast forward to just a few weeks ago. On a whim, I sent in some old silver and gold jewelry to goldstashforcash.com. Don’t feel bad if you're snickering because I was skeptical of the whole "cash for gold" craze myself, but goldstashforcash.com is endorsed by Dave Ramsey, so I knew they were a credible business. I gathered up all my broken, outdated, and tarnished jewelry and sent it off with absolutely no expectations. My husband and I joked about it for a couple of days and tried to guess how much "cash" I'd get for my "stash." My guess was $200.00, but really, I had no idea how much my stuff was worth, and would have been satisfied with $50.00. Imagine my surprise when the check arrived a few days later, and there were four numbers on the left of the decimal. In fact, it was just shy of three months' car savings.

If you've gotten lost in the math, let me help you out a little. We were originally looking at six months of car savings allocated elsewhere. But with the HOA project canceled and my unexpected windfall, our total outlay for the faith-promise, conference, and the small amount that went to our HOA was $50.00 less than our car savings for one month. I guess that's why they call it a "faith-promise."

As thankful as I am, I had reservations about publishing this particular post because I don't want to imply that God is some sort of fairy godfather who magically grants wishes. This particular gift is tangible and easily measurable, but it's also so much more. God brought me to a place where I couldn't find a comfortable solution and gave me the faith to leave it in His hands. He chose to make it possible for me to go to the conference and to make it abundantly clear that it was a calling, but He could just as easily have answered my prayer by granting me peace in either foregoing the conference or spending the extra money. God doesn't always give us exactly want we want or expect, but He is no man's debtor and richly blesses those who put their faith in Him.

I Am a Witness

God recently performed an amazing work in the life of someone close to me. It was so remarkable that merely witnessing it was a gift. The details are not mine to share, but I hope it's evident in every post that my focus here is not on the details surrounding the gifts, but on the nature of the Giver. The gifts point to God, and my purpose in discussing them is to acknowledge the source and glorify Him.

I walked alongside someone for over a year as they faced turmoil, grief, and uncertainty. A fellow Christian, this person prayed about her situation, sought guidance from scripture, spent time in self-examination, and made earnest attempts to change things for the better. In summary, she acted in good faith to address the cause of her pain, and yet it all came to nothing. My own efforts were even less productive. Though I too sought to view the circumstances from a Biblical perspective, there was nothing I could do to effect any change. I could only listen, empathize, encourage, and pray. There was nothing else to be done. The best human efforts had failed. It was apparent that only God could provide any measure of relief, and it seemed His response throughout months of prayers was, "No." So I watched, frustrated, heartbroken, and helpless, as things spiraled downward toward tragedy.

And then, when all seemed utterly hopeless, God suddenly intervened. In an instant, everything changed. She literally went to bed one evening in a state of despair and woke to find that God had not only made things better, but had completely redeemed the situation. God had done "immeasurably more" than we could imagine. The change has been so stunning that in the midst of my joy, I find that I am still adjusting to the new reality because it is so different from what I thought possible.

But God is not limited by what we consider possible, and if, in His providence, He chooses to delay, our lack of understanding should not cause us to doubt or lose hope. I am not suggesting that waiting for His answer is easy. On the contrary, it can be difficult and discouraging, but in His wisdom, God chooses when and how to intervene, and though I have often been perplexed, I have not ever had sufficient grounds to doubt His faithfulness.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my favorite scene in the movie The African Queen. As Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart make their treacherous journey down the Ulanga river toward Lake Victoria they come to a place where the river all but disappears. Though they know the river eventually pours into Lake Victoria, all that is visible from their vantage point is a maze of marshes. The water becomes so shallow they are forced to get out of the boat and pull it by hand as they attempt to navigate through the swamps. When the boat becomes bogged down in the mire and they can go no further, they are convinced all hope is lost. Disheartened, exhausted, and unable to find their way, they collapse into the boat. Katherine Hepburn's character, a missionary, offers up a prayer, but is so certain of their fate, it is a funereal prayer--she doesn't even ask God to deliver them. Indeed, all does seem hopeless, but as the camera pans back, the audience can see the heroes are only a few hundred yards from the free-flowing river. The fact that they are unable to see it doesn't change the fact that the river is there, but despite their best efforts they have been unable to find their way to higher water on their own. And then, in an instant, everything changes. It begins to rain, and when they awake they find their boat has become dislodged and has drifted into the river. Better still, they can see Lake Victoria in the distance. They have not only been rescued from tragedy, but are in sight of what they are seeking.

The parallels between this scene and what I recently witnessed are striking. The river was there all along, but she was unable to get to it on her own. When all human strivings had failed, God redeemed the situation in a moment, and there can be no question as to the source of her deliverance.

A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

This past week marked the celebration of both Mother's Day and my son's birthday. Any attempt to describe what a blessing my son is to me would wear out my keyboard and deplete my vocabulary, so I'm not even going to try. However, one of the blessings of parenthood is that it gives us a better understanding of God's love for us. Through Christ, we are God's beloved children, and our love for our children gives us a taste of the immensity, depth, and steadfast nature of God's love for us.

My love for Zack is unchangeable and unwavering. No amount of disobedience, failure, foolishness, or mistakes will ever diminish my love for him. And though I cheer him on through triumphs and am pleased when he makes the right choices, neither of those things make me love him any more, because I love him all the time, just the same.

I rejoice when he rejoices, and my heart aches for him when he is anxious or sad. I enjoy being with him, laughing with him, and watching him master new skills and ideas. I do my best to help him discover his God-given talents and encourage him to pursue and develop them. I want to know what's on his heart and mind—good or bad. I can appreciate the position expressed in Isaiah 49:25, "I will contend with those that contend with you."

It brings me great pleasure to make him happy and fulfill his wishes, and yet I often withhold seemingly good things he wants because I know they won't be good for him in the long run. In short, his welfare, his growth, and his future are always in the forefront of my mind. Sometimes that means I have to discipline him, disappoint him, or insist he do things he'd rather not…and often he doesn't appreciate or understand why because he is unable to see the big picture.

Of course, my love for Zack can only provide me with an imperfect image of a perfect God's perfect love, but it's still a good gift.

I'm No Cry Baby

Really, I’m not. I get sad and hurt just like everyone else, but it’s rare I cry about it. Not because I’m cold-hearted or brave; it’s just not my normal response. I’m more likely to cry from anger or exhaustion, but even then it has to be pretty extreme. I’m not particularly sentimental either, though I will admit to shedding a tear or two at the hands of Hallmark, a handful of sappy songs, and a few movies I was suckered into watching (OK, I sobbed during E.T. in 7th grade, but it was an isolated incident). Those sorts of tears are usually shed begrudgingly because I feel I’ve been manipulated, like someone jerked my emotions around for the sake of the emotion, and I get annoyed with myself for playing into it.

But there are tears that spring from a deeper well, and they invariably begin within the first verse or two of a hymn or praise song. Whether it's one of my favorites or one that I'd never choose, something about hearing and singing the words floods my soul with joy, and the tears just flow. And it's not sentimentality. The "story" of an innocent man suffering on a cross for the sake of others is Hollywood-quality sentimental gold, but to confess out loud that "it was my sin that held Him there" and "His wounds have paid my ransom" transcends sentimentality. It’s substantive, and it's personal. An audible confession of my great need and His great mercy. And it doesn't stop there. There are so many songs that beautifully express our weaknesses ("Just as I am...with many a conflict, many a doubt/fighting fears within, without…"), affirm His providence and faithfulness ("Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been/granted in what He ordaineth?"), rejoice in the beauty of His creation ("…I consider all that Your hands have made/every newborn's eyes, every new sunrise…"), and extol His majesty (“…only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee/perfect in power, in love, and purity”). There are more examples, of course, but the common thread through all of the songs is worship. My friend Maria summed it up nicely when she said, "it's the realization of who God is and what He has done" that moves us members of the Kleenex Club to tears.

Even so, I have often wished I could turn off the faucet. First of all, it's uncomfortable, and I don't mean lump-in-the-throat uncomfortable. Crying makes people uncomfortable, and spontaneous crying can leave people wondering how to respond. Which makes them uncomfortable. I think. Or maybe I just assume that. Either way, it makes me uncomfortable. In fact, it makes me so uncomfortable that I've developed all sorts of techniques over the years to disguise the tears (fanning myself, staring at the ceiling, pretending there is something in my eye, "allergies!"). Yes, I know I'm not fooling anyone, but thanks for playing along with me. Secondly, my ability to literally sing His praises is hindered when I have to pause to compose myself every few lines, and it's frustrating.

Still, I am certain my tears are a gift. Years ago, I pled my case to God, "please take these tears away; let me sing to You and of You without crying," and He answered that prayer. I stood in church the following Sunday and sang and felt…nothing. God was still there, of course, but my spirit was unmoved. I quickly retracted my prayer and resigned myself to a lifetime of smeared mascara. For whatever reason, God has hard-wired me to respond to worship with tears, so my tears must be God-ordained. Do they sometimes make me uncomfortable? Sure, but Jesus never said, "follow me, and you'll never feel uncomfortable." In fact, just the opposite is true, but mostly because we waste so much time and energy focusing on ourselves and how we are perceived rather than focusing on Christ. As for my desire to sing through a hymn without crying, it is apparently more important to me than it is to God. If God wanted me to sing, uninterrupted by tears, He'd make it possible. Since it rarely happens, I have to conclude that He values my tears more than my performance. So if you spot me with watery eyes and a red nose, chances are I’m fine. I'm merely expressing my love for God and gratitude for His love for me. So please join me in praising Him…and could you pass me a tissue?

My Son at the Cross

I count it a great blessing and privilege to work at school where we celebrate Easter break and gather together as a campus for a special Easter Chapel. At one point during Chapel yesterday, our principal simply played a recording of "Amazing Grace" and asked students to reflect upon Easter and pray. A church group had just finished a short play depicting the events surrounding the resurrection, and a wooden cross from their production remained on the stage. Students were given the option of praying in their seats or coming up to the foot of the cross to pray, and handfuls of students in grades K-8 took turns coming up to the cross. I love seeing and hearing children pray, but seeing my own son, kneeling at the cross with his head bent in earnest prayer, is an image that was burned into my heart yesterday, and I will treasure it always.

I will treasure it not merely because it was a poignant picture to tuck away in my memory, but because of the truths wrapped in the imagery. Indeed, Zack would have been just as close to Christ sitting in his seat, and his prayers would have been just as acceptable to God. The cross the children gathered around holds no power or significance apart from whom and what it represents, but seeing him kneeling there was a beautiful picture of my young son's relationship with Christ and his understanding of the gospel. I have no idea what words his prayer contained, but I do know he has accepted Christ and has an understanding (far beyond my understanding at his age) of what it means to be a child of God. I have many hopes, dreams, and prayers for my son, but that Zack would know and follow Christ has always been my greatest desire for him. God's answer to that prayer is precious to me, and the mental picture I now have of Zack at the foot of the cross is a gift.

Skating Through Life Epilogue

Anyone who knows me probably knows by now that I fell at the skating rink and ended up sporting an arm sling. That's right, I published a post on learning to skate the morning of the 19th and took a pretty good tumble that same evening. After spending Thursday night and most of the day Friday unable to fully extend or bend my left arm, grasp anything with my left hand, or otherwise use my left arm in routine ways (hmmmm...maybe I should have this checked out?) I finally relented and went to the doctor after work on Friday. As it turned out, I broke my elbow...a little. Basically, a bone in my forearm bumped into a bone in my elbow and chipped a piece off (it is somewhat disconcerting to know there is a piece of bone floating around inside me, but several of my nurse friends have assured me that it's okay). Apparently, the treatment for this type of injury is pretty simple. They gave me something to reduce the swelling and some very nice pain medication and put my arm in a sling. The doctor said it would take about four weeks to heal, but I could try taking the sling off after about a week. During that time, it was really amazing to see how inter-dependent our body parts are. I learned I had taken my left elbow for granted all these years and was especially surprised to discover that even tasks that didn't rely on my elbow directly could affect it indirectly (my "discovery" of these things was usually marked with an "owwww!").

I picked this week's featured gift Friday morning. After a week of flipping my head upside down to fix my hair and employing a variety of creative techniques to get dressed, I was positively giddy when I was able to lift my bent arm over my head and bend my arm behind my back. Our human bodies are imperfect and vulnerable, but our Creator has designed them with a vast capacity for healing. I am very thankful that mine is healing well and quickly.

p.s. I have to admit I was a bit sheepish about discussing the source of my injury at first. In addition to the blog post, I had shared the story with several people at work that morning, and there was a part of me that was afraid my setback could be seen as evidence I shouldn't have been skating in the first place. There was a nasty voice in my head that suggested God hadn't been calling me out of my comfort zone at all, or worse…He had called me out just to set me up for a literal fall. But in my heart, I knew that voice was wrong. A Father that loves me enough to redeem me for His own is not a Father that sets His children up to fail for the sake of failure. In His love He does allow them to experience pain, difficulty, trouble, and failure, but all within His perfect plan. If God is loving and sovereign--and I believe He is--my broken elbow was ordained by Him for a specific purpose. My challenge was to discern what I was to take away from the experience. In the process, I've discovered a few more "gifts" I need to share with you this week.

Though I fell hard enough to break a bone, I got back up and immediately continued skating. There was only enough time to go around once more, and I was determined I would not end the night with a fall. Afterwards, I even ran out on the rink in my socks to join a handful of middle school girls in "The Cupid Shuffle." I don't say this to boast. I'm stunned. A year ago, my reaction to the fall would have been anger, maybe tears, and a vow to never, ever, EVER go skating again. The fact that I didn't respond that way is proof of God at work in me. Cool.

The fear of injury fits right in with my fear of failure and lack of control. Getting injured is basically failure that hurts. Though God allowed this injury, He limited it to something relatively minor, and now that I've experienced "failure that hurts," I'm not so afraid of it anymore.

I've also learned that while it's important to exercise reasonable caution, the possibility of failure is not sufficient grounds to shy away from new experiences. For years, I've boasted of never breaking bone, but my clean injury record could be largely attributed to the fact that I rarely did anything. What a waste. This past week, several kids at the school where I work asked me how I hurt my arm, and I kind of liked being able to reply, "I was roller skating."

Skating Through Life

I've been skating through life. Oh, less than a year ago I would have denied it. I would have pointed to the countless tasks I juggled between home, family, church, and work and been quite indignant. But God was never fooled, and last fall I came to the unsettling, but unshakable, realization that my constant state of self-imposed busyness was a convenient excuse to dodge His call to step outside my comfort zone.

In my comfort zone, I am capable and competent and rarely make any mistakes. I pretty much know what to expect there, so it's easy to operate under the illusion that I'm in control. Success is key, so it's essential I stick to tasks that I consistently perform well. I will try new things, but will quickly abandon them if I don't catch on right away. Risk, failure, uncertainty, dependence, and vulnerability are all unwelcome. In short, the standard in my comfort zone is perfection, and I have served the idol of perfectionism for most of my life. As a result, I have limited my usefulness to God and foolishly trusted in my own efforts rather than God working in me and through me. Instead of serving God boldly, I have held back and avoided new experiences out of fear and a lack of faith.

Now God is pulling me out of my comfort zone and calling me to venture out in new directions. It's exciting, but it's a struggle. As much as I want to be obedient, I know I can't do it in my own strength and am prayerfully relying on Him to change me. It's a daily choice, a daily battle. A daily exercise in faith: serve God or serve the idol of perfectionism, and I'm still in training.

So when my friend Jen suggested we take our kids skating, I thought it would be a fun way to practice saying, "no" to perfectionism. I had given skating a try in junior high, but gave it up after an hour or two (failure!). But that was the old me, and I was determined to give it a try and not give up this time. The first night we went, I took my place on "the wall," shakily scooting along with a handful of kids that had a much shorter distance to fall. I felt anything but capable and competent and though I didn't fall, I really didn't do any actual skating, and I definitely wasn't in control. But it became sort of a quest for me, a challenge to persevere in something that didn't come easily. So I bought a pair of skates a few days later and skidded up and down the hallway on my hardwood floors for two nights in a row. By the next skate night, I was slow and unsteady and even fell once, but I was skating, and by the next one I was going fast enough to get tired and sore and only grabbing the wall (or Jen's arm) two or three times a lap.

So, yes, my good and perfect gift this week is learning to skate. On the surface, it seems pretty insignificant compared to the other things God is calling me to do, but the underlying principle is the same. God answered my prayer and enabled me to respond to a challenge in a way that was completely contrary to my nature. With His help, I faced fear, persevered through failure, and refused to be a slave to perfectionism...and all I had to do was ask.