My Favorite Christmas Memory . . .

 

There is a quiet lull at Kirkhaven right now.  The turkey is in the oven,  casseroles and salads are assembled, and a mountain of potatoes have been peeled and diced for their traditional garlic mashing.  My husband is outside splitting wood so our Christmas Eve fireplace will crackle warmly all evening.

Later it will be busy and loud. 

Later friends and family will be laughing and fellowshipping around a greenery-bedecked table. 

Later three poodles and one frisky bird-dog-puppy will be dutifully keeping watch for any dropped morsel (or any secreted tidbit) of deliciously aromatic Christmas Eve feast.  

But right now Kirkhaven is quiet, so I have a moment to fulfill a promise I made to my dear friend Janice Lewis before the weekend celebration begins.

Janice posted a suggestion on facebook and I promised to reply.  She asked people to share a special Christmas memory they had.  I answered that I was working on a reply and would post it soon.  So here is my answer, dearest Janice.  Here is my favorite Christmas memory:

Now in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus, that a census be taken of all the inhabited earth.  This was the first census taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.  And everyone was on his way to register for the census, each to his own city. 

Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, in order to register along with Mary, who was engaged to him, and was with child.  While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth.  And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night.  And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened.  But the angel said to them:

 "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 

"Glory to God in the highest,

And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased."

When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, "Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us."  So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger.  When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child.  And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds.

But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. 

The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them.   Luke 2:1-20

The Christmas story is so simple. 

So elegant. 

So plain. 

It is the story of the King of the Universe . . . the Perfect Lamb of God . . . being born in a lowly stable. 

Sleeping in a feeding trough. 

Visited and venerated by rough, earthy shepherds.

It wasn’t what people were expecting, however.

It wasn’t exactly how people would have planned it. 

There were things missing from the picture

. . . a warm, snuggly cradle

. . . a fire at the hearth

. . . family and friends gathered to celebrate

. . . the smell of savory meat roasting on the fire

. . . the rich, comfortable sound of bread being kneaded and baked. 

The prophets had spoken of an unusual birth and an unusual life and an unusual death for the coming messiah. . . but somehow people had expected something different. 

Something more familiar. 

Something deserving of a king.

I always decorate my Christmas tree with gold and red and white.  We have lots of lights and snowmen and greenery scattered about the house.  We always have a pile of gifts under the tree.  And we always eat a Christmas feast.  There are tons of wonderful memories I have collected from all of my lovely Christmases.

But the thing I remember most is the brown of the stable. 

And the rough wood of the manger. 

The shepherds who saw angels. 

And the quiet, pensive expression of a young mother holding a tiny, swaddled King. 

My King.

Because sometimes Christmas isn’t always perfect. 

Perhaps some people we love will be absent from our Christmas table.

Perhaps harsh words still echo in our minds. 

Perhaps our Christmas greetings and our heartfelt words of blessings are not welcome messages to some friends and family we love. 

Perhaps there are things missing from the picture this year.

Some households don’t always look like a Normal Rockwell painting.

But the King is there.

The One born in a manger.

The One who lived much heartache.

The One who died on a cross.

Who has believed our message?

And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot,

And like a root out of parched ground;

He has no stately form or majesty

That we should look upon Him,

Nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.

He was despised and forsaken of men,

A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;

And like one from whom men hide their face He was despised,

and we did not esteem Him.
Surely our griefs He Himself bore,

And our sorrows He carried;

Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,

Smitten of God, and afflicted.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities;

The chastening for our well -being fell upon Him,

And by His scourging we are healed.

All of us like sheep have gone astray,

Each of us has turned to his own way;

But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all

To fall on Him.
He was oppressed and He was afflicted,

Yet He did not open His mouth;

Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,

And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,

So He did not open His mouth . . .

Yet He Himself bore the sin of many,

And interceded for the transgressors.   Isaiah 53

My favorite Christmas memory, dearest Janice, is Him.

The King of the Universe come to earth as a tiny babe

. . . born in a manger

. . . destined to die on a cross. 

He is always there as I decorate my home for this joyous season. 

He is always there as I buy and wrap the gifts. 

He is always there as I prepare the meal and light the Christmas candles.

He is always there when my home fills with family and friends.

And He is always there when things are missing.

Him.

It's Him I remember most.

And I treasure the memory.

When there is beauty and love and celebrating,

I can feel Him laughing.

And when there is heartache and sorrow and pain,

I can feel His tender Love.

In all of it He is there.

Glory to God in the Highest!

On earth peace . . . goodwill . . . to all!

Can you see Him too?

We

Thursday, December 17th is our wedding anniversary.  I have been married for more than half of my life.  And as I think about our years together, I am not feeling sentimental or sappy or teary.  I am not wondering, "Wow, where has the time gone?"  Instead, a rich, deep contentment fills my heart and wraps around my soul like a soft, warm blanket.  I have been married for 26 years to my best friend.  What could be better than that?

I know that when you are young you dream about a "knight in shining armor" sweeping you off your feet.  But I am older now, and fairy tales just seem too shallow and crass.  I don't need to be charmed and dazzled.  Things like that are too fragile.  I prefer real things, like honesty, generosity, and humor.  And enduring things like strength of character and wisdom.  My husband is much more real and much more interesting than a storybook prince.  He is a very good man.

I treasure the memories we have together.  And I love the history we have built.  But the things I enjoy most are the moments we have now.  This day.  This project.  This fireside chat.  I have time to savor things now.  These just might be our best years yet.

So here are some things that I love about us right now.


Only I can finish his sentences.
Only he might guess where I have lost my reading glasses or my keys . . . again.
Only I know when he is really happy or when he has been really hurt.
Only he knows the difference between my "happy quiet" and my "sad quiet."

We can be just as content sitting together on our back porch as we are sitting side-by-side on the deck of a cruise ship.
We are both a bit eccentric.
We both love beautiful things.
And we both find great satisfaction in a job well done.

We struggle through the hard things together and we relish the lovely things together.
We work together.We relax together.

Together is pretty much who we are.

I really have no idea what the future has in store,but I know that I want to spend it with my husband.
My best friend.

“We”
is so much richer and fuller
than just him
or just me.

And he loves me.
And I love him.
What could be better than that?

Cinderella with her prince and glass slipper never had it this good.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Seeking But Not Striving

Puppies don’t pose.  They romp and pounce and chew.  They stick their noses into holes.  They chase after mysterious scents that only they can smell.  They rarely come when you call them.  They usually dash into places they shouldn’t.  Sometimes, for a split second, they might pause to wonder . . . but puppies do not pose. 

If you want to photograph a puppy, you have to turn your camera onto the “action” setting and just start clicking.  You’ll get tons of random pictures . . . blurred noses, floppy ears, waggy backsides . . . Getting just the right picture framed just the right way is a futile endeavor.  Composing a photograph of a puppy is impossible.  Nothing about a puppy is composed.

But if you are looking for something other than a perfect composition . . .

maybe something funny . . .

or something sweet . . .

or something nostalgic . . .

or something poignant . . .

then you will probably find it.

Mixed in with all the uncoordinated, mis-aligned, uncalculated, blurred images that you snapped on the run, you will find some treasures that you never could have orchestrated.  Moments that simply happened . . . and you simply happened to catch them.

But if you are not willing to lay aside the schedule

and turn off the television

and walk away from the computer

and set aside the cell phone

and find a place where a leash isn’t necessary

and get your shoes muddy

and look for more than you can see

and hope for more than you have known

and believe that an aimless stroll with a puppy isn’t wasted time

then you won’t catch a thing.

"Ask, and it will be given to you;

seek, and you will find;

knock , and it will be opened to you.

For everyone who asks receives,

and he who seeks finds,

and to him who knocks it will be opened."

Jesus 

Matt 7:7-8 (NASB)

Perhaps the most daring thing we can do is admit that life isn’t about perfect compositions.   

The real beauty is unscripted.

And the real gift is knowing the Giver.

And the real art is knowing what really matters.

Cease striving and know that I am God . . .

Psalms 46:10 (NASB)

 

 

 

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Being Shushed: Disposition and Passion and Quietness

Does God care about our disposition?

Is there a proper disposition for a Christian?

What part does passion play in the life of a Christian?

Does God Care About Our Disposition?

Our disposition . . . the posture of our inner person . . . directs the nature of our character.
It establishes the perspective of our will.
It is the launching pad for our behavior and speech.
We live from our disposition.

For example, if we are surly and sullen of disposition, our actions and speech proceed from a dark, angry place. If our disposition is fearful and timid, we do and speak things that attempt to keep us safe and curry favor with those who could hurt us. If our disposition leans towards a crass, bawdy tenor, we speak and do things that delight brassy people but embarrass or insult those who are more conservative and reserved.

I believe God cares very much about our disposition.

It can be a springboard for wisdom, discernment, and works of compassion . . . if is seasoned with the Truth of God’s Word and the counsel of the Holy Spirit.

It can, however, be an impetus for all manner of hurtful, damaging things . . . if it isn’t bowed in conscious submission to the Lord of All.


Is There a Proper Disposition for a Christian?

Paul, in the book of Philippians, dared to speak about the proper disposition of a Christian.
I say “dared to speak” because there is a popular notion in today’s church:
God loves everyone,
accepts everyone just like they are,
and desires that everyone feel free and comfortable in their own skin.

There is an idea that God covers any shortcomings of our dispositions (or personalities)
with His grace
or His forgiveness
or His understanding
without expecting us to make any changes at all.

Some argue that since He created us, He delights in our quirks . . . even if they don’t lean toward purity.

Therefore, following in this line of thinking, we must be dutiful children. We must restrain from any expectations or any admonitions concerning righteous living and its impact upon our disposition. The passage from Philippians dispels this popular myth of I’m okay - you’re okay - no need to fret.

If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death-- even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed--not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence--continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life--in order that I may boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor for nothing. Phil 2:1-16 (NIV)

God does love us just like we are, but He desires that we become something more.
Something holy.
Something that requires daily submission, daily repentance, and daily change.
He wants us to become something like His Son.


What Part Does a Passionate Disposition Play 
in the Life of a Christian?

A passionate, sincere disposition is in vogue these days.

Passion is heroic.
We see passion as a noble motivation behind acts of generosity.
We think it brings depth and fire to human affection.
We believe it is necessary for athletes to win their competitions.
We look for it in our leaders because we feel that it conveys strength and conviction.
Passion is an acceptable defense . . . even in courts of law . . . to excuse menacing, hateful crimes of violence.

Passionate statements.
Passionate pursuits.
Passionate crusades.
Passionate beliefs.

In order to understand who a person is, we look to see what they are passionate about.
We believe that their passions define them.
And if someone is truly sincere in their passion, we deem them saintly.
Very passionate . . . sincerely passionate  =  very good.

But a love of passion can be misguided . . . or even bad.
A person can be passionately wrong.
Or passionately destructive.
Or passionately deceptive.
Or even passionately deceived.
Passion is the currency of the flesh.
And the flesh is in opposition to the Spirit . . . even if it is truly sincere.

But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh. For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please. Galatians 5:16-17

Paul lists the deeds of the flesh (Galatians 5:19-21,). Note the heavy tones of a passion in each one of them:

immorality,

impurity,

sensuality,

idolatry,

sorcery,

enmities,

strife,

jealousy,

outbursts of anger,

disputes,

dissensions,

factions ,

envying,

drunkenness,

carousing,

and things like these,

of which I forewarn you . . .

Then he lists fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-24).

love,

joy,

peace,

patience,

kindness,

goodness,

faithfulness,

gentleness,

self-control

Fruits of the spirit do not speak of passion and of noise.
They can never be manufactured in the human heart . . . or the human disposition . . . by passionate effort.
 They are things that can only come from a quieted spirit.
Quieted from its loud boastings.
Quieted from its unsated desires.
Quieted from its worrying apprehensions.
Quieted from its own sense of purpose and destiny.

The fruits of the Spirit can only come from a spirit that kneels in the presence of The Holy One and says, “You, Lord . . . instead of me.”

Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. (Galatians 5:24-25)

Passion may be fun and exciting and temporarily satisfying.
It may even be poignantly inspiring when it is sincere.
But it is also shallow and fickle and leaves you ultimately emptied.
Passion cannot buy God.
And it cannot buy the things of God.
And it cannot convey God’s character or His benefits or His Life to others.
Because passion is all about self.
And God is about so much more.

But what about Christianity? 
What about a passionate pursuit of God? 
And about being passionately pursued by Him?

Here are some quotes from Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest. I leave them to conclude this blog about disposition and passion and quietness:

Oh, the clamour of these days!

Everyone is clamouring - for what?

For the Son of God to be put to death.

There is no room here for the Son of God just now,

no room for quiet holy communion with the Father . . .

Most of us can do things if we are always at the heroic pitch

because of the natural selfishness of our hearts,

but God wants us at the drab commonplace pitch,

where we live in the valley

according to our personal relationship to Him . . .

Whether or not I hear God's call

depends upon the state of my ears;

and what I hear

depends upon my disposition . . .

The passion of Christianity is

that I deliberately sign away my own rights

and become a bond-slave of Jesus Christ.

Until I do that,

I do not begin to be a saint.

Psalms 46:10-11

Lesa K. Reid

Being Shushed: Psalm 103

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And all that is within me, bless His holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

And forget none of His benefits;

I heard the hammering and sawing before I saw the carpenters.  It is the rhythmical noise of things being made.  Built.  Like a song . . . the percussion of hammer and spinning blade on wood . . . the melody of measurements being communicated from the top of the ladder down to the man at the saw . . . the harmony of intermittent laughter as craftsmen enjoy their work.  People will live in this house one day.  Perhaps babies will be born.  Children might climb trees in the wooded back yard.  Maybe an aging couple will sit on the deck and look toward my East Tennessee ridges and find peace, solace, inspiration, rest.  Building is in the heart and soul of our family.  I love to walk down to the job site and just listen.  And watch.

Who pardons all your iniquities,

Who heals all your diseases;

Who redeems your life from the pit,

Who crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion;

Who satisfies your years with good things,

So that your youth is renewed like the eagle.

The hands of carpenters always fascinate me.  Rough, strong hands.  Cracked and dry from overexposure to the weather.  Often with fresh cuts next to faded, old scars.  They tell a story of hard work, dreams, artistry and skill earned through diligence and patience.  Hands that serve by giving things . . . things that become hidden from view or overlooked through familiarity or simply used without thought of the hands that made them. 

The Lord performs righteous deeds

And judgments for all who are oppressed.

He made known His ways to Moses,

His acts to the sons of Israel.

The Lord is compassionate and gracious,

Slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness.

He will not always strive with us,

Nor will He keep His anger forever.

He has not dealt with us according to our sins,

Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

 So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him.

As far as the east is from the west,

So far has He removed our transgressions from us.

It is deeply satisfying to live by the work of your own hands.  To dream and to create.  And at the end of the day, when everything has been cleaned up and put away, to see the progress that was made.   As I contemplate this holiday season that begins with the bounty and the warmth of Thanksgiving, it isn’t benefits or blessings that keep coming to my mind.  It is hands.  Father’s Hands.

Just as a father has compassion on his children,

So the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.

For He Himself knows our frame;

He is mindful that we are but dust.
As for man, his days are like grass;

As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.

When the wind has passed over it, it is no more,

And its place acknowledges it no longer.

But the lovingkindness of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear Him,

And His righteousness to children's children,

To those who keep His covenant

And remember His precepts to do them.

There are so many good things in my life that I cannot even begin to count them. 

But in all of the blessings . . .

And all the sweetness . . .

And even in the difficulties . . .

And especially in the sorrows . . .

It has been the Giver, not the gifts, that causes my heart to rejoice in grateful praise.

To walk hand-in-hand with the Creator of the universe . . .

And watch His handiwork . . .

And see His dreams being built . . .

And dream along with Him . . .

That is what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving.

To live in and with and by the Work of His Hands is a great and glorious blessing.

But to see and feel my tiny hand engulfed in His . . .

to simply be His . . .

that is the greatest blessing of all.

The Lord has established His throne in the heavens,

And His sovereignty rules over all.

Bless the Lord, you His angels,

Mighty in strength, who perform His word,

Obeying the voice of His word!

Bless the Lord, all you His hosts,

You who serve Him, doing His will.

Bless the Lord, all you works of His,

In all places of His dominion;

Bless the Lord,

O my soul!

May your Thanksgiving be filled with Him.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid 

Being Shushed: Revelations and Resolutions

When I got up this morning, the simple rhythm of my day unfolded with dependable routine . . . taking the poodles outside for their morning “potty walk” . . . chatting with my husband in his office about his current Bible study . . . taking my vitamins . . . pouring a cup of hot apple cider . . . putting some bread in the toaster . . . It was all so typical. So familiar. So comfortable.

Then as I began to open a jar of peach preserves, an image of my grandmother wandered into my mind. She was sitting on the front porch of her white farmhouse in the cool shade of a warm summer afternoon. I could hear a crisp snap . . . snap . . . snap . . . as her small, strong, wrinkled hands filled the large bowl in her lap with a pile of green beans for tomorrow’s Sunday dinner. I could see her snow-white hair neatly swirled into a tight bun, her old-fashioned black shoes perfectly laced, and her work apron spread generously over her stockinged knees. And I could almost feel the warm summer breeze wafting across Uncle Charles’s verdant cow pasture across the front yard.

Granmaw was thinking and I could see by the determination in her eyes that she had made a decision. “I’m of a mind to walk down to that house and set him straight,” she said in her clear, frail, determined voice. I knew she was talking about the hired hand that lived at the lower end of the dairy farm. Way back in the far pasture, past the chicken coop, down the hill from the milking barn. Granmaw kept a keen eye on this man’s children . . . their grooming, their behavior, the look of their cheeks . . . and she had decided that this man needed to tend to his household with a bit more diligence. Once Granmaw was “of a mind” to do something, she always did it.

As the nostalgic scene melted into a fog of pleasant memories, the still, quiet voice of the Holy Spirit gently guided me back into the realm of today. “What are you of a mind to do, dear?” He asked me simply.

The question hung in the air like fog hovering over the Smoky Mountain vista outside my kitchen window. Not challenging. Not demanding. Not even with a sense of exhortation. It was just a simple inquiry. So alone, in the solitude of my morning kitchen, I quieted my soul to see if I could find an answer. What was I of a mind to do?

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus . . . something Paul had said in one of his letters. (I found it later in Philippians chapter 2). I began to think that I was of a mind to do exactly what the Lord wanted me to do. But THAT . . . I full-well knew . . . was a loaded proposition.

I have heard so much bluster lately about the necessity of walking in the Grace of God. Legalism is touted as an extreme evil. Getting a deeper revelation of what God has already done for believers seems to be the latest craze. But lost in all that condemnation and revelation is my immediate necessity to see God and follow Him right now . . . right here . . . with what I already understand . . . through the circumstances that I face at this very moment. For sure I need to know Him more. For sure I need to grow in my maturity to manifest His character and His love. But there in my kitchen this morning, before the busyness of my day had an opportunity to start dictating my schedule, my life seemed to be clarified and invigorated by a calm, quiet, simple question:

“What are you of a mind to do, dear?”

Then I began to see why He was asking.

In the same way I had experienced the memory of Grandmaw on her front porch, I began to see the difficulties that have been crowding into my life . . . even the really hard things that have come just this past week. They lined up in perfect formation . . . one-by-one in my thoughts . . . like starched, polished soldiers ready for inspection. It was all very real. I began to feel the pain. Sorrow swelled and spilled into unsure places of my heart. Fear slinked darkly around the corners of unspoken doubts. Very much my life. And very much now.

“What are you of a mind to do, dear?” the Holy Spirit asked again . . . simply and quietly.

All I could think of was a simple answer.
“What are You of a mind to do, Lord?”
Nothing else came to mind. I knew I was answering a question with a question, but that was all I had.

Then I waited.
And listened.

In my younger years I would have answered His question differently. There would be a number of things I would be of a mind to do. I would quote scripture. I would pray. I would march onto the battlefield of sickness, sorrow, injustice, and fear with a sword in my hand, a hollerin’ war-cry on my lips, and fire in my heart . . . warring my way through to God’s glorious victory in every circumstance.

But I am of a mind to do things differently these days.
I am of a mind to be of His mind.
No matter what that looks like.

For thus the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, has said,

"In repentance and rest you will be saved,

In quietness and trust is your strength."

But you were not willing,

And you said, "No, for we will flee on horses,"

Therefore you shall flee!

"And we will ride on swift horses,

" Therefore those who pursue you shall be swift.

Isaiah 30:15-16 (NASB).

It has become very clear to me that what I am of a mind to do . . . is exactly what I will do.
My disposition, my thought processes, my opinions, and my personal resolve pretty much dictate my actions. And my actions pretty much reflect whom I trust
. . . whom I worship
. . . who I imitate.

So I have begun to take Isaiah 30:15-16 to heart.
And to mind.
And even to . . . disposition.
Here is what I see. It may seem overly simplified, but elegant simplicity is often what is needed in difficult, heart-rending circumstances.

I am of a mind to be:
repentant . . . to the point that change really happens
at rest . . . from striving and from strife
quieted . . . from complaining or boasting or justifying or speculating
trusting . . . in God alone
. . . at the expense of personal pride
. . . allowing no situation, no philosophy, and no relationship to broker my faith.

In repentance and rest is my salvation.
In quietness and trust is my strength.
I will leave the swift horses for those who need them.
I just need the Lord.

I am of a mind to believe the Lord.
To allow Him full reign in every nook and cranny and situation of my life.
To be changed by the Truth of Who He is and what He wants.

I am of a mind to be still . . . and know . . . that He is God.
Psalm 46:10

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Being Shushed: Un-muddling Truth

The Shushed Life Part 3: Un-muddling Truth

Sunrises and sunsets are two of my favorite things. From the time I was a small child, I have loved watching them. I remember getting up early Easter morning . . . while it was still dark . . . and watching the sky turn from purple-blue to red to orange to pink at our little church’s outdoor Sunrise Service. And I remember sitting with my dad on the the field bleachers, after playing second base on our community softball team, and simply being with him as the summer sun slipped behind the green tree-line of the park.

The best part about sunrises and sunsets is that you don’t have to be in any special place to see them. I thoroughly enjoy watching the sun come up through my bedroom window. And I stand outside on my front porch to watch it set over the tree-tops at the edge of our western meadow.

You don’t have to live anywhere special . . . or travel anywhere exotic . . . or earn any special credentials to enjoy sunrises and sunsets. They are always there . . . every day . . . for everyone . . . everywhere. You just have to be up early enough or stop hurrying long enough to watch them.

I think Truth is like that. It is there for everyone. All the time. As dependable as the sunrise and the sunset. And even more beautiful. But we can miss it.

I started reading my Bible the other day and turned to the book of 2 Timothy. It is one of my favorites because it is the last letter the apostle Paul wrote before he was martyred. In this book are the last words, last encouragements, and last counsel of a very great man . . . communicated to his beloved son-in-the-Lord.

So I started reading verses 1 and 2:

Paul,

an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God,

according to the promise of life in Christ Jesus,

To Timothy, my beloved son:

Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.

2 Tim 1:1-2 (NASB)

Then I looked at a commentary to see what Matthew Henry had to say about the first few verses. I was riveted by two simple sentences in his essay:

True believers have in every age the same religion as to substance. Their faith is unfeigned; it will stand the trial, and it dwells in them as a living principle.

I started thinking about all the things believers in Jesus cannot seem to agree upon. All the nuances of doctrine. All the interpretations of scripture. All the “special revelations” that I hear from preachers and see on Christian Bookstore bookshelves. It seems that we have done such a thorough job of muddling Truth that the clarity of Christian living has become lost in all of our cacophony and posturing.

Matthew Henry’s statement is so simple.
And clear.
And elegant.
And I think he is right.
All true believers . . . in any age . . . are of the same substance.
And there must be no muddling of what that really is.

First, our faith is unfeigned. It is genuine, sincere, real, not counterfeit, not hypocritical.

Second, our faith will withstand any trial. Steadfast. Sure.

Third, our faith is alive in everything we think and feel and believe and do. It is the breath and the heartbeat of who we are. It is not a dead assent. It is not a mysterious revelation. It is not an unattainable hope. It is a living principle.

There is quiet strength in a faith like that.
Real Christians.
Never giving up.
Living as honest testimonies of Jesus.
I have met people like that and am humbled by their living, active faith in God.

I think that is what Paul had on his heart as he began to pen his words to Timothy.

And I think Isaac Watts believed that too when he wrote the words to this hymn in the late 1600’s. The third verse is sung as a doxology in many churches . . . of various denominations . . . even now .

True believers in every age . . .

From all that dwell below the skies

Let the Creator's praise arise!

Let the Redeemer's grace be sung

In every land, by every tongue!

Eternal are thy mercies, Lord!

Eternal truth attends thy word!

Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,

Till sun shall rise and set no more.

Praise GOD, from whom all blessings flow!

Praise Him, all creatures here below!

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!

Praise FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST!

Amen and Amen.

- Isaac Watts, born in 1674

With every morning sunrise,
‘till He comes again . . .
grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord
be unto
us
all.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Being Shushed: To Be Changed

The melody of the Gospel is simple and poignant. It is a song of love and sacrifice and transcendence that has the power to change the human heart.

But sometimes we don’t want to be changed. We want to be moved. We want to be inspired. We want to be entertained. But we do not want to be changed. We prefer to harmonize with a different music . . . sing lyrics that are popular and comfortable . . . rather than submit to the Eternal Voice that calls us into harmony with God.

My last blog was about being still.
This one is about being changed.
And change cannot happen without stillness.

Generosity.
Wisdom.
Patience.
Moral uprightness
Peace.
Steadfastness.
Hope.

These are things that come from the broken, quiet, still place where God changes a heart.
They are not earned through the school of hard knocks.
They cannot be bought in the marketplace of busy schedules and success.
They will not seek approval from applauding, admiring audiences.
They do not engender the kind of public popularity that brings notoriety and fame.
They are vulnerable.
They are quiet.
They are dependent upon God’s Word because they have no influence or power of their own.
Their posture is bent.
Their demeanor is prudent.
They are usually hidden.
And they are utterly harmonious with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

There is a different melody playing in the world today, however, that is in discord with God’s Gospel.
It is boastful and craves fame.
It publicly accuses others of the very things it does in secret.
It requires unwavering allegiance.
It is harmless as a dove when basking in adulation, but it is a raging bull when uncovered by Truth.
It continually conducts warfare, but never personally shows up on the battlefield – preferring to leave the casualties to its foot soldiers.
It hates the 10 Commandments because it feeds upon moral relativism.
It fogs spiritual Truth with re-definitions of meekness, goodness, grace, and love.
It seeks to benefit where it has not worked, yet proclaims nobility for its commonness.
It calls for an end to judgmentalism, yet exalts itself by denigrating others.
It promises mysteries for those who seek, but its revelations leave you lost and confused.
It values wit or charisma or beauty or anything else with which it can buy influence and power.
It comes from a place of loud, busy, deceptive clamor that hates God’s quietness.

I don’t usually lean toward negative things in my blog. But I hear an attack on the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is brokered by satan’s kingdom and sometimes bought by the church. I believe that we are seeing spiritual days like the prophet Elijah saw. He saw the rule of King Ahaz. He understood the power of Jezebel. He was even afraid. Here is part of Elijah’s story as recorded in 1 Kings 19:9-13:

And there he went into a cave, and spent the night in that place; and behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and He said to him,

"What are you doing here, Elijah?" 

So he said, "I have been very zealous for the Lord God of hosts; for the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword. I alone am left; and they seek to take my life." 

Then He said, "Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord."

And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind;

and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake;

and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire;

and after the fire a still small voice. 

So it was, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. Suddenly a voice came to him, and said,

"What are you doing here, Elijah?"

So I am speaking.
And I am pleading to believers . . . followers . . . disciples of Jesus the Messiah.

Be still.
Be quiet.
Listen.
To the music of our lives, our relationships, our beliefs, our testimonies . . .
To the call of God to be different . . .

It isn’t enough to only be inspired by God.
We must be changed by Him.
And change only happens in the place of holy stillness

. . . where the only sound we hear is the melody of God’s Gospel

. . . and the only sound we make is the deep groaning of repentance.

That is where harmony is born.
Harmony that is pure.
Harmony that is True.
Harmony that finds its fame in the cross of Christ and its hope in the Gospel it brings.
The real Gospel.
Not necessarily the popular one.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 
He was in the beginning with God. 
All things came into being through Him, 
and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. 
In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. 
The Light shines in the darkness, 
and the darkness did not comprehend it.

John 1:1-5 (NASB)

Be still before the LORD

and wait patiently for him;

do not fret when men succeed in their ways,

when they carry out their wicked schemes.

Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret--it leads only to evil.

For evil men will be cut off, but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land.

Psalms 37:7-9

Are we being still?
Are we hearing His voice?
Are we being changed?
With whom are we harmonizing?
What are we doing here?

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid

Being Shushed: To Be Still

I love puddles.  

I see such stillness in them.  
Even the chaos of concentric rings colliding from randomly plopping drops has a sense of serenity about it.  
There is an unexplainable order to it.  
Soothing rhythm without meter.   

And when the shower passes, the puddles stay a little while 
. . . quietly mirroring the clean, rain-washed day.  
So beautiful.

I need this kind of serenity.  Especially in the middle of life’s storms.  

. . . things dropping out of brooding skies, colliding with other things, splashing all over the place, creating ripples that bump into more ripples . . . discomposing my plans . . . tussling my emotions . . . 

There is something elegant about a heart that reflects serenity in difficult places. 

Stillness isn’t very trendy.  Brashness is.  Speak your mind.  Be yourself boldly.  Make an impact.  Insist that people always know where you’re coming from.  Live out loud and live loudly.

From Mirriam-Webster’s dictionary, here are some descriptions of "brash:"

full of fresh, raw vitality;

uninhibitedly demonstrative or energetic;

lacking restraint and discernment;

done in haste without regard for consequences;

aggressively self-assertive;

piercingly sharp.

Passion is power for brash people.  Passion is their medium for expression and their means of persuasion.  And it is their validation of truth.

But I am discovering a rich life-treasure in things that are outside of the clamor.  Things that are not brash.  Things that must be drawn from a deep well of soul-quietness.  Things that mean very little when they are paraded about as trophies . . . but are profoundly meaningful when they stand as noble sentinels over a life well lived:

Perseverance.  

Hope.

Repentance.   

Integrity.  

Joy. 

Faith.

Goodness.

Wisdom.

These kinds of things come from brokenness instead of brashness.  They cannot be bought with passion.  They are courageous and astounding and heroic, but they must be slowly worked into the soil of our hearts in the quiet stillness where Truth changes things.  The working of them takes time.  Often causes pain.  But always brings Life.  The Life of God . . . from God . . . in us.

I know that God’s salvation is a gift; it cannot be earned.  And I know that the expression of His salvation in His children is as varied as the flowers in a field or the birds in the sky.  But I am also beginning to understand how shallow . . . and how very cheap . . . a brash faith can be. 

Holly stenciled a short Bible verse on Rachel’s “computer room” wall when she came to visit recently.   This verse has been resonating in my heart for several years, but seeing it written on my daughter-in-law’s wall was so beautiful.  

And quiet.  

And profound.

It is a kind of holy shushing.  
A solemn mandate to stop running and stop shouting and stop performing.  

So we can be quieted to hear.  
And see.  
And truly be changed 

. . .in the stillness of God’s Word 

. . . and in the Truth of who He really is.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid