"He (God) never talked vague, idealistic gas. When He said, 'Be perfect,' He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder - in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, (1952)
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Holy Spirit, Shower Upon Me...
At the beginning of the growing season, I splurged on a handy-dandy, six-setting nozzle for my water hose. Pardon me, as I must breathlessly, with flushed cheek, exclaim that it has changed my gardening life forever! I'll never again be without this fantastic accessory.
I have found that every setting is important. Each satisfying "click" of the end of the nozzle, with its descriptive label, has a distinct use in the garden.
Isa 58:11 And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden...
We are in a drought here in East Tennessee. And having thriving, well-watered gardens means a whole lot more than turning on a water hose, hooking your thumb on the opening for pressure-control, and "having at it". Various parts of the garden need various watering applications. Different plants need different watering technique. Sometimes the way a garden needs watering can be unique to the time of day. You don't want to throw water on everything in the heat of the afternoon sun.
And thus He waters me. Carefully. Thoughtfully. Thoroughly. Not too much (it runs off, not soaking my roots), not too little (I wither). Differently, each day. Sometimes a long drink. Other times, a quick, freshening mist. After all, He is the master-gardener, and I am His garden.
The other day, just for fun, I spun the dial on my handy-dandy, gidget-gadget water-nozzle-tool, and imagined each setting as a God-thing. What if....oh, what if....the Holy Spirit visited me, according to my need, and imparted to me:
a mist - ..."there went up a mist from the earth, refreshing the whole face of the ground..."
a shower - ...and there shall be showers of blessing....
a soaking - (in answer to prayer, ) "Gideon rose up early on the morrow, and thrust the fleece together, and wringed the dew out of the fleece, a bowl full of water."
a rinse - "wash me throughly from mine iniquity...
a bucket filler - "and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began speaking in tongues..."
a power wash (!) - "That he might sanctify and cleanse (the church) with the washing of water by the word..."
I went as far as my imagination dared, and still be within the boundaries of Biblical exegesis. I confess, watering my garden has never been a dull chore since!
A Reason-able God
Jas 3:17 But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, without uncertainty or insincerity.
A fitting subtitle to my post would be "The Call to Prayer". I'm sure James 3:17 has been used by some Bible teacher, somewhere, as a text for prayer, but I've never heard it done. All true wisdom comes from God, because God-in-Christ is the personification of Wisdom. Wisdom is a Person. Each word that can be used to describe heavenly wisdom, is also a sure adjective for God, as sure as you could describe me as having green eyes, small hands, and no tattoos. "The Sheila that comes from Tennessee is first a brunette, green-eyed, small hands, without tattoos or an expensive car."
"But the God that comes from above is first pure..." oh, His name is Holy! The next phrase that stops me in mid-breath is "open to reason".
"Come, let us reason together says the Lord."
"Test Me in this."
"Seek, and you'll find."
The perfect wisdom of God trumps my weak human reasoning every time, but still...He has no desire for monologue with me. He wants dialogue. He wants me to come reason with Him. He is open to hear my thoughts and questions - and in fact, that is the first step towards the aligning of my mind to His. If I'll just pray. If I'll just reason with Him. If I'll just speak to him without ambiguity, or insincerity.
I've been reading (again) the book "The Kneeling Christian". This book is an old classic, written by "An Unknown Christian". You just HAVE to love that. Somebody wanted not one penny of royalties from a book that has probably sold a half million copies by now.
Choice Bits:
Much secret prayer means much public power.
If God were to answer the words we repeated on our knees this morning, should we know it? Should we recognize the answer?
Why, the wonder is not that we pray so little, but that we can ever get up from our knees if we realize our own need; the needs of our home and our loved ones; the needs of our pastor and the church; the needs of our city....
When we stand with Christ in glory, looking o'er life's finished story, the most amazing feature of that life as it is looked back upon will be its prayerlessness.
What is prayer? It is a sign of spiritual life. I should as soon expect life in a dead man, as spiritual life in a prayerless soul. Our spirituality and our fruitfulness are always in proportion to the reality of our prayers.
Life's Little (and not-so-little) Messes
As much as I'd like to believe that I am one who follows through on my every task and committment, when I read the fine print of my days, I see much left unfinished. At point of fact, I could write a book, all of it in fine print, about things I've left undone - let's don't even include things I've done! I've made messes, big and small, some as a result of my doing, others a result of leaving important things undone. All my messes require clean-up. So do all of yours.
A few weeks ago, I was patrolling the house before leaving for church. Everyone else had left, finally, so I was the last to dash out the door, and lock up. Since someone usually ends up coming home with us, I wanted to make sure, for about the third time, that various rooms were as charming and trash-free as I had left them the last time I had checked them, probably a mere half an hour before.
To my distinct displeasure, I found a plate with crumbleys all over it, a glass with a half inch of milk in the bottom, and...of all things....an empty soda bottle. Where did it all come from, and who did it, and how did it materialize so quickly? I fell upon the mess, as a warrior to the battle. "In the Zone" does not begin to describe me, when I am intent on straightening up things. I'll automatically pour out Tim's tea before he is through, and put the glass in the dishwasher. I'll sweep around the feet of my family, while I dust the coffee table with the other hand, and put a stray book away with my toes. Honestly, all this is mostly mindless, and done without the first complaint. Ask any of my kids. I do it without realizing I am "working". I am almost always "working", and since that is the case, it is rather nice that 99% of it is hard-wired into my psyche, and thus doesn't bother me. I couldn't "not do it" if I tried.
This particular morning, however, I heard myself grumbling out loud to myself. I said, "I am so tired of following behind people in this house, cleaning up their mess."
It was then I experienced one of God's "suddenlies". Suddenly, He spoke. When He speaks suddenly, it cuts through the static. It arrests my attention.
He said: "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life."
No exaggeration, I hit my knees, right by the kitchen sink, and tears flowed in an instant. (How lovely to have been alone, just then, because I think I couldn't have NOT worshipped. Such divine wisdom, such understanding and love displayed to me could not have gone unacknowleged. I was late to church that day.)
I hadn't even realized that I'd been subconsciously toting a heavy load of "undone's" and "not-done-right's". I had left what I felt to be a few messes behind, figuratively speaking. I was in desperate need of a Father who loved me so much, He was willing to allow His goodness and mercy to come behind me and clean up. What is the mercy of God for, if it is not at the point of my need, the place of My Mess?
I wanted a God who was just that good, but I almost dared not believe it. That is a God too good to be true, in my graceless mind. A God so good to me, that sometimes He would not even punish me for an inadvertent mess. Surely His goodness and mercy would follow me, and simply clean it up. Oh, how many times has that happened, and I didn't even realize it? Just as not one member of my family would have realized that I cleaned up a mess for him or her that morning.
I certainly don't want to associate the beautiful, scandalous cross of Christ with a few breakfast crumbs. But facts are, the blood of Jesus covers it ALL - the large and the small messes. The cross is the only clean-up, the only solution. A mess is a mess is a mess, and small messes become life altering if left to accumulate.
Thank you, Jesus, for your goodness and mercy, following this mess called "Me"....all the days of my life. How I need You!
And What is YOUR Name?
"Behold, I have called thee by thy name, thou art Mine."
The surname Atchley is translated from the Old English Ac: meaning "oak", and Leah: "grove". An oak is the emblem of virtue and strength and resiliency. To ancient Christians, it also represented worship. The Atchley crest is the dragon, signifying patience in battle, leading to final victory.
My maiden name, Gilreath, is Scottish in origin. It means, "Servant of the King." Our crest is the dolphin. It is said that those who used the dolphin as a symbol had a fondness for music and that the emblem was one of charity and affection. "Aye, we are a lovin' bunch, the Gilreaths. An' a bunch of singin' fools."
My husband and I attended a Bible class, taught by a precious, learned, older man of God. This man was not at all the "airy fairy" type, yet he admonished us, "Find out what your name means, first name and last. It has prophetic significance." As fate would have it, before we had ever gotten into our car to attend this class, I had made up my mind that whatever I would be taught that day, I was going to put it into practical action. I was going to obey the Word spoken. I was tired of hearing, and not doing. There were other things expounded to us that day, and they too had to be acted upon. Finding out the meaning of our names was, by far, the easy part.
And so began my delight in Heraldry. I traced my husband's surname. I traced my maiden name, and found fresh evidence of my Scottish ancestry. Deeply Scottish ancestry. Whew. That explained alot about me, right there.
The joining of two people in marriage is the joining of two names under one. It isn't the elimination of my original name, but rather a blending of ancestry, DNA, and prophetic destiny under one person's name. With each marriage, as the family tree grows, the significance of both names are meant to come together. Ideally, marriage is to be the "best of both worlds", combined and bequeathed to the future offspring.
But for the Atchley-Gilreath combination, the blending isn't always automatic.
Instead of "rock, paper, scissors", my husband and I should figure out a way to play "Oak, dragon, dolphin" to settle disputes. We just can't figure out for the life of us what the rules would be. I guess dragon trumps everything. But then again, maybe dolphin lures dragon into the depths of the sea, and drowns him there.
On November 8th, 1986, the English boy married the Scottish lass, and both fought to be the boss of the other for several years. If we don't learn from history, it indeed repeats itself. In our case, we called an eventual truce. The English boy has learned not to be so overbearing, and the Scottish girl has learned that authority can be a Good Thing. Today finds us enjoying the "Pax Atchley-ia".
..."and the dolphin shall lay down with the dragon"... much as the lion will the lamb, someday.
I usually let the English win...temporarily...while muttering under my breath:
"longliveScotlandforever."
More Hours In My Day
(Daughter of Mine), forget not my law; but let thine heart keep my commandments: For length of days, and long life, and peace, shall they add to thee. Pr. 3
"Length of days AND long life"....this set me to thinking. Which is always either quite dangerous, or tiresome, or on a really good day, heady and exhilarating.
2008 is already more than half gone. And I have not accomplished, yet, some of what I wanted to accomplish by now. I don't want mere long life, I need length of DAYS. It could be a bit of a stretch, but maybe those two Proverbial phrases are not redundant. I've heard it taught that the Holy Spirit in Scripture is never redundant. Maybe "length of days" and "long life" are two separate but related blessings.
The whole world craves length of days. Everyone is in a hurry, seemingly unable to capture time, or use it to their advantage. To most, the days are not "long enough" to fit it all in. That is no small problem, no insignificant pain. Not being blessed with length of days means that worthy goals are left unrealized, because time runs out. It means that important relationships suffer irretrievably because of the rat race.
To the obedient, God promises not just long life, but length of days. Suddenly....we can breathe again. There is time again. He can accomplish this quiet miracle at any season of life, at any age; but the earlier we learn to simply obey Him without question, the more we can accomplish with our newly discovered, extra kairos time. Opportune time. Heck, He can even lengthen chronological, sweep-of-the-minute-and-hour-hand, clock time. He can hold back the sun for a day or a few moments. He can multiply our minutes. He can supernaturally stretch our resources. He can take our best effort, and create "effort squared". (I stole that notion from a dear friend, who plans to "grow old, squared". In other words, not just 7 X 2, but rather 7 X7. Not just old times two, but old times OLD AGAIN. Sassy old. Wise and eccentric old. I decided to join her "old squared" club. We'll grow old-squared together, I guess. Terrifying but hilarious thought, much like I imagine bungee-jumping to be.)
God can give us "effort squared". The outcome of "effort squared" equals far more than twice the amount of the effort. It equals results piled on results. It equals harvest-time, pressed down, shaken together, and running over. We can accomplish in a season the sort of ingathering that it would take others, less obedient to God, a lifetime to gather.
The sweetest part of this promise is not the long life. Or the length of days. To me, the sweetest part is the peace.
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