Too, Too Much!

            

            Ever had too much of a good thing? Recently I did. Coworkers had given me a hummingbird scatter garden. It was a bag of seed to sprinkle over up to 125 square feet—quite a lot of footage. Now, I don’t have that kind of space unless I start removing sod. But, I had a large clay pot, and I had a plan—create a mini hummingbird garden. What a good idea!

Many Seeds

            Maybe not.

            The first challenge was that it wasn’t only a bag of seeds. The bag included some light stuff that I suspect was to keep the seed dry. It also prevented me from knowing how many seeds I was sowing in my pot. My mini garden was a mystery for a while. Then it wasn’t.

            All kinds of wonderful, tiny plants started erupting. As exciting as that was, there is enough of my horticultural family background in me to know the perils of crowding. The pot needed thinning, yet I shrank from it. Pull some of those tender emerging plants? No, please no. As much as I didn’t want to, I finally thinned out the pot, saying “no” to too much of a good thing. I may need to do it again.

Too Many Plants

            I’m not only thinning out my pot, I’m thinking about thinning out my life as I work through Breathe, a Bible study by Priscilla Shirer about concepts of Sabbath rest. What and who is it hard for me to refuse? If I don’t get this or that done, is there some great loss I will face? How much stuff do I need? Can I turn my wanter way down or shut it off entirely? How do I learn to rest? When do I rest?

            I tend to dial down on the fourth commandment: Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. (Exodus 20:8, NIV) I am particularly bad about saying no to people and putting the brakes on doing things because I am a pleaser and a doer. I am learning, however, that that’s exactly how this commandment is to bless me, because all the commandments are to protect and bring joy to our lives. Humans are susceptible to overdoses of even good things.

            Could you use some help with margin, a Sabbath, and more true rest in your life? What are your struggles? The journey of faith includes a Sabbath rest. Do you agree? More on this later.

Slimy Lettuce and My Sloppy Green Shirt

                Do you ever get on a health kick? You know, when you must honestly admit that you’ve had one too many French Fries lately, that diet cola really isn’t a great choice compared to the sugared stuff, or that you’ve had a small mountain of those shiny foil-wrapped chocolates for the endorphins (Even if they are dark chocolate, you know it doesn’t justify the extravagance.  Oh, please, I’ve claimed endorphins, too).

                What do I do? I go to the store and load up on all that beautiful produce with lofty ideas of magnificent smorgasbords of health prepared for each meal. Lettuce for salads, of course. Salads are the epitome of healthiness. If you’re stocking up, get that big tub of lettuce. Smorgasbords need the big size of everything. Before you know it, that tub’s in my cart. Do you do that, too? Or am I alone in this quest for balance between fries and optimal health?

                Right from the beginning let me be clear. There are no smorgasbords at our house. That’s fantasy. But we do have a couple good salads until demands shove other salads and some of the veggies out of the way. Then when I find the that big tub of lettuce, I discover something, and not for the first time. The lettuce around the sides of that tub look good, but there are some slimy leaves in the center. From there is a race to see which takes over faster: the slime or my disinterest in sorting through the lettuce to separate the good from the bad. What I eventually do is give up on the tub and lettuce in general for a while.

                Recently I spoke with someone about clothes shopping. She said to me, “Did you ever buy something that really didn’t fit that well, or you didn’t like that much, but you just wanted to buy something?”

                Ouch! Yes. Instantly my green shirt came to mind. I was feeling old and rather insecure that shopping day. And I was sure those new shirts (it wasn’t just the green one that I bought) were going to make me look younger and, therefore, make me feel more secure. Wrong!

                When I got home, I realized the green shirt didn’t even fit me that well. It was too big.  It’s now reserved for sloppy days at home. I got some compliments on the others that I wore and still wear, but they didn’t take a single year off my life or make me feel any more secure.

                By now you’re probably asking: “What does that slimy tub of lettuce have to do with your clothes shopping?” Both are about an internal problem. That tub of lettuce looked great on the outside—I checked—and I had a heart problem the day I shopped for clothes.

                Now, slimy lettuce is just slimy lettuce, and I don’t have a lot of suggestions for it except compost. But my heart needed a solution that day, and for my heart there was and is one. Jesus and the truth he teaches me about who I am fill that hole every time. Whenever I’m off balance and not living up to who I was made to be, I have a heart problem that’s only solved in returning to him for my identity. The knowledge that he loves me however old I am and even if I’m wearing a gunnysack was truth I neglected the day I shopped to fill in the hole in my heart. And no amount of clothing I stuffed in a bag was enough to fill the hole in my heart.

                What’s your hole? Is it being filled by Jesus? Whatever it is, he can take care of it.

Pie, Socks, and the Gospel

            Years ago my husband and I heard stories of how evangelist and founder of Campus Crusade for Christ Bill Bright often led others to Christ on airplanes or wherever he happened to be. We marveled at how simple it all seemed. He shared the Gospel, and people accepted Jesus. We didn’t doubt the stories or the sincerity of those who prayed, but we did scratch our heads.

Why didn’t this ever happen to us? What were we doing wrong? Was it the approach? The words we used? Our lack of knowledge about apologetics or the authenticity of the Bible? Were we inept at sharing our faith stories? What was our problem? There had to be something. If we were doing things right, would we have such odd things happen when we shared Christ? Yes, odd. Let me give you a couple of examples.

When we lived in Queens, New York, years ago, we tried to reach out to a nearby family. One evening we crossed the street with a homemade apple pie for a couple and their young daughters. Pleased, the wife invited us in; her husband was distracted by a game on TV. She cut the pie, and all I remember is a short, tense visit. After that none of them ever spoke to us again or acknowledged our presence.

Another household on our side of the street was a little friendlier. In fact, our daughters played together occasionally. One Saturday my husband ventured two doors down to ask the affable, single dad about coming to church with us. He politely refused because he had to wash his socks. That is not a typo of any sort. He told my husband that he had to wash his socks on Sunday morning. (Subtext: I don’t want to go to church, and I don’t want to say it to you.) 

Yes, this is history. Although no one else has had to wash socks, we are still far, far from experiencing anything that Bill Bright did during this lifetime. I suppose that data collectors might explain this by our changing culture, desensitization to spiritual hunger, an overindulged society, or any number of other things. I don’t know about those things, but here are a few things my husband and I have learned and decided since the pie, the socks, and even our recent encounter with an agnostic neighbor.

1.       Jesus doesn’t ask us to be successful. (What a relief!) He asked us to be faithful in telling others the Good News. One of our favorite Bible characters is Jeremiah, who had a message to share, and God told Jeremiah he would be ignored and worse!

2.       Somewhere along the line in my numerous pursuits of learning how to share the Gospel, I heard that on average, someone needs to hear the Good News five or six times before understanding and accepting Christ. I’ll just admit it right now—I already confessed to my discipleship group—I want to be messenger number five or six. What Christian doesn’t want to be the one to see a spiritual birth right before her eyes and be a part of the delivery process? But Jesus has brought me to the point that although I would still like to see that happen sometime, I tell him I’ll be number three or four.

3.       So my husband and I have assumed new roles: demolition and agriculture. That’s right. Many times those who are lost have a lot of walls that need to come down before they can come closer to Christ. My husband is a brainy guy who understands apologetics, and he is good at weakening walls of lies and deceptions by asking questions and sharing truth. Agriculture? Although harvesting appeals to me, you can’t harvest until seeds are planted and have time to grow. I like to plant seeds of kindness and sharing how much Jesus has done for me, including how his love overcame my fear and brought me near to him.

         Have you gotten discouraged by your own stories of snubbers and sock-washers? Have you seen nothing for all your prayers, tears, and effort? You might be a Jeremiah, a number four, or you might be someone who hoes or waters those seeds. But we all must take heart. The final harvest is not in. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up (Galatians 6:9). 

Dumb Prayers

               

                A few weeks ago when I was on my way to work, I started to talk to Jesus at a traffic light. “Jesus, would you be with me today?” Now wasn’t that a good thing to ask? I wanted the presence of Jesus all day long. I needed him to be right there, close. And I can ask for anything from my Savior, right?

                Hmm. Except no sooner did the words come out of my mouth than the thought crossed my mind: “That was a dumb prayer!” I asked for something I already have. God has made it very clear that his presence is with me always. “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you,” he said in Hebrews 13:5. What part of that promise didn’t cover what I faced that day? I would not be alone for a single minute.

                You may be one of those wonderfully kind people who even hesitates to call a spade a spade. Instead you may call that morning prayer a redundant or even a cover-all-your-bases prayer. If you would, thank you for your generosity.

                However, I’m even going to go one more layer below dumb and call it faithless. It’s another vulnerable spot in my Christian life where I’m not taking God at his word and moving on with tenacious confidence.

In addition, I think I’m wasting my time. Why am I spending time asking for what is already mine? If I want to make a cake and say, “Honey, would you go get some eggs and lemons?” when we have some in the fridge, I’m wasting cake-making time waiting for him to get what is available to me. I could be making the cake, and in the spiritual realm I could be doing the work of prayer about things that haven’t already been granted.

Somewhat chagrined by my naïve praying I came across another pilgrim with the same struggle and discovery. L.B. Cowman records the story of H.W. Webb Peploe in Streams in the Desert. Peploe had suffered the agonizing loss of a child and planned to preach to his congregation on the sufficiency of God’s grace until he realized it wasn’t real to him. He begged God to make his grace sufficient for the suffering he was experiencing. Then he cast his eyes upon a new hanging on his wall: My grace is sufficient. The word is leaped out. Peploe grasped the truth that he didn’t have to pray for what God had already given; he needed to believe that it was his and that it was adequate for him instead of insulting God by asking for it.

Some might say this is simply the power of positive thinking, but it far more than that. It’s way beyond that. It’s the power of living in the truth, which is anchored in the character of God. And who is this God? The list of his character qualities is mind-boggling. It makes your face go slack-jawed. And if we could name them all, you and I wouldn’t even have the time in a lifetime to get to the bottom of each. I’ve hardly begun to discover what it means to have Jesus nearby every single minute.

I’ve got some stuff in my life right now, and it’s going to hang around for a while. I bet you have a few things that are giving you something to think about and deal with, too. What it we do a Dumb Prayer Check when we pray? Is what I’m asking for something that’s mine now? Instead of asking for it; let’s thank God for it and look for ways he’s demonstrating his presence, sufficiency, grace, goodness, patience. . . .