Bottoms Up

While this hasn't been the hottest summer we've had by any means, it is still hot enough to give you embarrassing sweat marks and rings.  Lines, too, if you sit still long enough, though I'm very careful not to let that happen!  Hey...just keeping it real.

Anyway, on Friday, Hope and I made lunch to take to Hunter up at the skate park where he works.  I was shocked to find his water bottle unused after four weeks at Falls Creek.  Shocked and more than a little frustrated. 

What has he been drinking?  Milk (that's okay), the occasional Gatorade (again, okay), ginger-ale, Icees (which I may not bring him anymore now that I know what I know), Coke (this is where it gets bad), and black coffee (Grrrr!). 

This after being really sick a couple of weeks ago! Chills, low fever, nausea, stomach cramps.  I thought he had the stomach bug that a couple of the other staffers had come down with. Turns out he was dehydrated, so I made him drink 120 ounces of water a day for a few days until he felt better.

Hunter hates water.  He claims it doesn't taste good.  I wasn't aware that water had a taste.  Maybe it's the absence of taste that he objects to.  He also says that it hurts his stomach, but I think maybe that's just what detox feels like.  Once you get past that initial phase of reintroducing water into your system and getting hydrated, you start to feel awesome.  I ought to know!

I don't drink sodas anymore.  I have one cup of coffee in the morning, and that's it.  The rest is water.  I drink at least 96 ounces a day.  I know this because I have a water bottle with the ounces marked.  It's been this way for about a year and a half, and I feel great, healthier.  I have lost a lot of weight, and I have more energy than I have in a very long time.  It's funny how giving your body what it needs sets everything right, isn't it?  

Notice that I didn't say "giving your body what it craves."  Cravings are funny things.  You tend to crave what you are used to, whether or not it is good for you.  As a matter of fact, I read a weight loss article that said you should end every meal with a bite of something healthy because your body will crave whatever it ate last.  The problem is that many of us end meals with some kind of dessert, even if it is just a Hershey's kiss or something. 

I think the same thing goes spiritually.  We tell people that they have a built in desire for God.  That's not necessarily true.  They do have a void that only God can fill, but they won't crave Him if they've never tasted and seen that He is good (Psalm 34:8).  They will crave worldly pleasures instead, things they are familiar with, things that thrill and fill for a moment, but ultimately leave them more empty than before. 

If we aren't careful, we Christians can become spiritually dehydrated, too, although letting that happen when we know how to avoid it is kind of ridiculous, like Hunter refusing to drink water after being so sick and being told by his mother ten times a day to drink water.  Believers who have grown lazy and fallen out of the habit of spending time with God, praying, reading their Bible, and fellowshipping with other believers will sometimes try to satisfy their aching heart with worldly substitutes that may taste good at first, may satisfy for a while, but will ultimately make them more miserable. 

Christian or not, the only cure for spiritual dehydration is Jesus.  He is the Living Water, and only He can satisfy your deepest need.  You may not crave Him now, but once you let Him clean your heart out, you'll experience for yourself the difference He makes. 

I accepted Jesus into my heart when I was a little girl, but there have been times of spiritual dehydration in my life since then.  I can tell you from experience that getting back on track after filling your life with junk isn't pleasant at first.  It's never comfortable to confront and confess sin.  I'm guessing that spiritual detox is pretty similar to physical detox in that way. However, it's always, ALWAYS worth it. 

So, here's hoping that you will use your water bottle more often than Hunter does this summer and that you will let Jesus quench your spiritual thirst. 

Bottoms up!  (Unless, of course, you've been sitting in one place too long! Tee hee)  

Sweet Lola

We have a new puppy! Her name is Lola.  A foundling weighing only a pound or two, this bony little sweetie has stolen our hearts and is turning poor Chico's world upside down. 

Chico is a people dog, though he does get along with Angel and Little Bit, the geriatric lady dogs belonging to Todd's brother and mom.  We were a little nervous about bringing home a puppy, but the poor thing didn't have anywhere else to go. 

Chico didn't know what to think at first.  Tail at high curl, the scruff on his neck standing on end, he perked his radar ears and began a steady orbit around our baby girl, sniffing and sneezing as if he found her very presence offensive.

Lola was unfazed.  I don't think it's the first time she's been treated like a second-class citizen.  She has a gimpy leg and a slight under-bite, which I find irresistible, but I think that may be the reason she was wandering alone in a field rather than playing with a family somewhere.  It's purely conjecture, but I'm guessing the breeder couldn't sell her.

Determined to be Chico's friend, Lola has been following him everywhere today, marking everything that he marks in the back yard, eating his food, squeezing in next to him between the kids on the couch, and playing with his toys.  Her persistence seems to have paid off.  In a few short hours, Chico's attitude has morphed from disdain to annoyance to tolerance to--we think--fondness.  We put Lola in our bathroom earlier before leaving the house, and Chico checked on her, sniffing under the door and looking at us as if we were being cruel to lock her up. 

Yes, I think everything is going to work out just fine.  I'm really not too surprised at the turn-around.  How could Chico possibly stay frustrated with little Lola?  She's a puppy, after all.  She's going to act like one.  Surely he knows that. 

Now, if she'd been a full-grown stray and come in acting the way Lola did, I think we would have had a problem.  Never mind the fact that many strays have never had a positive domestic experience and so are, in many ways, still puppies, uneducated and inexperienced, making messes inside, crossing personal boundaries, making noise at inappropriate times, etc.  I don't think Chico would have had the patience for that. 

In that way, I am a lot like him.

I love working with babies, children, and teenagers, but I lack patience with adults.  A friend of mine puts it this way, "Kids are kids.  Adults have no excuse."  I'll admit, it's tempting to judge others according to our own standards, but there are two problems with that.  We are not to judge, and our own standards are not God's standards. 

I can't stop thinking about what is happening to Paula Deen.  Poor woman.  I'll just say this.  I am so glad that only thirty or so people (I hope that's all it was!) heard me stick my foot in my mouth this week.  There is absolutely no way for me to take back what I said or even explain my thought process.  Though my intentions were completely benign, no one but God sees my heart, and what I said was not edifying.  I'm sure if I had been on the hearing end of that radio call, I would have had plenty to say to myself about arrogance, careless words, servanthood, humility, etc.  Anyway...

Here's what you and I need to remember.  The rhythm of God is different in each person's life.  We mature in different areas at different rates depending on the Christian education we have received and the experiences God has allowed us to have.  What one of us knows for sure, another is just learning and vice-versa.  Those who we think are behind us in some ways are probably ahead of us in others. We should extend the same grace and forgiveness to others that we want extended to us when we make mistakes because it's gonna happen!

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." Ephesians 4:2

This just in....Chico gave Lola a kiss! 

It's a start. 

Looks like the puppy is teaching the big dog a new trick, how to make friends.  Go figure!

Open Wide

Have you ever watched a baby ogle a hamburger?  An ice-cream cone?  What is it about big people food that mesmerizes them so?  Is it that Mommy and Daddy like it, so they know it must be good?  Is it more colorful and substantial looking than what they normally get to eat?  Maybe we humans just always want what we can't have. 

What's really funny is watching a toddler who is new to the table actually try those foods they've been ogling for so long.  So many of them quickly decide that they only want SOME of the grown-up food their parents feed them.  Pudding?  French fries?  Pizza?  Yes, please!  Vegetables?  Roast?  Hard-to-make, organic and healthy first birthday cake with non-dairy cream-cheese icing?  Um, no.

Squirming, covering their eyes with their already food-covered hands, they poke out that bottom lip and turn away just as the spoon reaches their mouth.  Tag!  Another smear of whatever right on Junior's cheek.  Then, before Mom or Dad--in some cases, poor Grandma or Grandpa, who always look a little more weary and desperate than Mom or Dad--can get it with a napkin, he wipes it into his hair, ears, eyes, or eyebrows.  Maybe I'm a little sadistic, but it's actually a lot of fun to watch if you aren't the one doing the feeding. 

Today, I watched the bird version of the same thing.  I always assumed that fuzzy-bald bird babies ate whatever their mama brought them.  Not so. 

There is a nest made of mud just outside the staff cafeteria here at Falls Creek.  Every year, the same bird (I assume) lays eggs in it.  It's only about ten feet off the ground, so we all get to watch as the babies grow from barely visible beak tips to fully feathered teenager birds eager to leave the nest.  It's pretty cool.

Today, I saw something I'd never seen before.  Frantic to satisfy her chirping babies--who are getting louder and pushier by the day, I've noticed--the mama bird brought bug after bug back to her nest.  In her brief absences, the babies would rearrange themselves, taking turns, it seemed, at the edge of the nest.  On the mama bird's fourth trip or so, she perched on the edge of her mud nest and poked a bug into the wide-open mouth of the next in line.  To my surprise, the baby poked it right back at her.  She fluttered, cocked her head, and took it back. 

It was kind of a big bug, but the baby was the biggest in the nest.  Obviously, the mama bird thought he could handle it because as soon as he opened his mouth again, she poked it back in.  This time, he held it for a moment before poking it back at his mother.  Maybe he preferred ladybugs to the beetle he was being fed?  Ultimately, it didn't matter.  The two poked back and forth until the mama bird won, and Junior swallowed his dinner. 

The mama bird's fifth trip took a while.  I didn't blame her.  I'd have taken a little "me time," too, at that point.

I wonder how many of us are like Junior, asking--sometimes demanding--God to bless us, grow us, challenge us, take us deeper, having no idea what it is we are asking for.  Longing for the joy, peace, and blessing others are enjoying, we push to the front of the line, open our mouths, and wait to be fed something that will fill our bellies and thrill our taste-buds.

Something we don't have to chew. 

You want me to read my Bible for myself?  Can't I just wait until Sunday and listen to the sermon? 

Something bite-sized.

You want me to go where?  Can't I just volunteer at the food bank downtown or bake cookies for the neighbors?

Something that tastes the way we want it to.

You want me to love whom, Lord?  Can't I just focus on family and friends?

But it doesn't work like that.  Growth, challenge, knowledge, intimacy, and blessing are the by-products of obedience, self-denial, and sacrifice. 

Big people food.

Relax, Child of God. The Father knows what you want, what you can handle, and what you need (Matthew 6:8).  Even as you cry out, He is providing it (Philippians 4:19), for your good as well as your enjoyment (1Timothy 6:17).

Brace yourself, though.  It may not always look the way you want it to.  It may not be pleasant to the taste or easy to swallow at first, but it will fill you up.  It will bring you joy.  It will satisfy.

Open wide!   

Jealous

Evening is the very best time to visit Boulder Springs here at camp.  It’s cooler then, the wildlife is just starting to get active again after the hot afternoon, and it’s quiet because the teenagers are all back in their cabins or headed to the Tabernacle for evening service.  I’m not sure which I like better, though, the destination or the journey. 

There is a copse of trees just before Boulder Springs that looks to me like something out of a movie.  I can’t decide which movie, Lord of the Rings or Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Either way, it’s just gorgeous, shady, still, and quiet, and I want to build a tiny log cabin right in the middle of it.  

Last week, Hunter and I made nightly treks through that tiny grove to get to Boulder Springs, where we have our best summer talks.  One night, I walked a little closer to the stream that runs along the left side and couldn’t help but notice all of the baby trees sprouting there.  I counted at least six different kinds, although I couldn’t tell you what they were to save my life, and realized that the four or five-story giants above me were once that size and probably started out with a whole lot of little buddies like these guys.  

So, what happened to the rest of them?  From what I could tell, there was plenty of water and sunlight to go around, and the dirt looked dark and rich.   Did they freeze?  Was there a drought?  Had they been trampled down?  If so, how did the remaining trees survive?  Why were they spared? 

I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing that their roots are just stronger, deeper. 

The same group of trees looks very different from the Prayer Gardens up above.  I like to go up there by myself and just watch them.  When the slightest breeze blows through, they dance, their leaves rustling like taffeta skirts.  Swaying slightly, they appear to link and unlink arms, lost in music only they can hear.  In their own way, they seem to be worshipping, and I am always moved by the sight. 

The little trees underneath don’t move much at all.  Their roots aren’t deep enough yet.  It must take a lifetime of digging and reaching to earn the privilege, to gain that kind of freedom. 

I’m jealous.  

I want to live like that, worshipping with abandon, sensitive to the slightest prompting of the Holy Spirit, eager and ready to obey, bending to His will without fear of breaking, oblivious to the watchful eyes and opinions of others. 

Someday.

Right now, I’ll keep on digging and reaching; my roots aren’t quite deep enough yet.          

Get After It!

I've always thought my husband was good looking, even when he was 57 pound heavier than he is right now.  I must admit, though, that he is a bit of a hottie at the moment, and I am relieved that he has lost the weight.  I was getting concerned that we might not grow old together, and I happen to believe that we would be the perfect older couple, taking ballroom dancing lessons, playing with our grandkids (though I'm pretty sure that Todd will be their favorite and I will be the one who makes sure they get fed), and watching TV in our matching recliners.  No.  Scratch that.  We'll have a love seat.  Did I mention my hubby is a hottie? 

But, I digress...

My point is this.  Todd has worked very hard to get to this point, watching calories and denying himself things he would like to indulge in.  His was more than a journey of doing without, though.  He also made a serious effort to add something that had been lacking, exercise.  He bought himself some running shoes and got after it.

I remember when he couldn't walk two miles with me without breathing hard, his face purple and damp with the effort.  Now, he is running two to three 5K's a week, at least one of them up and down the hills of camp.  That is no small feat.  I walked it last night, and it took me almost an hour to return to my normal color!  He doesn't run for the shiny 5K pins or the T-shirts he earns for running.  He does it for the health benefits and the euphoria that comes after a good run.  Those other things are just perks.

I am so proud of him I could cry, to be honest with you. 

Anyway, it's 5K day, and Todd just ran by our apartment window.  I waved, but he didn't see me.  We live at the bottom of a steep hill, and he was concentrating on the task at hand.  Tucking his chin, he picked his knees up a little higher, took a deep breath, and sped up.  

I smiled (he looks good when he runs) and went back to my quiet time, picking up where I left off, Proverbs 2:1-10.  Here is just a bit of it. 

"My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God...He holds victory in store for the upright, he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless for he guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones...Wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul." 

Now, honestly, don't we all want those things?  Victory and protection, to know, and to understand?  I know I do. The thing is, they don't come easy.  What God offers in this passage is a reward for hard work.  Look back at all of the action verbs in this passage: accept, store, turn, apply, call out, cry aloud, look, and search. 

Whew! 

I think there are a lot of people who would like to feel close to God, but get frustrated when they don't feel something the first time that they pick up their Bible after a long hiatus or when they don't get a charge out of sitting through an hour of church on Sunday.  Throwing their hands in the air, they give up, as if God has let them down. 

Are you kidding me? 

God did His part and then some in sending Jesus to make a way for us to have a relationship with Him in the first place.  The rest is up to us.  Getting to know God takes some work, but it's worth the effort.  It starts with getting rid of everything gumming up the works, bad habits, poor attitudes, and plain old sin (God will help you with all of this if you'll let Him) and ends with the ultimate surrender of your will to His purpose for your life.

Are you up for it?  It may seem like a daunting task at first.  Maybe you've never really studied the Bible on your own or you've gotten out of practice.  Maybe when you sit down to have a quiet time, you feel a little awkward and red-faced, embarrassed that it's been so long. 

Don't sweat it! 

God loves you.  He wants to spend time with you, and you'll get the hang of it.  Start small.  Read a Psalm and a Proverb a day.  Then work your way through the Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  When you've done that, jump over to Ephesians and Colossians, reading a chapter or two a day.  Before you know it, you'll be flipping those see-through pages like a pro.  (If you would like to follow a quiet time guide, check out The Devotional to End all Devotionals, a free resource offered by the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma.)

Unlike my husband, I've never experienced a runner's high, but I guarantee you it's nothing compared to what waits for those who put in the time and make the effort to know God better.  Victory, protection, knowing, and understanding?  Sure, those are rewards worth working for, but nothing beats the intense joy of a healthy, intimate relationship with the Heavenly Father, who, by the way, thinks you are pretty worthwhile (Psalm 139, John 3:16)! 

What are you waiting for?  Go ahead.  Get after it! 

Don't Wig Out!

I'm loving the effect that all the rain this year has had on camp.  It's fourth week, and the creeks are still running strong.  All of them.  The waterfalls are gorgeous, and Boulder Springs is full of kids laughing and splashing and taking pictures. 

The only down side is all of the bugs.  Mosquitoes are out in full force.  Mosquitoes and wasps.  I'm still in denial of the fact that there is a large tarantula making its home exactly fifteen feet from our front door.  Not even going to mention that right now. 

Back to the wasps.  They don't bother me as much as they bother some other people, but they are annoying.  I'm sure it would hurt like crazy if I got stung, but I'd get over it.  Now a tarantula bite...

Anyway.

I have one friend who gets absolutely wiggy when a wasp starts buzzing near his head.  Time and time again, I've heard people tell him to ignore it and it will go away.  It's a true statement, but that doesn't seem to help my friend.  The moment he hears one buzz, he becomes a human statue, frozen in place unless the compulsion to make a quick exit overtakes him (never seen him do this, but I've heard about it). 

It's kind of funny to think about when you are the outside looking in, but it's not funny to him.  He is afraid, and fear does strange things to people. 

Take Christians, for instance.  We serve Almighty God, Creator of the Universe, the Great I Am.  The Bible says if He is for us, no one can stand against us (Romans 8:31).  That includes Satan, who amounts to little more than a pesky wasp in the grand scheme of things.  Oh, he stings us sometimes, but He can't kill us (Romans 8:35-39).  The Father has seen to that (Romans 6:23). 

We ought to laugh at the enemy's feeble attempts to intimidate.  All that buzzing and humming and hovering.  It shouldn't affect us at all.  In fact, the Bible tells us that if we ignore him, he will go away (James 4:7). 

But we get scared.  We become paralyzed, statues commemorating a faith that once was rather than living testaments to a powerful God.  We are children of God and soldiers in an army that has already won, but we allow ourselves to be bullied and manipulated by an impotent enemy who will soon be smashed (Romans 16:20). 

Maybe it's time we took a step back, gained a little perspective.  It's time to stop running and live like the conquerors we are (Romans 8:37). Come on, people.  Shake it off.  Live the life that you were meant to live. The last laugh is ours!

Leadership is as Leadership Does

One of my favorite things about spending the summer at Falls Creek is having the chance to spend time with the staff, the bands that come in to lead worship in the tabernacle, and the camp preachers.  I love that Hunter and Hope have the opportunity to sit, all summer long, in the company of people who are actively serving the Lord.

This is the second week in a row that evangelist Ed Newton (http://www.ednewton.tv/) will be preaching, and I am grateful for his willingness to bring his wife and four children across several states to share the Truth of God's Word with the youth of Oklahoma.  He is a solid expository preacher that lets Scripture speak for itself. No gimmicks, no trying too hard to be cool so kids will listen.  What's more, he is genuine.  What you see is what you get.  He doesn't just talk about letting God live through him; he lives it. It's this specific attribute that stood out to Hunter last week as we spent time with Ed and his family.  (To watch Falls Creek services on live stream, follow this link around 7:15 each weekday evening...you won't be sorry!  http://skopos.org/livestream/)

A few hours ago, I had the chance to thank Ed for the example he has been setting for my son.  I told him that it was what Hunter had seen off stage that made an impact, Ed's willingness to spend time with everyone without showing favoritism, his unassuming nature (the man wears clothes from the Good Will because they are "good enough for him"), and the way he loves others with his time and attention.  Ed thanked me for the compliment.

"I learned something about leadership a while back," he said.  "Leadership is not just about how well you fulfill your responsibilities, but how you handle the privileges that come with it." 

Good word.    

I was thinking about those words as I walked back to our apartment.  I wanted to write them down before I forgot.  On the way, I saw Miss Jean picking up trash from the street and lawn in front of the Tabernacle.  No one else was around.  She wasn't doing it to make a point or show off.  She was doing it because it needed to be done and she was still able to do it. 

There isn't a staffer on grounds that wouldn't give a kidney for Miss Jean.  If she'd asked someone else to do the job, they would have, just to please her, but she didn't.  Bending slowly and carefully so as not to take a tumble and have to leave Falls Creek early for a hip replacement, this precious lady, who is old enough to be my grandmother, stooped down and picked up straws, cups, and water bottle lids as if it were her privilege to do so. 

I don't know which I will remember longer, Ed's words or Miss Jean's example. 

Lord, you alone are good. You alone deserve honor and praise.  May we be faithful stewards of the privileges and blessings you afford us.  Be glorified in our lives as we serve you with humility.

Pop Quiz

Last week, I was caught off guard by one of the sweetest little ladies you could ever hope to meet.  Her name is Miss Jean, and she spends every summer at Falls Creek loving on the summer staffers.  Always ready with an encouraging word, she dutifully sends cards and makes and passes out prayer favors when she gets the time.  Compassionate and generous with her love, she doesn’t play favorites, hugging every neck willing to stoop down a little and praying for every heart willing to open up. 

On my way to the tabernacle for high school Bible study Wednesday morning, I had my head down watching for puddles when a crazy bright pair of tennis shoes appeared in my peripheral.  Miss Jean.  She was headed my way from the tabernacle.  I looked up, and my heart smiled.  Sparkly pink fedora perched atop her silver curls, a Bible in her hand, Miss Jean was obviously feeling very close to Jesus, smiling even as she wiped tiny tears from the corners of her eyes.

Before I got to say anything more than “hi,” she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her.  Her grip was surprisingly firm.  Maybe that’s what threw me off. 

“What is the prayer request of your heart today, Angela?” she asked, our hands a tight ball of fingers beneath her chin. 

I didn’t know what to say.  I wasn’t expecting a question like that.  I had been thinking about Hope being away at Super Summer, a leadership camp at Oklahoma Baptist University, just before I met up with Miss Jean, so I went with that and asked her to pray that Hope would grow in her faith and come away with an experience that was all her own, one that had nothing to do with the rest of the Sanders four. 

Miss Jean was all over it. 

“Dear Lord,” Miss Jean began, “please be with Hope this week at Super Summer.  Take care of her and teach her to sing your praises HER way!  We ask these things in your Son’s holy and precious name, and we know His name is….?” 

I waited.  Silence. 

After a few seconds, I peeked.  Miss Jean’s face was very close to mine, her eyes wide with expectation.  I had obviously missed something.  Was she asking me a question?  Had she seriously forgotten Jesus’ name, or was this supposed to be a responsive prayer time?

Before I could form an answer, Miss Jean finished her own sentence, speaking very slowly so that the clueless woman in front of her could understand.  “His name is JEEEEEEESUS!” 

“I knew that!” I assured her quickly, feeling awkward and very young. 

Giggling, she patted my hand.  “Of course you did.”

I love Miss Jean.  In this instance, she reminded me to “be prepared (2 Timothy 4:2)” for questions much more challenging than the one she posed, questions that inevitably come when you least expect it.  Here are just a few that I have been asked recently. 

“It’s sad because he wasn’t a Christian when he died.  That means he went to hell, right?”

“Shouldn’t faith count for something, even if it’s not faith in God?”

“Don’t you think that a person should get to go to Heaven as long as they do everything that their own religion says they have to do to get there?”

“Surely, if you are a good person, you get to go to Heaven.  How could you not?”

By the way, none of these questions were asked at convenient times or within the context of otherwise spiritual conversations.  In retrospect, I know that my answers lined up with Scripture, but I wish they’d been more carefully worded.  I wish I’d been more prepared.

How about you?  Do you know the answers to these questions?   If not, search your Bible.  Ask someone who knows.  Eternity is forever.  Trust me.  You do NOT want to be caught off guard! 

Waterfalls and Diamonds

Back in the day, when describing Falls Creek to people who had never been there, I used to talk about the scenery, the tall trees, the waterfalls, Boulder Springs, the Prayer Gardens, the stairs hewn from rock.  But, over time, that changed.  I began to promote Falls Creek differently, describing Falls Creek as the premier conference center it is becoming, pointing out features like the new and vastly improved recreational area on the other side of Price’s Falls, the beautiful new tabernacle, the Missions Center, and the handy new concession areas that are popping up all over camp.  It’s not that nature has become less spectacular.  It’s just that I don’t always notice it with all of the new things going on.     

Sometimes, in the evenings, when students are in their cabins getting ready for evening service, braiding each other’s hair and spraying enough Axe on themselves to kill the Ozone layer, I like to take walks by myself.  Tonight, I thought I’d take a look at the new water treatment facility, the one that has completely eradicated the need for bottled water this year.   To get there, I had to pass two of the older, if not oldest, cabins on grounds.  They have always fascinated me because they are so quaint.  I imagine that the seven dwarfs might stay there if they ever came to camp, Snow White as their camp cook.  

This year, the creek is high because of the ridiculous amount of rain that we have had lately, and many new waterfalls have formed.  Some of the most beautiful waterfalls on grounds are now tucked behind the dwarf cabins and the water treatment facility.  In a way, it’s a shame.  Few people will ever see them, as I had to go about fifty yards past the “Do Not Pass This Point” sign to get to them.  These waterfalls will never get the attention they deserve.  All that working and churning for nothing.  God sees them, though.  Maybe He made those for Himself.

It makes me think of something I saw earlier today.  Coming back from the Prayer Gardens, I fell in with a rowdy, rag-tag group of teenagers.  Diamonds in the very, very rough, every last one of them, they were wearing matching Tshirts, so I could only assume they were a youth group.  Instantly, I felt sorry for whomever was in charge of those kids for an entire week with no television, video games, or law enforcement handy.  A few seconds later, turning to see which potential diamond had kicked a rock in my direction, I saw them.  Looking like cover art for Hipster Monthly, the youth minister and his wife were bringing up the rear, holding hands in the middle, their Bibles to their sides.  ‘Sheep among wolves,’ I thought to myself.

Being a middle school teacher, I had to fight the urge to help them out by having one of my “chats” with the students.  What I saw took the urge away.  I guess the students didn’t know that the couple had caught up with them.  As soon as they noticed, they calmed.  Their entire demeanor changed.  They walked slower, stopped yelling and climbing on each other, and they smiled, all of them.  The girls hung back to talk to the young woman, admiring her dress and asking whether she would go get icees with them later.   The boys, instead of throwing rocks at each other, started showing off for the young man, showing how far they could throw rocks down the hill.  Within minutes, the group  had formed a sort of wheel shape, the couple at the center looking neither put out nor afraid.  It was obvious that they loved those kids, and I felt glad that someone did. 

We live in the days of the megachurch.  Live streaming, indoor waterfalls, and pimped out people movers are where it’s at.  But where is God?  Is He there, too?  Possibly, but not necessarily.  I do know that He is working in the midst of a rowdy, rag-tag group of teenagers who find themselves at camp this week.  He has to be.  What else would draw a couple like the one that obviously loves them to work with people who don’t seem to be anything like them?  Nothing I can think of. 

I have a feeling that God is doing some of His very best stuff in places few of us would ever choose to step.  Those who are willing to go where things are neither easy nor pretty need our prayers and deserve any support we can offer, though they don’t do what they do for attention or recognition.  They don’t seem interested in pleasing anyone but God Himself.    

Wow!

During our devotional time together, my family is working through a narrative of the Bible, and it’s been a lot of fun to revisit Bible stories I haven’t thought about in a while, Noah and the Ark, Moses and the Red Sea, and Daniel and the lions’ den, to name a few.  Listening to these larger than life stories makes me feel like a kid again, puffed up and proud of my Heavenly Father.   

God is just so awesome! 

Sometimes I wish He would do things the way He used to do them, though, big and incredible and spaced out a little so everyone would sit up and pay attention when He did His thing.  It makes me angry when people talk about God like they know Him when it is so obvious that they don’t, questioning His character and putting words in His mouth, second guessing His wisdom and doubting His power,  and writing Him off as irrelevant.  It makes me want to scream, and, I’ll admit that, like Jonah, a part of me wants to see those people humbled by a spectacular display of God’s power.  It would give me a lot of satisfaction to watch them bow in reverence and submission the way the enemies of the Israelites always did right after they got their tails whipped by God’s people.

To be honest, it wouldn’t hurt me to bow a little lower, either. 

Last week, I did something God told me to do.  I wish I could say that I took a step of faith, but the truth is that it took me four months to obey a simple directive.  I’m pretty sure I forfeited the right to call it a step of faith a long, long time ago.  Though I’m relieved to have finally made the decision and am excited to find out what God is up to, I’m ashamed of my delayed obedience (which amounts to little more than disobedience) and what it reveals about my faith. 

Maybe I wouldn’t have as much trouble believing and obeying if God talked to me from a burning bush.   Then again, I’ll take New Testament intimacy with God over a light show any day.  What I have to remember is that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  The fact that He has chosen to live in my heart does not make Him small.  His desire for a relationship with me no more diminishes His power than stooping to pick up a child strips a man of his masculinity.  Actually, it speaks to His strength. 

For His own glory, God sent Jesus Christ to pay the price for our sin that we might live for Him on earth and spend eternity in Heaven.  Rescuing a family and their boat load of animals, thousands of slaves, and an old man is really cool, but rescuing the entire human race?  That’s epic, and every time we allow God to work in and through us, we remind people of the miracle He has performed. 

Craving a spiritual wow moment?  Surrender.  Do what God tells you to do when He tells you to do it.  Bow your heart and remind the world that God is still awesome! 

I'm Sorry

As I scroll through Facebook, my heart grows heavy, not just at the loss of life and property, but the loss of innocence as people come to terms with the fact that bad things can and do happen to everyone. 

I understand. 

I have never been a tornado victim, and I have never had cancer.  However, I have experienced loss and grief.  I have been where so many people apparently are today.  I wish I could make it better, but I can’t.  

Only God can.  Even as I type these words, I know some will be tempted to stop reading this post.  Some will smirk at what probably sounds like “something she would say” and page back to Facebook or whatever link brought them here.   Still, the truth remains.  God is healer.  God is comforter, and God is Savior to those who allow Him to be. 

We lost a baby back in 1998.  I was still in my first trimester, and some people felt that minimized my loss.  They told me as much.  I think they were trying to help, but phrases like “you’ll have another one,”  “something must have been wrong with it,” and “it was just a bunch of cells” were hurtful beyond expression, and my heart still bears the scars of wounds torn by well-meaning loved ones who didn’t know what to say. 

At the time, my husband was a youth minister.  When we first told the youth group we were expecting, never dreaming that anything could go wrong, they were thrilled for us, patting my tummy way too early to feel anything, making me cards, and talking about what a great big brother Hunter would be.  They couldn’t wait for a new youth group baby.  Then the contractions started.

I’m sure the weeks following our miscarriage were awkward for our teenagers.  Most of them did exactly what I would have done at that age.  They put on happy faces and avoided the subject.  Some avoided me altogether.  I wanted to tell them I was fine, but I wasn’t.  I cried a lot, and I brought Hunter with me to youth group events rather than drop him off at the nursery.  I wanted to be with him and hold him tight. 

I spent weeks feeling isolated in the middle of friends before I found relief.  It came from a very unlikely source, a thirteen-year-old who didn’t know any better than to say what she was thinking, God bless her heart.  She rang my doorbell one afternoon when Hunter was asleep.  I rushed to the door and opened it before she had a chance to ring it again and wake him up.  There she stood, wildflowers in her hand, tears in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry your baby died,” she blurted, giving me exactly what I didn’t even know I needed, plainly stated acknowledgement of my loss, no sugar coating and no guesses at why God might have let it happen. 

I don’t remember what I said in response, but I know that I squeezed that little girl up tight.  She didn’t stay long (I think the intensity of my hug might have spooked her a little), and as soon as she left, I cried so hard that my entire torso ached afterward. 

I still have a hard time remembering or talking about the baby that we lost (the one whose name we keep between ourselves and Jesus) without crying, but over time, Jesus has brought healing and wholeness.  He has been Comforter and Friend, but our innocence is gone forever.  We know bad things happen and ask why just like everyone else. 

To those who are asking why right now, let me offer the best that I’ve come up with in the fourteen years I’ve had to think about it.  

We live in a broken world.  Way back when, Adam sinned, and what should have been the Garden of Eden for all of us turned into something scary and unpredictable.   No matter what we do or don’t do, bad things are going to happen, and we have a choice to make.  We can struggle through on our own, confused, alone, angry, and fearful, or we can let God be our refuge and strength in the times of trouble that are sure to come.  

Why doesn’t God just keep bad things from happening?  I can’t say for sure, but I do know this.  People don’t think about death, eternity, and their need for God when everything is good, but when bad things happen, we seek Him.  What if tragedy is actually evidence of God’s grace and mercy?  After all, the Bible says that this life is just a breath in comparison to eternity, and Hell is worse than anything we could possibly experience on earth if only because it lasts forever.  Isn’t it much more important for us to spend this breath preparing for eternity, accepting God’s give of salvation through Jesus Christ and demonstrating the power of faith in all circumstances so others might find Him, than it is for us to be happy or safe? 

I think so, but then I’ve had time to heal.  

You are hurting right now, and I have no wish to minimize your loss or dismiss your pain.  This is simply an attempt to encourage.  I know it is clumsy at best, so please forgive me if my words have missed their mark.  I love you dearly, friends, and I will continue to pray for you. 

I am very, very sorry that your innocence died.