Some people don’t like to make decisions. Just waiting for them to order in a restaurant can be a test of patience. Others make snap judgments—quick commitments they don’t follow through with. At different times, perhaps, we fall into both of these categories, but taking the middle-of-the-road approach is usually the better choice.
Of course, following Jesus is the best, most important choice of all. For a young person, any person really, looking forward to the rest of your life serving God can seem an overwhelming, impossible goal. We know we’re human and how much we mess up—in our thought lives alone. How are we ever going to make it on the narrow way?
Have you ever heard the question, “How do you eat an elephant?” The answer is one bite at a time. You take a first bite (after it’s been properly seasoned and prepared). Then you take a second bite, then a third, then a fourth…
And how do you complete a journey of 1,000 miles? It begins with that first step, then the second, then the third, then the fourth…
You get the picture.
You can do what seems impossible if you will just make the decision to take the first step, the first bite, and keep going from there—like that little grey bunny marching with his drum that keeps going and going and going.
Choice. You have it and I have it. The question is, what will we do with it? Our lives are made up of choices and consequences. I know I’m probably going to fall flat on my face again before Jesus calls me home. I’ll disappoint people, mostly myself, but you know what I want to make my life’s mantra? “Choose ye this choice.”
You know the verse, Joshua 24:15—“Choose ye this day whom ye will serve…as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” The thing is, serving God, even life in general, is more than a daily choice. It’s a choice-by-choice kind of thing. Life is one great chain of interconnected decisions. Every decision isn’t critical, but I long to make every choice God-honoring. I want to choose the best choice every choice. “Choose ye this choice” means the next “this”—the next decision I make.
It’s our choice to be sweet when someone gets us riled up and we are burning to just get them told. It’s our choice to give our best effort at work, school or home when it would be so much easier to just do the bare minimum and get by. It’s our choice, every choice, to live a life that chooses God’s ways over ours and over the pull of the world. The really awesome thing is that as we make God-honoring choices, God gives so much back to us in return. Psalm 37:4 says God gives us the desires of our hearts as we delight ourselves in Him. The payback is sweeter than anything we could imagine. God Himself is our reward. He has chosen to love us, and pleasing Him brings a peace, joy and completeness nothing in this world can compete with.
We don’t have to get overwhelmed by the mountain of choices ahead. Just face each one as it comes and make your next choice God-honoring. Before long you will have such a strong foundation underneath you and a habit of good decision making developed that when you face the real challenges of life, you’ll already be set up for success…through the succession of best choices you have already made. And when you mess up, shake the dust off, ask for and receive God's forgiveness and then set your mind for the next choice. God designed you for success, now walk in it, one choice at a time.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Bonus today...sharing a song...
How I praise Thee, precious Savior,
That Thy love laid hold of me;
Thou hast saved and cleansed and filled me
That I might Thy channel be.
Channels only, blessed Master,
But with all Thy wondrous pow'r
Flowing thro' us,
Thou canst use us
Ev'ry day and ev'ry hour.
"Channels Only" by Mary E. Maxwell
That Thy love laid hold of me;
Thou hast saved and cleansed and filled me
That I might Thy channel be.
Channels only, blessed Master,
But with all Thy wondrous pow'r
Flowing thro' us,
Thou canst use us
Ev'ry day and ev'ry hour.
"Channels Only" by Mary E. Maxwell
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
“Religion did nothing for the man in the ditch, compassion did.” J. Broyles
I am all about encouraging and affirming; however, those messages don't alway come in rose-colored wrappers. Click on the link to hear David Wilkerson's stirring message on sharing God's passion and burden for others: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGMG_PVaJoI
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Prayerlessness: A Crime Against Humanity?
When I attended BOTT, an annual prayer conference in Louisiana, one phrase sunk into my soul like a sinker flying off the end of Vesta Mangun's fishing line--falling, falling, falling into the waters of my thoughts and emotions until it just settled into the sand and became part of my lake. What was that phrase? "Prayerlessness is the greatest crime against humanity."
Selah.
What difference do my prayers make? Your prayers? I believe the greatest difference of all is the difference they make in us.
Can we impact our world for Jesus if we haven't invited Jesus to impact our lives? To change us? To be more like Him? To be healed and whole so that we can offer health and completeness to others? (We are complete in Him, Colossians 2:10.)
It's only in His presence we become more like Him. More Christlike. And isn't that what Christians are supposed to be? Christlike?
This past March I was privileged to speak to a group of young people in Iowa on the subject, "Pickled in His Presence." A pickle isn't born a pickle. It started out as a cucumber and has to go through a process to become a pickle. The major part of that process is to sit in pickle juice. As it does, it takes on the flavor and characteristics of its environment.
As we live in an environment of prayer, a continual connection with God, He changes us over time to be like Him. He can change us from a plain old cucumber to a zesty pickle and preserve a perishable veggie into something with an incredibly long shelf life.
Our prayers firstly and continually change us so we can be equipped to "Go ye therefore" and change our world. We must maintain our connection with God and choose to walk after the Spirit (not our own thoughts and desires) so He can use us, so we can hear His voice as He directs us to "speak here" or "do this there" or just "be still."
And that's an awesome thing, because following an awesome God is like totally awesome! Read the first part of Psalm 37 and you'll see that when we follow after God, He takes good care of us. When we delight in Him, He gives us the deepest desires of our hearts--not the things we think we want. We may not really know what our very deepest desires are until He's brought them to pass and we can look back and say, "God really knew what He was doing." And the cool thing about walking with God is He changes our desires along the way--elevating the good while His Spirit peels away layers of self-centerdness and self-preservation.
Prayer transforms our human natures. (Jesus wasn't into self-preservation, by the way). To maintain the change God makes in our lives, we must maintain our connection with the Changemaker. Take a pickle out of the jar for a bit, and what do you get? A shriveled up, inedible spear. Reminds me of that verse that says what good is salt if it's not salty anymore? Might as well throw it out!
I believe in spiritual warfare prayer. The Bible says Christians have authority in spiritual places unseen and our prayers can pull down strongholds and activate change...if...
Check out Psalm 28:9 in the NIV:
If anyone turns a deaf ear to the law,
even his prayers are detestable.
Ouch! I want my prayers to be heard, not a stench in the nostrils of God. When we walk with God, He writes His ways in our hearts (Proverbs 7:1-3, Hebrews 8:10). If we ignore His Word, we aren't walking in communion with Him and we won't have what we need to be effective in any attempt to reach our world. We won't have the building material to make a house of straw. Prayer is good building material. It's like those round parts of the Tinker Toys that connects the sticks together so we can make something. Without prayer, we would just have a pile of sticks.
To operate in the power and authority God has given us in spiritual places and to impact the lives of those we come in contact with, we must maintain and protect the intimate communion we have with God through our daily attitudes, conduct and prayer life. I heard someone recently say, "Prayer is the tip of the spear." A dull spear isn't a very effective weapon.
A spear...hey, pickles come in spears, too. So, my friends, walk in the Spirit and go ye therefore and Pickle Your World!
Selah.
What difference do my prayers make? Your prayers? I believe the greatest difference of all is the difference they make in us.
Can we impact our world for Jesus if we haven't invited Jesus to impact our lives? To change us? To be more like Him? To be healed and whole so that we can offer health and completeness to others? (We are complete in Him, Colossians 2:10.)
It's only in His presence we become more like Him. More Christlike. And isn't that what Christians are supposed to be? Christlike?
This past March I was privileged to speak to a group of young people in Iowa on the subject, "Pickled in His Presence." A pickle isn't born a pickle. It started out as a cucumber and has to go through a process to become a pickle. The major part of that process is to sit in pickle juice. As it does, it takes on the flavor and characteristics of its environment.
As we live in an environment of prayer, a continual connection with God, He changes us over time to be like Him. He can change us from a plain old cucumber to a zesty pickle and preserve a perishable veggie into something with an incredibly long shelf life.
Our prayers firstly and continually change us so we can be equipped to "Go ye therefore" and change our world. We must maintain our connection with God and choose to walk after the Spirit (not our own thoughts and desires) so He can use us, so we can hear His voice as He directs us to "speak here" or "do this there" or just "be still."
And that's an awesome thing, because following an awesome God is like totally awesome! Read the first part of Psalm 37 and you'll see that when we follow after God, He takes good care of us. When we delight in Him, He gives us the deepest desires of our hearts--not the things we think we want. We may not really know what our very deepest desires are until He's brought them to pass and we can look back and say, "God really knew what He was doing." And the cool thing about walking with God is He changes our desires along the way--elevating the good while His Spirit peels away layers of self-centerdness and self-preservation.
Prayer transforms our human natures. (Jesus wasn't into self-preservation, by the way). To maintain the change God makes in our lives, we must maintain our connection with the Changemaker. Take a pickle out of the jar for a bit, and what do you get? A shriveled up, inedible spear. Reminds me of that verse that says what good is salt if it's not salty anymore? Might as well throw it out!
I believe in spiritual warfare prayer. The Bible says Christians have authority in spiritual places unseen and our prayers can pull down strongholds and activate change...if...
Check out Psalm 28:9 in the NIV:
If anyone turns a deaf ear to the law,
even his prayers are detestable.
Ouch! I want my prayers to be heard, not a stench in the nostrils of God. When we walk with God, He writes His ways in our hearts (Proverbs 7:1-3, Hebrews 8:10). If we ignore His Word, we aren't walking in communion with Him and we won't have what we need to be effective in any attempt to reach our world. We won't have the building material to make a house of straw. Prayer is good building material. It's like those round parts of the Tinker Toys that connects the sticks together so we can make something. Without prayer, we would just have a pile of sticks.
To operate in the power and authority God has given us in spiritual places and to impact the lives of those we come in contact with, we must maintain and protect the intimate communion we have with God through our daily attitudes, conduct and prayer life. I heard someone recently say, "Prayer is the tip of the spear." A dull spear isn't a very effective weapon.
A spear...hey, pickles come in spears, too. So, my friends, walk in the Spirit and go ye therefore and Pickle Your World!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The Day the Geranium Died
This past Mother's Day I shared the following story at a banquet hosted by the Armenian Congregational Church in Southfield. It was originally written between 1992-1994. It has a bit of an Armenian flavor to it. Enjoy.
For three glorious weeks each summer I escape. No longer Lori-the-mom, Lori-the-wife, Lori-the-Girls-Club-Leader, I become Lori-the-spoiled-daughter-in-law. The much anticipated weeks of rest and relaxation begin with a 14-hour drive from Michigan to the door of what my family lovingly calls the Camp House (Kemp Doon in Armenian). As we tumble out of the van, Mom and Dad Kalajian greet us with hugs and kisses and we immediately assume a pace of life that would be comfortable for a middle-aged snail on the cool side of a rock.
My father-in-law purchased the Camp House over forty years ago and each summer its rooms fill with happy vacationers on retreat from the routine of life. And what a retreat! The place could easily make the cover of a lawn and garden magazine—a gorgeous oasis just a short walk from the Atlantic Ocean at the beginning of Cape Cod’s hook.
Hydrangea bushes flank the whitewashed arbor entrance, standing guard along the picket fence: beautiful, blue hydrangea bushes so pregnant with bloom their stems bow to the ground. The house, a two-story white wooden home with gabled windows and dark shutters, sits on the left side of an oversized lot walled on the right property line by towering pines that meet untamed woods behind. Massive rhododendrons, easily 15-feet tall, line the front portion of the left fence then dwindle to a smattering of blackberry bushes and other plants until the grounds incline and the fence ends at the vegetable garden behind the house.
Mounds of variegated hostas and flowers in every color, shape and size, slope down from the back of the grounds to the apple tree. A bed of flowering bushes dotted with pink and yellow blooms lies in front of the pine trees and is separated from a lovely rose garden by a busy bird bath. Next to the roses, a second white-washed arbor covered in vines and blooms is topped by a spinning whirligig. The crowning glory of the landscaped paradise, a bubbling, tiered fountain, stands majestically in the middle of a circular bed of exotic flowers.
It almost goes without saying—the picture just wouldn’t be complete—without a huge covered porch wrapping around the front and side of the house dripping with baskets of flowers. One morning, after a tremendous breakfast (you know Armenians like to eat and my mother-in-law is a phenomenal cook), we were enjoying a cup of coffee on the porch relaxing in the hospitality of its glider and several rocking chairs. Only a couple of minutes passed and a very upset little bird began yelling at us from a nearby tree. Not speaking bird language, we didn’t understand her squawking reprimand. We brushed it off, finished our coffee and made our way to the beach.
We had a wonderful afternoon making sandcastles, taking walks along the shore and climbing on the jetties. Almost everyone braved the frigid Atlantic waters for a swim, except this Kentucky girl who just can’t take that cold water. We polished off my mother-in-law’s picnic lunch of fresh lamajun, pickles, fruit and gooey homemade cookies warmed by the summer sun. When the shadows slipped over the bluff darkening the sand and chilling the air, we packed up our blankets, baskets and babies and climbed the 130-plus stairs up the side of the cliff. We walked back to the house slowly, filled with that good kind of tired.
I was one of the first ones in and out of the shower with my little girl. With a towel still on my head I plopped down with Noelle on the metal glider to wait for her daddy to take her so I could set the table for dinner. From the glider, my favorite spot, I smelled good things already sizzling on the grill. I sunk into the cushions and let out a contented sigh.
In a flash a little bird darted from one of the potted geraniums hanging along the edge of the porch and flew to a nearby tree. It looked like the same little bird that had thrown its tantrum earlier in the day and my curiosity got the best of me. Just what was going on with this crazy bird? I wondered. Reluctantly pushing off the glider, I peaked inside the hanging plant and found the source of the bird’s frustration. Two fuzzy chicks called that geranium home.
The poor mother bird had no warning her quiet nesting spot would be invaded by noisy vacationers. Yet there we were. And there were her babies demanding to be fed and cared for.
That the chicks survived until this point seemed miraculous in itself. I wondered how many times my mother-in-law had dumped a kettle full of water and plant food on them unknowingly, but the nest was on the outside of the porch and probably didn’t get a direct hit.
I shared my find with the rest of the family and all watering and feeding immediately stopped. We made sure the mother bird had undisturbed time each day to tend her young ones. We peeked through the front windows watching her drop food in the open beaks of her hungry babies, and when she flew away we would sneak on the front porch for a closer look.
There’s something touching about watching a weak young life grow strong. Each day brings new development and strength—and an anticipation of the day they’ll achieve what they were born to do—spread their wings and fly, fly, fly!
As the fledglings grew, the vibrant red geranium withered. Green, moist leaves became brown and brittle. Flowers dropped one by one to the porch and the ground below. The geranium lost its life, but the little birds lived.
There are so many life situations that parallel this story. I thought of my little girl who will continue the cycle of life with her children after I’m gone. I thought of Mom and Dad Kalajian and how much they had worked to provide this beautiful refuge for their family—now and as a heritage to remember them by long after their passings.
And, of course, I thought of Jesus who gave His life for me so I could live. If I can only spread my wings and fly for Him—becoming what He created me to be—honoring the sacrifice He made when He died for me.
The day the geranium died was not a sad day. Little birds flew away to make their own nests elsewhere—hopefully, for their sakes, not on someone’s front porch. The wilted geranium will be pruned and stored in the basement over the winter, and next spring it will be hung back out on the porch, watered and fed. The sun will shine new life into its faded existence—and it will flower again.
For three glorious weeks each summer I escape. No longer Lori-the-mom, Lori-the-wife, Lori-the-Girls-Club-Leader, I become Lori-the-spoiled-daughter-in-law. The much anticipated weeks of rest and relaxation begin with a 14-hour drive from Michigan to the door of what my family lovingly calls the Camp House (Kemp Doon in Armenian). As we tumble out of the van, Mom and Dad Kalajian greet us with hugs and kisses and we immediately assume a pace of life that would be comfortable for a middle-aged snail on the cool side of a rock.
My father-in-law purchased the Camp House over forty years ago and each summer its rooms fill with happy vacationers on retreat from the routine of life. And what a retreat! The place could easily make the cover of a lawn and garden magazine—a gorgeous oasis just a short walk from the Atlantic Ocean at the beginning of Cape Cod’s hook.
Hydrangea bushes flank the whitewashed arbor entrance, standing guard along the picket fence: beautiful, blue hydrangea bushes so pregnant with bloom their stems bow to the ground. The house, a two-story white wooden home with gabled windows and dark shutters, sits on the left side of an oversized lot walled on the right property line by towering pines that meet untamed woods behind. Massive rhododendrons, easily 15-feet tall, line the front portion of the left fence then dwindle to a smattering of blackberry bushes and other plants until the grounds incline and the fence ends at the vegetable garden behind the house.
Mounds of variegated hostas and flowers in every color, shape and size, slope down from the back of the grounds to the apple tree. A bed of flowering bushes dotted with pink and yellow blooms lies in front of the pine trees and is separated from a lovely rose garden by a busy bird bath. Next to the roses, a second white-washed arbor covered in vines and blooms is topped by a spinning whirligig. The crowning glory of the landscaped paradise, a bubbling, tiered fountain, stands majestically in the middle of a circular bed of exotic flowers.
It almost goes without saying—the picture just wouldn’t be complete—without a huge covered porch wrapping around the front and side of the house dripping with baskets of flowers. One morning, after a tremendous breakfast (you know Armenians like to eat and my mother-in-law is a phenomenal cook), we were enjoying a cup of coffee on the porch relaxing in the hospitality of its glider and several rocking chairs. Only a couple of minutes passed and a very upset little bird began yelling at us from a nearby tree. Not speaking bird language, we didn’t understand her squawking reprimand. We brushed it off, finished our coffee and made our way to the beach.
We had a wonderful afternoon making sandcastles, taking walks along the shore and climbing on the jetties. Almost everyone braved the frigid Atlantic waters for a swim, except this Kentucky girl who just can’t take that cold water. We polished off my mother-in-law’s picnic lunch of fresh lamajun, pickles, fruit and gooey homemade cookies warmed by the summer sun. When the shadows slipped over the bluff darkening the sand and chilling the air, we packed up our blankets, baskets and babies and climbed the 130-plus stairs up the side of the cliff. We walked back to the house slowly, filled with that good kind of tired.
I was one of the first ones in and out of the shower with my little girl. With a towel still on my head I plopped down with Noelle on the metal glider to wait for her daddy to take her so I could set the table for dinner. From the glider, my favorite spot, I smelled good things already sizzling on the grill. I sunk into the cushions and let out a contented sigh.
In a flash a little bird darted from one of the potted geraniums hanging along the edge of the porch and flew to a nearby tree. It looked like the same little bird that had thrown its tantrum earlier in the day and my curiosity got the best of me. Just what was going on with this crazy bird? I wondered. Reluctantly pushing off the glider, I peaked inside the hanging plant and found the source of the bird’s frustration. Two fuzzy chicks called that geranium home.
The poor mother bird had no warning her quiet nesting spot would be invaded by noisy vacationers. Yet there we were. And there were her babies demanding to be fed and cared for.
That the chicks survived until this point seemed miraculous in itself. I wondered how many times my mother-in-law had dumped a kettle full of water and plant food on them unknowingly, but the nest was on the outside of the porch and probably didn’t get a direct hit.
I shared my find with the rest of the family and all watering and feeding immediately stopped. We made sure the mother bird had undisturbed time each day to tend her young ones. We peeked through the front windows watching her drop food in the open beaks of her hungry babies, and when she flew away we would sneak on the front porch for a closer look.
There’s something touching about watching a weak young life grow strong. Each day brings new development and strength—and an anticipation of the day they’ll achieve what they were born to do—spread their wings and fly, fly, fly!
As the fledglings grew, the vibrant red geranium withered. Green, moist leaves became brown and brittle. Flowers dropped one by one to the porch and the ground below. The geranium lost its life, but the little birds lived.
There are so many life situations that parallel this story. I thought of my little girl who will continue the cycle of life with her children after I’m gone. I thought of Mom and Dad Kalajian and how much they had worked to provide this beautiful refuge for their family—now and as a heritage to remember them by long after their passings.
And, of course, I thought of Jesus who gave His life for me so I could live. If I can only spread my wings and fly for Him—becoming what He created me to be—honoring the sacrifice He made when He died for me.
The day the geranium died was not a sad day. Little birds flew away to make their own nests elsewhere—hopefully, for their sakes, not on someone’s front porch. The wilted geranium will be pruned and stored in the basement over the winter, and next spring it will be hung back out on the porch, watered and fed. The sun will shine new life into its faded existence—and it will flower again.
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Bare Necessities of Life: Friends and Chocolate
NOTE: This magazine-length article is a bit longer than my regular post, originally published in Reflections January 2009. Enjoy!
Most of us lead hectic lives. It just seems to be the way the world is spinning these days. And when life gets crazy, we often have difficulty developing and maintaining close friendships.
This is dangerous, ladies. Neglecting our inherent need to socialize could be harmful to our health, almost as damaging as life without chocolate.
Face it, what else makes a woman feel better when she is cycling through her hormones? Chocolate and a good talk with a sweet sister. Which brings me to my point: friends are like chocolate. You can live without them, but who really wants to?
Friends are the chocolate chips in the cookie of life. Like chocolate, friends give us pleasure. They share the good times and the bad. “Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend…” [Proverbs 27:9]. I once heard someone say, “The only thing better than a good friend, is a good friend with chocolate.”
Of course, chocolate doesn’t excite all as much as it does most. You may be a chip gal, or a new-pair-of-shoes lady; however, scientists discovered that phenylethyamine, also known as the “love drug,” is released in our brains when we eat chocolate. This is the very same chemical that gives us that feeling of being in love. And consuming chocolate takes a lot less effort than a romance, though overindulgence can result in similar mood swings.
Chocolate comes in different flavors: white, dark and traditional. It is also used to cover nuts and raisins…apply these analogies to your friends however you wish, but don’t blame me if they get upset with you. Regardless of the richness, texture or hue, all chocolate, like all friendships, serve their purposes in life. From acquaintances to comrades, associates to sidekicks, attendants to benefactors, companions to confidantes, the Lord brings people into our lives to share its times and seasons.
True friendships are among the many wonderful blessings of those who belong to the Body of Christ. As believers, we find ourselves filling many different roles in the lives of others, a reciprocal arrangement that benefits our lives, as well. The same friend we celebrated with last week, may lend us a shoulder to cry on tomorrow. The person we counseled on a family matter, may be the one who has the right advice for our ministry situation. As the old proverb goes, “one hand washes the other.”
Throughout the year my husband battled cancer, my sisters in the Lord came to my rescue. While I was consumed with the demands of attending him, my church family supported me. They worked out a schedule and brought meals to my home. My laundry washed, my groceries bought, my son diapered, and my daughter’s hair brushed—different women pulled together to pull me through a very difficult season of life. As I served in my church the years prior to the trauma, I never dreamed I would find myself and my family dependant on others in such a dramatic way.
No one knows with certainty the troubles and challenges that lay ahead—another good reason to invest in the lives of others. For the joy of relationships, yes, but in addition, we can not anticipate when we may need to make an emergency withdrawal. If no deposits have been made into our friendship accounts, where will we draw from?
I learned the most about true friendship when in desperate personal need others befriended me:
• A real friend knows when to keep her mouth closed and her arms opened (think of Job’s friends).
• A real friend knows when to say “I love you” instead of “you should…”
• And a real friend knows when you need a pat on the back or a swift kick to the backside. “Faithful are the wounds of a friend…” [Proverbs 27:6].
I have needed both pats and kicks, and I have given both to others. This is real life, ladies, and we have to be real with each other if we’re really going to make it. “If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!” [Ecclesiastes 4:10NIV].
Beyond tantalizing our taste buds, chocolate washes endorphins and serotonin over our brains. Endorphins lessen pain and decrease stress while serotonin works as an antidepressant. The relationships God brings into our lives absolutely provide these powerful coping mechanisms. Sharing life with friends lessens pain, decreases stress and helps shift perspective from selfishness to selflessness—an outlook that fights depression with great results, better than most chemicals on the market, and without negative side effects.
We all go through lonely seasons, sometimes while surrounded by people. If your heart is lonely, I encourage you to take your focus off looking for a friend. Instead, look for a way to serve others, and God will bring friends into your life.
A friend is defined as someone you know and trust, someone you have affection for and who provides cooperation or assistance. The Latin, Greek and English histories of the word all go back to the word love, to be a friend is to love. Applying this to Proverbs 18:24, we could read the verse “A man that hath friends (love) must shew himself friendly (loving).”
Have you ever noticed the Lord used the feminine gender to define love’s attributes? Take a look at the famous love chapter. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things” [1 Corinthians 13:4-7].
First, try this exercise. Reread the passage, and wherever you see the word “charity,” substitute the word “friendship.” If you are struggling in a relationship, you could use this as a template for prayer. “Lord, help me love my friend by showing kindness to her, help me believe the best in her, help me not be easily provoked or oversensitive to her, and so on.”
Secondly, did you note the phrase “seeketh not her own?” I never caught that in previous readings, but come to think of it, I don’t know any men named Charity. Perhaps the Lord assigned the feminine gender because a woman’s love can be very emotion driven. God knows we are sensitive to our environments, again like chocolate. According to the atmosphere, chocolate can melt or freeze into brittle bars. But if you let chocolate sit in room temperature awhile, it will come back to its regular solid form.
In the times we feel unloving or unfriendly, we would do well to take those emotions to the Word and let them sit there until they get back to where they need to be. I read somewhere, “I am a woman of many moods, and they all require chocolate.” True friendship is to love. Love covers [Proverbs 17:9]. Love gives [John 15:13]. A friend is a gift from God, a gift to unwrap and enjoy over time, a gift to share with others.
Friday, January 16, 2009
2 Chronicles 7:14-15
I was asked by a respected leader to "read carefully and prayerfully" 2 Chronicles 7:14-15. I meditated on the passage a couple of days, and decided to share my thoughts here. I hope you are encouraged as you read.
THE BACKDROP
Solomon and the Israelites just spent seven days dedicating the new temple – with prolific sacrifices, music, etc. On the eighth day all the people joined together in a solemn assembly.
THE WORD
The Lord came to Solomon the night following the assembly [v. 13] saying...if I (God)sent famine, pestilence or drought, AND ("and" added in place of the semicolon) [v. 14] IF My (God's) people (His own people – the people on whom His Name is called) will:
1) humble themselves (isn’t pride the root of all sin?)
2) pray (spiritually commune with God)
3) seek My (God's) face (not His hands...what He can do...but Him)
4) turn from their wicked ways (you and me making personal choices to change)...
...then I (God) will hear their prayers (our prayers to remove pestilence, famine and drought?), and will forgive their sins, and heal their land.
REVELATION
One night, praying at the altar, I don’t even recall what I was praying about, the Lord spoke a clear and surprising word to me. He said, “You are the land.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know, the land…What did I make Adam from?”
“The dust of the earth,” I thought.
“You are land,” He said.
It clicked. I got it. I’ve been involved with the National Day of Prayer for several years, and 2 Chronicles 7:14 is a key verse used in the organization. I’ve sung songs about it, organized events around it, prayed it, etc., but in a moment, God gave me revelation.
Adam was made from the dust of the earth, and we are his offspring. We are dust—land. And if we will follow the instructions in this pivotal verse, we will see the PERSONAL healing God wants to bring into our “lands”…our hearts…our minds…our bodies…our emotions.
When our “lands” are healed (you and me), we will impact the communities in which we live. When we are His, we ARE salt and light, and God will use us to bring this same restorative message into the lives of others, who will in turn receive their healing and the affect will ripple into the entire world.
We pray for healing for our nation…our country, but when God speaks of nations, He speaks of people. It won’t matter if abortion is the law of the land if the people of the land reject the evil practice. People found a way to commit this heinous crime even when it was illegal, but with a true healing in the lives of individuals, our nation could see a huge decline in the slaughter of innocent babies.
The fight to uphold the sanctity of marriage (laughably promoted by a church with a divorce rate equal to the world’s), will be preserved when hearts are healed, delivered from selfishness and relationships restored.
And the list goes on…
PROMISE
Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine ears attent unto the prayer that is made in this place [v.15].
What I love about this verse is that God responds to humility and obedience with an ever “present tense” promise. He said His eyes would be open (not opened – a one-time deal), and his ears attent (not attend – attending as something begun and completed). He’s saying to me that He will continually be looking and listening – alert to our requests…when we posture ourselves in humility before Him and look into His holy countenance…when we reject sin in all its forms (even laziness, apathy, judgmentalism, etc.) and turn to God, He turns attentively to us and our requests. What an amazing God we serve.
THE BACKDROP
Solomon and the Israelites just spent seven days dedicating the new temple – with prolific sacrifices, music, etc. On the eighth day all the people joined together in a solemn assembly.
THE WORD
The Lord came to Solomon the night following the assembly [v. 13] saying...if I (God)sent famine, pestilence or drought, AND ("and" added in place of the semicolon) [v. 14] IF My (God's) people (His own people – the people on whom His Name is called) will:
1) humble themselves (isn’t pride the root of all sin?)
2) pray (spiritually commune with God)
3) seek My (God's) face (not His hands...what He can do...but Him)
4) turn from their wicked ways (you and me making personal choices to change)...
...then I (God) will hear their prayers (our prayers to remove pestilence, famine and drought?), and will forgive their sins, and heal their land.
REVELATION
One night, praying at the altar, I don’t even recall what I was praying about, the Lord spoke a clear and surprising word to me. He said, “You are the land.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know, the land…What did I make Adam from?”
“The dust of the earth,” I thought.
“You are land,” He said.
It clicked. I got it. I’ve been involved with the National Day of Prayer for several years, and 2 Chronicles 7:14 is a key verse used in the organization. I’ve sung songs about it, organized events around it, prayed it, etc., but in a moment, God gave me revelation.
Adam was made from the dust of the earth, and we are his offspring. We are dust—land. And if we will follow the instructions in this pivotal verse, we will see the PERSONAL healing God wants to bring into our “lands”…our hearts…our minds…our bodies…our emotions.
When our “lands” are healed (you and me), we will impact the communities in which we live. When we are His, we ARE salt and light, and God will use us to bring this same restorative message into the lives of others, who will in turn receive their healing and the affect will ripple into the entire world.
We pray for healing for our nation…our country, but when God speaks of nations, He speaks of people. It won’t matter if abortion is the law of the land if the people of the land reject the evil practice. People found a way to commit this heinous crime even when it was illegal, but with a true healing in the lives of individuals, our nation could see a huge decline in the slaughter of innocent babies.
The fight to uphold the sanctity of marriage (laughably promoted by a church with a divorce rate equal to the world’s), will be preserved when hearts are healed, delivered from selfishness and relationships restored.
And the list goes on…
PROMISE
Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine ears attent unto the prayer that is made in this place [v.15].
What I love about this verse is that God responds to humility and obedience with an ever “present tense” promise. He said His eyes would be open (not opened – a one-time deal), and his ears attent (not attend – attending as something begun and completed). He’s saying to me that He will continually be looking and listening – alert to our requests…when we posture ourselves in humility before Him and look into His holy countenance…when we reject sin in all its forms (even laziness, apathy, judgmentalism, etc.) and turn to God, He turns attentively to us and our requests. What an amazing God we serve.
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