The morning held a chill over it that wouldn’t pass. She shivered a bit, even with the car heater blasting out its warmth, with only a slight glance toward him as she passed by.
He stood on the corner of the busiest intersection in town, newspapers at his feet. His hands were cupped over his mouth, the steam rising from them with every puff of air he extended their way.
It was a backwards glance that she gave in her rearview mirror. She was late for her morning appointment, and didn’t want to be bothered with the lingering thought of him. Her McDonald’s bag laid snugly on the seat beside her, the smell of her egg biscuit wafting upward with the heat, not to mention the aroma of the untouched coffee.
Errrr…how she hated the interruption of conviction. She flipped her car around, making sure she was in the lane closest to him. Wouldn’t you know it? The light turned a bright red just as the car in front of her slipped through, leaving her stopped directly beside him.
She rolled down her window and without a word shoved the bag and the coffee toward the man. His frigid hands brushed hers as he bowed to gaze into her window. “Oh, thank you!” was all he had time to say before the light changed and she pushed on the accelerator. In her rearview mirror she saw him cup his hands around the coffee cup, turn it up and drink.
Hesed (kindness shown without expectation of it in return).
************************************************************************************
The call came 7 years after the separation which led to her divorce. The woman who called had been her friend – her close friend – before, but the pain of the divorce had left her bitter and angry, and certainly not in a position to still be her friend. They hadn’t spoken in 7 years – until this day.
The offer was to have lunch, with a brief explanation that she ‘had some ‘splainin’ to do. Out of curiosity alone, she accepted the invitation.
Once at the restaurant, the awkwardness of the initial meeting was thick as both women said their polite hellos and seated themselves at the table. As soon as the orders were in and the waitress had left them to their awkwardness, the woman who had initiated the meeting leaned up close to her once-dear friend and whispered strongly enough to penetrate the deepest silence – “I am soooo sorry that I haven’t been here for you, and I want to ask you to forgive me.”
From there the conversation continued for some time, with the woman explaining her confusion over the situation, and her inability to face it with her friend. She was now offering to pay for her friend and her ex-husband to go through marriage counseling, having heard they were in the process of reconciliation after 7 long years.
Tears flowed, but acceptance of marriage counseling was far from this woman’s mind at present. She needed individual counseling…healing for her broken frame…before she could ever enter into covenant relationship again.
Without a blink, her friend wrote out the checks week after week (12 of them to be exact) while the woman worked through issues of guilt, shame and confusion – all leading her back to a love relationship with her Savior in preparation for a new marriage restoring the covenant that she and her husband had broken, but which God faithfully remembered and was longing to restore.
Hesed (kindness shown without expectation of it in return).
***********************************************************************************
She was an outcast by every sense of the word. A long history of sexual misconduct left her feeling vulnerable and unlovely, dirty and abandoned. Although newly “redeemed” by a loving God, not to mention a loving spouse, she had not yet experienced complete freedom from guilt and condemnation.
It was the friendships she lacked and craved most. Women didn’t trust her, didn’t like her, didn’t want to be around her. She couldn’t blame them…she carried so much shame and a past of relentless haunting.
It was in the midst of her aloneness that the call came. A woman she had barely met and hardly knew was asking her to meet for coffee.
She hesitantly accepted, then immediately feared what this meeting might bring. As she approached the coffee shop, she was mortified to see the woman waiting for her outside at a table. Didn’t this woman know who she was? Didn’t she want to hide inside somewhere where her friends couldn’t see her? Why was she here anyway?
The conversation was social, kind, of the sort that made you hunger for more. And - in the process of time – the woman befriended her and loved her through her insecurities, past failures and sins. Never once did she bring up the darkness of her past, and in the strength of her gentleness, she taught the outcast to accept the love Christ had shown her.
Hesed (kindness shown without expectation of it in return)
***************************************************************************************************************
I could go on and on with tales from my past, and with every remembrance I fear there would be far more extensions of kindness (hesed) toward me rather than from me.
I would be amiss not to credit God with each encounter, for I surely know and recognize that His presence was with me in every situation, prodding me both to extend hesed, and to receive hesed. I promise you that receiving was much more difficult than giving!
The Psalmist wrote (Psalm 63:3): Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise You.
Really? Better than life?
Because Your lovingkindness (hesed) is better than life, my lips shall praise You.
I challenge you today to look for and to expect His hesed (kindness) toward you, and to give Him the praise He is due.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Holding Faith by Fingernails
by Stephanie McCall
Ladies, most of you know Stephanie but if you don't she is a dear gifted sister. I am so glad she was willing to share some of her inner "wrestlings with the Lord" about her life and desires here. Whether it is an encouragement to you or a reminder to encourage and pray for her I hope (as I know she does) that the Lord will speak to you through it today!
Several years ago, during high school, I went to Lake Toxaway Baptist Church to hear a guest speaker, David Ring. If you’re not familiar with him, he has cerebral palsy. His case is more severe than mine—if I remember correctly, he uses a wheelchair. He also slurs when speaking. But David is a powerful speaker, and possesses powerful faith. During his presentation, he said he’d been told he’d never be married or have a family. He’s a husband and a dad. He lives a normal life. And along with him, other disabled people—blind people, wheelchair-users, even those with Down Syndrome—live normal lives.
I don’t think it started with David Ring, but I have a fantasy of being like him. I have a vision of getting up onstage in front of the church family who loves me and announcing that the impossible happened—that I’m a homeowner, a writer, a wife, and a mom. I picture myself praising God for what He did, because if He did these things, believe me, He’d get every ounce of credit.
From time to time, I’ve even wondered what it would be like if God chose to cure my CP. He did it for Marlene Kleppes, a severely disabled woman featured years ago on the 700 Club. Why not me, too? I’ve been bold enough to pray for it—facedown, nose in the carpet.
Except, that’s the ending. And so far, God has not allowed me to testify about the ending. See, I’m a writer, but Jesus stubbornly refuses to give me control of my own pen (or typing fingers, if you have to get technical). He writes one page of my story per day, and that day, one page is all I get to see. No skipping ahead, no guessing, no nothing. It’s cheating.
So far, this twenty-five chapter story (wow, now I feel old), is a good one. I spent chapters 18-24 in grad school, getting the straight A’s I never got in public school, no thanks to geometry and algebra. (Thank goodness for salvation; I’m pretty sure geometry’s what they do Down There.) In chapter 22, I got to go to Europe, something everybody else said disabled people never did. I’ve been shown incredible mercy despite big mistakes. Throughout the story, I’ve had a great biological and church family, and some lovely friends. I’ve had some great spiritual moments, and even been invited to tell my story to an appreciative audience.
But right around Chapter 24, the story stalled. I came home from grad school hoping for my first real job, but there was no work for someone with a Master’s in English. No thanks to CP, relocation was not a viable option. I couldn’t even drive a car to escape the house that, after about a year, threatens to close in on me sometimes. Add in some heavy personal issues, and I started to think Satan snatched the keyboard. My faith felt totally sabotaged. When I prayed, ugly words would enter my consciousness. I wasn’t saying them; I know who they came from. But there they were. I fought off thoughts like, "What good is God?" When disasters like the Japanese earthquake and tornado after tornado happened, I wrestled with the idea, "God doesn’t care about them, and certainly not me." I wondered if I was a big joke to God—a gifted woman He created, yet gave a disability, just to play with. You know, lead on and then drop. Without warning, I faced the tough questions I blithely and blindly thought a good church girl—who’d even been a legalist once—would never have to deal with. And there wasn’t a purpose for any of it. Every day for the past year, with few exceptions, has been exactly the same. For the first time, I looked right at God and said, "I won’t go into it for fear of what I’ll do or say, but I’m angry with you."
I’ve been holding faith by my fingernails for the toughest year in my life, and it’s a miracle my manicure hasn’t chipped. I have screamed at God, "I don’t care what you do, I’m not leaving!"—while He allowed Satan to turn up the heat on his new favorite teabag. Welcome to Sovereignty 101, class.
We’re taught that God knows what He’s doing. We’re taught to trust Him no matter what. But we think "no matter what" is something we’d pull out if we were, say, thrown in prison for our faith. We never think about "no matter what" applying if we break a bone, lose a job, flunk a class, divorce, or lose a child. Unfortunately, those situations are when Sovereignty 101 is the toughest.
I’m still waiting for Final Exam Day in Sovereignty 101. But in the meantime, I’m learning a lot, especially about love. See, I have frequently told God I trust Him—that should He want to "shelve" me permanently, I know He’ll make it okay. I suppose, like the perfectionist academician I am, such effort to trust would show Him I was serious. I thought that refusing to walk away from faith, tempting though it is at times, would make Him proud of me.
The other day, I prayed again, nose in the carpet, for healing from CP—either physical healing or the kind that comes from proof that I am not the outcast woman I see in the mirror. And I told God that if He said no, if I never left my parents’ house, if a man never held me in his arms—that He’d make it okay. Except He said,
"If I gave you these things, it would be because I love you."
"God loves me" is not Comparative Literature in the 18th Century. After hearing Monica say it in countless Touched by an Angel episodes, you’d think I’d get it. Maybe I won’t until I get to the ending. In the meantime, I’ll wait, and leave you with this post.
Blessings,
Stephanie McCall
Ladies, most of you know Stephanie but if you don't she is a dear gifted sister. I am so glad she was willing to share some of her inner "wrestlings with the Lord" about her life and desires here. Whether it is an encouragement to you or a reminder to encourage and pray for her I hope (as I know she does) that the Lord will speak to you through it today!
Several years ago, during high school, I went to Lake Toxaway Baptist Church to hear a guest speaker, David Ring. If you’re not familiar with him, he has cerebral palsy. His case is more severe than mine—if I remember correctly, he uses a wheelchair. He also slurs when speaking. But David is a powerful speaker, and possesses powerful faith. During his presentation, he said he’d been told he’d never be married or have a family. He’s a husband and a dad. He lives a normal life. And along with him, other disabled people—blind people, wheelchair-users, even those with Down Syndrome—live normal lives.
I don’t think it started with David Ring, but I have a fantasy of being like him. I have a vision of getting up onstage in front of the church family who loves me and announcing that the impossible happened—that I’m a homeowner, a writer, a wife, and a mom. I picture myself praising God for what He did, because if He did these things, believe me, He’d get every ounce of credit.
From time to time, I’ve even wondered what it would be like if God chose to cure my CP. He did it for Marlene Kleppes, a severely disabled woman featured years ago on the 700 Club. Why not me, too? I’ve been bold enough to pray for it—facedown, nose in the carpet.
Except, that’s the ending. And so far, God has not allowed me to testify about the ending. See, I’m a writer, but Jesus stubbornly refuses to give me control of my own pen (or typing fingers, if you have to get technical). He writes one page of my story per day, and that day, one page is all I get to see. No skipping ahead, no guessing, no nothing. It’s cheating.
So far, this twenty-five chapter story (wow, now I feel old), is a good one. I spent chapters 18-24 in grad school, getting the straight A’s I never got in public school, no thanks to geometry and algebra. (Thank goodness for salvation; I’m pretty sure geometry’s what they do Down There.) In chapter 22, I got to go to Europe, something everybody else said disabled people never did. I’ve been shown incredible mercy despite big mistakes. Throughout the story, I’ve had a great biological and church family, and some lovely friends. I’ve had some great spiritual moments, and even been invited to tell my story to an appreciative audience.
But right around Chapter 24, the story stalled. I came home from grad school hoping for my first real job, but there was no work for someone with a Master’s in English. No thanks to CP, relocation was not a viable option. I couldn’t even drive a car to escape the house that, after about a year, threatens to close in on me sometimes. Add in some heavy personal issues, and I started to think Satan snatched the keyboard. My faith felt totally sabotaged. When I prayed, ugly words would enter my consciousness. I wasn’t saying them; I know who they came from. But there they were. I fought off thoughts like, "What good is God?" When disasters like the Japanese earthquake and tornado after tornado happened, I wrestled with the idea, "God doesn’t care about them, and certainly not me." I wondered if I was a big joke to God—a gifted woman He created, yet gave a disability, just to play with. You know, lead on and then drop. Without warning, I faced the tough questions I blithely and blindly thought a good church girl—who’d even been a legalist once—would never have to deal with. And there wasn’t a purpose for any of it. Every day for the past year, with few exceptions, has been exactly the same. For the first time, I looked right at God and said, "I won’t go into it for fear of what I’ll do or say, but I’m angry with you."
I’ve been holding faith by my fingernails for the toughest year in my life, and it’s a miracle my manicure hasn’t chipped. I have screamed at God, "I don’t care what you do, I’m not leaving!"—while He allowed Satan to turn up the heat on his new favorite teabag. Welcome to Sovereignty 101, class.
We’re taught that God knows what He’s doing. We’re taught to trust Him no matter what. But we think "no matter what" is something we’d pull out if we were, say, thrown in prison for our faith. We never think about "no matter what" applying if we break a bone, lose a job, flunk a class, divorce, or lose a child. Unfortunately, those situations are when Sovereignty 101 is the toughest.
I’m still waiting for Final Exam Day in Sovereignty 101. But in the meantime, I’m learning a lot, especially about love. See, I have frequently told God I trust Him—that should He want to "shelve" me permanently, I know He’ll make it okay. I suppose, like the perfectionist academician I am, such effort to trust would show Him I was serious. I thought that refusing to walk away from faith, tempting though it is at times, would make Him proud of me.
The other day, I prayed again, nose in the carpet, for healing from CP—either physical healing or the kind that comes from proof that I am not the outcast woman I see in the mirror. And I told God that if He said no, if I never left my parents’ house, if a man never held me in his arms—that He’d make it okay. Except He said,
"If I gave you these things, it would be because I love you."
"God loves me" is not Comparative Literature in the 18th Century. After hearing Monica say it in countless Touched by an Angel episodes, you’d think I’d get it. Maybe I won’t until I get to the ending. In the meantime, I’ll wait, and leave you with this post.
Blessings,
Stephanie McCall
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I have no energy for that!
I have begun to notice how many times a fellow brother or sister has said to me the words penned above. I believe that could be translated: “I have no emotion left for that”, or “I really don’t value you enough to take time for you”.
You would think that I had asked for someone to clean my house, or balance my checkbook, or rear my children for the next 5 years. The response came, however, after expressing my thoughts to a friend, or asking for an opinion, on the color of a dress. And what was really “said” to me was, ‘It’s all about me right now.’
And so, if we don’t have energy (i.e. emotional energy) to be a friend to another person, or to offer an opinion when asked for it, then what is our energy being spent on? I offer a list of possibilities –
· Self-absorption? (isn’t that pride?)
· Self-pity?
· Frustration about what has already happened?
· Anxiety over what might happen?
· Anger over what just happened?
· Overwhelming, self-made demands?
Beth Moore wrote: The most effective means the enemy has to keep believers from being full of the Spirit is to keep us full of ourselves.
Daniel 7:25 speaks to the fact that Satan’s mission is to wear out the saints of the Most High. I think he is accomplishing his purpose pretty successfully.
Don’t think for a moment that I haven’t said the same words, maybe to some of you who are reading this. And let me stop here to sincerely apologize for my lack of concern for you or your needs.
Honestly, if we would just step away from ourselves and our consuming thoughts about us, then we might see the hurts that our brothers and sisters are carrying, and we might be able to ease their pain, if only for a moment.
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Gentleness, Self-control go a long way….the fruit of the Spirit….the fruit (isn’t that the good stuff on the tree?) that comes from being rooted in Christ.
How can we keep from being worn out? Humble yourselves (the opposite of being proud) under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care (distractions, anxieties, worries of the mind) upon Him, for He cares for you. I Peter 5:6-7
If I’ve stepped on your toes, please know that I have first stopped walking to examine my own two feet.
You would think that I had asked for someone to clean my house, or balance my checkbook, or rear my children for the next 5 years. The response came, however, after expressing my thoughts to a friend, or asking for an opinion, on the color of a dress. And what was really “said” to me was, ‘It’s all about me right now.’
And so, if we don’t have energy (i.e. emotional energy) to be a friend to another person, or to offer an opinion when asked for it, then what is our energy being spent on? I offer a list of possibilities –
· Self-absorption? (isn’t that pride?)
· Self-pity?
· Frustration about what has already happened?
· Anxiety over what might happen?
· Anger over what just happened?
· Overwhelming, self-made demands?
Beth Moore wrote: The most effective means the enemy has to keep believers from being full of the Spirit is to keep us full of ourselves.
Daniel 7:25 speaks to the fact that Satan’s mission is to wear out the saints of the Most High. I think he is accomplishing his purpose pretty successfully.
Don’t think for a moment that I haven’t said the same words, maybe to some of you who are reading this. And let me stop here to sincerely apologize for my lack of concern for you or your needs.
Honestly, if we would just step away from ourselves and our consuming thoughts about us, then we might see the hurts that our brothers and sisters are carrying, and we might be able to ease their pain, if only for a moment.
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Gentleness, Self-control go a long way….the fruit of the Spirit….the fruit (isn’t that the good stuff on the tree?) that comes from being rooted in Christ.
How can we keep from being worn out? Humble yourselves (the opposite of being proud) under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care (distractions, anxieties, worries of the mind) upon Him, for He cares for you. I Peter 5:6-7
If I’ve stepped on your toes, please know that I have first stopped walking to examine my own two feet.
Sincerely, I want to love you more than I have in the past. May God’s grace abound.
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