The Next Chapter
I have the honour of “guest posting” today at Jennifer’s Renewing Housewives site.
You can read the post: The Dash-lights in Marriage there and also take some time to browse/bookmark her site for numerous encouraging articles along with various resources for you and your family).
You know I’ve written about internet addition… e-mail… group list mail addiction… AOL… Geocities… One-List… eGroups… screen addiction… information addiction… whatever could be looked up… early on: Ask Jeeves. Bling. Ask him… ask him anything. Then Yahoo, then Google… click, click, click… Bling. You’ve got mail… Bling! Click, click, click… Blogs! Bling! Facebook. Bling! Pinterest. Bling!
I write what I’m learning… I share what I see, what I experience, what God is teaching me. You know; through a series of trials, disappointments and losses I was presented face to face with the reality that I was/am an internet addict. By the grace of God and through the love of my husband, I had to face this reality and, after some time had passed, learn to make changes — and when it was obvious I could not be self governing, I had to have boundaries — literal restrictions — placed on my computer. Like a drug addict, I am powerless over media. And… like a drug addict, I didn’t realize what was going on around me, nor did I realize I was causing others to resent me — the time I was spending online and the time I was not spending with them. And guess what the fruit of this was/is? Yes… in many ways, family and friends addicted to media. That is not sweet fruit.
So… I implore you today. Get fences. Get restrictions on your media. Get pruned. Get staked. Learn to live within the boundaries so that you will be more fruitful, more fragrant, more productive… You’ll see. And you’ll be amazed.
Two years ago, when I handed my computer to my husband, I knew I had to come to grips with internet addiction/family hurts and my walk with the LORD. Then, months later, when I had worked through and walked through where I was, what I’d done and what I needed to do: my one hour’s use per day almost seemed like a worse prison than no computer use per day… but that time was actually a school of prayer and more repentance, more revelation of what had happened (and why it happened) and what needed to happen. What I thought was a punishment was a blessing. What I thought was too hard was actually a marvelous mercy. What I thought was too restrictive has become my greatest freedom.
Now, as in this little window of allocated/measured time, I have freedom — permission — blessing — to use this computer and I can choose to use the time to browse, listen to sermons, to research, to read/write devotionals, blogs, connect with my children and friends… bcz I’m in step with the plan for my days. It’s freeing. This humbling limitation has given me so much assurance and freedom.
It’s joked about sometimes around here — this restriction — and it reminds me of people’s comments to me early on when we only had one vehicle for many years and my husband was gone all day. I could walk to the store for my groceries — returning with what could be carried or hung on the stroller. It was freeing to me to not “run around” in the car — to plan my days and outings, to live within those boundaries. I didn’t always know it and probably couldn’t appreciate it. But I know and appreciate it now. These things affirm to me that God never wastes a thread.
It’s easy to forget some things — many things — really.
It’s especially easy to forget things in a moment of panic, in the tyranny of the urgent or after a long span of time. Or, in an obituary. Or at a memorial service.
I’m thinking you know what I mean. Attending numerous funerals and memorial services through the years has kept this thought pretty fresh in my mind. Time has a way of softening rough edges in some relationships — sharpening them in others — and has a way of distorting things when the accumulation of days, experiences and memories ceases.
It’s sometimes necessary to overlook things at that point. You find yourself reasoning in your head: Look, the guy’s dead — let it go already. Or, Okay, so he was a creep — he’s dead, pay your respects and move on.
You may find yourself glancing around the room of family and friends gathered to remember, gathered to grieve, gathered to console, gathered to laugh at the wonderful times, gathered to show support, gratitude or devotion. Whatever the case, it’s interesting: all that goes on at such a time as a memorial service — or in the writing/reading of an obituary. So much could be/must be/needs to be said. And, usually, so much is forgotten overlooked when recounting the story of a life. And, I suppose, in a sense, that’s how it should be — if tact or the preservation of personal dignity are the criteria for why what’s shared is (or isn’t) shared in the memorial and/or obituary.
Every now and then, however, the rest of the story is told. You’ve probably experienced this from time to time — when someone dies and there’s a painful side to the relationships the person was involved in — or other self inflicted woes and regrets. So, in those times, the honest and open, yet tactful, acknowledgement of basic realities brings healing to the ones closest to that individual. Sometimes, the brief recounting of some of the struggles helps those who are grieving to make some sense of the tragedies or helps to bring closure to disappointments or whatever. Somehow, being able to say: here’s how it went, here’s how it felt and now we go on, brings the beginning of healing — a turning point, perhaps, so that what was can be acknowledged and what can be can begin.
Interestingly, this past springtime has brought many deaths — many opportunities to reflect on lives and the accomplishments, beliefs, decisions, etc., etc., of each of those individuals. The words preached, the sprinkling of laughter and tears, the memories shared at the different memorial services still play back in the theater of my thoughts — it seems almost daily, the poignant memories, testimonies, etc., continue in the forefront of my mind. I think that must be why the Scriptures tell us that is it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of mirth or feasting — for it seems to me that much instruction is found in the house of mourning.
Over the last couple of days you’ve no doubt been hearing, as I have, the many different accounts and tributes to the life of Chuck Colson, I read a very thoughtful and insightful article by Tim Challies. Brave one, he. I’m linking to it — bcz he’s succinctly detailed some errors while remaining respectful. O, sisters, there’s much we must learn — and, in this case, much we must discern from a life of significant influence, but also, a life that added a dimension of conflict and compromise regarding Biblical truths and, what I call, pragmatic faith: Faith that goes along to get along… and, yes, you guessed it: that’s not really true faith at all. We’re seeing it (probably experiencing it) all over! We don’t want to offend our neighbours, our family and friends. We don’t want to come across as holier than Thou, we don’t want to be embarrassed or cause trouble. But! O, sisters, we must realize that hell is filled with un-offended neighbours, family and friends. May we have courage to speak the Truth. In love. With tact.
More than ever, we must be circumspect regarding what’s being taught as Truth and may the Lord help us be witnesses of His Truth.
Edit:
I know I took a real risk sharing as I did and commenting as I did regarding a couple of the errors in a life so influential and powerful. I want to reiterate something that I think might’ve been lost and that is that he did do marvelous things and his contribution is significant and I don’t doubt his sincerity/faith/salvation/etc., etc. for one moment. I only want to emphasize the tremendous impact of a life and how imperative it is to NOT compromise or live pragmatically/compromising regarding Biblical Truths. When “religious” beliefs are in conflict with the Bible, we mustn’t err on the side of compromise, we must adhere to the Truths of the Word — and this will often NOT be popular and others will be offended.
If, in addition to my Bible, I could keep only one of my devotional books, I think A Diary of Private Prayer (John Baillie) would likely be the one I would keep. Through the years, this little volume has blessed me immensely, encouraged me tremendously, and has carried my thoughts to the Lord continually as each of the thirty-one morning and evening readings have seemed to me to be inspired each time by the Lord and has been used of Him to remind me of commitments dear to me. As life seems to move more swiftly than ever before and as changes in my family and in my own personal life seem to be increasing exponentially, I find that this little timeless book becomes more of a treasure as the years go by. I have an original old printed copy, but reprints are available at Amazon and elsewhere.
Here’s an example for you… may you be blessed.
| First Day Morning | |
| Eternal Father of my soul, let my first thought today be of Thee, | |
| let my first impulse be to worship Thee, let my first speech be Thy name, let my first action be to kneel before Thee in prayer. |
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For Thy perfect wisdom and perfect goodness: For the love wherewith Thou lovest mankind: For the love wherewith Thou lovest me: For the great and mysterious opportunity of my life: For the indwelling of Thy Spirit in my heart: For the sevenfold gifts of Thy Spirit: |
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| I praise and worshipThee, O Lord | |
| Yet let me not, when this morning prayer is said, think my worship ended and spend the day in forgetfulness of Thee. Rather from these moments of quietness let light go forth, and joy, and power, that will remain with me through all the hours of the day; | |
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Keeping me chaste in thought: Keeping me temperate and truthful in speech: Keeping me faithful and diligent in my work: Keeping me honourable and generous in my dealings with others: Keeping me loyal to every hallowed memory of the past: Keeping me mindful of my eternal destiny as a child of Thine. |
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| O God, who has been the Refuge of my fathers through many generations, be my Refuge today in every time and circumstance of need. Be my guide though all that is dark and doubtful. Be my guard against all that threatens my spirit’s welfare. Be my strength in time of testing. Gladden my heart with Thy peace; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen. |
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A Diary of Private Prayer
John Baillie 1949
I mull over this phrase from time to time as I consider the many opportunities I’ve had, the many opportunities I’ve botched and the many opportunities I’ve either missed or passed up through the years. The missed and passed up opportunities have probably hounded me as much or more than the opportunities I’ve botched. Usually, but not always, I’ve had or take a second opportunity to repair or at least attempt to make up for that botched opportunity and usually (but not always) things have turned out okay. But still, it’s those occasions I missed or passed up — those opportunities are the ones I most regret. It’s probably bcz I’ll never know what could have come out of what should have been. But then… even as I share this I know this flies in the face of my strongly held belief that God is, indeed, sovereign. It is in these times I could be labeled a Calarminian. :-S I know God is sovereign and what will be will be — it’s just that I can’t ever seem to be fully reconciled to that fact in the face of missed or rejected passed up opportunities.
For example: I may botch up talking with someone about the Lord — I may get all intense or neglect to be succinct or whatever and come away feeling like I really messed up that opportunity to share the gospel, to draw someone into conversation and prayerfully into the kingdom. But then I must consider that faith is of the Lord, and that person’s redemption is of the Lord — though He does use cracked pots to pour out His message of salvation and redemption.
My missed opportunities or passed up opportunities have been those times, though I may not have recognized it at the time, when I clearly had the grace of God to do this or that thing and I frittered away the time or I didn’t make a call or I made the wrong call or I thought my way of handling a situation would suffice or whatever… and an opportunity to do good, to help, to encourage, to correct, to confess an offense or whatever was missed or lost.
I can’t go back and recreate those opportunities — but I can seek to correct losses and offenses and as I do so, I must leave the results to the Lord and then I can use those missed or passed up opportunities to prompt me the next time such an opportunity arises, presents itself or even seems to be present. God is mercifully helping me through the years in His loving kindness, all my missteps, my failings, miscommunications, misunderstandings, resentment, fears, regrets, losses, etc., etc., to watch — really watch — for opportunities and seek to not miss them. All these problems, especially in the last couple of years, have surely taught me that opportunities come and go — good ones and difficult ones, and it’s really imperative to daily be in the Word, to daily be in prayer, to keep short accounts and, perhaps above all, to seek God’s will and direction for each of the opportunities He brings my way.
This phrase continually comes to mind: “God does not call the equipped, He equips the called.” So, that being understood, as responsibilities go, I know that mine is to watch and receive, His is to present and provide, mine is to obey, His is to guide, mine is to be willing , His is to be filling, mine is to be poured out, His is to be glorified.
Opportunities come and go… O, that I would be found faithful in them.
After the most glorious event in all of history took place, and the veil of the Temple was rent in two, and the Lord had risen just. as. He. said… a new day dawned. And new days have been dawning ever since. But! there will come a time when all the dawns will cease and the day will come when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord. And on that day the books will be opened… and all the decisions that could’ve, should’ve, would’ve been made will be made known.
Is your name written in the Lamb’s book of life?
Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful Face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim: in the light of His glory and grace. In His Word, He tells us, that whosoever believes in Him shall not die but shall have everlasting life…. that there is no other name given among men whereby we must be saved… that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life… that *no* man comes unto the Father but by Him. He, Jesus, is the Resurrection and the Life — beside Him there is no other.
You can have full assurance of salvation today. It’s not by works of righteousness — or by any other thing — that you may attempt to do to gain favor with Him: It is only by faith in the shed blood of the Lord Jesus that you will be saved…. you can lay your burdens down at the foot of the Cross… the ground is level there. Truly… look and see. You will find Him if you seek Him with all of your heart. He is already there for you. He already knows you……..
His finished work on the Cross, through faith in Him that is risen from the dead — by faith you receive eternal life through Him who conquered death on the cross and gives life eternal because He sits at the right hand of the Father and ever lives to make intercession for you. For you. For me. For all who will take freely the gift of redemption by faith in Him alone — who alone does all things well.
As you walk the weary road today. Turn your eyes upon Jesus. All of history — His story — was created by Him and for Him. Jesus is the wisdom of God… and He loves you with an everlasting love.
I pray you will take His hand… it’s outstretched for you… nothing is too hard for the LORD and His arm is not shortened that it cannot save — even to the uttermost. May God bless you. all. of. your. days.
Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead “I will come next Tuesday”, I promised a little reluctantly on her third call. 
It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.
For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.
“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”
A year ago… it was cold. A year ago it was rainy and dark clouds loomed overhead when the drops weren’t falling. I thought Springtime would never come as I looked out the chilly windows. And though the willow tree had just begun to show signs of lacey spring-green leaves, it was hard to imagine the nearness of Springtime as I looked out at the leafless branches of the walnut, hazelnut, apple, pear and plum trees. Today’s much the same.
But as I mull this over, I have to also give thanks and praise to the LORD who only does all things well. I must praise Him for His order, for His creation, for His perfect timing and for His gracious provisions. For who could give such a scent to Hyacinth’s or beauty to Snowdrops & Crocuses? And though there are few signs of beauty in the rose garden, how loving of the LORD to create the dazzling beauty to the serene Daffodils and Jonquils. As I gaze out the windows and see them ringing the willow tree or in clusters in the rose garden, I cannot help but stop and thank the LORD for His majesty and grace. For who else could’ve created such loveliness? As the Daffodils look like teacups swaying in the breeze or bright yellow-faced smiling dancers — dancing before Him. And for me. Promises of brighter tomorrows.
So, a year ago I was listening to that song: Spring Time’s Coming… and listening to it again today reminded me of God’s great grace and mercy on us from that time to this. I remember writing specifically about this song that Wes played for me each morning as my “wake up music” _here_ and I have to smile today as I think back on one year ago and the Co-incident of the fulfillment of that song. Springtime indeed came and with also, “right before our eyes God had the sweetest surprise…”
A year ago I was sitting at the table and the UPS man came and brought a package — well, I wasn’t expecting anything so I thought maybe Wes had ordered something — but that, too, seemed odd bcz the very seasonal swimming pool business hadn’t really started for the year yet. So when I called Wes to ask him about the package, he asked who it was from and when I replied that it was from UPS, he said, “Open it, open it!” As I propped my phone between my ear and shoulder, I removed the outer wrapping to fine that the box contained a wrapped package. Again, “Open it, open it!” As I unwrapped the package, the pages I found on top began to detail a puzzling story… each page more confounding than the previous. A beautiful letter. Itinerary. Accommodations. A comprehensive guide book and car rental. “What?!?!” “Are you sure?!?!” Nearly speechless and rereading in stunned disbelief I wondered how could this possibly be?!? Fully and completely anonymous — how could they know that was our dream honeymoon plan that hadn’t ever been possible? How could they know the song? How could they…. but God?
Even now, one year later — knowing what I know now — I’m still rather in stunned disbelief over the glorious trip that package detailed and then was gratefully experienced for two weeks in Hawai’i. That God in His sweet mercy would have me hear a song for many weeks to the arrival of that package — right before my eyes… the sweetest surprise… all the new things He had planned to colour our world.
Through this year as we’ve fondly looked back on the sweetest days we’ve ever spent together, we’ve chuckled that we both would jump up at this very moment to go there again — but at the same time, we don’t really even hope for such a surprise as that again for the amazing gift surely seemed to be a once in a lifetime dream — a lovely dream — one we treasure and will never forget (with love and forever thanks to Aloha-for-reals).
Another birthday for one of our children. Another day to reflect on the many blessings, provisions and calling of the Lord on this son’s life — the golden child, the brothers and sisters call him. We all have a smile when someone says this or refers to him in this manner. They all know they are — each one to me — a golden child, though they’d insist he is the golden child. ~smile~
So another year, another birthday… another celebration that doesn’t look like one here tonight. We’ll make up for it when he returns from Africa in a couple of months — but for now, we have had a day of reflection, stories and melancholy, misty eyes. Well, maybe that was just me with the misty eyes most all day today. It’s not that I want him to stay around here — I really don’t — but he’s such a delightful person… just missing him especially much today as I’ve been reflecting on the many things that have been particular to him. I think back on his love for anything-pooh-bear to his love for a favourite blanket and the shiny blond hair of his younger years. In those days his hair was cut much longer than he’d ever wear it today — in a “bowl cut” — the same style of haircut I gave to each of the other boys before and after him in their younger years. Two brothers older and four younger than him. Funny to hear them talk now of how they all loved their hair that way — what they don’t know is that it was the only cut for young boys I knew how to do very well. I glanced at a pooh bear today… stopping for a moment to remember… and smiled.
One of the wonderful advantages of the passage of time is that we accumulate many stories and happy memories — these both bless us and bring us tears when a day such as this comes along. And while we all miss him for as many different reasons as there’ve been minutes in this day, we’re blessed by the knowledge that he’s right where he ought to be. And somehow, that makes everything perfect. Just as a cake & ice cream would be the perfect thing to serve were he to be here at home tonight.
I’ve been reflecting on God’s tender preparations for me for these years — and in different ways, He’s actually prepared all of us for these days. Showing Himself strong on our behalf, He’s orchestrated quite a mixture of joys and sorrows — gains and losses — working everything together for our good and His glory. I see this more and more clearly as the years pass.
So, Timothy’s in Africa… adding another birthday to the number of birthdays he’s spent away from home. I’ll get used to this — perhaps, in a way, I already am. I think of the years he’s been in Mexico or in Africa and each time I recall, as I’ve done today, that there’s really no place I’d rather have him be. In the hand of the Lord, anywhere in the world, is the safest and best place to be. He’s there ministering to the saints, visiting different remote villages and participating in ministering and teaching in Bible seminars. The opportunities have been a great source of joy and blessing to him as he spends time with old friends and new. So you see how I could not wish for him to be here and miss all that.
Once again my heart is filled with thanksgiving — knowing I don’t deserve the great honour and privilege of all these years of motherhood. My thoughts linger here tonight… thankful for a son who’s in the gracious and merciful hand of the Lord. God’s been so very kind to Timothy.
May you always be blessed. ♥