I have noticed in the armor of God, we have a shield to block the fiery darts of the enemy, but we do not have bows or arrows. Apparently we are meant for hand to hand combat. That is certainly how it feels when I am fighting temptation. Christ has won the war, and when we are with him we will enjoy the spoils. Meanwhile we battle our Enemy, the sin in the world, and the sin in us. We are not alone, we are part of the army that is the church. We know a battle rages around us--the clash of two great forces, but we cannot concern ourselves with that. We must focus only on the foe in front of us.
One of the problems is that our attackers are like those in video games, the sins we think we have conquered spring back to life. The good news is, so do we. Our defeats are only temporary. And if they leave us exhausted from the effort, we are also better prepared for the next attack. Christian soldiers do not get to fire arrows from safety behind a wall, as if we could eradicate sin all at once. We fight hand to hand, sin by sin, one foe at a time.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Monday, February 22, 2016
New Perspective
On our last trip to Missoula it really bothered me that my car was so dirty. This is winter in Montana--snow melts, slush splashes on your car, if you wash it, it will get splashed again when you leave the car wash--and your doors might freeze shut. However, I was more worried about hitting a deer on our way home, since my husband had hit one the week before. Technically, the deer hit him, but his car couldn't tell the difference. So I insisted on an early departure from Missoula to lessen the likelihood of deer dents, although most of the dead deer I saw on the way there were between Kalispell and Lakeside. So we left Missoula in time to get most of the way home before sunset. We even had time to stop in Polson for dinner. While I was at the salad bar, I heard a woman say "gold Impala". We drive a gold Impala, I knew she did not have good news.
Actually it was mixed news, she had backed into our car--that was bad, but she came to find us instead of driving off--that was good, she offered to pay for the damage--also good, but she didn't want to go through insurance--that was scary. I understand the feeling of being an insurance hostage. We pay for auto insurance for decades, but are afraid to use it lest they make the price to not use it even higher. We were sympathetic, but not stupid. There is a big difference between admitting the damage and writing the check. So my husband took pictures of the damage, had her write a statement admitting responsibility, and had the restaurant manager sign as witness.
It's funny how your perspective changes. Suddenly it no longer mattered that my car was dirty. I told Reed he might as well hit a deer. He did drive over one that had already been hit, but managed to straddle it so there were no deer parts mixed with the dirt on our car. The damage was fixed in a week, her check arrived days before the paint dried. My Impala looked not only undamaged, but shiny and new. Then more snow melted. Now it is dirty. No big deal. New perspective.
Actually it was mixed news, she had backed into our car--that was bad, but she came to find us instead of driving off--that was good, she offered to pay for the damage--also good, but she didn't want to go through insurance--that was scary. I understand the feeling of being an insurance hostage. We pay for auto insurance for decades, but are afraid to use it lest they make the price to not use it even higher. We were sympathetic, but not stupid. There is a big difference between admitting the damage and writing the check. So my husband took pictures of the damage, had her write a statement admitting responsibility, and had the restaurant manager sign as witness.
It's funny how your perspective changes. Suddenly it no longer mattered that my car was dirty. I told Reed he might as well hit a deer. He did drive over one that had already been hit, but managed to straddle it so there were no deer parts mixed with the dirt on our car. The damage was fixed in a week, her check arrived days before the paint dried. My Impala looked not only undamaged, but shiny and new. Then more snow melted. Now it is dirty. No big deal. New perspective.
Holding Hands
Since I posted this on Facebook, I forgot to post it in my blog. It is a Valentine's Day poem I wrote for the husband who has held my hand and heart for nearly forty years.
Holding Hands
We still hold hands,
but they are old hands
with age spots, crepey skin,
yet warm enough.
Those early years
short on money
long on kids, holding jobs,
just holding on.
And later on
our children have grown
our savings too, leisure
time,
enjoying life.
Decades ago
I knew this day would come,
growing old, side by side,
still holding hands.
3 1/2 Years
In the book of Revelation I am studying this year in BSF, there is significance to the time period three and a half years. It occurs five times either as years, 42 months or 1260 days, which is half of the seven year tribulation period. But three and a half years is also the length of Elijah's drought, the approximate length of Jesus' earthly ministry and Paul's training by Christ in the desert. More significant to me personally is the three and a half years I spent in the school of depression, which included times of drought, ministry and training.
And I am not the only one. As I entered those dark times, a friend told me he had previously been depressed for three and a half years. At the time I thought I could not survive if mine lasted that long, but here I am. Another friend I was talking to recently realized that a period of trial that appears to be ending in her life has also lasted three and a half years. It made me wonder how long my current time of tribulation will last. When do I start the timer? Do I count from our son's accident in September, losing our granddaughter when our son and her mother broke up the March before, or when we lost our unborn grandchild that January? I vote for January, not only because it would make the testing over sooner, but because that was a very hard time for us. In our mostly unspoken way, my husband and I have been in mourning since the baby I called Peanut died.
I would like to think this time of testing and training will not last too long, but I do not have unrealistic expectations about the length of our son's rehab. Suffering is a painful part of life, but it is also purposeful. It is an essential element of the all things God works together for good in our lives. (Rom. 8:28) Suffering shows us the sufficiency of God's sovereignty. It is a lesson I intend to learn, even if it takes me three and a half years.
And I am not the only one. As I entered those dark times, a friend told me he had previously been depressed for three and a half years. At the time I thought I could not survive if mine lasted that long, but here I am. Another friend I was talking to recently realized that a period of trial that appears to be ending in her life has also lasted three and a half years. It made me wonder how long my current time of tribulation will last. When do I start the timer? Do I count from our son's accident in September, losing our granddaughter when our son and her mother broke up the March before, or when we lost our unborn grandchild that January? I vote for January, not only because it would make the testing over sooner, but because that was a very hard time for us. In our mostly unspoken way, my husband and I have been in mourning since the baby I called Peanut died.
I would like to think this time of testing and training will not last too long, but I do not have unrealistic expectations about the length of our son's rehab. Suffering is a painful part of life, but it is also purposeful. It is an essential element of the all things God works together for good in our lives. (Rom. 8:28) Suffering shows us the sufficiency of God's sovereignty. It is a lesson I intend to learn, even if it takes me three and a half years.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
How Wisdom Grows
The Bible tells us how to grow patience. James 1:2-3 tells us patience grows in the mixed soil of faith and trials. In other words, patience increases through the times that we desperately need it. So what about wisdom? Both Psalms and Proverbs state that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. If that is the root, then how do we nurture the plant? I am afraid the answer is the same. Wisdom grows in the potting soil of trials, when we have no idea what to do, in the times that we desperately need it.
I am in one of those growing seasons. I have prayed for wisdom because God has promised to give it, but He does not pour it in our ear while we sleep. Wisdom is like a muscle and, like all other aspects of becoming Christlike, we have to work at making it stronger. And it becomes stronger when we stretch and strain to reach the right decision, to say the right thing, to fan a fading flicker of faith until it can dispel the darkness. Wisdom is not a destination, it is a journey. And we do not reach it, we just read the signs along the way that show we are getting closer. When you can be content and faithful on that journey, knowing you will never arrive--that's wisdom.
I am in one of those growing seasons. I have prayed for wisdom because God has promised to give it, but He does not pour it in our ear while we sleep. Wisdom is like a muscle and, like all other aspects of becoming Christlike, we have to work at making it stronger. And it becomes stronger when we stretch and strain to reach the right decision, to say the right thing, to fan a fading flicker of faith until it can dispel the darkness. Wisdom is not a destination, it is a journey. And we do not reach it, we just read the signs along the way that show we are getting closer. When you can be content and faithful on that journey, knowing you will never arrive--that's wisdom.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Cheap Tickets
Many months ago, my husband and I reserved a mid-March condo week in Hawaii so I have been checking airfares periodically, despite knowing most of the good deals are published 6 to 8 weeks before you fly. As we approached the six week window and the airfares were still in the $800 - $900 range, instead of the $600 - $700 I was hoping for, I was getting desperate. Most of the decent airfares involved leaving from Missoula and spending a night in an airport one or both ways. I was looking for the least inconvenient way to do this when a Cheap Tickets' pop up showed a $700 fare from Kalispell to Lihue. Since four of the five travelers live in Kalispell, not Missoula, this was exciting.
But I became skeptical of good airfares in December when I was trying to book a flight to Oakland through CheapOair and another similar sounding website. After filling out the traveler and payment info, the promised $450 tickets turned out to be twice that much. If they thought I would pay double just because I had spent so much time inputting data, they obviously don't understand cheapskates. So I was zipping through the passenger and payment information on the Cheap Tickets website with little hope of actually booking them. That is why I didn't notice my typo in Reed's last name, which I should know how to spell because it has been the same as mine for 38 1/2 years. I had booked a ticket for Reed Kamb. In the days of customer service by humans, this would have been easy to correct, but on a multi-airline website, not so much.
Like most websites, Cheap Tickets customer service consists of printed answers to FAQs, frequently asked questions. The answer for misspelled names was to send an e-mail attaching Reed's passport. I scanned it into our desktop, but it disappeared from there. I couldn't find a way to attach it to the e-mail. Strike one. Unlike many travel websites, this one allowed free cancellation within 32 hours, however, if I sent them an e-mail about correcting the misspelling, they had 48 hours to respond. Strike two. Also like most websites, the customer service phone number was carefully hidden, but I managed to find it. I set my cell to speakerphone and prepared for a long siege. Eventually my call was answered by "Shasta" who was patient, helpful, and really slow. While she cancelled Mr. Kamb's reservation, I was online booking one for Mr. Lamb. This required some coordination because, in order to have Reed sit with the rest of us, Shasta reassigned the other seats while I selected his. I would gladly have paid extra for her to do this for me, but they were not allowed to book at that location. The website said there were only two cheap tickets left, so I would have preferred Shasta's speed over her patience, but that didn't matter because Visa kept declining my transaction. Apparently Visa flagged my rebooking attempts as fraud. Strike three.
So, in case I hadn't had enough phone time, I got to spend a little more calling the phone numbers on the back of my Visa card. Admittedly, it was my mistake that I called the Marriott Rewards number instead of Chase Bank, so the time I wasted navigating their voice recognition phone tree saying "representative!" was all my fault. At the end of the Chase phone tree, I found one of those nice young men from India, who have American names. "Jeremy" agreed to approve the transaction so I could buy that last cheap ticket. A one letter typo cost me three hours of my life. I managed to accomplish all this without losing my sanity or most of my sanctification, but I did require chocolate to recover. Lots and lots of chocolate.
But I became skeptical of good airfares in December when I was trying to book a flight to Oakland through CheapOair and another similar sounding website. After filling out the traveler and payment info, the promised $450 tickets turned out to be twice that much. If they thought I would pay double just because I had spent so much time inputting data, they obviously don't understand cheapskates. So I was zipping through the passenger and payment information on the Cheap Tickets website with little hope of actually booking them. That is why I didn't notice my typo in Reed's last name, which I should know how to spell because it has been the same as mine for 38 1/2 years. I had booked a ticket for Reed Kamb. In the days of customer service by humans, this would have been easy to correct, but on a multi-airline website, not so much.
Like most websites, Cheap Tickets customer service consists of printed answers to FAQs, frequently asked questions. The answer for misspelled names was to send an e-mail attaching Reed's passport. I scanned it into our desktop, but it disappeared from there. I couldn't find a way to attach it to the e-mail. Strike one. Unlike many travel websites, this one allowed free cancellation within 32 hours, however, if I sent them an e-mail about correcting the misspelling, they had 48 hours to respond. Strike two. Also like most websites, the customer service phone number was carefully hidden, but I managed to find it. I set my cell to speakerphone and prepared for a long siege. Eventually my call was answered by "Shasta" who was patient, helpful, and really slow. While she cancelled Mr. Kamb's reservation, I was online booking one for Mr. Lamb. This required some coordination because, in order to have Reed sit with the rest of us, Shasta reassigned the other seats while I selected his. I would gladly have paid extra for her to do this for me, but they were not allowed to book at that location. The website said there were only two cheap tickets left, so I would have preferred Shasta's speed over her patience, but that didn't matter because Visa kept declining my transaction. Apparently Visa flagged my rebooking attempts as fraud. Strike three.
So, in case I hadn't had enough phone time, I got to spend a little more calling the phone numbers on the back of my Visa card. Admittedly, it was my mistake that I called the Marriott Rewards number instead of Chase Bank, so the time I wasted navigating their voice recognition phone tree saying "representative!" was all my fault. At the end of the Chase phone tree, I found one of those nice young men from India, who have American names. "Jeremy" agreed to approve the transaction so I could buy that last cheap ticket. A one letter typo cost me three hours of my life. I managed to accomplish all this without losing my sanity or most of my sanctification, but I did require chocolate to recover. Lots and lots of chocolate.
Friday, January 8, 2016
The Sons of the Eunuch
The Bible records only one Ethiopian coming to faith in Christ. It is an unusual story. In Acts 8, God calls Philip away from a successful preaching ministry in Samaria to an out of the way destination where, by divine circumstance, he encounters an unnamed Ethiopian official. As was not unusual for court officials of that time, he was a eunuch. God himself did the prep work by having the eunuch, an apparent convert to Judaism, read from Isaiah about the suffering savior at the moment Philip showed up. Talk about an opening for the gospel. Philip began with that passage to teach about Christ. The eunuch responded in faith right away, requested baptism at the first body of water they came to, then Philip was miraculously whisked away by the Spirit to another area of ministry.
Why did God so uniquely pursue an unnamed traveler who didn't even have a family to carry on his faith? Because God knew that millennia of Christians would be born of that eunuch's faith. There are still believers in Ethiopia and there, like so many other places, they are being martyred by Muslim extremists. They are the spiritual sons of the eunuch. This is my tribute to them.
Why did God so uniquely pursue an unnamed traveler who didn't even have a family to carry on his faith? Because God knew that millennia of Christians would be born of that eunuch's faith. There are still believers in Ethiopia and there, like so many other places, they are being martyred by Muslim extremists. They are the spiritual sons of the eunuch. This is my tribute to them.
The Sons of the Eunuch
The sons of the eunuch are dying
in Ethiopia, slain.
Dying because they are Christians,
martyred for Jesus' name.
Spiritual sons of a father
unnamed in the Bible's pages,
but in those that came after him,
his faith lives on through the ages
his faith lives on through the ages
.
The ways of God are mysterious,
but the will of Christ is plain,
He lives through the sons of the eunuch,
and they die to live again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)