Don't Let Goodness Go

Though I have never yet sat through a sermon without Papa pointing out areas in my life that need improvement, I am often struck even more soundly by some word or phrase, mentioned in passing, that sticks with me and continually tugs at my heart until I am forced to do something with it.  My pastor let loose one such phrase this past Sunday night.  In the midst of a sermon on thankfulness, Brother Shane made the following statement, "Don't let goodness go."  As soon as it was out of his mouth, I was writing it down in my Bible.  "How appropriate," I thought, "and how needed."

Image borrowed from www.vitesse.com

In this modern, hurried, over-worked, and over-burdened society, we have countless things that we are asked to concern ourselves with.  Nearly every media outlet begs us to focus our attention on one tragedy or another.  There is war in the middle east.  Fatal shootings in the next city.  A case of child abuse, drug use, rape just a few streets over.  Our economy is struggling if not failing outright.  Our insurance is expensive if it even exists at all, and everything causes cancer.  We are inundated daily with a message of hate, hypocrisy, and negativity, and it is killing us... and that is exactly what the enemy desires.  When he can use the evil that seems to grow daily in a fallen world to separate us from the source of our strength, the battle that we are fighting is already lost.  Nehemiah 8:10 reminds us that the joy of the Lord is our strength;  if we, then, allow that joy to be stolen from us, then all satan must contend with is a disgruntled group of churchgoers who honor God with their lips but are unable to tap into the strength that they were always meant to have.  

Paul, perhaps more than any other figure in the New Testament, understood the fact that joy is essential, and that joy comes from focusing on the good things of this world rather than dwelling in negativity.  In Romans, he cautions the church to "cleave to that which is good."  In the original Hebrew, this term might be translated as "to glue to."  Paul's emphasis here cannot be understated.  We must hang on to goodness for dear life and refuse to let go.  We must practice goodness.  We must do good works.  We must focus on the good things around us.  Continually refusing to do so, continually focusing on the negative allows the enemy a foothold, a stronghold, by which he can overcome the believer.  Several times throughout his letters to the churches, Paul warns us to hold fast to that which is good, understanding that it is only possible to overcome evil by doing so  (Rom 12:21).

Image borrowed from http://chipstokesblog.blogspot.com

In his letter to the church at Phillipi, Paul reaches the height of his teachings concerning our focus on goodness and joy.  The Phillipian church was not only the first church at which Paul preached in Europe, but it is a shining example of what a church should be.  They never failed to support Paul in his ministry, and their goodness and faithfulness left a testimony that has lasted for nearly 2000 years. In fact, Paul tells the Phillipians that he thanks God for every memory that he has of them, noting that they were the only church to consistently provide for him (Php 4:15).  Thier love and charity would be (at least in part) what sustained Paul through his time in prison.  It is in his letter to them that he notes that he has learned to find joy and contentment even in bondage, and cautions them to remember that no matter the situation, it is vitally important to focus on the good and to never, under any circumstances, let goodness go:  "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things (Php 4:8). 

'Twas the Night We Call Christmas

‘Twas the night we call Christmas and all through the land,

Light from a new star shone down upon man.

That star had been hung in the sky with great care;

A sign of the love that God would soon share.

The shepherds were resting; the flock had been fed,

When an angel of God stirred them from their beds.

“Fear not,” she said, “peace and joy do I bring,

Glad tidings from God of our newborn king.”

Across the whole world there arose such a clatter,

Old satan leaped up to see what was the matter.

Away to King Herod’s he flew like a flash:

“Kill all the children; the world’s hopes to dash.”

But that light was still shining on wise men below

And to Herod’s the wise men were destined to go.

But the angel of god to their eyes did appear,

And kept from King Herod the boy child most dear.

Away in a manger this miraculous night,

The Christ-child was born, a marvelous light.

For weeks mother Mary had expected the same.

An Angel had come and called her by name.

His name shall be Jesus, both Savior and King.

The Light of the World of whom heaven shall sing.

The true lamb of God, called Emmanuel,

Whose hands hold the keys to both death and hell.

On bended knee this world will before him fall,

And proclaim him as King – the true lord of all.

To Bethlehem shepherds and wise men did fly

To see the Christ-child whose star lit the sky.

They all brought their gifts and sincere praises, too,

To a child who, in love, would make all things new.

You see, as a man, he would climb Calvary’s hill,

And for a word full of sin, his blood he would spill.

Beaten and bruised, as his body fell slack,

He would heal the whole word through the stripes on his back.

But this season’s meaning has somehow been lost;

We fight over presents. We worry about cost.

And many forget what they once used to know:

That the real gift of Christmas wasn’t tied with a bow.

It was not wrapped in paper and put under a tree,

But his life and his death was for just you and me.

So this Christmas season, remember the joy

That was brought to this earth by this one little boy.

One thought from you could spread so much cheer,

And put a smile on the face of so many folks here.

So please take some time and don’t turn up your nose,

And you’ll see just how far this Christmas love goes.

It might change the whole world, the act of just one:

A thimble of love now turned into a ton.

So keep these thoughts with you as I bid you goodbye,

And remember, this Christmas, that star in the sky.

The World Unseen

In the day-to-day life of the average believer, it is easy to forget the realities of the world in which we live.  We rise early, perhaps spend a little time in devotion, and then meander through our day focused on our job, on the bills, on the thousand little things that distract us from the plan God has for our lives and the war that is raging around us in an attempt to divert us from that plan.  It is in the midst of these distractions that we fail, falter, and ultimately lose the battle because we have attempted to fight a spiritual war with earthly weapons, forgetting that, ultimately, the battle is not ours. 

Image borrowed from www.wesleyanchurchofthecross.com

Hebrews 11:1 states that faith is the substance, the material from which the things we hope for are made, and the evidence, the proof, of the things we cannot see. The book of 2 Corinthians (4:18) takes this a step further when Paul tells us that “we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”  Too often we forget or simply discard this powerful fact and it creates a mountain of confusion, doubt, and even anger in our lives.  When we focus on the world that is seen, we become distracted and discouraged; when we focus on the world unseen, we come to understand that there are forces at work that are beyond us and that we must rely fully upon the One whose ways and thoughts are higher than our own if we are to (truly) live. 

One story of the prophet Elisha reminds us of this fact and illustrates the difficulties many of us have in these situations. The king of Syria is at war with Israel.  He has formulated his battle plans, consulted his generals, and is now discussing ways in which he might ambush the armies of Israel; however, his plans, no matter how well-concealed, are, time after time, discovered by the Israelites.  The king of Syria immediately jumps to a logical, albeit worldly conclusion: “There must be a spy among us.”  Confronting his staff however, reveals the truth.  It is no spy; it is Elisha the prophet who can tell the king of Israel “the words that thou speakest in thy bedchamber.” (2 Kin 6: 11-12)  Isn’t it amazing how easily we forget that the secret things of this world are an open book to God?  Without raising a finger to spy out the plans of Syria, Elisha is quietly informed by God of the plans of the enemy.  The same can hold true in the life of the believer.  If we can come to rely fully on God’s provision, the plans and pitfalls that the enemy has set for us can be quietly revealed to us so that our feet always find the lighted path; however, just like a whisper from a friend, hearing from God is dependent on two things:  we must be close and we must be listening

This type of closeness coupled with a willingness to do what God has asked us to will always create conflict with the enemy.  Any time that we pose a threat to his designs; any time that we begin to work and live in a way that will bring people to Christ, the enemy immediately begins to find ways to take us out of the picture.  With Elisha, the king of Syria assumed that this would be easy.  He called his generals and sent forth an army to Dothan to bring Elisha back to Syria.  Horses, chariots, soldiers… all moved quietly through the night to surround the city for the sole purpose of bringing Elisha down (2 Kin 6: 13-14). You see, Elisha was close, and he was listening, and through him, God was very neatly forestalling the plans of the enemy, and so the king of Syria, in perfect imitation of the god of this world, launched a sneak attack.  It is these attacks, the ones that come in the night, that so often knock us off of our feet to land face first in the muck and the mire from which we have been so often rescued.  The attacks that we see are easier to defend; it is the attacks that we don’t see (or don’t recognize as an attack) that are the most dangerous.  The sudden loss of a job.  Of a child.  An unlooked-for divorce.  A cancer diagnosis.  All of these can, and often do, blindside us and, if we aren’t close or if we aren’t listening, we are taken by surprise and our faith fails us.

Image borrowed from walkhumblywithgod.wordpress.com

This sneak attack (and our subsequent loss of faith) is often compounded by the comments and opinions of those around us.  Elisha was no different.  His servant rose early, no doubt to attend some business, and discovered the host sent by the king of Syria.  His immediate response was not one of faith, or trust, or even prayerfulness.  His first response was panic.  “Alas, my master!  How shall we do?”  Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Elisha’s servant runs back to him in a frenzy.  He, like so many of us, could only see part of what was going on.  Eyes focused on that which he could see, he had forgotten to account for that which he could not.  I can see the smirk on Elisha’s face as his servant comes in with a story of death and destruction.  I can see that smirk widen to a smile as he patiently gets up and walks to the door, not rushed or anxious in the least.  I can see his eyes twinkle as he surveys the scene and quietly turns to his friend and in a voice that doesn’t shake or tremble, says “Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.”  Then, in an act of kindness, Elisha takes the time (in front of an army that wants nothing more than to put him in chains) to pray for his servant: “LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see” (2 Kin 6: 15-17). Then, in a moment, the world and the world unseen became as one, and Elisha’s servant came to understand that which Elisha had known all along:  one is outnumbering force if God is with him.  There, on the mountains, was an army of fire waiting on the command of God or a cry for help from his prophet. 

It is easy to focus on the things around us – the storms that threaten to shake us to our very core – and to become disheartened and discouraged.  It is easy to allow those around us to add to the distraction and discouragement.  Paul understood this.  He understood what it was like to be fought against, to hunger, to thirst, but Paul also understood that just because we can’t see the army that stands ready to fight for us does not mean that it isn’t there, it only means that we need to take our eyes off of what we can see and focus on that which we can’t. 

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body… For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

(2Co 4:8-10, 16-18)

Studies in Ruth

During those times of faltering faith, those night seasons in the lives of the children of God, we are often presented with a choice: to rely on the provision of God, or to seek help elsewhere.  This choice, whenever presented, often leads to dire consequences.  Lot ended up in the land of Sodom and Gomorrah because he chose the provision of the land rather than that of God.  Elijah finds himself under the juniper tree by allowing Jezebel’s voice to sound more loudly than the voice of God.  More than one king in the Old Testament lost their kingdom because they set their eyes on the things around them rather than on the laws and statutes of the Almighty.  But perhaps the best illustration of the troubles of wrong choices and the redemptive process that often follows is in the Old Testament story of Ruth. 

The children of God were hit by a famine during the time of the judges, and Elimelech, the patriarch of this particular story, chose to sojourn in Moab with his wife and his two sons.  In effect, Elimelech left the promised land of God and returned to the country out of which God had brought them.  In the first lines of the story, we see the choice set before Elimelech, and the consequences are disastrous.  Elimelech and his two sons die in the land of Moab and leave their wives behind destitute.  Here we can see the picture of so many modern families where the father has made the wrong choices, following anything (everything) but God, and the family, just as happens here, is left to try and pick itself up and dust itself off.  It is important to note that the devastation here could have continued; when we continue in a place in our lives where God has no desire for us to be, we are open to the attacks of the enemy and often find that our situation continually worsens.  But Naomi, much like many single mothers, keeps her ear to the ground, searching for aid, when she receives a word in due season:  God’s provision has come to children of Israel.  For her, the choice is easy:  she will return to the land of her people and trust that God, even though his hand seems to be against her, will provide.

Now, with the choices of Elimelech and Naomi behind them, Ruth and Orpah are faced with a decision of their own:  to remain in Moab or to return with Naomi to the land promised of God to her people.  Orpah returns to Moab, and passes out of scripture completely, while Ruth, in a declaration of love and faith, says:

Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.

(Rth 1:16-17)

The choices of Elimelech had condemned the family, but ultimately, it will be the choices of Naomi and Ruth that save them, and the amazing thing here is in the fact that it only took one.  Naomi had decided to return to her people, and that was certainly wise, but the choice of faith is made by Ruth.  When we step out on faith and say to God, “where you go I’ll go, and where you stay I’ll stay” we provide him with the permission to work actively in our lives and on our behalf.  Ruth, by exercising her faith, had opened the floodgates of heaven and allowed God to make her paths straight – straight, but not without difficulty.

One of the easiest deceptions to fall prey to is that the life of the believer is made easy by their belief.  Ask

any true Christian who has been in the way for any length of time, and they will quickly tell you that there are still battles to be fought and struggles to be overcome.  Ruth, without anything to recommend her, found herself in a land of strangers.  Rather than sulk and beg, Ruth began to work.  In the corners of the fields, where tares in the wheat abound, she began to gather, to work, and to pray that someone might show her kindness.  It was this attitude of faith followed by work that allowed God to lead her to field of Boaz.  The direct translation of the Hebrew is that “her chance chanced” to work the field of Boaz.  The phrasing here indicates that it was not chance at all, but the provision of a loving Father who was pleased with his servant.  This chance of chances led her directly to Boaz, one of the handful of people who could redeem her from the situation in which she found herself.  Boaz immediately recognizes something different about this woman, this foreigner who works without a break insistent on helping to provide for what remains of her family.  Her work is such that the master of the field in which she is working singles her out for praise and lays her favor around her like a blanket, giving her the easiest tasks and allowing her to drink of water that she had not drawn.

 This, then, becomes the shining example of favor in the lives of the believer; when we step out on faith and begin to work, not only where God wants us to, but in the way that he desires us to, we step into a realm of favor that we may have never before known.  Too many people often miss their blessing because they believe that the task God has set for them is demeaning, beneath them, or is simply not the area in which they hoped to work.  It is not for us to question the directions of God, but to confirm that it is his direction, and then to advance the gospel in that direction with all of our heart.  Paul says,

“Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Are all workers of miracles? Have all the gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret? But covet earnestly the best gifts: and yet shew I unto you a more excellent way (1Co 12:29-31). 

The goal is not to chase the flashiest gifts and callings, but to work on that parcel of ground that God has given each of us, individually, until we see that plot of ground, small though it may be, begin to bear fruit.  But we must also have within us that streak of boldness that allows us to advance when others would simply grow content. 

Until Ruth made it home that evening, she knew only that she had found favor in the eyes of the landowner for whom she had worked.  God, however, rarely works so simply.  She came home that evening with an ephah of barley and told her mother-in-law of the favor that she had found.  Naomi is ecstatic.  She understands immediately the true gift that God has given them.  Boaz is a near kinsman, one of the few who remain that can bring them out of their poverty-stricken situation.  He is one of a handful who has the legal authority to lay claim to the property that once belonged to the men of the family and restore it to these two widows and any sons they may produce.  Rather than simply wait, Naomi, true to form, begins to act.  She recognizes the opportunity before them and moves upon it immediately, providing Ruth with a set of instructions that would provide them with the greatest chance of true redemption.  In one of the most beautiful and touching scenes in all the Bible, Ruth, unfamiliar with the customs of the land but recognizing the need in her life for a redeemer, rises, washes, and anoints herself, and then proceeds to fall at the feet of Boaz, begging for redemption.

It is in this act of faith that we can see the place that every sinner must come to prior to salvation.  We must

recognize how much in need we are of a savior, of a kinsmen redeemer to pull us from our situation, and then, dignity and pride abandoned, we must fall at his feet, begging for mercy and grace to cover us completely.  Here, then, is the work of Christ laid out in simplistic detail.  For though we were enemies with God, God recognized the need of not only a sacrifice, but for a kinsman redeemer, one who was what we were always meant to be: a man who walked his entire life in the will of his Father; one who could lay claim by right of blood to the inheritance from which we had walked away; and one who would, willingly, walk up Calvary’s hill to present himself as a sacrifice that would redeem the debt between fallen man and loving God.

Daddy, are you talking to God?

Daddy, did you ever do drugs?  Yes, baby, I did.
Daddy, have you ever been drunk?  Yes, baby, I have.
Daddy, have you ever stolen something?  Yes, baby, I have.

There are a host of questions which my daughter might ask me that, much to my shame and in keeping with my promise to always be honest with my daughter, I would have to answer in the affirmative.  I can see these questions coming, a little down the road, and quite frankly, they scare me a little.  I must find a way to be honest with my daughter and to provide her with the guidance that she will need to avoid those pitfalls which I was unable to find my way around.  The life I have lived, and the struggles that I have faced, have left me with a laundry list of things that I wish I had not done, and I know that when she is old enough to ask, I will have to swallow my pride and admit to her that her father and his past are anything but perfect.  These were my choices, and part of the price that I will have to pay is the look in my daughter's eyes as she comes to terms with her father's imperfections, but all of this pales beside one of her first and most recent questions.

At two years old, my little one has just entered into that stage of life where everything becomes a question.  She wonders at the leaves on the trees, marvels at the stars in the sky, and questions the smallest of things.  And she watches.  She watches her mother and I as we move about our daily routine.  She notices little things to which we no longer pay the slightest attention.  She watches and understands more than I often realize.  Recently, I was wondering around the kitchen, engaged in one of those habits that has become so routine that, unless someone calls my attention to it, I don't even realize that I am doing it.  Suddenly I felt a sharp tug at the leg of my pants, and looked down to see a set of smiling blue eyes looking up at me.  In the sweetest voice imaginable, my daughter asked, in all seriousness, "Daddy, are you talking to God?" At that moment (and now, even as I write), tears came to my eyes, because lost in that moment, my daughter heard what I hadn't even realized I was doing.  Crying, grinning, laughing, I reached down and scooped her up in that hug that only a Daddy can give and I had the sincere privilege of saying, "Yes, baby, I am."

Yes, baby, I am.  Those four simple words were, for me, like a pat on the back from Papa.  I knew, even in that moment, all of the questions to which I might, one day, have to answer "Yes,"  but, thank God, the man that was standing in the kitchen holding the second most precious gift God had ever given him is not the same man that lost himself those years ago.  That man, that addict, that drunk, that thief is dead, and those sins are covered by the most precious gift ever given by God to fallen man, the life, death, burial, and resurrection of his son, Jesus Christ.  Because of that sacrifice, and a grace that has never, in 35 years, failed me, I find my self in a position where my daughter can, on some random Tuesday, tug on her daddy's pants leg and wonder, "Daddy, are you talking to God?" Yes, baby, I am.  I'm talking to him about the wonderful life he has given me.  I'm thanking him for you and for your Mama.  I'm thanking him for our home and for our jobs, and for the love of our family.  I'm thanking him for rescuing me from the place where I used to be and bringing me to the place where I am now.  I'm asking him for forgiveness for the (many) ways that I still fail him, and telling him how much I love him.

Yes, baby, I'm talking to God, and so can you.

Night Seasons

There comes a time, several times, in the life of every believer when darkness seems to descend, those things that bring us the most joy seem obscured, and our walk seems infinitely more difficult.  These times often descend without warning, and often come at the moment when we feel that, finally, we have earned a well-deserved rest.  If we are lucky, the darkness lasts for the briefest of moments before Christ steps out on the bow of the ship and whispers peace into the storms in our lives.  There are those times, however, when the darkness seems to last and we find ourselves alone in a crowded room, distant from those we love and from the joy that the presence of God brings.  These times are not some momentary faltering, easily overcome and just as easily forgotten; these are our night seasons, and as we continue our walk, we must learn to recognize and then respond to these desolate moments or risk finding ourselves lost, adrift, on a sea of endless storms.

Job, perhaps more so that any other biblical figure, recognized the true agony of night season. In Job 30:17, this model of patience and perseverance wrote, "In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest."  Beyond his health issues, beyond his loss, the feeling that God had withdrawn his protecting hand hurt Job more than he cared to admit. The pains of loss paled beside the distance from his source of joy.  Then, as usually happens, the problem was compounded by the betrayal of friends and the goading of enemies.  Caught in a storm the likes of which most will never see,  Job describes the feeling of a night season perfectly when he says that he is assaulted by terrors, his dignity is in shreds, and he feels like his salvation is up smoke (Job 30:15, MSG).  How many times have we felt this way?  Afraid of what might come, afraid of what others might think, afraid that we have, somehow, strayed too far from the mark and lost our way indefinitely... It is for this very reason that we must identify the night season and allow God to light our path.  

In scripture, we find that a night season often descends for one of three reasons: as as method of correction, from a need for consolation, or in a time of all-out spiritual warfare.  It was in the latter that Job found himself, attacked on all sides by an enemy that had been given only one restriction: he couldn't kill him.  In Job's case, death might have been merciful, but as with all spiritual attacks, the end result for a believer who perseveres is the glorification of God and a life where blessings are "pressed down, shaken together, and running over" (Luk 6:38)  In this (and my greatest failing is often here), perseverance is the key.  We must continue to war throughout the darkest of nights, knowing that no matter how we feel, we are not, and never have been alone.  We must fight with those weapons provided us (prayer and praise, worship and works, fasting and favor) until the enemy is driven back.  As always, our path follows directly the footsteps of Christ who had to suffer his own night season in the wilderness and again in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Each time, he held fast to the love of the Father and to those words that provide a "lamp unto our feet" even in the darkest of times.  

Perhaps even more prominent in our day to day spiritual walk is that night season brought on, not by an attack, but rather through discouragement and fear.  Very often, especially with Christians who are rooted in their faith, it is neither necessary, nor even prudent, for the enemy to send a direct attack.  These are often recognizable and, as such, many Christians find that they are able to resist them much more easily.  So, at least it seems to me, the fallback position of the enemy is a steady campaign designed not to tempt us from the path, but rather to get us to stop somewhere along the way.  Using a seemingly innocent comment here, an unsound piece of advice there, satan wages a covert war that causes us to begin to make excuses.  For Elijah, it came from Jezebel.  This man, who had seen over 400 false prophets of Baal consumed by holy fire, allowed a threat made by one angry woman to stop him in his tracks.  There was a goodly amount of fear, certainly, but I do not believe that it was fear alone that gave Elijah pause.  The path was difficult; his allies few, and due to this fact, Elijah, for forty days and nights, hid from the world and from the responsibility that God had given him...

  (If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll pause here while Papa uses my own words to give me a fatherly smack across the back of the head.) 

...God himself recognized that "the journey is too great" and so he allowed Elijah a moment to sulk before stepping in and asking, "Elijah, what are you doing?"  No matter the person being asked this question of God, the answer here is always the same: "Not what I am supposed to be doing."  I have come to love this story and to love God's solution to Elijah's night season.  Papa didn't just give Elijah a swift kick and send him on his way; he provided him with the one thing that made the rest of Elijah's journey possible: Elisha (1 Kin 18, 19). We must not undervalue the support of our brothers and sisters in Christ.  Moses took Aaron, David had Jonathan, even Christ himself gathered together the apostles.  It is in the small groups of fast friends that we find the support and encouragement we need to continue the journey.  

The final night season is perhaps the most frightening and the most dangerous.  We have all taken that step back, turned briefly away from that which we no to be right to chase after that which we (at least at the time) think will serve to make us happier, more popular, more well-to-do, more... something.  We take that step back, and the next follows more easily, and the next, until we, through our own choices and our own desires, have allowed sin and our own sinful nature to separate us from God.  We hide this separation in dark rooms and darker silence, we drown it in the nearest bottle or dull it with the nearest pill, and yet, even in that haze, the unhappiness and uneasiness of separation from God is present and alarming.  David stepped too far away and it cost him a son.  Jonah spent three nights in the belly of a great fish.   The children of Israel walked for years around the same mountain and missed a trip to the promised land.  This night season is different for each who must endure it, but our time there can be greatly shortened if only we remember that the Light didn't move, we did.  And just as David rose, washed himself, and returned to the House of God, or just as Jonah cried our from the belly of the fish, we must turn back, cry out, and allow the mercy and the grace of God to provide us that redemption and peace which comes only from the Father through the blood of Jesus Christ.  Then, as we continue our journey, we must come to recognize these night seasons, whether they come for correction or instruction, and ultimately realize, just as David did, that even though darkness surrounds us, we serve a God in "whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning" (Jas 1:17).

Psa 16:7-8  I will bless Jehovah, who hath given me counsel; Yea, my heart instructeth me in the night seasons.  (8)  I have set Jehovah always before me: Because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

My Biggest Battle

My biggest battle.  Prior to the last few weeks, I might have listed any number of things had someone asked me what is the biggest battle I have faced.  Addiction (to any number of things) might have topped the list.  Depression might have been there as well: that feeling of despair that seems to sink into me every so often and from which I must continually pull myself.  Lust.  Lying.  I have fought, and in some cases, continue to fight these things, but recently, God, through the use of my pastor, my friends, and the leaves on the trees in my front yard, has made me aware of a deeper issue, one that, time and time again, has taken me away from his work for me.

I suppose it really began on Saturday, two weeks ago, as I was mowing the lawn.  The leaves on our wooded lot have begun to turn, and the colors, this time of year, are startling.  Reds, golds, silvers and greens all seem crown the trees in a palette that dwarfs the imagination.  I was marveling at the change, and the colors that this change brings, when I stooped down to pick up a newly fallen leaf.  It was that shade of red that is only seen in fall, and really was quite beautiful as it fell, but as with everything, I suppose, as I began to look more closely, the color did not seem as bright as it had when it fell, and there were dark spots there that more-than-hinted at the shades of brown decay that would soon come.  I thought at the time that there was a sermon there, some little nugget of wisdom, along the lines of "Don't look too closely" or "If you are searching for a fault, then you can be sure to find one."  As usual, when Papa is trying to tell me something, I'm a little slow on the uptake.  

Though my relationship with Papa is, as it has always been, more a product of his patience than my ability to do as I am told, I could tell (and in all honesty, have been able to tell for quite some time) that things were not quite as they should be.  On the surface, everything was fine and, in some instances, more than fine.  I was in church, if not as frequently as I had been. My prayer life was good.  My job, which I firmly believe to be part of my calling, had never been better.  But, on Saturday night, as I began praying in earnest for the service the next day, wanting and needing an outpouring of his spirit, I heard Papa whisper, "Look closer."   I didn't even have to think.  My heart dropped into my stomach and I knew.  Oh.  The leaf.  And there, in a moment, my biggest battle, one that I have faced countless times since first surrendering to the call to preach His Word, was laid bare.  

There, on a life colored by the Master's hand in the blue of a little girl's eye, the brown in the hair of my loving wife, and the greens and golds of the home he has given me, lay dark spots of hurt and resentment with which I had never truly dealt.  There is that thing in me, in all of us I believe, that wants to be well-liked, and it is that thing which the Devil, time and time again, has used so effectively against me.  Since I was first called into the ministry, there have been those, who, at just the right moment, managed to speak some hurt or criticism in my life that would, ultimately, lead to me sitting like Elijah, sulking, under a juniper tree waiting on that still small voice to tell me to move.  This is certainly not to say that anyone is at fault, other than myself, and I am struggling to come to terms with the reality check that Papa placed before me.  Ecclesiastes 7:21 says, "Also take not heed unto all words that are spoken, lest thou hear thy servant curse thee."  And, as always, this little gem finds its way effectively into more modern phrasing: "What people think about me is none of my business."  Sitting thereon that quiet, prayerful Saturday evening with this thought in mind,  I took a moment to read about the juniper tree and the prophet who ran from the words of another.  Then, when my pastor referenced the same scripture the next morning, I made a decision; I chose a path, a path which I pray that God will give me the strength to walk.  Neither my service to God, nor the church that I feel led to attend, can be based upon the opinions of others.  I must, in this and all things, choose to follow God without any consideration to what people might think or believe about me.  What others think of me is none of my business, and their opinion (good or bad) cannot be allowed to shift me from my determined purpose.  I am, and I know this now for certain, exactly where God wants me to be at this moment in my life and until his voice says move, it is there that I will stay.  For too long I have let the words of false friends, foolish leaders, and church members frustrate me, condemn me, and provide me with an excuse to walk away.  No longer. This, then, is my prayer, from Psalm 16:7-8,  "I will bless Jehovah, who hath given me counsel; Yea, my heart instructeth me in the night seasons.  (8)  I have set Jehovah always before me: Because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved."