Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands. Psalm 100:1
Snuggled under the covers in my bed, I waited to drift off to sleep, but realized something was not quite right. As I listened in the silence, I realized the silence was the problem! Moving quickly from my warm haven to the floor, I felt in the dark for the switch. As the click sounded and the blades began to whir, I crawled gratefully back in my nest. Hearing my husband’s sigh, I grinned as I again settled down for the night. Almost ten years of marriage does not appear to have yet conditioned Dave to sound of the fan that I can’t seem to sleep without!
Noise. White noise, loud noise, quiet hums, whispers, shouts, cries and sighs; not to mention all manufactured sounds, our world is filled with noise. As the alarm clock sounds, I moan that morning is ready here. I groan as I get out of the bed. My joints make creak where sounds did not previously exist. Stepping on the scale either brings frustrated “humph” of annoyance or a “whoop” of delight.
Deep sighs echo in my cubby as I work through a complex project. A whine surfaces if lunch is not as I expected. An angry “ahk” is escapes my lips when my fellow commuters are aggressive on the highway. An irritated moan bubbles up as see the long wait at the checkout line.
A sigh of relief comes the minute I walk in the door and kick off my shoes. A grumble creeps out as I realize that the laundry pile I thought was done suddenly reappears as someone finally realizes the only way the clothes on their floor will get washed is if they actually make into the laundry room.
Ezra 3:13 No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise.
I make a lot of noise during the day and in review, most of it is not joyful. Yes, I will share a gasp of delight, an appreciative “ahh” at something sweet or endearing, but for the most part, my noise is negative. God is willing to listen to all my concerns, frustration (Psalm 62:8 & Lamentations 2:19), but the Psalms calls us to make a “joyful noise:
• Psalm 66:1 Make a joyful noise unto God, all the earth
• Psalm 81:1 Sing aloud unto God our strength: Make a joyful noise unto the God of Jacob.
• Psalm 95:1 Oh come, let us sing unto Jehovah; Let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.
• Psalm 95:2 Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving; Let us make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.
• Psalm 98:4 Make a joyful noise unto Jehovah, all the earth: Break forth and sing for joy, yea, sing praises.
• Psalm 98:6 With trumpets and sound of cornet Make a joyful noise before the King, Jehovah.
• Psalm 100:1 Make a joyful noise unto Jehovah, all ye lands.
Beloved, we are all really experienced at cheering for our children, our favorite sports teams, and contests on game or reality shows, sighing in pleasure over a decadent desert or the end of a good movie, but what about the noises we send up to God? Have you make a whoop of joy over His daily blessings, send up a “WOOHOO” at the gift of grace, gasped at a beautiful sunset or sighed over the beauty of His Word? Have you raised a joyful noise to Him today?
Careful Considerations: What kind of noise do you make? Does it add to the din of the world’s constant clamor….or are your sounds and words a joyful noise to the Lord?
Heavenly Father, Who is like You among the gods, O LORD? Who is like You, majestic in holiness, awesome in praises, working wonders? (Exodus 15:11) The LORD is my strength and song, and He has become my salvation; This is my God, and I will praise Him; my father's God, and I will extol Him (Exodus 15:2) For great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised; He also is to be feared above all gods (1 Chron 16:25). Precious Father, I pray that we make noises of contentment, joy, assurance, commitment and praise to You today and always. As You are in our praises (Psalm 22:1-3) may Your praises be always on our lips. In the name of Jesus, our Savior, Amen.
Hugs and Prayers,
Gwenda
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Egg Scale
You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting. Daniel 5:26
As avid antiquers, my in-laws, Les and Peggy regularly comb area garage and estate sale for treasures. Their home is filled with interesting trinkets worthy of the Smithsonian American History Museum in Washington, DC. On any given visit to their home, it is not unusual to hear, “Want to see what we found?”
The red metal gadget passed into my hands this evening was definitely not something I’d seen before. Looking closely, it appeared to be a weighing machine, though instead of numbers designating ounces/pounds, the words “small, medium, large, extra large” appeared on its side and the shallow cupped pan on the top would have held very little. Noticing my perplexed look, Les exclaimed, “It an egg scale!” Knowing that Peggy’s organic egg business was booming, the aged scale appeared to be a smart buy.
God takes measuring very seriously:
*The LORD detests dishonest scales, but accurate weights find favor with him.Proverbs 11:1
*Honest scales and balances belong to the LORD; all the weights in the bag are of his making.Proverbs 16:11
*The LORD detests differing weights, and dishonest scales do not please him.Proverbs 20:23
As the father of lies (John 8:44), the devil is constantly trying to tip the scale in multiple ways by asking us to use worldly weights to judge others, ourselves and God. Some of his lies are:
*You are not as precious to God as you think
*God is not as powerful as you believe
*Your sins is not that bad as others
Beloved, you can’t accurately measure an egg on a doctor’s scale. You can’t measure jewelry with fish scales. You can’t use postal scales to measure your BMI or truck scales to check your blood pressure. No man is able to accurately measure the heart of another. That is a job for God only: But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16: 7 Do you weigh yourself, God or others and find your judgment clouded by the world's scales? When you look at yourself, others or God, remember the truest measure is displayed in His Word and through Christ’s example.... and God has scales which are 100% accurate.
Careful Considerations: Are you using the wrong kind of scales to measure your esteem, relationships and walk with God? Do you gauge wrongdoing in terms of the small, medium, large and extra large like the egg scale?
Heavenly Father You caution us to judge nothing before the appointed time; but to wait till the Lord comes. You will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God. (I Cor 4:5.) Father God, I know that you will weigh me in honest scales (Job 31:6)and I am so thankful that You alone are my judge, not another and not even myself. Lord, I trust Your scales and know that You judge based on Your love and Christ’s sacrifice. Praise God for this truth! In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Love, Hugs and Prayers,
Gwenda
As avid antiquers, my in-laws, Les and Peggy regularly comb area garage and estate sale for treasures. Their home is filled with interesting trinkets worthy of the Smithsonian American History Museum in Washington, DC. On any given visit to their home, it is not unusual to hear, “Want to see what we found?”
The red metal gadget passed into my hands this evening was definitely not something I’d seen before. Looking closely, it appeared to be a weighing machine, though instead of numbers designating ounces/pounds, the words “small, medium, large, extra large” appeared on its side and the shallow cupped pan on the top would have held very little. Noticing my perplexed look, Les exclaimed, “It an egg scale!” Knowing that Peggy’s organic egg business was booming, the aged scale appeared to be a smart buy.
God takes measuring very seriously:
*The LORD detests dishonest scales, but accurate weights find favor with him.Proverbs 11:1
*Honest scales and balances belong to the LORD; all the weights in the bag are of his making.Proverbs 16:11
*The LORD detests differing weights, and dishonest scales do not please him.Proverbs 20:23
As the father of lies (John 8:44), the devil is constantly trying to tip the scale in multiple ways by asking us to use worldly weights to judge others, ourselves and God. Some of his lies are:
*You are not as precious to God as you think
*God is not as powerful as you believe
*Your sins is not that bad as others
Beloved, you can’t accurately measure an egg on a doctor’s scale. You can’t measure jewelry with fish scales. You can’t use postal scales to measure your BMI or truck scales to check your blood pressure. No man is able to accurately measure the heart of another. That is a job for God only: But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16: 7 Do you weigh yourself, God or others and find your judgment clouded by the world's scales? When you look at yourself, others or God, remember the truest measure is displayed in His Word and through Christ’s example.... and God has scales which are 100% accurate.
Careful Considerations: Are you using the wrong kind of scales to measure your esteem, relationships and walk with God? Do you gauge wrongdoing in terms of the small, medium, large and extra large like the egg scale?
Heavenly Father You caution us to judge nothing before the appointed time; but to wait till the Lord comes. You will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God. (I Cor 4:5.) Father God, I know that you will weigh me in honest scales (Job 31:6)and I am so thankful that You alone are my judge, not another and not even myself. Lord, I trust Your scales and know that You judge based on Your love and Christ’s sacrifice. Praise God for this truth! In the name of Jesus, Amen.
Love, Hugs and Prayers,
Gwenda
Monday, January 30, 2012
That Clinging Thing (04/01/09 - The "First Umbrella)
April 1, 2009
“My whole being follows hard after you and clings closely to you; your right hand holds me up.” Psalm 63:8
I’ve always had a love for old ivy covered houses. The clinging greenery reminds me of the historical romance novels that I grew up enjoying. Wistful, cozy, inviting, comfortable…lived in. So when I moved into our home in an older section of Carmichael, I was delighted with the ivy that draped over the side fence and covered the majority of our front yard. Well, there’s something I won’t have to mow, I thought happily.
However, the ivy in the back yard seemed a bit well, menacing. It seemed to encroach on my space! Yes, this persistent plant had also covered the most of the south and west fence and, in some places, had grown out into the lawn about 12 feet from the fence burrowing under the grass. In the last year, I’ve come to find out that ivy is considered one of the most insidious, pervasive plants in the United States.
Our ivy had taken over a several planting beds and the iris, daffodils, grape vines, mandarin and pomegranate trees were drowning under the onslaught. Then there was the issue of the “things” hidden in the ivy. A neighbor mentioned rats and moles (YIKES!) and my own personal experience has turned up children’s toys, golf balls, stepping stones, soda and beer bottles and cans, large landscape stones, not to mention mold, dust, other weeds, etc. The ivy just seems to be a black hole for trash……while looking ever green and inviting from the surface.
When my step-son, Drew expressed concern over the ivy that was creeping up the side of the house, I tended to agree. He found it scary and after the neighbor’s comments regarding rats and moles, I was more than anxious to clear out their possible cover. As I began ripping the ivy from the fences, the heavens seemed to open and my neighbors on either side sang my praises because the plants had also started creepy crawling over and under to find homes in their yards.
The most frustrating discovery in my endeavor to remove the ivy was the way that, every few inches, the ivy had attempted to root into either the fence, the tree or the ground looking, I’m sure, for both sustenance and security. It was determined to remain where it was. The process of pulling the ivy out is exhausting, frustrating and too often seemingly futile. Backaches, cramping hands, asthma attacks and sinus headaches were common place side effects of my efforts. In my frustration, Dave and I have discussed rotor-tillers, ground scrapers, poisons and dynamite. The ivy just doesn’t want to go away! My battle was an ongoing one since the ivy I’d thought I’d rid myself of last year seems to have sprouted little fledging vines to begin another onslaught into space something I thought was clear.
My experiences with ivy caused me to look at other aspects of my life. The ivy in my life has started innocently enough and I’m reminded of the phrases: “The trouble with trouble is it starts out as fun”, “Just once won’t hurt”, “It’s not that bad” and “Everyone’s doing it”
The television ivy that I’ve allowed it into my home has clogged my brain with must haves….food, clothing, new toys, trips and entertainment. The television shows encourage children to talk back to parents with disregard and lies, along with featuring feature wives that consider their husbands inferior and only to be tolerated. These series never reflect any Christian values that I can see and always leave me with frustration of wanting more. The same holds true for what I’ve read in the past, listened to and surfed. Ahhh, the internet—amazing and entertaining—yet subtly creeping into our lives with an alarming draw towards information, but what kind of information? The internet is definitely place to lose valuables—a sense of time, sense of reality, a sense of morality and contentment. Worse still is the ivy of my thoughts:
• One bite won’t hurt; it’s just a few more dollars;
• It’s just a couple of minutes;
• It’s only a post-it, pen, paper pad;
• He/she is doing it
• I’ll stop before/when/or if.
Yes, the lies I’ve told myself are the ivy of my mind creeping in until God’s purpose for me is completely lost under the green, lush covering of doubts, fears, half-truths, bad decisions, anger, resentment and selfishness and addiction.
I started pulling ivy with vengeance in October 2008. I began with a full fledge three week assault of God’s Word, prayer and encouraging friends, not realizing that the process would be just like trying to keep the ivy in my yard at bay. It would take diligence, perseverance, focus and a daily investment of prayer, using the Word/sword and confession. The confession part is the toughest, but also the most rewarding. That’s been the life changing result of Celebrate Recovery in my life. Confession to me is ripping the roots out, clearing the garden of my mind for God’s planting of the gifts/flowers of the spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I can see the flowers of roses (love), bird of paradise (joy) olive trees (peace) asters (patience), elderflower (kindness) baby’s breath (goodness/purity) violets (faithfulness) geranium (gentility) and gladiolus (strength of character).
I clearly see the ivy for what it is now…..sin that keeps trying to overrun the garden of God’s relationship with me. The ivy/sin will not win because God has already declared the victory; but that will not stop the sin/ivy from continuing it’s efforts to slow, choke and smother me….all under the pretense of “taking care of me” “just one bite won’t hurt” and “you deserve it”. I have finally allowed the Master Gardener to enter into the garden of my heart, mind and soul—to come along side me and his strength and ways are so much better than my feeble efforts. Working together, our garden will be a place of beauty, rest and peace….complete with Jesus and I having own hammock swing.
“My whole being follows hard after you and clings closely to you; your right hand holds me up.” Psalm 63:8
I’ve always had a love for old ivy covered houses. The clinging greenery reminds me of the historical romance novels that I grew up enjoying. Wistful, cozy, inviting, comfortable…lived in. So when I moved into our home in an older section of Carmichael, I was delighted with the ivy that draped over the side fence and covered the majority of our front yard. Well, there’s something I won’t have to mow, I thought happily.
However, the ivy in the back yard seemed a bit well, menacing. It seemed to encroach on my space! Yes, this persistent plant had also covered the most of the south and west fence and, in some places, had grown out into the lawn about 12 feet from the fence burrowing under the grass. In the last year, I’ve come to find out that ivy is considered one of the most insidious, pervasive plants in the United States.
Our ivy had taken over a several planting beds and the iris, daffodils, grape vines, mandarin and pomegranate trees were drowning under the onslaught. Then there was the issue of the “things” hidden in the ivy. A neighbor mentioned rats and moles (YIKES!) and my own personal experience has turned up children’s toys, golf balls, stepping stones, soda and beer bottles and cans, large landscape stones, not to mention mold, dust, other weeds, etc. The ivy just seems to be a black hole for trash……while looking ever green and inviting from the surface.
When my step-son, Drew expressed concern over the ivy that was creeping up the side of the house, I tended to agree. He found it scary and after the neighbor’s comments regarding rats and moles, I was more than anxious to clear out their possible cover. As I began ripping the ivy from the fences, the heavens seemed to open and my neighbors on either side sang my praises because the plants had also started creepy crawling over and under to find homes in their yards.
The most frustrating discovery in my endeavor to remove the ivy was the way that, every few inches, the ivy had attempted to root into either the fence, the tree or the ground looking, I’m sure, for both sustenance and security. It was determined to remain where it was. The process of pulling the ivy out is exhausting, frustrating and too often seemingly futile. Backaches, cramping hands, asthma attacks and sinus headaches were common place side effects of my efforts. In my frustration, Dave and I have discussed rotor-tillers, ground scrapers, poisons and dynamite. The ivy just doesn’t want to go away! My battle was an ongoing one since the ivy I’d thought I’d rid myself of last year seems to have sprouted little fledging vines to begin another onslaught into space something I thought was clear.
My experiences with ivy caused me to look at other aspects of my life. The ivy in my life has started innocently enough and I’m reminded of the phrases: “The trouble with trouble is it starts out as fun”, “Just once won’t hurt”, “It’s not that bad” and “Everyone’s doing it”
The television ivy that I’ve allowed it into my home has clogged my brain with must haves….food, clothing, new toys, trips and entertainment. The television shows encourage children to talk back to parents with disregard and lies, along with featuring feature wives that consider their husbands inferior and only to be tolerated. These series never reflect any Christian values that I can see and always leave me with frustration of wanting more. The same holds true for what I’ve read in the past, listened to and surfed. Ahhh, the internet—amazing and entertaining—yet subtly creeping into our lives with an alarming draw towards information, but what kind of information? The internet is definitely place to lose valuables—a sense of time, sense of reality, a sense of morality and contentment. Worse still is the ivy of my thoughts:
• One bite won’t hurt; it’s just a few more dollars;
• It’s just a couple of minutes;
• It’s only a post-it, pen, paper pad;
• He/she is doing it
• I’ll stop before/when/or if.
Yes, the lies I’ve told myself are the ivy of my mind creeping in until God’s purpose for me is completely lost under the green, lush covering of doubts, fears, half-truths, bad decisions, anger, resentment and selfishness and addiction.
I started pulling ivy with vengeance in October 2008. I began with a full fledge three week assault of God’s Word, prayer and encouraging friends, not realizing that the process would be just like trying to keep the ivy in my yard at bay. It would take diligence, perseverance, focus and a daily investment of prayer, using the Word/sword and confession. The confession part is the toughest, but also the most rewarding. That’s been the life changing result of Celebrate Recovery in my life. Confession to me is ripping the roots out, clearing the garden of my mind for God’s planting of the gifts/flowers of the spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. I can see the flowers of roses (love), bird of paradise (joy) olive trees (peace) asters (patience), elderflower (kindness) baby’s breath (goodness/purity) violets (faithfulness) geranium (gentility) and gladiolus (strength of character).
I clearly see the ivy for what it is now…..sin that keeps trying to overrun the garden of God’s relationship with me. The ivy/sin will not win because God has already declared the victory; but that will not stop the sin/ivy from continuing it’s efforts to slow, choke and smother me….all under the pretense of “taking care of me” “just one bite won’t hurt” and “you deserve it”. I have finally allowed the Master Gardener to enter into the garden of my heart, mind and soul—to come along side me and his strength and ways are so much better than my feeble efforts. Working together, our garden will be a place of beauty, rest and peace….complete with Jesus and I having own hammock swing.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
The Journey Home
For it is commendable if someone bears up under the pain of unjust suffering because they are conscious of God. 20 But how is it to your credit if you receive a beating for doing wrong and endure it? But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. 1 Peter 2:18-20
One of these days, I’m going to forget about the pain. Some day in the future, I may even laugh about it….but not today….definitely not today.
On Saturday morning, with much trepidation, I utilized my “free” personal training session at our local gym. My trainer was a likeable young man in his early 20’s who behaved as if my appointment with him was something akin to a one-on-one with Lady Gaga—I felt so special! Trainer said we would have two sessions today—the first an assessment of my current physical health with the second being a training session to meet the wish list of healthy goals indicated on my intake form.
Imbued by Trainer’s enthusiasm, I followed him to a treadmill. “Now, Gwen” he chirped, “we are going to do a 12 minute test. I want you to warm up and after two minutes, I’m going to time you to see how fast and how far you can go.” Starting the treadmill at 2 miles per hour, my sleepy muscles began to wake up. After two minutes, Trainer proclaimed, “I’m going to time you now” and yanked my speed to 2.7 MPH. Whoa, I thought, grabbing onto the handrails, “Okay, I can do this!” I focused on my breathing and walking, confident those 12 minutes were going to fly by. I even became so self-assured that I pushed the MPH to 3.0……until the sides of my calves began to scream in pain.
Trainer checked on me. “How are you doing?” “Not bad, except for the pain in my calves.” I moaned. “Good job!” he responded cheerfully! “Yeah, right!” I thought, as he bounced away. The next 10 minutes were truly miserable, but my adventure was just starting!
In the workout room, Trainer first request I do a regular push-up and then (also on the floor) to stretch to touch my toes. Stretching into the oblivion between my knees and ankles, I was left wishing I could fold my tummy fat out of the way! Back in his cubby, I was advised that my walking was in the poor range, my strength was in the poor range and my flexibility was fair. Ah, I thought, there was the silver-lining I was looking for! Trainer escorted me back to the workout room and stacked approximately 15 blocks together directing me to do squats over the blocks (to support me if I fell, I suppose). Watching this achievement, Trainer took first three, and then another two blocks from my perch. I obediently performed my required 10 squats.
On to the push-ups! Trainer allows me to do girl pushups from the knees. Ten sorry excuses for a push-up later, the real horror starts. Trainer asks me to do lunges. Oh, my word! Friends, I’m now fully convinced that should I not make it to heaven, hell consists of hours upon hours of lunges. But our fun did not stop there! Lunges were followed by arm lifts and chest presses; and the rotation of the five exercises was repeated three more times. By the second rotation, I was sweating like a chain-gang worker in the July sun. By the end of the third rotation, my contorted face would have scared off small children and probably even cowered my own dogs into the corner in abject terror!
Trainer kept asking if I was okay; I can’t imagine why! I often walk about with my face beet-red and gasping like a marathon runner. At the end of the four rotations, Trainer had me lie down on a mat on the floor. “Praise Jesus, we are done!” I thought. Trainer then instructed me to do abdominal curls…..and after those abdominal curls a dead-leg lift with both legs off the floor. At the end of our session, I tell trainer that I will never be as unhealthy/unfit as I am today. There is nowhere to go but up, right? Right?
As I hobbled out of the gym, my muscles spazzing in all directions, I felt a sense of accomplishment, but the pain was already setting in. Commenting on this, my wise husband warned, “It’s going to be worse in the morning.” Really? Really! Thank you for that bright spot in my day! He was not kidding. Sunday morning, I waddled into worship service gratefully aided and abetted by an 800 milligram Motrin (thank you, Lord for drugs!), but as the day wore on, the Motrin was no match for my aching muscles. When you reach the point that you want to cry as you realize how close to the ground your toilet is, sister, you’ve got it bad! Hubby’s comment that tomorrow will be the worst—and then it gets better—gave me no comfort at all.
The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in agony and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done. Revelation 16:10-12
Beloved, I’m repenting and repenting hard from past actions today. I’m repenting of bites eaten in stress, anger, frustration, boredom or just because I wanted to. I’m repenting of evenings spent on the couch when I could have been walking my dogs. I’m repenting of the lunch hour that could have sneaked in 15 to 30 minutes of SOMETHING besides setting on my behind like I do the other eight hours of my work day, but all this repenting is not going to make the journey back to good health easier.
We talk much about the joy displayed when the father sees his prodigal son from afar. (Luke 15) We witness the love shown, the ring and sandals presented and the feast prepared, but we don’t talk about the son’s journey back…..and that journey back was no picnic. The journey was long, slow and painful. Remember, he had spent all his money (Luke 15:14); there was a severe famine in the country (v.14) and no one gave him anything to eat (v.15) and he was barefoot. (v.22)
No money also meant no transportation (Are you going to give a ride to a hitchhiker who smells like a pigsty?) and no way to pay for over-night lodging on your way. There was nothing to recommend him; if he was known, it was as the rebellious, disrespectful, greedy son of a good man which according to Hebrew law made him a candidate for stoning (Deut. 21:18-21 ) There was nothing to make the way back any easier, apart from the hopeful thought of a forgiving father waiting at the end of the journey.
Sweet friends, the journey back is usually hard. I daresay the prodigal’s days were fraught with hunger, fatigue and doubts. His nights in the open were filled with fear, for who was to know if something even more dire overcame him? Still he pressed on and at the end of his journey, the welcome, the forgiveness and the love was offered freely knowing that his heart had changed…..just like God’s forgiveness is given to us when our hearts change.
When this journey is over, I expect to weigh substantially less than I do now. When this journey is over, I expect to easily walk several miles with ease. When this journey is over, I pray to have established eating and lifestyle changes that constantly remind me what turning my back on God’s protection and grace in favor or my own wants looks and feels like—a physical fullness resulting in a spiritual famine. It’s going to be a long journey back, but I know that unlike the prodigal, the minute I turned in obedience and repentance, my Father was right there cheering me on.
Careful Considerations: What does the road back look like to you? Discuss. Isn’t the welcome home from your Father worth the arduous trip?
Heavenly Father, Your Word assures me that You are filled with compassion and love for Your children; that You work all things for good for those who love You and that You are waiting to welcome Your repentant children home. Thank you, Lord for mercy, patience and Your amazing ability to not only to forgive, but to forget our transgressions. Please walk closely to and strengthen those who was journeying back to a place of spiritual and physical health and home to You. In Jesus name, Amen.
Love, Hugs and Prayers,
Gwenda
Luke 15:14-19After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
One of these days, I’m going to forget about the pain. Some day in the future, I may even laugh about it….but not today….definitely not today.
On Saturday morning, with much trepidation, I utilized my “free” personal training session at our local gym. My trainer was a likeable young man in his early 20’s who behaved as if my appointment with him was something akin to a one-on-one with Lady Gaga—I felt so special! Trainer said we would have two sessions today—the first an assessment of my current physical health with the second being a training session to meet the wish list of healthy goals indicated on my intake form.
Imbued by Trainer’s enthusiasm, I followed him to a treadmill. “Now, Gwen” he chirped, “we are going to do a 12 minute test. I want you to warm up and after two minutes, I’m going to time you to see how fast and how far you can go.” Starting the treadmill at 2 miles per hour, my sleepy muscles began to wake up. After two minutes, Trainer proclaimed, “I’m going to time you now” and yanked my speed to 2.7 MPH. Whoa, I thought, grabbing onto the handrails, “Okay, I can do this!” I focused on my breathing and walking, confident those 12 minutes were going to fly by. I even became so self-assured that I pushed the MPH to 3.0……until the sides of my calves began to scream in pain.
Trainer checked on me. “How are you doing?” “Not bad, except for the pain in my calves.” I moaned. “Good job!” he responded cheerfully! “Yeah, right!” I thought, as he bounced away. The next 10 minutes were truly miserable, but my adventure was just starting!
In the workout room, Trainer first request I do a regular push-up and then (also on the floor) to stretch to touch my toes. Stretching into the oblivion between my knees and ankles, I was left wishing I could fold my tummy fat out of the way! Back in his cubby, I was advised that my walking was in the poor range, my strength was in the poor range and my flexibility was fair. Ah, I thought, there was the silver-lining I was looking for! Trainer escorted me back to the workout room and stacked approximately 15 blocks together directing me to do squats over the blocks (to support me if I fell, I suppose). Watching this achievement, Trainer took first three, and then another two blocks from my perch. I obediently performed my required 10 squats.
On to the push-ups! Trainer allows me to do girl pushups from the knees. Ten sorry excuses for a push-up later, the real horror starts. Trainer asks me to do lunges. Oh, my word! Friends, I’m now fully convinced that should I not make it to heaven, hell consists of hours upon hours of lunges. But our fun did not stop there! Lunges were followed by arm lifts and chest presses; and the rotation of the five exercises was repeated three more times. By the second rotation, I was sweating like a chain-gang worker in the July sun. By the end of the third rotation, my contorted face would have scared off small children and probably even cowered my own dogs into the corner in abject terror!
Trainer kept asking if I was okay; I can’t imagine why! I often walk about with my face beet-red and gasping like a marathon runner. At the end of the four rotations, Trainer had me lie down on a mat on the floor. “Praise Jesus, we are done!” I thought. Trainer then instructed me to do abdominal curls…..and after those abdominal curls a dead-leg lift with both legs off the floor. At the end of our session, I tell trainer that I will never be as unhealthy/unfit as I am today. There is nowhere to go but up, right? Right?
As I hobbled out of the gym, my muscles spazzing in all directions, I felt a sense of accomplishment, but the pain was already setting in. Commenting on this, my wise husband warned, “It’s going to be worse in the morning.” Really? Really! Thank you for that bright spot in my day! He was not kidding. Sunday morning, I waddled into worship service gratefully aided and abetted by an 800 milligram Motrin (thank you, Lord for drugs!), but as the day wore on, the Motrin was no match for my aching muscles. When you reach the point that you want to cry as you realize how close to the ground your toilet is, sister, you’ve got it bad! Hubby’s comment that tomorrow will be the worst—and then it gets better—gave me no comfort at all.
The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in agony and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done. Revelation 16:10-12
Beloved, I’m repenting and repenting hard from past actions today. I’m repenting of bites eaten in stress, anger, frustration, boredom or just because I wanted to. I’m repenting of evenings spent on the couch when I could have been walking my dogs. I’m repenting of the lunch hour that could have sneaked in 15 to 30 minutes of SOMETHING besides setting on my behind like I do the other eight hours of my work day, but all this repenting is not going to make the journey back to good health easier.
We talk much about the joy displayed when the father sees his prodigal son from afar. (Luke 15) We witness the love shown, the ring and sandals presented and the feast prepared, but we don’t talk about the son’s journey back…..and that journey back was no picnic. The journey was long, slow and painful. Remember, he had spent all his money (Luke 15:14); there was a severe famine in the country (v.14) and no one gave him anything to eat (v.15) and he was barefoot. (v.22)
No money also meant no transportation (Are you going to give a ride to a hitchhiker who smells like a pigsty?) and no way to pay for over-night lodging on your way. There was nothing to recommend him; if he was known, it was as the rebellious, disrespectful, greedy son of a good man which according to Hebrew law made him a candidate for stoning (Deut. 21:18-21 ) There was nothing to make the way back any easier, apart from the hopeful thought of a forgiving father waiting at the end of the journey.
Sweet friends, the journey back is usually hard. I daresay the prodigal’s days were fraught with hunger, fatigue and doubts. His nights in the open were filled with fear, for who was to know if something even more dire overcame him? Still he pressed on and at the end of his journey, the welcome, the forgiveness and the love was offered freely knowing that his heart had changed…..just like God’s forgiveness is given to us when our hearts change.
When this journey is over, I expect to weigh substantially less than I do now. When this journey is over, I expect to easily walk several miles with ease. When this journey is over, I pray to have established eating and lifestyle changes that constantly remind me what turning my back on God’s protection and grace in favor or my own wants looks and feels like—a physical fullness resulting in a spiritual famine. It’s going to be a long journey back, but I know that unlike the prodigal, the minute I turned in obedience and repentance, my Father was right there cheering me on.
Careful Considerations: What does the road back look like to you? Discuss. Isn’t the welcome home from your Father worth the arduous trip?
Heavenly Father, Your Word assures me that You are filled with compassion and love for Your children; that You work all things for good for those who love You and that You are waiting to welcome Your repentant children home. Thank you, Lord for mercy, patience and Your amazing ability to not only to forgive, but to forget our transgressions. Please walk closely to and strengthen those who was journeying back to a place of spiritual and physical health and home to You. In Jesus name, Amen.
Love, Hugs and Prayers,
Gwenda
Luke 15:14-19After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)