Genesis vs Nemesis

Ever find yourself searching the skies for an IM from heaven? Maybe a brief personal note from the Master of the Universe scribbled in the orange corner of the sunset sky? 

I've been thinking a lot lately about discerning God's will.

Like ... how do we do it? How do we know which decision is the right one when there are so many that assault us daily? How can we be sure we're on the path He prepared for us, especially when we encounter roadblocks and potholes? Are they there to detour us or for us to climb over?

In my recent study of Genesis, I noticed that Abraham faced some of the same challenges I do in trying to discern and follow God's will. But he seemed to have a better handle on it than I do.

The first amazing thing is that when God said go, Abe went (Gen 12:1). He picked up his family, tents and belongings that had been his home for his entire life and without argument or what we would call human reasoning, just up and took off. Where, he didn't even know at first. He just marched on in the direction that God's supernatural finger pointed until He said "Stop!" (Gen 15:7)

Once he finally arrived where he didn't know he was headed, God gave an entire country (Canaan) to Abraham at age 75 (Abe's age, not God's), but he still had to work for it. It didn't come gift wrapped with a big red bow. It wasn't a huge empty plot of beautiful, endless pastureland and bubbling streams just waiting on him to move in. There were people living there - big people with big swords and big egos who didn't want to leave.

Abraham not only had to conquer all his enemies, but he had to plant crops and dig well to sustain his flocks. Work, work and more work. 

And there were problems. Major problems.

Shortly after he arrived in this promised land, a famine struck, forcing Abe to leave his barely-broken-in-homestead and flee to the country next door (Egypt) just to be able to keep his family alive. Then after he got kicked out of Egypt, he became a nomad in the desert until finally, many years later, he was able to return to once again stake his claim in the land that God gave him.

I don't know about you, but if I was Abe, after all that trouble, I might have wondered if I'd misheard the Almighty. If God had really given me this property, why in the world was I having such difficulty living on it? Shouldn't following God's will be easier?

And there's the rub, isn't it. Shouldn't following God's will be easier?

I don't think Mother Teresa would have answered yes. Or Martin Luther King. Or Corrie Ten Boom, or a thousand other godly men and women pushing their own personal boulders out of the road God set before them. The obstacles were not their nemesis. They were there by design.

God doesn't promise us red bows and smooth sailing in following His will. I wish He did. But His word makes it pretty clear that it's actually the opposite.

Abraham hung in there despite all the thousands of time he must have wanted to turn his donkeys around and head back to the comfort of his roots. And so must I. Even when I can't see the next turn in the road because of the thick fog. Or even when the pavement disappears into a sink hole.

Because that's what this faith journey is all about.


 

What's your marriage creed?

"Do you know what my husband said to me yesterday? He said I needed to decide whether I wanted to be married or single."

I almost choked on the water I was chugging down as we took a break between tennis games. Seven tennis buds and I were fighting the blistering heat to squeeze in three sets, and one of the players suddenly decided to spill.

Alana wasn't someone I was particularly close to, but having been a tennis acquaintance for over a year, I was aware of her fiercely independent nature. I recalled a few weeks prior when she appeared for her regular tennis session rather than attending her only child's 5th grade graduation ceremony.

"I don't see why we have to make a big deal about something that should be normal," Alana had said. "Besides, my son won't even miss me - his father and grandparents are there."

And now it appeared as though her marriage was in danger, but Alana didn't seem at all distressed. The rest of us simply stared at her, stunned, as we silently placed ourselves on the wifely end of that ultimatum she'd been given and began to feel the devastation of loss.

A feeling that Alana apparently didn't share. 

"I won't tolerate anyone telling me what to do. If he wants a divorce, he can have it. I'll just get a boyfriend. Or maybe two." Alana wiped her pretty face with a towel. Slim and athletic, she looked ten years younger her 43 years. No, she wouldn't have any trouble getting a boyfriend. Or two.

"We've been married 13 years and I've always had a back-up plan. Separate finances, my own car. I kept my house in my name when he moved in ... just in case."

And then, while we were still absorbing this info, she hit us with the biggest zinger of all.

"I know how men are. You have to treat them like crud. Then when you're nice to them, they wag their tails like happy little puppies."

I felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head.  

"But don't you care about your son?" asked one of the other tennis players. "What about him?"

"He'll be fine," Alana assured us - and herself. "We'll just split him right down the middle." With this Solomon-esque statement (although I'm pretty sure she had never read that biblical account), Alana made a cutting motion with her hand right down the center of her body.

I must say Alana's callous attitude about her family shocked me. Especially her philosophy of marriage. I know she's not a Christian, but what kind of relationship creed is that? You treat men like pond scum and then when you're finally civil to them, they're thrilled by the wonderful surprise. What???

Contrast that self-centered, "it's all about me" attitude with what I consider the Christ-followers' marital creed, Colossians 3:12 -13 (NIV): Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.


Sure, like Alana, we all get annoyed with our spouses at some time during our marriages (we just hope it only lasts hours instead of days or weeks!). What would we do without compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and especially patience when the going gets rough? Those spiritual qualities that can only come from the Lord when we're scraping the bottom of the barrel?

As astounding as Alana's confession was, it certainly made me think about my own marriage and renew allegiance to the creed I choose to live by.

How about you? What's your creed?

I'm Getting Engaged

I've been thinking a lot about life lately. Not exactly the "Why am I here?" or "What's it all about, Alfie?" kind of soul-dredging thoughts.

More like the "How can I fully engage in living while I'm passing through this life?"  kind of practical fare that sneaks into my brain betwixt rising at 6 am, fixing the same breakfast I've had every day for the last decade, doing my job, tending to my chores, walking my dog, waving to my husband as we pass going in opposite directions, and making sure everyone's fed at night.

My tendency to float through my days aloof and disengaged is what bothers me. Why don't I feel more? Why do I so often just go through the motions?

I suppose the arrival of my first grandson is the spark behind this flame, and that's likely something everyone goes though when they hold a brand new life in their arms. A fresh body and spirit just embarking on the fantastic journey that is this life. So pure and unscathed. So real. So into every picture on the wall I've passed a thousand times unnoticed. So mesmerized with the magic of a tree branch. So red-faced as he screeches his little punkin head off.

Not yet schooled that the best way to avoid feeling pain is to turn the spigot off.

I hope and pray that he doesn't make it to age 60 and stare in the mirror one day thinking, "Where did the time go? What did I do with all those decades that were a gift from above?" 

The stages of life are simple, really:
Infancy
Childhood
Teenage
Young Adulthood
Middle Adulthood
Advanced Adulthood

There seems to be no getting around the fact that I'm lurking in the cracks between the last two. At least externally. Internally, I'm smack dab in the middle somewhere and sometimes inch closer to the top.

I guess that's why I write humor books. The irony of Dorian Gray isn't lost on me. The prune is still plum-y beneath the wrinkles. It's when the wrinkles permeate the core that the soul begins to shrivel.

Okay, enough deep thinking for me. That's more than my quota.

But I will set a goal: My goal is to be fully present in mind, spirit and senses for the rest of this day. Like a baby does. I will see, touch, smell, hear, feel and enjoy each activity I undertake. Like it's the first time. Yep, that's what I'll do.

Now I'm off to explore my world through the eyes of Baby Blaine. Oh, look. The fresh chocolate smear on my white capris are evidence that I've got a good start putting everything not nailed down in my mouth.

Sweet Wine vs. Sour Grapes

It starts out with wine and roses, a luscious wedding cake, gorgeous beaded dress and the promise of endless joy-filled tomorrows.

But then something mysterious happens. Somewhere along the winding pathway of unity during the next few years, erosion creates a few potholes, roadblocks, and maybe even a detour or two.

The disillusioned bride and groom are left standing on the side of the road asking, "What happened?"

In all honesty, it happened to me. And it'll happen to you, too.

But we don't have to abandon our wrecked cars and hitchhike. Nope. We can change the flat tires, fill 'er up with brand new gasoline and climb back in to continue our life-long journey to happily ever after. How? Read on ...

I've been reading through 1 and 2 Samuel in different translations (you should try it - adds fresh perspective to passages you've read a thousand times) and found myself wondering what happened to tarnish Michel's love for David. Michel had been secretly in love with David, her father the king's political rival (1 Samuel 18: 20) and was used as a pawn by dear old dad to coerce David into avenging the king's enemies. Saul was hoping David would be killed in battle, but after David slew a hundred Philistines to win Michel's hand, Saul was forced to give Michel to David in marriage. (Saul had already promised his older daughter to David and reneged - 1 Sam 18:19). 

At first, Michel loved David passionately - enough to deceive her father (whose nasty temper could have easily resulted in her own death) and help David in a daring midnight escape (1 Sam 19: 11-17).

But then later, in 2 Sam 6:16-21, we see that Michel's love had turned into contempt for her husband. She criticized him openly and ridiculed him for his celebratory behavior before the Lord. The Bible doesn't say specifically, but my guess is that their relationship took a sharp downward spiral at that point.


What went wrong? What made Michel's mighty, life-on-the-line, heart-bursting affection morph into disdain and contempt?

What soured the grapes of her marriage?

A little research reveals some very telling events that probably contributed heavily. During the years after Michel risked everything to help with David's daring escape from Saul, her jerk of a father turned around and married her off to another man in David's absence. David, too, took at least two other wives while he was constantly running and hiding from Saul.

Time passed. Lots happened before David finally was crowned king of Israel and Michel was able to return to his household. Barren (a source of shame in that culture) while David's other wives spit out babies like watermelon seeds, Michel became bitter and haughty in spirit. She and David had little quality time together and she allowed her critical tongue to fan the flames of discontent. Michel was unable to accept her circumstances and allowed ungratefulness to control her thinking processes, attitudes, and behavior.

I know she's usually skipped over in Bible studies and generally overlooked as a woman of far-reaching consequence in the Bible, but I really feel for Michel. I identify with her in a lot of ways. I think God included her story because there are important things we can learn from her. She didn't ask for all the lousy things that happened to her, but she did have control over her future by the way she responded to the circumstances in which she found herself.

Just like us. Today. 


So what are the elements that contributed to Michel and David's relationship erosion?

1. Separation - physical and emotional
2. Allowing situations over which you have no control to make you bitter
3. A runaway, critical tongue
4. Focusing on what you don't have rather than being grateful for what you do

Gulp. 

In retrospect, these are all elements that I, too, have been guilty of allowing to creep into my marriage during our difficult patches. The times when our marital vehicle ran off the road or overheated.

And I feel sure that the key to our marriage still being on the road after 33 years is found in #4 above. It can be nutshelled into one word: gratitude. If we seek a spirit of gratitude, and make it a priority to renew our grateful attitudes daily, everything else in #1-3 will become a non-issue.

Those potholes of emotional distance, bitterness, and destructive criticism will be paved over with humbleness, patience, and generosity of spirit. And our marital Edsel won't break down nearly so often. Strangely enough, we won't want to ditch the old boring model and upgrade anymore. We might put forth a little elbow grease and polish it up. We'll actually begin to respect and admire it just like when it was new and shiny.

It's hard to stab a man when you're holding his hand.  











    

 

Lovin' Those Grace Kisses

Okay, I realize I'm delinquent in announcing the long awaited birth of Baby Blaine - my very first grand. I stand guilty as charged by my faithful readers who have scolded me soundly for my omission.

He's two weeks old today and cute as a newborn porcupine (have you ever seen one? They really are cute!) and not nearly as prickly.

As I shower the little fellow with baby kisses all over his pink scrunchy face, I can't help but be reminded of Papa God's love for us, His precious children.

He loves to cover us with kisses too - little intimate caresses of affirmation and affection born of His overflowing love, grace, and mercy for us.

Grace kisses. Yep. That's what they are.

We can't earn them and certainly don't deserve them. No more than Baby Blaine did anything to deserve all the love lavished on him because ... well, just because. He's one of us. Part of the family. More than just accepted, he's beloved simply because of who he is, not for anything he's done or will do.

And if I stop my frantic pace long enough to focus, I can actually imagine curling up into my Heavenly Father's big ole lap and feel His arms encircle my tense body and envelop me in His sublime tenderness.

Ahhh. So nice.  

So I hope you'll take a moment today and bask in the warmth of Papa God's grace kisses all over your scrunchy face. Relax. Enjoy. Can you feel His soft, loving lips caress your forehead? Be still and know that you are loved.  

Who Has Your Back?

I was incredibly blessed with not just one but two grace notes this week. Just in case you're not aware, that's the phrase I coined in my book, Mom NEEDS Chocolate, for the special little touches from God ... His fingerprints on our lives.

Yep, they were amazing grace notes all right, because they showed me exactly Who was orchestrating the everyday events of my life. The little things that seem like coincidences at first glance. The occurrences that may not seem important or earth-shaking at the time, but that end up making up the real stuff of life.

Grace note #1 crept up on Wednesday, the day I arbitrarily chose to drive over to Sarasota to:
a) Pick up my books that had been consigned to a particular bookstore
b) Stop by and meet the new manager of a different bookstore
c) Get together with a dear friend I don't get to see very often for lattes

As I walked into the (a) bookstore, I was surprised to see a radio booth set up beneath a sign, "The Authors Connection." An author interview was being taped at that very moment. As the bookstore manager was checking me out (my books, not my bod!), the producer of the web radio show heard by 10 million listeners in 142 countries walked over to where I stood with my stack of titles and said,

"Oh, my goodness, are you an author?"

"Um, yep," I answered like the brilliant wordsmith I am.

To which she replied, "Wow - I can't believe our luck! We only come here one afternoon a month to schedule back-to-back half-hour author interviews for our show; but we have an unexpected opening at 3:30. (It was 2:30 at the time). I was just trying to figure out what to do. Could you possibly wait around?"

Gulp. Could I? Are you kidding me? Where do I sign up?


Outwardly I paused, pretending to consider. Stay calm, cool, collected. Try not to cheer. "Well, I suppose so," I acquiesced, then turned around and secretly pumped my fist.

The interview was a blast; the balding, dignified man who interviewed me about my upcoming women's book Too Blessed to Be Stressed: Inspiration for Climbing Out of Life's Stress-Pool turned out to be a girlfriend in disguise and fed off my offbeat chic chat flawlessly with wit and finesse. Our chemistry was great. About halfway through, the producer signaled for the interviewer to keep going, so we ended up taping a full hour. It will air June 21 from 11 am - noon on RadioEarNetwork.com.

Now for grace note #2.

On Friday I left for a hand therapy conference in Orlando, where therapists and orthopedic surgeons from all over Florida gather once yearly to learn about new procedures and catch up with old friends. Well, although there were many colleagues with whom I enjoyed reconnecting, there was one particular therapist I did NOT want to see.

Karen (name changed for privacy) and I had a falling out almost two years ago. We had a history of being co-workers and friendly acquaintances for twenty years at that point, but I was wounded by a series of actions on Karen's part and felt justified in cutting off all communication with her when I left my position for a new job.

This was the first time we had been under the same roof in all that time. I noticed her sitting on the opposite side of the large meeting room and when we chanced to pass in the hallway, we both averted our eyes.

Friday night in my comfy hotel bed, I felt duly convicted and argued with Papa God about the injustice of the situation. I was the one who had been wronged! Why did I have to chew my pride like tough gristle and be the one to gather the hammer and nails to build a bridge?

But I knew what I had to do.

All morning Saturday, I looked for a chance to speak privately to Karen, but there was no opportunity. During one of the last presentations of the conference, I snuck from the meeting room to check out and take my suitcase to my car. On my way, I shot up a little "I-tried-but-it-didn't-pan-out" prayer and added, "Lord, if you want me to say something to Karen, you're going to have to make it happen."

Two minutes later, while I was en route from the parking lot back into the building, wouldn't you know who was standing just outside the door -  all alone - checking her phone messages?

I nearly cried right then and there, not because I was able to finally set things right with Karen, but because it was undeniably apparent that my Papa God does indeed care about the details of my life.

And yours.

What a huge relief to know Who has our backs!

Hoof Prints Across my Heart

Ahh. I just adore the peace and rest I always find in my favorite getaway on earth ... our little cabin nestled deep in the bosom of the Smoky Mountains.

There are just so many footprints of the Almighty everywhere I look: layer upon layer of purple, hazy mountain peaks, crystal clear streams gushing and gurgling happily down their rocky creek beds, tee-tiny titmice warbling, hummers humming and chipmunks scurrying to and fro doing whatever it is chipmunks do.

And deer almost sending our car off a sheer cliff.

No kidding.

As we drove the 20 miles down the winding, twisty mountain road just last Sunday morning to a church on the other side of our mountain, my husband Chuck and I unexpectedly came face to face with eternity.

We were cruising along, tapping our toes and singing along with 70s music by the likes of Elton John and Norman Greenbaum. Good stuff, that. Easy to forget your worries and lose yourself in the groovy beat.

Just as we rounded a curve, a large deer bounded out of the woods bordering the narrow, two-lane road and stepped out onto the pavement directly in front of our car. Unable to stop that suddenly, the only response left to Chuck was to swerve into the other lane. But that option was not an option at all, for although we hadn't seen another vehicle all morning, wouldn't you know a car was rapidly approaching from the opposite direction.

Miraculously (and I use that term intentionally), the animal paused, turning his head first left, at us, and then right at the approaching car. Then, as if making a calculated decision, he spun around and fled back from whence he came, his white-tailed haunches disappearing  into the dense brush of the virgin forest.

This all happened within the span of about three seconds. Like hoof prints across my heart.

The pinched, white face of the other driver as he passed confirmed what we already knew: any alternative move on the part of the deer would have likely sent one or both of our cars careening down the side of the cliff yawning rail-less on the other side of the road.

Gulp.

Good-bye Yellow Brick Road.
Hello Spirit in the Sky.

But as my granddaddy would say, it just wasn't our time. We continued on to church - a little more trembly and a lot more aware of the fragility of life. It could all be over in the flash of an antler.

It was a major grace note - my term for God's little everyday miracles that prove He's got our backs. That all the details of our lives matter to Him. That Psalms 121:7 is not an idle promise: The Lord will keep you from all harm - he will watch over your life (NIV).

And if He's on our side, honestly, who can be against us? Not even Bambi.

  

  

Death is a Door

My daughter is 8-months pregnant with my first grandchild - a joyful and wondrous time for all of us as we watch the miraculous formation of new life.

But that joy was seriously shaken this week when one of my daughter's friends gave birth to a precious baby boy, Nathan, who lived only one hour. I'd like to share with you an excerpt from a poem Jessie wrote for his mourning wife Anna (names changed for privacy) and read at the baby's memorial service.

Please open wide your heart and pray for this grieving young couple who, right here at Easter time, can truly comprehend the grief of our Heavenly Father upon the death of his dearly beloved Son.

Little Did I Know

Little did I know ...
That one day in a doctor's office, I would see my wife fall to pieces,
all the hurt and all the pain without any reasons.
God did not ask, and God did not tell, that days ahead would seem to us like a living hell.

Why us?
Why him? she asked.
But not twice, not even once did she beg for it to pass.
To be a husband and to be helpless is one thing I will never forget.
But to be married to my wife is something I will never regret.
We cried, and we prayed and looked to each other for protection,
but before long we knew that's why God sent his Son in our direction.

Little DO I know
why, on April 15th, we would see ourselves begging at His feet.
The anticipation of the unknown was so hard to bear,
some would ask did God ever hear us or did He even care?

The day was here and the time had come for us to give back our little son.
As she held him in her arms, and touched his little face, there was not a sound in the room,

Beloved son, Nathan

only peace in that place.
An hour went by as we enjoyed his short life,
and I stood by amazed at my beautiful wife.

Everything I know tells me all the prayers and late night calls were not in vain,
Because God still prevails, God is still our ALL.
We might not ever know the reason for Nathan's death,
but rest assured it was not his last breath.
We will stay strong in our faith during the days ahead
because we know that our God is alive and our God  is not dead.
Nathan only had a few breaths of life, but his last here was his first with our
Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Everything I know still won't answer why
Our faith was put through this test,
but I never doubted once that He gave me the best.

My Heart's in the Arts

My daughter Cricket

I had a rather disturbing conversation recently with a co-worker in children's church. At least it was for me, although he seemed unfazed.

I was preparing to show a clip from the overtly Christian movie, Facing the Giants, at the end of a David and Goliath lesson for over 100 elementary-aged kids. When I mentioned how the last football scene in the movie always gave me chill bumps and misty eyes, Sean (name changed), my "co-host," abruptly stated that he'd never seen the movie and probably never would.

"Why not?" I asked, astonished. I knew he had a son and daughter who were the perfect ages to benefit from the tremendous application message in the film about honoring God in sports (and life) no matter what - win or lose.

"Because," he stated rather smugly, I thought, "the acting and directing are reportedly sub-par. As an actor myself, I can't abide movies or plays that don't achieve the highest standards."

"Oh, I see. So you've never been to your children's school plays? Or any church productions?"

"It's not the same thing. They're not professionals."

"But what is their end goal - their purpose (as believers) for performing?"

"To glorify God, of course."

"And what is the purpose of Christian producers, directors and actors in the mainstream arts?"

Sean paused. "To glorify God, I suppose." The irony of his answer seemed to sink in as his face colored slightly. "But when I'm spending money to see a film, I want to spend it on something that will edify and challenge me. Not something that I could have done better myself."

"I thought you said you'd never seen it."

"I haven't."

"Then how do you know God wouldn't use it to touch your heart, or edify and challenge your wife or your children through a movie that was completely created and dedicated to His service? The first time I saw it, I thought some of the acting could have been better, but in the end, it didn't matter one whit. I was so caught up in the story and the wonder of God's miraculous intervention in the lives of the characters that I was intensely moved, more than by any movie I've seen in a long time. In the Bible, God speaks through donkeys and chickens. Why would you assume He can't speak through arts created by gifted people who love Him?"

Sean shrugged and turned away, but I noticed later while the clip was playing he was riveted to the screen along with every other eye in the room.

I feel very strongly about supporting faith-based arts. I'm not saying we have to pretend to like them all, but I feel that we owe it to our brothers and sisters in the Lord to support their efforts to use their talents and abilities in His name. After all, He intentionally gave them their talents and abilities for just that purpose.

I want my money to speak for my choice to dwell on things that are true and honorable and right; things that are pure and lovely and admirable (Phil.4:8). I want Hollywood to know by my attendance - numbers ares the only way to speak their language - that I support movies that make me think about that which is spiritually "excellent and worthy of praise."

And I'm willing to plunk my Andrew Jacksons down as proof.

I haven't yet seen the newest big screen phenomena, Soul Surfer, but I plan to as soon as Spouse emerges from tax week and we can manage to carve out a date night. I've heard good things about it, but even if I hadn't, I'd go to make a moral statement. And I hope you will too.  

 

Even the Rocks Will Cry Out!

Had a wonderfully uplifting weekend worshiping, learning and just plain goofing off with a delightful group of ladies at an international Free Methodist women's conference.

Representatives of three cultures were there, with interpreters simultaneously speaking during my talks. That was a first for me.

One group had headset translators, with a male translator sitting in the back of the room doing his best to translate unique Debbie Coty terms like "joy-sucking dully-funks" that are sprinkled throughout my presentations. I apologized to him afterward for my girls only talk that included the three B's: boys, boobs and babies. Thankfully, he had a robust sense of humor.

The other translator spoke aloud to her group, which created an interesting echo whenever I paused for breath. After the first twenty minutes, I got (sort of) used to focusing on what I was saying instead of standing mesmerized like a deer in headlights watching her lips fly. I'm quite sure I never got the hang of speaking slowly enough, and want to take this opportunity to express appreciation to hard-working, under-appreciated translators everywhere.

The sing-along songs were a real hoot. I almost always include one of my original funny sing-along songs in my presentations, and it was quite an experience when half of the group could't read the lyrics (in English) and therefore couldn't follow the gestures either. It was really hilarious watching everyone do their best to copy the hand motions of their neighbors without knowing what in the world they meant. The Haitian ladies did an especially good job ad-libbing.

But I'm telling you - there's nothing quite like singing spirited praise songs in a room full of simultaneous languages. Everyone came together in a unity of spirit that was incredible. God must have been smiling. I know I was.