Acts of Service

Dr. Gary Chapman wrote a book about Love Languages. He identifies 5: 1) time,2) affirmative words, 3) acts of service, 4) gifts, and 5) physical touch.
Years ago I recognized my number one language is "acts of service." Help me clean up my house, my car, my office ----even the dishes and I feel the hand of God.
After a really bad week, my sister Mary Helen, and her husband Smith came to my house....ostensibly to get away and have a quiet weekend. BUT NO! They were here to love me --- and love me in the most wonderful way. Mary Helen planted flowers for my front porch, then they cut down dead bushes, raked leaves, and swept off the porches. I am still tearful when I think of the great love they showed me.
It is Easter Day and a day to recognize the Christ who loved us while we were yet in sin.
Mary Helen and Smith loved me while I was still a basket case recovering from a broken heart.
"They will know you are my disciples by your love one for another."
The joy of the Lord is my strength, and the love of my family is my ever strong fortress.

"We are People of the Third Day!" Bill Lawrence's powerful statement is permanently imprinted on my brain and heart. We sat in the dark on a cold Easter morning, gathered on Flag Pole Hill in Dallas. The hillside was covered with blankets, grumpy children, and parents who thought this was a good idea a few days ago! I imagine it was mostly Moms who engineered this spiritual family time, don't you?
It didn't matter ---- Bill's words cut through all of that and landed in my heart just like a Percy Jackson character hurling the lightening bolt.
Lately, though, I have been thinking a great deal about the Second Day. What was that like? Confusion, exhaustion, recrimination, and maybe even some personal examination ----It seems like much of my life is spent in the valley between the unthinkably awful and the gloriously discernible ----the Saturdays of life.
But even without the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, the disciples did the right thing ---- they did all of this together. They held on to each other. We are a community of faith ---- we are to do good to all men, ESPECIALLY those of the household of faith.
There weren't any activities going on that day ---- no fancy meals being prepared, no fancy dresses being ironed, no fancy hairdos being worked on. They were just together wondering how their world had fallen apart. They didn't know Easter was coming. They didn't even know to be dying eggs and hiding them in the yard for the next morning!
This second day is where we live a lot. We make out way through unspeakable pain somehow and eventually the Lord brings us into resurrection; it is that second day experience that is so excruciating. But, we do it together. "We are one in the Spirit, we are one in the Lord" said the old Jesus Movement song ----they were one and so should we be.
Yes, we are People of the Third Day, but with each other, we should be standing together when our brothers and sisters are living in their second days!

Shout To The Lord

I played for a funeral yesterday. How I remember the very first one...it was in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. The family gave me a piece of driftwood with pine cones and silk flowers glued on as my remuneration.
I realized that day what joy is mine to be part of these services. My spiritual gift of encouragement fully flowers when I play It Is Well With My Soul.

Everyone expects quiet, solemn music and I don't do that ---- I do emotional and triumphant. I want to trigger the "Yes, Jesus!" response among those who are grieving at their loss --- I want them to understand the glorious victory which is ours in Christ Jesus.

I used to think strong music was disrespectful, but I now know our spirits need this expression.

I only play music with identifiable words so the attendees can worship in their heads and hearts. It isn't about my music, but about the One who created it. It isn't about my skill, but about the "playing skillfully with a shout of joy!"

Martin Luther said every believer needed the Bible and a hymnal. How true.

Stuck Place

When I wrote Divine Confinement, I used "Facing Seasons of Limitation" as the subtitle. I have always liked that. It was about ways to navigate the choppy waters of the stuck places in life.
It is time for me to reread the book ---- I am stuck. Struck down by the end of a budding relationship, my forward progress is nil. I forgot how much a heart can hurt. This isn't something to eagerly anticipate. Suddenly, the tripe about the value of pain seems trite. I don't think I want a matured heart ----I just want the pain to stop.
In this Holy Week, we think about the last earthly days of our Lord Jesus Christ. While most focus on the cross, I find great emotional substance in the garden of Gethsemane. Dad used to sing "I walked today where Jesus walked." One of the scenes is in the solitary place "where all alone He prayed." My sister shared ideas with me this week about the agonizing loneliness of the garden. There are times when the silence of God has such weight we think we will fall under it's mass. Even an "attaboy" would have been welcome as Jesus bared His soul and submitted to the Father. At the public baptism, the dove hovered and the voice thundered....and the people cheered. In the aloneness of Gethsemane, nothing but the night surrounded our Lord. This week I have had some of those awful nights, but nothing will ever compare to the sheer darkness of His moments.
He went through the garden to the cross in obedience to the Father who chose Jesus as the sin bearer for all of us. Jesus knew separation would come. But this very separation on the cross enables me to hold on in this season. I hate it ---I really do. The experience of betrayal and deceit rubbed my soul raw, but this soreness can never compare to the suffering of my Lord. In His season of limitation, He took on flesh to walk among us to share in our pain and to now be our mediator and intercessor.
Hallelujah, what a Savior. Holy week enables me to be whole, even when I feel shredded. Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift.

Coming or Going

There is an old story about a little boy who goes to Sunday School and is taught Adam was made from the dust of the earth. The teacher then told the class our lives are simply "dust to dust." The next day he ran into his Mom and told her he climbed under his bed. "There's somebody either coming or going!"
This picture of the Christmas lights made me think of that for am I preparing to decorate for Christmas or possibly preparing to de-light my house to the delight of my neighbors?
Gratefully, those are the lights from the front porch after being removed string by string! And they are getting ready to move from the corner table to their plastic containers for safekeeping until next December.
If it took until nearly April 1 to get them down, wonder how long it will take to actually get them into their plastic tubs and up into the attic? I am sure there is a betting pool forming somewhere!
When I took the last strand down, I felt such relief and such a sense of productivity. Undone things hang over me like the sword of Damocles.
When I was young I was a prodigious reader. I LOVED checking books out of the library, but I had great difficulty getting them back. I hid them beneath my bed so today the items on my procrastination list are known as things "under the bed."
A friend of mine is probably in her last days. One of the things I won't put under the bed is the opportunity to go see her and tell her how much she has influenced my life. Lights can wait --- friendships can't. Life is fragile - we can never take it for granted. If you are reading this, please check your list and put "loving others" high on the must-do side of the ledger.

Signs of the Times

This is the entrance sign. Why the attention? We got the new sign after two teenage boys, racing their pickups, missed the turn and demolished our old one.
We moaned and groaned, thinking management was going to leave us bereft of any indication we existed. And with no lights other than those on the sign, we often missed the turn at night.
Then, one day a work crew appeared. With great interest, we watched their slow progress wondering about the plan. "They are just going to plant trees and leave it at that." "They are going to pocket the insurance money and run." Amazing how our grapevine can run wild over such a small item. When you live among the retired, the smallest event triggers a flurry of rumors.
Without much fanfare, the new sign appeared last week.....quite beautiful and well-lighted.
I couldn't miss the spiritual parallels. It seems lately I have had several of life's signs torn down. It seems dark when I am making turns, and I grumble. "Lord, what is your will? Lord, don't you love me enough to let me know what you want? It is dark out here and I need light!"
Quietly, He teaches me to trust Him. "Brenda, there's something beautiful coming....just hang on and stop complaining.....and stop making assumptions about Me!"
I think each time I pass the entrance, I will hopefully remember that our property management company cares about our welfare and my heavenly Property Manager cares way more than I could ever know.

Please be patient with me

This looks like a leftover from the 30 year snow storm of several weeks ago, doesn't it? BUT NO! A week ago I awoke on a Sunday morning, got busy getting ready for church and waited for sunrise with no thought of the weather. As I walked through the house, I glanced out and saw THIS! Winter wasn't finished.
Today it is 70 degrees and hopefully no more surprises await. But it reminded me of the phrase we used in the 70s: PBPGIFWMY....Please be patient, God isn't finished with me yet. Winter wasn't finished with us and had a last hoorah.
I am thankful the snow melted, but I am also very thankful God doesn't give up on me with a last hoorah! There is so much work left for Him to do and I am grateful He is faithful in and out of season.