When Saturday is the Worst Day of the Week

Saturdays can be so hard. Saturday can be the most gut-wrenching day of the week. It was for the friends and loved ones of Jesus. The interminable trial, the false witnesses and attacks that never seem to end. But they did end. They ended with "Guilty!" They ended with an excruciating, humiliating, incomprehensible death. There was the hasty burial, taking his battered body down from the cross. There was their own cowardice and fear, and absolutely no sense of closure. No time to say "I'm sorry." No time to process the sudden swing in circumstances. And now it was Saturday.

Saturday. When you know for sure the thing you most dreaded really, truly happened. Saturday. When you have no evidence for hope. The dream is over. Saturday. When the spectators who felt sorry for you and wept with you, but didn't actually experience the loss you have experienced have gone back to their normal lives, and you are more alone and devastated than you could have ever comprehended. It's THAT Saturday.

They didn't know. They could not see, and surely could not imagine that in the bleakness, under cover of the darkest night, God Himself was working. On Saturday. While demons danced, Satan sneered, and the shards of broken hearts pierced their lungs with every ragged breath, God was working. On Saturday, God was staging the greatest come from behind victory this world, the world above, and the world beneath would ever see! He was doing all that was necessary to resuscitate and resurrect all that was dead and broken.

But on Saturday they didn't know. On Saturday they were on the verge of torching their futures because of what had happened Friday.

Sunday came in the nick of time. The rays of Saturday's afternoon sun were not comforting, only intrusive. As Saturday's daylight slowly faded to dusk, and their swollen eyes craved rest that would not come, their dread intensified. Tomorrow. Who needed it? Another day of pain, despair.  Saturday was only the firstborn of the futile future...stretching out into grey nothingness. Endlessly.

If only they could have known what Sunday would bring! If only they could have seen past Saturday, anticipation would have replaced agony. They would have known that Life and Truth won't stay buried. They would have realized that Jesus was about to restore joy...the unspeakable, undeniable kind.

But it was Saturday. They were in the process of giving up. Is it Saturday for you? Stretch yourself to hold on in the darkness. Take hold of hope. God has a perfect record for doing his most amazing miracles in the night. See past Saturday and believe for Sunday. Joy comes in the morning!

Hijacked

The German Airbus that crashed in the Alps, taking 154 precious souls immediately into eternity, was not a tragic accident? Seriously? Could it actually be that a co-pilot, sharing the same eternal soul as the 154 innocents, deliberately chose to end his own life,  AND take all of them without their choice into that mountain with him? It seems impossible. The stuff of a horror drama.

Yet it is true. The black box tells the story. The crew and passengers wailed and screamed with only moments to grasp the magnitude of what was happening, to try to make last minute preparations to grieve over faces they would never again see, words they would never once more speak, hoped for experiences they would never live. Only moments to push those thoughts aside and prepare for the most important moment in life and eternity--meeting their Maker face to face.Oh, the agony. Oh, the anguish.

Who has the right to do such a thing? Right. No one. It is unthinkable. Unthinkable to remove another person's choice and send them into certain destruction. Yet it happens daily. Not with Alps mountains and Airbuses---in moments less dramatic and public, but with the same weighty consequences. One person without regard for the hopes, dreams, and soul of another makes a choice that forever alters the other person's destiny.

There are the drunk drivers, the reckless drivers. There are the drug dealers, the drug users---making choices that drag their entire circle of love into the flaming wreckage of lives out of control. There are  the abusers, the enslavers, who in one act forever change who that child victim is and will be. There are the name callers, the vicious attackers, who in a verbal assault, generally over something trivial in the grand scheme of things, curse, pillage and vandalize the spirits of their targets beyond recognition. The ones who brand weaker spirits with names of shame, disgust, and dripping bile...setting their auto-pilot to eventually crash into the jagged and unforgiving walls of self-hatred.
These terrorists are parents, spouses, lovers, supposed friends. People who are supposed to be the providers and guardians of heaven heading their helpless life passengers into the hottest of hells.

All of these hijackings that occur on a daily basis in some way involve the world's most potent weapon--the words we say, crafted by the tongue we are entrusted to steward for good. With it we make choices and requests that forever change our lives and those of the people around us. With it we speak words which dominate and direct not only ourselves but the people who share life with us. A book of ancient wisdom that never grows old, the New Testament Book of James, testifies about the destructive ability of our words, "The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one's life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell."  On the opposite end, Solomon, wisest of all the men who ever lived, said that the right word spoken at the right time is beyond beautiful and incredibly valuable.

We all are flying at a high altitude in the intense and demanding environment of 2015 life. No one has the right to lock themselves in a personal cockpit of self-centered oblivion, subjecting others to their arrogance, desires,frustration, or even pain, depression, or disappointment. My prayer today:
"Set a guard over my mouth, LORD; keep watch over the door of my lips." (Psalm 141:3) May those who travel with me travel safely.

Brenda's Beef Stew

So, I made beef stew for family dinner this week, and served it to rave reviews. It looked beautiful, smelled even better, and tasted pretty good, if I have to say so myself. But here's some inside information. Every time I make beef stew, it does well when it is fresh and new, but Charlie never appreciates it quite like he does the third or fourth time around. When the stew is a few days old, the meat has pretty much fallen apart, the carrots and potatoes are so integrated into the gravy that nothing lacks the full flavor of the beef--that is when Charlie declares it a masterpiece. It doesn't LOOK as good as it did when it was fresh and new, but it has truly developed into a delectable wonder.

I think that really wonderful women in our culture are a bit like my beef stew. We get the most attention when we are new and fresh and a feast for the eyes. We often get the most appreciation and admiration then we will ever get. We look good, we smell good---everyone wants something we have to offer.

Then it happens. When the newness is gone, when the bowl is not as attractive and shows a little messiness left by all who have been blessed by the She-Stew (husbands, children, friends, jobs, endless housework and community service...you name the diners, many double-dippers), She is often set on a shelf, pushed to the back and forgotten. What a shame. Hungry people, needing just what she has to offer, go without, and she is wasted. That's why so many women in our high demand for "fresh this morning" culture obsess over aging and grab at anything that promises to restrain reality.

But, thank God,  there are those who know what's good when they taste it. They look past the no longer pristine presentation, and they see a masterpiece, an incredible blend of flavors that could only come to perfection over time. The tender meat is treasured, the vegetables are savored, and the She-Stew is prized for what she has to offer she didn't have at an earlier stage. No sitting on the shelf for this bowl. This one will be handled with honor to the very last drop.

Frankly, the She-Stew named Brenda was initially on the menu quite a few years ago now. I will be the first to admit I don't look like I used to; if you are looking for pretty as a picture and "just cooked this morning", keep walking. You won't find that here. :-)

I am so blessed, however. My husband, my family, and my church family encourage me to believe that I am better than ever. They don't focus on what I no longer have; they applaud the new flavors life and service have given me. Frankly, I know me best, and I know for certain I am a far better version of me than when I started. My Heavenly Father keeps seasoning me up, and seems to plan to keep using me at His table as long as I am willing.

That's my hope for all older women. If you have an older woman in your life---mother, sister, co-worker, neighbor---don't discount her or put her on a shelf. If you give her a chance, you may be surprised at the unexpected flavor she will bring to your life. She may be much better than you remember, better than you knew, improved with age and seasoning. It's worth a taste.

Daystar, Shine Down On Me

Lord, in my little spot on the planet, the sun is slowly creeping up to chase back the shadows. In my frail humanity, some times things look different at night. I can see sinister shapes and hear minute noises. In the darkness, I could convince myself the Sun has abandoned me, forsaking my spot on the planet.

When it is dark emotionally, I often am the same. I am tempted to trust my perceptions because what is REAL is seems blocked. I wonder why the Son is so long in coming. I see my situation as dark and sinister. I lose touch with Who and what is truly REAL. 

You are the Bright and Morning Star. You are the Son of Righteousness. You NEVER disappear. You ARE reality. Even when my little spot in this wide world is momentarily moved, shifted for a season, You are still seeing me. You are still the Ultimate Reality and your love, wisdom, and power has no boundaries. You have made me for day and for night, and neither diminish or increase Who You are. YOU ARE Reality. Always.

I have friends in another spot on the planet who are just as loved as I am. As the day winds down and shadows lengthen for them, help these precious ones hold fast to Reality. May they know that they know the Son is shining. For those huddled in the dark night of the soul, hearing threatening sounds, deafening silence, afraid of what they feel---Daystar! Rise in their hearts with a glimmer of hope.

"Lord, I want to be Your witness--You can take what's wrong and make it right.
 Daystar, shine down on me, let Your love shine through me in the night.

 Lord, I see a world that's dying,
Wounded by the master of deceit,
Groping in the darkness,
Haunted by the years of past defeat;
But then I see You standing near me, Lord,
Shining with compassion in Your eyes.
Jesus, shine down on me,
Let Your love shine through me in the night.

Lead me, Lord, I'll follow
Anywhere You open up the door.
Let Your Word speak to me;
Show me what I've never seen before.
Lord, I want to be a witness
You can take what's wrong and make it right.
Daystar, shine down on me,
Let Your love shine through me in the night.

Daystar, shine down on me,
Let Your love shine through me in the night.
Jesus, shine down on me,
Let Your love shine through me in the night."(Steve Richardson)

The Sun of Righteousness is rising with healing in His Wings. That is what is REAL. Amen. Let it be so.

The Jonathan Factor

I have been studying the story of Jonathan, son of King Saul, for a soon coming spring series on bold risk-taking. Jonathan's life was fairly short, but very impacting, because he stepped up and seized the moment and opportunity in front of him.  One of my favorite young preachers has said, "If the size of your vision isn't intimidating to you, it is insulting to God." Steven Furtick gets fairly consistent criticism for his audacious faith and bold risk-taking in the Name of Christ. But his stance is not new. In 1577 a revered follower of Christ named Sir Francis Drake went even further in his prayers. God help me.

Disturb us, Lord, when
We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask You to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.
Sir Francis Drake -1577