Learning to Believe

He put a new song in my mouth,
    a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear and put 

their trust in the Lord.

Psalm 40:3

I love this scripture. It communicates that God gave me a new song—a new story to share; because of this new song, many will grow in trusting the LORD. This is my heart’s desire. 



Birthday flowers

My new song is a long song; it has many verses. Some have yet to be written. A few are hard to share.

Verse 1        Salvation              fall, 1966                                                                Verse 2        Identity                winter, 2000                                                         Verse 3        Self-hatred                    winter, 2004 (I don’t like typing that word.)         Verse 4        Consecrated         summer, 2008                                                

Verse 5        VOW aware          spring, 2012                                                 

Verse 6        Desired                winter, 2013                                                        Verse 7        Believing              summer, 2013 (I title this verse in faith.)

Learning to believe—this is where I am living right now.

You ask, didn’t that happen in the fall of ’66?  Yes and no.

The night, the time, the place, the people are etched in my mind. I knelt in the upstairs bedroom and responded to Jesus’ invitation. My friend Shirley witnessed and rejoiced understanding  more than me the significance of my simple prayer. Later that evening she invited me to participate in my first small group Bible study. Thank you, Shirley.

It made sense; Christianity is more than religion, it is a friendship with God. Those first weeks I floated. Prayer made sense; I was having a conversation with a God who was listening. I wanted to learn more; I found new friends who were also interested in Bible study. Life was good.

But I didn’t leave me behind. My personal baggage—my past, my joys, my sorrows, my experiences, my insecurities—all of my humanity came with me; they defined me. Jesus never promised to transform my flesh. The line of baggage was long; I squinted to see the end.

  

Unpacking the first bags was encouraging; I liked what I found. The first bag held my heart for God. Church, Sunday school, youth group had always filled my Sundays. This new place seemed natural.

In the second bag I found my friendliness. Recruiting my first Bible study was also natural. God was encouraging me to be who He created me to be.

As I continued to unpack, God began entrusting me with some of the harder stuff—like my insecurities. Often I felt not good enough. That ugly untruth plagued me for many years.

As I journeyed, I needed to peer into more and more of the bags. The truth packed in those bags always seemed to relate to the previous lessons and confronted me with deeper wisdom—if only I would believe.  

Some of the bags brought ah-ha moments; others led to tears. Accepting and believing their story was always a step forward on my journey.

Some could be unpacked quickly; most could not. The heavy truths needed pondering, explanation and understanding. I persevered.

What I’m learning:

1.   I need to give everything to God for Him to use as He chooses. Sometimes His choice is that I share it. I need to obey.

2.   I need to trust God with the bags He wants me to unpack…even the order in which I unpack them.

3.   With each unpacked bag, I need to rest; breathe; thank God for entrusting me with this truth; I need to smile.




Roses are more fragrant as they open.

I wonder, have you identified the verses of your new song?

Many of the posts I will write this summer can be captured under the theme, Learning to Believe. I’ll be vulnerable. Will you join me?

“…because I have heard of your faith …I do not cease to give thanks for you remembering you in my prayers, that …God…may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation…having the eyes of your hearts enlightened…and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe,…”           

 Ephesians 1:15-19

“Because of the LORD’s great love, we are not consumed,”              

 Lamentations 3:22

New Life

Our cul-de-sac is home to eleven families; two homes are reduced to ashes; severe smoke damage in a third keeps the family away. I drive more slowly these days saddened by the charred landscape. I pray more in the car.

Three and a half weeks have passed. Our lives, our friends’ lives changed forever and daily impacted by the Black Forest fire.

But besides the sad picture and the ever-present aroma of smoke, something is different. Life is different—in a good way.

Green poking through

Green is stubbornly pushing through the blackened charcoal earth. A gift causing my breath to catch each time I notice.

Determined green

All eleven of us who call Piedra Vista home are relating. E-mails fly through cyber space; we keep each other posted. Neighbors stop cars and visit more often; hugs and real emotions are entrusted. Lawnmowers are borrowed; food is shared. Get-togethers are in the works; invitations given on a new level. Several created a thank you care package for our local firefighters. 

Brownies for firefighters

Neighbors help neighbors sift. (Before the Waldo Canyon fire a year ago, I didn't know this definition of sift.)There is a new togetherness.


One neighbor landscaped for another.

We’ve always known each other by name; we haven’t always related.

I wonder where all this will lead.

I am learning to believe.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flames shall not consume you.”                                            

Isaiah 43: 2

I heard laughter while neighbors sifted.

The 4th of July

Living in Colorado, Independence Day falls in the middle of the summer; growing up it heralded the beginning of summer and freedom from school for 2 ½ whole months.

As a child, The 4^th of July meant traditions, connections, and celebrations. One of the traditions started several days before the 4^th when Dad would gather our lawn chairs and stake out our family spot on the towns parade route. We needed the best place to catch the candy thrown from the floats as well as the rays from the morning sun.

The morning of the fourth arrived; our flag flew proudly from our front porch. My sisters and I could hardly wait to pack into our car and head downtown for the first of the day’s festivities, the parade. It snaked through town from our church (Westside Pres), under the railroad tracks, turned right, and then left onto Ridgewood Ave, down the center of town ending at Veterans Field. And that was only the beginning of the fun filled day.

There was little time after the parade before the bar-b-que that brought extended family and neighbors together. I don’t remember Dad grilling a lot in the summer; but he always did on the 4^th.

As the sun descended, the whole town—it seemed—descended on Veterans Field for the concert and fireworks display. It was wonderful to lie on blankets on soft grass and ohhh and ahhh as each firework was shot into the night sky. There was always a bit of sadness as the last series of booms and lights quickly shot up and floated down one after the other. The contented smiles washed across our faces spoke of the joy of the 4^th.

There is a special energy that flows through a town that embraces celebration. I’m glad I grew up in one of them.  

I knew why we celebrated July 4^th; I didn’t know our activities were first suggested by John Adams in 1776. I found these words penned to his wife Abigail revealing. Traditions, connections, and celebrations have a long history.

The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.

Now I am a grown up child and live in a town with 5 military installations. Some of our best friends are retired military. It’s been a joy to establish new traditions, connections, and celebrations with these friends.

As a grown up child, not only do I enjoy the realities of the freedom that the 4^th of July represents, I also live in the reality of the freedom I enjoy as a child of God.

What about you? How do you celebrate this mid-summer day of Independence?

You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. John 8:32

Describing and Explaining

Describing



Fire traveling across the forest floor

I lowered the windows in my 4Runner and turned off the key. The short jaunt to our next-door neighbor took one minute. But the black ash and soot curtailed my steps for the 300 foot walk between our homes. To trek through it meant stirring up cinders while holding a tissue across my nose and mouth.

Fire crowning in the trees

 The landscape of the final 1.5 miles before turning left onto our street is forever scarred. The Black Forest inferno consumed almost every home on both sides of this road we travel almost daily. In its wake it left piles of ash, skeletons of vehicles, brick chimneys, a view we never before saw, and blackened matchsticks that only hours earlier were majestic Ponderosa Pines, a playground for squirrels and the residences of birds.

The view as I drove in from Kansas.

Two weeks ago Bill fled our home; a thick curtain of black billowing smoke heading his way enveloped the end of our short dirt road. His heart pounded in his chest; he called me on my cell. (I was driving home from a week in Kansas.) His words, “Honey, we’re going to lose our home.” Five hours later in the safety of a friend’s living room, I collapsed in his arms. Our tears mingled.

Flowers alive and bringing the gift of beauty

Thirteen days later, as I often do, I sat on the wooden deck of our home sunscreen applied and my visor in place. A brilliant blue sky silhouetted the tall green Ponderosas. The smell of smoke still permeated the air. This year’s annuals Bill planted just three days before the fire appear unscathed. They offer color, beauty, normalcy, and a place for the bees to gather nectar. The birds chirped about their experience; the squirrels scampered from one tree to another. I closed my eyes and the welcome scent of honeysuckle filled my nostrils and overcame the smoke.

How can these four pictures encompass and communicate the horror and the wonder of the past 16 days?

Explaining

I can’t.

There is no human explanation of why our home stands and our yard survived. The evidence of the fire encircles our house; our property is now blackened where once a pine needle carpet sat; in one place the scorched ground comes within an inch of our foundation. The two cords of seasoned fire wood which once stood tall a short 15 feet from a wooden fence are gone; the fence remains. We live near the origin of the fire and our home was in its destructive path.

Two of our neighbors, one across the street, another one house away, lost everything. Good friends are beginning the arduous process of sifting through the remains of their homes. We will help.  

It doesn’t make sense.

“The secret things belong to the LORD our God, …” Deuteronomy 29:29

We talk; we cry; we journal; we ponder; we listen; we connect; we do the next thing.

“Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.” Lamentations 3:22 NIV 

 

Smoke creates beautiful sunsets.

Please also check Bill's words at www.billtell.blogspot.com. His post is titled, Lessons from the Forest Fire, #1. Penned on June 27, 2013.

 Our good friend and neighbor, Del Tackett, shares some of his thoughts on his blog Truth Observed at www.deltackett.com on June 23, 2013 titled, Tragedies Withheld.

Fire

I’ve written much about hard things on this blog before. Many of the stories behind these words still ignite tears and prayers—the people spoken of are friends and family. Now, like the hem of a dress lovingly sewn by hand they surround my life, bring beauty, and keep me from unraveling.



Our neighbor's home right across the street.



This fire, the Black Forest fire, threatened to consume our home, our traditions, our memories, our neighbors, and much practical stuff—stuff with attached importance; some that could have never been replaced.



I returned to my own words. I needed to hear again what God had lovingly spoken to me. As I read the list I created for the Hard Things post, I remembered many of you telling me you were printing out that list and keeping it in your Bible as a prayer guide. Two items screamed loudly:

3. Take time to ponder, be still, and know.
                         Psalm 46:10



5. Listen to God through his word, through
    wise friends, through books.    
                          Isaiah 55:1-3

Both difficult this week. Thank you for standing in the gap for us.

It is almost impossible for me to pray when I am intimately involved with that which needs prayer. Those who continue to text scripture to us, you are ministering deeply. Thank you to our pastor, Mark Bates and his words from Romans 8:26. The Spirit is interceding; this verse has never been so real. Thank you to my friend Diane Otten who sent a word-picture that was easy to copy and pray, dear God, please keep a bubble of protection around our home.

 



Another simple, yet profound encouragement was the lovely picture of the peace lily my sister Barbara sent; then another mentioned Lamentations 3:22 in the NIV which has become my go-to scripture this week, “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed.” And thank you to Sandy Marthaler who put the two together. Sandy, that is a special gift. I plan to frame it when this chapter closes.

A huge gift comes from our friends Jason and Kara Tippetts. While they vacation in the mountains, they loaned us their home—big enough for us, our son and daughter-in-law, and their two children; they are in the midst of a cross-country move. Three year old Judah loves all the new toys.

Their above-and-beyond generosity comes from their church family who are providing meals for us. It is wonderful to not think about these details. Thank you, Westside PCA.

A scripture passage that I’ve been ruminating on this week comes from Daniel 3. Although Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were tossed into a burning fiery furnace, they came out alive, having walked with Jesus (I wonder what they talked about), without even the smell of smoke on them.

We too have been surrounded by fire; we didn’t expect our home to survive—it appears it has; we want to listen to God and hear from Him in the midst of the smoke and the ashes; and we desire that others will see God as the God who rescues.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,”

                                           Lamentations 3:22

Anniversary Ministry

Diane and I have been friends since 1981. I remember the first time we met. We had recently moved to a new city and were looking for a church home. When we entered the foyer that Sunday morning I immediately noticed Diane. Her kind smile encouraged me to come over and introduce myself. It appeared that our sons might be the same age; they were. That was the beginning.

As our friendship developed I realized we had a lot more in common than our sons. We both shared a heart for ministry to women. Diane opened her home every week for a large women’s Bible study and even provided baby-sitters. What a gift! It was there that I got to know several women who are friends to this day. Thank you, Diane.

In 1988 our family moved away, with many good memories and enough commonalities to allow our friendship to prosper even from a distance.

Recently, I observed another fun fact about Diane and me--we are both prolific questioners. In many cases, Diane’s questions have helped me clarify my own beliefs. Those are good questions.

Diane’s heart for ministry took a quantum leap forward this past spring.

She and her husband Terry teach a Sunday school class full of the parents of couples with young children—about the age we were when we first met. Bill and I were attending the annual missions conference and Diane and Terry opened their class for us to teach that morning. During the announcements, Terry mentioned that next Sunday he and Diane had a surprise for the class.

If anyone had wondered about what the surprise might be, I bet they never guessed correctly.

In an above-and-beyond picture of marriage, Diane and Terry showed up the next Sunday morning (their 40^th anniversary) in their wedding attire. Diane still fits into her gown! They ordered a wedding cake resplendent with raspberry filling and the cross that adorned their real wedding cake 40 years ago. They brought their pictures. Diane even prepared a brunch for the entire class (no small undertaking); the photographers and videographers recorded the entire morning.

But the best part was Diane and Terry talked through their marriage and what it looked like to commit to for better or for worse; for richer or for poorer; in sickness and in health. Their stories and vulnerability deeply encouraged all those in the class who are much closer to their 10^th anniversaries. I wish we could have been there. I’m sure my eyes would have glistened as I applauded their hearts and their courage.

More than anything, Diane wanted to communicate the faithfulness of God. He has been faithful to she and Terry through the realities on two becoming one. He is also faithful to everyone who was blessed by their testimony that morning.

Our God is also a creative God. I love the way His creativity displays itself in the lives of my friends.

“Oh magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together!” Psalm 34:3

Something about Solitude

Summer is almost here. It ushers in its own unique rhythm. We will play with our GRANDS, camp with good friends, there will be a few ministry trips tucked in, and a big part of this season will be spent at "The Sanctuary" our small cabin in the Colorado mountains where we will recharge and refuel. Summer is the season of sabbath for us. In her post below, Beth Lueders shares how this discipline can start even as a teen and speak of what is truly important. Thank you Beth for letting me share your words.

Perspective is one of those words I’ve thought about having etched on my tombstone. You may not know it, but for most of junior high through college years, I mowed a cemetery on the bluff overlooking my rural Nebraska hometown. On those muggy summer days when I mowed around hundreds of tombstones with both a riding and push mower and then manicured stone markers closely with hand clippers and even by plucking, I learned a thing or two about perspective, perseverance, and perspiration—all part of being resilient. (I still have mild calluses at the base of my fingers from years from squeezing manual grass clippers. Wish I had a Weed Whacker back then!!)
There was something mind-cleansing about cruising along on my mighty mower in the open edges of that cemetery and looking out of the farmlands and my hometown a couple miles in the distance. Summer after summer I could zip along glued to the slightly padded mower seat and work on my tan, all the while refreshing my view of everyday life. Somehow alone, except for the hundreds of early settlers and townsfolk now silent in their graves, I could muddle through my problems (catching the eye of cute guys, understanding algebra, improving my volleyball serve, lining up my new fall wardrobe, helping choreograph swing choir moves . . . and on an on).
Perspective. It’s the ability to look underneath and all around at the people and circumstances of life to see the big picture. Or as one dictionary states, “a view or vista; the ability to perceive things in their actual interrelations and comparative importance.” Like my days on that vista above my hometown, I daily need to pause and refresh my view of what’s truly important and what has eternal value.
I  like what British rabbi Jonathan Sacks says happens when people pause to turn to God throughout the day. “We recover perspective. We inhale a deep breath of eternity.” Recovering our perspective each day makes us more brave and resilient for tomorrow and increases our capacity to exhale the here and now and inhale deep breaths of eternity.