A line from the sermon yesterday has me thinking today:

"Don't let the events in your life define your purpose. Instead, let your God-given purpose define you and how you deal with the events that come your way."

2012 has had a host of terrible events that have impacted all of us...

Political animus poisoning TV, the Internet, blogs, and on and on
Financial crises striking at the core of our security as individuals and a country
Violent weather taking people's homes and lives
Countries pushing each other toward war
Insanity acted out in bombings and shootings
And on and on it goes.

With each new news report, our hearts are pierced. We wonder what has happened to this world, to our own country, to our friends and family that has left us all so...weary. Even hopeless. I have found myself lost in a sense of despair that mankind is hopelessly wicked, and that evil is running rampant as never before...

And yet.

And yet...

God. 

God is. God lives and breathes. God speaks and acts. And He is there, in every pain-filled event, speaking His truth, whispering his peace to our souls. And if I will but listen, my God-given purpose--which is the same as everyone's: to reflect Him in a wounded and weary world--grows stronger. Undergirds me. Brings me the peace that passes understanding so that rather than giving in to the sorrow and anger, I can lift my head and say with absolute conviction...

GOD IS.

He is peace and hope. He is restoration. He is the beginning and the end. He is...

Everything.

And while I cannot change the world, or bring mankind back to sanity, He can. All I need to do is follow Him, step-by-step, and leave the results to the Him. And so, each day, as I hear of new pain or anger or fears, I take them to Him. And I hold fast to the truth that He is at work in every event, every circumstance. And while I may not understand it all, I can rest in His promises and goodness.

And that is the best peace of all. 

It's Our Nature...

I'm heartsick.

A couple of mornings ago as I came to my office I noticed him. He was beautiful. Solid black fur, golden eyes that seemed to contain the knowledge of the ages. I shooed him away because I know what happens if the dogs get to a cat. They killed one last year, and I didn't ever want that to happen again.

Last night I noticed that Dad's shepherd, Kodi,

had scratches on her nose. None of us could figure out where they came from. As I doctored her up, she leaned her chin on my shoulder. I hugged her tight, this gentle, loving dog, and told her to try and stay out of trouble. She gave me a doggie grin and trotted off to follow Dad to bed.

This morning Dad came into the office and called me out to the yard. The look on his face made my heart race. I hurried to follow him, and he pointed to the yard. "Is that a cat?" I turned, and there, lying motionless in the grass, was the black cat.

Suddenly the scratches made terrible sense.

I wanted to hit something. To weep. To rage at the dogs. But even as I turned to Kodi, who was there with the other dogs, Dad stopped me. "It's in their nature, Karen. You can't change that."

He's right, of course. Certain dog breeds are hunters, and any small animal that moves quickly will trigger that instinct. Siberians are notorious cat killers. Shepherds, when not raised with cats, can be as well. But I had such a hard time reconciling that fact with these dogs I know and love. These dogs who are so funny and loving, who like nothing more than to crawl up into my lap (yes, even the 75-lb shepherd) and lean against me, all hugs and cuddles. How could these normally sweet-natured dogs have done this? Yes, I know they're animal, they work on instinct, and dogs are, first and foremost, hunters. Still...

I struggled with these questions as I lifted the cat from the cold, wet grass. I found myself apologizing. Weeping. Overwhelmed with sorrow that such a beautiful creature could be reduced to this... When I stood, I saw Kodi there, watching--and in a flash of anger, I almost did it. I almost kicked her. Hard.

That's when it hit me. It's in our nature, too.

The urge to strike out. To attack. To hurt without thinking. To destroy even something beautiful because, when the baser nature takes over, we don't see things like beauty or innocence. We just react. And in that reaction, heinous acts are committed. Innocence destroyed. Beauty ravaged. Lives shattered. All you have to do is watch the news or read the paper to know that's true.

With dogs, they're operating on instinct. No amount of reasoning can change that. But thank God, for us, it's a different story. The apostle Paul said it better than I ever could:

"I have discovered this principle of life—that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong. I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me [my sinful nature] that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord."

The Message puts Paul's words this way:

"I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.

"I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me?... The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different."

How do we overcome that dark nature within us? How do we keep ourselves from giving in to those urges to strike out, to hurt, to embrace revenge and retaliation when we're wounded and heart sick. We don't. But Jesus Christ can and does. His death on the cross brings us forgiveness, redemption. His resurrection restores us as God's very own. We're cleansed. Set free. Given a new way to live. And here's the best news of all: though we will always, always fail in our efforts to do what's right--that, too, is in our human nature--God's grace is there for us. We have but to ask, and that grace will cleanse us anew. Set us free. Make us blameless in His sight. Because He loves us. Unconditionally.

And that, my friends, is His nature.

Karen

In Troubled Times...

I'm troubled today. My heart aches. Deeply. I want to weep...or rage. My spirit struggles within to rest in God. To hold to His promises of care and provision. But then the sorrow hits again, and I have to stop. Regroup. Wrestle with myself and Him.

What, you may ask, triggered this battle?

A dear friend in trouble. A man of God, whom I've known most of my life, being accused of a heinous act. Falsely accused. And yet, what he's suffered at the hands of our "justice" system tears at me. Gnaws at my gut like tiny dribbles of acid.

This is so wrong.

I want God to show Himself. To bring out the truth. HIS truth. To send avenging angels upon the one who brings such lies to destroy a life devoted to faith and family. I want...

Revenge.

And even as I type that, tears sting. My throat closes.

I am ashamed.

Ashamed of my anger, though in the world's eyes, it's certainly justified. Ashamed of my thirst for this accuser's demise, though again, the world would rise up and applaud if it happened. And as much as I want to cheer on any calamity headed the accuser's way, I know I can't allow myself to do so. Because, you see, I don't belong to the world.

I belong to a Holy God, One who has called me to pray. For my friend. For his family.

And for his accuser.

I will never understand why this has come into this man's life. Why he had to be so wounded, so damaged by unfounded and unjust words. I'll never understand why some heavenly hand didn't reach down and cover him, stopping the disaster before it struck. But my understanding isn't what matters.

My obedience, however, is.

And so even as I sit here, writing this, trying to find some measure of peace, I throw myself on God's mercy. Beg Him for help. For strength. For the desire to respond as He calls, not as the world condones. Amazing, isn't it, how the world's ways appeal in the face of injustice. But true justice, justice that will stand for eternity, will come from God's hand. In His way. In His timing. Until then, we, His children, can only take our petitions to Him. Petitions for ourselves. For those falsely accused.

And for those so wounded that they let lies become truth and pain become weapons.

Please, join me in praying for this situation. Pray for this man. For his family. And for his accuser. Pray for God's will.

For that is all that will save us in whatever we face in this troubled, troubling world.

I leave you with this...

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord:

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him.

For he will rescue you from every trap and protect you from deadly disease.

He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings.

His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,
nor the arrow that flies in the day.
Do not dread the disease that stalks in darkness, nor the disaster that strikes at midday...

If you make the Lord your refuge,
if you make the Most High your shelter,
no evil will conquer you...

For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone...

The Lord says, “I will rescue those who love me. I will protect those who trust in my name. When they call on me, I will answer;

I will be with them in trouble.
I will rescue and honor them.
I will reward them with a long life and give them my salvation.

Psalm 91 selection

May it be so, Lord Jesus.

Karen

Hope LIVES!

It's been a tough couple of weeks. I've been struggling with some deep issues and, quite frankly, they've been kicking my you-know-what. God's sense of irony is so...ironic. I mean, here are the lyrics to a trio I sang in church a week ago or so:

"How long has it been since you woke with the dawn and felt that the day's worth the living..."

Ummm...too long.

The weather lately hasn't helped. Loads of rain. Overcast skies. Gray, gray, gray. Perfect for my mood of late.

Then, this morning, I walked outside while on a phone call to a dear friend whose mother recently died. I was deep in thought, listening to her, thrown back to my own mom's death by my friend's words and pain, when I glanced down--and was met with this sight...



................................................................................and this one...

and this...

Suddenly, it was as though scales fell from my eyes and heart, and delight swept through me. My crocuses are here! Not just here, but blooming!! I looked up, and realized the sky was as clear as a child's smile and blue, blue, blue. And the sun was shining, sending warmth cascading down onto my upturned face.

Spring has come. Oh! Spring has come again! Just when I thought the gray skies wouldn't go away, when I let my heart grow so heavy with all the "stuff" I've been agonizing over, when I was so sure I'd never feel light again, spring snuck in, spread it's arms, and blessed the day with color and fragrance and warmth.

That's just like God. We get all caught up in whatever is dragging us down, tangled in the cords of sorrow or discontent or fear until we're sure we'll drown--and then suddenly realize Someone has reached out and taken hold of us. Not just that, but He's lifting us from the frigid, suffocating depths and setting our feet on the rock-solid ground of His love, peace, and provision.

The struggles aren't over. I know that. But today, for this moment, I'm smiling. Because those little flowers, poking their heads out of what yesterday was cold, dead earth, remind me it's never as bleak as it seems. God is always there, working just beneath the surface, bringing about growth and restoration and rebirth.

May your day be filled with God's surprises...


Karen