A Disciple's Prayer

This morning, at 6:15 Ron and I woke up to resounding and spectacular thunder. The windows shook from the boisterous display and we simply listened as the show continued. Finally Ron said, "Man, that was impressive." I replied, "It was the trumpet call of God. It's Rosh Hashanah."

Christ has not returned quite yet. But just for me, this lone woman in Eastern Tennessee, God gave a preview of a glorious day that's coming. How can you not sit back in awe and revel in the goodness and extravagance of Jehovah?

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Here's a prayer from the Divine Hours (which the author, Phyllis Tickle, took from the Book of Common Prayer):

"O Lord, my God, to You and Your service I devote myself, body, soul and spirit. Fill my memory with the record of Your mighty works; enlighten my understanding with the light of Your Holy Spirit; and may all the desires of my heart and will center in what You would have me do. Make me an instrument of Your salvation for the people entrusted to my care, and let me by my life and speaking set forth Your true and living Word. Be always with me in carrying out the duties of my vocation; in praises heighten my love and gratitude; in speaking of You give me readiness of thought and expression; and grant that, by the clearness and brightness of Your holy Word, all the world may be drawn to Your blessed kingdom. All this I ask for the sake of Your Son my Savior Jesus Christ. Amen."

This is the prayer of a true disciple. May it be mine.

Rosh Hashanah

Tomorrow is the Jewish holiday Rosh Hashanah. Actually, because the Jewish day begins at sunset the night before, it starts this evening.

Those of you who know me well, know that I have a passion for the Biblical feasts and festivals. Rosh Hashanah is one of my favorites (along with Passover, Pentacost, Yom Kippur...oh well).

Rosh Hashanah marks the beginning of the Jewish New Year (the legal one as opposed to the religious one). It is called the "Day of the Blowing of the Shofar," the Feast of Trumpets. It begins the Days of Awe...the 10 days leading up to Yom Kippur (which is the holiest of the Jewish holidays, the Day of Atonement).

There is a reason this is one of my favorites. If you study the New Testament in light of the Biblical festivals, you see Jesus as the fulfillment of them. He was sacrificed at Passover, He rose again on the Feast of Early Firstfruits, His church was established on Pentacost (the Feast of Weeks or the Feast of Latter Firstfruits).

Paul speaks to us in I Cor. 15:20-23:

"But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in his own turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when He comes, those who belong to Him."

If you follow the religious year, Passover is the first festival. The Feast of Early Firsfruits and Pentacost come next. All three, as we have already discussed have huge New Testament significance. That means that the next one in Messianic fulfillment that has not yet come to fruition, would be the Feast of Trumpets. Following very shortly after that will be the Day of Judgement (or Day of Atonement).

In I Thess. 4:13-18, Paul talks about the second coming of Christ. He says that Christ will come down with the trumpet call of God. Beth Moore, in one of her studies, says that she believes Christ will come on a a bright Jerusalem morning on Rosh Hashanah. Whether or not this will be the case, this holiday fills me with longing for the return of my King.

My life here is good. This is a good day, and I will rejoice and be glad in it. But there's a better day coming. Maybe it will be tomorrow.

Scattered Thoughts

My first thought as I stepped outside for my morning walk was, "Lord, You have blessed me beyond anything that I deserve or have a right to expect." I love where I live. We are in a little neighborhood, but it's kind of out in the country. It's only 8 minutes away from Ron's work, but the drive is beautiful, especially with the fall colors revealing themselves more each day. I have neighbors that very occasionally I'll see as I walk, but usually it's me, a glorious panorama, and a few animals. There's a valley that slips into view on the other side of a tree line. A grassy path has butterflies flitting along, despite the chilly morning air. If I get up early enough, I watch the sun rise over the eastern horizon, filling the sky with muted pinks and golds.

As I walk, my thoughts and words ramble. I'll be in the middle of a request to God, and catch sight of that valley framed by the turning trees. Immediately I'm reminded that the very creation declare the handiwork of its Maker, and I too am awed into praise. Then my thoughts go to, "Where was I? Oh yeah. Lord please walk with Ron this day...."

As I came to the end of our housing area today, I walked up a little rise that leads to the main road. I glanced across the street, and staring at me was this huge white horse, behind a fence. He watched me the whole approach, with eyes that seemed to hold the mysteries of time. I stared at him, thinking how odd this horse was. The field he stood in, reminded me of the passage in Matthew about the lilies of the field, how they neither toil nor spin, but even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. I saw no lilies, only this white horse. He wasn't doing too much toiling either, and he certainly was glorious. He watched me until I turned around. When I glance back, he had left, meandering to the other side the field.

I thought back to what I had been praying over before I saw this creature, sustained and cared for by a God who knows the number of hairs on his head as well as mine.

My furniture.

We have not yet received the bulk of our household goods. This week I finally was able to track them down. It will be November 20 before we get them.

Here's the thing though. God's hand is in the big things. God's hand is in the little things. Four years ago we moved to Germany from Hawaii. We were told that we would have a small house, and we needed to leave some of ours things in storage (that turned out not be be the case...we had lots of room). Our big screen TV was one of those things. That stuff has been delivered to us, and at least we have a TV. There were also 2 inflatable camping beds in that shipment.

When we left Germany for the 6 months we were in California, my sister asked me to bring any nice dishes that I had. I did, with some of my pots and pans. As it turned out, we really didn't need any of them, since our living situation changed while we were there. She also suggested we bring the bunkbeds for the boys and the computer. I have those things here with us now.

A friend of ours in California was helping her mom move to a smaller house. They had a double bed that they were getting rid of. I had planned to buy a new bed for Chad when we got back to the states, so I jumped at the chance to get this one. Ron and I now sleep on that, until our other furniture gets here.

My aunt, months ago, asked any of us if we wanted some antique bedroom furniture that has been in our family for about 100 years. I'm a sucker for antiques and for connections to my own past. So in August, the Army moved that stuff here to Tennessee for us.

Our house is sparsely furnished. We have no dining room table, so we eat around the bar, standing up. We have folding chairs and camp chairs that we sit on to watch TV, read, or use the computer. The computer actually sits on top of the two boxes it came in.

I don't want to buy anything. I have plenty of stuff coming, more than I have room for actually.

I have a roof over my head. I have food on my table...I mean bar, countertop, whatever you want to call it. I even have some luxuries, like the computer and the TV.

So while I asked God to intervene in the shipping of our household goods, I was reminded by a wise old horse, that He has already taken care of me in ways I'm failing to appreciate or even notice. Furthermore, I've been trying to pursue a simplified lifestyle; God, I believe is trying to help me with that one as well.

This new friend of mine, the horse across the way, has a new name. I call him Lily. May he remind me to appreciate not only the visible beauty of God's creation that so abundantly surrounds me, but also His ceaseless and untiring work in my own life.

My Father's Business

I got a late start on my blog today. I've developed a routine, and this morning it was adjusted just a little.

I walk in the mornings. It's a time for me to get some exercise, but it's also the time when I can have moments alone with God. Watching the sun come over the horizon as you praise the One who created it, is a phenomenal thing.

Every morning I talk and talk and talk. When I finally wind down, then I try to be still and let God say a few things. My blogs often come from this morning time...the things God lays on my heart are often the things I write about.

Today, I kept drawing a blank. I prayed for some kind of direction, a word that I could share with someone who might read my blog, or a look at my own heart to see what needed correcting. As I walked I still had nothing.

I thought about a friend and the struggles she is going through, and I thought to myself, "I could write about that. She's an amazing person, and her strength would be an encouragement to others." Then I realized that I hadn't even written to her in a while and I wasn't sure what was going on in her life right now. So instead of blogging about her, I wrote to her.

Then there was an older couple in my neighborhood that I started thinking about. My boys were helping them move (they were moving from across the street to their new house which is right next door to ours). I noticed them as I walked by and thought, "It's amazing how strong teenage boys can be." I was grateful that my kids were able to help. I realized, however, that I'd really done nothing. I'm not so good at the heavy lifting, but that doesn't mean there's nothing I can do. So my morning plans changed.

I had walked along asking God for direction. In my simple mind, I assumed the answer would be in the narrow context in which I had asked. Instead, He gave me a new list.

In the end though, He did help me with my blog.

Who Am I?

Who am I and why do I do the things that I do? Why do I get up every Sunday morning, putting on nicer clothes than usual to sit in a folding chair surrounded by hundreds of other people, most of whom I don't know yet? Why do I refrain from cussing or getting drunk or viewing internet porn? Why do I contribute money or time to things that I think are good causes? Is it because that's what good Christians do? Is it because that's what "the churched" do?

I read an thought provoking blog the other day (http://www.jesustheradicalpastor.blogspot.com/). Here's a quote from John Frye:

"I wonder if what many of us call "transformation" is nothing more than socially-driven behavioral modification, that is, we're conditioned by the "churched life" to live a certain way and, thus, to unwittingly become numb to the radical Spirit's mission to overhaul everything about us as the Spirit compels us to follow that radical pastor named Jesus."

So again I ask, who am I? Not who I'm supposed to be, or who I have the potential to be, or who Christ died so that I could be. But as I walk this journey out, who do my actions and attitudes reveal me to be?

Here are some things I know (and not just because I "feel" it in my heart, but because God Himself has told me so through His Word):

I am His beloved
I am the apple of His eye
He delights in me
I am the daughter of the King

I am also a sinner
Who
At times has grieved the Holy Spirit

In spite of that
I have a whole cloud of witnesses cheering me on as I walk this out
Encouraging me to never give up
To finish strong.

I am, along with you all, the Church. As I make this commitment to the One who claimed to be God, proving it on a Sunday morning long long ago, I ask you to commit with me:

Christ alone is the source of divine life. May I be authentic as I learn and grow and serve with that body He has died to redeem. May I love Him, His Church and the lost with a passion that increasingly mirrors His own.