Give Me Truth!

Two teenagers assaulted the airwaves in my space at camp with a noisy, somewhat amiable but very intense argument. They were both talking quickly and loudly and my first thought was “Don't you guys have anything better to do with my free time than this?”

The debate went on and increased in volume until the guy cried out “Miz Woodall tell her “. . . . .” I was formulating an answer based on my need to get back to my agenda when the Spirit reminded me of an occasion years before when I was teaching in a public High School and so I gave in, held up my hand and said “Whoah! Tell me some truth!”

He replied “She said . . . . . . . . . . . . . and she even accused me of not being a Christian.” The girl started in. I winked at her and held up my hand.

“But I want to hear truth. Lay some truth on me, bro.”

He slowed down and began repeating the argument only slightly less loud and intense than before. I spoke again; “But those are only the facts. I want you to tell me some truth.”

He looked stumped almost insulted. “She did. She said I wasn't a Christian.”

“Tell me truth?”

“I am,” he stated with a defensive look at her.

“So give me truth.” I insisted.

After a few more interchanges, the young man told about putting his faith in Jesus to save him. It had happened on those very grounds a couple years earlier. “And?”

“Well Jesus changed my whole life.” “And?” “NOBODY has a right to say I'm not a Christian.” “Because?” “Because my faith is in Jesus.”

“Does what another person have to say change that at all?”

“No.”

“If she doesn't see things like you do, does it change that day or this?”

“No!”

“So your relationship to Jesus is based on . . .?”

The young man presented a very good rendition of the 'good news of the gospel'. He was no longer yelling. She was quiet and beginning to smile and nod as he spoke.

When he finished I turned to her. “Lay some truth on me, girlfriend.”

She told me about being saved and how it affected so many things in her life. He listened respectfully and nodded as she spoke.

The conflict was resolved in going back to the beginnings, by concentrating on what grace did for each. As far as I know we didn't address the original argument at all, but it seemed not to matter as they walked away to join other young people in a creative piece of fun.

I get pretty sidetracked by the words and actions of other Christians. When I pick it apart, I'm convinced it just isn't right behavior in a body that should be redeemed by and for Christ: you know hypocrisy, self-righteousness, snobbery, bickering, fault finding. I know some of you are rolling your eyes and some are saying “Right on!” and some may even be saying “Pull the beam out of your own eye, Donna.”

While preparing to go to 'church', I got in that mind frame. God told me to stop and sit down. He had questions for me to answer. I had arguments, -people's opinions, judgment, and misunderstanding, don't forsake the assembling, my own love for good worship and teaching, but in the end I opted to spend time listening to God.

I started out reading my Bible where I had been reading yesterday. Then I wrote down things that were bothering me and keeping me agitated of late. My mind played out offenses; I knew they were just facts. God said “Give me some truth, Donna.”

My standing with God doesn't depend on what you think or what you've done. My relationship to the Father doesn't even depend on what I've done or thought. It depends solely on the grace of God offered freely to one who said “Yes” to the call of God based on the righteousness and sacrifice of Jesus.

By the same token, my opinion of you doesn't change your relationship to the Father. I may complain and fume at what you've done or said, but God just stands by and says “Give me some truth.” If your answer includes faith in the sacrifice of Jesus, that's good enough.

I'm not saying there are no problems or that the body of Christ has no responsibility to behave itself. But I'm becoming convinced that the further we wander from the grace of God and the love of Christ, the less effective we become and the more problems we exhibit. God has been teaching me. I'm learning -sometimes slowly.

Grace, peace, blessing. 

You're Beautiful

I see Your face in every sunrise

The colors of the morning are inside Your eyes

The world awakens in the light of the day

I look up to the sky and say,

'You're beautiful'

(Written by Phil Wickham)

I woke early this morning, did all the stumble in morning stuff and put my phone on the charger as it was at 6%. I started to sit down and rest until my alarm went off, but though I had worked until about midnight 30, I wasn't really tired or sleepy at 5:15. So I did some picking up and a bit of cleaning -only a bit- in the sunroom before I saw the early maroon and orange gracing the eastern horizon.

Dawn is my favorite!- not the dish soap, the time of day. My buddy was ready to go out with me into the early twilight of the pre-dawn. I laughed at his antics as it's been some time since we've been out together at the birth of day. He's a pup at dawn, without restraint or reason, just a joyful pup. Perhaps he caught it from his owner. The air was sweet and light. Slight breezes turned off and on and little wisps of cloud played with the horizon and the moon which was still bright.

Watching the eastern horizon develop, I busied myself cutting wisteria tendrils and picking up the deck. I dispersed what rainwater was still around to the flowers and herbs there. A lone mocking bird cried to the coming sun. The other birds were probably saying “Hey, friend, keep it down. Nobody should be that loud before the sun gets up.” But not me. I relished his song as I relished the increasing color in the east. Normally I have a camera in hand, or my phone, and I busy myself documenting the event. But today, my hands and mind sought other business. I left those behind on purpose today. I wanted to see with the heart instead. I wanted to experience the moment instead of recording it.

I spied a tube of bubbles left on the deck the last time my grandson was there and picked it up with the abandon and joy of a child. As I blew the first string of bubbles from the wand, the breeze caught them and lifted them high above the yard below and into the trees. A few made it all the way past the trees until they were barely visible before they dried out enough to pop without touching anything. I walked up to the observation deck and blew the bubbles off the bridge and deck. The colors were amazing as the dawn reflected in the floating soap. The light of the moon mixed through a couple of larger ones. It was exhilarating. I began experimenting.

The warm air coming off the pool held the larger bubbles in suspension for a moment or two. It actually lifted some of the smaller ones back skyward until they floated away into the lower yard. When they reached the pool water, instead of breaking, they actually bounced across the surface a few times before they popped. I was fascinated. The trees and Arvest tower reflected in their swirling color and I could sometimes even see my own form and face.

I climbed to the top of the lighthouse thinking I could watch them drift across the hill and downward. The dynamics were different there, however and the bulk of them floated into the trees and broke fairly quickly. But I stood there surveying my little world with a nice breeze on my face. The color in the east was almost golden now.

I hurried back down to the pool deck to experience the play of the bubbles with the warmth of the water. I was a child calling out to my Father: “I see your face in every sunrise; the colors of the morning are within your eyes. . . . . . . Oh, you're beautiful.” Jesus said “Let the little children come to me.” and “Except you come like a little child comes. . . .” I felt that this morning. I believe the Father put the bubble wand in my hand and I think he enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his this morning.

Saved Instead

When Katherine was not quite 3 years old, I gave birth to my 3^rd daughter. During the process, I lost a lot of blood and was quite unsteady on my feet for a time. Since I was not able to drive yet, the whole family went to my check-up a week after the birth and then to the Pharmacy for a prescription that I needed to strengthen me.

While in the store, my second daughter took her diaper off and her father grabbed her up and flew out the door and across the street to the car parked on the other side. Before the door closed, Katherine got through it and started after her father. I was carrying a new born (long before car seats) and unsteady, but I rushed as quickly as I could to the door and cried out to my small daughter to “Stop!” “Come back!” “Come back!”

As I approached the sidewalk, I saw the eighteen wheeler coming down the main street of the small town. There were no stop lights in that town and it was moving quite quickly toward my small child. Frantically I screamed “Come back here now!” Something in the tone of my voice caused her to respond against her own will to catch up with her daddy and sister. She turned and took one small step before the truck bumper hit her and threw her into the sidewalk at my feet.

Passers by hailed a police car and the officer put my bleeding child with a baby blanket on her head into his cruiser and I got in and we drove back to the hospital/clinic where she was rushed into a clean sterile room. She held onto me and I tried to comfort her.

A nurse had taken my baby and I followed the gurney with my little treasure into a room where the doctor started working with her immediately. In response to her pleading, I promised I would stay with her. She was so brave, so still. Other than that first cry when she was hit she had been quiet until the doctor began. He looked up and said “Are you okay?”

I told him I'd be fine. “Just take care of my little girl.”

He turned to the nurse and said, “She needs to go lay down.” I argued that I would be fine; Katherine began to wail. In the end, the nurse escorted me to a room with a bed and assured me that the doctor would take good care of my little one. Then she parked a nursery bed beside my bed and they laid my new born there close to me. The world went black and when I woke, the doctor came in and talked to me about the head injury.

As it was, I was in a good place and all three of us were well cared for. Katherine was doing fine. She had a concussion and several stitches up the back of her head. They would keep her there for observation. He assured me that someone big was looking out for us.

The police came in and informed me that the truck driver had been stopped on his way out of town. He didn't even know he'd hit her and was very shaken by the news. They asked a few simple questions and declared it an accident. The man's insurance would take care of the cost. They again told me how fortunate I was. If she had not turned and stepped back toward me, it would have been disastrous.

When they finally decided I was physically stable enough, they let me look in on my daughter before sending me and the rest of the family home. I walked in and touched her little face. Her eyes had blackened and her face had a few minor abrasions. I caught my breath at the sight. She peered at me through the injury and asked soflty “Mama, why did you hit me?” I was dumbfounded.

Of course, I corrected her understanding of what happened. She was fascinated by the fact that she had been hit by a truck and lived. I guess I had overplayed that as we lived around a lot of traffic.

It occurs to me that sometimes I cry to God about my pain and circumstance; I assume he has somehow dealt the blow. Yet it may just be that instead, he saved my life.

Precious

4 deaths! Four godly people each gone in a moment. I found it very frustrating. My belief is that God is the author of life, not death. So after brooding for a time, which is my sad human nature, I asked God straight out, “Why did we have to lose such faithful friends, such diligent servants with not even a chance to pray for them.”

God was not slow about answering from my stack of childhood memory verses. “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” Psalm 116:15

At first I did not accept that as an answer. But if there is one thing I've learned about God in the past 6 months -and 50 years, it is that God is never offended by the hard questions when asked by a seeking heart. The problem is, we sometimes don't even know the question, let alone the answer.

I read the whole Psalm that day. It reminds us of God's care and faithfulness toward his own, of his tenderness and care from the day we are conceived until the day of our death. It admits that we don't always recon him as tender and caring, but he loves us and is patient.

Another thought I had never entertained is that it is precious in his sight. God never loses sight of his beloved whether at birth, at rebirth, during trials of our faith, during growing pains, during death, God is always watching and caring. I recall going on outings in the mountains with my next door neighbors. They had a very large family and 'their mom' dressed them all in the same color and or print. She didn't have to look hard to see her brood and know if they were just fine or if attention was required. The Father has marked us as his own. He sees where we are and knows our predicament. He was neither surprised nor casual with the death of his servants.

Also I saw that God is not just watching indifferently at the progress and moments of our lives. Our birth, rebirth, trials, joys and death are all precious to him. They don't pass by haphazardly or unattended. He is waiting for us at each turn including death. Like earthly parents, he's there to share in the joy, the growth, the pain and passing from one reality to the next. He didn't miss my kindergarten graduation, my wedding, my father's death or the death of my friends. He will be with me when I step through the threshold into his full presence.

“I serve you as my mother did; you have freed me from my chains. I will sacrifice a thank offering and call on the name of the Lord.” My mother was an example to other believers as was my father. They trained me to behave myself and to consider what was done in the public eye as well as in private. Yet God goes further: he frees us from the chains. We are no longer chained to sin and guilt. We are not chained to fear and rejection. We are not chained to earthly thinking.

There are no chains in death for the believer. Because he sacrificed his Son, we are free to live life as his precious children. Our behavior and gratitude comes out of his goodness. He offers and we accept the cup of salvation for this moment on. Praise the LORD. He's a good, good father. It's who he is.