Indisputable Visual Evidence

This morning I am thinking about viewing things through the eyes of faith in God’s promises, rather than the judgments and opinions of people.  There was a play during the Sunday Night Football game in which a catch was ruled incomplete.  But the call was challenged.  The game commentators initially agreed with the ruling on the field, convinced that they had seen the ball hit the ground and bounce up into the receiver’s chest.  They went on about how there would have to be “indisputable visual evidence” to justify overturning the call.  After review, the call actually was reversed.  It was ruled that the play had resulted in a catch after all.  As I watched the instant replay, I could see that the ball had indeed, bounced up into the receiver’s chest…right off his hands, which had been underneath the ball!  As I pondered this, I was quickened in my spirit with excitement.  (This often happens when I am in tune to the lessons being presented to me.)  While I don’t consider my life as altogether analogous to a Sunday Night football game would, I can certainly relate that overturned call to my experience in a significant way.  Each day I endeavor to learn, grow, change, and become the person God has designed and purposed me to be.  Attached to my purpose are specific “plays” that are assigned to me—acts of service, of encouragement, of kindness, of leadership, of unconditional love and support to others.  My role in each play is part of a larger, overall game plan designed to bring light, healing, wholeness, freedom, and power to the lives of those who are DESTINED TO WIN.  Up until now, I have certainly had many calls that were not in my favor.  Up until now, I just let some of these adverse calls go.  Perhaps I made a “catch”…established a connection and ministered to someone who was broken and hurting…but I was told that it didn’t count because my foot was over the line of religious tradition.  Or maybe I was running well, but “dropped the ball”…lost my confidence, or my patience, or my temper…so it was determined that every bit of progress gained was nullified because I fumbled.  As it was during the Sunday Night Football game, there have been “commentators” who were quick to pass judgment on me…convinced of my failure to make the play.  BUT, starting now, I am going to exercise my right to challenge such calls against me.  I am going to appeal to the ultimate Field Judge.  I rejoice with confidence, knowing that the “instant replay” is framed by His Word and His faithfulness.  There will be indisputable visual evidence that my foot is never over the line of His grace. And, despite what it looks like, there will be indisputable visual evidence that there is no fumbling as long as I am on my knees.  Game on!

Inside the Fence

This morning I am thinking about the home where I lived as a child growing up.  A chain link fence ran around the perimeter of the yard, encompassing our house in the front as well as my grandmother’s house about ten feet behind.  Inside the yard, there were grassy places and sandy places.  There were coconut trees, mango trees, a cherry tree, and a grapefruit tree.  There was a tetherball pole, a volleyball net, and a basketball goal.  There was also ample space for a game of kickball, dodge ball, football, tag, or hide and seek.  Most days, I was perfectly content and had no trouble finding something interesting and fun to do inside the fence.  This was a good thing because one rule was clear.  My siblings and I were absolutely not supposed to go outside the fence to play.  Moreover, very few children, aside from cousins, were allowed to come inside the fence to play with us.  Kids from the neighborhood would often stand on the other side of our fence, some to talk and others to taunt.  (Our yard was dubbed “Prison Camp Number Thirteen” by one particular smart aleck.)  Every so often, one of the neighborhood kids would ask the question to which everyone already knew the answer.  “Y’all can’t come outside the fence?”  Something about that question seemed to sap the joy right out of me.  I would go from laughter, fun, and happiness to feeling like I was missing out on something.  All of a sudden, I would be convinced that I was somehow being unfairly restricted and hindered.  As I sat and reflected on this today, a truth became so crystal clear to me.  There really was nothing on the outside of the fence except a dirt road.  And, if the dirt road was so great, kids wouldn’t likely have been hanging around outside the fence looking at us.  I couldn’t help but smile as I thought, “Okay, Lord, I get it.”  My mind was enlightened to discern that there is a spiritual fence around my life.  The yard in which I stand isn’t called Prison Camp Number Thirteen.  Rather, it is called “Purpose."  It is called “Destiny."  It is called “the Will of God.”  Too often I have allowed myself to become distracted and disheartened by voices from the other side of the fence, challenging me with the question, “So, do you have to stay in there?”  The honest answer is, “No.  I don’t have to stay in here.”  But, why would I ever want to come out?  One might argue that outside there is freedom, to which I would ask, “Freedom to do what?”  Within my sacred, ordained place of purpose I have everything I need, as well as the desires of my heart.  Outside the fence, there are only dirt roads of emptiness and vanity.  Truth be known, I’ve stepped out there more times than I care to remember.  Inside the yard, there is peace, joy, hope, grace, healing, wisdom, understanding, favor, love, and countless other provisions from my Father.  These are all mine to enjoy freely, along with those to whom my Father has granted access to share in my purpose according to His own wisdom.  I know that I’m really not missing out on anything.  I’m not being unfairly restricted or hindered.  I’m just protected and preserved, because I am precious.  I am content to enjoy my beautiful life inside the fence.    

All Pretty in the Morning

This morning I am thinking about a sweet and wonderful lesson my daughter, Ari, taught me when she was about five years old.  We were at my mom’s beauty salon, and Ari had just gotten her hair shampooed.  She was wearing a plastic cap on her head while the conditioner soaked in.  As I was leaving to make a quick trip to the store across the street, Ari said, “Mommy, I want to go with you.”  I smiled and pointed to the cap on her head to remind her.  With a broad grin, she said, “I don’t care.  I still want to come with you.”  As we walked, she squeezed my hand tightly and said, “Mommy, know why I don’t care about this bag on my head?”  I tried to imagine what she was going to say, but I finally conceded, “I don’t know, Ari.  Why?”  Her big, brown eyes were stretched wide with excitement as she triumphantly declared, “It’s because I know I look funny now, but I’m going to be all pretty in the morning!”  My heart still melts at the power behind the words of her simple, innocent confession.  I realize that I have often chosen to stay hidden away, as it were, until I felt that I was “presentable.”  I can recall the many times I’ve eagerly said, “Lord, I want to walk with You,” only to become more than a little preoccupied with how I might look to other people.  So, I’d chicken out and opt to just stay put right where I was.  But, oh, how I long to have a bold, honest faith confession like that of my dear child!  I have a tendency to be far too idealistic, and people sometimes consider me flighty.  I don’t always do well in social situations, so people sometimes think I’m aloof.  And I really try hard to understand an issue or situation from multiple perspectives without making snap judgments, but sometimes people think I’m just too wishy-washy.  There’s more, but the point is that I know I look funny now.  I take heart, though, as I recognize that this temporary “bag” of inadequacy I am wearing makes it possible for the conditioner of His grace, power, and favor to soak in.  It’s all part of a process.  Fear is giving way to boldness.  Insecurity is giving way to confidence.  Awkwardness is giving way to grace.  Beyond what I appear to be right now, as I walk with Him, I am changing.  Day by day, I am being made whole.  I am being transformed into the woman He has designed and purposed me to be.  Yes, I may look like an absolute hot mess right now, but just keep watching.  I’m going to be all pretty in the morning. 

This Mourning

This morning, I am thinking about my big brother, Andy, who would have turned 57 today.  At about 5 a.m. on July 2nd, I was awakened by a call from the hospital.  The nurse said that he wasn’t doing well; that we should come right away.  My mom rode to the hospital with me, but the car was silent.  When I got to his room, I went to him and held his hand.  I prayed, and I sang to him.  But he lay silent.  Once the doctor confirmed what I already knew was happening, I walked out of the room, down the hall to the elevator, and out the door.  I sat on a bench and looked up at the sky.  I asked, “Will You do a miracle today?”  But the heavens were silent.  When the crowds started to come to the house, I would slip out to get in my car and take a drive.  Most times I would go to his house, where I would walk through the rooms and remember.  I thought about our talks, the many times we prayed, and how we would make each other laugh until we cried.  I climbed in his bed and recalled how one of the last things he’d asked me, while lying there, was if I was in love.  I wished that I could talk to him about it…wished that I could hear his wisdom and loving counsel.  But the house was silent.  For weeks, I found myself starting to dial his number to tell him something funny or something I thought he’d find interesting.  A few times, I let it go to voice mail just to hear him speak.  But I knew in reality that, on the other end of the phone, it was silent.  For weeks, grief held my heart like a vise, wringing out a flow of tears...seemingly endless and silent.  For weeks, I have wondered and questioned:  “When am I going to really feel okay again?”  I seek solace in my solitude, and I strain to hear an answer.  But still, so far, there is only the echo of this mourning.      

Compared to What?

This morning, I am thinking about a commercial I once saw for a particular brand of bleach.  There were two plain, white socks displayed next to each other.  Random passersby were asked to state their opinion as to which sock was whiter.  In each case, the sock deemed whitest had been washed in the bleach product which the commercial intended to promote.  I always wondered, though, if there were individuals who had actually selected the “other” sock, but their opinions had been edited out.  I also wondered what the results might have been if the “other” sock had been compared to yet another sock.  I guess maybe I totally overanalyzed the commercial, but I was struck by something in its composition.  As with other kinds of advertisements, the commercial was carefully scripted to elicit a clear, strong, and favorable response to its product.  It was also set up to make something else, by comparison, appear less favorable.  As I pondered this today, I was convicted about my own complicity in the subjective and deceptive practice of comparing.  I began to reflect on how and why I try to measure myself and my circumstances to the conditions and experiences of others.  Sometimes I judge myself as better or worse, stronger or weaker.  I realize that when I engage in such thinking, I am being manipulated by a powerful script...one that keeps my heart and mind tied to the mediocre in an incessant “win some, lose some” game.  As I prayed, it occurred to me that when I compare myself to others, I am always looking to an imperfect standard.  God’s purposes for me are magnificent, far exceeding the standards imposed upon me by others or even by myself.  Right now, I choose to follow His script in which I am always strong, victorious, beautiful, blessed and highly favored.  Compared to what?  Compared to who and what I would be without Him.  Amen.    

Worth Losing Sleep Over

This morning I am thinking about my precious time for prayer and meditation each morning.  Sometimes when I awake, I find that I am tethered to a big sack of drowsiness that is filled with an assortment of things.  Unresolved issues from the day before.  Inadequate rest from staying up too late or waking up too often.  Thoughts about the day ahead.  Challenges I don’t want to face.  Pain I wish I could forget.  Sometimes I just want to lie there and surrender to the alluring call of more sleep.  Yet, from deep within my soul I also hear another call.  In the silence and stillness of the early morning, Someone waits for me.  Just turning my thoughts toward Him brings a shift.  My spirit is quickened.  A medley of praise, adoration, and thanksgiving may erupt from my lips.  I may confide in Him my hopes and desires or ask for His wisdom and direction.  Or I may just pour out my heart in tears.  But it’s really not what I do that matters.  It’s what He does.  Each morning, He faithfully invites me to lay down my sack of drowsiness… along with every other burden and care…at His feet.  He speaks to me about His purpose and calling.  He reminds me that His plans for me are good.  He gives me insight and understanding.  He comforts, encourages, and reassures me that I never really lose when I walk in Love.  He strengthens and equips me with the “daily bread” of His grace, mercy, and provision.  When I move forward in faith to start my day, I don’t ever regret the time spent in His presence.  I know that catching a few more winks is no comparison.  Taking the time to seek Him, no matter how early, is definitely worth losing sleep over.

Pass Interference

This morning I am thinking about defensive pass interference.  I can’t recall an NFL game I’ve watched in which there wasn’t at least one call for this.  A quarterback throws the ball…straight, intentional, perfect.  But, then, a player on the defense pulls, blocks, hooks, or shoves an offensive player in order to keep him from receiving the intended pass.  There may be disappointment or outrage from players, coaches, and fans alike.  However, there is some consolation in knowing that the penalty for a pass interference call is an automatic first down from the spot of the foul.  In other words, there is a full, fresh new opportunity to try again.  In thinking about this, I was reminded of some scriptures I had not read in a while.  I flipped open my Bible to Daniel 10:1.  There I reread the account of Daniel’s prayer, to which the answer was immediately sent.  However, there was interference that impeded the answer from getting through.  In verses 2 and 3 I saw Daniel going deep, positioning himself to receive.  In verse 12 I saw where the “ball,” (that is, the answer to Daniel’s prayer) had been thrown to him.  In verse 13 I saw the pass interference.  And in verse 14, I saw a fresh set of downs being given.  How it blesses and encourages me to know that, like Daniel, God hears the sincere prayers of my heart!  He sees when I am positioning myself to receive.  And He answers, though sometimes it seems as though He has not heard.  When He sends the answer, there is no opponent—including my own pride, ignorance, and other imperfections—that can legitimately hinder me from receiving.  Sometimes I am disappointed, frustrated or discouraged when I discern that an answer to prayer has been thwarted by spiritual pass interference.  Yet, I have this consolation.  At the very spot where I may have dropped the ball, the grace of God gives me a new start…a chance to try again.  I thank God today for my fresh set of downs.