Blessed be Your Name

The worship leader at church last Sunday was talking about the songs he'd like to have sung at his funeral. That, of course, sent my mind on a quest of just what music I'd want at mine.

"Blessed Be Your Name" by Matt Redman made the top of the list.
It was the closing song at the funeral I attended yesterday.

"Blessed be Your Name, on the road marked with suffering
When there's pain in the offering--blessed be Your Name."

I could almost see Jerry smiling, free from the cancer that had ravaged his body for 3 years, as he watched his family bless the Lord even in the throes of fresh grief.

Job, the man reknowned for his great patience, actually uttered those words long before Matt Redman put them into song. His whole prayer, offered up after he discovered he'd lost everything--from his livestock to every one of his 10 children-- went like this:

"Naked I came from my mother's womb and naked I shall return there. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Job 1:21

Job worshipped the Lord in the face of devastating loss. In my younger days, I couldn't understand this. I would have kicked and screamed and questioned and generally thrown a hissy fit if such terrible things had befallen me.

Twenty-three years ago today, however, I had a Job-moment. While being extricated from our crushed car by the Jaws of Life, a prayer rose up from the depths of my soul--from a place I didn't even know existed until then. As I watched the paramedics remove my son's lifeless body from under the dashboard, the prayer formed silently in my heart. As excrutiating pain ripped through my body while I was pried out of the mangled remains of our Oldsmobile, the prayer became audible.

Just barely, but loud enough to cause the paramedics working on me to stare at me in disbelief.

"Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him . . . though He slay me, yet I will trust Him . . ."

My mind and my body were in shock, for sure. But His spirit within me had never been stronger, reaching up from the depths of my pain and grief to grab hold of the Good Shepherd's hand. And He walked me, slowly and patiently, though that Valley of the Shadow of Death.

It was--and still is--a long and heart-breaking road. But along the way, He's taught me to worship like Job did.

"You give and take away, You give and take away
My heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be Your Name!"

fur follies

I love a good treasure hunt.

Whether I'm digging through dusty boxes in someone's garage or poking around cluttered shelves in a thrift store, I'm sure I'll find something of value if I search long and hard enough.

I've hit the jackpot a few times. Once I found a milk glass cake plate, still wrapped in ancient newspaper, in an undisturbed box at an estate sale. I paid $3 for it. When I got home, I did a bit of research on the Net and found the very same cake plate selling for $120!

My husband sees things a bit differently. To him, the treasures I drag home quickly devolve into junk which trashes his garage. Greg probably had an ulterior motive when he bought me the Miata, thinking it would limit my second-hand shopping sprees.

You'd be surprised how much you can fit in a sports car--especially with the top down! I've fit chairs, end tables, a kitchen sink and even a dresser in my little red car. It's awesome!

My latest, greatest find, however, could have ended up a felony if I hadn't done my homework. I came across a leopard skin jacket at a yard sale just down the street. At first I thought the price tag read $250, which I supposed was a fair price for genuine leopard fur. When I inquired, the seller informed me it was only $2.50.

"It was Aunt Clara's," she explained. "I just want it out of my house."

"I'll take it," I told her, happy to rehome the old cat.

After I got my smelly prize home (Aunt Clara was obviously a smoker), I got on the internet, anxious to see what leopard fur was going for on EBay. To my surprise, there wasn't a single leopard skin item for sale!

Further research revealed the reason: Selling any item made from endangered species is illegal, punishable by a $100,000 fine or five years in prison. My dreams of being able to fund our retirement with proceeds from the coat suddenly went up in very stale smoke.

Ah well, you win some, you lose some. And Greg won't have to worry about the jacket cluttering up the garage for long. It will definitely be the most fashionable gift at this year's white elephant gift exchange . . .

sleep deprived

Sleep is the kind of thing you take for granted until you find yourself wide awake at 2 a.m.--for the 5th night in a row. Listening to your husband contentedly snore while your brain is doing the rhumba can make a good night's sleep seem precious beyond compare.

You'll do just about anything to capture those elusive 40 winks.

And I've done it all, believe me. I've gone the natural route:
valerian (makes my heart race), melatonin (does nothing), chamomille tea (makes me sleepy, but then I have to go pee all night long).

I tried bio-identical hormones, which worked nicely for a few months. But then I started waking up once again in the wee hours. And staying awake.

I've used relaxation techniques, tried hot baths, white noise, reading scriptures before falling asleep. And I'm usually able to doze off without much difficulty. I just wake up four hours later, roused by some sadistic inner alarm clock. I may or may not snooze for a few hours right around dawn. But either way, it doesn't make for a very alert or productive person the rest of the day.

And, as much as I hate to admit it, I've tried sleeping pills. I don't do well with most medications--I can have pretty interesting allergic reactions--but, hey, I'm desperate. And I finally found one sleep drug that seemed to work really well with few noticeable side effects.

To be on the safe side, however, I decided to google this particular pharmaceutical to learn more about it's long term effects. And I found out WAY more than I really wanted to know.

Side effects include: sleep walking, buying unnecessary items, sleep driving, nightmares, multiple personalities, amnesia, hallucinations, severe head swelling and wandering around your backyard eating oatmeal cookies in the nude.

I am not kidding. These are all actual reactions to Ambien, one of the most widely prescribed sleeping pills.

Greg says he hasn't noticed any of these behaviors yet (although he thinks the naked cookie-eating thing might be kind of fun).

But he's asleep all night, so what does he know? I could end up swimming with the possums!

So, I'm back to the sleepless drawing board. If you have any suggestions for me, feel free to comment.

And pray for me. When you are struggling with insomnia, you realize what a gift from God sleep really is!

He gives His beloved sleep . . . . Psalm 127:2

I couldn't have said it better myself . .

When we learn to wait for our Lord's lead in everything, we shall know the strength that finds its climax in an even, steady walk. Many of us are lacking in the strength we so covet. But God gives full power for every task He appoints.

Waiting, holding oneself true to His lead--this is the secret of strength. And anything that falls out of the line of obedience is a waste of time and strength. Watch for His leading.--S. D. Gordon

From Streams in the Desert devotional

the tale of the weak-kneed worship leader

long ago in a place not so very far away, Greg was hired to pastor a small church. It was so small that it didn't have a worship leader and the worship team kind of needed one. Responding to that need, my husband and the elders got together and prayed.

God told them, apparently, that I was supposed to be the worship leader. At least until someone better came along.

I protested that God hadn't told me any such thing, but they didn't listen.

Now I can sing and play guitar, but I'm pretty mediocre at best. And when I stand in front of a microphone, my vocal chords shut down and my fingers become dyslexic.

Unfortunately, being a worship leader involved direct contact with a microphone. And, it involved leading a team of very independent--dare I say cocky?-- musicians who were all much more talented than me.

And they knew it.

Two of them, bless their hearts, offered me encouragement and tried to follow my lead. The other two either ignored me or were outright cantankerous. I came home from our first worship practice together with what little confidence I had smashed to smithereens.

When Sunday morning arrived, I drove to church with a sense of impending doom. I knew that I would embarass myself, the worship team, my husband . . . and most of all, God. How could I call my pitiful offering worship?

I was having a meltdown in Greg's office when Todd walked in. He asked how I was doing.

"I can't do this," I sniffed. "I'm not good enough. Being in front of people terrifies me."

"Believe it or not, I know how you feel," he assured me. "I am dyslexic and have alwyas struggled with learning disabilities. 'Stupid' and 'loser' were terms I heard frequently as a kid."

"Really?" I responded, surprised to hear this. From what I could see, Todd was a successful businessman with a really nice house and a cool family.

"Yep," he said. "I learned long ago not to rely on my own abilities--which really don't amount to a hill of beans--and rely on God's strength. One of my favorite verses is Philippians 4:13--I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. If God has asked you to do this, He will help you. Trust me, I know."

Todd prayed--speaking that verse over me--and I was strangely comforted. Still terrified, but willing to walk out on that stage and just worship the Lord with all my heart. I didn't care quite as much if my voice squeaked or I played the wrong chord. I was doing this out of obedience, for His glory, so the results were up to HIm.

And guess what? After the intro to the first song, I shut my eyes and worshiped with all my heart. And when I finally looked out at the congregation, I was shocked to see that they were worshiping, too. My voice was surprisingly strong and steady and I actually played all the right chords. Most of them, anyway. I felt His peace and pleasure as I offered everything up to Him. And I think the whole church felt His presence, too.

There was not doubt in my mind that something supernatural had taken place. And God met me every Sunday, anointing me to sing and play way beyond my natural ability. And He allowed me the great privilege of leading others into His presence. It was so awesome to actually experience the power of God working through my weakness.

The Lord eventually raised up another worship leader and I stepped aside with great relief. But I still look back on those days with a bit of wonder.

"I will glory in my weakness, for then the power of Christ rests on me . . ."

foolish things

Weakness is difficult to embrace. Especially in our power-hungry culture. In America--and in the western church--we celebrate strength, skill, health and prosperity. Brokeness is an embarassment and weakness is not tolerated.

But the Bible is filled with verses about being weak, broken, and poor. And, according to God's perspective, these are desirable traits!

Check this out:

"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are--so that no one may boast before him." I Cor. 1:26-29

If God chooses the weak, lowly and foolish then I'm on the right team!

Did you catch His reason for choosing the world's rejects: "that no one may boast before him."

Hmmm, reminds me of another verse. You've seen it--the one in my profile. "I will glory--boast--in my weakness, for then the power of Christ rests on me."

Paul gets it. He's not boasting about his strengths. He's bragging about his weakness! He's learned--the hard way, I'm sure--that we can only move in His power when we acknowledge how utterly impotent we are.

I'm just a storyteller at heart, not a theologian, but I can tell you that this verse illustrates the story of my life. When I stop relying on my own resources (which are pitifully few)and look to the Lord for His provision, the fruit is always good and all the glory goes to Him.

And that's something this foolish heart can boast about!

weakness

I used to think, back when I first gave my broken life to Jesus, that He would fix me. That He would make me strong so I could do great things for Him.

No one ever told me that I would continually become weaker, relying less and less upon my own strengths and abilities. Depending more and more upon Him.

All of God's servants throughout the Bible are fraught with weaknesses. Moses stuttered and struggled with anger, David succumbed to lust and turned to murder and deception to cover up his sin. Peter vacillated between fear and impudence and Paul battled physical ailments.

Why didn't God choose more worthy men? Why doesn't he make me braver/smarter/healthier?

Francis Frangipane writes:

Why is the Lord so attracted to the lowly? He knows the weaker His servant,
the more genuinely he will give glory to God. The fact is, the Lord seeks those who know their flaws. Paul testifies that
"God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are
strong. . .the things that are not, that He might nullify the things that
are, so that no man may boast before God" (1 Cor. 1:27-29).

"That no man may boast before God." Our weaknesses are an asset. God has
chosen you, not because of your strength, but because you are weak. I am not
talking about our sinfulness, but our weaknesses and lack of pedigree. Do
not excuse yourself from God's calling because you think you are a
"nothing." You are making progress, passing everyone who thinks they are
something when they are nothing.

Before God, we are all nothing, and we can do nothing of lasting value apart
from Him. It is in our lowliness that God's glory rises to its greatest
heights.

More weak and wobbly thoughts to come . . .