It's Not Just Saving

"You can have it if you'll use it."

That's a phrase I find myself saying sometimes--probably because it's been said to me several times. It's a phrase that is relevant to my life.

What's the good in having something if you don't use it?

Exactly. It's not much good at all.

When I was a kid in Ecuador, American candy was an extreme treat. Any time I had some, I kept it in a cute tin my older sister gave me (which I still have--does that tell you anything about me?). I loved it when the tin was full. I would open it, poke through the candy then close it and hide it away again. Rarely did I eat any of the yummies.

I didn't just keep the candy, I hoarded it.

After a long time I decided to eat  the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that was hidden in there, along with a candy cane and several other tasty tidbits.

The peanut butter cup was awful. It was dry and had a funny taste to it. Hoarding it had ruined it. If I had just nibbled away at it--a little bite here and a little bite there, I would've been able to enjoy it, and enjoy it for a long time. But I didn't and it was ruined.

That's a lesson I've had to relearn many times in my life--including just recently.

Over the years I've come to love snapping pictures, and I've taken lots of them. But all too often they sit on my computer or phone, doing nothing but taking up space. In the past couple of months I've gotten involved on Instagram and I have to admit to loving it. It's a place to do something with some of my pictures. A place to share them for no other reason than that they make me smile or I found them interesting.

But Instagram is all about the insta. I still have all the pictures I take with my camera which, in my experience, are not insta. I can't click and post while exploring the creek or standing in line at the grocery store--both of which I tend to do.

So, I've decided to apply what I've learned.

No more hoarding pictures. That means if I have a picture I want to share just because it makes me smile, then I'm gonna post it. Here. On my blog. Even if it's not a real good picture. Even if I have no words to go with it because after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

So tell me, are you hoarding something in your life?

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Resisting or Resting?

Nursery duty is not one of my favorite things. In fact, it's enough to make me groan, but I remember quite clearly how much I appreciated being able to sit through a church service without little ones. Nursery is something I can certainly do once every six weeks, so when the need was announced, and my daughter asked, we volunteered. Each time our turn comes up, I remind myself it's a good opportunity to serve with a smile so a young mother can sit in service. It's been good for me! And the time I'm with the kids is okay.

I was in the nursery recently and found myself with a little one that was tired and fighting sleep. Which made two of us! By 11:30 the child did not want to play, but to be held while I stood. I'm enough out of practice that I can't stand with a little one on my hip for long, so I sat in the rocker and tried to placate the temper tantrum throwing child on my lap. After several toys were batted away, I reached for a book, and quiet finally settled in. After chatting through several pages, the little one's head nodded and I would've cheered if I hadn't been afraid of ruining it. Two more nods and the little head tucked under my chin with a sigh from both of us.

As I sat and snuggled the little one I wondered why they resist sleep so much sometimes. That's when I realized that I'm often like that little one. I throw a fit because I don't want to rest in God. I resist relaxing in my Savior's hands and do everything I can to handle things on my own. Until I can't anymore and I drop off and finally rest in God—the very thing I needed all along.

Why does a little one fight sleep so much? Why do I fight resting in God so much? Maybe I need to simply let go, snuggle in and rest in my Father's arms.

How about you? Do resist resting at times too?

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Taught By a Nosegay

Welcome to Fiction Friday! Today's hostess is Vonnie at My Back Door Ministry. Be sure to join us there for links to more fun fiction.

This has been a busy week for me, and when I sat down to pick a story for today, I needed something to pick me up. As I scrolled through my file, I was very surprised to see I hadn't posted this story yet. Not only is it one of my all-time favorites, but it was also my first Editor's Choice at Faithwriters, which makes it pretty special to me.

Taught By a Nosegay

For ten years I’ve been the chief craft-lady at my church and I’ve made the centerpieces and favors for the Ladies’ Spring Banquet, but not this year. Oh no, they went and asked some new lady that no one knew very well to do them. Secretly I hoped the banquet would come close to a flop so they’d see they needed me. But there was no such luck. Inside the Fellowship Hall, all was calm and peaceful. Most of the seats were taken, too.

“You who! Vickie, you can sit with us!”

I stifled a groan and painted on what I hoped was a pleasant smile. “Mrs. Milligan, how nice to see you tonight!” Mrs. Milligan was truly a dear soul, but she loved to talk. As I thought about it, I realized that was just what I needed: a chatty table so I could just sit and stew.

“Aren’t the centerpieces lovely? I was so disappointed when I heard they’d asked that new lady, Paula Whats-her-name, to do them this year. They say she’s had a hard time settling in, but that she’s doing much better now. You’ve always done such beautiful arrangements, dear, and it’s become a highlight of the banquet for me! I still have some of the favors that you made!” Mrs. Milligan may like to talk, but she did make me feel better. “But look at these favors, Vickie-Dear! What do you make of these?”

They were darling silk nosegays, tied with a bow so you could put them in a vase at home, but there was something glaringly wrong with them--right in the middle was the ugliest little flower. I was astounded! Was Paula out of her mind? Did she think that flower was pretty? How could she think to camouflage that with even a hundred other pretty ones?

Mrs. Milligan was interrupted by our pastor’s wife who was opening the banquet. “Good evening, ladies! Isn’t it wonderful to be here tonight? Now, I don’t want to keep dinner waiting, but I heard the buzz and thought I’d take care of one little thing before we go any farther, since I’m sure you’ll enjoy the dinner more once it’s taken care of.”

She held up a larger version of the favors and pointed to a similarly ugly flower tucked in with all the pretty ones. “This is what’s had y’all buzzing since you came in, isn’t it?” There was a loud murmuring as ladies agreed. “Well, do you know what this is?”

I could imagine hearing every lady screaming, “Yeah! It’s an ugly flower!” But no one said a word since Paula Whats-her-name was in the room, too.

The pastor’s wife said, “This is an ugly flower!” The ladies let go of the breaths they’d been holding. “Well, it is, isn’t it?”

This time there was no holding back, “Yes!”

“Can all these other pretty flowers hide this one? No, they can’t! When I look at this nosegay all I can see is this ONE UGLY FLOWER, and I know that’s all y’all see, too.” The ladies all laughed and agreed with her.

“We’re all like this nosegay, did you know that?” The room quieted down. “We can have all the pretty flowers in our lives, but if there’s bitterness or wrath or anger or clamor or slander or any malice in our life it can never be camouflaged, no matter how many pretty flowers we use. If we don’t get rid of the uglies that’s all that will be seen--the ugliness. So, y’all do everyone a favor now. Get ahold of that ugly flower in your nosegay and pluck it out. Just ease it right out and toss it away.” She pulled the ugly flower out of the large nosegay and tossed it over her shoulder. Throughout the room ladies pulled out their ugly flowers and laughingly tossed them over their shoulders, too.

“There! That’s so much better! A life without bitterness, or slander, or WHATever is a beautiful life! Now, let’s pray and ask God to do the same in our hearts and to bless this dinner!”

“Oh, Father,” I silently prayed, “forgive me for becoming bitter and angry over not making the centerpieces and favors! Please remove that bitterness and anger and make me beautiful.”


**Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Ephesians 4:31 (NASB)

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Be sure to join us at My Back Door Ministry for links to more Fiction Friday!

Also, on Tuesday will be an interview with Linore Rose Burkard and there will be a drawing for her newest release The House in Grosvenor Square. We need to have 10 comments to hold the book drawing, so be sure to stop by and tell a friend!

I will be drawing for Cheryl Wyatt's book, Ready-Made Family Saturday evening, and posting the winner on Sunday, so you still have time to leave a comment on the interview with Cheryl Wyatt and be entered in that book drawing.
Have a wonderful weekend!

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Burn Up

The other day I entered the dining room and saw a paring knife sitting beside the four wick candle I've been burning this month. My darling husband had decided that the candle was burning its wicks too fast, leaving a whole lot of wax unused, so he helped it. He trimmed the wax from the top of the candle and dropped it down into the melted wax. He did that many times and even trimmed off the side to feed the wicks and keep them burning longer. His objectives? To enable us to see the flames and to keep the wicks burning long enough to burn up all the wax.

Our Heavenly Father has similar goals for our lives. He wants the flame of our life to be visible to those around us and He wants us to burn up for Him, not burn out.

Your are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; ~Matthew 5:14, 16

Originally, the whole purpose of candles was to illuminate the darkness. We're to be doing that, too, but we can't be effective if our flame is obscured by walls of unused wax. That's when the paring knife needs to come out to trim down the wax. Sure it changes the candle's appearance, many times leaving it much less appealing, but if the end goal is to illuminate the darkness, that's what needs to happen.

Too many times we're so concerned with having a visually appealing candle that we don't worry about how long the wicks last. If they get a little too long and start to smoke, we just trim the wick, without thinking about the burn time we're losing. God goes about it differently. He trims the wax and drops the shavings into the melted wax pool to raise the wax level, not worrying about the outward appearance. He wants the wick to burn all the wax.

But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all. ~Philippians 2:17

I will most gladly spend and be expended for your souls...
~2 Corinthians 12:15

Have you ever noticed that the unburned wax of the candle ends up being an empty shell that hides the flame? What's the whole point of the candle? The wax or the flame? If it's the wax, then we're right to worry about the shell that's left unburned. If it's the flame, then we need to allow the work of the paring knife and feed the wax to the wick, making sure the wax burns so it doesn't obstruct the light of the flame.

For it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. ~Philippians 2:13

 

Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. ~Matthew 5:16

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Joyously Abandoned

A Missions Matter! blog giveaway post about Isobel Kuhn's book, Green Leaf in Drought, one of the books to be given away.

In my post 'Face the If and Say...' I mentioned how Wilda Mathews was caught in the trap of 'if onlys' on Easter Sunday 1952, deep in the heart of Communist China. A year later, as Easter rolled around again, she was determined that it wouldn't be another black day for her. She started studying the resurrection story and resurrection life, and when she came to Peter's part she felt condemned.

She had not said, 'I know Him not' but she had no joy. She was not bitter, but she was frustrated and restless. Her opportunity to witness to the Chinese eyes around them that she did know the Lord and that He was satisfying her drought—had she shown that? If not, wasn't that denying the Lord before man?

As I've read that many times now (I keep turning back to this chapter!), I'm constantly convicted by it. Am I joyfully living? Like Wilda, I'm not bitter, but I've certainly been frustrated and restless at times. Can others see that Christ is not just meeting my needs, but fulfilling me, too? That His Life is flowing through me? Would others see my green leaves even though my life might be in the biggest drought yet to face me?

Two months later, Wilda's husband, Arthur, came to a similar conclusion. He had been reading Ephesians 5:10 and asked her what she thought was “well-pleasing to the Lord in these our experiences?” As they talked it over, Wilda was able to share with him her Easter lesson:

Not to receive it joyfully was to deny the Lord before men...A few nights later it came to Arthur like a flash: the Son had left Heaven, not submitting to the will of God, but delighting in it. Up to now they had been submitting; rather feverishly submitting...

The Son had left Heaven, not submitting to the will of God, but delighting in it.

In a letter home, Arthur wrote this about all they had learned:
Just to say submission to the will of God did not seem to go deep enough, for we had been trying for a long time to do just that. If you had a servant you would expect submission from him, just as you would from an old bullock with a yoke on its neck. But as sons surely there was something more than that.

...So as we uncovered the earth we could see that our prayers had selfishly centered around the shortening of the days...There was none of the recklessness of faith such as the three friends of Daniel showed. Nor was there the spirit of joyous abandonment which the widow displayed in giving her two mites.

So we came to see that God wanted us to will with Him to stay put; not to desire to run away as quickly as we could persuade Him to let us...The great chords that sounded through our hearts as we touched the Joyously Abandoned keys were really thrilling...

So we are no longer stupid bullocks being driven or dragged unwillingly along a distasteful road; but sons, co-operating wholeheartedly with our Father...

The yoke is LIGHT only as it is TAKEN, and not as it is suffered.

Simple submission is not enough. Delighting in doing God's will, in living out the will of God for your life, is where the great joy is.

I haven't mentioned here all the things the Mathews lived with, and without during their years of waiting to be released from China, but their living conditions were such that the Chinese Christians pitied them. But was there a purpose for all that God asked of this missionary couple? Yes, there was a tremendous purpose! Here's how Isobel Kuhn wrote it:

The message above all others which the Chinese church needed was to see that truth lived out under circumstances equally harrowing as their own.

Arthur and Wilda had longed to serve Him; but humanlike they had put their own interpretation on what service is. They thought it meant preaching with their lips. Amy Carmichael once replied to a Tamil Christian who took this meaning of service: 'God didn't make you all mouth.' The most potent way to preach is by life, by living it. This was the service which the Mathews family were to render to Him.

The message of this chapter has been running through my mind for two weeks, now, and the affect it's had on me is deep. Being joyously abandoned to God's will is where I want to be.


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Italicized parts of this post are direct quotations from Green Leaf in Drought by Isobel Kuhn, chapter 8.

Missions Matter! ~Blog Giveaway coming November 12th!

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In the Silent Moments

Years ago, when our kids were younger, yanno, preschoolers, people would laughingly ask what I did in my spare time. I knew exactly what they were talking about because spare time simply was not in my vocabulary. I'd laugh and tell them I folded laundry, and I could tell every woman who understood what I was talking about. (It was usually older couples that asked, and they were always very kind and enjoyed seeing our crew overflowing the shopping cart.) Even now that I've assigned the laundry detail to one of my daughters, I still enjoy the laundry. Why? Because I can often be quiet and even think while doing the laundry.

Now that my kids are older, one of the things I find myself doing is driving more. When you live 15 miles from town, you spend a lot of time behind the wheel, and I for one, love it. Why? Because I can often be quiet and enjoy the quietness. It's a momentary break in my daily life. Sometimes, as I drive, I'm able to do some good thinking. Sometimes, I'm praying. Sometimes, I'm crawling into God's throne room and merely leaning against His throne, much as a child does while listening to a story. As I lean there, I soak in the presence of God and let the praise seep into my weary soul and soothe me. During those times I'm not talking, I'm not praying, I'm just consciously being in God's presence.

Is there value in that? Yes. When I feel like I've been wrung dry, when I'm exhausted and my heart is too heavy to lift, I can lay there and let the praise swirl around me, lifting my heart for me.

There are times in our lives when it takes all we have to simply crawl into God's throne room, times when turning our face to the Sonshine requires all our concentration and efforts. God assures us that He will be there.

• Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. ~James 4:8



• But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find Him if you look for Him with all your heart and with all your soul.
  ~Deuteronomy 4:29



• Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. ~Matthew 7:7-8

Father, thank You for understanding that there are times when it's all I can do to crawl into Your presence, times when even turning my face to You takes all I have. Thank You understanding the mute sighing and groanings of my heart and for wrapping me in Your love, healing me as I lean against Your throne. My heart cries out with the angels, “Holy, Holy, Holy!”

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Fiction Friday: Safety Harness

“You want me to do what?!” Suze could hardly believe what she’d heard.

“Do that ride with me.” Sean, her husband, was grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s a roller coaster! Were you hoping I wouldn’t notice?”

Sean laughed. “You loved Space Mountain and that’s a roller coaster, too.”

“Yeah, but there’s no loop-de-loops on Space Mountain and this one not only has a loop, but look at that drop! I can’t do that!” Suze gripped the handrail in front of her as she watched a car of screaming people fly past on their sides.

“Sure you can! You can do more than you think. You’ve tried so many other things these last few years and ended up liking them, you need to try this one, too.” Sean said.

She looked back at the roller coaster and thought, indecision churning in her stomach, fear yapping around her ankles like a tiny attack dog. She didn’t budge as she watched another car top out of the initial climb and begin its descent. Her stomach churned as she thought about that drop and what Sean had said.

She took a deep breath and said, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

Twenty minutes later she climbed into a car and pulled the safety harness down over her shoulders. ‘What am I doing here, Lord?’ she silently cried, panic creeping close.

As she clutched the hand-grips she felt God’s reply. “You’re in My safety harness, Suze, the palm of My hand. Hold onto Me and you’ll be just fine. A roller coaster is like life: it’ll scare the bejeebers out of you one minute and give you thrills the next, then send you through loops and rolls and leave you wondering if you’re upside down or right side up. As long as you focus on Me, and hold onto Me, you’ll stay on My track. Yes, you’ll loose your stomach and be scared at times, but I’ll be right there with you, holding you tight.”

The car lurched forward and Suze drew a deep breath. “I can do this! God is with me, He’s holding me close. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

As they ground their way up to the summit the panic clawed at her. She knew what was coming next: the big plummet to the bottom and she had to choose between the panicking voice inside her that was screaming, ‘get me outta here!’ and the soothing voice saying, ‘you can do this, it’s all right.’

Just as they topped out and hung there for a split second she made her choice. “I can do this!” Then the bottom dropped out from beneath her and she went flying down, screaming as she went. The fear was there, but so was the confidence that she was safe within her safety harness. God’s safety harness.

They whizzed around sharp corners, were tossed on their sides and before she knew it the loop was coming at her. ‘Ok, here it comes…” she thought as they hurtled toward it. Up. Around. Down.

“Wahooooo!” Suze screamed as they were thrown into the next turn and rolled onto their sides.

After a few more heart-stopping moments they rolled back into the loading area. “You did it, Suze!” Sean hauled her out of the car and steadied her as she stood there on rubbery legs. “I knew you could do it!” He laughed as he hugged her close. “Did you like you it?”

Suze looked back at the roller coaster. “A roller coaster is a lot like life. With God as my safety harness I’ll be ok. Scared, shaken, tossed around, out of my comfort zone, but safe within the palm of His hand.”
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“You want me to what?!” Suze could hardly believe what she’d heard.

Mike, the youth pastor was serious. “Teach the sophomore girl’s Sunday School class.”

“I’ve never taught Sunday School before and I don’t know anything about high school girls.”

Sean snickered. “Remember the roller coaster.”

Suze looked at him, flabbergasted. “What does a roller coaster have to do with teaching sophomore girls?”

“You can do more than you think, you just have to get out of your comfort zone and try. Besides, you were looking for a place to serve here in the church.”

She took a deep breath and muttered, “Safety harness,” then looked at Mike and said, “Ok, I’ll teach them.”

I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.
~Philippians 4:13

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This is a piece I wrote for Faithwriters shortly after going on my very first roller coaster, well, other than Space Mountain. (LoL)

Thank you for joining us for Fiction Friday, whether you're posting fiction or reading--or both. If you're posting, put a link to us here at Patterings, and add your name and url address to the Mr. Liknky gadget. If you're reading, enjoy the stories!

And don't forget to tell your friends! Anyone and everyone is welcome!
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Reeling in the Realm

Lord, my plate is overflowing. Is this truly what You want me to do or did I leap before I looked? ...yes, I know everything lines up perfectly and I know that I sought You first, but Lord, I don't know that I can do this. The task is bigger than me, there's no way I can...

A couple weeks ago I taught a lesson to my Wednesday night church kids that started with some challenges for them. Challenges that had them saying, “Whaaaat? There's no way!” I just smiled and assured them there was. (Doesn't everyone know how to stick a balloon with a pin and not pop it? How about slicing a banana without peeling it?)

From there we set up for a tug-of-war game. I put all the big kids on one side and all the little kids on the other. For some reason they didn't think the odds were too even, so I adjusted things. I left the smallest boy to pull against all the big kids. I wish you could've seen their faces! They truly thought I was crazy that night. First those challenges, then a lopsided tug-of-war, but I was painting a picture for them. I'm not sure how much of the picture they brought home with them, but I know that the lesson I learned that night is still lingering with me. Really lingering with me--in fact, the lesson keeps leaping in front of me.

God gave Gideon a special job to do, and it left him reeling in the Realm of Overwhelmed. And while he was still reeling, God adjusted the odds even more. He sent home all of Gideon's warriors except for 300 of them. In the face of all those Midianites, 300 Israelites were hardly worth mentioning—which is probably exactly what God wanted. God was making a statement and He was using big, bold letters, leaving no doubt as to who the praise for the victory would belong to. Him, and Him alone.

Today, ok, to be honest with you, this whole week, I've been reeling in the Realm of Overwhelmed. Thing after thing has come up that has needed my attention and time. Doubt has lunged in and body slammed me, leaving me breathless and whining. (Ask my friends, they've witnessed my whining—not a pretty sight!) And through it all I kept hearing one question whispered in my heart. 'Remember Gideon?'

Yes, Lord, I remember Gideon. I remember the victory You claimed. This task You've given me is beyond me, Father. If there's any victory to be had, it will be Yours, because without You I'll never make it out of my tent, let alone out of my camp. Give me the courage to pick up this sword You've given me, the courage to shatter the jar hiding my torch and the will to shout with all my might 'A sword for the LORD!'

The Lord turned to him and said, 'Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?'
~Judges 6:14

This part of Gideon's story is found in Judges 6-7:22.

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Fiction Friday: Quiet, Please!

Melissa’s head was pounding as she made the circuit around the church building gathering children. In addition to her own 2, she was playing taxi driver for 5 others, giving her a total of 7 between the ages of 5 and 12. The hallways were noisy with the sound of the ‘musical instruments’ the kids had made in crafts that morning. There were oatmeal canister drums, soda bottle maracas, paper plate tambourines, and rubber band harps all being played exuberantly, emphatically reminding her why she worked in the kitchen during Vacation Bible School and not with the kids themselves. Children were not her cup of tea. In fact, she didn’t even really like children.

Finally having all seven children they headed for the van, at least until they left the church building, at which point the kids scattered in seven different directions.

“Stop!” Melissa shouted. “Walk this way.” She made a wide sweeping arc that pointed toward her van and watched in amazement as the kids laughed and fell in line behind her with their arms out, pointing. Shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head, she started off for the van. Behind her the kids shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads, but followed.

Melissa suspiciously looked over her shoulder and almost tripped when she saw the kids look over their shoulders and giggle at each other. Stopping, she turned, propped a fist on her hip and asked, “What on earth are you doing?”

More giggles as the kids propped their hands on hips and innocently batted their eyes at her. Finally Meggie, the five-year-old couldn’t contain herself, “Mommy, you said to walk this way, so we were walking just like you said!” The older kids dissolved in laughter.

“Oh, I see!” Melissa said. “So, if I walk like this,” she turned around and walked like Frankenstein, “you’ll walk that way, too?” Looking over here shoulder she saw they were following her, so she flapped her arms like she was flying and, sure enough, they flapped too, amid much giggling and jiggling from their instruments. Well, Melissa thought, I DID say it!

At the van she counted the kids and checked their faces, making sure she had the correct ones; it would be awful to get home and find she had the wrong ones. By the time they pulled out of the parking lot there was a cacophony of musical instruments as they all tried to out-do the other. This is why I only have two, Lord, Melissa prayed. Kids really do drive me crazy. Even working in the kitchen is too much, so please show me where I can serve You, without having to deal with children.

Britney twisted around in the front passenger seat and called out, “Ok, guys, I’m Miss Sherry. Let’s sing ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It!’” Melissa hadn’t thought the noise could be any louder than it had been, but she was wrong. The volume increased when they began singing.

“Sing it out, Gang!” Melissa smiled at Britney’s imitation of Miss Sherry, the song leader. “I can’t hear you!” Britney called out just as Miss Sherry did during the morning singing. The kids all belted out the song while getting more noise from their instruments than Melissa had thought possible, her head beating in time with the canister drums.

Maybe they’ll quit after this song, she thought desperately, wishing she’d taken the time to take some aspirin before getting the kids.

Rather than quitting Britney called out, “Again!” at the end of the song and they kept rolling.

In desperation Melissa held up her hand, trying to signal for quiet. “That’s not music! That’s noise!”

“That’s part of our verse today, Miss Melissa.” Jason, the seven-year-old called out. “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.” The kids all happily went into a jam session leaving Melissa to her thoughts.

Ok, Lord. It may be a joyful noise, but it’s driving me crazy! Melissa gripped the steering wheel and prayed for patience. Lord, I need help here. You know I’m not one who loves children…

“Quiet! I can’t handle any more!” Melissa commanded. All the children fell silent and looked at her in amazement, all but the five-year-old who was lost in her own little world.

“Jesus wuvs da wittle chill-dwen, all da chill-dwen of da wohrld.”

“Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.”
~Psalm 100:1 (KJV)

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This is one of my early stories that I wrote for Faithwriters Weekly Writing Challenge--one that I really enjoyed. Since so many of us are involved with Vacation Bible School during this time of year, I thought it'd be a good time for this particular story.

Thank you for joining us for Fiction Friday, whether you're posting fiction or reading--or both. If you're posting, put a link to us here at Patterings, and add your name and url address to the Mr. Liknky gadget. If you're reading, enjoy the stories!

And don't forget to tell your friends! Anyone and everyone is welcome!
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Time At The Pump

Having a large vehicle means we spend a lot of time and money at the pump. Not only do we cover many miles because we live in the middle of nowhere, but we haul a lot of 'stuff.' Whether it's kids, tools, or building materials for a job, we really use our vans, which leads us directly to the gas pumps.

One of the habits that we've developed through the years is to make frequent stops there, without waiting until we're near empty. Rather than let our tanks run low, we hit the pump when we're at half-a-tank, and many times this has helped us avoid problems--like when we're running tight on time. Another problem we avoid is condensation in our tank, which would cause our vans to chug, cough, and sputter, and even stall out.

Life is similar to the cars we drive. No matter the make or model, we all need to spend time at the pump. The more you go and serve, the more time you need to spend there pumping in the fuel, otherwise you'll run out and be stuck somewhere with an empty gas tank.

God's Word, and time spent in prayer and meditating on HIM is our fuel—it's what keeps us going. Without it we run dry, stall, and burn out.

Sure, we can economize in our life the way we do with our cars and running errands, but that's certainly not the best and it's not what God has for us. We are created to bring glory to God, to serve Him.

“And do not neglect doing good and sharing; for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”
~Hebrews 13:16

Christ has paid the price for us!

“For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body.”
~1 Corinthians 6:19

We just need to show up at the pump and fill our tanks so we can do the running and work He has for us to do.

“And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” ~Romans 12:2

“I am the the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me, and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.”
~John 15:5

Don't wait until your tank is almost empty to hit the pump! Make frequent stops there to keep your tank topped off. You just never know when you'll be called on, and you'll want a full tank so you can go distance!

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I'm Touched!

Today, as I went to church, my heart's cry was for God to speak to me, to refresh me, to touch me--and He heard my cry. When I left tonight I knew I had been able to touch the hem of His garment and that He had restored my weary soul. God is so good to me.

Pastor Mike preached on Mark 5:21-34 and the woman with the 12 year hemorrhage. Since I've dealt with a little anemia at times in my life, I shudder just imagining what her life must have been like, and she didn't have the modern conveniences that we do. The doctors hadn't been able to help her, her condition was growing worse, and she had spent all she had--she was out of resources. It sounded like a good description for how I felt this weekend: depleted and spent.

So when the woman heard about Jesus, she not only followed Him, but she made her way through the multitude that was crowding around Jesus. Moving through a thick crowd is difficult, at best, and Mark says “For she thought, 'If I just touch His garments, I shall get well.'” The verb tense there was that she was thinking that continually, repeating it over and over to herself as she slowly worked her way to where she was close enough to touch Jesus' cloak. She was determined to reach Jesus, knowing that He was her only hope. She was totally focused on reaching and touching Jesus--and she did.

Jesus knew the instant she touched His cloak and He asked who touched Him—NOT because He didn't know (He did!) but because He wanted her to publicly confess and so tell all those around her what He had done for her.

Jesus wanted her to testify to what He had done in her life.

The woman, knowing she was healed, fell before Jesus and told Him what had happened. All those around Jesus heard her testimony, and I can just imagine the news of her healing sweeping through the crowd, being passed from person to person until even those at the very fringes of the crowd had heard, like we still hear today. Jesus was glorified through her life and her witness.

Pastor Mike, knowing many of us were still tired from VBS, reminded us that when we do the Lord's work power flows out of us, leaving us drained and in need of refilling--in need of touching our Lord. He also reminded us that we can reach out and touch Jesus if we're determined enough to, if we don't let the crowd hinder us and keep us from Him. My heart soared because I knew this was God answering my prayer and speaking His words to me. I felt the worn out parts of me being mended and restored and I was able to sing with the rest of the church body “He touched me, Oh, He touched me and oh the joy that floods my soul. Something happened and now I know, He touched me and made me whole!”

Let us therefore draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and may find grace to help in time of need. ~Hebrews 4:16

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Freedom From Fear

Stepping out of my comfort zone is never easy, and last night I was waaaaaaay off my comfy, cozy little perch. In real life I am not a very assertive person. At church functions I'd rather wash dishes and wipe tables than be the one holding the microphone or making the calls to set things up.

Last night I found myself papering the town with announcements, bulletins, blog posts, emails, everything I could think of to let people know about Fiction Friday. At one point I sat back and thought, What on earth am I doing? I began to panic and almost didn't finish what I felt should be done, but before I hit the bailing out point, I got back to work. I changed my focus to the task at hand. What was the task? Oh, it wasn't announcing Fiction Fridays nor inviting people to participate, it was obedience.

My life was characterized by fear, up until a year and a half ago when I quit running and started submitting and following God. The only way I could find the courage to follow the path He was pointing me toward was to give it all to Him. I finally realized that my responsibility in life is to simply obey God. God, the Lord of the harvest, is responsible for the outcome and results.

That means that I'm responsible for writing to the very best of my ability, and obeying His leading, whether I understand the why or how of it, and God is free to use it however He wants. I don't need to fear failing in my writing because the whole reason I write is to obey God. By laying it at His feet I'm no longer afraid of making a fool of myself—it's His to use as He wants, if He wants.

What we, as people, consider personal success might not be what God would call success for us. By simply obeying God, He became my safety net. If He asks me to walk across a tightrope, He's my safety net, ready to catch me and keep me safe . If He asks me to swing on a trapeze, He's my safety net, ready to catch me and keep me safe. There have been times I've felt like I was on the tightrope and there have been times I've felt that what He led me to do was like performing stunts on a trapeze, with a live audience watching me.

But it wasn't about my performance. It was about my obedience. God's goal for me might not have been a perfectly executed back-flip into my partner's outstretched hands. His goal might have been to demonstrate His faithful ability to catch His flying and falling daughter.

It boils down to obedience. Obedience to do the things He calls me to—even if I don't understand why, or how, or if I'll succeed or not. Am I willing to fall on my face—for God?

If I'm willing to fall on my face before God, then I should be willing to fall on my face for Him.

Whether I succeed at anything, as the world defines success, is not the issue. My obedience in following my Lord and Savior is. If I'm obeying Him, He's free to use me, however He wants—even if that means that I end up looking foolish or silly to the world around me. As long as my goal and focus is obedience to God then I'm on the right path. Besides, being flat on my face isn't a bad place to be. It's the perfect position for praising God.

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A Naaman Complex

Recently my husband asked me to do a few things, and I have to admit that my response wasn't too good. There’s nothing glorious nor grand about wiping down cupboards, washing ceiling fan fixtures and especially about scrubbing hard water marks out of toilets, but they are things that need to be done, and they do fall into the things I'm responsible for. You see, I have a Naaman complex.

Naaman was angry because the prophet Elisha wouldn’t even come out to speak to him, and he was a great, important man. Too many times I get caught up in my own importance, which is truly laughable because I’m not great, nor important, to anybody except maybe my family. Just like Naaman, I tend to stand there and sputter and fume about why I need to do such menial tasks.

So Naaman raced away in his chariot. Thankfully he had wise servants who helped him see how silly he was being and the result was that he went to the Jordan River. Did he quit when he saw no results after going under six times? If he had, he would’ve died a leper. Did he understand why it had be seven times? Did he moan about seven? Did he try to bargain it down to five? The Bible just says he dipped himself seven times as he was instructed to. Like Naaman, I don’t need to know why, I just need to obey, without moaning or bargaining.

For Naaman, it came down to complete obedience. He had faith, why else would he have undertaken such a long journey? But faith without obedience would have left him a leper. I have faith, but if I don’t obey God my faith will grow cold.

For the Christian, the secret to our spiritual growth lies in obedience. That means being faithful in the multitude of little things because it’s through obeying in the mundane and menial things, that we learn faithfulness for the bigger things. If I won't do the simple things my husband has asked me to do, things that make perfect sense to me, will I do the things God asks me to do--things that make no sense to me?

Even though I may start like Naaman did, fuming and raging because things aren’t going as I expected and because I’ve been asked to do some things that I don't want to do, I'm going to make sure I end like Naaman did: faithfully obeying.

Naaman's account is found in 2 Kings 5:1-14.

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