A Lumpy Piece of Clay

 

 

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.

--Ephesians 5:8

 

 

 

At the busiest airport in the world, my older daughter and I stood in line, waiting for our turn to take off our shoes and empty our pockets. Just as we placed our purses in the bin, we were approached by a very friendly, enthusiastic worker.  “Are you two sisters taking a trip together?  Oh, won’t you have fun.  I just love traveling with my sister!”  Now, as you can imagine, I was thrilled.  I’m twenty-five years older than my daughter.  Her trip, however, was not getting off to a great start.

 

We’ve often been confused for sisters.  Same hair color, same Rubenesque figure.  We even sound alike.  But I don’t want her to be a carbon copy of me.  I want her to glow with the light of her Heavenly Father.  I want her to be a perfect reflection of Him.

 

Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.—Ephesians 5:1,2

 

I heard a famous businessman talk about the wonder of training young people to follow in his footsteps.  His eyes teared and his face glowed as he described the thousands of people, scattered around the world, who were carrying on his work, his ideas.

 

I cringed.  I don’t want my children, my students, my readers to follow my ideas.  No way!  I’ll lead them astray for sure!  When they look at me, I want them to see the love of Christ in my eyes.  I want them to see His joy alight in my face.  I want my life to point directly to the Savior.

 

Oh, but does it?  When people look at me, what do they see?  Now, that’s a scary thought.  Do they see pride?  Vanity?  Sin?

 

Think about it. What do people around you see in your life?

 

 

I know that Jesus is growing me in all sorts of directions.  Some of it’s painful, some of it’s wonderful, but all of it is in His plan for me.  I’m just a lumpy piece of clay that He’s kneading and rolling and pounding into a pot designed to be used for His glory.  Not mine.

 

No, you don’t ever want to imitate me, or any other human for that matter.  Set your sights heavenward.  Be the light of the world.  Be an imitator of God.

 

Father, forgive me for holding on to my pride, my will.  Help me to open myself to Your teachings.  Allow me to be shaped in Your image so that people will look at me and see only You.

 

 

 

 

Callous

 

He has blinded their eyes
and hardened their hearts,
so they can neither see with their eyes,
nor understand with their hearts,
nor turn—and I would heal them.—Isaiah 6:10

 

          I didn’t see them. People curled in their blankets, clinging to the narrow ledge under an interstate bridge. Clusters of indigent men and women huddled in cardboard hovels, struggling to survive. Desperate words scrawled on paper signs held by filthy hands:  please help me. The hopeless.  The weary.  The mentally ill.  The addicts. 

 

          My husband saw them.  Each  time we drove into Atlanta, he would point them out to me.  (I often wished he wouldn’t.  The sight of them made me very uncomfortable, a tug at my heart I wanted to ignore.)  He would stop on the side of the road and give away a bottle of water, a granola bar, sometimes even money if that’s all he had.  He’d make the person promise to use the five dollar bill to buy food, knowing this was a promise easily broken.  I’d shake my head, clucking disapprovingly, “You know where that money is going, don’t you?” 

But he’d reply mildly, “It doesn’t matter. I have to do what I think is right.  How that man uses the money is his choice.”

          While his heart reached out to help them, my heart ran for cover.  It was hardened and cold, looking for justification in John 12:8, “You will always have the poor among you.”  I’m sure Jesus didn't mean for me to forget about them, or judge them for their life choices, or keep my hands in my pockets when they needed my help. 

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.—Isaiah 54:10

 

          God’s unfailing love for you and me will not be shaken.  His unfailing love for the homeless, the poor, the troubled will not be shaken.  How can I demonstrate this steadfast love to those I refuse to see? 

 

          Time for a change of heart.  Oh, dear.  They always hurt.

 

• Jesus had compassion on two blind men and restored their vision. (Matthew 20:34) 
• When Jesus saw the large crowd in Matthew 14, Jesus had compassion on them and healed their sick. 
• In Matthew 15, Jesus had compassion on the hungry crowd, and fed them. 

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.—Mark 6:34

 

          Every time I found the word compassion in the Gospels, it was followed by Jesus’ quick, decisive action:  feeding, healing, teaching.  He didn’t shake his head sadly, say “Oh, what a shame!” and leave the blind to stumble along the side of the road. He did something!

 

          Compassion demands action. A bottle of water, a five dollar bill, a meal for a homeless shelter.  Giving up something of ourselves.   Scraping away the hard, dry callus to reveal the pure, sweet compassion waiting just beneath.

 

Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble.—1 Peter 3:8

 

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Father, compassion requires action. Teach me to see people as you do, as your beloved children.  Teach me to take action, just as Jesus did. 

God is Great, God is Good

Read This Before You Pray Over Your Thanksgiving Meal!

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

--Jeremiah 29:13

 

          “God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food….”

Does God hear those little rote prayers we recite over and over as children?  How about those short notes we send up to the ceiling as we lay in bed at night?  I wonder.  We are promised that He hears our prayers, but even the half-hearted-I’m-in-a-hurry, bless-us-as-we-go kind?

 

“Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”

These questions pricked something in my heart, and sent me on a search to find out more about prayer.  For example, I wanted to know how prayer got started.  Who said the first prayer? Well, the first reference I could find was Genesis 4:26.  This was right after Cain had killed Abel, and Adam’s wife gave birth to Seth.

At that time, men began to call on the name of the Lord.

-- Genesis 4:26

 

But the prayers I found in the Old Testament had a different dynamic from what we know today.  The prayers of Moses, Samuel, Gideon, and Abraham were more like conversations; we’ve turned ours into monologues.  Look at Genesis 18, for example.  Abraham and God are talking about destroying Sodom and Gomorrah.  They engage in a dialogue, and God verbally responds to Abraham’s request.  Why do you suppose we don’t hear His voice like that anymore?  Hearing the voice of Almighty God at the end of “I pray the Lord my soul to take” would certainly shake us up, wouldn’t it?

I began to seriously consider my own prayers.  Those quick, off the cuff sentences thrown mentally at the sky when I need a little help with something.  What does God think about prayers like that?  Are they pinned to a heavenly bulletin board, stuck to the refrigerator in paradise with an angel magnet?  What will He say to me about my prayer life when I’m face to face with Him in Glory?

“You missed it, Holly.  I was there for you 24/7 and you missed it.  You could have chosen to enter the Holy of Holies with Me, but you wasted this precious gift that I offered you.  The doors of My throne room were hurled off their hinges, left wide open, in anticipation of your visit.  But you came rarely and stayed for such brief visits.  You didn’t stop to listen.”

Oh, does this hurt your heart the way it does mine?  How could I ignore this facet of my walk with Him?  The power of constant communication with the Father?  I’m not exactly sure what it means to pray without ceasing, but it’s time I learn.  How about you?

In her article, “Basics of Prayer”, Mary Fairchild listed five things we need to hold in our hearts as we kneel before the throne of God:

 

·        Be humble. (2 Chronicles 7:14)

·        Ask for and receive forgiveness. (James 5:16)

·        Pray wholeheartedly. (Jeremiah 29:13)

·        Have faith. (Mark 11:24)

·        Be obedient. (1 John 3:22) 

 

And we will receive whatever we request because we obey Him and do the things that please Him.—1 John 3:22

 

No more taking this for granted.  No more whispering platitudes at the ceiling fan over the bed.  No more sing-song, catch phrases mumbled over meatloaf.  We’re invited to have a conversation with the Alpha and Omega, the Mighty Jehovah, the Great I AM. 

 

                       It’s time to get on our knees, believers.

                              

Almighty Father, I am so humbled by Your love for me.  As I come before You now, I will be still.  I will listen to Your voice.  I will obey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Squarest Peg

 

God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.

--Hebrews 6:10

 

          When my husband retired, we knew we didn’t want to spend our “golden years” in rocking chairs on the front porch, although beach chairs by the gulf sounded appealing.  We both felt that God had something else planned for us, and we waited with great excitement to see what that something would be. So, like impatient children begging for a trip to Disneyland, we pestered God with our question, “Where can you use us, Lord?” 

 

          We have been team members on mission trips that took us around the world.  Don, to Africa, and me, to Burma and Thailand.  We’ve traveled together to Mexico several times.  But where would He send us now?  Would it be southeast Asia?  Kenya? Back to Thailand?  I just knew it would be some place exotic and glamorous.  I pictured it in my mind:  Our friends would throw us a wonderful going away bash. They’d “oooh” and “aaah” about our amazing faith and bravery in leaving our home behind and traveling off to some foreign land to serve.

 

          As I re-read that last paragraph, I’m so ashamed of myself. Obviously, my priority was not service to God, but service to my own ego. Yet God still chose to use us—not on some Pacific island or Mongolian mountain—but right here in Atlanta.  He made a place for us to serve at Jesus Place Inner City Mission, an organization that ministers to the physical and spiritual needs of the city’s homeless.

 

          Now, this is not a pretty ministry.  There is no glamour here.  The men who come to us are usually hungry, dirty, and weary.  Most are living in a city-run shelter, some are living on the streets.  Many have spent time in prison.  Some are on drugs or have problems with alcohol.  They have no money, and almost no hope.  The staff and volunteers at Jesus Place may be the only light they see all week.  And that’s a tough job.

 
Click on the logo to visit the website. 

          I can’t tell you how far out of my comfort zone this ministry has dragged me.  And ‘dragged’ is exactly the right word.  Still hoping for one of those aesthetically pleasing missions, I resisted Jesus Place with my entire being.  Even today, seven years later, I still yearn for the more glamorous Masai Mara village.  But Jesus Place is where He’s decided I should be.

 

          Every day I see growth in my husband Don because of his work there.  I can see that this is a perfect ministry for him.  He is such a servant, and caring for the needs of these men uses his spiritual gifts in ways I couldn’t even imagine.  But me?  I just don’t see it.  I’m literally a square peg in a round whole.

 

 

          And maybe that’s the point.  Maybe He’s using this ministry to round off those square edges of mine, to make me a humble…HUMBLE…and useful tool in His hands.  The sanding is what hurts.  These splinters are painful!

 

          So, I try to remain open and teachable, patiently waiting to see what plans He has for us in this season of our lives.  I remind myself that it’s a privilege to be serving the Lord in this place, to have the opportunity to be a light in this very dark city.  He chose this place for me, and He chose ME for this place. 

 

          Father, sand these rough corners off of me.  Use me as You will, to serve those who may never have another opportunity to experience Your love.  Let me be your hands and heart in this community as You teach me and mold me into the servant You want me to be.

 

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I have recently published "Why A Star?", a student's guide to the Christmas story. The book contains 10 lessons for children, ages 10 to 14. It is priced at $4.99. All proceeds from the sale of this book go to support the work of Jesus Place. Please click on the book below to order your copy. Thank you for helping to support this vital work!

                                                 

                                                 

My Day in Court

by Holly Moulder

Even now my witness is in heaven; my advocate is on high.—Job 16:19

 

          Several months ago I was called to jury duty.  Not only was I selected to sit on a jury, but I was also chosen as jury foreman.  The case we heard had to do with a local college student, driving drunk, who hit and paralyzed a young father.  The driver had already been convicted of his crime and was serving his sentence; our jury’s task was to determine a monetary settlement for the victim and his family.  Millions and millions of dollars were at stake, and I was determined that, under my watch, justice would prevail.  Just like it did on Matlock.

 



 

          One by one, the parade of witnesses for the prosecution took the stand.  Expert upon expert, specialist upon specialist.  They READ page after page of medical jargon.  Not even the lawyers had the good sense to pull the plug.  The words droned on, becoming less like testimony and more like the hum of very bored, very tired bees.  My eyelids sunk to half-mast.  I had to keep nudging Juror #9, a waitress who worked the graveyard shift at a local Waffle House.  She was giving it her all, but it was a losing battle.  At least she didn’t snore. 

 

This was not at all like TV.  I watched Law and Order.  I thought I knew how this was supposed to go.  I yearned for a few words from Lennie Briscoe!   Where’s Jack McCoy when you need him?

 

And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.—Acts 1:9

 

Then it hit me:  We are called to be His witnesses!  I pondered that for a while as the courtroom parade dragged into its third hour.  I challenge you to ask yourself the same question I asked myself:  When we talk to unbelievers, do we sound like one of the specialists I heard in court that day, impressed with our religious knowledge and in love with the sound of our own voices?  Does our testimony put the world to sleep? 

 

Or, are we unprepared when the opportunity comes? Do we bolt like rabbits, unsure of our words and scared of standing up for Jesus? 

 

Be dressed ready for service and keep your lamps burning.—Luke 12:35

I was in Mexico on a mission trip with a group of ‘first-timers’ from my home church.  We had gathered at a nursing home to lead a Sunday afternoon service.  The afternoon had gone as expected, the service flowed smoothly.  No bumps.  No mistakes.  We patted ourselves on our shoulders, and made a bee line for the van.  Not so fast, my witness, a voice whispered in my spiritual ear.

 

A tiny elderly lady in a wheelchair stopped us with a question.  “Before you go, could one of you tell us your testimony?  Would you share with us your story of how you came to know our Lord?”  Her warbly voice stopped us dead in our tracks.  Uh, oh.  This was our big moment.  Time to do the job, answer the call, share the Gospel.  And, collectively, we froze. 

 

Except for one faithful lady.  Doris has been a stalwart pillar of our congregation for decades.  A teacher to generations of Sunday Schoolers, she’s someone you want right there next to you when you’re caught up in spiritual warfare.  We’d been concerned that the trip might be too taxing for someone of her age.  Those Mexican roads can be rough, you know.  But Doris would not be dissuaded from coming with us.

 

And, as we learned that afternoon, Doris was on this trip for a reason.  She turned and faced that group of eager believers, delighted to share her story of faith.  There was no hesitation, no fillers—just fact.  When her opportunity came, Doris was ready.  She schooled us all that day.  I promised never to be caught unprepared again.

 

In Acts 26, Paul tells Agrippa about his encounter on the road to Damascus. Paul writes, “Then I asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’

 

‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,’ the Lord replied. ‘Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen and will see of me.’—Acts 26:15, 16

 

          That’s it.  Get dressed.  Get your lamp lit. Get up and stand on your feet.  Be ready.  Be His witness.

 

Father, thank you for allowing me to be your witness in this world.  Shine your light through me.  Help me always to stand up for you, to share your love with the lost.

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did Jesus Laugh?

by Holly Moulder

 

“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,” said Jesus.

—John 10:10

 

          Did you hear the one about the Samaritan, the Rabbi, and the Publican?  All three went fishing in the Sea of Galilee…..

 

What do you think?  Did Jesus ever tell a joke while the disciples were gathered around a camp fire at the end of the day?  Did He join in the fun when His friends got rowdy and playful?  I’ve always wondered:  Did Jesus laugh?  

 

          I was raised in a rather traditional, solemn protestant denomination.  My Sunday school teachers etched into my brain a picture of ‘JesusOnEarth’ that is securely framed and displayed on my memory’s wall.  He’s standing with his arms outstretched, his face emotionless, his robe billowing around his sandaled feet.  Not a glimmer of a smile.   And do you remember the famous painting of the Savior standing at the door and knocking?  I think it was posted on at least one wall of every church I ever attended.  He’s not smiling in that one either.  You’d think if He were visiting someone He loved, He’d be happy about it.  It would show on His face.  Not according to this painter.

 

          Maybe the artists of the ages got it all wrong.

 

          If you were to ask me to name a quality about myself that I like, I wouldn’t answer that my stunning beauty would leave you awestruck, or my brilliant intelligence would astound and amaze you.  If pressed for an answer, I’d probably mumble something about my razor-sharp wit.  I love to laugh.

 

          Don’t you?  Didn’t Jesus?  I like this view of the Savior’s sense of humor described by Sam Trumbore in his Easter Sunday sermon in April, 1995.  Reverend Trumbore wrote:

 

 Jesus sent into swine an evil spirit named Legion who was tormenting a poor half-naked fellow. The swine went nuts, ran into a lake and drowned.  The word Legion was a reference to Roman soldiers. I'd wager the telling of this story caused a good laugh by the Palestinian hearers of the time.

 

A little good, ole’ political satire from the Creator of the universe.  Boy, couldn’t we use a little more of this today?

 

For the LORD your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.—Zephaniah 3:17

 

          I believe Jesus chuckled, snickered, snorted, chortled, and guffawed.  I think a good joke made Him slap His knee, double over, and cry tears of joy.  Why?  Because in every way, He was fully human, just like us.

 

A good laugh relieves stress and soothes sticky situations.  It replaces worry wrinkles with laugh lines. It erases our differences and unites us, reminding us that we are just people, after all.  But we’re a people made in the likeness of a Father who created us for His pleasure.  Imagine that!

 

  Knock, knock!  Who’s there?  When I arrive at those gates of heaven, I expect peals of laughter to greet me.   Just the thought of it makes me smile!

 

Father, thank you for bringing joy into our lives.  Thank you for creating us to laugh.  Today as I walk through this life, help me to see Your sense of humor in the people and things around me.  Let me be a messenger of Your joy.  Oh, Father, I want to hear You laugh!

 

 

 

         

 

 

         

 

Carved in Stone

Carved in Stone

by Holly Moulder

 

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.  –Revelation 2: 17

 

          “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, his name is my name, too!” is a silly song I remember singing with my friends in elementary school. We giggled and snickered at the ridiculous lyrics, first screaming the words at the top of our lungs, and then whispering them in a hushed chorus. It was all childish fun, little girls making memories. I didn’t understand until I got older just how important a name could be.

 

          My name is printed boldly on two diplomas and countless certificates, now lost. It is carved on my ‘teacher of the year’ plaque and my book awards. It’s displayed on the covers of the novels I’ve written.  But over the years, it’s been changed. There was a marriage, a divorce, a re-marriage. New last names were added to my social security card, W-2s and driver’s licenses. And as my legal name got larger, the original me diminished. “When the roll is called up yonder,” I mused, “will I know what name to answer to?”

 

          That’s why this verse is so important to me. I love that only He and I will know this name. He has chosen it for me and carved it, to last forever, on a white stone. 

 

And He didn’t choose white by chance. Leprous skin, when healed, becomes as white as snow. Heaven’s food, manna, is white like coriander seeds.  Royal garments are not just blue, but white, too. During the transfiguration in Matthew 17:2, Jesus’ robes turned white as the light.  In John 20:12, the angels in the empty tomb are clothed in white. “The one who is victorious will be dressed in white,” says Revelation 3: 5.  And in Revelation 19:11, the rider on the white horse is named “Faithful and True”.

Finally, my favorite:

 

Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. The earth and the heavens fled from his presence, and there was no place for them. --Revelation 20:11

          The name given to every believer–yes, that means you!—will be engraved on a white stone, given to each one of us by the Father himself.  That’s white, as in pure, true, faithful, royal, clean, victorious and mighty!

 

Father, I rest on your timeless promises.  Forgive me for my sins, and make me white as snow. Help me to overcome the traps and snares of this world so that I will receive the hidden manna and the white stone you have promised to the faithful.