The Petulant Pot

“Will what is molded say to its molder, ‘Why have you made me like this?’”  Romans 9:20 

One year for Christmas when we were kids, my sister received a potter’s wheel, and on occasion I tried to use it.  Poor clay.  I smashed it, spun it, shaped it, pinched it, pushed it, and pounded it—over and over and over, but in spite of my best efforts, the end result was rarely smooth and never lovely.  Yet the clay never complained, but simply sat silently, letting me mold and make it into whatever I desired.

Perhaps Paul had spent time playing at a potter’s wheel because in the middle of his bedrock treatise on the sovereignty of God, He uses this same example to drive home his point.  “But who are you, O man, to answer back to God?  Will what is molded say to its molder, ‘Why have you made me like this?’”(Romans 9:20)  The apostle is accenting God’s ultimate right as Creator to use us as He wills for the purpose of His glory.  I would never want to deflect from such astounding truth, but the unvoiced question of the clay has captured my current attention.

“Why have you made me like this?”  The clay may never say it, but we certainly do.  Over and over and over—every time we’re discontent with our appearance or our abilities.  We want to be taller, shorter, smaller, or stronger.  We would like different hair, better skin, straighter teeth.  We wish we could sing or speak or play or teach or run or paint like others we know or know about.  We think that “if only I was…” or “if only I could…” then we would be more useful or valuable, but such is not so.  There is no “look” that will make you more loved and no talent that can make you more treasured, for your worth lies not in what you are but in the One who made you what you are. 

A simple illustration to prove my point—an upstairs dresser at my parents’ home is graced with a decorative ceramic washbowl and matching pitcher.  It is lovely and large but worth very little. (It might fetch five bucks at a good garage sale.)  Today, in a quick look online, I found another washbowl and jug—not quite a large and not nearly as lovely but worth a whole lot more.  (As in several hundred dollars.)  Why?  Because of who made it.  My dear, fun, and funny Great-aunt Jeannette fashioned the first, but a potter at the famous British company Burgess & Leigh crafted the second. The value lies not in the creation but in the creator.   

Be content with God’s creation, and stop craving change.  This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be the best we can be in appearance or ability (as my college pastor would sometimes say, “A little paint never hurt the old barn!”), but it means that we should cease from constantly comparing ourselves with others we believe are better.  The One who made you fashioned you to fit His purpose and plan, and if He wanted you to be different, He would have designed you that way.  Our continued griping might make God wonder if we doubt His wisdom or resent His authority.

“Why have you made me like this?”  Don’t ask that question in angered resentment.  Instead, ask it in honest submission, and let God show you His answer.

The Reassurance of the Rainbow

“I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.’”  Genesis 9:13

I saw a rainbow this morning, and it wasn’t even raining.  Only a few grey clouds brushed against the high blue canvas, but enough moisture hung around to prism a spectrum of color across the sky.  Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet (thank goodness for Roy G. Biv)—all vivid and intense.  Because I was driving, I tried not to stare but could hardly help myself.  The sight of God’s brilliant promise to always keep His promise was a great way to start the day. 

Every time I see a rainbow, I think about the story—a bad flood, a big boat, smelly animals, and a small family.  Though the scene is often depicted as cute and cuddly, it was actually horrid.  Constant evil and corruption had consumed the thoughts and actions of God’s creation, and He chose to wipe the slate clean and start again(Gen 6:5-12).  The faith of one man kept him and his family afloat as all others gasped their last and sank into a watery grave.  Finally, one year and ten days after God’s judgment began falling, these eight stepped out of the ark onto dry ground. 

The first thing they did was build an altar of gratitude to God.  The smell of their sacrifice was sweet, and God replied with a blessing, a promise, and a sign.  “The Lord blessed Noah and his sons…Then God said to Noah and to his sons, ‘Never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth..I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth’”(Gen 9:8-13). 

God knew the next time the sky turned dark and drops began to fall, Noah’s heart would pound fearfully and his mind would wonder anxiously, “Will it stop or be like before?”   Not wanting His children to live in worry, God calmed them with a covenant that water would ever again wipe away all life on earth.  But when the clouds began to gather, God knew Noah that might feel unsure and insecure, so He sent assurance that “whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember”(Gen9:16).

Never think for a moment that God is the one who needs reminders.  We are, and He graciously obliges in a beautiful way.  The arc of the rainbow reminds us of the ark of salvation—a picture of our own great rescue from death and destruction.  Its myriad of colors causes us to recall the many promises God faithfully keeps without fault or falter.  Almost two thousand years after Noah stood staring into the sky, Joshua stated a truth we can still (and always will) proclaim.  “You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the Lord your God gave you has failed”(Josh 23:14).

Don’t let storm clouds scare you.

We can relax in the rain when we remember the promise.

 

We Remember

“Greater love has no on than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

Today is Memorial Day, and here’s what I remember:

Sitting in the car at the post office when I was three listening to my mom console a grieving mother whose son was MIA in Vietnam.

Standing in a field when I was four watching two US Army airmen being carried in body bags out of the still-smoking wreckage of their plane and thinking, “That’s somebody’s daddy, and he won’t be going home tonight.”

Reading names on a display board at my church when I was eight which was hung during World War II as a prayer list and realizing that the ones I didn’t recognize were the men who didn’t return.

Learning about the Battle of Midway when I was ten while reading a book for my 5^th grade research paper and being sad that all thirty of Torpedo Squadron Eight died except Ensign George Gay.

Finding out when I was twelve that my neighbor’s brother had been killed during the Allied invasion of southern Italy and wondering if he had been a lot like Mr. Theron.

Waiting when I was fourteen to find out if a friend had survived the Beirut Marine barracks bombing and being relieved to know he was ok but grieved to know many others were not.

Walking a calm Omaha Beach in northern France on an overcast June morning when I was twenty and imagining the chaos, the courage, the fear, and the fight which signaled the beginning of the end of the Nazi regime a few decades before.

Staring when I was fourteen “between the crosses row on row” at Arlington Cemetery in D.C., a few years later at the D-Day Cemetery in Normandy, and just last week at the recently opened Sarasota National Cemetery and facing the sobering fact that each marker represents a life who served and sacrificed (many ultimately) for our country.

Standing yesterday and applauding in church as a highly decorated, retired lieutenant colonel led the congregation in a thank you to veterans who lived and a tribute to those who died.

More than all others, Christians should understand and value sacrifice. Because Someone gave His all for us, we experience true and lasting freedom. This perspective makes us appreciate more fully the high cost paid by so many for our country to enjoy national freedom. We would not live like we do if they had not died as they did.

My memories bring mostly second-hand emotion as I wonder how the dying felt and the grieving cried, but for many, and surely some of you, those tears are raw and real and deeply personal. Thank you. Thank you for the sacrifice made by those you love. Since they are no longer here to accept my gratitude, I share it with you and thank God for them.

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!

May God continue to shed His grace on America and may we always remember.

 

Our Share of Salvation

“I wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers.”  Romans 9:3

I have friends I love who are lost.  I think about them, talk with them, and pray for them but must honestly admit that I’m not sure I would swap my salvation for theirs.  Though I know such can’t be so, and the Apostle Paul was aware of the same, his love for the Jewish people—his people—was so intense that he was willing to do just that.  If his damnation meant their freedom, he would have taken the deal. “I wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers”(Rom 9:3).

Wow.  That is strong love.  That is a huge heart.  That is a deep understanding of the treasure of salvation by God and the terror of separation from God.  Paul knew God has a divine plan and sovereign purpose in His dealings with man—the entire chapter is filled with the profound truth of this rich doctrine— but he started the discussion by expressing his honest desire for those he loved to know the Lord. “I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit(Rom 9:1).

Paul was sad that most Jews weren’t saved, and the thought didn’t just cross his mind occasionally; it was on his heart continually.  “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart”(Rom 9:2).  Knowing that others didn’t know Jesus motivated Paul to pass along the Gospel in every way possible and to pray with passion.  “Brothers, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be saved”(Rom 10:1).  And he meant it, so much that if he could have, he would have unselfishly given away his own life in Christ to gain theirs.

I want to love like that.  I want to pray with the same fervency and urgency. And I want a heart willing to sacrifice so others will know Jesus.

We can’t swap our salvation, but we sure can share it. 

And we should—every way we can.

The Light of the Son

I went to the beach Saturday and got sunburned.  While this may not surprise you, I was quite startled at the redness revealed on my return, for except for the few steps from our camper to the coast and a short morning swim in the surf, I spent the entire day cowering under an umbrella.  In fact, I constantly repositioned my chair to ensure that all of me stayed in the shade.  And yet, in spite of my best efforts, my skin soaked up lots of sun.

My current discomfort is a constant reminder of the might of our nearest and dearest star.  Its rays are so powerful and intense that their mere reflection makes a major difference, and even those seeking shade end up affected.  I do find it ironic that the very object I worked so hard to avoid was the actual reason I was able to experience and enjoy the day.  The sun provided light so the beach and its beauty could be seen.  Its rays brought welcome warmth which chased away the cloudy sky and the chilly air.  Its energy gave food to the sea grapes, sea oats, and the not-so-native Australian pines I watched in the breeze.  Even though I tried to shun the sun directly, I desired its benefits and blessings, and I could not elude its effects.

The obvious analogy can’t be lost—even in layers of aloe.  The Son is very powerful, all-powerful, actually, and His power gives us life and sustains our very existence.   “In him all things were created..and in him all things hold together”(Col 1:16-17).  He is the light that “shines in the darkness”(John 1:5) and reveals the beauty of the Father and of His creation.  “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being”(Heb 1:3).  It is His energy which works inside of us(Col 1:29).  It is His appearance that chases away the gloom of sin and the chill of death, and it is His light that brightens our way and shows us His path.  “For the sunrise from on high has come to us from heaven, to shine on those living in the darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the path of peace(Luke 1:78-79). 

The Son’s light is now shining in the lives of those who are His, “for God who made light shine out of darkness has made his light shine in our hearts”(2 Cor 4:6).  As children of light we are to live reflecting His glory, goodness, and grace, “for the fruit of the light consist in all goodness, righteousness, and truth”(Eph 5:9).  Sadly, many people are a lot like I was on Saturday—wanting to experience and enjoy the Son’s benefits and blessings while avoiding direct contact, and they go to great lengths to stay in the shade.  But they cannot, for the power of God is so prevalent and so potent that all are affected by His light and His might.  For some, His presence is painful because their cold, hard hearts will never receive the warmth of His love, but for others, His light is pleasant and precious and is our only source of joy and hope.   

The Son is forever shining.  Soak in Him, share Him, and don’t get discouraged when those around you seek the shade.  Your reflection of His brightness will affect them even if they’re trying to avoid the light.

Trust me—but don’t touch me—I know. 

 

Choreography Worth Copying

“Follow my example as I follow the example of Christ.” 1 Corinthians 1:11

I spent Saturday evening at a dance recital and was thoroughly entertained and amused.  Besides seeing my own children toe and twirl across the stage (beautifully and gracefully, I might add—without inheriting any such ability from their mother, I must add), my favorite part was watching the preschool and kindergarten students.

Their performances were mostly the same.  More than several small children filed onto the stage, dressed in adorable outfits, smiling, giggling, squinting in the lights, and waving to their moms.  They positioned themselves in two lines, not necessarily described as straight, and waited for the music to start.  When the tune began, so did the routine.  Most of the girls confidently executed the first few measures, but as the song progressed, the dancing regressed, and only a few knew for sure what the next move should be.  The rest resorted to “copy my neighbor” choreography. 

This method works fine as long as the girl beside you gets it right, but if the one you’re imitating is tapping when you should be twirling or skipping when you should be standing still, your entire dance ends up in jumbled disarray.    

Such a performance is cute with little kids but not with big Christians, and yet we sometimes find ourselves unsure of our next move and desperately hoping that the person we’re copying is getting it right.  It’s not wrong to look over or up to those who are faithfully following our Leader.  The Bible is filled with real life examples worth imitating, and quite often the pew behind us and the pulpit up front are full of the same.  How my life has been blessed, guided, and encouraged by men and women who have modeled what it means to love Jesus supremely and to love others unselfishly.  It’s ok to copy; just make sure the ones you’re watching are dancing to God’s rhythm—not a half beat behind or whole step back.

The Apostle Paul, realizing the need and benefit of right-beside-you examples, instructed those he knew to “follow my example as I follow the example of Christ”(1 Cor 1:11), and we should be able to tell others the same.  The dance of life is filled with delights, difficulties, and distractions.  Sometimes the bright lights are blinding.  Sometimes we get too focused on the crowd.  Occasionally we haven’t been listening closely enough to our Instructor, and often we’ve been skipping practice.  We all need the dancers beside us to know the right moves and to make them, and we need to remember that they need the same from us, too.  When we follow Christ together, “copy my neighbor” choreography creates a beautiful recital of His grace and His love, and our lives become a stunning performance of His power, purpose, and plan.

Don’t be scared of the stage.  Listen to the Teacher, stand by those who know the dance, and help each other make the right moves.  That’s choreography worth copying.

 

My Mother

At 11 o’clock today, a friend is burying her mom, and I’ve been thinking about mine.   Probably a good time to do so, since Sunday is officially Mother’s Day, but even if it weren’t, the lady who gave me life and filled it with love should definitely be honored. 

She’s really neat—my mom.  She is talented, patient, caring, and kind.  She is not easily angered—in fact, she’s hardly ever angered, and only seldom frustrated or irritated.  She is diligent, industrious, and rarely rests.   She cooks well, teaches well, listens well, and loves well.  I know this by experience, for I ate three meals a day for twenty years at her table, learned to read and write from her tutelage, spent many hours talking her ears off myself and lots of others seeing her share the concerns of others on the phone, in the living room, even at the grocery store.  (Somehow her face must say, “Tell me your problems,” for countless people have done so and have been helped by her counsel and care.)  My mom has more mercy than her three children combined and is kind to a fault.

My mom could never be a spy because she is a dreadful liar and can hardly bring herself to tell untruths even when they are shrouding a surprise.  (Even then, you can see straight through her duplicity, but such purity of heart is a beautiful thing.)   However, though she was a home economics teacher, then missionary, then amazing mom/church leader/Bible study teacher/best every Friday PTO hot dog server ever, closely watching her speedometer on Sunday mornings would inform you that a career as a race car driver is not totally out of the question—though she has no trail of speeding tickets to back up this premise for what policeman can bring himself to write up such an honest face??

Throughout the decades of my life, my mom has calmed me when I was scared, encouraged me when I was down, cheered for me when I tried and succeeded or tried and failed, helped me with my problems (from personal dilemmas to a soup that’s too salty), and shared the tears of my broken heart.  She always said that my siblings and I belonged to God who had given us to her as a trust, and she would do all she could to support God’s plans for our lives.  This belief was put to the test many times as she watched us board planes, trains, and automobiles to various destinations around the continent and globe on mission trips and other exciting adventures.  Her eyes would fill with tears as she waved goodbye and sparkle with joy when her strong hug heralded our safe return.

Though she is good at many things, my mom is best at loving—loving God, loving our dad, and loving us.  Her real-life relationship with Jesus and her close friendship with Him never left room for me to wonder if all this “God-stuff” might not be true.  My parent’s lives are the authentication of God’s all mighty presence and His power.  She adores my father and has showered him with love and respect for over half a century, and she has selflessly and unconditionally loved her kids.  Heaven only knows the many hours of prayer she has lifted on our behalf, and without a doubt, none of us would be who or where we are today had she not been constantly faithful to God and our family.

Every time I eat fried chicken I think of my mom and how she always took two pieces—the neck and the back.  (Some of you didn’t even know those were parts of the bird for the Colonel does not include them in his 8 or 10 piece buckets, but when you are from the South and you actually cut up and cook the chicken yourself, those pieces end up on the platter—as well as the pulley bone, but that’s for another time!)  When we would vainly attempt to get her to take a more meaty piece, she always replied that those were her favorites, but now that I’m a mom, I know better.  And I know the truth—she really wasn’t lying, for any sacrifice she made to give the best to those she loved the best made even a bony and barely-there cut of meat the one she desired the most.

I realize I am incredibly blessed to have shared so many years and so many wonderful times with my mom.  I know that we will spend forever together in heaven, and for that I am unexplainably grateful, but while we are still here on earth, I plan on making the most of every day—especially this Mother’s Day.  I think we’ll have fried chicken, and I think I’ll be the one who picks out her piece!

I love you, Mother!!  Lots!