Be Still

"He says, 'Be still, and know that I am God,'" -- Psalm 46:10

We recently had a terrible storm. It woke us up in the wee hours of the morning that can technically still be called night. But it was not the booming thunder or the sizzling lightening that woke us up -- it was the overwhelming loudness of the quiet, non-powered house. Our power was out. No ceiling fan whirled above our bed, no CPAP machine made its little whirring noise on my husband's nose, no refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. And the loudness of that echoed in our ears.

We are told in Scripture to "be still," and know that He is God...yet we find this to be so very difficult, to the point that we are disturbed by the absolute quiet of the absence of power. Being still is difficult for infant, child, teen and adult alike.

When we are faced with the opportunity to be quiet, and still, and to focus on God, our mind wanders to seven different to-do lists. Why is this? What is it about being still and quiet that makes us quake in our squeaky sneakers and fidget? Must we have the loudest ring tone on our phone? Must we apply every little noise to every little action on our computers?

The only saving grace in this is we're not alone. No one likes quiet. Ask any parent what "quiet" means and they will tell you that children are up to no good. The Christian walk is not easy, nor is it intended to be. The path is narrow, not wide. In order to be an effective Christian, we have to turn down the volume of stuff, of voices around us, of to-do lists and madness and chaos in our lives, and seek out His face.

Have you ever simply asked God to help you focus on Him? Have you asked Him to help you to be quiet and study the Scriptures? In this fast-paced, mad world we live in, slowing down and simplifying our lives to the point that we cut out all the junk, turn off the TV, and focus on the good things of God, is almost against the nature of society. But isn't that what Christians are supposed to do? Leaving the world behind, and focusing on the things of God?

Trimming the day's activities to fit in a quiet time to be alone with God is backwards. We should work the day's activities around a quiet time to be alone with God. Tithing time is as important as reaching for the checkbook every Sunday.

Close your eyes, think on God's Person, and simply pray, without checking your watch, worrying, or wondering what that noise is....it will still be there. "Be here now," and enjoy the quiet stillness of peace that being with God provides.

Amen.

Storms of Life

Many times life-storms pop up unexpectedly -- a sudden illness, overwhelmed by the busy-ness of life, financial issues, terminal disease, a personal tragedy. It does seem to pile on. During some of these storms we experience the very power and presence of God -- how comforting that is!

Sometimes, though, just when we feel like we need an extra measure of God's presence, why does it seem like we're praying to a wall? We pray and pray and enlist others for prayer, and still we ask -- where is God? Is God on vacation during this most difficult of personal trials? Is He asleep at the wheel? Where was God during that time?

The disciples certainly felt like that -- there they were, on a boat in the middle of the lake when suddenly a furious storm popped up. Jesus was in the boat, but asleep. How many times have we found ourselves screaming, "Lord, save us! We're going to drown in this sea of debt! We're going to die! We're going to divorce! We're going to lose our job, our house!"

There was no shrill panic in Jesus' voice as He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?"

You see, we may not sense Christ's tangible presence in our lives at times, during storms of life. But for followers of Jesus, He is still in the boat. It is up to us as believe in His power and presence not based on our personal feelings, but based on His perfect promises. "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age," Jesus said [Matthew 28:20b].

So -- what do we do? When we get bombarded by the storms of life -- a sudden summer thunderstorm or a Category 5 hurricane -- we don't tell our God how big the storm is. We tell the storm how big our God is. We pray -- not for His presence which is already there -- but for the peace that passes all understanding, a peace that only Christ can provide, and for clarity and a sense of His perfect will in whatever decisions need to be made.

Christ sometimes shields His presence from us for one purpose -- to make us hunger for it all the more, for us to realize we cannot do this alone. We cannot go through these storms by ourselves. We need Christ. Faith is about having the good sense to know that even if we cannot feel His presence, He's still in power and control. There is peace in God's will and presence.

Do not be afraid. Christ is still on the boat.

Watches of the Night

Four o'clock in the morning. That's what the clock said. I know that for a fact, because I was awake at that time. Worry gripped my heart like a quarterback grips a football. It seems that in the quiet darkness of the night that problems loom larger, fears overtake us, and the enemy prowls around, making our hearts pitter and jump at normal house-settling sounds.

It's at these times that we are called to prayer. The Bible speaks of the "watches of the night." Biblical historians point out that in Old Testament times there were three watches in the which the time between sunseet and sunrise were divided, so watchmen could relieve each other from keeping a close eye to the approach of enemies. In New Testament times the watches were extended to four, probably thanks to the Romans.

Psalm 63:6 states, "On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night." The author David had his share of sleepless nights, laying awake looking in the darkness for men trying to kill him. How often do we lie awake, pondering issues and working problems around in our heads like some sort of brain clay? What to do, what to do?

"Arise, cry out in the night, as the watches of the night begin; pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord," writes the author of Lametations (2:19). Do we not wrestle with our fears like Jacob wrestled with the Lord? Will we fall lame from the wrestling? Or at least wake in the morning carrying the weight on our shoulders as the bags under our eyes?

I have found that it at times like these, instead of giving more power to the enemy by waking me up and reminding me of my shortcomings, fears, failures, unpaid bills, and my deepest, darkest screts -- I do what Jesus told every person he healed that was laying on a mat: "Get up." Instead of giving the enemy more power, I have learned that it is during the watches of the night that Jesus, my Protector and Shield Who never sleeps, wishes to have a moment of uninterrupted quiet time with me.

So, Bible in hand, I creep through the darkened house and sit in a comfortable sofa, say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening...." and I pray. I pray for all the things that were keeping me awake, all my fears and worries, and more often than not, Jesus touches my need and blesses me with an answer or two or four. The biggest blessing is in the quiet time, in the still of the night, with my Lord.

Then, after deep breaths and a smile on my face, I close my Bible, creep back to bed, and sleep with the peace that passes all understanding -- all because of fellowship with Christ during the watches of the night.

The Toolbox

I tried using a table knife. While the blade fit nicely into the flat-head screw slot, the handle didn't offer enough torque. I sat on the kitchen floor, looking at the cabinet door. It hung precariously by the bottom hinge, oddly off-kilter.

I felt like that cabinet door. My back aching from sitting on the floor, I carefully stood up. I had had back surgery for a catastrophic herniated disk, just three weeks before. I was due to go back to work the next week and wanted to get a few projects done around the house while I still had time and energy. That had been the plan, anyway, until two weeks earlier, I told my abusive husband he had to go. He had refused to do anything to help me or our two boys after the back surgery, which was a result of him throwing me to the kitchen floor in a rage. After praying and mustering up all the faith and fearless power the Holy Spirit afforded me, I finally gathered the nerve up and told him to leave, ending years of abuse and mistreatment of myself and the boys. On Ash Wednesday. Most people just give up chocolate for Lent.

But there I was, stretching my back out in the kitchen and looking at this lopsided cabinet door. "Tools," I said aloud. The ex had acquired custody of all the tools. I got the boys and the house -- he had put up more resistance about the house. But nary a tool to be found.

A thought echoed through my mind, bouncing off brain stem and nodules until it rested squarely on the Cliff of a Hallelujah Chorus-sized Revelation. "I need a toolbox," I said aloud, walking to the computer to check the bank account online. This action, too, was a new-found source of power. Before, money management was something my ex and I never practiced. I tried, but because of the criticism, I stopped. That became a recurrent theme -- criticize me to the point where I cry for trying, and I'll give up. But, according to Paul, God "did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline." The abuse I had mistakenly taken for mental illness instead of what it was: mean-spiritedness, had ripped every bit of self-esteem off my delicate shoulders and left in its place a shell of a woman, hollow, but ripe for Christ to plant His fearlessness, His power, His love, and His determination to see this thing through.

The bank statement checked out okay. I gathered my keys and purse and left the house, knowing I needed to pick up the boys from school in about four hours -- plenty of time to do what I needed to do. I drove to a discount store and felt absolutely invigorated by my purposeful action to buy a toolbox. My purse in the cart, I navigated the buggy to the hardware aisle. I examined each empty plastic box as though I was checking for nutritional facts. I finally chose one with a small lid that covered the top part, full of compartments, but then had another lock for the larger inside space. A lift-out cubby completed the ensemble.

Next, I chose the tools. With the Scripture verse in my mind for some reason, "Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand," I chose the tools with a purpose: a screwdriver set with various sizes of Phillips and flat heads; a hammer; wrench; a tape measure. I put the tape measure back, thought that was silly. I chose a variety of screws and nails. After I had placed all this in the buggy, I felt a sense of peace that passed all understanding. I felt like Jesus the Carpenter, the Creator of the Universe, was standing there, choosing the tools with me, felt Him grip the hammer, sizing it up.....

I called my Dad that night. Daddy was in construction and understood the importance of tools, obviously; they were his livelihood. I told him, "I bought a toolbox today and tools to go in it..." and told him all about my purchases and the tape measure I put back. He was quiet as he listened and finally said, "I'm proud of you for taking your life back." That weekend he and Mom came for a visit; Daddy presented me with a gift of a tape measure. He said, "How do you know where you've been -- if you can't measure and track it?"

In choosing that toolbox and the tools to go inside it, God empowered me with a sense that I can do all things through Him. Armed with the right set of tools -- prayer, fellowship with other believers, Bible time, and giving Him all the credit -- there was nothing I could not do, including fixing the cabinet door.