Flies

“In that day the Lord will whistle for flies from the distant streams of Egypt and for bees from the land of Assyria.  They will all come and settle in the steep ravines and in the crevices, in the rocks, on all the thornbushes and at all the water holes.” Isaiah 7:18-19

When I was a teenager, my family and I lived on thirteen acres of land. We grew most of the vegetables that we ate, and raised chickens. Chickens and cats. I had at one time, fourteen cats, in a pride made up primarily of females and their young. Tomcats would just wander away, looking for females.

Once, one of the kittens contracted feline leukemia. We took him to the vet but to no avail. This terrible disease ravished the young one’s body but still, he hung on. I can’t for the life of me remember his name. But I do remember the flies that would torment this dying kitten. They were big yucky things with turquoise-colored bodies. And on the day the kitten died, but before he struggled with his last breath, the flies were ruthless and relentless as they attacked his body.

I asked my dad about the flies. He said that the flies somehow know when death is approaching, and they swarm the dying animal. It’s a sign, he said, that death is near. He said it was one of those difficult life-lessons one must remember.

The problem is, I forgot.

Until March 12, 2006.

My dad had been diagnosed with lung and brain cancers (two primary cancers) six months prior, right after he and Mom moved in with me and my two boys, eight months after I had separated from my then-husband. It was a time of upheaval and transitions. That weekend, I had come home from work on Friday with a temperature. I stayed in bed most of the weekend, not feeling well. Rooms would spin around if I walked. On the beautiful afternoon of March 12, all the windows were open, letting the warm breezes of an early spring in. I eventually got out of bed and watched tv in the living room.

Mom asked me to take the trash out. I opened the sliding glass door to the backyard, holding the full trashbag, to put it in the trash container. As I did this, I noticed that the wall of the back of the house was swarming with…flies. Big, yucky, turquoise-colored flies. I looked to see what, if anything, could be attracting them to brick. There was nothing. They only swarmed on the right side of the house, the side that Mom and Dad’s room was on.

Suddenly, it all came back to me as though it was a sci-fi effect from a movie. The kitten. The flies. “It’s a sign,” Dad had said, more than twenty years prior, “that death is near.”

Immediately, I went to Dad’s hospital bed in his bedroom. We talked. I asked him important questions like “Are you proud of me?” and “Do you have any regrets?” We talked for at least two hours, and watched a television preacher besides. Two hours later, at eight o’clock, my Daddy died.

After the Hospice nurse had left and the funeral home men had come for his body, I went out on the deck to talk on the phone. As I walked to the end of the deck, then turned around, I dropped the phone: there were no flies. The flies were all gone.

I immediately praised God. He made that little kitten sick, so that Daddy and I could have a seemingly gross and circle-of-life kindof talk that could have been easily dismissed. He made that little kitten sick to bring the flies, so that I would have a sign, from God, that death would visit my home on March 12, 2006. He made that little kitten sick, and brought the flies, and made the flies swarm just one side of my house, so that I would know to get some very important issues square with Dad. God had used flies to tell me that Daddy would soon be with Him.

God can use anything, and most often does, to guide us – if, and only if – we have the opened Spirit eyes to see it for what it is: a sign of mercy from a merciful God.

© 2012 Terrie McKee

Contentment

“But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.” 1 Timothy 6:6-8

My husband and I have a large, blended family. His, mine, our’s. I have two boys from my first marriage, husband has a girl by his first marriage, and together we have a precocious, in-to-everything, two-and-a-half year old girl. All this, in a three-bedroom, two-bath, 1200 square feet ranch one-story.

Oh how I dream of a bigger house!

My dream house in on sale right now. Five bedrooms. Family room, formal parlor, formal dining room, playroom, swimming pool, one acre, workshops for the husband’s avid woodworking hobby – even a building outside for a much-coveted depot for model trains. A claw-foot, soaking tub in the master bedroom. And, blessed assurance – an actual, honest-to-goodness laundry room instead of a laundry closet. All this for so much more money than we could possibly obtain via a mortgage loan.

But that doesn’t stop this stay-at-home-mom-of-four from dreaming. In my dreams we host the entire church for a swimming and ice cream social. We host the youth group. We open our doors to the neighborhood for Bible studies. Everyone has their own room and their own space. We have a large Christmas get-together with our respective families. And, in my dreams, I write manuscripts that the nice FedEx man picks up at my door on the way to the publisher. His name is Dave. Ah, the things I could do in this house….

The Lord convicted me one night, though, when I was doing my nightly Bible reading and “happened” across this passage from 1 Timothy: “But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that” (6:6-8). Ouch. I had been breaking a Big Ten: covetousness, in my dreams, even as I was not being grateful for the 1,200 square feet of closeness for my family.

In an economy in which so many are losing their homes, I was not being content with what I have: a solid roof over my head (thank you, hail storm 2011 and the subsequent new roof), warmth in the wintertime and coolness in the summer, and food on the table, even if it is rice and beans sometimes.

And, the Lord reminded me, “Why can’t you do Bible studies in your home now?” I reminded the good Lord of the horrible carpet stains (four children, remember, who are all clumsy while walking with sodas and juice), the sofa that has lost all sense of support and also covered in stains (four children), and the tight living room/dining room/kitchen “open floor plan” (which is house code for “if one of those areas are cluttered, the whole room is cluttered”).

Again, the Lord said, “Why can’t you do Bible studies in your home now?” while planting in my brain the understanding that Paul, while writing this passage about contentment to Timothy, was in prison, and not just visiting. Prison trumps stained carpet any day of the week. How dare I remind the good Lord (as though He needed reminding) about the carpet, or sofa, or whatever excuse I could come up with?

So, after asking forgiveness from Jesus about not being content and drooling over The Cottage, as I called my dream home, I’ve been trying to take extra care in cleaning my home, blessing my family, and shining the Light of Christ from inside. I’m planning on opening our doors to other stay-at-home moms in the neighborhood for a Christmas Bible study in the near future. I believe God will bless these actions. Maybe not with a new, larger house. TV home improvement shows may not show up in our driveway with bullhorns and plans to renovate. But He will bless our home with love, with closeness, with food and clothing, and with a laundry closet, instead of a laundry room that would be yet another room to clean. He will bless our home with Himself, which, after all, is the best blessing of all.

© 2012 Terrie McKee

 

 

 

 

Poured Out

“ The LORD said to Moses, “Speak to the Israelites and say to them: 'After you enter the land I am giving you as a home and you present to the LORD offerings made by fire, from the herd or the flock, as an aroma pleasing to the LORD --whether burnt offerings or sacrifices, for special vows or freewill offerings or festival offerings -- then the one who brings his offering shall present to the LORD a grain offering of a tenth of an ephah of fine flour mixed with a quarter of a hin of oil. With each lamb for the burnt offering or the sacrifice, prepare a quarter of a hin of wine as a drink offering.” Numbers 15:1-5

In Old Testament times, the drink offering was always poured out onto the altar as a sacrifice to God in addition to the sacrificed animals and grain offerings. The drink offering was always a quarter of a hin of wine, presented to God “as an aroma pleasing to the Lord.” This was not to be drank by the priests, but to be poured out, as God’s drink with the sacrifice.

Sacrifices of animals, grain and wine – the essential building blocks of a Hebrew diet – remind us that everything is God’s. He blesses us with meat, vegetables, and the water we drink. He provides the skills, education and where-with-all to earn money, to provide for our families. All belongs to Him.

Even our very lives belong to Him. We are not our own. In addition to time, talents and treasure, we are to pour out our very lives, die to ourselves, and give God all of us. This act of giving God our very beings and living for Christ – no matter the cost – is also an aroma pleasing to God.

As we live our lives for Him, He blesses us in ways we cannot begin to imagine. It may not be with material possessions, or money, but it will be with things so much more priceless: the peace that passes all understanding, the joy of our salvation, the knowledge that we are close to Him. Being called “a child of the King” is blessing enough. Knowing Christ intercedes for my behalf and knows me by name, is blessing enough.

Living our lives, poured out as a drink offering, means giving God all of us. Paul wrote from prison, “For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” [2^nd Timothy 4:6-7]. Paul suffered much as an apostle: floggings, imprisonment, stonings, betrayal. Through all these persecutions, he lived his life poured out for God. He recognized his time to be with the Lord was so near he could taste it. He was willing to give all, to be poured out as a drink offering, as an aroma pleasing to the Lord, for Christ.

Christ did the same for us. “Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.” [John 19:34]. Jesus poured out Himself, to save us from sin. How much more should we give our whole lives to Him, not just a tenth?

 

(c) 2012 Terrie McKee

More Than Conquerers

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:35-39

Sometimes, in the strangest of places and times, I reflect on what has happened in my life. This was true yesterday on the way home from church. I don't know why I started looking back, but that act of looking in the rear-view mirror has stuck with me for a good 24 hours now.

If I looked at this chronologically, I would have to say that 18 and a half years ago I got married, and seven and half years ago, that marriage ended, but not without having two boys, and definitely not without scars. To this day I cannot look my ex-husband in the eyes without feeling uneasiness and fear: fear of being yelled at, fear of being hit, fear of being abused in so many ways. Forgiving him is an almost daily occurance. I will say this: forgiveness should never make the forgiver a doormat, and its not a blank check for the forgivee to do whatever he wanted....again....and again....and again. I forgive him [daily] so I won't be held hostage by feelings and fears. Forgiveness is up to me, and frankly, only through Jesus Christ; repentance is up to the ex, and so far, that hasn't happened.

Eighteen years ago, I gave birth to a son. When he was just 17 days old, he would refuse to be comforted, acting like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. As he grew older, I noticed he was overly fascinated by whirling ceiling fans and obsessively placing toys in orderly lines -- but not playing with them. I learned, through Sam, to trust my mother's instinct: he was diagnosed with ADHD at age four, seizures at age six and a few months later, with high functioning autism. This is what having a child with autism means: You constantly fight battles that parents of typically-developed kids battle, but with twists. "Puberty" takes on a whole other level of fears, doubts and interestingly sick conversations. Sex ed? With a kid who, if I talk about gardening, makes him want to go plant a tree? With a kid who, if I talk about zoos, will want to go to a zoo? Having a child with autism means constantly grieving for the kid he could have been while, at the same time, celebrating accomplishments and milestones that typically-developing kids' parents merely acknowledge with a nodding of the head. Having a child who was diagnosed with autism 12 years ago means for the last 12 years you communicate and interact with his teachers on astounding levels, challenging them to challenge him; putting goals in his IEP for things like counting money, making change, acting appropriately in certain social situations -- only to have to raise the white flag of surrender when he is 18 to declare him incompetent, so you, the woman who spent 30 hours in labor with said child, can legally become his guardian to ensure he will make the right decisions regarding his healthcare, his education, his finances, his life.

People sometimes tell me, "God wouldn't give you a special child if He didn't think you were a special parent." Well I must be pretty special: four children, one with autism, one with severe ADHD, one with diabetes, and a two year old. Precocious two year olds are their own breed with their own special needs. So, while I politely smile and say "I guess" to those people, inside I'm screaming "HOGWASH!" to them. God has used these children to teach me, not the other way around. I am blessed by them; I hope and pray I am a blessing to them.

God has blessed me with a second (and final, last marriage) to my best friend and soul mate. This is also his second marriage too. God has used this second-marriage-for-both-of-us to give us opportunities to learn from past mistakes. Communication between the two of us is extremely valuable because neither of us had good communication in our first marriages.

When I look back on the last years, I am in awe at how God's hand has guided this ship of my life. I believe the night that my ex told me to choose between Jesus and him -- that was a watershed moment in my walk of faith as a believer married to an unbeliever. I chose Jesus -- and the ex walked out. I believe that when I chose Jesus, Jesus has honored and blessed that with the knowledge that the Romans 8 passage provides. Nothing can separate us from the Love of Christ. Not divorce, not abuse, not autism, not fibromyalgia, not migraines, not the death of a parent.

We become more than conquerers when we hold up the Banner of Christ and plant it on the firm soil of a rock-solid faith. We become more than conquerers by telling the storms of our lives how BIG our God is -- not by giving in to Satan's whispers that our storms are too big for our God. We become more than conquerers by having Christ, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Lion of Judah, fight our battles, like the passage from 2 Chronicles 20:17 states: "You do not have to fight this battle. Position yourselves, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord. He is with you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid or discouraged. Tomorrow, go out to face them, for the Lord is with you."

In looking back, I praise God for hemming me in behind and before. In looking forward to what is in store for me and mine, I know, based on God's faithfulness in our past, that He will be faithful in the future. And surely, tomorrow, I will go out to face anything that God has in store, for the Lord is with me.

Praises to His name.

(C) 2012 Terrie McKee

Do Not Lose Heart: A Devotional of Chronic Pain

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." [2nd Corinthians 4:16-20]

"Take two aspirin and call me in the morning." This commercial little mantra has often been spoken as a way of sympathy for people who are in physical pain. For people who suffer day in and day out with chronic pain, however, such trite comments hurt.

I have suffered from migraines and hypoglycemia since I was six years old. Two herniated discs that called for two major back surgeries, a bulging disc, intense muscle spasms and degenerative disc disease, and severe osteoarthritis in my left knee and all throughout my spinal column -- all that plus fibromyalgia and irritable bowel syndrome keep me more than humble. Physical issues make everyday life just plain hard. I pray sometimes for God to heal me -- so I can sit at the computer and not have my knee in excruciating pain, so I can write and encourage others in His name. Just as Paul had his thorn in the flesh, people like myself -- sufferers of chronic pain -- have to deal with so much just to make it through the day. Every day is a struggle.

As much as my body hurts, the pain draws me closer to reading the Word and praying to God. Though my body is in bad need of an overhaul, it is no small joy to know that an Upgrade will happen one day. Paul writes in 2nd Corinthians, "Therefore do not lose heart." For people who have accepted Christ as Savior, they have no cause to lose heart, though they have mountains of prescriptions on the countertop and doctor visits every other week. Those Christians do not lose heart, for these broken-down bodies are only rental units. There will be a time when we get to trade them in for a Christ-built Resurrection Body, empty of arthritis, migraines, multiple sclerosis, cancer and depression.

But we can have a bit of the Kingdom here. Despite the hurdles chronic pain can daily through our way, for Christians, there is hope and witness here. Non-Christians watch us closely -- much like Job's friends and wife did. "Curse God and die," they said. When Christians, who have the mind of Christ, live as though they are already test-driving the Resurrection Body, filled with a deep and irrepressible joy that can only come from a relationship with Christ -- they become powerful testimonies that chronic pain is "achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all."

Second Corinthians 1:3 states, "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort." This comfort God provides may come in the form of a get-well card, or a meal provided by a friend -- but it is so much more than that. God IS the Comfort. When we turn our eyes away from the pain and dive into His Word, when we go to Him in prayer for others, when we worship Him in gratitude and love -- He reveals Himself to be much more than the Provider of Comfort. He IS the Comfort.

So what do we fix our eyes on that is unseen? That is Jesus Christ, presenting us with a Resurrection Body, to be able to worship Him on bended knees that don't crack and pop with shooting pain. We fix our eyes on Jesus. We deal with the pain but don't dwell on the pain and we are not defined by the pain. We are defined by Jesus Christ. Who we are in Him is so much more than our earthly bodies can provide.

These are but temporary housing units, shells of what will be received. God promises us as much. "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future [Jeremiah 29:11]. The bodies He has planned for us in eternity are so much better than what we can even imagine. Our role, then, until Jesus calls us home, is to not lose heart, to keep our eyes focused on Him, and to live as walking testimonies to His glory, power and comfort.

Peace.

(c) 2012 Terrie McKee

Commission, Promise, Worship

"Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume." [John 12:3 NIV]

Moses climbed Mt. Sinai, only to stumble upon a bush that was on fire but not consumed. He did not encounter a freak act of nature, but had an encounter with The Living God, who promptly told Moses to remove the sandals from his feet for he was standing on holy ground.

God told Moses that He had in fact seen the misery of His people, who were in bondage. "So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt" When Moses, apparently doing a double take, asks the immortal "Why me?" question, God emphatically delivers a Promise and a sign: "I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain [Exodus 3:10-12].

Fast forward a few centuries to a similar mountain. Jesus had just risen from the dead, the Victor over death, and was giving last-minute instructions to his disciples: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age" [Matthew 28:19-20].

The same Commission and the same Promise: Go, share the Gospel message which will deliver people from sin's bondage, and the Promise to be with us always. A bold commission, and an equally bold promise, with a Glorious Sign: the knowledge that Christ is waiting for us, at the end of the age, where we will worship Him unfettered by sin's grasp, where we dare to raise our holy hands in praise of Him and in worship.

Like Mary, Christ-centered Christians are not afraid of what others think. Mary poured the oil over Jesus' feet in an unfettered, unhindered, uncontrolled act of worship. It is only when we have been touched by Christ that the Real Act of Worship can begin. We have to be brought out of Egypt to the Mountain of God in order to appreciate what God has done in our lives: Deliverance. And only then can worship be unhindered, free and centered on Christ. We are then on a mission: to share the Gospel with others. May we pray that we do so with unfettered hearts, praiseful hands, and prayer-bruised knees.

(C) 2012 Terrie McKee