I Love to Write!

A TRIBUTE

Happy I Love to Write Day!

Before I fully absorbed the fact that LMNOP wasn’t a letter in the alphabet, I longed to write. I wanted to play Scrabble with my mother. I associated “Scrabble” with “scribble,” and so I scribbled all over the board.

“Mommy, is CDBBBA a word? How about DDDDOIHHHI?”

What a patient mother I had! She interrupted her sewing again. “You can’t have three of the same letters in a row,” she explained.

Mother’s love of reading was subjugated to my own for years. During my monthly earache/strep throat episodes, we’d curl up together. “Read more, Mommy!”

She grew hoarse and I finally fell asleep.

She started with the Little Golden Books and didn’t finish until the last page of The Lord of the Rings.

My cousin Glendys was another willing reader. On a recent visit, I pulled down my old copy of Heidi, scribbled on with red Magic Marker. We enjoyed chatting about that wonderful book we’d shared. In the decades since, like Heidi, I learned to love goat cheese. Glendys confessed she hates it, just like Heidi’s boarding school classmates did.

Much of what we learn about writing–the love of words and the knack of transporting someone off the page to another world–comes from reading. My third-grade teacher, Laura Wright, helped me find books I could identify with while continuing to grow as a reader. Laura Ingalls Wilder filled my days: inside, I’d read; outside, my best friend, Christy, and I would play “Little House.” I was usually the teacher in the one-room schoolhouse. (Teaching in my own one-room school is one professional goal I have yet to fulfill.)

Mrs. Wright also encouraged my writing. My first “published” poem, posted on the bulletin board (probably along with several other students’ work) was The Hunter. I knew nothing about hunting–or deer (except wide-eyed Bambi). “Kindness came to him as his finger left the trigger” is the sole quotable line from this poem. Editor’s note: change “as” to “and.”

Living in Virginia destined me to love history. Mrs. Sally Alne had drafted me to write the history play Ghosts! Ghosts! Ghosts! in fifth grade, so George Washington was hardly a stranger. One Sunday when I was twelve, we set off for Pohick Church, one of several churches he frequented.

“Would you like to sit in George Washington’s pew?” asked the usher.

“Of course!”

What an honor! We settled into our first president’s box, surrounded like eggs in a very large carton by Episcopalians who knew their way around the prayer book and hymnal. All we could do was huddle low on the floor of our pew as we fumbled through the books, trying not to disturb the worshipers with our helpless giggles.

After the service and a stroll through the graveyard, I had enough material to fuel the historical novel I planned to write on our newly-acquired used typewriter.

Sadly, I didn’t learn to type until ninth grade.

I escaped having teachers who loved to bleed red ink on my writing. (I do regret the gallons of ink I spilled on my French students’ papers. The urge to encourage and the pursuit of perfection don’t mix.) Nothing can compare with the freedom to play with words and discover your own voice.

I thank God that I was in my thirties before I received a harsh critique from someone whose work I admired.

It only set me back a decade or two.

Now I am surrounded by encouragers and honest, helpful critics–fellow authors, critique partners, and editor.

Providentially, I have landed here, reminding myself yet again of my love, despite the battle to write.

Playing with my memories, and not too concerned that someone will miss seeing my tongue, deliberately planted in cheek.

Prayed for–eons ago by grandmothers and mother, and even now by faithful warriors.

Grateful for those who nurtured my love of words.

Wordstruck.

So thankful that God lets me write for Him.

Endless Conversations

When my college roommate and I manage to arrange a date for lunch together, it’s never soon enough. Anticipation builds long before the day arrives. By the time I reach the designated restaurant and we’re finally face-to-face, words tumble out. Sometimes we struggle to take turns talking and listening, but we do it with joy.

What do we talk about? Everything! Our families. What God has been doing in our lives. Stress. Our aches and pains. Our joys. Church. Politics. The food. What’s eating up all our time.  Reminiscences. Hopes. Prayer requests (if we haven’t figured them out by now).

We consult “don’t forget” lists and jot down things to remember to pray about as we talk.

Sometimes, just as we’re getting ready to wind down and pay the check, we veer off on a tangent, reluctant to leave anything out. Occasionally, we have to settle for “remind me to tell you about such and such”… or “I’m going to try and remember to send you that video…”.

It’s messy.

It’s wonderful.

We definitely don’t do it often enough.

Whatever happens, I know I’m loved and that she’ll remember to pray for me, informed by that messy encounter known as fellowship.

I worry less after leaving some of my burdens with this dear friend.

No matter if she forgets half of what I’ve said. The Holy Spirit the third party at our table and heard the prayer that was our messy conversation. That same Spirit will prompt my friend to pray for me when I need it. And nudge me on her behalf, as well.

It’s messy.

It’s wonderful.

Messy and wonderful like my time with Jesus can be.

When I’m with the Lord, a jumble of words can tumble out, and I don’t have to worry about His reaction.

I can talk about anything with Jesus. My family and friends. How I feel about His work in my life. My worries. About getting old. What I’m excited about. Church stuff. Politics. My worries, again! Strength and wisdom to do what I need to do.  The memory prompted by a smell, a sight, or a song. Hopes. All punctuated with occasional “I love You’s.”

It’s wonderful.

And no, it’s not Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.

It’s messy.

Even so, I know He loves to hear my voice, since He’s called me His friend.

I want to cultivate more messy conversations with the Lord.

Yes, I need to work on listening as much as I talk.

I’ll keep talking as I learn to listen.

A Teacher’s Journey: Meet Cassie Franklin

The traditional “Back to School” date is the Tuesday after Labor Day. Although school has already started here in Northern Virginia, my teacher DNA is programmed for tomorrow! Accordingly, it’s time to honor one of my favorite teachers, Cassie Franklin of The Substitute with a re-post. If you haven’t read The Substitute, this is a great time to check it out!

Remember that old saw, “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach”?

Chances are, you’ve been tempted to think that from time to time about a teacher, but probably not often enough to justify the saying. Cassie Franklin, the main character of The Substitute,  deserves a bumper sticker on her car proclaiming, “Those who can, teach.”

I’m proud to introduce Cassie and have you share in her professional and spiritual journey. Here’s a sneak peek at the back cover copy of my latest release, The Substitute.

She has a foolproof recipe for success and even shares it with others.

When her family moves, seasoned home economics teacher Cassie Franklin never dreams she won’t land a job in a school district known for hiring the crème de la crème. But when the first day of school rolls around without an interview, she begins to worry.

A call to substitute at Sully High School just might be her lucky break.

Or not. Sour staff members and a butchered budget sabotage her every move.

Under increasing pressure, Cassie fights to prove she’s still a professional. Can she tweak her cherished formula for success before becoming a total flop?

The Substitute is Book Two in the Sully Parkway series and is best enjoyed after reading Book One, The Jesus Car.

Now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback versions!

The Substitute final ecover

Company Time

Do you have a love/hate relationship with time? I sure do! In the past, I’ve vacillated between boredom and wondering how to “kill” time, or stress and wondering how to “find” more time. When I was growing up, my mother set an excellent example for me. Even when she relaxed, it seemed that she was doing something constructive. She watched TV and ripped wrong stiches out of a dress she was making. She reserved a minuscule amount of time for reading just before going to bed. (I still think reading is more fun when I should be doing something else!) As a teen, I underlined multiple proverbs in my Bible, urging me to be diligent and imitate the busy ant. Mother’s message had reached my brain, although not always to my hands and feet.

By now you’ve probably guessed this post isn’t about having company over for dinner. But it’s not about time management, either. I started to write it in my head during the early months of the pandemic. At first time weighed heavy. With everything moving online, familiar activities such as church, Bible studies, and writers’ groups took less time.

Soon, though, I saw new needs around me and they filled much of that time. That was fine–up to a point. Sometimes they sucked me dry. Why did needs crop up when I felt the most tired?

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t always follow the Holy Spirit’s promptings to respond to needs, although I usually tried.

A couple months ago, though, I just put my feet up and reclined with one basically frivolous mystery after another. For several days. I don’t binge watch TV, but I can binge read with the best of them. “I can do this. I’m retired,” I told myself.

Not!

I’m not retired from Kingdom service. I’m never “off the clock.”

Paul knew the struggle and challenged Timothy, “Never lose your sense of urgency, in season or out of season.” (2 Timothy 4:2, Phillips)

I’m no Paul–not even a Timothy–but their mission is my mission, so I’d often taken the challenge as my own. Now God had given me the chance to experience it on a new level.

I’m never “off the clock.” It’s always “company time.”

I accept the challenge. Lord, may I never lose my sense of urgency!

What about the “sucked dry” part, you ask? Don’t set yourself up for burnout!

Thankfully, the Kingdom works differently from our world. Jesus reminds us to work under his power, not ours, for real results. Paul had a thorn in his flesh to teach him to rely on Christ’s strength. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” ( 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV)

2 Corinthians 9:8 highlights this sufficiency so well: “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” ( NIV 1984; emphasis mine)

Don’t forget that the Kingdom provides for rest, as well. We serve the God who rested after He created. He cares for sparrows and offers us an easy yoke.

This rest is grace–a provision–not an entitlement. (Preaching to myself!)

I accept the “company time.” challenge! I’m not punching a time clock. How about you?

On it!

Picture this. Your backseat cargo wobbles as you turn into the gravel lot of the huge barnlike structure serving as Ben’s workshop. You resist the umpteenth urge to throw your arm over the backseat to steady it and prevent further damage. Pretty soon, it’ll be Ben’s problem. He’ll fix everything.

The whine of a saw greets you as you step out of your car, followed by the heady scent of fresh wood. You wrestle the broken rocker out of the back, turn it upside down, and rest the seat on your shoulder. That oughta make you look at home in a place like this. You stride to the half-open king-size sliding shop door and enter Ben’s domain.

A helmeted head (likely Ben’s) bends in concetration and orange and yellow sparks fly as the creator welds metal together to form an object only he could identify. Chandelier? Table legs? Pipes for a giant sink? Given the loud sizzles emanating from the table, you tiptoe forward and have the common sense to keep a safe distance.

The welder lays his tool down and flips his helmet back, holding the creation up for inspection. “Oh, hey there! Didn’t hear you come in. You’re the lady with the rocker. Pam, right?” He sets the spidery metallic object down and pulls off his gloves.

“Right.” Suddenly shy, you glance briefly at the rocker, now sitting lopsided on the sawdust-covered floor, then at the burly guy clad in a blue flannel shirt and rubbery coveralls. Definitely Ben, king of restorations and wizard of furniture fixes.

Ben covers the distance between you in a couple of long lopes and sticks out his hand, then retracts it again. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m Ben, by the way.” He tips his bearded head toward the rocker. “This the patient?”

You chuckle. “It’s on it’s last legs.”

He reaches out a hand and gives the rocker a push. “Or off its rocker.”

You look way up into his friendly blue eyes. “Will it be too hard to fix? I mean, it has sentimental value, but is it worth it?”

He hefts it to his shoulder, just like I’d done earlier. What d’ya know! “Sure. Restoration. That’s what I do.”

With one gentle heft, he sets the chair on the counter behind his worktable, waves a dismissive hand, and begins to don his gloves. “On it!”

He flips his helmet down again and bends over his creation. Quirky xylophone?

But he’s working on the pot rack thingy again, not your rocker.

You forgot to tell him you wanted the worn design on the back restored.


You didn’t ask him when it would be done.

Yikes! you didn’t even ask him how much it would cost.

And you certainly didn’t try to tell him how to do his job.

He’s on it.

You’re outta there. Leaving my broken rocker behind. Not coming back till he calls to say the job is done.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. I Peter 5:9 NIV

Tug of World

During the approximately 81 hours of pep rallies I experienced (translation: endured) during my high school teaching years, Tug o’ War between the classes was one of the most popular games played. The freshmen developed school spirit by competing against the sophomores. The seniors usually triumphed over the juniors, of course. What was up with that?

Even this non-athlete knows that Tug o’ War starts with each side determined to win, taking a firm, strong stance. In a good game, things appear equal on both sides as players flex muscles, lean back, and grit teeth. Slowly, the balance of power changes as one side gains the advantage. If it’s still a good game, the advantage might shift again. In a less-than-equal contest, one side wins suddenly with a mighty tug.

In yesterday’s sermon, our pastor tackled the subject of spiritual warfare, beginning a series entitled Winning: Put on the Full Armor of God. He’s dealt with this before, and one of the most useful aspects of his teaching was the technique of naming our spiritual battles. Earlier, I shared how I applied this technique in Battle of Loopy Lie Valley and The War for Independence. Once I identify what mind games the enemy is using in my spiritual battles, it’s harder to ignore them. Sometimes I’m in the middle of full-blown conflict without realizing it, and having a list of battles won previously with God’s help wakes me up and calls me back into the fight. It just occured to me that Could I Interest You in an Appetizer? grew out of my facing The Day of Distraction, another frequent battle.

So what is Tug o’ World and what do I do about it? At first, I’m standing firm, Kingdom priorities in order, viewing the world around me from a relatively mature believer’s perspective. I’m making an effort, with the Holy Spirit’s help, to stay on mission. “This world is not my home” is a growing reality in my life, not just a song.

And then I listen to the news just an hour more one day. And the next. The familiar voices and faces are comforting. And then I leave the television on as I do things around the house instead of listening to Christian music. The tug of the world is so subtle. I scroll mindlessly through Facebook, duped that something there will inspire me–still watching the news, of course. Gradually, my world is very different. If I’m not careful, I might find myself in the Skirmish of Imagination Inflation before I know it, worrying about being an invisible senior locked away forever “for my protection” or plotting a dystopian novel I do not intend to write.

A friend is having a new home built nearby. She’s immersed in design details and appliance purchases, and runs her ideas by me. Recently, I got my neighbors together to have our sad, sagging townhome fences replaced and I had my treacherous front steps rebuilt. Fun, positive conversations and projects providing a welcome distraction from current events. I watched HGTV instead of the news. But then I started salivating over appliances and flooring samples in Home Depot and dropped into bed still thinking about my next project. Tug o’ World had shifted from politics to material things, but I was still losing the battle.

Praise God that He does not leave us alone, wandering about the battlefield like soldiers with amnesia! Much more patient that a drill sergeant, He teaches the same lesson over and over in different ways, presenting me with weapons and showing me how to use them.

Here are a few of these scripture weapons:

Hebrews 12:1-3, in particular the command to “fix my eyes on Jesus” from verse 2. Sometimes a reminder is enough to prepare me for the next tug of the world. Way back when I was taking driver’s ed, one of the students in my car needed a constant reminder to “watch the road.” Scary! Those prompts kept us alive, though. Fixing my eyes on Jesus helps me win the battle.

When Proverbs 3:5-6 “insisted” on becoming my 2020 verse of the year, I admit I was disappointed. Why this oldie instead of something new and challenging? Ha! I had no idea how pertinent this advice would be in 2020! I can’t pretend to understand what’s going on right now or know how it will play out, but God does, and I need a constant reminder to lean on Him. I need to submit to Him in everything–not an easy task, but so important for straight paths and winning my battles. (Preaching to myself again–I’ve forgotten this verse lately!)

The book of Revelation has encouraged me lately. In particular, Chuck Swindoll’s Living Insights Commentary has helped me see in more graphic ways the reality of what’s become a platitude: God is in control. Oh, how the enemy wants me to think I need to be in control, or certain politicians should or shouldn’t be in control! There are so many weapons here in skirmishes of Imagination Inflation that I had trouble choosing. Here’s a sample from page 107 in the application of Revelation 5:1-14:

The One who is worthy to exercise judgment and rule over the earth will accomplish His will through your life. Human history is littered with the wreckage of failed attempts to fix humanity’s problems, but we can turn to Christ, who has paid the price to bring about a glorious future. When we trust in Christ instead of ourselves, the evil and opposition of the world seems much less daunting. It’s all subject to Him! When we see His brilliant splendor looming on the horizon, we can endure this present darkness with ever-increasing hope.

Enough said!

Stay in the battle. Preaching to myself.

Outwardly wasting away; inwardly renewed

Someone joked online recently about a virus-related health questionnaire asking if she had any aches and pains. (I haven’t run across that one yet, have you?) She chose to answer “No more than usual.” I’ve been thinking how I would answer if confronted with the same question at the beauty salon today.

In our worldly existence, we’re all subject to aches and pains–and worse, and we spend a lot of energy trying to prevent them ,dull them, and cope with them in various ways. Even our brains are subject to deterioration.

My beautiful, intelligent, and godly mother almost made it to her 99th birthday. She survived breast cancer and enjoyed excellent health most of her life but she did suffer with dementia during her last few years. Although she never forgot her family members or had major personality changes, I felt her quality of life was greatly diminished. I still wrestle with “why?” and I confess some of my questions are mixed with concern about whether this will happen to me, too.

Because of her faith in Jesus, I know Mother went to heaven, where she longed to go for many years. Sometime after her earthly body wore out completely, I rediscovered a scripture which put a balm on much of the discomfort I felt about what I’d categorized as her “ignominious” final years. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 showed me there’s more going on in the life of a Christian that meets the eye, or than we can feel as we go about our daily activities.

Reading, one of Mother’s greatest pleasures next to music, became difficult. Fortunately, she’d been an eager Bible student throughout her life and hidden scripture in her heart when her mind was sharp. I discovered a stack of her memory cards which reminded me that these truths were still in her heart when she could no longer read or understand. Supernaturally, the Holy Spirit was using them to renew her inwardly, when all I could see was the wasting away of her earthly body.

When Mother could no longer pray, Romans 8:26-27 reassures me that the Holy Spirit intereceded for her, perhaps using as fuel some of the scripture that she had memorized.

As I try to hide God’s Word in my heart, too, I’m reminded that God does not abandon his creatures. Even as I search for the verse, Psalm 92:12-15, which I supposedly memorized, I’m reminded that the Lord does not abandon his children (the righteous). He helps them continue to bear fruit as they age, and as they waste away outwardly, they are renewed inwardly day by day. Even though I don’t always understand His ways, “he is my rock, and there is no wickedness in him.”

Happy Birthday in heaven, Mother!

Could I Interest You in an Appetizer?

You smile and accept the menu, your mind on catching up with the friends you’ve joined for dinner. The server hovers. “Can I get you started with an appetizer tonight?”

Since you’re with a group, you might settle on something to share and the server hurries off. He returns just as you’ve caught up on your friend’s latest news and begin to hear the rumbling of your stomach.

By the time you’ve polished off the appetizer and your meal arrives, your appetite has diminished. You groan as the server sets a huge feast before you. What possessed you to snack on hot, buttered bread in between bites of steamed mussels or spicy grilled shrimp? How will you ever do justice to your steak and baked potato or your Italian feast?

How did “appetizers” get their name, anyway? Mom was right that eating between meals spoiled your appetite!

If you’re still with me and you haven’t run to the fridge for a snack, you probably want to know what this has to do with our spiritual life, right?

Spiritual appetizers aren’t like restaurant appetizers. 

During the early days of the pandemic, the days often dragged. Like everyone, I missed my daily routine. My house and my entire neighborhood were quiet. (Hard to believe if your entire family was suddenly at home together 24 hours a day looking for a tranquil corner, but I didn’t have that problem.) As she stared at the occasional preoccupied passer-by during our walks, I knew even Angie the dog missed people and fellow canines.

I started to create a new routine centered around time with the Lord and virtual connections centered on spiritual things. A podcast during our morning walk. Noon prayer with one or more churches. A weekly online Bible study. My own worship service on Sunday, followed by others that I might want to visit as well. This became the new normal and was a helpful way to stay connected with God and with fellow believers.

My appetite and need for spiritual sustenance were strong.

Slowly, days have become fuller and noisier. I’ve ventured out a bit. Now the virus wasn’t the only news on TV, and I “had” to stay informed. I tackled some big projects around the house. I had to rush to get up and over to the dog sitter’s so I’d arrive at an appointment on time. The “old normal” tried to reassert itself.

A vague sense of disquiet marred the tranquility I’d cultivated earlier.

I skipped the opportunity to turn on the Christian radio station and allow some music to shape my thoughts.

“I should probably settle down and pray or do my Bible study. I’d feel better,” I would tell myself.

Sometimes, an insidious voice would whisper, “That’s silly. You were really overdoing it before.”

My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”

Your face, LORD, I will seek.

Psalm 27:8 NIV

Strangely, when I managed to silence the deceptive voice and sample the appetizer, I wanted more. Spiritual appetizers helped me crave more spiritual food, not less.

And that’s a good thing!

When the Spirit’s voice tries to interest you in an appetizer, say yes!

 

Battle of Loopy Lie Valley

 

peru-2287008_1920The Battle for Independence is probably tied with the Battle of Loopy Lie Valley in deadliness. As mentioned earlier, we actually need to lose the Battle for Independence. All our other spiritual battles must be won. The great news is, we are guaranteed ultimate victory–we are more than conquerors! (Romans 8:31-39).

Generals in the Pentagon name their “operations,” probably before they start. Some of the operations have cryptic names for obvious reasons. Others have names that hint at their purpose.

But what is Loopy Lie Valley, and why did I name this battle in the first place?

In a study on spiritual warfare, our pastor recommended naming our spiritual battles. I don’t recall that he explained why, but it didn’t take long for me to see the wisdom in this idea.

–The enemy (Satan) isn’t terribly creative and original. He tends to use the same deceptive tactics over and over.

–If something has a name, it’s been identified and it’s easier to fight.

(The pastor probably didn’t anticipate the fun I’d have making my different battle names sound like cheesy westerns. Here too, the more memorable the better.)

The action in Loopy Lie Valley has the potential to last for days, and often did, when I didn’t know it was happening!

So what are “loopy lies” anyway? They are those sudden negative, condemning thoughts that won’t let go–things you thought you’d dealt with long ago. Suddenly, there they are haunting and taunting you! Know them and call them out for the lies they are!

They thrive on endless loops. Don’t bother trying to analyze your way out. Applying logic to squelch them won’t work either, because another random lie will jump in and keep the loop going. The enemy will use anything in a pinch, and I’ve found he resorts to the same loopy lies or slight variations thereof.

The loop usually starts when I recall a past sin for which I’ve repented and received forgiveness. If I attempt to deal with this in my own strength (my flesh), I will get sidetracked by attempting some sort of cleanup operation (legalism)–trying again to do what I never could do outside of God’s grace–make myself acceptable to Him again. I will feel like an imposter and wnt to hide from other believers. (After all, they have it all together and I’m the only unworthy one, right?)

This lie sounds so spiritual. Don’t let the enemy fool you–it’s anything but! Remember how he quoted scripture when he tempted Jesus?

The specific weapons I use against this loopy lie are Romans 8:1 and I John 1:9. Shout them aloud if necessary and take that thought captive to the control of Christ. If legalism has crept in and I need to remind myself that I am free in Jesus, I wield Galatians 5:1.

Another lie I fight is the lack of assurance of salvation. It used to be way too easy for Satan to get me to question and worry about the fact that I was saved at age four after hearing a talk about hell in children’s church. What more vital weapon for the enemy to steal than my helmet of salvation? What better way to halt the progress of the gospel than to make a disciple apologetic about her own salvation experience?

Mentally, I put on that helmet of salvation every morning–thanking God aloud that he authored my faith (Hebrews 12:2) when I was four and had held onto me (John 10:27-29) through my ups, downs, rebellion, and repentance ever since. Lest I dare worry about the future, I often remind myself that my salvation is a done deal (Romans 8:29-30) and that God will keep me firm to the end (1 Corinthians 1:8-9).

Rehearsing the truth every morning as I don my “helmet” has made this loopy lie rare and almost laughable. If I need to use the weapon at other times, it’s close at hand. Although I’m not as outspoken a witness as I’d like to be, I am working on boldly sharing my faith journey with believers and unbelievers.

Don’t panic if the loopy lies hit!

–Know the most common ones the enemy uses on you.

–Counter them with the antidote–truth from God’s Word.

–Don’t become self-absorbed and indulge the lies–take them captive.

–If the loop doesn’t evaporate, don’t hide from fellow believers. Enlist their support through prayer.

Remember, God gives you the victory!

The War for Independence

independent-woman-3566942_1920“I REFUSE TO BE DEPENDENT,” proclaims an inspirational poster in the physical therapist’s office.

Amen. Why else would I be torturing myself twice a week and committing (more or less)to exercise at home?

Americans have always had a reputation for being fiercely independent. We celebrate the anniversary of our War for Independence from Great Britain every July. Much of our youth revolves around “growing up” and milestones such as getting our first job and our first car, then moving away from home.

That’s normal, right? Even preferable to being dependent on someone else.

We even let this attitude infect our spiritual lives: God helps those who help themselves. If you’re up for following a short rabbit trail, check out the discussion of this saying in Wikipedia. The final section, which covers how many people think this statement is in the Bible, and whether this idea is actually biblical, is fascinating!

In my life, the “War for Independence” is one of my primary spiritual battles. Winning this battle means I must lose my independence. Just as I rely on the Lord for salvation, I must learn to rely on Him for my other needs. Unfortunately, when my sin nature flares, I find that I don’t really like to be dependent on God. I want Him to be there when I need Him, yes, but I’m not wild about needing to need Him!

Does that make sense?

Adam and Eve apparently felt the same way. They opted for trying to become as wise as God. Abraham got tired to waiting for God to make Him the father of a great nation and took matters into his own hands. Satan may have been counting on Jesus to cease being dependent and submitting to His Father’s will when he tempted Jesus in the wilderness.

On my fleshly and feisty days, I dislike being a clay pot in the hands of the Potter. I’m like a terrible two-year-old, stomping my foot and saying, “No!”

But it’s the Potter’s job to make sure I learn to rely on Him and remember the good results when I do. Despite their Ebenezer stones, various festivals, and scriptural records, the Israelites struggled to remember and rely on God’s faithfulness. I journal and rely on scripture to remind me that God is always faithful and utterly reliable. As I review these and listen to fellow believers recount their own stories, the Holy Spirit strengthens me in my battle to depend on God.

I can adopt the posture of dependence more easily when I think of my relationship to God as a child to her Father. He invites us to bring our all anxieties to Him, which requires humbling ourselves under His mighty hand.

Why be dependent?

Only works done by the Spirit will last.

It glorifies God instead of ourselves.

It prevents lapsing into legalism and works-based religion.

We will grow in grace and become more like Jesus.

What better reason do we need?

Preaching to myself again!