My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers

At the beginning of our life with Jesus Christ, we were sure we knew all there was to know about following Him. It was a delight to forsake everything else and to throw ourselves before Him in a fearless statement of love. But now we are not quite so sure. Jesus is far ahead of us and is beginning to seem different and unfamiliar— “Jesus was going before them; and they were amazed” (Mark 10:32 ).

There is an aspect of Jesus that chills even a disciple’s heart to its depth and makes his entire spiritual life gasp for air. This unusual Person with His face set “like a flint” (Isaiah 50:7 ) is walking with great determination ahead of me, and He strikes terror right through me. He no longer seems to be my Counselor and Friend and has a point of view about which I know nothing. All I can do is stand and stare at Him in amazement. At first I was confident that I understood Him, but now I am not so sure. I begin to realize that there is a distance between Jesus and me and I can no longer be intimate with Him. I have no idea where He is going, and the goal has become strangely distant.

Jesus Christ had to understand fully every sin and sorrow that human beings could experience, and that is what makes Him seem unfamiliar. When we see this aspect of Him, we realize we really don’t know Him. We don’t recognize even one characteristic of His life, and we don’t know how to begin to follow Him. He is far ahead of us, a Leader who seems totally unfamiliar, and we have no friendship with Him.

The discipline of dismay is an essential lesson which a disciple must learn. The danger is that we tend to look back on our times of obedience and on our past sacrifices to God in an effort to keep our enthusiasm for Him strong (see Isaiah 1:10-11 ). But when the darkness of dismay comes, endure until it is over, because out of it will come the ability to follow Jesus truly, which brings inexpressibly wonderful joy.

Feel like chatting?

Then friend request me on facebook ’cause lately you’ll find me there a whole more than here.

I’ll be back at some point. You know me, I can’t stay away from writing for too long. But until then… you know where to find me.

Later.

He has shown me so much truth over the last few months. I’ve talked for endless hours on the phone with my sister and other dear friends (who know well how much I dislike the phone) but it seems so hard to put words to page here about it.

The Lord is not only teaching me things but giving me opportunity to apply it immediately. I learn best that way but of course He knows that. He is stretching and molding me and I am so pleased to feel the warmth of His touch. At times there is discomfort in the process but I look ahead to the possibilities of what He is showing me and I pray He doesn’t stop.

Spiritual warfare and prayer are foremost on the list of things He’s shining His light on for me. Thirteen years of being a Christian and finally now I’m beginning to grasp the miraculous power we have available to us through His resurrection? Years of crawling, not even walking, by faith with no real understanding of the power that my union with Christ in His crucifixion avails me?

Why do so few pastors preach on things like our need to daily put on the Armor of God? I don’t get it.

We are in a battle people! Look at the evidence, there are dead bodies all around us. Christians too are being defeated by this unseen enemy. Why are there so many casualties when the battle has already been won?

More than likely it’s simply a lack of strength for the battle. So many of us are starving to death for lack of spiritual sustenance.  There is a feast of astounding proportions waiting for us to feed on daily in His Word and instead we nibble. A little bit here, a little taste there, wouldn’t want to get too full now would we?

Well not me. No, I’m gobbling up His Word like it’s a chocolate cream pie, hold the whipped cream, thank you very much. No utensils, no hands even, just mouth to food and here I sit with verses strewn all over my face. It may not look pretty but I’ve never felt so full and content. Even better? I’ve never been so ready for this battle that I’ve always been in the midst of but never really known how to fight.

How about you, are you starving or feasting? And how’s that going for you?

I must say, my blogging life has been quite the rollercoaster and I have proven myself to be more than a tinsy bit inconsistent. Friends, some you may know, have been so steadfast in their postings that they’ve even managed to go on to bigger and better things. Their following along with their writing abilities and most likely their revenue have grown temendously. I, on the otherhand, have only been consistent in moving my blog, changing the name and starting over every time I’ve had the urge.

I’ve found out a lot about myself through my blogging experience though. I’ve realized how distasteful hypocrisy is to me and how much I love people who live what they write. I’ve found that I do not enjoy debates and contentious attitudes. I’ve found that putting any online activity before my family and their needs can not end well; that Internet friends are great but real life, flesh and bone, know you well enough to hold you accountable friends are far better. I now know that my grammar skills and my ability to use a semi-colon properly are both lacking. And finally I’ve learned that regardless of all of the above, I really love to write.

I miss putting my thoughts into words on a page. I want to write. Not for all the reasons I used to think I want to write though. Not to become popular. Not to make a lot of money. Not even to make friends online.

I want to write just to put down my thoughts on this journey called the Christian life. I want to be able to read my archives and see the things - small things, big things - all the things that God has done in me and through me. I don’t want to forget.

I don’t want to draw a crowd here unless it’s filled with people who want to praise the Lord for His great and mighty works.

My mind is focused on the things of the Lord as it was years ago when I started my first blog, A Humble Heart. I’m back on the path and quite unwilling to let the blogosphere push my off in any other direction again. I choose not to be part of the blogging community that I once allowed to have  a negative effect on my walk of faith.

In fact, I am not a blogger.

I just want to write.

I can easily endure the few 30 something degree days I’ve experienced so far when they are interspersed among days like today. I actually had windows open and don’t get me started talking about how I sat on the back deck reading as the sun melted my cares away. Thank you, Lord Jesus was all I could verbalize and I did over and over again. I think He got the point.

Hmmm, that’s interesting. I find myself unable to think of anything but the weather now that I brought it up.

I guess if I’m going to keep my word I’ll just have to try writing a real post another day.

I am NOT a curmudgeon.

I am really NOT a bad person but…

I can’t wait until 12/26/08.

Shocking huh?

I am just not a Christmas person.

Thanksgiving? You betcha!

Easter? Absolutely!

Both can easily be celebrated sans all the commercialism. With Christmas this isn’t as easily done. But I’m working on it. I’m trying to find my own way and not follow the way of the marketers or secular world. I refuse to be told how to celebrate the birth of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ by people who love Him not.

What I’d really like to do is figure out a way to take a family mission trip the last two weeks of each year. I know I’ve said this before and didn’t manage to make it happen this year. But my prayer is that next year the Lord would make it possible. Actually not only possible but a reality.

In my heart of hearts I think that would be the perfect way to celebrate Christmas. Well that and 8 dozen Christmas cookies.

I had researched the churches in the area on the web. We had first narrowed down the ones we would visit to the three that struck a cord with us in some way. When push came to shove though there was only one we wanted to attend. And so we did, for six weeks.

Six weeks of feeling like we didn’t belong, like we weren’t part of this group. Six weeks of being lost among the 3000 or so hip, beautiful people that attended each Sunday. Six weeks of listening to the deafeningly loud worship music by the extremely talented band.

The preaching was good, really good. But something was wrong and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Everything looked perfect yet something just wasn’t right. Still we kept attending because we wanted this to be our church home.

It wasn’t until our oldest son was invited by a friend from work to attend a small church, that was actually closer to our home than this one, that we almost entertained the thought of visiting it too.

The first week Niko went to the small church we were treated to a video sermon at the big, perfect church. And when I say treated I’m not trying to give you the impression we liked it. Some people may not be bothered by a video sermon. I, on the other hand, found myself fidgeting like crazy in between bouts of dosing off. Not good.

And so the next week it didn’t take much cajoling from Niko to get us to say we’d go with him to the small church.

We walked in and a man walked up to introduce himself, shake our hands, and whole-heartedly welcome us. He remembered Niko’s name from the week before. He answered a few of our questions and in one fell swoop convinced me that my presence there mattered. He wasn’t the only one either, others did the same. After the service, which truly seemed Spirit-led, no one rushed out to their car. People talked and hugged and smiled kind of like family does when a celebration nears its end.

The second week proved that the first wasn’t a fluke. A sweet older woman invited me to her home for a Bible study the following Wednesday. She caught me by surprise and without thinking I said yes. I say without thinking because I’m not sure how I feel about woman’s Bible studies anymore.

Often the Bible isn’t really being studied but a Christian book instead. During the studies I’ve attended sin has run rampant. Gluttony and gossip are never confronted but “covered by grace.” Whatever that means?!

My yes means yes though so I went.

As I got out of my car I was pleasantly surprised to see the pastor getting out of his and he had his Bible in his hand, no book just his Bible. It turns out this was not a woman’s Bible study but instead it was attended by both men and women. The best part? They were all - um how can I say this without sounding bad - much older than me. They were saints who had known the Lord for 3, 4, maybe 5 times longer than me. What a delight!

The kids have made friends. The church even hosts a one-day-a-week homeschool academy.  It’s just been so easy to become involved.

I know that things will not always be perfect. No fellowhip is perfect. We weren’t looking for perfection. We were looking for a church home. And now that we’ve found it, it’s just one of things for which I’m thankful.

I keep trying to think of things to blog about but the most I get from each idea is just a few sentences before I bore myself to sleep. If I can’t stay awake long enough to write a full post I’m smart enough to know my writing will undoubtedly have the same affect (effect?) on you.

[Quick aside: does anyone have an easy way of remembering which of those words should be used when? They trip me up every time and even after I've googled their meanings and usage I always seem to forget.]

Unless of course there are readers out there with insomnia. Let me know and I’ll be more than happy to help you out. In fact, this post may be all you need.

…Anyway, one of my favorite things to do in this house is to read my Bible each morning in my recliner. You know, the one I wanted so badly in the furniture store a few years back, the same one that Julian decided was to become his once it entered the house, yeah that one. Well I reclaimed it when we moved in here and now it faces out to the backyard overlooking the deck, trees, and hills. It’s a beautiful view that reminds me to start the day and my quiet time with thanksgiving.

My day needs to start that way during these uncertain times. Especially if I’ve made the mistake of watching the news before heading off to bed the night before. I’m tired of hearing that the sky is falling. It’s working my last nerve to think that a liberal (fiscally and morally liberal) democrat may be running this panicked, lost nation in a few months. Sadly, the alternative doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy either.

After a stretch of about a week or so where I began to feel the stress and strain of the drama-loving media’s 24/7 blathering, I decided I needed to keep the television off and turn on His Word more often instead. It’s helped tremendously! it’s so easy to forget that it’s the lost world’s viewpoint I’m hearing and not that of someone who truly knows Who’s in control.

God will never leave me nor forsake me no matter how many historic dips, twists, and turns our economy, government and climate take. He is in this for the long haul and I’m sticking as close to His side as possible. It’s where that warm, fuzzy feeling can be found after all.

After hoping, praying, and waiting for eleven years, we own a home again.

Those are sweet words to say and for those who’ve known us through the waiting process, I hope they are sweet words to hear too.

Eleven years ago this past summer we lost a beautiful home in Temecula, California. The housing market had slumped and we weren’t the only people experiencing the pain of foreclosure. After the close of my business and the rise of our variable interest rate, we found it impossible to keep up with the payments. The day Julian and I faced this fact, it was like a weight was lifted from our shoulders. Still, hindsight is 20/20, as they say, and I would never advise anyone to walk away from their home. If I had to do it all over again, I’d have fought much harder to keep it.

I never, for even a moment, thought that it would take 6 moves, 5 rentals home which came with 5 very different landlords, and eleven years of patience before God would give us more than we could have imagined. In fact, I had a friend in Wisconsin, smarter than I wanted to admit at the time, that told me it could take ten years before we owned our own home again. I’m pretty sure I was secretly mad at her for a week. How dare she not have greater faith than that?!

Yet even after I’ve said all that I can’t help but ponder the journey. The eleven year journey in which God strengthened my marriage, our family and my faith. The journey that taught me so much about God’s faithfulness and my bend toward selfish, sinful manipulation of a God who, thankfully, will not be moved by such methods.

I think about all of the people He brought into my life because of our “gypsish” tendencies.

I am incredibly thankful for the journey. Incredibly.

On the day we were packing the moving truck with all of our worldly possessions or at least those that would fit, I told anyone who had ears to hear that this move was the beginning of a financial miracle.

$50,000 in debt with the IRS and another nearly $100,000 of debt from credit cards, child support and unsecured loans, a miracle was definitely needed. But the miracle that God gave us was so much more than financial. He brought me home from the work force and provided solely through Julian for the first time in our lives. He gave us the courage to teach our children at home until high school age which has given each of them such a solid foundation with which to face the world that hates the God we so love.

No, I wouldn’t advise anyone to walk away from their home. It’s a harder road than it seems. For us though, God used for good what at times felt like it might kill me.

And if this new home is any indicaton of what He has prepared for us in heaven, people… heaven is so gonna rock!

They are shy in Wisconsin and fast too. If you came near them, and when I say near I mean is-that-a-deer? near, they took off running.

In Texas, the deer have a whole different attitude. They don’t give a hoot how close you get, they ain’t budging. I’d swear they know exactly when hunting season begins and don’t plan on taking cover until the day before the shooting begins.

The other day, we pulled up in the car very close to these little guys, there was a group of about ten to twelve. Since some of them were blocking the road, we yelled for them to move. Nothing. One baby looked up, almost ready to go, when it was quickly chastised by the rest of the group.

So hubby stepped on the gas and hit one.

I kid! But we should have, there’s just something about a deer with attitude.

They seem to taste better.