All in Grace
Yesterday, as I sat on our backyard deck and basked in the warmth of the Son, God moved my heart to praise Him. I'd just returned from a gathering of women who were assembled to learn about a local organization that supports teenage girls in foster care.
I scampered for shelter from tending the burn pile. The rumbling thunder signaled the arrival of yet another Spring storm. From my porch perch, I gazed at the darkened sky and marveled at what I saw—birds barely in view calmly soaring in and out of the clouds.
What makes you feel ashamed? I hate making dumb mistakes, like smarting off without thinking before I speak. In the past, I made many choices that I’m ashamed of. And I still do today if I don’t set my heart on Jesus.
I struggle with needing to feel… needed.
But sometimes this is a way that I make myself feel important.
It is a way of showing what I can do in my own strength… making it about me.
Unfortunately the lessons of the thornbushes can be many and exceedingly prickly if you wander your own way, as the nation of Israel persisted in doing. Sin became our downfall way back in the garden.
Well, Hosea did as God told him to and married Gomer. She conceived and bore him a son, a daughter, and another son (1:3). Then things went awry. Gomer became restless, in spite of the love of Hosea: “I will go after my lovers, who give me my food and my water, my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink” (2:5). She had totally forgotten who had rescued her, protected her, loved her, and supplied all her needs.
During a small gathering of women in a weekly Bible study group, I asked a question for each to answer.
“What allows you to share your faith story with others, whether Jesus-followers or not?”
“Grace. God’s grace.” Everyone answered the same around the table.
In discipling a young believer from Central Asian, I often heard tales of the immense patience she has received from the Lord.
Certainly, the glory of Zerubbabel’s temple did not compare to that of Solomon’s. But it wasn’t really the ornate gold and silver that gave that first temple the glory, was it ladies?
Micah wrote in 742-687 B.C., 700 years before Christ was born. All of Israel knew the prophecy, that Bethlehem was to be the birthplace of the Messiah. The chief priests and teachers of the law knew it when King Herod asked where the Christ was to be born (Matthew 2:4-5). Simeon knew it as he waited in the temple in Jerusalem (Luke 2:25); so did Anna (Luke 2:38). That origins of Messiah were from of old, from ancient times, was a given to those waiting for His birth.
Doom and gloom; doom and gloom! I don’t know about you but that’s how I look at the writings of the minor prophets, in the main. We study the likes of Micah who spat out the truth of God in no uncertain terms, and so he should. The people needed to understand they couldn’t continue to disobey the Law as God set it out in the Mosaic covenant. There were consequences. Hear says Micah in classical Hebrew poetry style (1:2); Listen (3:1, 6:1): the LORD does not like your sin.
If God promises, it is so—isn’t that correct ladies? Seems Gideon was having a hard time believing that: “But Lord…how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Mannasseh, and I am the weakest in my family” (Judges 6:15). But Gideon, “I will be with you!” (6:16), said God back. What more could Gideon ask for? Well, lots as it turned out. How about a sign or two or three, God?
I hit the road early one morning before the sun had risen. Many other people must have had the same idea for as I looked in front of me on the busy road three lanes wide, I noticed a sea of red tail lights. They continued ahead of me as far as I could see.
The drought continued in Elijah’s time. After all, God had said “neither dew nor rain in the next few years except at my word” (1 Kings 17:1). Eventually, the brook had to dry up. But who’d have thought God would send Elijah to a widow’s home for food, considering she was on her last bit of flour and oil.
A curveball: “something unexpected, surprising, or disruptive” (online Dictionary). Ever been thrown a curveball, ladies? How about a year of curveballs? Not entirely what I expected of 2021, especially after 2020.
“Joy to the world! The Lord is come.” Having created the universe in the beginning (1:2), and having sustained all things in the meantime (1:3), Jesus did precisely what He had come to do. He came “to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found.” The curse of original sin had most certainly left the proving ground of mankind’s soul a thorny mess that only a Savior could uproot. So the Son came to earth and provided purification for sins. He paid our penalty in full. Now that’s a reason to joyfully sing!
When I was young, my family rarely went to a restaurant to eat. But on one special occasion, my parents took us to a restaurant that was filled with various buffets. Salad and fruit buffets were in one area. Vegetable and meat buffets were nearby. And my favorite, of course, were the dessert buffets that I remember as taking up an entire room. Lavish quantities of food were everywhere! I wanted to try it all (well, most of it), but the abundance was too great. I couldn’t even sample it all.
Good news: I awakened at 4:00am on a Saturday morning. Since I had debated making a three-hour drive to see my mother in assisted living, I decided to hit the road.
Ah, Job I thought as I contemplated the Womenary calendar last fall—not exactly the most uplifting book. Now wasn’t that just typical of 2020! But what better time than the present to consider the reality of suffering with all the ups and downs of that year and the February deep freeze of this. Let’s jump on into the deep end ladies, as suffering is indeed a deep subject.
It's that time of year. Often we consider the start of a new year, a new beginning. We get to begin again. We are trying to get healthy, get organized, exercise more, eat less . . . the list is endless, right? I agree that a new start is always a good idea. We should be trying to better ourselves in lots of ways.
