Karen Foster

Blame it on an “Act of God”

The newspaper said it was an “act of God.” And they didn’t mean a miracle.

A major storm blew through the area, and the falling debris from trees damaged someone’s car. The car owner’s insurance company refused to pay for repair costs because it was considered an “act of God.”

How strange, and convenient for insurance companies, when men deny the existence of God in one breath, and point fingers of blame at Him when bad things occur.

Am I guilty of that mentality?

Blaming bad things on an “act of God” and ignoring Him when my life runs smoothly?

What is an “ACT OF GOD?” Supernatural, unexplained, an insurance clause?

Was it not an Act of God that redeemed my soul?

Aren’t mankind and nature a wondrous Act of God?

How many countless, merciful Acts of God occur throughout my life—many times without my knowledge—to spare me from calamity, or the consequences of my own sin?

Some days, I choose to ignore the collateral damage of this fallen world, and praise God for His blessed acts.

I breathe in the scent of fresh-cut grass, and sweet Jasmine growing on the vine. Listen to the melody of birdsong, and watch them nourish themselves at my feeder.

“God’s in his heaven, and all’s well with the world.”

But if I only praise God when

My world feels good.

My health is better.

My bank account is in the black.

The sun is shining.

Then I’m a fair-weather friend. I’m only in relationship with God for the good things He gives me, rather than for Him alone.

And if that’s true, then I’m no different than the birds. They don’t come for me; they come for the seeds I provide.

God help me.

I don’t want to be like the multitude of people who followed Jesus because they were hungry and knew he could miraculously feed the masses with five barley loaves and two fish.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate of the loaves, and were filled. (John 6: 26)

I don’t want to be like insurance companies, eager to blame God for damages, and never giving Him the glory for His awesome deeds.

Instead, “I will sing to Him, sing praises to Him; Speak of all His wonders.” (Psalm 105:2)

Pluck Them Eyes

Two women wanted to meet me, see my home.

Marriage does that…opens doors to kinfolk who are strangers, welcomes them as family. How could I know God would use their visit to pluck my eyes.

Avid gardeners, these women wanted to see my yard.

Spring colors littered the landscape. Lavender plants, yellow Columbine, blue Chinese Forget-Me-Not, red Camellias, and pink Azaleas soaked up the afternoon sun. Iris and Day Lilies just shy of blooming swayed in the gentle breeze.

My guests cooed over each plant as though they were my children. But sadly, …

All I noticed were the weeds.

April showers and procrastination had kept me from my garden. Dead limbs needed amputation. Wild stalks of grass as tall as my kneecaps vied for attention. Dandelions growing between the flagstone steps were so plentiful I could have made Dandelion Wine.

I cringed as we walked the garden path. Confessed flimsy excuses. My guests seemed blind to the weeds, or were being polite.

When they drove away, I yanked one thorny weed out of the ground and threw it down. A warning to the stubborn weeds, “Your day will come!”

BUT as I washed the dirt from my manicured nails, I got to thinking ….

For a woman who tends to view her circumstances through rose-colored glasses, I have a problem with critical eyes.

Critical eyes magnify the negative.

Like the weeds, a pimple on my face is a giant red flag on an otherwise healthy epidermis. I see the lack of muscle tone in my legs instead of their ability to walk. I focus on the crumbs on my kitchen counter instead of the food in my pantry.

When I’m doing housework, I can’t see the clean for the dirt. And I’ll spot a 76% on my son’s schoolwork quicker than I notice three 100’s.

I’m being honest here.

Critical eyes pinpoint Faults in people instead of their Gifts.

Critical eyes breed self-righteousness.

Or paranoia, because surely other people look at me with equally critical eyes.

Critical eyes access everything

And finds no one, and nothing, is good enough.

Not even me.

So this week, I’m pulling weeds from my garden. And by God’s grace, and for the health of my soul, I’m plucking my critical eyes.

“The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light” (Matthew 6:22).

Must I Go to Church?

Must I go to church today?

As I rolled over in bed, every muscle in my body ached. I’d spent the previous day pulling weeds from my garden. I don’t feel like going anywhere.

Excuses whined in my head:

I need the rest.

I had to go somewhere every day last week, I deserve a break.

I can listen to praise music and worship God in my home.

I can read my Bible and pray in my recliner.

I won’t be missed.

Notice the word “I” stood center stage.

Rolling out of bed, I stumbled to the bathroom sink and splashed lukewarm water on my face.

Am I behaving like a lukewarm Christian?

So what if I’d had a busy week. Should church be less of a priority than the multitude of other activities on my agenda?

Is church attendance an option?

Guilt squeezed my chest, dragged me to church where I purposely sat by myself in the last pew.

The worship band played. I sang, but there was no song in my heart.

Someone prayed. I bowed my head, but my mind wandered.

“See!” An inner voiced mocked. “You should have stayed home. Coming to church out of obligation is legalism. You can go through the motions, but God sees your heart!”

I turned to Psalm 19 and followed dutifully along in my Bible as the Pastor read:

“The heavens are telling of the glory of God. And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.”

As he continued reading verses 7-11, my dutiful heart became deliriously devoted.

“The law of the Lord is perfect…”

“The testimony of the Lord is sure….”

“The precepts of the Lord are right….”

“The commandment of the Lord is pure…”

“The fear of the Lord is clean…”

“The judgments of the Lord are true….”

Notice GOD’S NAME stands center stage.

Focused on God and His Word rather than my feelings, excuses, or moods….

My soul was restored…and my mind made wise. (Verse 7)

My heart rejoiced…and my eyes enlightened. (Verse 8)

And that is why I must go to church.

For I know I’ll hear God’s Word and meditate on the ONE whose glory is revealed in the heavens. And I’ll worship the only ONE who is able to keep me from sins and forgive my transgressions because ….

The Lord truly is “my rock and my Redeemer.” (Verse 14)

There are no other options.

Want Some Gum?

On April 1^st, April Fool’s Day, a fellow jail chaplain passed away. Harry was 92 years old, but he was no fool.

“The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” (Psalm 14:1)

I attended Harry’s memorial service this past weekend. I went, not to weep, but to celebrate a life that belonged to Jesus. To honor a man whose earthly fruit glorified God.

Folks called Harry the “juicy fruit man” because he always …and I mean always…carried sticks of gum. That’s how I met him one night, many moons ago, while I waited to go into jail.

Smiling, he offered me a stick of gum. The yellow wrapper said Juicy Fruit, but it was Harry’s “Gospel Gum.” Whether it was a jail guard or a stranger sitting in the lobby, Harry used gum to break the ice, to part the Red Sea.

“You know, GUM stands for God, U, and Me.” Then he’d share the gospel or pray for the person, whatever the moment called for, while I watched dumbfounded that he made Christian ministry look so easy.

Before we’d enter jail, the guard would examine our Bibles to ensure we weren’t carrying illegal contraband. Harry would grin and say, “I’m armed with the Word of God, which is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword.” (Hebrews 4:12)

Many evenings, the spiritual warfare we faced in jail was darker than the night time sky. I’d arrive fearful as though I were going into the lion’s den. Harry would pray as we walked down the long, concrete corridor. So by the time we parted, each entering a separate tank, my courage was mustered.

At Harry’s memorial service, I learned that years earlier, before he was a chaplain, prisoners escaped from jail and held him and his wife hostage in their home. They stole his car.

His response? Become a jail chaplain.

Listening to testimonies about Harry’s love affair with God and His people inspired me. But Harry’s death encouraged me to….

Cling like sticky GUM to the Easter message of hope I’d celebrated a week earlier.

Cling to Jesus, my sweet Savior, and His promise:

“I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me shall live even if he dies,

and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

(John 11:25, 26)

What Happens to Good Intentions?

Easter weekend arrived, along with our extended family.

We gathered to celebrate the Risen Christ. Celebrate our family–four generations.

Great grandpa said grace and sliced the ham that Great Grandma baked. Aunts and uncles squeezed next to grown children around the dinner table.

Passed hot platters of meat and steaming bowls of vegetables. Piled potato salad on our plates. Poured tea. Passed the rolls.

As the one-year-old great grandchild munched on deviled eggs, the grown “kids” listened to reminisces: “Remember when?” “Back in my day….”

That weekend, old hearts reconnected, new spouses welcomed. Torches passed to the next generation. “Raise up your children in the way they should go.”

When we hugged goodbye, we left with good intentions.

“Let’s get together this summer.”

“I promise to email more often.”

“Call me!”

But I know as life returns to normal, busyness erases our good intentions.

Same thing happens after a spiritual retreat.

Fellowship with other believers. Allow God to speak through His Word. Worship Him through songs. Remember His faithfulness and love.

I can’t get enough of God. I return home with good intentions.

“I promise to pray more.”

“I’ll seek the Lord before I start each day.”

“I’m going to ____Fill in the blank___”Read my Bible, join a Bible study, witness, Love God more….”

But as life returns to normal, busyness erases my good intentions.

Consequently, I become a slave to worry, fear, anger, malice. Find it difficult to trust God in my circumstances. Struggle to love. Wrestle with God’s will.

Need I say more?

But what a blessing to know when I fail to live up to my good intentions,

I can pray for the good things that God intends for us.

“I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.

That power is the same as the mighty strength he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 1:16-20

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