Cling to the Vine – Page 5

Martha or Messiah?

There are words written in pastel chalk on the cement leading to my front door. Drawn at the brink of our family celebration, the words became a welcome mat acknowledging my son’s high school graduation, my parent’s 60th anniversary.

“Congratulations!” “Welcome to California!”

Chalk words that gladdened hearts now fade in the summer sun. The family members we welcomed have gone.

I mop the kitchen floor, erasing dusty footprints and sticky crumbs where people gathered to eat and laugh. Now the only reminders of my guests are photographs nailed to the refrigerator with magnets. Moments captured. Smiling faces preserved on matted paper.

Has it only been a week since I felt my eldest son’s strong embrace, smelled the fresh scent of my daughter’s hair, listened to the voices of my parents who have loved me well?

While they were here, I cooked, served, and smiled. I rose before dawn like the woman in Proverbs and saw to the needs of my household. Adrenaline, and love for them, kept me going till the midnight hour.

The family called me Martha (woman mentioned in the Gospels). They urged me to sit still and rest. But I’m wired to be a Martha…catering to other people’s needs.

Did you sleep well? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?

Are you hot or cold? Need a pillow for your head?

How can I encourage you, pray for you? Make you feel loved?

I don’t mind being a Martha, but in assuming to meet their every need, do I act like their Messiah?

· Do I urge them to rely on Jesus, or depend on me when there’s a problem and decision to be made?

· Do I mislead when I share what I think is best, or encourage them to consult and obey God’s Word?

“But my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19)

Some days, I balk at being Martha when I think of what Jesus said, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things…” (Luke 10:41)

Then I read His Word, “Jesus loved Martha….” (John 11:5) And I’m reminded He loves me too even when I’m worried and distracted by many things.

I know Jesus loves me because even in this….aftermath of celebration…He’s teaching me that a Martha can best serve her family’s needs by letting go, and leading them to Jesus.

Unlike the chalk words on my cement, HIS Word never fades away.

Feeling Out of Control?

SPEED scares me.

You want to see crazy? Ride with me in a car going over 40 mph when I’m the passenger. Not only am I a “backseat” driver, telling people HOW to drive,

My palms sweat, there’s a knot in my stomach. The same symptoms I get riding on a roller coaster, ski boat, snow mobile, motorcycle. I ride the brakes when I’m on a bicycle going downhill.

So imagine my amusement when my husband and I visited Los Angeles where we had to drive on multiple freeways: THE 405, THE 105, THE 605, THE 710, THE 5, and THE 110.

Driving for five days at speeds that far exceeded my comfort zone, and dodging five lanes of even faster, more aggressive drivers…drove me bananas.

When I wasn’t counting down the miles and minutes on the GPS, my eyes were clinched tight. I kept a white-knuckle death grip on the arm rest. And I prayed.

Bottle-neck traffic that had us crawl at a snail’s pace was answered prayer.

No joke. Speed makes me crazy.

On those rare occasions that I ride on the back of my husband’s motorcycle (only on rural roads) I remind myself to breathe rather than fixate on the black asphalt rushing below my feet. I cling to my husband’s rib cage so tight that he can’t breathe.

Isn’t it strange that clinging to something or someone when there’s a perceived threat can provide a sense of security…albeit it a false one.

I doubt holding on for dear life to an arm rest or my husband will keep me safe. Even a seat belt can only do so much at death-defying speeds. But I pretend.

Then again, perhaps speed is not the problem. Perhaps it’s a lack of control that scares me because I’m not in the driver’s seat.

Which makes sense. Because even when both feet are on the ground and I hear about someone who was diagnosed with cancer, or a commercial plane that disappeared in the Indian Ocean, or the earthquake that jolted Los Angeles the day after we left…..

My instinct is to GRAB something and PRETEND everything will be alright.

I want to feel safe, have some sense of control.

So I think of every contingency; take every precaution. Isn’t that what wise people do?

· Get a vaccine for the latest flu germ.

· Eat right, floss the teeth, exercise, and get an annual health exam.

· Buy insurance for the car. The house. My life.

· Save and invest money. (Hide a little extra under the mattress. Never know when the banks will crash.)

· Stock the pantry for natural disasters.

· Lock the door, the windows, set the burglar alarm…just in case.

And for good measure, and fire insurance against hell, become a Christian and attend church regularly because surely bad things don’t happen to good people, right?

Uh, where does it say that in the Bible?

Fact: Life Happens. Like seat belts, my best efforts to be safe and plan for emergencies can only do so much.

I have many choices in life, but I have little control.

“Faith, prayer, and obedience are our requirements. We are not offered in exchange immunity or exemption from the world’s woes. What we are offered has to do with another world altogether.” (Elisabeth Elliot)

So I Believe. Pray. Obey. Cling.

To Yahweh, the Only God who is Sovereign and in control over the affairs of men, nations, and even the weather. For I’ve been born again in Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit, studied God’s Word, and learned experientially …

“The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety.” (Psalm 18:2 NIV)

Show Me a Sign

“Rain all through the night,” announced the man on the radio.

I welcomed the winter rain. We need the water. But most folks across the country are ready for Spring. They’re sick of snow. And who can blame them?

Sometimes we need a change.

Perhaps it’s not the weather. Financial hardship, marital problems, rebellious teens, ill health, or a tedious job will stretch our patience thin.

We pray, but nothing changes.

So we hunker down and wait for the season, or storm, to pass.

When I’m overwhelmed by duties or sorrows, searching for answers, I’m prone to act like Gideon (Judges 6-9). I want assurance that God is present and has a plan.

Show me a sign, Lord.

That was my exact prayer when a three-day rainstorm paused, and the sun broke through the clouds like a welcomed guest. Enjoying the calm before another storm, I walked to my mailbox and found a package. Inside the package was a slim metal bracelet that I had ordered eight weeks earlier.

A package long overdue, but not really because ….

God’s timing is perfect.

A smile spread across my face as I read the tiny, engraved words on my bracelet.

Abide in Me

Not exactly the answer I was looking for that blustery day, but I knew it was a sign from above. Circumstances change, but God’s response remains the same.

Abide in Me

Abiding is that sweet union which allows believers to experience uninterrupted fellowship with Jesus. When we abide in Him, not only can we rest and experience peace, Jesus says we will bear much fruit and have joy (John 15).

When we abide in Christ, our eyes are fixed on Him and not our circumstances. We lean on Christ, and not ourselves.

As storm clouds gathered on the horizon that day, I ran my fingers over the bracelet. Three words once spoken by Jesus were now etched upon my heart, wrapped around my wrist.

Abide in Me

Today and every day…..even in this storm.

Photo of Bird: Molly Smith Detweiler

Thunderstorm: Karen Foster

Don’t Be Moved

Hummingbird perched like an miniature statue on the feeder, waiting for me to leave.

For I had stepped outside on the porch while I finished talking to my mother on the phone.

Although I was within spitting distance, Hummingbird didn’t dart away. No ruffling of the feathers, no high-pitched protest. No turning of the head to stare me down. Neither did he drink.

When I went inside and watched him through the screen door, he came to life. His spear-like beak sipped sugar water from the hole in the feeder as though he were drinking through a straw.

Ever so gently, I opened the screen door. Would he fly away?

No. He stopped drinking, cocked his head heavenward, and waited as if he had all the time in the world.

Like a game of freeze tag, neither one of us moved a muscle.

Hummingbirds have scolded me from afar, waited for me to leave so they could swoop down and drink. Others have zoomed past my head like dive bombers, warning me to leave the area. But I’ve never encountered a hummingbird as stoic as this one.

Curiosity urged me to see how long Hummingbird could be still. But admiration and empathy for the brave little fellow made me surrender, let him win.

He had claimed his post, he would not be moved.

From the kitchen window, I watched Hummingbird quench his thirst.

And as my feathered friend clung to the feeder that provided him sustenance, I recalled this verse:

“My soul, wait only upon God and silently submit to Him;

for my hope and expectation are from Him.

He only is my Rock and my Salvation;

He is my Defense and my Fortress,

I shall not be moved.” (Psalm 62:5,6)

Rain Makes the People Grow

A blue sky and the chatter of yellow finches clinging to the tube feeder beneath my Oak tree beckons me. Come out and play.

However, blue skies can be deceiving in the winter. I open the front door and poke my head outside to test the temperature. The weatherman’s forecast was right. It’s unseasonably warm. I roll up my long sleeves. Grab a rake. But first, I stand still like the Tin Man from Oz and soak up the sunshine as though it were oil lubricating my stiff joints.

Then I rake the blanket of dry, brown pine needles off my Vinca plants. As sunlight touches the Vinca’s trailing stems, they seem to yawn and stretch skyward. Their miniature buds ready to burst into purple flowers.

Can this really be January?

Some folks may be envious especially if they’re shoveling snow. But as much as I love the sunshine, I’m praying for rain. Plants droop, waiting for a heavenly drink. Without rain, or snow in the mountains, the cost won’t be worth this week’s winter warmth.

I rake sharp needles into piles and look for a God lesson even in this glorious Spring-like day. And He shows me how often I pray for perfect days.

No problems to solve, nothing to fix. Health, wealth, and happiness. Isn’t that what people long for? Heaven on earth?

But I’m no different than trees and grass. I need grey, wet days to grow and thrive. Left to my own self-protection, and idea of perfection, my character stagnates. As a believer, how can I grow more into the likeness of Christ if I cling to the sunshine and avoid the storms?

“Rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that pressure and affliction and hardship produce patient and unswerving endurance. And endurance develops maturity of character.” (Romans 5:3, 4)

A pastor said, “When I pray for a good day, am I asking for a day that’s problem-free so I don’t need to rely on the Lord?”

I don’t have to be a weatherman to forecast my actions. I know I don’t pray as fervently when I’m on a vacation from my problems. I’m content to sail my own ship. Be captain of my soul.

Do I want to grow in Christ, and have my character be more like Him? Then I must stop being a fair-weather friend.

And rejoice even in the rain.

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