GROWING SEEDS: You - Are - A - Target

February 24, 2019

You - Are - A - Target

A number of years ago, I watched as a friend went from one crisis catastrophe after another.  It seemed as if she could barely catch her breath from one before another slammed into her.  And these weren't small hiccup attacks in her life....they were massive tsunami attacks.  Through it all, she kept her head up, a smile on her face and said the following to me:

"Christianity is a battle, Liz, not a dream."

Wendell Phillips

And boy-howdy was she right!  

Before God and I started getting to know each other (ok, He already knew ME, I just didn't know HIM), my life was EASY.  There were very few issues...struggles were scarce and life was one big beautiful trip to Disneyland.  The hardest decision I had was where to go for dinner that evening.  

But then the attacks started coming my way.  It seemed the more I got to know God, the stronger the attacks got to know me.  And I remember hearing these words:

"If you are a Christian, you are the target of Satan, the enemy of our souls.  It is his aim to lure you off the path of strength, life, and authority and onto a course of destruction."  

Friends,

Satan - Has - Your - Name - In - His - Crosshairs  

The side we choose to be on in this battle for our souls is what we have to ask ourselves.  There is no neutral territory you can stand on and be safe.  You have to pick a side.  But just remember; God chose YOU before He even created the earth.  He whispered your name while in your mother's womb as He was busy knitting you into the person you are.  He always had a mighty plan for your life.

Choose your battle side carefully....and remember; He promised He would win this battle.

GROWING SEEDS: Don't Quit In The Pit

There is this invisible hole we all long to climb into when times get tough.  When flood waters come, when cancer knocks on the door, and when death happens while we sleep.   We get our shovels out and we dig.....we dig until the Pit is big enough to crawl into and we can no longer be seen.  We sit with our knees curled up to our chests as we rock back and forth, in perfect sync with our pain.  

If you haven't taken that shovel off the wall of your garage yet and started digging, you will someday.  

It's not a matter of will you....its a matter of when will you.

I sat out next to a fireless-firepit this past Saturday with my dear friends Jack and Marlane as my realtor showed the house to a potential buyer.  It was cold, misting rain and my coffee had moved from hot to cold in an instant.  We talked about the Pit....the Pit that swallows us up during times of crisis and heartache and how, when life comes crashing down all around you and nothing looks familiar anymore, the Pit is the only place you long to be.  You want to be alone with your sorrow....feel the comfort and proximity of the walls around you and feel the familiarity of your knees wrapped tightly in your arms.  It's a place of comfort....for awhile.

Right after Chuck passed away, I picked up the shovel to start digging my Pit.  I wanted to be in that Pit almost as bad as I wanted to sit and eat an entire Becky-Arterbury-Buttermilk-Pie alone.  But.....I couldn't.  Every time I'd pick up that metaphoric shovel, someone would come up and say, "Come on, you need to go to coffee"....."Let's go to The Stand"...."Keep Moving...Keep Breathing...Keep out of the stinkin' Pit, Liz."   And before long, the Pit lost its appeal.

And in the words of my friend Jack, when we look up from that dark quiet Pit of despair, we see a pinhole of Light.  We see a roll-down ladder heading straight towards us...and no matter how deep your Pit might be, it is not too deep for God to reach you....and rescue you.  

"There is beauty in your despair.

You just need to know where to look."

GROWING SEEDS: Not A Fan

"All throughout Scripture, following Jesus isn't something you can do at night where no one notices.  

It's a 24-hour a day commitment that WILL interfere with your life.  

That's not the small-print; that's a guarantee."  

Kyle Idleman, "Not A Fan"

Once a year, my sister, Debbie and I reread a book titled "Not A Fan".  

"Not A Fan" asks the question, "Are you a Fan or Follower........of God?"  Do you KNOW God or do you just know OFGod?  Huge difference, friends.  We may know all the Fun Facts about Bible stories....be able to quote scripture and say the 23rd Psalm perfectly, but do you truly KNOW God like you know your spouse, or child or parent? 

When I was 14, Elton John was my hero.  Once, a girlfriend from my school called into the local radio station, KVIL, and won an all-expense paid trip to Los Angeles to hear Elton John in concert.  She had back-stage passes, she had front row seats and she even got to meet Elton John in person.  I was so envious of her and quietly thought, "That should have been me...I know Elton John better than anyone!".

But what I actually knew of Elton John was he was born on March 25, 1947; he was 5'8" and his real name was Reginald Kenneth Dwight.  And even though I knew the lyrics of every song he ever sang, I didn't actually KNOWElton John personally.  I knew OF Elton John.  I was his biggest Fan.

I have found in my life that, so often, I would treat God like Elton John.  I would claim to know everything about Him....ramble off the facts and figures...the parables and the prayers...without actually KNOWING Him; i.e., having a Father-Daughter relationship with Him.  He was more of an acquaintance, less of a relative.  Many have made a decision to believe in Jesus without making a commitment to follow Him.  

Remember; even the enemy believes in Jesus.

Truth is, God isn't interested in having you as His Fan.  He wants you as His Follower. 

GROWING SEEDS: Hidden Blessings

A few weeks ago, two decent looking guys drove down my road, pulled into my neighbor's driveway and started checking out a large pine tree between our two houses.  They made their way over to me, shook my hand, pointed to the 70' pine tree and said, "That tree REALLY needs to come down, ma'am.  We'll be happy to take it down for you."  I was immediately skeptical.  Yes, that tree had been hit by lightning TWICE years before, but it still had new growth and looked fairly healthy from my vantage point.  They asked me to walk over with them and look at my neighbor's side of this tree...and it was only then that I saw the frailty of the tree.  If it were to fall, it would fall straight on my neighbor's house.

Since the tree appeared to be more on my property than my neighbors (wouldn't you know it), they gave me a price to cut it down.  I said I'd call them when I was ready.  Fast forward...three weeks went by and every time the wind kicked up, I thought about that dang tree.  I knew the damage would be substantial to the neighbor's house if it were to fall, and I knew I needed to do this sooner rather than later.

So I called these decent looking guys and gave the go-ahead.  The next day, a freezing Wednesday morning, they stood next to that dying tree, placed their hands on its rough bark, looked straight up into the heavens, and prayed.  Yes....they PRAYED over my 70' pine tree.  They prayed protection for themselves...they prayed the Lord's guidance on where the limbs fell...they even thanked Him for bringing them down the road to ME.  They never knew I was watching as I grabbed my cell and took pictures of their amazing witness to me.

I realized at that moment, that our vantage point doesn't always show the true picture of our story.  I thought the tree was fine from my side of it, but it was diseased from the unseen side.  I thought these were just two guys trying to make a buck removing a tree, but they were actually messengers sent by God to protect and help me.   

And I uncovered that sometimes... what appears to be invisible to us....is actually God's hand in disguise. 

There are hidden blessings in every story.

GROWING SEEDS: When Jesus Works A Church

A week after Chuck's Memorial Service, I received a call from my 90-year old Dad in Dallas.  I could tell he had something heavy on his mind and it didn't take him long to share his heart with me.

But before I tell you what he said, I must give you the back-story.  My two siblings and I were raised in a strict, conservative religious home.  Dad had been raised in this same denomination and, although considered a Christian faith, was very much a "works-based" movement.  Because of the rigorous rules this church followed, my parents chose to sell their wedding rings early on in their marriage to help build a church school so us three kids would never have to attend public school.   Their sacrifice was great...and their hearts were pure.  My Dad remains a member there today.  

Now, onto the call from Dad.  He told me how utterly impressed he was at how our church had treated the extended family during Chuck's service.  He had never been to a church that served the needs of a grieving family like First United Methodist Church in Mt. Vernon did that day, and that there had been a consistent theme of compassion throughout the entire experience; from the meaningful and upbeat service to the amazing luncheon afterward.  

My father choked up as he spoke these beautiful words to me, and I could tell he had given a great deal of thought to this.  

He then said something I never thought I'd hear my father say.  "I want you to move my monthly tithe currently being sent to my home church....to YOUR church, Liz."  I thought I misunderstood what he had said, so I had him repeat it.  "I want you, Liz, to change my tithe to your church....because your church deserves my money."  I won't lie; I tried to talk him out of it.  I suggested he might make one payment to our church and then continue tithing to his own church, but he wouldn't have it.  He said, "No...do what I ask, please."  So I did.  My Dad is now tithing to our church....not his own....because we showed him what a church looks like when they are the hands and feet of Jesus.  

Our church showed Dad what Grace, out of Love, truly looks like. 

GROWING SEEDS: Fitting The Pieces Together

A few years back while cleaning out a closet, I found a puzzle box with no lid.  It looked to have at least 500 pieces and there was no way to tell what this puzzle picture was by the tiny pieces laying-in-wait in the box.  As I tried to decide whether to keep or throw it out, the rebel side of me said, "I bet you can't put it together without the box lid picture.  I-Double-Dog-Dare-You!",

So I took that bet from the rebel side of my brain.  I lay the pieces out on the dining room table, separated the colors and the flat sides from each other.  I managed, after a while, to get the frame of the puzzle completed.  But now came the hard part.  The guts.  I worked for hours trying to locate just one piece to fit into the outer frame of the puzzle.  I was about to give up when WHAM....a piece fit!  I stepped back...looked at the puzzle...and in true God form, felt Him saying, "This, Liz, is your life."  

And right there in the dining room...I saw my life in that puzzle.  I saw where, as hard as I might try, I can't see the whole picture of my life.  I can only see the pieces of my past completed and snapped together.  Only God sees the cover of the puzzle box...and only God knows how the pieces fit together to form a picture of your life.  He is the only one who knows the next piece that must be placed in the puzzle in order for the next piece to fit and eventually, the picture of our lives is complete.  He watches patiently as we tell Him to stand back and let us try to force-fit a piece that was never meant to fit there.  And He struggles to understand why we don't let Him help when He is the only One who has the benefit of seeing the whole picture. 

When the decisions, choices, and difficulties of this life threaten to overwhelm you, think back on this box of puzzle pieces and remember how impossible it is for us to know where the pieces of our life go without God's help.  And never forget; He's the only One who knows every curve and every angle of your life.  Let Him put the pieces together.

What Grieving People Wish You Knew

 “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes,  

and death shall be no more,  

neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore”  

Revelation 21:4

"What Grieving People Wish You Knew"

Liz Etheridge

A few weeks back, I was talking with a contractor about a simple repair on the house when suddenly, I was blinking back tears.  It caught me so off guard; one minute I'm talking about a gutter-guard and the next, fighting off this enormous wave of grief where words couldn't even leave my mouth.  I found myself barely able to utter an apology to the poor gutter-guy while excusing myself to grab a tissue.    

Such has been my life these past 8 weeks.  Grief shows up at the most inopportune time I've discovered. 

In these two months since my husband passed away, I have discovered much about Grief....and about myself.   I have discovered that the feel of someone's arms wrapped tightly around me is... 

A form of medicine.  

It has healing powers.  

No words need to be said...

Just skin touching skin are the words.  

It's a balm to my soul.  

I have discovered that, although it brings tears (happy tears) and can be emotional, I NEED to hear people talk about Chuck.  His name brings joy to me and he need not be the elephant in the room where his name is avoided.  I need to know that if you knew him, you remember him.  I missed this the most about our Christmas gatherings this year.  He went from the "running-over-small-children-and-doorways-with-his-wheelchair" elephant in the room, to the actual "avoid-saying-his name-for-fear-of-tears" elephant in the room.  We need to say our loved ones name....we need to remember them....we need to laugh and, yes, cry over our memories of them.    

I have discovered that although I miss him more than words, I wouldn't want God to bring him back to this earth, even if He allowed me the choice.  I love him far too much for that.  This world wasn't ever his home; it was merely a road leading him to his Eternal Home.  He arrived safely and why would I ever want him to leave the comfort of his Eternal Home to travel this often difficult road ever again?  

What this grieving widow needs you to know is there isn't a second out of each day she doesn't think of her husband...and smile.  And she longs to see you smile along with her.  Not the pity-look...but the "what-a-crazy-cool-guy-he-was" kind of look.  It soothes her soul.  And don't let her tears scare you..they are healing tears.  With each tear that falls, she is one step closer to repairing her broken heart. 

She needs you to know she doesn't grieve her husband...she grieves her loss...and she will be fine with time.  Your prayers will see to that...and she is eternally grateful to you that the Throne Room floor of God is covered in prayers with her name on them.   

"Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come." Tagore

GROWING SEEDS: Chapter 2019

Chapter 2019

There's a sense of peace as I start Chapter 2019 by returning to the back of this bulletin you are holding.  This real-estate God and I place words on each week has been a blank canvas of white space ready to capture the utterances of my heart for years.  And I thank you, my friend, for patiently waiting as I've worked out the final pages of Chapter 2018...without words.

Simply put, God has pulled up His trousers and walked through the mud with me these past few months.  I have literally felt Him planting that mustard seed of Faith and Trust within me, asking me to simply believe and have faith in Him, no bigger than that seed.  He wasn't asking me, or you, to have faith the size of Texas Stadium, but rather, simply the microscopic size of a mustard seed.  I pray I do, but I sometimes wonder.

I once heard that the mustard seed is one of natures smallest seeds, yet it becomes a strikingly large plant when fully grown.  It's a perfect example of the "potential" of a seed.  A seed does nothing until it's planted, but once it is planted, it can push aside rocks or other obstacles as it continues to grow.  It draws its nutrients from its source...just as we draw our nutrients from our Source (God).

That mustard seed (faith)...well, it's planted deep into the center of each of our hearts.  Wouldn't it be something if someone had open heart surgery and the surgeon actually found a mustard seed planted there?  Crazy I know...but how awesomely cool would that be??

But sometimes the road we're walking is like the soil-covered seed....so dark its impossible to see or feel that seed of Faith growing in our hearts.  This is when we find ourselves most vulnerable to the enemy.  Because we know, the sole job of the enemy is to Lie, Steal and Destroy you and me...and to distract us from remembering we have a seed of Faith planted deep within us.

It's then that we need to start counting...counting each of our Blessings.  Number them as you write them down...because when we count our blessings, it's like poison to Satan and water to the mustard seed...

This then allows our Faith to push through the darkness...as we head towards the Son.

BLOG: Grace....Pass-It-On

December 18, 2018

Its exactly a week before Christmas Day.  The fog is heavy outside.  Where there once was a lake, there is now just white.   And I'm sitting here alone in a big house...waiting on something "magical" to happen.  Something...anything...is better than feeling like you're in the white space at the end of the chapter of a book.  One chapter ended....another hasn't yet begun.

But like the naked trees in the winter, I know this white space is temporary....and necessary.  The waiting....the growing that is going on internally and not being seen or felt externally.  Did you know the trees do their best growing in the winter?  They are growing under the dirt...internally....where we can't see the growth....the roots are growing stronger and thicker in preparation for the next chapter...Spring.  There's almost always another Spring if you're a tree.

Everyone is giving me a "pass" this Christmas season, being the first Christmas without my husband. It's been 6 weeks...and I see pity in their eyes; I hear it in their voices...and I actually love them for caring enough to have pity.  But I'm not to be pitied...I'm simply in that white space at the end of a chapter.  I'm the invisible roots of the winter tree.  I can't yet see the words to the next chapter, but I know they're there...and I can't see the roots of the tree growing either, but I know it is.

And from this still place I'm sitting right now, I see the world anxiously running around me as I stand still, crazy with shopping and Frosty and Santa and all the "reasons" we Christians shouldn't celebrate Christmas.

Perception is so much clearer when you're standing still.

Some friends and I attended a local Church Christmas Program a few weeks back.  The whole town showed up to this amazingly well-organized program...complete with light show, flying angels and yes, even a badly-costumed flying Jesus.  But before Jesus and the angels flew through the sanctuary, Frosty danced to the tune of "Frosty the Snowman" on the baptismal ledge.  Shortly thereafter, Santa and his sleigh drove past the pulpit.....

There was an awesome 100-person choir (yes, I counted!) and dancing carolers.  But I couldn't stop looking at Frosty dancing in the baptismal loft...and about how wrong this felt.  For some reason, it reminded me of the money changers in the courtyard of the tabernacle that made Jesus so angry in Matthew 21:12-13.  He had no problem with the people selling their goods....it was selling their good at the Temple that he had a problem with.  Frosty in the sacred baptismal loft and Santa sleighing past the pulpit was what made me squirm with uneasiness.   I remember silently asking God to forgive us for this.

I'm not a prude....goodness, at least I hope not.  I enjoy a fun story of Frosty and Santa and, unfortunately, it's a big part of Christmas.  But truth be told, it has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.  At least if you're a Christian it doesn't.  And certainly not in the Lord's house.

The only things that matter this time of year.....is remembering the birth of our Salvation.  I love remembering Mary giving birth....and jumping into her head and wondering what she was thinking...how she felt...what it must have been like to know Your child is going to change everything.

Loving others.  And "others" are the people who make you crazy....the waitress who treats you rudely.....the annoying screaming child at Wal-Mart....and yes, even his mother who is ignoring him.

Remembering everyone....EVERYONE....is going through something.  Look around...life sucks for most everyone in some way or another.   I'm not the only one...nor are you....going through difficult times.

Grace....pass-it-on.

If This Ring Could Talk.....

If this ring could talk,....

It would tell the story of how it came to be placed on a finger twenty-one years ago.  It would tell you about how two oddly matched people came to know each other over a meal one January evening and fell in love.  The guy, on his knee, asked the girl if he could spend the rest of his days next to her.  The girl said, "Yes".

It would tell the story of how they decided on this particular ring.  This is no ordinary ring.  The girl wanted just a wedding band but the guy wanted a big diamond for her hand. He felt, in some ways, it proved his love for her.  But the girl preferred to save the money for things they both could enjoy.  The guy didn't care about the cost; he wanted to spend as much as he needed to fill her finger to brimming.  They reached a compromise.  They bought a big diamond ring....it wasn't a pure diamond but had pure gold surrounding it.   The cost satisfied the girl....the ring satisfied the guy.

She never took it off.  Proudly wore it everywhere...because to her, it was as pure as the purest diamond because he had given it to her.  The cost was never a factor.

Eighteen years after she put that ring on, she was forced to take it off when the band broke.  Jewelers didn't want to repair it; "it wasn't a pure diamond" they stated..."wasn't worth repairing".  She carried the broken ring....a circle that was never to be broken yet did....with her everywhere...trying to find a jeweler who saw the value in it as she did.

A month after he died, she took it back to the store where the two of them had originally discovered it in hopes they would repair it.  She reminded the same clerks who were there and had sold it to them 22 years earlier. how they came to purchase this ring.  And she told them how that ring never left her finger all those years...until the band broke.  How she had tried to get it fixed but everyone stated it wasn't worth fixing.   She told about how a month earlier, her beloved had fallen asleep and never woke the next morning and how she wanted nothing more than to have that ring back on her finger.

The clerk, with tears in her eyes, promised to fix the ring back to its original state.  She promised to cherish that ring in the same way the bride cherished it on her wedding day 21 years earlier.  She promised to honor and respect that symbol of love.

And then one day, two weeks later, a package arrived at the Widow Bride's home.  It was a few weeks before Christmas...a little over a month after her beloved had fallen asleep....and as she opened the gift wrapped package, she read the note from the jeweler:

"The story about your ring and the love of your life, Charles, touched our hearts so much.  

We have restored your ring to its original glory and hope you will wear it another 25 years!"

And the bride will, indeed, wear this circle of gold for the rest of her days.  Because the bride realized it wasn't the monetary value of this circle of gold, it was the heart-value that truly mattered.