Time To Break Camp And Move On

The capacity of human beings to adapt to circumstances is incredible. Have you ever watched footage of shelling in a war zone? I am always amazed to see people walking around, going to the market, walking to school, hanging out their laundry. There are bombs falling around them and they are going on with their day. Why? They've adapted to a new normal. Things have to be done, and so they just do them. What about people living in neighborhoods where drug deals are commonplace, gangs control the streets, and drive by shootings are regular occurrences? There are kids playing, people going to work, and moms sitting at the kitchen table helping kids finish homework. How? They've adapted to what is normal in their lives. Think about the family that is dealing with a loved one with a terminal disease, the woman in an abusive relationship, the person suffering debilitating depression, the homeless, the soldier who is shot at every day. Humans find a way to live with astonishing circumstances, and continue on.

Sometimes adapting is positive. Life does indeed have to go on. We can't just stop everything because of difficult circumstances. But sometimes, adapting can lead to accepting things we could change if we tried. Working in the mental health field, one of the most frustrating things was trying to help people realize how sick they really were. Perhaps they'd been depressed for years, and since it had worsened slowly over time, they couldn't see how far they had really fallen. And when you can't see you are in a hole, you don't look for help, or even accept help that is offered. People that have addictions often don't recognize how much of their life it has overtaken. People with mental illness and emotional disorders are masters of adapting to what is normal for them, and not seeing reality.

In a similar way, people who are lost don't recognize their need for a Savior. And people who are backslidden don't recognize how far they've moved away from God. And so they rest there. They set up camp and plant their flag and refuse to move. They become complacent. They accept things the way they are, and even begin to like it there. It is comfortable. It is familiar. It's not frightening, because they know what to expect there. And so, while God has much better things in mind for them, they instead stay stalled in their misery. They remain right where they are, and adapt to the circumstances, and therefore, miss the blessings God has waiting, just ahead if they would just step forward in faith.

Faith is action. Saying “I believe” is easy. Doing something based on that belief is where real faith lies. Look around you. Have you been camped in the same comfortable spot, refusing to move for a while now? Is God urging you to move forward? Don't let complacency and acceptance become your downfall. 

The Cheese Stands Alone

Today, I thought I'd share an oldie, but a goodie. I wrote this one when Ashley was 3, back in 2007. Seeing all the young adults graduate this week has made me nostalgic. For the seniors, and all of us, it is good to know that we have Someone who goes with us, always.

Image from http://josiesniece.blogspot.com

I've been reading books of nursery rhymes to Ashley lately, and teaching them to her, just as parents have done throughout the years. They are like old familiar friends from childhood. They have nice rhythm and rhyme. They bring back memories of carefree days, youthful innocence, and uninhabited laughter. I think they are as much fun for me as they are for her.

But as I read them, I have to wonder about them. What kind of weirdos wrote these things? I'm not even going to start on fairy tales....that's a whole other ball game. Sticking to nursery rhymes, think about them. For the most part they make no sense. There is no story line, no moral, no reason for the things that happen. “Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such a sight, and the dish ran away with the spoon.” Why did the cat have a fiddle, and was his playing so bad that the cow jumped all the way over the moon to get away? And why a cow? Cow can't even jump. Why not an animal that might have a chance at jumping over the moon....maybe a kangaroo, or a rabbit....or how about a flea? I can’t think of any fleas in nursery rhymes, although there are spiders and flies. There are also a disproportionate number of mice. There are the three blind mice that lose their tails to the butcher's wife, which is kind of sad and shows that she is either really sadistic, or has really bad aim. There are the three mice that ran up the clock, but we don't know why. We just know that when the clock strikes, they run back down. Also, notice mice often come in threes. That may help you if you are setting mouse traps.

There is also a mouse in the farmer in the dell. I remember singing this little ditty when I was small, but now I notice it leaves many questions unanswered. Let me refresh your memory. “The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, hi ho the dairy-o, the farmer in the dell.” The song goes on, with the farmer taking his wife, the wife taking the child, the child taking the dog, the dog taking the cat, the cat taking the mouse, the mouse taking the cheese, but the cheese stands alone. We don't know where they are all going, how they are getting there, or why. I'd like to know where they found a dog, at cat and mouse that don't chase each other and a wife that doesn't mind a mouse as a traveling companion. But notice this...none of them are alone. They all have someone they can take, except of course for the cheese, who is probably dinner anyway. None of us are ever alone either. We all have Someone we can take, anywhere, everywhere, always, regardless of where we are going and why. And not only does our Someone go with us, He helps us, supports us, guides us, advises us, protects us, and loves us along the way. In fact, He never leaves us. He doesn't fall asleep on the job like little boy blue. He doesn't run away like Georgie Porgy or little Miss Muffett. And while Mary had a little lamb, we are His little lambs.

Our lives are not nursery rhymes, which is good, because they don't seem to end happily very often. But just like the songs had an author who created the characters and put them in their situations, we have an Author who created us and placed us exactly where He wanted us. Fortunately, our Author isn't just trying to make a funny song with no concern for the characters' best interests. All He asks in return is all we are and all we have. That may seem like a lot, but the truth is, once we give that to Him, He gives us so much more in return. God's math defies our scientific laws.

Nursery rhymes are fun. Children love them and just enjoy them for their fun and simplicity. They don't questions the wheres, whys, or hows. And that's good. They'll have plenty of questions to worry about as they grow up. I'm thankful for their innocence, trust, and fun spirit. I'm also thankful for the questioning mind God gave me. Most of all, I'm thankful for God's endless love.

We Just Have a Few Questions, Ma'am

“Mom, there's some men here. I think it's the police.” Those words got my attention real quick. What on earth? I stepped into the garage to find two men in green uniforms standing with arms folded, two green pick-ups in the yard, and a very confused look on my face. Before I could process it, they said they were looking for Scott. “We just have some questions, ma’am.” At least they were unfailingly polite. After explaining that he was at work and wouldn't be home for another five hours, they said they'd wait. In my yard. For five hours. Things just got real!

It took some doing to find out what they even wanted, because Scott's the one they wanted to question. They told me they were there about the white turkey. I said ok. Ashley piped up and informed them it was a “boy turkey”. They seemed surprised and I started to understand. Yep, white turkey, had a beard, had some spurs, makes it a male, right? Not necessarily, they informed me. Thirty percent of hens have beards. I don't hunt turkeys. I'm a deer hunting girl, and if it has horns I WILL assume it is a buck and I will put it in my freezer. Turkeys are too much trouble for me but apparently you have to examine their tiny little beady heads to determine if it's male. From a distance, while they are moving around and while you are trying to stay hidden from an animal that has the best eyesight of anything we hunt, you are to check the head. Perhaps with a scope you could. We bow hunt.

The storm of the century, (well, the month anyway) was rolling in. Tornadoes had hit the day before and more were expected, so this worked in my favor. The game wardens didn't really want to sit in my yard all day and wait on the tornadoes. They let me know their boss wanted to verify the turkey wasn't on the premises. I told them, AGAIN, that it was in the freezer in Pine Hill and I would quite gladly take them to it. Nope, need to search my freezers first. I pulled open the doors and invited them to knock themselves out. I asked them to let me know if they found anything that looked interesting for supper. One of the freezers in the garage is full of hides that Scott donates to taxidermists. They examined each and every one of them. They went through the bags of meat we'd had processed, taking out every package, to be sure nothing was hidden beneath it. They were quite thorough. When they finished the freezers, they asked to be taken to the white turkey. They followed us to Pine Hill, and took the turkey out of the freezer to examine it, where they discovered that yes, indeed, it did have a beard and spurs. They couldn't get to much of the head, because it was frozen beneath the wing, but they finally decided that if it was a hen, it was an honest mistake and they'd let it go. This is when one of them pulled out a folder and showed me why they were there. Scott and Tim, proud of the solid white turkey which was quite legal, had posted pictures on hunting websites. Someone tipped the game wardens that it was a hen, and they had to investigate. Then they showed me the search warrants for my freezers. Search warrants people! Imagine how that feels. They thanked me for not making them use the warrants I didn't know they had. I told them we had absolutely nothing to hide. They said that was evident in the way I let them search. They let us go home where it took me hours to get my emotions in check. I was shaken, and annoyed, and thankful.

I knew we had not done anything wrong, on purpose. But there are so many regulations, it is easy to miss one. It's the first white turkey Scott had killed and he had looked it up before he killed it, but who knows what other laws we may not know about. Knowing they suspected we were criminals felt awful. Knowing they had gone to a judge and gotten search warrants? Wow, I can't even convey what that feels like. The whole thing felt like we were trying to prove our innocence when we didn't even know the charges. It was scary. Innocent people do go to jail sometimes.

I'm so grateful that God doesn't work that way. He doesn't sit back, trying to catch us sinning. He doesn't arrive on our doorsteps and demand we prove our innocence. He isn't vindictive or grudge-bearing. His desire when we've sinned is to restore a right relationship, not to punish. And His laws are straight forward and unchanging. I don't have to worry that I broke one that I had never even heard of or that had changed since the last time I read them. No, God is unchanging, faithful, forgiving, and compassionate.

The game wardens were professional and polite. They were doing their job. I have no hard feelings toward them. But I have a whole new view of those who are accused. Accusations do not equate to guilt. This is why our legal system demands proof. And though it is not a perfect system, it's still the best one out there. 

No More Brace Face

Today was an exciting day in the Fletcher household. After 2 ¼ years, Tim got his braces off. His teeth are now straight, which makes his mama happy, and he can now eat apples, sticky foods, popcorn, and even gum, which makes him happy. It was a long and often painful process, not to mention expensive, but in the end, it was all worth it to see that perfect smile.

Having braces is no fun. I hated them when I had them just as much as Tim hated his. They are uncomfortable at best, and painful at worst. Just when they stop hurting, you have to get them adjusted, which results in raw sore lips and mouth and aching teeth and jaws. You are constantly aware of them, of the things you are forbidden to eat because of them, and of the siren call of those forbidden foods trying to lure you in to sneak that which you should not have. You are conscious of them when having your picture made, when you smile at people, and when you speak. As I said, they are no fun.

I find the braces to be an interesting analogy of our walk with the Lord and to His corrections. We want to be like Jesus, perfect, sinless, spotless, but we are crooked, sinful, and broken. The only way to reach a more perfect state is though His correcting us, but we don't look forward to it. Oh, we want the end result. We want to look in the mirror and be proud of what we see. But the process for getting there? It's often no fun. We have to see our broken, sinful, crooked life and make changes in order to reach a more Christ-like existence. But it's not easy. Those changes can hurt. They can be frustrating and hard and take a long time. They can make us conscious of our failures, and that is unpleasant to face. They can leave us raw, and sore, and aching. They can make us feel the siren call of the forbidden fruits we are trying to avoid. Yes, those changes can be painful and difficult. But we can not grow without them. And just like with braces, when you finally stop the aching as you reach one goal, it's time to make another change, to make another adjustment, starting the process over again. We don't quit just because we accomplished one improvement.

One thing we noticed with the braces was that the adjustments at the beginning were much more painful than those toward the end. This is because the changes that needed to be made at the beginning were greater than those at the end. The same is true with our walk with Christ. In the beginning, we have great need for enormous change. But as we become more and more like Him, our short-comings tend to be smaller. If we are continuing to strive to be like Him, then we catch new issues before they become big issues, so they are dealt with quicker and easier. And we trust the process more, and fight it less.

Finally, Tim was less than pleased to learn he would have to wear retainers to help keep his teeth from migrating. After all that time, money, pain, and trouble, we certainly don't want that work to be in vain. Our walk with Christ is the same. We must do something to keep us from falling back into our old ways. What do we use as retainers? Prayer. Bible reading. Worship. Church. Spiritual mentors. More prayer.

Over the next days and weeks, Tim will get used to not having the braces. He will be able to enjoy eating some of his favorite foods with greater ease. He will get used to a nice smile reflecting back from the mirror. He will enjoy the ease of brushing his teeth without navigating miles of metal. And he will be tempted to become complacent with his routines. He will not want to wear the retainers, because they are irritating and inconvenient and unpleasant. And the danger is that the teeth will begin to ease back into their old positions. The movement is so slow, glacial really, that he won't notice until one day when he tries to put his retainer in and it won't fit. In the same way, when we overcome a weakness, a sin area, we are tempted to bask in our accomplishment and become complacent. And we don't notice the sin creeping back in until one day, we are shocked when we find ourselves doing that thing we thought we'd never do again.

Braces are a blessing. They correct problems, improve our smiles and our lives, and prevent further deterioration. They are not pleasant while you have them, but the results are worth the effort. God's corrections are a blessing. They correct problems, improve our lives, and prevent further distance from Him. They also are not pleasant while they are happening, but the results are well worth the discomfort. Thank God for His work in our lives.

Christian Peeps

Do you have a favorite Easter candy? Some people love Cadbury Eggs, others can't resist biting the ears off a chocolate bunny. I'm a simple jelly bean kind of girl. Scott is a huge lover of Peeps. I don't understand the devotion to a stale marshmallow covered in colored sugar cut into a cute shape, but it turns out that I'm in the minority on this one. According to their website, Peeps have been the most popular non-chocolate Easter candy for the last decade, and over 4.2 billion are sold each year. That's a lot of marshmallows! Who would have dreamed that a little handmade treat that took 27 hours to make in the 1950s would turn into an empire, with a following of over 200 fan websites, or that the Peep would become gourmet favorites as fondues, pizza toppings, crème brulee ingredients, and cappuccino toppings? Can ice cream be far behind? By the way, it now takes only 6 minutes to make a chick. Modern machinery is amazing.

I'm afraid that there are far too many Christians with Peep-like attributes. Too often we put on a lovely colored sugar coating to hide our bland, soft, insubstantial inner self. We say the right things, we act the right way in public, and we hide behind sweet but shallow interpretations of our faith. But the truth is that the marshmallow middle still shows through in even the best coated Peep, and even the best act a Christian puts on allows glimpses into the real person inside. If we only 'act' like a Christian, we end up only fooling ourselves. If we do not mature spiritually, we remain soft and gooey on the inside, with little to offer others. But if we dispense with the pretty covering and work to deepen our faith, increase our knowledge, and grow our relationship with our Lord, then we become solid inside, knowing what we believe and why, and willing and able to share it with others.

I'm afraid peep describes many Christians in another way too. We each should be broadcasting the most important message there is to as many people as we can. And yet, barely a peep. We share recipes, hunting and fishing and golf and football stories, pictures of our kids, news of a great sale, stories of awful experiences, and even the mundane details of our everyday lives with other people. But the Gospel? Barely a peep. I've had people I was barely acquainted with tell me amazingly personal things about their life, medical problems, family, and financial issues. But the Gospel? Rarely a peep. Are we as God's people going to be peeps, or trumpeters? Whisperers or announcers? Timid or bold? Useful to the Kingdom or insignificant? I want to be a bold announcer, trumpeter, broadcaster. I never want to be a peep.

Today, we celebrate Easter, the holiday that is most meaningful to me. Christmas is only the beginning of the story. Without Easter, nothing else matters. The enemies thought they won when they killed Jesus, but they could not keep Him dead. The grave couldn't hold Him. Death couldn't restrain Him. Satan couldn't beat Him. And because of this, we are victors too. Jesus won the battle for us, without our help. We didn't do it, but we benefit from it.


Easter Sunday: the day we loudly proclaim “He's alive!!, He's alive!!! He's alive and I'm forgiven, heaven's gates are open wide!” It's the day we celebrate His, and through Him our own victory over death and sin. But don't stop proclaiming it tomorrow when the eggs are all gone and the crosses come down and life returns to normal. Proclaim His resurrection tomorrow, and the next day, and next week and next month. Proclaim it to everyone, always. It's the balm a hurting world needs. So be a trumpeter instead of a peep.

Ow, Ow, Ow

I had a dental procedure last week that resulted in a great deal of pain, which has been my main focus over the last 8 days. An interesting thing about tooth pain is how pervasive it is. If your leg hurts, you try to avoid walking on it, prop it up, put a heating pad on it perhaps. If your stomach hurts, you may eat soothing foods or take some Pepto or Tums to help the problem. If your head hurts, you close your eyes, massage your temples, take a nap even. If your teeth hurt, you.....suffer. There really is very little you can do to stop the pain. They did give me pain meds, but it wore off every 3-4 hours, setting up a vicious cycle. Heat, cold, eating, starving....nothing really helps. Sleep only comes in 3 hour increments as the medication waxes and wanes. The pain in my mouth eventually caused enough stress that I got savage headaches along with pain in the entire right side of my face. By the time I went back to the dentist a week later to ask for help, I was sleep deprived, short-tempered, quick to cry, and generally pitiful. The constant onslaught of pain had really worn me down.

When you are in a lot of pain, it becomes your main focus. It's nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It's hard to care about anything else. It turns your focus inward, toward yourself. All you care about is making the pain stop. It doesn't matter that you have a million things to do, a family to care for, a job to finish.....the pain stays at the forefront of your mind, using up your attention, energy, and patience.

My pain was physical, and relatively short-lived. I know there are so many people suffering from long-term severe pain. I know people who are suffering physically, emotionally, and mentally. My heart hurts for them, and for the way pain is relentless. Whether it comes from a physical ailment or loss of a loved one or depression, the pain is very real and it negatively affects the quality of life.

One of the things I noticed while in pain is that, having a medical background, I look for concrete things to reduce the pain. I had medication, I tried heat, I tried salty water, I even tried Yarrow plant, which was a lot like chewing slightly minty grass and not especially pleasant. It wasn't until I was reduced to tears, laying in bed and ready to dissolve that I would remember to ask the Great Physician for help. I had a number of friends send messages that they were praying for me, and it would prompt me to pray for me too. During this time, I realized that I am quick to send up prayers for others, and yet, I fail to ask for help for myself. This is not some noble trait where I don't want to bother God over my needs. Rather, it is a failure on my part to trust him and to turn to him first. It is not wrong for me to try other methods to help, but it is wrong when I turn to them exclusively, or when I go to God as a last resort.

The other thing that really hit home with me during this minor trial in my life was how important it was for others to pray. When I couldn't think through the pain to pray for help, others did it for me. As I think back over the hardest times in my life, I know that having people praying carried me. When Tim was a tiny mite and was in the hospital with pneumonia, though they didn't yet know what it was, I called on friends to pray, because I couldn't even think of words to say. When my grandmother died and my heart was crushed, friends held me up with their prayers. When my dad was so very sick in the hospital and I was terrified I might lose him, the prayers of many sustained me. Knowing that people were lifting me up made all the difference.

Pain, regardless of the type or cause, fear, anxiety...they all take our focus off God and turn it inside. The remedy is prayer. We have to remember to go to God first for our needs. And we need to remember how important it is to pray for others in need, and to let them know you are lifting them up. It can make all the difference in the world.

The Death of a Vile Man

Fred Phelps passed away on March 19, 2014. You may not know his name, but I bet you know his works. He was the founder of Westboro Baptist Church, the group famous for picketing at funerals and demonstrating anywhere a camera might be found. Of all the sins in the world, they have laser-focused in on homosexuality, declaring that God hates homosexuals and anyone else who doesn't also hate them. They use the most vile language to get their point across, and are as hurtful as possible along the way. Phelps was a man filled with anger and hatred, fear and arrogance. He did an immeasurable amount of damage in God's name, without really knowing God at all.

Phelps's family has been torn apart by his beliefs. Most of his so called church members are family, and anyone who leaves the church is kicked out of the family. This extended even to his death in that his own children who had left the church were prevented from seeing him on his death bed by church members. Phelps's beliefs hurt a lot of people personally, but they also did a lot of damage to believers in general. His group was quick to appear where publicity could be found, and because of their hate-filled message, reporters were quick to seek them out. They became the poster children for the world's view that Christians are intolerant and that intolerance leads to oppression, hatefulness, and harm. Many have been judged by the actions of a few, even though the few did not really represent the many. No one in the media seemed to bother with the fact that, though Westboro claimed to be Baptist, they did not display ANY of the characteristics that makes one Baptist. Their beliefs were not in line with any Christian beliefs. How many people, searching for something bigger than themselves, interested in God, looked at the news and decided they wanted no part of it after seeing what so-called Christians did?

In case it wasn't clear, I did not like Fred Phelps. I hate everything he did, everything he stood for, and all of the damage he left in his wake. As the daughter of a veteran with great respect for those who serve our country, I am incensed at those who would dare to protest at a service person's funeral. As a person of faith, I hate the way they have twisted the message of love, repentance and salvation into a message of hatred and exclusion. I am not sorry that he's gone, and I pray his church dissolves, although I know that isn't likely as there was already new leadership in place before he died.

I am not sorry that he's gone, but I am sad that he died without the Truth. I saw lots of people celebrating his death, and making comments about wanting to protest his funeral, but when I heard of his death, I was saddened that another one was lost forever. Celebrating his death, protesting at his funeral....those are the same actions he would have carried out, and as Christians, we can't let that infect us. We can not lower ourselves to the same depravity that we despised in him. We can't condemn his lack of love and compassion, and then show the same lack of love and compassion toward him and his family. We must love our enemies, and we should feel sorrow when anyone, anyone at all, is lost in darkness. God desires all to be saved, and so should we.

It's hard. There are people, like Phelps, like Bin Laden, like rapists and murderers and child abusers, that are easy to hate, hard to love, and even harder to want to see saved. There is a reason people say “There's a special place in hell for someone like that.” Our human nature wants to see the vilest people punished, and we want them punished into eternity. We don't feel like they deserve to be saved. They were evil, and they deserve hell. News flash: so did you. So did I. So did we all. I never flew a plane into a building. I never picketed at a funeral or spewed hateful language at someone whose lifestyle I disagree with. I never killed someone or hurt a child. But I've committed other sins, quite a long list of them in fact. And according to God's word, it only takes ONE for me to deserve an eternity apart from Him. One lie. One time not honoring my parents. One time not honoring God. Just one. And that one sin is enough to condemn me to the same fate it is easy to wish on Phelps or Bin Laden or Manson.

When I did not deserve it, Jesus died for me. He died for you. And He died for Fred Phelps too. Let's show His love to the world by not hating as Phelps did, but desiring all to know the Truth. Let's be the light on the hill we are called to be.