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This same Jesus

She thought she would be hired full time. But it didn’t happen.

Now she waits and wonders. What’s next?

This same Jesus . . .

They thought the healing would come by now. But it hasn’t happened yet.

They wait.

This same Jesus . . .

The woman sits alone in the dark, wanting the phone to ring.

She cries while she waits.

This same Jesus . . .

The test results aren’t back until next week.

He fights the fears and waits.

This same Jesus . . .

Others had waited and wondered. It was forty days after the resurrection. They had met with Jesus and they had seen Him taken up before their very eyes:

. . . suddenly two men (angels) dressed in white stood beside them and asked, “Why do you stand here, looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way.” (Acts 1:10,11)

Now I, too, contemplate  violets this same Jesus who

turned water into wine,

healed every affliction,

multiplied the loaves and fishes,

raised the dead,

had compassion for the needy and the sick,

was angry and wept when his friend died,

was beaten for our healing,

took our sins upon himself;

this same Jesus who

is always living, always saving, always interceding for me,

is the same yesterday and today and forever;

this same Jesus who

never forsakes the righteous.

Now I wait; for I can trust  –

this same Jesus.

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the daughter

She was truly a lovely young girl – probably a teenager – dressed in jeans and a jean jacket. Fine, thin hair. A pale complexion. Yet she didn’t appear quite like other teenage girls. She floated around the produce as I was shopping. I noticed her mother, a pretty, small, dark-haired woman, a short distance away, selecting produce, yet constantly aware of her daughter’s every move. This was obviously a way of life to which she had become accustomed.

The daughter was very thin. I immediately assumed she didn’t eat much – probably due to being nervous or high strung. My mind played out a scenario of the mother, encouraging the daughter to eat – often to no avail. In my mind, it wasn’t just a scenario. It was one I have lived. Repeatedly.

The daughter’s hands and forearms were raised much of the time, which attributed to her fairy-like floating. As she flitted by people, she moved close to them – entering their space.  She didn’t say a word, simply looked at the person approached. A nervous smile covered the face of a healthy, vibrant young woman as “the daughter” came near her. The young woman looked at “the mother” as if to ask, “What now?” But the mother had already spoken quietly to the daughter from a distance away, and the daughter floated on. I knew the inner agony of always having to watch over the daughter because I, too, watch over a child.

As I left the produce department, I observed the daughter float up to a young man. I recognized him – a polite young man who worked in the store – obviously coming in to work for the evening. He kindly smiled at the daughter. Spoke a quiet word or two, as he continued toward the back of the store to check in for his shift. I was relieved the mother didn’t have to interact again. I could imagine the distress of doing so. I could imagine because I, too, have interacted.

little sad crying girl sitting on the bedFrom the first moment I saw the daughter, my heart was with the mother.  I imagined her life – years of loving and training – years of hurt mixed with occasional tears of joy over the simplest accomplishments. I felt a bit of her pain, although she didn’t reveal any during this short encounter. But I knew a bit of that pain because I, too, have it – the pain that accompanies the unconditional love. The pain of having people judge the way a mother (or a grandmother) should act – judging how I should handle having a child (or grandchild) like this. The hurt of hearing others comment on an affliction they know very little about. The advice I wish they would keep to themselves. The lack of compassion for the pain I constantly carry. The lack of discussion – because it’s easier for them to simply change the subject.  I imagined the continuous tugging at the mother’s heartstrings as other children her daughter’s age were saying and doing normal everyday things, reaching and celebrating milestones – day after day and week after week – leading to year after year. Birthday parties and Christmases and Easter Egg hunts, and school events, and simple playtime activities that other children were enjoying while “the daughter” floated.

And by this time, I had purchased my groceries and was pushing my small cart across the front of the store, when I saw the daughter one more time. She floated up to me, her hands and forearms lifted like a precious little fairy, and I smiled at her and said, “Hello!”

Speechless, she floated on. Then I caught the eye of the mother – the sweet mother with a simple, sweet smile on her face – a smile that said, Thank you. Thank you for treating my daughter like you would any other child.

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Where should I go now?

I’m asking that question of myself! Where should I go now?

Do you ever feel that way? Wondering whether or not you should go a certain direction, take a specific path, or pursue a different avenue?

I’m in that place right now – regarding my writing.

Where should I go now? I ask God. I know He will answer. Just not sure when or how.

Meanwhile, . . .

I’ve decided to continue,  one step at a time, down a path, onto an avenue.

I know He will lead me as I go.

What about you? Don’t be dormant. Move forward. Don’t stand still.

You’re not too old, too busy, too sick, too discouraged, or too weary. You’ll find Him directly ahead of you in that direction, that path, and that avenue. “Come to me,” He says!

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

From Matthew 11

He’s leading. You’re following.

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Take off your sandals!

The nation of Israel had just crossed the Jordan River. And before they undertook this awesome journey, they had consecrated themselves, as Joshua had told them to do.

“Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.” (Joshua 3:4)

And the Lord did amazing things!

Next, the Israelites had another huge, unimaginable task before them – to bring down the city of Jericho – literally bring it down, with a SHOUT, making Jericho totally vulnerable to Israel’s own army – the army of the Lord. But just before this was to happen, Joshua saw a man in front of him – a man with a drawn sword in his hand. This man told Joshua that he was “commander of the army of the Lord.” Was he the Lord himself? Perhaps he was.  We can assume so, as Joshua certainly recognized the authority of this commander. He fell facedown and asked the commander a question:

“What message does my Lord have for his servant?”

“The commander of the Lord’s army replied, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy, ‘ And Joshua did so. ‘”(Joshua 5:15)

We see obedience. I, too, must ask the Lord,

What message do you have for me, Lord – for me, your servant?

Do you want to stand on holy ground? I do. I want to obey my commander’s orders. I want to be ready for the huge, unimaginable task before me. In order to do that, I must ask the Lord what His message is for me. And I need to take off my sandals. They’re dirty; they carry the dust and grime of the path I’ve been on. I want to be rid of them. I want my feet to be clean so I can step on to God’s holy ground. I want to be cleansed.

“Search me, O God . . . See if there is any offensive way in me . . .” (Psalm 139:23-24) “Create in me a [clean and] pure heart, O God. . . Restore me” (Psalm 51:10, 12).

It is only then, after taking off my sandals, after cleansing, that I can be ready to follow the seemingly huge, unimaginable task the Lord has set before me.

It is only then, that it could be written,

“Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy. And Kathi did so.”

Do you want to stand on holy ground?

Then take off your sandals.

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The God Who Whispers

Last night, as I knelt beside my bed and prayed – a habit I developed as a child – I felt like my prayers weren’t reaching God. But knowing Him as I do, I knew my thoughts were foolish. He is faithful, even when I am not.

The troubles and trials of life become overwhelming at times. My soul is thirsty for Him. My body is weak from work. My mind is boggled. Yes, He is faithful. But sometimes I can’t sense His presence and that faithfulness for which I yearn.

This morning, after a restless night, I awoke to light instead of darkness. The light brought refreshment to my weary soul. I was thankful for it, but . . .

I dropped to my knees again – this time in the light of day – and simply prayed something like, “You are faithful, even when I am not. And I need You, Father.”

No photo description available.Then I saw a posting I had put on my Facebook Writer’s page. It was from Psalm 63:8, and it read, “My soul followeth hard after Thee.” (It was the King James Version – beautiful Shakespearean language!)

My own posting caused me to wonder – Does my soul follow hard after the Lord? Is my soul “clinging” to Him? Am I yearning and seeking His Word? Am I pursuing the message of my own posting, intended to be a piece of hope to others?

And so I opened the Word to Psalm 63, and I read it first as my question to Him:

“Oh, God, am I earnestly seeking you? Is my soul thirsting for you? My  body longing for you in this dry, weary life, where nothing else quenches my thirst? . . . It is true that I have seen you in worship; I have witnessed your power in miracles – both in my life and in others’. . .”

And as I read the Word as my question, it soon became my praise!

And my soul clung to Him and to His Word. When this happens, He whispers. And I listen!

Let your soul cling to Him in this sometimes dry and weary life.

Let Him whisper to you, my friend, through His Word.

I respond by speaking and praying His Word back to Him:

From Psalm 63

1 You, God, are my God,
    earnestly I seek you;
My soul thirsts for you,
    my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land
    where there is no water.

2 I have seen you in the sanctuary
    and beheld your power and your glory.
3 Because your love is better than life,
    my lips will glorify you.
4 I will praise you as long as I live,
    and in your name I will lift up my hands.
5 I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

6 On my bed I remember you;
    I think of you through the watches of the night.
7 Because you are my help,
    I sing in the shadow of your wings.
8 I cling to you;
    your right hand upholds me.

Kathi

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Locked in

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” John 20:19

“. . . the doors locked for fear . . .”

Are you “locked in your room”  so to speak “for fear of” talking to others? Fear of letting them know that you are a believer – a follower of Jesus?

What will they say? Will they laugh? Tease? Make fun of you?

How long have you hidden from others? How many times have you locked yourself in, hiding your Bible, your faith, your Jesus?

“Jesus . . . among them . . .”

 He is there in that locked room with you, offering you peace.

He suffered for you.

Died for you.

Resurrected for you.

You’ve seen His hands and His side. Isn’t it time you open the locked door, go out, and show Jesus to others?

He’s sending you. And He’ll give you the peace to go. Unlock the door.

Further reading: John 20:19-28

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A New Normal

The New Normal

I don’t like it. And from what I gather, I’m not alone.

I’ve been thinking about it. Someday I’ll go back to the grocery store – without a mask. I’ll get my hair cut and colored. I’ll hug a friend, a neighbor. Or will I? Will it ever be the same? Experts tell us it won’t. It’ll be a new normal.

I haven’t liked the new normals of the past. The empty nest when the kids left home. Life without Mama after she passed. Life without Daddy. I really don’t want a new normal.

Spring was an especially difficult time here in Michigan to isolate. While I waited, I walked around my house. I cooked. I baked. I order groceries. I sent out sympathy cards. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom. I can’t seem to focus without your direction.

I had plenty to do. Spring cleaning. A lifetime of photos to sort – to scan – to organize. A devotional book to write. A Bible Study to promote. But no motivation. It rained. It hailed. Finally the sun shone! I stepped outside. I walked. Worked in the garden. Planted. Breathed in the fresh air. Soaked up the sunshine. I prayed. Oh God. Give me wisdom.

The wisdom is found in the Word. He is the wisdom. I listened. He spoke. I heard “Jesus whispers!”

“Kathi, you are coming to a crossroad. This is where the paths meet. This is where wisdom takes her stand. This is where you take your stand. Wisdom is crying out to you. Stand at these crossroads and look at your past. Ask for the ancient paths, the paths where you have found wisdom before. Ask for the good way. Find it. Walk in that way. It’s where you’ll find rest for your soul.” 

Now it’s late summer. Strict isolation has ended yet we are constantly aware of “the virus.” It’s an enemy. It haunts. It taunts.  We still don’t know what the future holds.

We are at a crossroad. I have a choice. I determine my new normal. I want to be wise in choosing the path I take out of this time of isolation, social distancing, mask wearing. Of lockdown. Of stay-at-home.

Wisdom is crying out to me. Am I listening? Am I heeding the message?

I look at the past as the Word says. Good decisions. Bad decisions. I’ll be wise to learn from both.

I consider the ancient paths. Hebrews, chapter 11, begins by telling us that the “ancients” were commended for their faith. Then it gives example after example of those who exhibited tremendous faith. This is where I start – in the Word. A bit further, in chapter 13, I read to remember those who spoke the word of God to me – to imitate their faith. So as I consider the past, I ask, Where have I seen wisdom in action? Who displayed wisdom? Who modeled it? I think of those strongholds of the faith – Corrie tenBoom, who hid Jews in her home during the Holocaust and was herself punished in a concentration camp. She walked in “the good way.” I think of missionaries through the centuries. I think of Reverend Lindner, who led me to Christ – who faithfully taught children about Jesus. As I look at the “ancient paths,” I think of countless, wise models of wisdom. Those who have taken the “good way” God tells me to take – as I choose the path at this “crossroad” in my life.

What have I learned during these unprecedented, unwanted months? I’ve been comfortable, but I’ve observed others who are not. I’ve known people with COVID19 who have recovered; and I’ve know some who’ve suffered unbearably from it. I’ve spent days filled with anxiety; I’ve spent days filled with contentment. But most of those days are filled with a sense of uneasiness. None have been “normal.”  Families are struggling. Friends have lost their loved ones and cannot have a funeral. Drive-through funeral visitations have become a norm in my community. I remember the days of sitting at a social distance with my own flesh and blood in order to speak for a few minutes. I FaceTimed or Zoomed with my family that live away. I’ve learned that although the expression, “we’re all in this together” is tossed around with the purpose of bringing hope and encouragement, hate is nonetheless sown, as well, and it germinates and produces an ugly poisonous plant. Politics always seem to have the trump card in every discussion, and the rules change as the game progresses. I’m truly not fond of facing a “new normal.”

This time will end. I’m at a crossroad. And you are too. We face a “new normal.” I don’t want to choose the comfortable path that I used to think was the most important thing in this world. I want to have learned from what we’ve been through. I want to reach out – physically and in spirit – to those who are struggling. I want to play by God’s rules. I want the seed I sow to produce a beautiful plant – one that glorifies God. I want to choose the “good way” and walk in it. And as I hear “Jesus whispers,” (the Word of God) I’ll find rest for my soul in that “way.” Rest is what it’s all about. Not the rest I get at night when I sleep. Or the rest I encounter when I sit around the house these days, lacking energy or purpose. But the rest I read about in the Word. The rest He promises. The rest I desire. The rest of my spirit. The rest that brings me peace, knowing everything is well, knowing my future is secure. (I wrote a bit about rest in another recent post in this series: https://kathiwaligora.com/shelter-in-place/)

Your future is before you. Let’s not be overly concerned about finding the “new normal,” but be more concerned about choosing the right path at this crossroad; the “way” – the “good way” – and walking in it.

Further Reading: Proverbs 8:2; Jeremiah 6:16; Hebrews 11; Hebrews 13:7

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Social Distancing

Social Distancing. Is this term an oxymoron? How can one truly “socialize” while being “distant”? Social distancing is certainly more difficult for some of us than others. But none of us can use it as an excuse not to socialize. We simply need to learn how to socialize at a distance.

Jesus never practiced social distancing. No barriers existed between Jesus and the people.

He was going from Judea to Galilee. The Jews did not “socialize” with the Samaritans, so it was especially unusual that Jesus would go through Samaria on His way to Galilee. But He did. “Smack dab” through Samaria, purposely pausing at Jacob’s Well, near Sychar. It appears He planned it that way to “socialize” with a Samaritan woman – a broken, sinful, spiritually thirsty woman. A woman who needed Living Water. “I Am,” He said.

On another occasion, when His disciples tried to “shoo” the children away, Jesus said, “Let the children come to me.” He blessed them. He washed the feet of others. He healed multitudes. He fed thousands. He raised the dead. He was God in the flesh, truly above all, yet nothing was beneath Him. He socialized with purpose.

And Jesus sent us to do the same. We are clearly given what is called “The Great Commission.” It involves socializing.

Jesus is unchanging.

He is the “same yesterday, today, and forever.”

And His message is unchanging.

We are accustomed to meeting with people – face-to face. Large groups. Small groups. One-on-one. We are used to going next door to meet with others, or flying across the country.

Now things have changed. But Jesus hasn’t changed, nor has His message. It is the same message:  “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” He says. We still are commissioned to “go” and “baptize” and “teach.” Only our means of doing so have changed.

During this time of social distancing, small businesses have had to become creative. We call and order paint and supplies from our local Sherwin Williams, drive up, and open the back gate of our Enclave. The employee comes out the door, masked but her eyes displaying a brilliant smile. She loads the supplies into the back of our car and thanks us for our business.

A couple began a new cereal company shortly before the pandemic shutdowns began. Now, they safely and distantly provide samples to potential customers who drive around the couple’s u-shaped driveway.

We have more opportunities today, even while practicing social distancing, than people have had through the ages before us. Telephones and the internet offer a multitude of options to serve and minister to people every day. Zoom enables congregants to gather online – for meetings, prayer, and to socialize. People meet one-on-one, six feet apart in front yards, parks, or driveways. The purposeful are creative.

Social distancing requirements do not obstruct our commission. It’s still the same commission from an unchanging Savior. Be creative, my friend. People are thirsting, now perhaps more than ever. Share the “Living Water.” Go.

Further Reading: Matthew 28:19; Hebrews 13:8 

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Welcome!

Thank you for subscribing to my writing on my webpage.  With your subscription, you’ll receive each new posting. While you’re on the site, please browse! You’ll find may blogs from the past – some of which will speak to you. 

A very gifted specialist, Scott Eikenberry, from RelivitMedia has worked diligently to (re)develop my website, so it’s “up and going” strong now.

Thanks for your patience regarding your subscription! 

Look for new postings soon!

Lots of blessings to you. I hope you are enjoying your summer! Together, let’s set our hearts on the pilgrimage!

Kathi

 

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Shelter in Place

It’s a new term to me – first introduced a short time ago when we Americans were told to stay home!

My home is indeed a shelter. In the middle of the Michigan mitten, about halfway between Detroit and Chicago, our country home becomes the perfect year-round shelter. Cool in summer, surrounded by sycamores with leaves larger than dinner plates and abundant maples with deep green leaves – thousands of leaves – all creating shade from the hot sun. Comfortably warm in winter, heated by a massive outdoor furnace, boiling and pumping water through pipes, radiating throughout the house. So the home itself is a greatly appreciated and welcomed shelter, but staying there – sheltering in place, day after day, week after week, month after month – is quite another thing, isn’t it?

Natural disasters draw me home.
Man-made or mistakenly-spread disasters, such as COVID19, also draw me home. I
feel safe, secure, and comfortable in my home. It’s where I most often want to
be. But it’s not where I want to stay
or truly shelter.

My body is comfortable to Shelter in Place,

but my spirit yearns for more.

When I became a Christian, I became a new person in spirit. And ever since, my spirit yearns to shelter in the Father. The Psalmist (Psalm 91) refers to that place of shelter as the secret place of the Most High God, El Elyon. And when we dwell, actually reside, in that secret place, we find rest. Rest of mind – peace – assurance. Isn’t rest what we really want? I do.

I look for that secret place.

I yearn for that secret place.

And I find that secret place.

The term secret place most often refers to the way our soul is in
relationship with God. It is the place Jesus speaks of when he instructs us to
go to a room with the door shut when
we pray – a place of solitude with God – a place set aside for time alone with
God. It is an intentional decision to spend time in the Word, praying and
listening. God meets us there. It is in this secret place we discover Him as “our
refuge and fortress, my God in whom I trust.”

The stay at home order from our government is nothing
like the stay at home offer from God.
God doesn’t order it. He offers it.

 “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91:1

Charles Spurgeon, renown preacher
of old, wrote about this first verse of Psalm 91: “The blessings here promised
are not for all believers, but for those who live in close fellowship with God
. . . all do not dwell in the most
holy place; they run to it at times, and enjoy occasional approaches, but they
do not habitually reside in the mysterious presence. Those who [do] . . .  become possessors of rare and special
benefits, which are missed by those who follow [from] afar.” He refers to those
believers who reside in God’s secret place as “constant guests,” remaining
under God’s protection.

Psalm 27:5 tells us that in our days of trouble God will keep us safe in His secret place- He will hide us there and shelter us in place.

So, while I am in mid-Michigan,
sheltering in place in my comfortable surroundings, my main focus will remain finding
shelter, being a “constant guest,” in the Father’s secret place. That’s where I
– and you – will find true refuge – not just through the COVID19 crisis, but
every day – forever.  

John 3:3

Psalm 91:1,2

Matthew 6:6

Psalm 27:5

Look for Kathi’s other articles: Today’s new language. Informal discourse from a stay-at-home English teacher.