Spring has come…along with a few other uprisings. The skies are blue with scattered puffiness. The air is crisp with fragrant smells. And the temperature is pleasant, inviting outdoor activity. I can’t bear to be under a roof when lying in the sun beckons. It’s like my skin begs, “More vitamin D, please.” Vitamin D and sun on skin are related somehow. Spring is healthy and makes me feel good, until it happens.

Along with spring, come the menaces—the bugs, bees and weeds. Then from out of nowhere pops my bulging disc. Somewhere between L4 and L5 (lumbar vertebrae) I hear a scream, “Stop pulling weeds!” I admit it. I’m kind of soft, very much like a worm. It looks like the weeds win.

But God has a promise for us worms. “Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you. Though you are a lowly worm, . . . You will be a new threshing instrument with many sharp teeth” (Isa. 41:13-15).

Whew. I needed help, but I got more than that. I got TEETH. Ever seen a worm growl? “Grrrr.” God is making me new and powerful. Move on over weed, the whole hillside too, if I choose.
God tells us to, “Forget all . . .for I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun!” (Isa. 43:18-19). He goes on to say he is making pathways clear, deserts full of water and wild things thankful. Why is God doing this?

He’s doing it for me, the lowly worm, “so my chosen people can be refreshed” (v. 20). God promises to pour out his Spirit and his blessing (Isa. 44:3), so we can proudly claim, “I belong to the Lord.” And we “will write on [our] hand, ‘The Lord’s’ (v. 5).
That’s right, God’s making me new and powerful like a new plow. Picture a shiny, new John Deere on a field of weeds. I might smell like a worm but I’ve got new teeth, a refreshed growl and “The Lord’s” painted in yellow and green on my hand. Menaces beware.

(I hope my spine reads this blog.)

So how’s your spring? Send a comment, share your spring experience.
May you find time to be in the sun, to growl at the menaces and to brand “The Lord’s” on your hand. Be blessed.

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Yesterday’s entry in Streams in the Desert had a stirring poem by Archbishop William Alexander. The poem moved me as it spoke to my heart’s passion. Listen to this…

“If I have eaten my morsel alone,”
The patriarch spoke with scorn;
What would he think of the Church were he shown
Heathendom—huge, forlorn,
Godless, Christless, with soul unfed,
While the Church’s ailment is fullness of bread,
Eating her morsel alone?

“Freely you have received, so give,”
He says, who has given us all.
How will the soul in us longer live
Deaf to their starving call,
For whom the blood of the Lord was shed,
And His body broken to give them bread,
If we eat our morsel alone!

Oh Church, I confess to being a glutton, but I can no longer fully enjoy our feasts, the meetings of shared faith. My heart longs to take the abundance of life to those who hunger, those who cry out, those who have no hope.

To those who wait, “I don’t know how to get to you, but I’m coming. Hold on a little longer while I find my way and learn. I want to bring you a bite of hope, a bit of love and acceptance. I’m a coming. Don’t give up.”

To God, “Help me bring the answer to their cries. Show me how to do this. What is your way? Fill me with your amazing love and let it pour over them. Here am I.”

“Where is your brother Abel?” (Genesis 4:9)

At NorthWood Church in Keller, TX

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((sigh))   :0(

This has been a week of “Who am I?” Who really cares that I’m churchless, feeling homeless, and evidently Super Bowl Party-less?

Last Sunday night being our last at our great church, we left to answer God’s desire for us to start something new. While driving home, I felt a complete loneliness. Who will bring us chicken soup when we are all sick? Who will sit with us when we endure serious hospital stays? Who will call saying they miss us and love us? Who will care for us now?

What was I thinking? Why would God want this for us?

Isolated.

Alone.

Amongst herds of people, but lonely.

Like one living and working in New York surrounded by masses, but without community? Could this be . . .?
Is this how some people live?

 Not feeling loved. Not having anyone who really cares?

Is this the reason God wanted us to leave? To make a community where people will feel loved. Where through us, God will show love those who won’t go to church.

Within the last few weeks, Chuck and I made a “Not To Do” list, solidifying what we felt was God’s leading in our lives. We made a commitment to obey the call–go out of the church. Since he called us out of a great pastorate, it would defeat our obedience simply to join another. Even if we felt lonely or the need for fellowship, we were to keep to our task. We also listed that this was our call, and would allow our children to join any youth group’s activity of their choosing. (They have lots of friends in various groups, and have their Super Bowl Party invitation.) To a certain degree, we released them from supporting our call so they may follow God’s plan for their lives. This is all very strange and new territory to us.

God’s called us to live authentic Christ follower lives amongst those who need love the most. Maybe we needed to feel as those we are to reach.

A person without a home (feeling), without a community of genuine people who care, and without an invitation to a Super Bowl Party.

This week my song has been from an old sitcom, Cheers, where lonely people gathered, “I just wanna go where everybody knows my name . . .”

Where is the Super Bowl Party?
Where is our “Cheers”?

In the middle of this drifting feeling, I’m certain of God’s faithfulness and his promised gift–his love and presence. We have a home in him and really aren’t alone. He leads us and will help build our “Cheers” community.

This party will be a Super Party!
Do you wanna come . . . where everybody knows your name?
 

Staying means comfort, risk-free, known terrain, but going …

I hate change.
No I like change.
Uh-uh, change is disturbing.
No, it’s exciting. (there’s nothing like inner conflict!)
Gosh! I hate my life.
No, no. I really love my life, but these decisions are killing me.
Should I stay? Or Should I go?
 

While the beat of that song plays in your head, I’ll tell you we struggled. We struggled within ourselves. And we struggled with God. Then my husband and I finally came to the conclusion.

“Okay. We’ll go.” We’ll give it all up and follow God. (not like we weren’t totally given to ministry already!)

“It could never be better to stay once He [God] determines otherwise.” Streams in the Desert January 14th.

That may be right, but it doesn’t help the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of the future, the misunderstanding of others placed on us.

“He [God] goes on ahead of [us]” John 10:4

That’s more comforting. God is leading the way, going in front of us, and showing us the way.

F. B. Meyer states, “All the tomorrows of our life have to pass through Him before they can get to us.”

Now that’s a shield in which I can get behind and forge ahead.

Maybe going is the best answer when God says, “Go.” (check Matt. 28:19-20)

So we find ourselves taking an Abrahamic call. My husband resigned a great pastorate of over eight years. We don’t know where we are going. We are unsure of what we’re doing. We simply answered the call to go.

We didn’t come to this decision lightly. The struggle took a while and we often switched places with one sensing the call stronger and the other not. We never struggled with each other. But were united in intense struggle to do only what God wanted. My security was challenged. His identity challenged. This was all so new, and well…challenging!

Our last Sunday is January 25th. Then . . .

I have no more to write. I don’t know anything more. Going . . . with eyes wide open!