Reflections

I Corinthians 13:12--Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Welcome to my blog. This is where I muse about biblical truths that I uncover as I flit about my life as a wife, mom, daughter, friend, and natural-born dreamer. I’m fascinated by how things here on earth, both the tangible and intangible, reflect God’s nature and glory. I’m convinced that atheists have to work at not believing, because to me, it couldn’t be more obvious that HE IS.




June 16th, 2014

 

Since becoming a speaker for Stonecroft Ministries in 2012, I have traveled a ton of miles off the beaten path to reach Christian women clubs in small town Ohio and neighboring states.  Remarkably, I have never gotten lost.   While I’d love to attribute that accomplishment to my keen sense of direction and astute listening skills, all the credit belongs to my trusted driving companion, Samantha.  Samantha definitely knows her way around Ohio and is never frazzled by roadblocks or detours.  She always has an alternate route in her back pocket that she’s able to whip out in the time it takes for her to say, “recalculating.”   You guessed it, Samantha is my GPS.  And I never leave home without her.  Samantha has allowed me to give up counting stop signs and keeping my eyes peeled for the alpaca farm on the left that is supposed to cue me to “keep going.”   Having Samantha along for the ride frees me to enjoy the scenery and think more deeply. 

On a recent trip to the Cleveland area I got to thinking how Samantha and God are similar:  both are doggedly committed to helping me reach the final destination.  Samantha isn’t thrown for a loop when I follow my nose four miles to hunt down a Skinny Peppermint Mocha and God isn’t wringing his hands when I wander into old patterns for a season.  They simply recalculate. They leave it up to me to choose the ups and downs of country roads or cruise the fresh pavement of the interstate.  They don’t quit working once my odometer reaches a pre-determined number of miles, or my when my steering wheel has performed the precise number of right turns.  They are committed to the final destination—whatever it takes!

I just want to let out a huge sigh of relief.  I, for one, do not want the pressure of having to do everything right all the time in order to be assured of reaching my destination.  Sometimes I get jamming to a song and I drown out Samantha’s smooth voice announcing an upcoming turn.  Sometimes I get caught up in pride and turn a deaf ear to God’s whisper leading me back to the cross.  I need both my GPS and my GOD to be unrelenting and willing to say, “recalculating,” seventy-times seven, until I finally tune in. 

It’s interesting, even when I tell people that I have a GPS, well-meaning folks still proceed to give me very specific directions.  Some even pull out a paper map and begin tracing the route I should take.  While I appreciate the consideration and concern that I not get lost, their efforts are often wasted because I’m not usually listening very closely.    I’m perfectly comfortable not knowing in advance every turn I should make.  You see, I trust Samantha. She’s never failed me yet--well maybe mildly once or twice.   

While I wish people would stop giving me directions, I often wish God would unfold a map on my kitchen table and walk me through His recommended route.  I think I’d enjoy the scenery more, especially on those back, hilly, roads, if I knew my exit was coming.  But, God wants me to trust Him, even more than I trust Samantha.  He has truly never failed me.  I don’t know how He does it but somehow He has always been able to work all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).  No one recalculates better than God! 

 

 



January 23rd, 2014

The Day I Met Mercy

 

 

“You drive.  I don’t like driving at night,” my sister said tossing me the keys.  For a split-second my thoughts turned to my expired driver’s license.  “It’s not like I don’t have a license; it just expired,” I justified privately, jumping into the driver’s seat.  I loved driving my parents’ car and was especially eager to get behind the wheel after a semester at college without it.  The dark, winding, gravel road made driving even more thrilling for this city co-ed.  But a few moments into the trip I felt the gravel pull my compact car in one direction.  I corrected, but then felt a pull in the opposite direction.  I corrected again.  But the more I corrected, the worse it got.  Within a short distance I was in a full-on fish-tail.  Add a panicked foot to the gas instead of the brake and suddenly the only way out was over…and over…and over.  We landed upside down in the ditch.   Shaken but uninjured we crawled out of the driver’s side window and waited for help.  While waiting, my thoughts again turned to my expired license and I wasn’t so sure the police were going to and see it my way.  For a moment I thought about asking my sister to lie and say that she was driving.  But my conscience wouldn’t allow. 

            Soon a sweet elderly couple stopped and drove us back to the home we had been visiting that day.  Later we were taken to the hospital to be checked over.  On our way we drove by the accident site and looked incredulously at our totaled car.  We marveled how we made it out virtually unscathed.  My sister and I shared that while the car was flipping we felt as if we were being carried. 

            At the hospital we were met by a police officer who was there to take a report.  I nervously handed him my license and noticed he seemed considerably more interested in the expiration date than I had been previously.  Now, my mind was racing toward the consequences of totaling a LEASED vehicle while driving “without” a license. 

            The day arrived when I had to face the Dealership from which the car was leased.  There remained an inkling of hope that the little detail of the expiration of my license might be overlooked.  But as the manager slid the promissory note across the desk and asked me to   agree to the repayment terms of over $5000, reality took over.  To this nineteen year old who was already swimming in student loans, the blow hit hard.  I didn’t know how I would pay my debt. 

            A few days later, as my break drew to a close, I headed back to college with a considerably heavier burden than when I left.  Weeks passed and I eventually came to terms with my debt; after all, I deserved the consequence.  I chose to trust that God would somehow make a way for me. 

            Then one day I received an excited call from my mother.   She was holding in her hand the promissory note I had signed with the word, “Void” stamped across it!  The Car Dealership had decided to not hold me responsible for the debt!  With tears of joy and relief rolling down my cheeks, I asked, “How could this be?”  Then my mom told me that a few weeks earlier, after praying, she wrote a letter to the Dealership and asked for mercy.  “Mercy?  From a Car Dealership?” I mused.  

            I had often heard grace defined as God giving us what we don’t deserve.  But that day I became personally acquainted with Grace’s cousin, Mercy.  Mercy—when God holds back what we do deserve.  I guess you could say I met Mercy by accident.   And I’ve been running into her ever since.  In fact, my whole life has been marked by Mercy and I’m forever grateful.   


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