Disappointment… and Promotion

IMG_5901 axel ice cream oops

 

There’s nothing quite like disappointment to reveal what we really think.

A.W. Tozer wrote: ‘What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.’

Disappointment then, can be a deal breaker for us, or a notice that we are about to be sent to take a course that will upgrade our knowledge and prepare us for a promotion. Disappointment can reveal weaknesses in our assumptions about God and either cause us to turn back or motivate us to press on and pursue him to learn about the aspect of himself that he wants to show us next.

Pioneers learn to handle disappointment well because they need to learn from their own mistakes, simply because there aren’t that many ahead of them who have gone this way before. Learning from one’s own mistakes has the unexpected bonus of appreciating the wisdom and experience of others when the opportunity is there. Pioneers also learn to discern the difference between the wisdom of those who have pressed on in spite of set-backs, and the negativity of those who are sitting in their own disappointment, watching it congeal into bitterness.

God is good and nothing is impossible for Him. There’s always more to learn about him and he wants to draw us into deeper relationship. Keep going.

 

 

The Seeker

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Those who seek after a great deal of knowledge and information about the ways of God are really trying to satisfy their reasonings and to attain to God by means other than those of the spirituals. In no such manner can you attain a true and passionate love for the Lord. Such men who seek after God by the acquisition of information about God and acquiring information about the Scriptures are really nothing more than scholars. They do not know the unseen realms, nor do they realize that hidden things of God are found only within the spirit. Nor have they come to touch those joys which abide in the inmost depths of the believer, that place where God keeps His throne and communicates Himself to the one who comes and joins Him in that place.

-Miguel de Molinos (1628-1696)

When Help Doesn’t Help

 

IMG_5933 helping bw

I wish I had learned this many years ago. It could have saved me a lot of frustration, grief and disappointment. This is wisdom.

Five principles to live by when helping others:

1- Never work harder on someone else’s problem than they do.

2- You can’t help someone who doesn’t have a problem.

3- If you solve a problem for someone instead of with them, you will only have to do it again.

4- If someone asks for your help you have permission to ask them about ALL the details of why and how the problem occurred.

5- Helping someone who refuses to repent [change] is dumb.

-by Kris Vallatton.

 

I would also add: You have the right to ask if anyone has tried to help before and where they are now.

 

Brothers and sisters, we urge you to warn those who are lazy. Encourage those who are timid. Take tender care of those who are weak. Be patient with everyone. (1 Thessalonians 5:14)

Play On

 

Children need the freedom and time to play. Play is not a luxury. Play is a necessity. ~Kay Redfield Jamison

 

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We don’t stop playing when we stop growing; we stop growing when we stop playing.

Rise Up

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What if a child labeled herself according to her past experience?

“I’m a roller/creeper. I’m a hollerer roller/creeper. I sort of go backwards and when I get stuck under the furniture I holler and someone comes and picks me up and gives me a ride back to the center of the room. Works for me. My unique perspective allows me to be an expert on dust bunnies and potential choking hazards society leaves lying about (thoughtless of the needs of minorities like me.)

Yes, I know it’s hazardous to my health, but I am compelled to put everything in my mouth, you know. It’s in my DNA. Why fight it?

I tried walking. Several times. It was a humiliating experience. Not my gift. I’ll stick to what I’m good at, thank you. Besides, my peers here in the nursery approve.”

 

At what age do we cease to look to our Father for our true identity? How old are we when we cease to hear the you-can-do-it encouragements of the One who knows our potential is vastly greater than what we have so far realized? When did we start to allow our peers in the nursery to set the bar for what is possible? How many ways have we justified stifling the urge inside that tells us that there must be more than this?

To live is to grow and to change. The past does not define us. Our Creator defines us -and what He sees is beyond our greatest imaginations.

Rise up.

Walk.

 

My Grandmother, the Photographer

grandma's early for the parade

Grandma was what they called “a character.” If you’re old enough to remember Tugboat Annie or Ma Kettle she could have been type-cast in either of those roles. I’ve written about my mother before so this Mother’s Day I’d like to honour my other mother.

She ran a boarding house in downtown east Calgary during the war years up until the end of the fifties. She told us it used to be the Northwest Mounted Police officer’s quarters before that. But it’s hard to know for sure. She was an honest woman, but facts underwent some sort of redistribution once they went through the shuffling process in her brain. Sometimes she just grabbed a date from one pile, a place from another and a name from a third and wound them all up in a story that we fondly referred to as “Grandma’s version.”

She could read if she was allowed to point to the words and move her lips, but bits of the information she gleaned that way ended up in scattered fact piles that just added colour to her already improvised histories. She said the one room school burned down before she was in third grade and the neighbours who helped build the first one never got around to help build a second so that’s all the learnin’ she got. Since the home she grew up in was thirty miles from the nearest road, that story was plausible.

Everyone all the way downtown knew her, including the shopkeepers, the bus drivers, the preachers at the Prophetic Bible Institute and the folks at city hall. She may not have been able to read books well, but she could read people and she was the ultimate extrovert and filled the house with all manner of friends, from the chief of police to the homeless guy with a three-legged dog. As a teen I remember her carrying around a camera with her and setting off a flash at some of the most inopportune times. (Maybe that’s where I got the habit.)

When my father had to reduce his worldly goods to fit into a room at the lodge I decided to put his photos on a digital frame. Since his memory is failing he asked me to label them. That’s when I found my grandmother’s photo albums with page after page of unidentifiable torsos. They all looked like healthy torsos but my grandmother had her own concept of photographic composition. She knew who they were. They make me smile. May I present some of her work?

 

 

Creative use of negative space

grandma's drapes

 

Portrait of Grandma’s favourite TV evangelist, Rex Humbard

 

grandma'srexhumbard

 

Grandma truly perfected the candid reluctant pose

 

grandma'scandidpose

 

Colour photography thrilled her, especially when she chose the outfits.

 

Dwayne, Melody, Wade Leah, Mervin

Happy Irthday Ladies”. A cake and a record of someone’s efforts to attach mauve lace to a green tablecloth. Perhaps it had ecological significance.

grandma'scake

 

I can just hear her saying, “Here, Daddy. Hold my purse while I take a picture of you.”

 

grandpa's purse

 

Romantic anniversary shoots were her specialty.

 

grandma'sanniversary portait

 

Grandma taught her family her photographic techniques so they could pinch-hit in an emergency. This is Grandma and Grandpa’s 50th anniversary.

grandma's50th

 

Choosing the right setting communicates so much, and what could be more appropriate for a family from the dust bowl than a Saskatchewan sandstorm.

Dorsey Family

The truth is, she may have embarrassed me half to death, but I adored my grandmother. Since my own mother was often ill or working she was my main caretaker. She was a camp counselor at 81 years old and her cabin of girls loved her because she knew how to have fun -and she never read the rules.

She the one with the biggest smile.

The Donaldson Family

 

 

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

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“You know what, Nana? Leaders need helpers. A leader needs helpers cuz if they don’t have helpers they don’t have anyone to lead.”

I was playing dolls with my four-year old granddaughter when she said this out of the blue. I don’t know where it came from; perhaps she was processing what it meant to have a turn being “the helper” at preschool, but knowing the Lord’s love of revealing wisdom to children he may have just been joining us on the living room floor.

I have myself been processing what leadership and helpership mean in the context of learning to submit to one another (Ephesians 5:21).

Am I the only one who has images of whips and ridiculous leather costumes or Inquisitor’s tools pop unbidden into my less than pure mind when I hear the word “submission?”

Am I the only one who is embarrassed by what non-Christians must see when they look at competitiveness and ambition between “ministries” seeking more bums in seats?

Am I the only one who tires of authoritarian-style leadership where the gulf between platform people and audience people grows wider?

Am I the only one who groans at the disrespect and harsh criticism of people in the public eye lobbed by self-labeled experts who have no actual relationship with those they seem to need to fix?

Am I the only one who cringes when I hear another stern message that lords anatomy over character and calls for people making up half the population of the world to sit down and shut up without mentioning their own obligation to submit to one another and to love sacrificially like Jesus?

Am I the only one to sigh with disappointment when members of that population lob scathing incendiaries right back?

Am I the only one who tires of arguments about who merits the role of leader -or leader of leaders- in a hierarchical system that places official credentials above the ability to love -or on the other hand, the ability to demonstrate well-intended kindness above both knowledge of the scriptures and the character of God in an intimate relationship with the Holy?

Who is a leader in the big C Church?

Perhaps a leader is someone who helps his or her helpers.

No doubt there is a need for leadership. In the days of Judges when everyone “did what was right in their own eyes” not many people “did right” by others and me-first divisions resulted in all sorts of nastiness. Paul wrote that not many should strive to become teachers realizing that a higher degree of accountability would be applied to teachers, but implied that some definitely should become teachers like Priscilla and Aquila whom he honoured. He also gave lists of qualities to look for in leaders and the kind of gifts needed in leadership (none of which were of any use without the essential qualification of the ability to love). The Bible states clearly that consideration, honour and respect (including, in some cases, financial respect) ought to be given to leaders.

I heard a recognized leader (one who promotes others above himself) say that all sorts of people from unexpected (usually anti-Christian) backgrounds were showing up at their gatherings. His response? “Everyone is welcome! Not everyone gets to preach.”

A man I admire asked me to proof-read his resumé when he applied for a position as lead pastor of a church. I was impressed that he said, essentially, “These are my gifts, and these are not.”

“When it comes to [one area in particular],” he wrote light-heartedly, “I believe in the priesthood of believers and raising up others ready to use their gifts.” He went on to say, “I do not own the pulpit and if someone in the congregation is demonstrating a gift for building up others through public speaking, I will encourage them to do so.” Then he added, “I believe in the priesthood of all believers, but not in the leadership of all believers -until they are equipped.”

Who determines when leaders are ready? A board of examiners from the school for hoop-jumpers? Well for some this might be the process God chose for them to learn to give up their own desires and to go the second mile. For others such methods become a way to disqualify those not intellectually-oriented enough to attend seminary, but who still have a lot of wisdom to share. While recognizing and respecting a dire need for teachers with the calling to study and to teach accurately, I seriously wonder if the Lord meant  leadership to be confined to those with the ability to be sermonizers.

I don’t know who said this (care to help me here?) but I love this quote: A man who leads when no one follows is going for a walk.

I wonder if a true leader is chosen by those who, by a willingness to help him or her, demonstrate the willingness to follow. I wonder if a willingness to both lead and follow is the result of the willingness to be helped. I wonder if recognizing a leader is recognizing in someone the ability to raise others up to become leaders themselves by helping to develop whatever gifts God has placed in them.

My little granddaughter taught me to play a new game I was not familiar with. I helped her set up the board and the cards when she showed me where they went. She had no problem respectfully correcting me when I did something wrong. I had no problem submitting to her leadership. She was the expert here. When we were finished the game, she submitted to my expertise and helped set the table to get ready for a meal featuring her favourite entré , macaroni and cheese. Helpers helping helpers. Leaders submitting to each other.

A little child shall lead them.

Thank you, Abba, that You reveal yourself in whomever You choose. No wonder Jesus did a happy dance when He saw You do this.

At that moment Jesus himself was inspired with joy, and exclaimed, “O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, I thank you for hiding these things from the clever and the intelligent and for showing them to mere children! Yes, I thank you, Father, that this was your will.” (Luke 10:21 Phillips)

Binky

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The day Grampa Thomson came for Sunday dinner was a day of joy for our little girl. He was a kindly usher at the church we attended and bragged that he was not as old as God, but he may have been as old as dirt -and everybody called him Grampa. He was still an engaging storyteller and always had time for young children. “Lally” sat beside him at the dinner table and helped him count his peas and told him where the chocolate milk was hidden in the fridge. She was thrilled when he asked if he could have a little bit to go with his apple pie and ran to get him some.

“Put it in the Smurf cup, Mommy!”
“Oh, yes, Mom! I love Smurf cups!”  he laughed.

When we moved to the living room to drink our tea (and chocolate milk) in more comfortable chairs, she didn’t run off with the other children, but sat on the floor by his feet playing with her doll, as she listened to every word he said. We hadn’t seen her quite so taken with another adult before. She was a child who made friends easily and there were other children amongst our guests that day, but she preferred Grampa Thomson’s attention.

We were laughing at one of our friend’s extremely large fish stories when I saw her get up quietly and go to her room. When she returned she brought Binky in her arms. Binky held the honour of being her most prized possession, and since Binky was so prized it was morphing into a worn tattered greying memory of the soft fuzzy blanket that once cocooned the wee baby I walked the floors with when they were both still new. Because she was now a big girl at three-years old (and because experience taught us that misplacing Binky meant a night of high anxiety for all concerned) she knew it needed to stay in her room.

She walked up to Grampa Thomson and plunked Binky on his lap.

“This is for you,” she said.

I felt embarrassed, but he acted as if the Queen of Sheba had just placed the wealth of Cush before him.

“I am honoured,” he said, taking the bedraggled (and somewhat smelly) cloth and draping it over his shoulders. She leaned against his knee and smiled adoringly at his face. After a while he lifted her up on his lap and offered to share a corner of Binky with her. She rubbed the dangling part of silky blanket binding against her cheek. Grampa Thomson assured us he was fine with her there. She fell asleep in his lap with her head on his chest as we talked. When it was time to go he wrapped her in the precious blanket and carried her to bed himself. He whispered a prayer and gently stroked her curls.

“You have a very precious gift from God in this little girl,” he said. We smiled proudly.

We waved to our guests as they departed into the ice fog and squeaky snow of a northern night and, when we had closed the door, asked each other what her unusual behaviour was all about.

The next Sunday we were in our usual seats, the kids with faces washed and socks matching (a major accomplishment in those days). They squirmed on and under the seats until they could be released for Sunday School. That’s when Grampa Thomson came down the aisle with an offering plate.

“Look, Mommy!” our little one said, “It’s God again!”

“That’s not God, honey,” I whispered.

“But teacher said this is God’s house, and look! There he is!” She stood on her chair and waved. Grampa Thomson waved back.

We had some explaining to do when we got home, about God not living in a building, but living in our hearts, and it turned into another Sunday afternoon discussion between adults on teaching theology to children. She misunderstood; Grampa Thomson was not God, but in truth the love of Jesus was in this dear man’s heart and the children knew it.

What made me tear up, when I thought about it later, was the response of a child who, although mistaken, believed God, in the form of a kind old man, had come to her house for dinner. She listened to him, talked to him, but more importantly gave him a gift of the most precious thing she owned, the blanket she depended on to relieve anxiety when the lights went out and she was alone in the dark.

It makes me wonder if I am willing to give Him a gift of the things that comfort me, as well.

She is a fine woman with children of her own now, and this trait of being willing to give God her heart and all of the things she values most is still part of who she is. She is a good mom and a lover of Jesus Christ, and I am still proud of her.

Yesterday her three-year old called me on Facetime. I showed him the new floor I was putting in the room where he slept last time he was here with his cousins. Then I told him his cousins were away on a trip because their Mommy’s Grandma died, but she was not related to him and she was very, very old. Tears welled up in his big brown eyes and his lip quivered.

“But I never got to meet her,” he said, his mouth pulling down at the corners, “So I never got to say goodbye.”

His tender heart made me cry too. I know he will be a fine man -probably long before he is grown up.

He Makes me Whole Again

IMG_3561 seasons collide fernieThe Eternal is my shepherd,

He cares for me always.

columbia field Fairmont IMG_1030 - Copy He provides me rest in rich, green fields

IMG_2092 river bank green bush contrastbeside streams of refreshing water.

He soothes my fears;

He makes me whole again,IMG_3201 fernie red barn

steering me off worn, hard paths

to roads where truth and righteousness echo His name.

IMG_3311 high river sunsetEven in the unending shadows of death’s darkness,
    I am not overcome by fear.
Because You are with me in those dark moments,
    near with Your protection and guidance,
    I am comforted.

 IMG_2340 norbury fishermanYou spread out a table before me,
    provisions in the midst of attack from my enemies;
You care for all my needs, anointing my head with soothing, fragrant oil,
    filling my cup again and again with Your grace.

Morning Fog
Morning Fog

Certainly Your faithful protection and loving provision will pursue me
    where I go, always, everywhere.
I will always be with the Eternal,
    in Your house forever.

(Psalm 23 The Voice)

IMG_2266 norbury backlit

Thank You, Lord. I just thank You.

Thank you for everything.

You are good.