Spiritual Drought

“The water I give will be like a spring flowing inside you; bringing eternal life." ~ John 4:14

Buster and Ryan earned this vacation.  Hard work, disciplined saving and a quest for a place not yet known to them led them to Arizona for new adventures.

After a day sightseeing, they rented a small Jeep and headed into to the desert.  It wasn’t long for the cityscape turned to a bone dry basin of spiny cholla cacti.  As far as a flicker could fly, everything was being roasted and sautéed.

Soon their parched wilderness became monotonous.  When they turned to drive back, the Jeep overheated and died.  What had started as a whimsical journey quickly became a life threatening situation.

With nightfall approaching, they stayed in the vehicle, praying someone would find them.  They learned two things about the desert that night. 

First, its climate is bipolar; a paradox of heat and cold.  By day the desert sun is intense.  By night though, it’s cold is bone chilling.  No respite – no mercy!

As the second day began, they tried licking the condensation off the Jeep.  Searching unsucessfully for dew covered leaves, they eventually resorted to chewing plants to extract small amounts of liquid from them.

As a third day wore on, they hid beneath the Jeep to escape the sun’s intensity.  They were nearly driven mad by thirst, searching the horizon in vain for any form of rescue.  Late that day, Buster claimed he saw car lights off in the distance and took chase.  It turned out to be either a mirage or taillights as the car drove away. 

By day 4, the duo was desperately close to heat stroke.  In a last dich effort for survival, Ryan set out on foot to find help.  Dehydrated and exhausted, his trek lasted less than a mile before he collapsed in the sand.

Sometime later, a military Humvee saw his frail body lying by the road and laid him in the back seat.  They massaged his face with water and rubbed oil on his lips, gradually preparing his body to accept some hot sugar-laden tea (to keep him from gulping it down).

Unfortunately, Buster wasn’t so lucky.  They found his emaciated corpse next to the Jeep; his body no longer able to cool itself.

There is no more fundamental drive than the one extreme thirst produces.  Three to four days is the limit of human endurance without water.  Most of us will never experience the terror of extreme dehydration, but we will all go through spiritual droughts.

If you’ve had a spiritual dry spot and have moved past it – Praise God!  If however, you’re in the clutches of one now – there’s help.  Read His Word and pray regularly.  Trust Him through this.

He loves you dearly and will never abandon you.  These times help perfect our faith, improve our character, strengthen our walk and prepare us for greater tasks ahead.

Dear Lord, teach me to shed tears of joy for each challenge conquered.  That’s all for today.   Amen

Sea to See

“I’ll never abandon you.  I’ll be with you ‘til the end of time." ~ Matthew 28:20

After 12 years together, Tyler and Marci decided to tie the knot.  The ceremony was nothing special: no wedding gown, no ring, no cake.  No one thought to bring a camera.  Their parents were given two hours’ notice to meet them at the altar.  Marci was still amazed the minister agreed to marry them on such late notice.

They exchanged vows in a chapel decorated with flowers left over from another couple’s wedding.  Despite its spontaneous nonchalance, they loved each other.

The newlyweds drove to Santa Barbara and borrowed a friend’s small dingy.  They sailed off to enjoy a honeymoon sunset, even though storm warning flags flew briskly.  Tyler knew precious little about sailing, but how hard could it be?

They made it about 2 miles offshore before ominous clouds, strengthening winds, and steadily building waves started swamping the boat.  Marci frantically bailed water with her straw hat.  Tyler fired an outboard engine that proved virtually useless, as the propeller constantly rose out of the water in the plunging waves. 

As the sky continued to darken, Marci feared the worst.  The low rumble of thunder broke their silence. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” she asked.  “This may be our only day as a married couple!  We can’t make it back to the shore; only a miracle can save us.”

Tyler, seemingly undaunted by their predicament, thought for a moment before responding.  Then he pulled a fish scaling knife from its sheath and pointed it towards her.

“Marci, are you afraid of my knife?” he asked.

Incredulously, she snickered.  “We’re about to drown.  I’m not afraid of you or the knife in your hands.  I know you love me!”

Putting his knife safely back in its case, Tyler answered.  “I’ve no fear.  God loves me.  This storm’s in His hands!”

Falling to his knees, Tyler raised his face skyward.  "Lord.  Like your disciples in that boat long ago, we’re at peril upon an angry sea.  Then you spoke 'Peace, be still' and all was well.  I beg You to speak those words tonight.  Your will be done."

No sooner was his last word uttered did the boat stop rolling.  The rain turned to a fine mist.  Light appeared on the horizon.

"Oh, glorious God of my fathers, all is well.  Thank you!"

Friends, over time I’ve worried about many things – my health, my future, my finances, what people thought of me.  When I couldn't get my mind off of my problems, I found myself terrified.

But never fear that God doesn't love us or that He won't come through for us when we need Him. Accept the reality of His love, so that our fears don’t control us.

Lord of love, we can always trust You to rescue us.  Even when it seems that nothing’s happening in my life, I know You’re working.  You have a grand plan for me and You’ll present it right on time. Thank You!

Hurt People, Hurt

“We were healed because of His suffering." ~ Isaiah 53: 5

Makenzie woke, not wanting to get out of bed.  Nothing serious.  She just didn’t want to go to work; wishing instead for the weekend to come 24 hours early.  She hit the snooze button!

Her hope for tacking on a few more minutes of blissful sleep was interrupted by a harsh knock on the back door; the kind that usually meant trouble.

A quick glance from her bedroom window confirmed that Mrs. Cravitz was back, wanting to know when Makenzie was going to chop down that nasty, diseased tree.  She was convinced that it will infect her exotic flower garden.  

From the ferocity of her voice, it wasn’t the first time she'd practiced this conversation.  She's probably been telling her friends for some time and finally had just the right combination of accrued anger and tacit support to attack.  Makenzie listened without interruption until her neighbor just glared; hands on hips, cheeks flushed with rage.

Time stopped briefly.

Makenzie’s anger boiled, churning within and hungry for destruction.  Unrestrained, her wrath might force her to say things she would regret later.

Her first thought was to fetch a pen and paper.  She wanted to write it down this time.  In all caps she imagined scrawling "CORKSCREW HAZEL.”  Then she’d hand it over with an insincere smile that barely hid her urge to hit the old woman.  “Google it!"

Corkscrew Hazel is a shrub grown for its gnarled branches.  Its twigs are artistic and carefree, turning in random ways.  Makenzie loved nature's chaos – it helped her unwind.

But before she could speak, Isaiah 53:5 came to mind.  When faced with pain, Jesus flipped it around, setting a different example.  He was hurt by us, and returned His peace in response to the pain we caused.

Perhaps it’s not about the tree at all, she reasoned.  Maybe this lonely woman is carrying a hidden burden.  It’s well-known that ‘hurt people ... hurt people,’ inflicting their wounds on others.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cravitz,” Makenzie began.  “I was just about to make a fresh pot of coffee.  Could I interest you in a cup?  I’m much better company after I had a little hot java.”

Cravitz stood dumbstruck.  She’d come looking for a fight, but something in the younger woman’s tone seemed to thaw her hostility.  “And we can discuss that awful tree?” she added.

“Of course,” Makenzie responded.  What began as probable verbal warfare ended in a caring friendship.  Mrs. Cravitz eventually grew to appreciate the peculiarity of that gnarly tree.

Makenzie’s ability to shift gears, to see an extremely difficult situation from a different perspective, made it easier to show compassion.  It’s easier to want to help when you grasp that someone else may be hurting.

Jesus, please help me see those crippled by broken relationships or crushed dreams in a different light.  Teach me to act more like You did – with compassion so that by Your wounds the wounds of other are healed, too.  Amen

Sweet Surrender

“His unfailing love and mercy continue as sure as the sunrise." ~ Lamentations 3:22-23   

On a dreary February afternoon, Grace dutifully made her way to the Chapel.  Before Christians can celebrate Easter, they must first pass through Lent which begins on Ash Wednesday.  Words like ‘sacrifice’ and ‘discipline’ are often used in ways that suggest Lent is something to be endured rather than appreciated.

She reluctantly shuffled obediently toward the altar wearing the lines of remorse across her face.  Grace was struck by the menacing words, “Thou are dust,” pronounced over each person as their foreheads were blackened with the charred ash of last year’s palms.

The crucifix, the priest’s solemn expression, and the smell of ash assailed her senses.  Childhood memories of giving up candy, sitting through Stations of the Cross, and the ocean flooded her consciousness. 

Wait!  What does the ocean have to do with Lent she wondered, trying to refocus her thoughts.  Her mind wandered to the time she first encountered a crystal blue ocean.

The water was a little chilly as she dipped her toes and feet in the water.  As she moved into deeper water, waves began crashing against her body.  Grace jumped up each time a wave came over her waist, biding a little more time to adjust to the temperature of the salty water.

Moving into even deeper water, she turned her body sideways so that she didn’t take the full force of the wave on her chest.  The water’s too powerful otherwise.  Finally, she dove into the next wave and fully immersed herself.

For the next few minutes, Grace kept her feet off the sandy bottom, moving her arms and legs to tread water.  She just went with the flow, becoming ONE with the ocean; surrendering to its power, floating freely.  

“Amen,” she muttered, hearkening back to reality; receiving the symbolic reminder of her own mortality.  Once back in the pew, Grace reflected on her oceanic daydream. 

Sometimes, we stubbornly face the waves with our feet firmly planted in the sand; falsely believing we can overpower them.  It’s not long before we’re knocked down with saltwater up to our eyeballs.  If we don’t change what we’re doing, we’ll drown.    

Life’s like that she thought.  Lent is more than giving something up.

Rather, it’s a season of more deeply ‘giving in’ or ‘surrendering to’ something more beautiful, more just, more kind, more acceptable to Christ.   It’s a second chance; six weeks to take a long,  loving look at our lives to see if our values and priorities are in line with God’s desires for us. 

Maybe we should breathe deeply and float for a while as we appreciate His beauty and goodness that restores our souls.

Lord, like You, the ocean is a source of life, strength and tranquility.  Let this Lenten season be, for me, a do-over; an chance to surrender my whole heart to You.  Help it be a meaningful time of prayer, contrition, and giving myself to others.  Amen

Not Bigger Than Life

“Do good always and help one another often." ~ Hebrews 13:16

It’s never been mainstream; there are far more lucrative sports.  Explosive, massive strength is pretty much all that shotput requires.  But Cameron Lyle had a passion for it.  He loved sweating, competing and getting better.

Of course, he complained occasionally under the blazing sun of an intense workout, but in the big picture it helped him develop the heart and motivation to push through the tough times.  Like the day he walked into his coach’s office, closed the door, and said “Coach, we need to talk.”

A senior at the University of New Hampshire, Lyle had trained rigorously for almost ten years to compete in the legendary Penn Relays, the oldest and most celebrated collegiate track and field competition in the country.  Having already medaled multiple times at the conference level, he was only days away from his final chance at gold medals, possibly a spot on the US Olympic team.

“Acute lymphoblastic leukemia,” he began.  “I’m sorry to be letting the team down, but my athletic career is over.”

“OMG Cam,” the coach responded.  “When do you start treatment?”

“Not me Coach,” Lyle continued.  “I’m a MATCH; a bone marrow match.   Two years ago they took a swab from my cheek for a bone marrow registry in the cafeteria.  I forgot all about it, then the other day the phone rang and doctors told me a 28 year old man who has blood cancer and only six months to live is a perfect 100% match with me.  It’s a 1 in 5 million chance.”

The coach went white as chalk.  His mouth was frozen wide, unable to speak, totally stunned as the consequences bounced around inside his skull.  No tournament . . . no chance to be an Olympian.  Then his chiseled jaw lifted with a proud, pleasant smile.

“Let’s see,” he said.  “Twelve throws in Binghamton or save a life?  It’s a no brainer.  Sport is not bigger than life.  God Bless You!”  

He was so proud of his young athlete he could barely contain himself.  He gave up his shot for the right reason.  And in the end, he contributed to their athletic programs not only as an athlete and as a student, but a man of great character.  You can’t ask for more than that.

According to the National Marrow Donor Program, 12,000 blood cancer patients require marrow or umbilical cord blood transplants in the United States each year.  Seventy percent of those patients don’t have donor matches in their families and rest their hopes on the 10.5 million potential donors in the Bone Marrow registry.

Be the Match by joining the registry at https://join.bethematch.org.

Let it be me Lord, please let me Be the Match for someone in need.  And if not me Lord, let it be someone who hears Your call to save a strangers life.  Don’t let me stand before You empty handed, help me make a miracle happen.  Amen

Recycled

1. “Good people care for their animals; wicked people are cruel to theirs." ~ Proverbs 12:10  

She appeared in the wintery, dead of night – alone, hungry, and more than half dead.  Where there should’ve been soft downy fur, big patches of hair were gone from continually gnawing at inflamed raw skin.  At first Rosie couldn’t even tell she was a dog.

Her eyes had no shine and she lacked the exuberance a puppy should have.  Soft whimpers escaped her tiny mouth in pathetic peeps.  Rosie lived out in the country and had to run off several wild dogs looking for food each week.  But one look into those frightened little brown eyes and she couldn’t . . . not this time . . . not this one.

“Come here Angel,” Rosie said, as if she could see beyond the tragedy, or maybe into it.   It seemed the perfect name.  It stuck.

Luckily the battered pup had stumbled on an old woman who rarely gave up on anything, even decades-old National Geographics.  She saved the wire from spiral notebooks, empty coffee cans, and enough matchbooks to start a forest fire.  Rosie salvaged whatever she could before any appliance entered the afterlife.   There’s always a little use, a little life left in anything, and who’s to say when something is done for good.

She knew better than to call the vet; she knew what he’d do.  This dog was too far gone to save; any fool could see that.

She fed her, gave her water, and bathed her in Desitin (she’d kept from her 17 year old granddaughter’s diaper rash years ago) to treat the mange.

When Angel got to looking a bit less shocking, she called the vet.  Still a sack of bones, he diagnosed heartworm.  “It would be compassionate,” he told the stubborn, old woman, “to put her down.”

Rosie nodded.

Weeks later, the beautiful chocolate lab stood watch at the front of Rosie’s house.  It was no miracle; her condition didn’t magically improve.  Rosie had effectively ‘recycled’ the little fur ball with compassion, love and prayer.

Now she sleeps at the foot of Rosie’s bed, eats people food, and drinks buttermilk from a slightly used Frisbee.  She guards her human like the Secret Service – scaring away garden snakes and (at least in her own mind) thunderous lightning.  Their mutual partnership would continue for many years all because of an old woman’s stewardship.

Animals are precious beings in God's eyes - not human property, nor utilities or commodities.  We Christians understand the horror of crucifixion and the misery of innocent suffering.  Rosie identified with the weak, vulnerable, and unprotected.  Something in those tortured, angelic eyes reminded her that animals are a sacred trust from our Heavenly Father.

God of the universe, thank You for Your many gifts - for the beauty of creation and it’s rich and varied fruits, for clean water and fresh air, for food and shelter, animals and plants.   Forgive us for the times we’ve taken the earth's resources.   Amen