The Praying Places

 “Be still, and know that I am God!" ~ Proverbs 46:10

While babysitting his six-year-old nephew Bryson in a suburb near NYC, the two enjoyed exploring a small pond near the boy’s home. “I know why you like coming here, Uncle Jim,” the boy said. “Because there’s no nature where you live!”

Central Park was only a few blocks away from Uncle Jim’s apartment, but Bryson was right. When he looked out his bedroom window from the 18^th floor, Jim could see only brick walls and a tiny sliver of grey sky. The boy’s comment provided a perfect opening to better explain his faith.

“You’re very wise Bryson,” Jim replied. “Being in nature - by the seashore, in the mountains, near a lake, or even in your own backyard, can be a wonderful invitation to pray.”

The boy looked puzzled. “I thought that’s what churches are for,” he wondered.

“Well, of course,” said Jim. “Churches are terrific places to pray, but we don’t always have access to them. You can pray just about anywhere - on the school bus or in a car, waiting in line, walking the dog, in the shower… even in bed.”

“But, for me, there’s something calming about the outdoors as if God’s inviting me to relax, observe, and explore all the beauty He created for us. It’s not a movie or a painting or anything else created by human hands, it’s something that He, himself designed.”

“There’s a special feeling I get seeing the immensity of the ocean, the endless number of stars, or the ever-changing cloud patterns. It reminds me of the mysterious beauty of our Creator God. Every fragrance is fresh, like the page of a new book. Each burst of birdsong is unique, a live chorus to wake my mind and shake off whatever sleepiness remains.”

“Even nature’s tiniest bits speak of God's magnificence. It’s the perfect place to pray. God listens to every prayer, wherever and whenever. Sit here and I’ll show you.”

“Take a deep breath, let your body relax,” Jim began. Use all your senses: What do you see? Notice the birds, the colors of the flowers, the size of the tall trees. What else?”

Now close your eyes. Do you hear the birds chirping? Are the trees rustling in the wind?”

“Notice what you smell. Do you detect the scent of plants, of animals, or the simple clean smell of fresh air?”

“What do you feel? Are these pine needles prickly? Do you feel the breeze? Touch what’s around you. Notice its texture.”

“Sit quietly for a while Bryson, soaking in God’s presence. Enjoying yourself among nature glorifies God. Spend some time in silence, listening for what He wants to tell you. Then say this prayer:

Almighty God, Your breath brings life to all creatures. While we enjoy the natural bounties You created for us, help us discover the light of Your presence, hear the voice of Your wisdom, and be inspired by Your creativity. Fill us with the breadth of your Spirit who brings peace, rest, and strength. Amen”

The Merry Misfits

 “You must deny yourself, take up His cross daily, and follow Me." ~ Luke 9:23

When the economy failed, so did Alyssa’s business. Tanking almost overnight, the company’s failure took almost every penny she’d saved. Everything had converged like a multi-car pileup.

Alyssa hadn’t been able to find any work since shuttering her business. Sadness quickly morphed into anger; depression followed. When she gathered up enough energy, she scanned the classifieds. Seeing none, Alyssa sat unchallenged for hours, consumed by anxiety. God seemed to be teaching her a lesson for every mistake she’d ever made. How could He possibly love her?

She turned her head skyward, whispering to the wind: "Lord, help me learn Your way."

A childhood friend suggested that she volunteer with dog rescue groups in the area. Animals had always been part of her growing-up years. Her parents constantly brought home sick or injured dogs and cats; even birds that had crashed into their windows. They’d nurse the little critters back to health and release them or find them homes.

So, she did just that and immediately felt drawn to the dogs hardest to adopt. The old ones. Those with medical conditions. The ones needing hospice care. There was ample space in her empty house … and a heart full of love, even if it was just for the short time they had left on earth.

As a frequent visitor to the nearby animal clinic with her own fosters, Alyssa ached to learn more about veterinary medicine. So, she began vet tech training. Balancing the dogs’ needs with her studying was demanding, yet Jeannette forged ahead with youthful enthusiasm. Upon graduation, she started treating animals at the clinic that had been loyal to her pets.

Sometimes she’d take stray pooches home from the clinic to give them personal care overnight. Word spread quickly. Vets would give out her number or people would contact her through social media. Soon she needed help because no dog was ever turned away.

Money left from her deceased father’s estate and several loyal patrons allowed Alyssa to purchase an old farmhouse on several acres and hire a full-time Vet and a small staff. The “Misfit Resort” opened for business caring for animals without a place to call home.

Although her circumstances didn’t change overnight, Alyssa’s outlook did. Depression eased. Shame lifted off her shoulders over time. She reclaimed her identity and sense of purpose in life.

Whenever she meets a broken and scared animal, Alyssa recalls when she thought she was beyond repair. These misfits had rekindled something inside her - something that’d been cracked and broken – and helped repair it.

Being a misfit is not something to overcome, but something to embrace. Finding where you belong in God’s world might take a while, but He’s always present - ready and willing to help you take your pain … and turn it into something great.

Gracious Father, thank You for all those whose K-9 hearts have been touched by foster care. Endow the fostering parents with sincere and enduring love as they welcome “misfits” into their homes. Amen 

Hopeful Again

 

“We are God’s handiwork, created for the good things He planned for us long ago." ~ Ephesians 2:10

When Amber looked in the mirror, she seemed already dead. She wasn't the same girl anymore. Her once hourglass figure had become skeletal. Heroin had stolen all her sunshine. It was only a matter of time before an overdose would permanently stop her agony.

By the grace of God and a failed robbery, she found herself in drug rehab (again). The first stage of withdrawal stage (dope sickness), lasted about 3 weeks. Extreme nausea, headaches, and joint pain nearly killed her. 

The next phase was far worse. Emotional volatility, memory problems, and insomnia robbed her of any pretense of serenity.  Some privileges returned by following the rules, attending meetings, and doing everything asked of her. Amber could now leave the grounds and walk around the vicinity for short periods.

She spotted a pay phone near a corner store on her first venture out. A little voice tempted her to get high. “Call a friend” the voice prompted, “Buy some dope, one time won’t hurt you!”

A sticker on the receiver read "Drug Abuse Hotline" followed by a phone number urging her to seek help. Just three little words meant to save her life (again). Amber walked back to rehab confident that she’d resisted the powerful urge.

The next day she headed out again, back to the pay phone, and cradled the receiver. No dial tone. Amber frantically scanned the street for another phone. That familiar craving had kicked in; nothing mattered more than getting high.

Instead, she spotted a young girl, maybe 5 years old, stepping off the curb and into the busy road. The drivers couldn’t see her; she was so tiny and vulnerable.

“God!” Amber cried out, “please protect her!”

Without thinking, the addict sprinted into traffic. Cars screeched to a halt; drivers honked. The terrified girl reached for Amber as time stood still.

Everything – the crowd, the noise, her drug craving dissolved into insignificance. Amber saw herself in that girl’s eyes - so trusting, so pure - the girl she’d once been before her addiction. She wanted to be more like that again.

“Let’s go, you’re OK now,’ she said in a comforting voice and cuddled the child tenderly. They shared some cookies, milk, and even a few giggles before Mom took her home.

Reflecting on the past few days, Amber knew that this time, with God’s help, she’d be able to stick with the program. He’d heard their desperate pleas for help – both hers and the little girl’s, never giving up on either.  He had plans for both that were good and not evil, plans to give them hopeful futures. If you keep this attitude of faith, God will always give you the last laugh.

Lord of all things, please do Your creative work in me, making me into a useful tool for Your service. Use my influence, and Your abilities, to bless my family, my friends, and those around me that need to more fully know Your grace. Amen

Leaders are Readers

 “Children, don’t resent when God corrects you, His reprimand is proof of his love." ~ Proverbs 3:11-12

Sonya grew up in a foster home, married a twenty-eight-year-old minister at age 13, and moved to Detroit. The couple had two sons, ages 8 and 10, together before he abandoned the family for another woman. 

With only a third-grade education, she worked several jobs to keep her family afloat. There were days when she left before the boys awoke and didn’t return home until they were asleep.  Though she herself had never learned to read, she knew education would be her children's ticket to a better life. “Boys,” she advised, “if you can read, you can learn anything you want to know.”

By all accounts, young Bennie was a troubled boy. He doodled in class, fought on the playground, and was disrespectful at home.  When he brought home an unsatisfactory report card placing him dead last in his fifth-grade class, Sonya knew she needed God’s wisdom in order to help her boys.

She took drastic steps, placing strict limits on the amount of TV the boys could watch. They had to complete their homework before they could go out to play. And Sonya took one additional step - insisting that they read 2 library books every week and write reviews on each one. She closely examined the reports, showing her approval with a checkmark at the top of the page.

It only took about one month before Bennie was rushing home from school to read his latest book. Before bed every night, he immersed himself in the Proverbs, a habit he would continue for the rest of his life. 

His mom was right. Reading was fun, and it made him smarter.

Sonya noticed an ember of curiosity within him and she helped fan it into a flame. She always had faith in them. She made no excuses for herself and would accept none from them – for their sake.

Books helped Bennie see that he really could learn things after all. By the end of sixth grade, his grades ranked at the top of his class. He excelled in high school, but having only $10 for college application fees, he completed only one. Scholarships and grants helped pay the aspiring doctor’s way through Yale and the U of M’s School of Medicine.

At age 33, Dr. Ben Carson became the youngest-ever Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins. He gained worldwide recognition in 1987 as the principal surgeon in the successful, 22-hour separation of Siamese twins joined at the head.

What made the difference for Ben?  He didn't have a great school district or rich, educated parents. But he did have a loving mother who valued education deeply and conveyed confidence in him. He had a growing faith. And he had books.

Lord, help me to see my children as who You designed them to be. Help me focus on Godly values and habits that will impact them for a lifetime, instead of filling up their time with activities the world says are important. Amen 

The Easter Promise

 “He’s not here; He has risen, just as He promised!" ~ Luke 24:6-7

For the first time in her life, Jenni wouldn’t be in church on Easter Sunday. She’d promised Eric, her boyfriend, that she’d go camping with him and some friends that weekend. She realized the mistake too late to cancel the trip. 

Now as they loaded the gear, Jenni kept replaying Easter memories: driving home from college to attend church with her family, melodious organ music, the aromatic smell of Easter lilies, and children dressed in their Sunday best. Easter was special.

As soon as they arrived at Cades Cove Campground, in the Smoky Mountains, Jenni hurried to the welcome station to ask the ranger if she knew if any of the churches were holding Easter services.

“If they are, no one told me,” she said shaking her head.

Cades Cove is one of the most popular spots in the park. Visitors travel its 11-mile loop by car, foot, or bicycle, to catch a glimpse of the area’s wildlife - deer, turkeys, foxes, even an occasional black bear.

Sunday morning Jenni woke early to heavy fog. No one else stirred. She left a note beside the coffeepot, grabbed her bike, and pedaled to Cades Cove. The meadow’s grass was fresh with dew. Dogwood blossoms dotted the woods. A doe and her fawn stared at her through the mist. Three miles in, she discovered Cades Cove Methodist Church.

A historical marker said its first congregation met in a simple log cabin with a dirt floor in 1820. A more permanent church was built in 1902 at a cost of $115. The white clapboard building had a sheet-metal roof and a simple bell tower.

Its doors were open. Jenni slipped inside. Twenty-four pews, a large wooden pulpit, and a time-worn piano.

She sat down and tickled the only keys she knew by heart: “Joyful, joyful, we adore thee…”

Then Jenni stepped up to the pulpit, opened the pages of a vintage leather Bible to Luke’s Gospel, and read the account of Jesus’ Resurrection aloud.

She looked up. A young couple with three small children stood in one of the doorways. Dad took off his hat. “Excuse me,” he said. “We heard the piano. Are you having Easter service here today?”

“Yes!” Jenni said. “Please, come in.”

Easter had come to her on its own. Christ had risen and was alive - for the women at the tomb, for her, and, now for others to share it with.

To close, the daughter suggested her favorite hymn, “Jesus Loves Me.” Mom asked if she could lead them in a closing prayer. They all bowed their heads. “Thank you, God, for Easter and new friends. Amen!”

They left the church into the warm spring sun, a day once again bright with the Promise of Easter.

Almighty Father, thank You for the Promise of Easter. For Your Resurrection is our guarantee that Truth will triumph over evil, Light will overcome darkness, and Love will conquer death. Shine your light in us, through us, and over us. Amen

The Makeover

 “He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit." ~ Titus 3:5

The little butler table looked forlorn awaiting the trash collector. The legs wobbled, and its warped top was gouged and stained.

For some reason, Allen couldn’t resist it. To him, it was a miniature time machine; a window into eras long passed and the ways they related to God and nature. It’d expected to live in generations of its original family, yet there it was out by the curb, waiting for someone to love it enough to keep it and pass it on.

But Allen kept imagining the words of the lady who’d left it on the curb. “I couldn’t bear to throw it away, but I’m moving into a smaller place. Maybe you could fix it?”

He took it home, wondering how long it took to hone the skills to make such a fine artifact. Each was made by a master of their craft and stood as inspiration to master his own skills.

A few calls to antique dealers confirmed it was just an old table, not a 200-year-old treasure. And yet, there it was, in Allen’s basement workshop awaiting further instructions.

What made him think he could rescue a castoff? He’d been kicked to the curb himself after 28 years of marriage and was still reeling from a messy divorce. The house where they’d raised a family was now quiet as a tomb. 

It still pained him to see couples walking down the street, hand in hand. He didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone. It was easier to hole up in his workshop with the discarded table.

He ran his hand across the uneven top. One of the legs came off in his hand. They were both in rough shape. Time for restoration to commence.

He fixed the top by using clamps, a wet towel, and a very hot iron, repeating the process for several days until the top was flat again. Next, he removed the old finish and sanded it smooth. A friend made a matching piece from maple that he spliced to the leg. Soon that drab, little table came to life in rich tones of golden brown.  It looked great! 

Allen found himself singing a familiar hymn, To God Be the Glory – “Great things He has done!” Allen hadn’t felt much like going to church, sitting in their old pew alone was more than he could bear. But it was as though the church had come to him.

Today the little table sits in Allen’s entryway, its finish as smooth as silk. It has such character. That’s what happens when you weather hard times and come through transformed, renewed, and restored. And a blessing from above!

“Praise the Lord! Let the earth hear His voice! Praise the Lord! Let the people rejoice! Come to the Father, through Jesus the Son: Give Him the glory! Great things He has done! ~ “To God Be the Glory” lyrics by William Howard Doane