Category: Devotions

I love the book of James. I am not sure why, but I always have. My life verse is in the book of James which ironically happens to be the same dates for my birthday. 1-27. I am not sure why I have been drawn to the two sections of our humanity that the verse suggests: widows and orphans or my translation, older people and kids. Perhaps because my Grandma was a huge influence in my life. She lived on the farm when we were growing up. I thought everyone had a grandma like mine. Cookies, a listening ear, scones and a typewriter to get me through high school. As she grew older I sensed the need for that connection so that I learned all I could from her heart before she left. Orphans: well kids are just awesome. They see the world through glasses I forget to put on. So the book of James talks about many things I struggle with but I have found some priceless gems, which 1:27 would be one of them.

I almost get through the book before I find a verse I don’t like. Some of the verses I struggle with such as a teacher having more expectations and standards than others. Then some verses I really can put my mind behind cuz they deal with horses and bits! Been there done that. The trials and temptations, and asking because you believe not to mention looking at people’s hearts and not their outer garments: those I can hold onto somewhat without having a panic attack.

But then- James 5:17 comes and I huddle behind the door. Confession! I didn’t grow up understanding what confession is. Somehow, I understood to be wrong was to be weak and to admit you were wrong was an insult on me as a person. Being wrong was not just being wrong, it meant I was a bad person because I wasn’t right.  I’m not sure how I grew up understanding that little twisted thought but it hung with me well into my adult life

So introduce confession. I have been in very few churches who have even talked about the C word: confession. And then, you say that you need to confess to your friend? I have had friends who would have loved me regardless of what I confessed: I do have friends. But there is a switch inside my heart that just is really hard to flip on when it comes to confessing. I am not sure it’s about confessing what we have done as much as it is verbalizing and hearing it come from the heart.

Years ago I sat in an old pick up truck and confessed. It was probably the first time ever and though very hard to do, changed the projection of my life. And interestingly enough, there was a bond that connected me and the one who heard my life flop out on the front seat. Until she died, we held a special connection because she knew me, loved me and helped me walk past the ditch in my life without going back in.

If I am actually to live out the Bible, I need to take verses in my heart that I might hyperventilate on, and step into them rather than avoid them. I have always said we lie best at church. You walk into church, the greeter says hi and then says that statement that no one really wants an answer to. “How are you today?” They don’t want to know, we don’t want to tell them so we answer, “Fine,” or “doing ok”. What if we went to church and church never happened because people were huddled in groups actually being true to what was happening in their life? That was really what the church was about in Acts.  They met together and shared life. Part of sharing life is being real, open and confessing.

And then the end of the verse: pray for each other so that we may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. So prayer always follows confession. And confession is always to someone who is a righteous person. I have my list of who I trust with my heart. I have a few that flop their laundry on my side of the table and I pray for. That’s called doing life together! It’s a beautiful part of the way Jesus told us to live as Christians. It’s just rather, well, humbling! And humbling ourselves in the eyes of the Lord is a character the Holy Spirit is constantly working at in my heart.

It was my intention as it always is. Ash Wednesday Service was yesterday. I had made my plans and going to an Ash Wednesday service was the highlight of the week. Then there was Monday. Somehow Monday, a piece of the wicker laundry basket was on the floor and I stepped right on it. I didn’t just step on it, I launched it into my foot. That didn’t stop me. I hobbled through the day. I spent a large portion of the day in the hospital with friends then of course fulfilled my obligation to my Taekwondo Class. They are used to me modifying my movements so hobbling was not unusual to them. By the end of the night however, it was evident something was wrong. So I came home, sterilized a needle and tweezers and went on the attack. The best part of where the sliver had gone in was it was on the extreme bottom part of my foot. I didn’t do as much damage as I would have liked. It’s a bit hard to see down there!

By yesterday, my Ash wednesday planning day, things were worse. I called the Dr. and then headed into town where they advised me to go.  By the time I hobbled out of the Dr. office with only a sock on because there was no way my painful throbbing foot was going to go into my shoe, I realized there would be no Ash Wednesday Service. I was at the mercy of getting home on my own are allowing the 11 year old to drive us home. I opted for biting the bullet  and going straight home.

Ash Wednesday came and went. I snuggled on the chair under my blanket and tried not to feel my foot throbbing. Ironically, I had no cross of ashes on my forehead however I have a cross on my foot, a lancing of the sliver location.  One would have reminded me of the death of my Lord. The other reminded me of the pain of my Lord.

This morning as I snuggle with three dogs on the couch, I am reading my Lenten study. I never did this as a kid. We ignored it. The older I get the more I find the things that others use to focus their eyes on God can really be effective in my worship.  What I remember from Lent as a child is the kids in school talking about what they gave us and we got Fish Sandwiches in the cafeteria for lunch on Friday.   Lent focuses on fasting, forgiveness, giving up something and  refocusing our hearts from what so easily entangles us to look at what should propel us to be more like Jesus.  I don’t like to give up things, especially food.

I have a fancy, well not really fancy, gauze covering the bottom  of my foot. It’s held on with white tape.  It doesn’t hurt as much as it did last night. My heart changes are the same. The things I feel God drawing out of me to bring me closer to Him may hurt for a while but eventually the scab and the scars are reminders of His healing.

I won’t forget my foot issue for a long time. It will be with me every time I take a step. That should be with my heart also. I should feel the changes, either taking away (giving up for Lent) or adding to my faith walk to draw closer to God. Every step I take should remind me that I desperately need God, I am loved by an incredible creator and my sins are forgiven. That’s better than ashes, gauze and tape!

I love to travel. Give me five minutes and I can have my suitcase packed, be waiting while Jim fills the car with gas and I am on my way. There have been a few times when I actually left and wasn’t sure where I was going. A couple of those times have included farm stuff. Jim will say, “start off and I will let you know which field I’m in.” Those aren’t really journeys of a weary heart although a few times before cell phones when I went to a field and waited two hours, the journey became weary by the end.

No trip stands out in my heart more than Indpls about 10 years ago.  My nephew was in Memphis very ill. They called the rest of the family down. That included my niece’s husband who had stayed behind in Indpls with their four girls. The spouses were needing to get to Memphis. Oh, and there was a baby involved. I had talked to my sister, called a few other people and then called Jim asking him what he thought of my feeling I needed to go care for the girls. I drove in the yard, he took the car to get new tires (it’s a long 9 hour drive) and by the time I threw clothes in a suitcase and gave some instructions to kids, he was back and I was on my way. That nine-ish hour trip was a weary journey. I prayed and talked on the phone to friends while I drove. It seems that prayer and talking to friends belongs in the same sentence. Prayer is so much like talking to friends. James 2:23 reminds us that ‘”Abraham believed God and it was credited to him as righteousness”, and he was called God’s friend.’ A weary heart talks to a friend: I am a friend of God.

How do you talk to a friend? I talked to a friend most of the way home last night from Cowboy Church. I talked to a couple close friends at Cowboy Church. I call friends. I send friends notes: friends and talking go hand in hand. When my heart is weary and I have a long road ahead of me, it’s only natural to do two things. Call a friend and talk to God in prayer.

Many times I let things build up inside. When I finally blurt it out in the safety of a friend often their first words are, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  When I finally confess what I have been struggling with, (it’s no surprise to God) he is true to a friend’s  response. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Yesterday’s sermon was all a bout being weary.  One statement made that resonated well in my heart was how we make the assumption that God is just as tired as we are. I don’t tire much, but when I do, I am exhausted. I put that frame of my expectations of God along with my abilities to deal with the moment.  Isaiah 40 reminds us that when we take off on the journey by ourselves, we get weary we stumble and we fall. When we let God help walk the journey, we walk, run and soar.  Simply allowing God to hear us out and use his vision instead of ours, the weary journey begins a tour de God.

Everyday we begin a journey. Some are fun. Some are anticipated. Some are surprising. Others are to be endured. Everyday we begin a journey. Even the exciting fun ones need to be prefaced in prayer, but especially, the journey of a weary heart. The journey of a weary heart begin in prayer.

I had to make some changes this last winter, and one of them was adding something that challenged me. I had won a gift certificate at a Martial Arts Studio in a fundraiser. No one wanted to go; I tried pawning it off on kids, so I thought I would try it. That definitely  got me OUT of my box. My box is big. I am not afraid of trying anything once. This has been an interesting venture. So interesting that I signed up for more.

I am learning things. I am not too proud is one thing I have learned.  I was thinking I needed a slower processing class. The thought had briefly gone through my mind when  I went to a class and was with the little kids.  Initially I thought it would be awkward but actually it turned out really good. I am even lower than their level. That’s a good way to learn.  Actually, the few classes I have been in with kids, I have learned more than the classes with adults!

The first thing I learned is you line up by rank. I know, since I am a white belt, there can be none lower. Then there were kids with white belts in a different rank line than myself. But on their white belt, there were two black stripes. That meant they were a bit higher. Of course there were kids with green, blue and yellow belts in the class. They were ahead of me.  Later when I was quizzing the teacher about something I didn’t understand he clued me in on the belts. Each color belt and stripes on the belt tells them what to expect from the child. I have nothing on my white belt. They expect nothing from me.  That was a relief! The little girl with the two black stripes on her white belt, she should know a bit more. I felt great. I had NO expectations. I will step to the challenge and get to a bar on my white belt. And to do that, I need to be able to do the  patterns. I can front block, side block, jab, side kick, front kick, high block and  do the horse riding stance. I may look like a 61 year old doing a kids game, but it’s been really good for my mind not to mention my heart!

If only in our lives would we wear belts so that others would know what they can expect from us.  On any given day, my emotions can be swinging faster than a rope bridge over the canyon with a bunch of teenage boys on it.  You walk by and say something,  not seeing the stripe or color of my belt, and I fall apart! I see someone smiling. I think they are happy but if they had a belt on telling me they were hurting inside, I could stop and intentionally spend more time with them rather than hurry on my way.

I probably won’t make it to black belt but I have learned alot and it’s a great physical work out and something that stretches my mind and my old body.  And when I look at another’s heart, I pray that God shows me the color of belt or stripes so I know what to expect and how I can love them the way they need to be loved.

It was almost a year ago I bought him. I am calling him a him because I bought it the day our dear friend went home to be with Jesus. I call it Chuck. It is a cello. It’s a beautiful instrument. I figured since I fiddled, cello wouldn’t be that hard to learn. It doesn’t help either to have a nephew who is majoring in cello. He makes it look so easy. He makes it sound beautiful. He plays in Carnegie Hall. I play in the music room. He plays concertos. I play scales and a few minuets. What is the difference? He is serious. I am interested. He has trained and practiced for years. I am curious and slightly intrigued.

I met someone the other night to buy a 1/2 size violin for my fiddle camps. He told me he is giving me something else that he has had for awhile and he thought I could use better than he. I call it Crash. Crash isn’t as nice looking as Chuck. Crash is called crash because he is in pieces. He is still a cello. He has the potential to look beautiful and play well. Both Chuck and Crash have the same potential. I have potential. But until I fix Crash up and spend lots of time playing, I won’t be nearly as competent as my nephew.

We sat talking the other day about our faith walks. One young man really wants to be a Chuck but he is more like Crash. Believing in God is a step. Buying a cello is a step. Learning to play and making music that is pleasing takes awhile. I tried to remind him that none of us that he looks at and sees the faith walk he wants, got be Chuck the first week. We usually start out like Crash. We are in pieces, we look like we hit a brick wall and we can’t play a song at all because we are not ready: yet. But if we are faithful, if we try, if we work, if we keep practicing, Carnegie hall is possible. Playing a concerto is a real goal. But if we lie on the floor in pieces, we will be useless to God or anyone else.

Proverbs 18:15 “The heart of the prudent acquires knowledge and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.”

An instrument lying on the floor in pieces has no future. An instrument leaning against the piano won’t play either. It takes work, practice, tuning and restoring. Our faith walk is the same. Because it’s not working we don’t pick up Crash. Because we haven’t practiced we don’t sit down with Chuck. Both instruments are capable of Carnegie Hall with the right knowledge and wisdom and lots of practice. So if you know someone who lives like Crash looks, be the one who encourages them to put their life back together with the help and acquiring the wisdom proverbs talks about. In the hands of my nephew, both Chuck and Crash have the same ability to produce beautiful sound. In my hands, well, I will just stick with scales and Minuets for now.