The clouds loomed dark upon the horizon as we arrived at the pier on the day of the Sand Castle competition. “A quick look,” we thought. “We’ll hurry.”
There is something about a sand beach and turbulent waves, sailboats reaching out to touch a threatening sky, and ever changing light and haze, with flashes of dry lightning for effect. What fodder for the amateur photographer. We paused, caught the waning light, focusing the lens again and again.
“OK, let’s go and see the sculptures. We should have time. And we do have our umbrellas.”
Pitiful excuse for protection they proved to be against the Great Lakes storm. I’d heard of a blinding rainstorm; now I’ve lived and breathed it. The flash and crash of bellowing skies, the unexpected muscle of the wind, and the mountain of rain that assailed us, drove us along the beach, scrambling for safety. Umbrellas turned back to front whirled us around, like a dancing dervish. Dinosaurs and mighty beasts, walled fortresses and the rising dead vanished beneath the onslaught, mere blobs upon the beach. Not that we cared. “Just get us to the safety of the car! Hold on! Don’t get blown off the pier!” Pelted by drops of rain as large as the pebbles on the shore, we zigzagged through the ambush and collapsed in laughter in the car.
“Can you believe it?”
“I thought I was going off the edge!”
“Useless umbrellas!”
“I’m soaked to the skin!”
Our friend who’d stayed behind smirked smugly as we extolled the uproarious event and lamented the demise of our infamous umbrellas. A shake of our hair was enough to invite him into the experience!
There are choices to be made at times and this was a worthy one… one for the memories!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
God's Child
‘I’ll drive you away,’ the little one said
As he tightened his fist and tossed his small head.
‘I’ll crawl and make noise so I can’t feel your love.
I don’t want to hear of this God up above!
Well, sometimes I do. I’m almost drawn in
To your talk about Jesus and freedom from sin;
But I have to resist. I don’t want to care,
So I yell, “Blah! Blah! Blah!” when you bow in prayer.
He loves me. He’s calling. I feel so afraid
Of the change it would cause in this life that I’ve made.
It may not be great, but it’s all that I know.
This God that you talk of…don’t tell me, just show.
I sense you might love me. I know that you care.
As he tightened his fist and tossed his small head.
‘I’ll crawl and make noise so I can’t feel your love.
I don’t want to hear of this God up above!
Well, sometimes I do. I’m almost drawn in
To your talk about Jesus and freedom from sin;
But I have to resist. I don’t want to care,
So I yell, “Blah! Blah! Blah!” when you bow in prayer.
He loves me. He’s calling. I feel so afraid
Of the change it would cause in this life that I’ve made.
It may not be great, but it’s all that I know.
This God that you talk of…don’t tell me, just show.
I sense you might love me. I know that you care.
You catch my wrongdoing; insist I play fair.
I just might come back here to cause you more pain
‘cause maybe you’ll show me your Jesus again!’
Gal 6:9 reminds us:
Let us not become weary in doing good,
for at the proper time we will reap a harvest
if we do not give up.
We need to keep on working with children like this, trusting that God’s spirit will overcome the Evil One in the battle for their souls. Our task is to keep tilling the soil, planting the seed, and loving these little ones into Jesus’ waiting arms.
Aug 23, 2008
After my week at VBS
I just might come back here to cause you more pain
‘cause maybe you’ll show me your Jesus again!’
Gal 6:9 reminds us:
Let us not become weary in doing good,
for at the proper time we will reap a harvest
if we do not give up.
We need to keep on working with children like this, trusting that God’s spirit will overcome the Evil One in the battle for their souls. Our task is to keep tilling the soil, planting the seed, and loving these little ones into Jesus’ waiting arms.
Aug 23, 2008
After my week at VBS
Friday, August 15, 2008
Negotiating the Dark Path
Sometimes into the darkest hour there comes a beam of light.
Right now our church is reeling from the news that our pastor’s son, just graduated from high school, an athlete and all round great kid, has been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. (A.L.L.) It is a time when one realizes how much the church is a family. When one member is struggling, we all hurt.
Lately some friends and I have been studying God’s promises, focusing on guidance. Today’s verse was Isaiah 42:16.
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will lead them.”
Well, Lord, we sure are in unfamiliar territory here…territory we do not like, with a lot of dark and potentially nasty corners.
The verse goes on:
“I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do. I will not forsake them.”
I think of Gwen at our church whose husband Gerry is blind. Week after week you see her gently leading him, clearing obstacles, guiding him around things that could cause him to stumble. And if she is not right there, Gerry waits. He doesn’t move through the crowd on his own. He recognizes the situations where he needs more loving guidance than his cane affords.
We too can move through life on our own for much of the time, with our knowledge of God’s love and provision. But there are times, like now, when we have to wait, wait for God’s loving arm to guide us, totally trusting in His wisdom and divine plan. We are blind and must learn to realize how much we need to lean on Him as we negotiate this unknown terrain.
God, I pray that you will be with Ben and bring restoration to his body and peace to his soul. Be with his parents and brother and sisters. Help them to be able to place their hands in yours and to let you guide them through this dark path of cancer.
Right now our church is reeling from the news that our pastor’s son, just graduated from high school, an athlete and all round great kid, has been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. (A.L.L.) It is a time when one realizes how much the church is a family. When one member is struggling, we all hurt.
Lately some friends and I have been studying God’s promises, focusing on guidance. Today’s verse was Isaiah 42:16.
“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will lead them.”
Well, Lord, we sure are in unfamiliar territory here…territory we do not like, with a lot of dark and potentially nasty corners.
The verse goes on:
“I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do. I will not forsake them.”
I think of Gwen at our church whose husband Gerry is blind. Week after week you see her gently leading him, clearing obstacles, guiding him around things that could cause him to stumble. And if she is not right there, Gerry waits. He doesn’t move through the crowd on his own. He recognizes the situations where he needs more loving guidance than his cane affords.
We too can move through life on our own for much of the time, with our knowledge of God’s love and provision. But there are times, like now, when we have to wait, wait for God’s loving arm to guide us, totally trusting in His wisdom and divine plan. We are blind and must learn to realize how much we need to lean on Him as we negotiate this unknown terrain.
God, I pray that you will be with Ben and bring restoration to his body and peace to his soul. Be with his parents and brother and sisters. Help them to be able to place their hands in yours and to let you guide them through this dark path of cancer.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
A Challenge from Quebec
After being in Quebec for the past week, I am still trying to put my finger on how this trip has affected me. Although I may not yet be able to express it, there definitely has been an impact.
I was truly challenged by the passion and zeal, which the French Canadian Christians exude concerning their faith. They seem to recognize and cherish the magnitude and wonder of the gift of salvation. As a second, third, fourth, or whatever, generation Christian, I feel I have become rather blasé about the whole thing. I don’t have that sense of excitement nor an urgency to share my faith with others like I did when it was new and fresh to me.
Let me draw a parallel to a familiar summer scene. When my friends come to enjoy a fire in my back yard, we are content to gather around, chatting amongst ourselves, taking pleasure in the ever-changing flicker of the flames. As the blaze dies down, rather than searching out new firewood, we delight in the glowing embers, and draw in closer, roasting marshmallows, drinking in the moment of peace. We enjoy it immensely, in our cozy little group.
As a Christian, I have the light of Jesus; the warmth of knowing God loves me. Do I want to share this with others? I say I do. I think I do. But all too often I am content to pull up close, enjoying the fire with my few friends and not even thinking of those who are beyond the circle of light.
By journeying to a different culture, Jesus has offered me a challenge. How will I live out my faith? Will I be content to continue on my selfish path of enjoying the benefits of being a Christian with those of like mind? Or will I make an effort to figure out how to share the benefits of life with Christ with those outside the inner circle of my comfort zone?
I was truly challenged by the passion and zeal, which the French Canadian Christians exude concerning their faith. They seem to recognize and cherish the magnitude and wonder of the gift of salvation. As a second, third, fourth, or whatever, generation Christian, I feel I have become rather blasé about the whole thing. I don’t have that sense of excitement nor an urgency to share my faith with others like I did when it was new and fresh to me.
Let me draw a parallel to a familiar summer scene. When my friends come to enjoy a fire in my back yard, we are content to gather around, chatting amongst ourselves, taking pleasure in the ever-changing flicker of the flames. As the blaze dies down, rather than searching out new firewood, we delight in the glowing embers, and draw in closer, roasting marshmallows, drinking in the moment of peace. We enjoy it immensely, in our cozy little group.
As a Christian, I have the light of Jesus; the warmth of knowing God loves me. Do I want to share this with others? I say I do. I think I do. But all too often I am content to pull up close, enjoying the fire with my few friends and not even thinking of those who are beyond the circle of light.
By journeying to a different culture, Jesus has offered me a challenge. How will I live out my faith? Will I be content to continue on my selfish path of enjoying the benefits of being a Christian with those of like mind? Or will I make an effort to figure out how to share the benefits of life with Christ with those outside the inner circle of my comfort zone?
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