Tag: Trust God

When Things Get Smokey

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

My phone beeps. There is a poor air quality alert for my area.

As I sit at my desk while my baby naps, I glance outside. I cannot see the blue sky. The sun is a weird shade of yellow casting a red glow on the floor.

My eyes wander to the other side of the valley where normally I would see green trees and a myriad of colours from the buildings. Everything is grey and faded.

I turn back to my computer. I only have so much time before my baby wakes up. I’ve got to make use of the time.

I pull up the email I’m working on.

A few minutes later, I glance up. The whole sky has dimmed to an orange fog. The speck of bright light which must be the sun is pumpkin orange. I cannot see the other side of the valley. I feel heavy inside and my fight-or-flight system considers kicking in.

I catch a whiff of smoke. I typically don’t mind the smell as it reminds me of many happy times around a campfire, but when the smoke is everywhere… I frown, hoping the windows will keep most of it out.

Trying to focus, I drag my gaze back to my computer screen, but that unsettling orange glow keeps drawing my attention back to the window.

I pray for the firefighters who are working to contain the fire, then remind myself that there is nothing more I can do right now. The forest fire is miles away. I would have to drive more than 500 km (~300 miles) to get there.

Right now, I need to focus on my task.

I turn to my computer. “Okay, I’ve just got to do the next thing. What is the one thing I need to do next?”

I need to look up some numbers to include in my email.

Okay, I can do that.

Done.

My eyes wander to the window. I may as well be living on Mars. That’s how orange it looks just now.

I glance at the baby monitor on my desk. She’s still asleep. I’ve got to keep working.

“Do the next thing.”

What’s the next thing?

Find the email addresses I’m sending this email to.

Okay, I can do that.

It takes me a few moments to locate the list. I notice I need to add a few more addresses. I do that.

I glance out the window. Still orange. So weird. Nearly spooky. It makes me feel anxious.

But I’ve got to do the next thing.

What’s the next thing?

Write a subject for the email.

Okay, I can do that.

After a few attempts, I am happy with the subject line.

I reach for my phone and move to the window. I switch to my camera and take several pictures. I want to capture the feel of it, but the camera simply won’t do justice to the strength of the orange outside.

I give up. Back at my desk, I remind myself, my baby could wake up any time now. I’ve got to do the next thing.

Proofread my email.

Okay, I can do that.

I read it aloud, tweaking some words as I go. At last, I am satisfied and hit send.

Leaning back in my chair, I peer out the window. Is it just me, or is the orange beginning to fade?

Oh, look! I can see some of the buildings across the valley. Certainly not in full colour, but the dim outlines are back.

I crane my neck to locate the sun. It appears somewhat, almost, yellow-ish again.

A hint of the weight inside me lightens. Perhaps, just maybe, the blue sky will be visible again and the sun will shine its happy yellow.

It might take a few days, but I know the sky is blue and I will not give up hope that I will see that blue again.

Why share this story? Because it holds a valuable reminder for me.

Sometimes life gets smokey when something creates smoke which comes in and blocks our vision. That something may be close to home and personal, or perhaps far bigger but further away.

Much of the time, there is nothing we can do to stop that smoke until the source fire is dealt with.

At this moment, I can pray, but beyond that there is nothing I can do to stop those forest fires. I am helpless to stop the smoke from crowding into my life.

The smoke makes it hard to see and hard to breathe. I cannot see the happy blue sky and yellow sun. Everything looks grey and stinks.

Sometimes life feels like that.

What should I do then?

Pray.

Trust that God is still God.

And do the next thing.

Perhaps you have heard of Elisabeth Elliot? I learned the concept of “do the next thing” from listening to her teaching. (Here is a link to her teaching)

Elisabeth Elliot was a missionary. Not long into her time of ministry, her husband, Jim Elliot, was murdered by the very people they had been trying to reach in love.

Elisabeth was left in a foreign country with a young baby. Later she was able to befriend and minister to the very people who killed her husband.

Many years later, Elisabeth remarried only to watch her new husband get sick and die.

Elizabeth has written many books, my favourite being “Through Gates of Splendor”.

Elisabeth Elliot once wrote:

“‘Do the next thing.’ I don’t know any simpler formula for peace, for relief from stress and anxiety than that very practical, very down-to-earth word of wisdom. Do the next thing. That has gotten me through more agonies than anything else I could recommend.” ― Elisabeth Elliot, Suffering Is Never for Nothing

This sounds like a wise principle, but where do we see it in the Bible?

I’m glad you asked.

Joseph is one example of this mindset being lived out.

What did he do when his brothers sold him into slavery? Did he protest and fight against those around him? No. He did the next thing.

When he was thrown into prison unjustly, did he sit in the corner pouting? No. He did the next thing.

As a foreign slave turned prisoner turned second-in-command over the entire country, did Joseph become paralyzed by the grandness of it all? No. He did the next thing.

I like Psalm 37:34a: “Wait for the Lord and keep His way…” (NASB)

Joseph was waiting for God’s deliverance, but in the meantime, he lived according to God’s ways while he did one next thing after another.

The next time I find my life smothered in smoke, may I remain diligent to do the next thing while I wait for the smoke to clear.

Tapestry

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

This week I’m taking a break from sharing allegories from my own life. Instead, I’m sharing an allegory Corrie ten Boom often spoke of.

(Note that while tapestries and embroideries are different based on the methods used, I use both terms interchangeably in this post.)

Have you heard of Corrie ten Boom? If not, let me fill you in.

Corrie ten Boom was a Christian and a Dutch watchmaker. When the Nazis invaded the Netherlands, Corrie and her family became involved in helping hide the Jews.

Eventually, the Nazis caught on and arrested Corrie, her sister, Betsie, and their elderly father. Her father died 10 days later.

Corrie and Betsie were sent to Ravensbruck – a brutal concentration camp. They were forced to work hard, given little to eat, and abused. Betsie died there, but Corrie miraculously was released.

After the war, Corrie travelled the world sharing her story and her faith in God.

If you want to learn more, I highly recommend reading her biography: The Hiding Place.

Okay. Now that you know who Corrie ten Boom was and understand that she endured greater hardship than many of us can imagine, let me share an allegory she often told.

When speaking, Corrie would hold up a cloth with a jumble of dark and light threads that were all haphazard and unruly.

Holding the cloth for all to see, Corrie would explain how that cloth represented what we can see of our life. Our lives look jumbled and often the dark seasons we endure (like the dark threads) make no sense.

Then she would turn the cloth around revealing an intricately embroidered crown. She would explain that God sees this side of the cloth and one day will reveal it to us. 

Those dark threads, or dark seasons of our lives, make no sense right now but one day we’ll see what God was up to. The dark threads are necessary to make the whole embroidery stunningly beautiful.

The night before His crucifixion, Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NIV

In closing, let me leave you with a poem Corrie ten Boom often quoted to capture this allegory.

Life is But a Weaving (The Tapestry Poem)

By Grant Tullar

 

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

 

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

 

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

 

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned.

 

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.

Throw Out the Box

Posted on by S. J. Little

 

There they are, sitting in the corner of the room. Yes, they are tucked away, but still I see them. The boxes from two gifts I received recently.

Entering the living room, I settle on the couch and my eyes wander back to where they sit.

“Is it time to throw them out?” I wonder.

Both the mixer and the humidifier that came in the boxes have been opened and used. They appear to work well.

They have found homes elsewhere in my house, yet still the boxes sit there. Should I throw them out?

From the couch I convince myself that, yes, it is time to throw them out. Next time I’m standing, I will throw them out.

Still, doubt rises. I have not yet had them for 30 days. What if they malfunction and stop working? I could take them back, but I would need the box and all the packaging.

I shake my head. The boxes are cluttering up the space. The items have worked just fine. Besides, the store may not be willing to receive them back now that I’ve used them.

But, what if…

I’ll ask my husband what he thinks when he gets off work. That will settle things.

With that I push the thoughts away and turn to the task I am supposed to be working on.

— — —

That evening, I forgot to ask my husband his opinion, so the boxes stayed put.

Several times this debate took place in my head as I eyed the boxes. I didn’t like the space they were consuming, but what if…?

With the empty boxes still sitting nearby as I type, I ask the question, are there any boxes I need to throw out in my life?

For me, some of those boxes still kicking around in my head and heart might be the “that’s not how it used to be” comments.

True, there may have been good in how things used to be done. Still, holding onto those thoughts creates clutter that steals from my ability to enjoy the new ways of doing things.

An example cropped up in my life recently related to my pregnancy.

I used to be a morning person. Before 9am used to be my best time for writing. During pregnancy, however, my mind was sluggish most mornings. That’s not how it used to be, yet if I hang onto that thought too tightly, I may slip into grumbling and bitterness.

Indeed, with a new baby around, there are many changes I must embrace, and I can do it much better if I throw out the boxes.

Now, that might be a useful life principle, but I believe there is a more important box to throw out when it comes to following Jesus.

Throwing away those boxes that are sitting in my living room feels a bit risky because it is a commitment – a commitment that I will not be taking those items back for a refund. Once the boxes are gone, if one of the items breaks, it’s on me to buy a replacement.

Similarly, choosing to give my life 100% to Jesus can feel risky. What if I don’t like what He asks me to do? What if I want my old life back?

In Matthew 8:19-22 ESV, we see that Jesus wants us to be all in – no holding onto boxes.

“A scribe came up and said to Him, ‘Teacher, I will follow You wherever You go.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.’ Another of the disciples said to Him, ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘Follow Me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead.'” 

Elsewhere Jesus said, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”  (Matthew 16:25 ESV)

So what about me? Am I following Jesus with my entire life, or do I cling to some boxes that are keeping me back?

Just like the boxes still cluttering my living room, it is time for me to get rid of those boxes that are hindering me in my walk with Jesus.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-2 ESV)

P.S. I have since recycled those boxes. My living room looks much better without them!

The Sun’s Consistency

Posted on by S. J. Little
Brilliant sunshine behind title: The Sun's Consistency

 

This morning, as I watched the sun rise, I marvelled at the consistency of it. The sun rises every single morning at the exact right time and the exact right place. I am never filled with anxiety that today it might not rise.  It consistently rises every single morning.

Of course, there are days when we cannot see it rise. Perhaps thick clouds or fog hide it, but I don’t become worried. I know it is still there. I will see it once the air clears.

At other times, while the sun is visible, it looks different. Smoke causes it to appear red, or smog in a big city dulls its gleam. Alternatively, a thin cloud may block half its light. Even then I know the sun itself has not changed, rather something has gotten between myself and the sun causing the difference in appearance.

Some might argue against the sun’s consistency by noting how it changes through the seasons each year. Indeed, living in Canada, I feel these changes keenly. In June the sun is up from roughly 5:30am-10:00pm, while in December I only see the sun from about 8:30am-4:30pm. That’s a difference of more than 8 hours of sunlight per day!

Added to that, the angle of the sun changes throughout the year. In the summer, the sun barely shines inside our window during the afternoon, but in the winter the sunlight reaches more than 12 feet through that very same window. Also, the spot on the horizon where the sun rises and then where it sets, shifts dramatically through the seasons.

Still, I call the sun consistent. Why? Because it is predictable. A quick Google search can reveal the exact time the sun will rise and set on Aug. 8, 2043. That’s how predictable the sun is. Scientists can predict its timing years in advance.

Thinking about the sun, got me thinking about God. God is consistent in that He is always with me and He always keeps His promises.

As Hosea 6:3 tells us, “[God’s] appearance is as sure as the dawn.” (CSB)

I may not know His timing or what He is doing, but He is always with His people. As Scripture says: “He Himself has said, I will never leave you or abandon you.” (Hebrews 13:5b CSB)

Sometimes my view of God is hindered, whether by storm clouds, or the hustle and bustle of life, or by my desire for other things. Yet even in those times I know, and must trust that God is still there, just as He has promised. He will never leave me.

Sometimes the sun is too bright. It makes it hard to see my computer screen, or I may want to rest in the dark. I can go inside where the windows only let in a limited amount of sunlight. Or I can go into my basement, in a room without windows, and hide from the light.

It’s different with God. I can try to hide, thus cutting off many of the blessings that come from walking closely with Him. However, I can never vanish from His sight. He sees everything I do. I can hide nothing from Him. (Psalm 139)

One final thought came to me as I watched the sun rise. I recalled the story, in 2 Kings 20:8-11, when God caused the shadow of the sun to go backwards rather than forwards. What a wonderful reminder to me that God has power even over the consistency of the sun.

I am incredibly grateful to serve a God whom I can depend on. He is faithful. I can trust Him.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.”  (Heb. 10:23 NKJV)

The Empty Pond – Increasing Capacity for God

Posted on by S. J. Little
Brown grass and an empty pond

 

I followed the familiar path, thankful for a chance to get outside. The air had a chill, but only the smallest patches of snow lay where the sun could not find them hidden beneath the shadows. Otherwise, the ground was dry.

In fact, everything was dry. The grass was brown and the trees stood bare. The leaves, the trees had dropped, crunched under my feet. There was little colour anywhere beyond brown, brown, and more brown.

I stepped through the fence and swept fallen leaves off the bench before sitting on it. I stared at the pond in front of me. It was empty. There was no water.

Our summer had been longer and more dry than most years. The pond that typically had at least a little water all year round – indeed, sometimes enough to skate on in the winter – now lay empty.

It was more than that, though. This fall, not only had the pond become empty, but the typically impassable gooey mud of the pond bed had dried out to the extent that the property owner was able to drive heavy machinery through the pond. I could still see the thick tread marks.

The heavy machinery had been used to push dirt around. A large mound lay to the side. Much of the pond bed was now raw exposed dirt.

Yet, as I sat there, I was not displeased at the sight of thick tread marks and mounds of dirt because I knew the purpose.

The property owner had dug the pond deeper. Why? To increase its capacity. When the winter snow melts and spring rains come, the pond will be able to hold even more water than before. This will make it less likely to dry out when the following summer turns to autumn.

This deepening of the pond bed was something the property owner could only do during the rare times when the pond dried up. Not only did the pond need to be empty for such work to be done, but the mud at the bottom of it needed to dry for long enough to support the weight of the heavy machinery without causing it to sink and get stuck.

I leaned back on the bench listening to the occasional bird call in the otherwise silent afternoon.

Surely there was something to be learned from this pond, a lesson I could learn.

A sober thought came to me.

It is only when I am empty that God can do the work of increasing capacity in me.

True, there are many ways God works in my life.

While the property owner could trim the bushes around the edge of the pond, or add stones to the path leading to it while it was full, there are some kinds of work he could not do until the pond was beyond empty.

Likewise, God can work in my life in many ways, but some kinds of deepening can only be done when I am empty – empty of myself.

So what is it that the Lord wants to increase my capacity for? Some things, such as His love, His joy, and abundant life, He wants to give everyone who believes. Not a problem-free life, but a life marked with the inexpressible joy and peace that only comes from Him.

In John 10:10b, Jesus said, “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.” (CSB)

Other translations say, “have it to the full.” (NIV2011)

Paul prayed that God would enable the Ephesians to “know Christ’s love that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” (Ephesians 3:19 CSB)

Next time I am feeling empty and surrounded by the browns of a winter not even brightened with snow, I hope I will remember not to panic. Instead, I ought to seek God and trust that this is the time when He can do His work of increasing capacity in me for more of Him.

“Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13 CSB)