by jphilo | Jul 6, 2015 | Church Newsletter Columns
Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
Matthew 11:29–29
Rarely have I felt as weary and heavy-laden as I feel today. So many burdens are bearing down. The Red Card Kids Sunday school class broke the hearts of everyone in attendance as we were brought face-to-face with the conditions children live in around the world. The killing of nine people attending a Bible study in Charleston sent believers in our country reeling. Every week parents of kids with special needs email their stories to me and ask for advice. And right now, this very minute, my husband and I are shouldering burdens concerning people we love very much, and we feel too weak to bear the weight much longer.
I am so weary, so heavy-laden. What I want right now if for the world to leave me alone while I watch one happy-ending movie after another, starting with The Wizard of Oz and ending with Ella Enchanted. Why do I–and maybe you, too–want to escape the woes of this world? Because, deep down, we know we can’t fix what’s wrong.
We can’t ease the daily suffering and oppression of millions of children.
We can’t end the racism that led to the killing of nine Christ followers.
We can’t provide the resources and rest parents of kids with special needs require.
We can’t even make things better for the people we love most in this world.
And yet as believers we are commanded to end oppression, to fight injustice, to heal the broken, and to maintain loving relationships. We are called to bear burdens we can never fix. God’s commandment seems so unfair. Impossible to obey. Unless we remember Jesus’ call to bear our burdens with HIm. To be yoked together In Him. Not alone. Never alone.
Of course, being yoked to Jesus so the burden can be shared requires us to make some adjustments. Being yoked to Jesus means matching our steps to His. Going the direction He says is best. Moving forward in His time, not ours.
Being yoked to Jesus means total dependence on Him. Total release of our will to His. Total relinquishment of our loved ones to His sovereign will. Total trust in His wisdom and power when all appears hopeless, when evil seems to be winning.
Only when we realize that all the impossible things God calls us to do are only accomplished through His divine power are we able to lay find rest for our sore and weary souls. Only then do we discover His yoke truly is easy and the burden is so very, very light.
Only then.
Only then.
by jphilo | Jul 21, 2014 | Walking Down the Gravel Road
Last week, my heart grew heavier and heavier
as the media reported more and more bad news.
Downed airliners.
Fighting in the Middle East.
People in this country shouting at refugee children,
holding ugly signs telling them to to home.
I gave God an earful.
I told him I wasn’t sure about living in a world as cruel as this,
a world stripped of loveliness and compassion,
a world devoid of beauty.
And then, God answered,
as He so often does,
on my morning walk.
I looked up,
and there on the edge of the woods,
stood a doe.
Immobile.
I walked closer and closer
to where she stood sentry.
Closer than I’ve ever been to a deer before.
Close enough to see
her heavy udder,
her swollen teats.
She bravely held her ground,
watching over a hidden fawn,
trembling,
but never flinching
as I passed by.
Then, at the end of my walk
as I ascended our driveway,
God spoke again.
A male indigo bunting,
very small,
very young,
sat on the gravel only a few steps away.
He hopped about,
flew into the bushes unsteadily,
then flew with wobbly precision across the driveway
and perched in one tree,
then on the dead branch of another.
I stood,
transfixed by the courageous bird,
patchy with iridescent blue feathers
and intoxicated
with the freedom of flight,
until he took wing again
and flew away.
“My world is filled
with brave mothers,
with courageous children,”
He said.
“My world is filled with beauty.”
by jphilo | Oct 30, 2007 | Book Updates
I’ve mentioned before that my writer friend, Ginger, and I are collaborating on a novel. It takes place in a remote area on the border where South Dakota and Montana meet. Ginger has written and published several novels, but this is my first stab at fiction. Lately I’ve been thinking I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
Every day I sit in at my keyboard and the self-doubt channel begins broadcasting. Why in the world did you think you could write a novel? You’ve only written short magazine articles and devotionals before? Do you think you have anything to contribute? Ginger could do a better job on her own. That nasty voice drones on and on, day after day. So far, I haven’t located the remote, so I can’t turn the thing off.
Yesterday, I ignored the broadcast long enough to begin the telephone scene I had glibly told Ginger I could handle. Do you know how hard it is to write a good phone scene? Neither did I until I started writing it. Still, the longer I stuck with it, the more I enjoyed it. I hope to finish the scene today. It would be a lot easier if I could turn off that pesky voice.
As I searched for a picture to accompany this post, I knew what was needed – a picture that conveys the vastness of the horizon on the border of South Dakota and Montana. I remember when I stood on that butte and took that picture, conscious of the grass underfoot, on Chimney Rock to the left and the trees nearby. I saw the haze in the distance, but I didn’t focus on it. Too far away.
The picture helped me understand why I feel so inadequate. My focus has been on the horizon of the novel, a the finished product which months away. But the sense of inadequacy fades when I concentrate on what is close at hand – one small scene that needs my attention today – and no more.
Will you look at that? I found the remote.
Ahhh, quiet.
