In Jars of Clay

Merging

2011-10-05T23:44:00.001-05:00

I really hate merging into oncoming traffic. Really, really hate it.

Not to say that I don’t do it well, or don’t do it a lot. For heaven’s sake, I’m a Houston driver! We’re CONSTANTLY merging into and onto tangled freeways. It’s just that so many people put up their inconsiderate driving defenses and merging into traffic here often means taking your life into your own hands.

God and I have some of our best conversations while I‘m driving. I’m not kidding, or joking about praying because of Houston traffic, I just mean that my car is our “spot.” That’s why I like to drive by myself a lot; it's peaceful to me, and He and I communicate there. I hear Him just as clearly as if He were physically sitting in the passenger seat.

There is a particular intersection that I merge into nearly every single time I drive, that I really don‘t like at all. If you’re from the area, it’s merging onto Fairmont Parkway eastbound from the northbound Beltway 8 feeder in Pasadena. It’s not particularly crazy or difficult, but I’ve been almost hit there several times and therefore do not like it. It makes me nervous. Years ago I began the habit of asking God to “give me an opening” whenever I came up to that intersection. It became so common that I just asked it, in one form or another, without even thinking every single time I approached it. And I have to tell you, NEVER has He let me down or made it hard for me. As I mentioned, I go that way nearly every single time I drive, and have for years. In all those times, I ask God to give me an opening, and either the light turns green as soon as I get there (which always makes me smile) and I don’t have to merge at all, or there will be a hole in oncoming traffic big enough for me to slide in with no problems whatsoever. Then I thank Him for doing it once more for me. This is our routine.

One day I drove through it and the light immediately turned green when I got there, and I had a perfect, stress-free opening. I realized after this had happened that I hadn’t asked God for it that time. But He had done it anyway, just as He had for years. I laughed, and just said thank you to Him, because I realized right there that we just had an unspoken agreement now. I trust him to take care of me, and He does it. No words needed to be exchanged between us, it’s just a standing agreement that we have now. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

One day not so long ago, I did ask Him to take care of it as I approached this intersection. Usually I just say “God, give me an out,” or “God, take care of me, please;” something along those lines. This time, I was stupid enough to say “God, please take care of it, however You see fit.” He replied to this, asking me, “really? However I see fit?”

Uh oh.

“Um… yeah…” was my uncertain reply, uneasy as to why He was asking me to repeat that.

“Even if the car in front of you stops? Because you really hate that,” God says to me. (You don’t have to completely stop there, even on red, because you have your own turn lane for a short time until needing to merge over. I hate when people stop and back up traffic instead of keeping on ahead and then merging.)

Me: “Yeah… whatever.”
God: “It makes you mad."
Me: “So? Come on, I know You’ll take care of it like You always do.”

I got up to the intersection with four cars in front of me. The first three went straight on through and merged nicely like good little drivers, and then the one in front of me abruptly stopped.

Silence.

More silence.

Still sitting there, staring at the car in front of me, going nowhere.

Me: “Very funny. Now come on.”

The car in front of me moved about an inch… and stopped. And then another inch... stop.

Me: “Seriously?!”

I promise you, I heard God laugh.

And again… stop. Just teasing me, I’m telling you.

Me: “Okay, I get it! You‘re hilarious!”

The car did that a couple of more times before the light turned green and it took off, finally freeing me to drive off as well. I just sat there in silence, and I swear, God was just laughing His head off. I finally cracked up laughing too and admitted to Him that it WAS pretty funny. He did take care of me, just like He always does. Just not in the way I expected. I did give Him permission to do it however He wanted, after all (as if He needs my permission).

Me: “You infuriate me sometimes.”
God: “Likewise.”

God doesn’t always answer your prayers in the way YOU see fit. In fact, rarely does that ever happen. More often than not, He’ll test your patience with His answer. But that doesn’t mean He’s not always sovereign, with your best interest at heart. So just trust Him anyway. Even when you feel stuck.

And lighten up! God is pretty funny once you get to know Him.

How are your fruits?

2011-09-30T21:29:00.000-05:00

Once, teaching Children's Church, I started a series on the fruits of the spirit. We studied love. When we started, I asked if anyone knew what the "fruit of the spirit" was. Some of them had heard the term but didn't understand it. So I explained each "fruit," and then showed them a little illustration.

I put some potting soil in a small little pot, and had one of the kids sprinkle the seeds on it and put some more soil over them, to bury them. I said, "now, if I just set this aside and forget about it, they'll grow, right?" They all yelled "no!!" So, "what do I have to do to make them grow?" I asked. "Water it!" "Give it food!" "Put it in the sun!" Are all answers that I got. All correct. They agreed with me that you have to tend to the seeds after they're planted, otherwise they won't grow, and the dirt will dry up, and it will be useless.

I told them that when we accept Jesus, He plants little seeds in our hearts. We can ignore them and let them dry up, and they'll never grow. But if we nurture them, and take care of them, and feed them, they will grow into something beautiful that everyone can see, I said as I pulled out a pretty purple Petunia I had potted already. It received many "ooos" and "aaahs". I said, like when we see this flower and we know that it grew from a seed, that when people see the "fruits of the spirit" in us, it's like seeing Jesus in us. They know that our fruits grew from Him.

Suddenly they understood the concept. But I liked the answers that I got from my question on how to take care of the seeds:

"Water it!" - Pray.
"Feed it!" - Read the Word.
"Put it in the sun!" - Let the Son shine on you.

So, my question to you (and to myself) is: how often do your actions glorify the Lord, as compared to when they don't? Do people get a good picture of God when they see you?

Tend your garden, and your fruit will grow.

Teaching Eric

2011-09-28T11:37:00.001-05:00

As a teacher, you remember a lot of the children who have come and gone, but there are always those few special kids who remind you exactly why you entered the profession in the first place. One of those special kids is named Eric, and it was the moment I looked into his grateful eyes that I knew I wanted to be a teacher.

When I was a teenager I volunteered at a local elementary school; I did a little bit of everything, but I was primarily a Computer Lab aide, assisting and facilitating the learning and development of well over 100 students in every grade level. While learning reading comprehension, I noticed that one of the boys, Eric, was losing interest and getting frustrated. I walked over to him to ask him if he needed any assistance, and he said “I just don’t get it.” He explained to me that none of the words or sentences on the screen made sense to him and that he didn’t know how to answer the questions on the practice test.

When I looked at him, it was like looking in a mirror. I saw myself. I was always a voracious reader and writer as a child, but it was mathematics that I struggled with, and learned to hate because of that struggle; numbers on a page made (and often still make) me feel stupid. All I could think of when I was listening to Eric explain his frustration to me was how I didn’t want him to end up like me. The thought of him growing up to hate reading simply because it was difficult broke my heart, because not only is reading essential to a successful life, but I believe reading to be essential to every child who ever wants to escape their reality for even a minute as they pick up a book and explore a new literary world where anything is possible. So I knelt down next to him and his computer, and helped him sound out words and talked him through sentences until they made sense to him; until I saw the hypothetical light bulb flicker on over his head and he finally grasped the concepts he had been staring at for hours.

As I was sitting back at my desk, I heard students talking so I looked up only to see that Eric was teaching the child next to him the things I had just taught him, and he smiled to me with a confidence that I am certain left that classroom with him. I don’t know if Eric remembers me, or that day, but I certainly will never forget him. Because that was the moment I fell in love with education.

“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” –Proverbs 22:6

Compassion Sunday, 2011

2011-09-27T23:16:00.004-05:00

I had been in the car for just a couple of minutes, on my way to church Sunday morning. I stopped at a busy intersection that I drive through nearly every single time I go anywhere at all, and I saw a man on the corner. It’s not odd in the Houston area to see people standing on the street corners, holding signs saying they need money for food, or whatever reason. That’s pretty common in big cities. I never just hand out money, but I’m certainly not opposed to buying someone what they need. But it was odd to see on this corner. And he wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t even standing. He was just sitting there, with a small mound of belongings next to him in plastic shopping bags.

He was just sitting there.

“He needs some water.”

I didn’t exactly know where that pesky thought came from, but I dismissed it and drove right on by him, promptly forgetting it. I needed to get to church; it was Compassion Sunday!

I wasn’t giving a formal presentation this year, just sharing the Spring promotional video that I am in (www.compassionsunday.com), and giving everyone a reminder about Compassion. I set up a sponsorship table with some child packets in case anyone felt moved to sponsor, and next to that I set up a small table with photos, info, and letters from the two children whom we sponsor as a church. I encouraged people to check out that table and learn a little about the children they sponsor through their church.

As the service went on, it amazed me how it turned itself into an official Compassion Sunday. I coordinated nothing at all with my pastor, yet his message fit in perfectly with Compassion’s mission, and he referenced Compassion and the sponsorship table many times. I kind of sat there in awe of how my small presentation turned into a much bigger one without any help from little old me. We had a very small crowd, and in the end there were no official sponsorships, but there was interest-- questions asked and information taken-- so I still counted it as a successful Compassion Sunday!

In his message, which was all about caring for people and doing good in Christ‘s name, my pastor mentioned the passage in Matthew 10 where Jesus says that giving even a cup of cold water in His name will not go unnoticed, or unrewarded. I was reminded of the man I saw that morning.

“He needed some water.”

There’s that thought again. How should I know what he needs? But like the first time, I quickly forgot about it until I drove home and saw him still sitting there in the same position, on the same corner.

I left later that afternoon to go to Walgreens to get a couple of immunizations for my trip to Indonesia this Summer with Compassion. Again, there he was.

“Give him some water.”

Again, I drove on by. Twice.

An hour or so later I headed back to church. When I passed the intersection and saw him again, for the fifth time that day in the same spot, my heart was very burdened. He had been there for hours and hours. Like I said, I see people like this frequently in Houston, so why is this one man on my heart so much? Maybe it struck me as so out of the ordinary because I’ve never seen anyone on that particular corner, and he was quietly minding his own business, not asking for anything.

I drove by again. I had such a strong urge to turn around and go back to him that I actually fought it all the way to church. I sat there through the whole service thinking about it.

“Are you going to do it or not?”

God’s voice can really get annoying when you’re trying to ignore it, you know? Finally I told Him, “if he’s still there when I go back, I’ll give him some water.”

I think I heard God laugh. I’m pretty sure He asked if I had ever met Him before. Of course he’ll still be there… I haven’t done my job yet.

I really didn’t want to stop. I don’t like people looking at me. It’s a lame excuse, I know. But seriously… I even hate walking into a waiting room at the doctor’s office, because all heads turn when someone walks in. I love to people watch, but I hate being the one watched. I really wasn’t comfortable crossing this busy street to give a homeless man some water. But I’m pretty sure that was the point.

I was nervous the whole length of the street, anxious to see if he was still there. And you’ll never guess… he was. (You’re shocked, I know.) So I pulled into the gas station across the street, bought the biggest bottle of Ozarka that they had in the cooler, and then… went and sat in my car for a couple of minutes being a chicken.

“You’re really going to go to Indonesia when you can’t even go across the street? Go.”

Once I stepped out of the car, all that fear of being uncomfortable left. I marched across the street, walked down the sidewalk, held out the bottle and said, “sir? I’ve seen you sitting out here all day, and I thought you might want some water.” He turned to me and I saw him more closely. An older, Asian man, with a long beard and even longer yellow fingernails. He had such kind and gentle eyes when he looked at me. He didn’t hesitate to take the water. I asked if he needed anything else, and he just politely nodded and waved to the water like that was enough. I really don’t know if he spoke any English. So I went back to my car and drove home.

The burden was gone after that. I’ve driven by a few times since then, and he’s not there anymore. His things are, but he’s gone. I’ve looked for him. How odd that he was there burdening my heart all day long, and after I finally gave in and did what God was asking me to do, the man is nowhere to be found. For all I know, it was a Hebrews 13:2 moment.

And how odd that it was on Compassion Sunday, of all days! The day that I stand up and advocate mercy and compassion for “the least of these.” And I drove blindly by my uncomfortable opportunity to show that compassion five times before recognizing it. That’s when I realized that even in my advocacy for Compassion, I’m too comfortable now. That needs to change.

There were no children sponsored at my church this year for Compassion Sunday. But that’s okay. Because I think the lesson of this Compassion Sunday was for me.

Driving Lessons

2011-09-27T20:53:00.000-05:00

“What are you looking at?”

I was 17-years-old, behind the wheel of a Cadillac with a very sensitive accelerator and turned like a boat. I was learning to drive and my Dad (AKA: driving coach) was in the co-pilot’s seat to my right. He’s the one who just asked me that question.

“The traffic light up there,” was my response. “Good,” he said, “If you focus further out, it’s easier to stay straight. If you use the curb as a guide, you’ll start to swerve into it.” I remember this conversation like it was yesterday. I even remember exactly where I was on Spencer Highway, and which traffic light I was referring to. That was when it clicked.

See, my biggest problem learning to drive up until that point was the fact that I couldn’t seem to master the straight line. I stayed in my own lane, but I swerved within it. I tried to use the curb, or the lane markings, as a guide to try to stay straight but it never worked. I just learned right there on Spencer Highway, right in front of San Jacinto College, to lift my eyes up. Look up, look straight, look ahead. That’s where you need to focus. So I did. And that’s when I began to master that straight line.

The same applies to life: you will drive yourself toward whatever you are focusing on. There is no doubt about it; you will. The only way to achieve something is to look ahead and strive toward it, ignoring the distractions around you and the tendency to follow them instead. When you shift your eyes down and focus on your immediate surroundings, you will drive yourself right into it instead of the goal. They will always lead you astray. Then you have to deal with the wreckage.

Look up today. Focus on Christ, and your path will become straight.

“I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” ~Psalm 121:1-2