The Shadow of Your Wings

When an unclean spirit goes out of a man, he goes through dry places, seeking rest, and finds none.  Then he says, 'I will return to my house from which I came.' And when he comes he finds it empty, swept, and put in order.  Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse that the first.  Matt 12:43-45

I have seen the truth of this warning in an everyday setting - a friend who gave her life and her home over to a beloved child.  As the girl neared her teen years she became rebellious, by her early teens she began to exhibit wanton disregard for those who cared for her.  During her high school years she ripped through every boundary of discipline the family had established for her well-being.  Finally she married, against her family's wishes, and moved away.  For several years my friend kept the child's room open, hoping she would come to her senses, hoping she would return - to her home and her heart.

I could only watch, offer "Well, if I were you I would ..." advice, and pray.  From my perspective it was easy enough to say "Let her go," or "Reclaim your life."  But I knew from my own experiences that reclaiming one's heart, no matter how battered and abused, is virtually impossible.  We love our children - for better or worse - and (maternal) love most truly hopes and believes the best for (if not of) its offspring.

A few months ago my friend finally came to the realization that her child had chosen a path that no longer led to her doorway.  We talked much about the prodigal, about not giving up, but no longer chasing after either.  She began to make plans to turn that empty room into a sewing space, or guest room, or - hey, knock out the wall and enlarge her own bedroom!  Yeah - that sounds like a plan.  For the first time in years she became excited about the possibilities and promise that empty room held for her.  I, as her friend, was just happy to think she was no longer going to allow this spiteful emptiness to taunt her.

Two days after she made the decision to begin by clearing out and repainting the room the child showed up on the doorstep, her own child in tow, with bag and baggage.  She was moving "home."  No permission was needed as far as she was concerned.  No apology.  No repentance.  The months since have been horrific.  The rebellious teen is now a hate-filled, vindictive young woman.  My friend's home and heart have been turned upside down. 

Why, one wonders, doesn't she just say "Out!"  Because now there is another child, this precious grandbaby.  The family is vehement in their intent to protect her from the life her mother now leads. ... and the last state of that man is worse that the first - because now they feel they must endure the ruthless, controlling dictates of the mother in order to keep the babe safe.

I know this is the story of too many parents and grandparents in this age.  I also know, and remind my friend often, that "we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers ..."  Hard, as a mother who once turned the child over the knee, to keep in mind.

I pray for my friend, for her child, her grandchild.  I weep with her.  I am at times overwhelmed with dismay and, frankly, disgust on her behalf.  I also find myself having to clean my house after she's visited - sweeping away my own anger and judgment.

I have learned some valuable lessons from this experience.  That it is a good thing to clear out and put to order those rooms of my heart that have been vacated.  But I must rededicate the room to something right(eous) and useful - it cannot be left empty.  My own "spare room" had been redecorated and designated as a guestroom.   But I recently realized that it had become filled with so many memories and whatnots that there was little space left for the One I would most like to inhabit it.  He has held the key to my hearthome for many years and has always been welcome to any and every room in it, but I'd allowed so much clutter to accumulate in this one room that He was hardly able to move in there.  So I am in the process of clearing it out again.  I am determined to allow no one or thing into that space without His express welcome, though I admit that there are times I am tempted to open the door to its old occupants out of pity (self), or custom, or even loneliness.  But then I remember to Whom these rooms belong and am able to say, in fullness of faith, "I have no vacancy."  The desire of my heart is to be filled to capacity with His abiding Presence.

Come, Lord Jesus!  Fill the emptiness of my soul.  Let my life's rooms echo with the sounds of joyful love expressed and the laughter of Your Spirit.  May my heart be bright with the flame of Your light and scented with the fragrance of Life - eternal and everlasting, in You.  Amen.

"In the midst of darkness, saints may not have strength to pursue [their] dreams.  But it may be, in the mercy of God, that as we wait for the light to go up, we can do poorly what we would love to do well."  John Piper, When the Darkness Will Not Lift

From this haven under the wondrous wing of God, as I "wait for the light to go up," I begin to feel like a child confined to the house because of nasty weather - nose pressed against the window, watching the rains pound against the pane, longing for the sun to return so I can go out and play.

When the LORD lifted His wing to offer me welcome and refuge from the storms that I was struggling to endure I gratefully crawled beneath it.  There He has given me shelter and helped me learn again to find joy and strength in His presence.  But now it seems that the skies are clearing and I can see the sun's light playing on the ground just beyond the edges of the shadow.  It is filled with the flutter of life and purpose and it beckons me to step into its warmth.

A gentle whisper stirs the air around me.  Could it be the voice of my Beloved speaking to my soul?  Little one, the storm has passed - step out into the light and spread your wings.

Unlike the child who, with such encouragement, would burst out with a great whoop of joy, I hold back.  Why?  Perhaps because I have no dream to pursue, no sense of what purpose might await me.  Yet, I have a growing awareness that I was never invited to "pitch tent" in this sweet shadow.  It is a place to rest for a season, not a lifetime. " ... in the shadow of Your wings I will make my refuge, until these calamities have passed by."  Ps 57:1

Many things I have learned to "do poorly" ~ what is it, I am left to wonder, I "would love to do well."

I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me.  You have made me strong, Lord.  Now I pray for courage to step out of the shadows.  In Christ.  With Christ - my Light.

"No doubt of it, but God reveals wonders, and does great deeds that we cannot understand.  When He says to the snow, 'Fall on the earth' or tells the rain to pour down in torrents, He brings all men's strivings to a standstill so that each must acknowledge His hand at work."  Job 37:5-7

This time last year I was preparing for a visit from a (dare I say "old") friend.  We hadn't seen one another for several years and it was her first journey to my home since we'd moved away 19 years earlier.  She was flying in two days after Easter and I was so tickled that she was coming and absolutely thrilled that she was going to see our state in its spring grandeur.  The roadways were filled with the beauty of the wildflowers, my own yard a palette of color - trees in leaf, the shades and scent of lilac, pale yellow banksia roses, and a perennial favorite 'round these parts, the bluebonnets, which covered the upper portion of our front "lawn."  Moreover, what a joy it would be for her, locked in a northern winter, to feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and breathe fresh air wafting through the open windows. 

Good Friday fell upon us with a shock of frigid weather.  I worried about the growing things - the flowers, my plum trees with thumb size fruit already set, the peaches just coming out of blossom.   Walking the gardens I prayed for more seasonable weather.  As the sun set on the eve of Easter the temperature plummeted.  I prayed all the more - Lord, please, for the plants, for my friend, let it warm up! 

Sunday morning I rose early to a bright, white world.  Snow, 6 inches deep in some areas, covered everything.  Sigh.  The last bit of hope I'd held for the plantlife melted away with the slush on the walkway.  By the afternoon most of the snowfall had soaked into the ground.  Sodden flower heads drooped.  Grass lay plastered to the earth.  As I lamented what I thought was the end of our lovely spring I remembered something from my few years in a northern clime - the snow was not an enemy!  In fact, it was what protected tender plants, serving as an insulator against the cold.  Snow, beautiful snow!  The Lord had not dismissed my plea!  He, in His wisdom and care, had sent the perfect answer to my prayer.

Monday dawned warm and clear and by the time I drove to the airport to meet my friend on Tuesday the roadsides were brighter and more welcoming than ever.  We shared a wonderful time together basking in the sun, delighting in the perfumed scents of Spring.

There have been many times it has seemed as if God wasn't answering my cries for mercy, indifferent to my need to feel the warmth of the Son in my life.  Times I've been "under the weather," when a numbing cold fell like snow upon the soil of my soul.  Often this happens just when I am beginning to experience and rejoice in some new growth - a greening in my spirit, promise and hope springing up in fragrant blossom.  It may well be that some of those sudden and unexpected storms are "attacks" designed to freeze my faith, to shrivel my fruitfulness.  But how many more are blessings "in disguise"?  And which will I be most quick to assume? 

Which will you?

I've been watching too much BBC on our local public station.  Have found myself saying compost (short "o") when talking about the dung and stuff we spread on American gardens called compOst (long "o").  A few days ago I was reading something online that was listed as a "repost."  For whatever reason I read that word with a short "o" and decided it must be one of them new-fangled words bloggers (yes, like "bloggers") have created.  I actually spent more than a minute trying to decipher the meaning when - ding-a-ling - I realized it was a (long "o") re-pOsting of a previously (long "o") posted piece.

Reminded me of working in a multinational Armed Forces library in the Netherlands.  We stocked our shelves with books written in French, English (to include American), German, and Dutch.  A new volume arrived that I just glanced at and placed in the German section.  Someone returned it to the circulation desk to be reshelved.  OK, perhaps it's Dutch (the languages have some words in common), so I put it in that section.  Again it was brought back to the desk.  Hmmm ... I was stymied.  I looked at the title again - Die (Dutch or German - pronounced "dee" meaning "the"), ok, Rich (though I was not familiar with the word I tried to pronounce it with the guttural hard "ch"); then I noticed the author.  American.  Shifting mental gears I reread the title -  Die  (long "i") Rich.  Altogether now, Die Rich!  (This is NOT an endorsement for the book!)  OH!!! (very long "o")  Boy, did I feel "stoopid."  (Texas slang, y'all.)

So, here's the point - We reflect our environment.  The way we think, pronounce, define, interpret - rightly or wrongly - is due in large part to our cultural upbringing or surroundings.  Cultural, in this sense, meaning ethnically, denominationally, or even regionally.  (For instance, I can tell which part of my state someone hails from by the pitch of their twang or their particular slang.)  As one dear Brother commented, we won't always agree with one another - you say toMAto, I say toMAHto (not really, but you get the idea.)  What WE are to reflect is the Glory of our Beloved Lord.  He is our environment - for in Him we live and move and have our being!  (Acts 17:28)

This past week I've seen this "community" come together as The Church.  Encouraging, reaching out, ministering to one another.  It's been a blessing to watch and be a part of.  No, we won't always be in agreement on issues of doctrine, pronunciation, scriptural interpretation, or employment of ministry gifts, but "... as we have many members in one body, but all the members do not have the same function, so, we, being many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another.  Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them ..."  Ro 12:4-6a NKJ

To His glory!

By His grace ~ p

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