As I woke up this morning, I felt a desire to just turn off all the conflicting messages about this unsettled time in our national history.

            I have deep friendships with people who hold radically opposing views. I know what news I will read by choosing FOX and then finding the same story unrecognizable on CNN. Even our concerned people of faith who are convinced of a global conspiracy are leaving me weary.

            So, in this mental state of not being interested in what anybody else thinks, I asked God directly what He wanted me to know today.

            He said, “Get ready for a new God story”.

            Then He reminded me that some of my favorite stories were birthed at a time and place much like my today. They happened in places I had never been before. They brought me face to face with challenges for which I had no resources. Spaces where fear reared its ugly head and needed to be stomped down by faith.

            But, they all ended with a bolder belief that there is a God, that He knows my name, is not in anyway limited by my fear and loves to see my eyes pop when He does for me what I know could only have been done by Him.

            My stories include a near death plane ride between ridges of the Andes mountains in Bolivia in a fog that reduced visibility to zero. I was sitting in the tail of this small plane crying. The pilot confessed that he knew we were between mountains, but he couldn’t see. Then, suddenly he said,” We are going to be OK. I can see now.”  It was only upon landing that we learned that the missionaries had heard the engine of our plane and watched the fog lift in front of our path as they prayed.  

            I’m reminded of my time scrunched in the back of a pickup truck in Mali, West Africa. The trip had taken longer than we had planned, and we were hungry. We stopped at a remote desert site where two Bedouin brothers were cooking in a large pot over an open fire. Our missionary interpreters asked if there was a place up the road where we could buy food. The two men responded by finding a hubcap, scooping some of their “casserole” on to it for themselves and giving us the rest. The nurse in me said to myself, “You have no idea what this food is, but I did actually have a mental picture of rats, bats and tumbleweed.” My mind went on to remind me that there is no where these men could have washed their hands or prepared the food, so don’t eat it”.

            But, my missionary friend, who knew my aversion to germs, glared at me with her eyes. Her eyes clearly spoke, “Roselyn, you are going to eat this!”.

            I prayed and said, “There is either a God or there isn’t” after which I swallowed the desert combo. As you now know, I lived to tell the story and still stand in awe of the kindness of these strangers and the protection of my God.

            Finally, there is the story of being in the custody of the Police in China. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would die from heart failure before any decision was made about my case. But, as my interrogation began, I was filled with a boldness that amazed me. I actually enjoyed debating the charges that were filed and when I was asked if I was a Christian, the word “Yes” jumped out of my mouth before I had time to form it. God was there giving me the words to say just as He promised in Luke 12:11.

            Each of these stories were platforms where fear and faith stood in opposition to each other. I cannot say, “Watch me be me” in any of these scenes, but I can say, “Watch God be God” in each of them.

            Now, as I stand ready to be called out to play my part in this production entitled “What’s next for America” I pray I can benefit from what I have seen God do in the past. I am excited that as in each of the earlier stories, I am being given a script that will draw me into deeper intimacy with Jesus.

            Coming Soon: A New God Story!!

  Through the Lens of a Disciple

                                  bh

                 I asked my friend, who is an accomplished artist, if we could paint a scene together. I did not recognize, at this point, that I was stepping into the role of a disciple, one who follows a teacher with a desire to become like her/him.

            I have just started to dabble in acrylics, but I wanted to surprise another friend with a painting of her favorite lakeshore view. 

            My artist friend graciously agreed, even expressed delight at the idea.

           We set a date.  I asked what I should bring. She smiled and said I should bring a hat for the sun.

            This friend picked me up on the morning of this adventure and we drove together to the spot I had chosen. From the back of her van she lifted a little cart. I would soon learn that from this well- worn cart an array of supplies would emerge. An easel was pulled up and erected, a palate with a rich history was attached, brushes and knives were spread out as crowded tubes of paint were exposed.

            This artist, now fully engaged, had already scanned the landscape and taken several Iphone shots. This was to determine the angle we wanted to capture and also to memorize the effects of light, which would change in just two hours.

            We agreed on the boundaries of the painting. I then watched as she dug through tubes of oil paint. She quickly chose about 12 and squeezed them around the edge of her palate leaving the middle open for mixing.

            Her first words to me as she picked up a brush were, “Now I’m going to freak you out”. This was said to prepare me for watching as she slapped broad swatches of pink and brown on the virgin canvas. I responded with, “I hope you brought another one”. The colors I felt the scene called for were blue water/sky and green grass.

            My teacher worked quickly patiently taking me beyond my comfort level by describing the colors in terms of value, the height of images in terms of notes on a 

staff and the need to capture the light source at just the right angle.

            As I watched the hand of this brilliant woman transfer the beauty of the created world onto this simple piece of canvas I could only stand in awe. I knew, as I watched, that my vision of a joint project had not measured the distance between her abilities and mine.

             With grateful humility I said, “I am not going to paint on this masterpiece with my hand”. Suddenly, all I wanted to do is watch in wonder and just be with the creator of this work.

            This image that had no predictability for me was gradually transforming the colors and lines that meant nothing to me into a reflection of what I was seeing in nature. To fully appreciate we needed to step back a few yards. The details actually clarify with distance. (I want to learn more about impressionism.)

            My teacher then honored me by asking me to decide if she was done.

            The on-site work was done but the artist was not done with her creation. She carefully moved it to a safe place for transport and then explained it would need to dry for 2 weeks. After that time she would provide a frame.

            She handled the still wet painting with tender loving care. It was, in fact, her creation and would be recognized by her initials in the lower right- hand corner.

            As I reflect on the privilege that was mine to be a disciple of this creative friend my mind asks if this day holds teaching moments that transfer to becoming a disciple of Jesus. Let’s consider these questions:

            When we start out wanting to do something with or for Him, do we recognize that we don’t bring anything He needs? Do we recognize that He loves for us to be with Him as He works?

            Do we acknowledge that we need to trust that He knows what He is doing even when His first strokes don’t seem to fit our expectation of a finished project?

            Do we listen carefully to His teaching knowing He is inviting us to enter more deeply into His work?

            Do we recognize ourselves as His creation and remember that He is not done with us yet? Can we rest in the knowing that taking care of our process is near and dear to His heart?

            Do we remember that His name was carved into us before the creation of the world and initialed at the cross?  Do we remain cognizant that as a masterpiece we reflect our Creator?

Lord, teach us to see you through the lens of a disciple!