Stripping the Old Thing

When Jason and I were newly married we supped at a farmhouse dinning room table, an acquisition of mine from a garage sale instigated by the need for cheap items while furnishing an apartment during college years earlier.  We both liked the table except for it's awful red hued finish, so we set about stripping the old thing.  The old varnish did not relinquish it's right to color the wood easily.  After a week of working on the table nightly dutifully applying the chemical stripper and scraping off the bubbled gunk, we could see the glimmer of beauty beneath.  Another week's hard labor was spent sanding the said table by hand first with gritty rough paper that gave way to finer and finer grade.  Close to finished the table was more beautiful than it had ever been but the wood grain, it's natural form with nothing to intensify the beauty of delicate lines swirling onto knots intricately numbering the years given to the tree it was milled from, was almost unremarkable.  The first drop of linseed oil brought all that veiled beauty into focus.  Gently we rubbed oil into each board.  The created thing intensified and made clear.  Detail upon hidden detail unclouded, luminous.

I have been that table, though in which phase of the stripping I am slightly unsure.  Whether God is still using strong chemicals to strip painfully away the gunk that has accumulated over time or if He, in His great wisdom, has already donned glove and sanding block I can not quite tell.  A thing worked on rarely has the insight to rightly discern it's own progress.  Scraping and sanding feel very similar to the soul until it is complete and memory recalls the slight change in shape of the stripping away, a hard steel edge versus the many faceted grit of sand.  If I were to hazard a guess however,  I think God has pulled out his stock of sanding supplies to use on me, not the fine grit mind you but past the smelly chemicals except perhaps in corners where old things hold deeper on.  In those places God takes extra time being absolutely sure the old varnish doesn't cling to the cracks;  those places hurt most intensely but are made the more beautiful for it.  

God has spiritually been stripping the old things from me over the recent years.  The transition from hard steel to grit of sand, I believe, has been marked by several things the most visible being the physical stripping of old things.  There is change with the prospect of tremendous growth when one can do nothing but lay about.  Bitterness and frustration threaten but I know what the unveiled beauty of that common farmhouse table looked like.  How much more so a prized and favored creation thought of and beloved from before time itself?

And I know when the rough stripping is finished the finer work begins.  The sanding process requires patience and an eye for perfection.  Timing is tantamount.  Linseed applied too soon and some beauty is left unseen, uncovered, veiled and hidden from view.  I have patience yet for this fine work when it begins if it hasn't already started.  And what will be my linseed?  What will God add to bring out the beauty He created in me?  A Divine Rag soaked in His great grace lovingly, gently applied till all comes to Light. 

Distracted

Apparently God isn't done teaching me things yet while I slowly recover.  I suppose that should not come as a shock to me or anyone but I thought I had learned enough from this whole ordeal; God has other plans.

I picked up a book a few days ago that I had been reading over the last few months; it is a fabulous book called Twelve Extraordinary Women by John MacArthur.  MacArthur delves into the lives and the impact 12 different women of the Bible had in their time and in ours.  The chapter I read the other day was about Martha and Mary and a specific visit Jesus made to their home found in Luke 10.  Four simple words have been bouncing around in my head ever since.

"distracted with much serving"

I have read this story so many times.  Mostly I have found this story used as a call to be still, to be a mindful worshiper.  MacArthur does touch on that truth, however, he seeks to find the jewel in Martha's service by comparing her to another of Jesus' hosts found in Luke 7.   "Martha, to her great credit, was at the opposite end of the hospitality spectrum from Simon the Pharisee.  She fussed over her hostessing duties.  She wanted everything to be just right.  She was a conscientious and considerate hostess, and these were admirable traits.  Much in her behavior was commendable."  Martha's practicality and desire to give her Lord her best are things I can relate to easily.

Being a word junkie I started to dig.  The word perispao that in NIV translates as "distracted" is translated in KJV as "was cumbered."  Mr. Webster defines the verb "distracted" as such, "to take (attention) away from someone or something", "to draw or direct (as one's attention) to a different object or in different directions at the same time", and "to stir up or confuse with conflicting emotions or motives."   The verb "cumbered" is defined as such, "to hinder by being in the way, to clutter up."

One more word study and I will get to the meat of the lesson God is teaching me.  The word translated as "serving" is dikonia.  This word is the same word that is translated in many places in the Bible as "to minister."  Mr Webster defines "serving" as such, "to be of use", "to be worthy of reliance or trust", and "to give the service and respect due to a superior." Webster also defines "serving" as "to set out portions of food or drink."  Although that is the physical situation Martha was in during this glimpse into her home, I have a feeling her spiritual and emotional desires run more along the lines of the first three definitions.

   

I'd like to think the best of Martha, perhaps because she is much like myself.  Martha was drawn in many directions that day and the house guests, Jesus in particular, resulted in conflicting emotions.  She desired to lavish Jesus with the service He deserved.  She was upset that others, her sister in particular, were not on the same page.  I defend her actions because I am wired similarly. Hopefully I would not judge my sister based on how she lavished her dikonia on our house guests.  I would be in the kitchen even if no one else was.  

But now that I cannot be of physical service I am forced to sit at His feet.  Between you and me, I think He has been trying to get me to this place for quite some time.  It is not just serving God that has become more practical busy-ness than relational.  It is the same with family and friends.  "Serving in the kitchen" and neglecting to purposefully "share a meal."  Doing for them instead of being with them.  The Bible calls us to both types of service.

MacArthur ends the chapter with this,

"Martha was a noble and godly woman with a servant's heart and a rare capacity for work.  Mary was nobler still, with an unusual predisposition for worship and wisdom.  Both were remarkable in their own ways.  If we weigh their gifts and their instincts together, they give us a wonderful example to follow.  May we diligently cultivate the best instincts of both of these extraordinary women."

A Slow Train Coming

It has been so long since I have written anything.  But I do have a solid excuse!  Summer has come and gone in a whirlwind.  I have enjoyed almost every moment of it with my kids and hubby.  The enjoyment came to an abrupt end when the migraine began in early August.


The last three weeks of August has gone by in a blur with only a few specific moments standing out.  A lot has happened but for me it has all be dulled and sloshed together by pain or pain killers and countless hours lying down.  Now, 4 weeks later, I am still walking like a 90 year old - a slow train coming down the tracks with intent and purpose but very little fire. 

I am struggling to find the purpose of the last 4 weeks of my life.  I have asked God many times what I am to learn from this, why is it happening.  He has been fairly quiet; I think God wants me to figure this one out on my own…maybe that should be a type of compliment or perhaps a last ditch effort to get me to pay attention to previous lessons.  Three things have occurred to me in the past few days and I am sure the Holy Spirit has something to do with them.

1.  It is not all about me.  How many times does God have to teach me that one until I finally get it all the way to my core?  This time of hurt and healing is as much about those around me as it has to do with me.  Growing others by having them step up to serve, having them close the gap to make things happen, maturing my children in ways that couldn't happen otherwise, and forcing me to step out of the way so that others can find their potential.  Hello, my name is Koren, and I am addicted to doing. And sometimes my doing gets in God's way.

2.  Patience is a virtue I haven't yet mastered. Have any of you?  I would love your cheat sheet – there I go again not being patient.  Patience with others is so much easier than patience with self.  

3.  King David had it right.  I need to call on God in times of personal trial, especially in times of personal trial.  Who else am I going to go to?  

I confess all this to you as a means of encouragement.  We all have been through impossible situations that seem like they are going to swallow us whole.  But with God all things are possible.  And He uses everything in our lives to draw us closer to Him, grow us to be more like Him, and show Christ to those around us.  All we have to do is believe, trust, obey, and walk the road we are on in full confidence, not in ourselves, but in Him who made us.

Rahab

I have been reading a book about women of the Bible. The last chapter I read was about Rahab. I have a lot in common with her, not her line of work of course but with her need for extraordinary grace. The author says, "Rahab was redeemed not because of any meritorious works she did. She did not earn God's favor by any good deeds. Remember, even what she did do right – harboring the spies – was morally tainted because of the way she handled it. She lied. But she is not given to us as an example of the power of human works. She is not a lesson in how to better ourselves through self-improvement. She is a reminder that God by His grace can redeem even the most horrible life."

No matter what amount of "self-improvement" I can muster the sins that I struggle with persist. Why? Because only God's amazing grace can redeem the sin nature in me. I have a new Bible hero – Rahab. Some theologians attempt to sterilize her background with creative interpretations of the original wording in the Bible. She was a prostitute.  There is no way around it - distasteful as it may be.  God purposely choose her, I believe because of her great sin.  Her story is not her own.  It is God's.  If you "remove the stigma of sin" you also "remove the need for grace. Rahab is extraordinary precisely because she received extraordinary grace. There's no need to reinvent her past to try to make her seem less of a sinner. The disturbing fact about what she once was simply magnifies the glory of divine grace, which is what made her the extraordinary woman she became. That, after all, is the whole lesson of her life."

I admit my affinity to Rahab.  God has not allowed me to forget how closely I am related to her in my frustrating ability to sin and my need for His love and grace.  Recently a friend shared a link to another blog, parts of which resonated with me just as deeply as Rahab's life story perhaps because it is so much a part of Rahab's story.  

"…start imagining what it would feel like to throw away our internal lists of all the expectations that we put on ourselves, and others.  That's a scary kind of freedom that is offered to us.  Grace can be dangerous like that.

Though it's tough to take the time to examine our hearts at a deeper level, and expose our fears and our self righteous judgements…we can know that when we do that, God's incredible love and acceptance is just waiting to swallow us up!

As we press on in learning to rest in that kind of grace, we can thank God for the cross.  The one place we can run to for refuge.

Thank the Lord there is an endless supply of His grace awaiting there for all of us…every single day."

Ever feel like sin begins to define who we are?  Like it is going to swallow you up and never spit you back out again.  That like Paul you can honestly say, "The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin.  I don't really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don't do it.  Instead, I do what I hate."  Romans 7:14-15  (At least I am in good company.)  Sin can become so much a part of our lives that it begins to be who we view ourselves as, who others view us as.  How hard must it have been for Rahab to allow God to redefine who she was in His light and truth?  She had been a prostitute and, although the town she lived in was destroyed and every person put to death except for Rahab and her closest family members; she had herself to contend with.  Ourselves and our families are often the hardest to convince of change perhaps because they generally know us the best.

God as our Heavenly Father doesn't have that problem.  He created us perfectly in His image.  He sees what we do not, the creation before sin.  He knows what we could be and desires above all else to reveal His nature in us.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1  Nothing in this verse says it will be easy.  True freedom rarely is.  But the verse says that true freedom is possible – that is the hope of Christ.  "But if I know that what I am doing is wrong, this shows that I agree that the law is good.  So I am not the one doing wrong; it is the sin in me that does it."  Romans 7:16-17 When we allow Christ full access to our hearts and are willing to dive into the deep with Him by our side, His light will illuminate even our darkest most entrenched corners of self expectation and definition.  His light will strengthen the truth found there and eliminate the lies replacing them with nothing less than Himself.  Glory!

The Curator Part 2

I have been thinking a lot this morning about how God is a curator, my curator.  A curator is defined as a person in charge of a museum selecting and managing its contents.  They choose the masterpieces to put on display and see the counterfeits for what they are – a cheap replica that has no real value. Legally, a curator is a guardian of a minor, lunatic, or other incompetent.  Some days that may fit the description of God's job in my life a bit better than taking care of priceless art.  But what really caught my attention this morning is the origin of the word.  It comes from a 14th century Latin word cura which means to care for, attend to and is the same root that gave us the word "cure".

I think that God has His job cut out for Him in selecting and managing those things in me He wants to care for and attend to with the purpose of healing them and making them whole.  The problem is that sometimes the painting He wants to attend to, a counterfeit that needs to burn or a masterpiece that needs some cleaning,  refuses to leave its place on the wall.  It seems as though I have inadvertently been too liberal with the super glue of entrenched ideas and sin.  What a privilege it would be to be fully restored.  To walk down the hall of my life and see masterpiece after masterpiece lined up and beautiful giving glory to God.  Oh Lord help me stop getting in Your way.  And thank You that You are stronger than super glue!

Beauty

Much as Eve was the crown of creation, dance is the quintessential art form.  And classical ballet, in my humble opinion, would be the art form's crown.  Maybe that is why I love it so much.  It is the perfect marriage of form, beauty, artistry, music, power, and determination.  Indeed, Albert Einstein once said, "Dancers are the athletes of God."

My Epitaph

In some leisure reading this week I came across a comical expression, "unsuccessful attire".  It was in George Eliot's Scenes of Clerical Life and described a woman in a certain parish.  I chuckled to myself when that description of the ladies clothing choice was offered.  My first thought, I must confess , was "I certainly hope none can say that about my attire."  My second thought came quickly after, "There are much worse things than unsuccessful attire."

For instance, to be remembered for "unsuccessful parenting" or "unsuccessful maturing in the Lord" or "unsuccessful homemaking".  The list could be virtually endless.  This thought chain lead me to thinking about what I would want written about me, which then lead me to an obscure book I bought years ago at a Christian conference.  It is one of a very few books on my shelf that I haven't finished, the writing is unremarkable.  Why buy it?  It was the dedication to the author's mother (who happens to have a fabulous name).

To ALBY KIPHUTH-

Or as I know her,

Mom.

You have always been a great adventurer, a passionate lover of life, a free spirit with a questioning mind, an insatiable curiosity, an extraordinary resilience, and an indomitable spirit.

You are proof of the beauty of the human spirit.

So much better than "unsuccessful attire", no?  It is almost exactly what I want as my epitaph.  The only addition needed is how none of it would be possible without the inexpressible grace and mercy of my Lord and Savior, Jesus who loves me despite myself.  

How would you want your epitaph to read?