Just Frances T 
At the dedication of the temple, a lot of stuff was happening. There were musicians and singers praising the Lord, the Ark of the Covenant taking its place in the Holy of Holies, and so many offerings to the Lord that they lost count. In the midst of this powerful moment, the Lord showed up (as planned). When he showed up, however, he completely derailed the plan.
At that moment a thick cloud filled the Temple of the Lord. The priests could not continue their service because of the cloud, for the glorious presence of the Lord filled the Temple of God. 2 Chronicles 5:13, 14
As I read this account, I could see myself as a priest in the temple with a great plan and lots of stuff to do for God, but getting irritated by this moment. “I have so much work to do! I’ll never get to the end of my list now! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!”
I think when I say that I want God to show up, I mean that I’d like for him to appear, pat me on the head, and offer his stamp of approval and clear the path for whatever I’m doing. What it actually looks like is messier, often resembling a distraction that changes the course of the day, sometimes even our lives.
When the Lord showed up in the temple, nothing more needed to be done. The most important thing happened. The temple was now full of the Lord’s presence, which had been the point all along.
As I got into my car a few weeks ago, rushing to a meeting [of course], I heard a song that said, “I’m overwhelmed…” which put a wry smile on my face [“You have no idea!”], but the next line took a 90 degree turn. “I’m overwhelmed by You.” My smile actually grew. There’s something bigger and more overwhelming than my to-do list! If I’m only focusing on the things I’m doing, I can forget the one for whom I’m doing them and with whom I have the strength to persevere. That song reminded me to pause and remember that I needed to shift my gaze, so that I might be overwhelmed in the right way: in worship of Jesus.
My prayer continues to be that I would be overwhelmed by the presence of Jesus. I pray that when distractions and derailments from him arise, that I would respond in awe, not ire.
“If you’re going to bomb, you might as well look cute doing it.”
See, I did look cute.
After my sermon last Saturday night, I said those exact words to my husband. It just didn’t click for me. Something was off, but I didn’t know how to pinpoint what it was. I knew my gut was right when I asked my husband for feedback and, for the first time perhaps ever, he had some.
So I went home, reworked some things, and got the message clear in my mind. I wore an even cuter outfit on Sunday, since it was Mother’s Day, and gave the message two more tries. It clicked more, but still wasn’t my favorite. I talked with a couple of people after the service, mostly because they liked my shiny, red shoes and petticoat [seriously, who wouldn’t like them?]. Needless to say, I didn’t get the feeling that I connected.
I silently thanked Jesus that I read a devotional the week before in which the author recounted a story of completely bombing as a speaker at a speaker’s conference. Yikes! She said her friend talked her out from hiding under a rock by reminding her that Dustin Hoffman was in a terrible movie called Ishtar. He could’ve quit acting, but he kept going and won an Oscar two years later. She summed up her experience with the phrase, “Ishtar happens.” Even when you do bomb, you get back up and keep going.
It wasn’t until people started commenting on social media and sharing the message link that I realized some people did like the message. Even without feeling like God used me, he did. I had braced myself for the worst, but it wasn’t as I thought.
My takeaway from this experience can be summed up as, “Do your best and trust God with the results.” I can only do so much to make a message connect with an audience. If I’ve prayed and prepared as much as I needed to, it’s not up to me to make sure that the message changes lives. That part is up to the Holy Spirit. Recognizing my role in the process frees me from lingering regret.
I’ve also learned that using comments after a service or social media likes is a terrible way to gauge whether a message was good. Sure, I should hope people liked it, but sometimes it takes a while to sink in. Other times, a good sermon will leave people in a bad place. As the Holy Spirit speaks, we might be left with conviction of sin or deeper, painful issues that need healing floating near the surface. I wouldn’t be apt to say, “Super job, pastor!” after a message like that either, even if God is doing exactly what he intended through the preacher.
May each of us move forward doing our best at the things God has called us to do and trusting him with the results. As we do so, I pray we’d know the freedom from comparing ourselves to others and measuring our worth in likes.
I’ve spent the past couple of weeks slowly chewing through Stephen King’s book, Needful Things. I would have finished it much faster if left to my own devices, but I had pesky distractions: preaching, a child, sleep! [I know, I know, the last is not a valid distraction for a book lover]. Reading fiction is a pleasure I haven’t spent nearly enough time indulging lately, so this was a treat. As I read the book, one really important lesson began to surface for me.
Without giving too much away, the book basically follows different people in the small town of Castle Rock, Maine following the opening of a new store called Needful Things. This store sells random stuff, but everyone who enters finds their perfect thing. Even better, the prices are unbelievable. For a small amount of money and the promise to pull a prank for the proprietor, everyone walks out with treasures. Two things happen as a result, each person becomes consumed with their new-found treasure and the tricks have devastating consequences.
Midway through the book, the reader learns that these unbelievable finds are not what they seem. Their owners see mint-condition treasures; everyone else sees junk. One character sees his needful thing for what it really was for a split second and hears a small voice inside him say, “This is how it was from the very start…You just didn’t see it.”
This reveal made me sad for the different characters. Here they traded their relationships, their sanity, even their lives to own objects that were moth-eaten, dog-eared, broken-down and bound for the landfill. It wasn’t worth it. They just couldn’t see that until it was too late.
This also brought the aforementioned lesson. I began to think about the things that I pine away for: a home to own, for instance, and realized that I, too, have needful things, things that I want so badly that I mistake them for needs. I thought of how I trade my peace looking at things that I can’t have or incurring debt for countless other things. We all do. Like the characters in this book, we see such things as so precious that we’re willing to trade our time, our money, and sadly sometimes our health, relationships, and sanity just to hold them for a split second. A split second is all we get with stuff in this world.
When we give up so much for so little, it’s because we don’t see it for what it is, just like the characters in the book. Everything we own, even the most precious or stalwart is bound for the trash heap. It may not be today, or even in our lifetime, but in light of eternity, it will be gone. That is why Jesus taught, “Don’t store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be” (Matthew 6:19-21). It’s not wrong to own stuff, it just won’t last, so we would do well to be careful what we’re willing to pay for it.
The title of this book also reminded me that there’s truly only one thing we need. “But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42, KJV). We need Jesus. May we cling to him and our time at his feet all the more when other “needful” things come calling.
So I woke up this morning kicking myself because there’s one thing I wish I said succinctly in my last post about the journey to “after”. I hinted at it talking about the journey being comprised of many tiny steps, but didn’t quite spell it out. It needs to be said because as people have noticed my weight loss and inevitably asked, “How’d you do it?” I’ve seen their faces fall when I tell them the truth. What needs to be said is:
There are no shortcuts.
At first I was embarrassed to admit that I signed up for the medical weight management program because it felt like a shortcut. It felt like I was admitting that I couldn’t just change my diet on my own and so I needed to go on a crash diet for a few months to lose a bunch of weight [which would make a reappearance in a year or two]. I felt that way because at the outset, I actually did want a shortcut and thought this might just be the silver bullet I was looking for.
I found very quickly that I still had to work hard the past 30 weeks and confront all of my excuses. I had to find the time to exercise. I had to find the tools that would help keep me on track. The amount of effort I put into the program affected my results. People in the exact same program could have very different outcomes based on how much they are able to exercise and how well they keep up the program after transitioning to regular food. It turns out that the program boils down to diet and exercise, which can be disappointing when you’re looking for a cure-all.
I felt like I had to write a second post to say this because while I’m talking specifically about weight loss, this principle applies generally to change. Whether we’re wanting to change some ingrained behavior, grow spiritually, or make strong leaders out of raw materials, there are no shortcuts. Change happens slowly–way too slowly for our instant-gratification-saturated world.
It would be awesome for God to jump in and change me with a zap. He more often works in supernaturally natural ways. For instance, he’ll give me the strength to take another step in the right direction [or away from the wrong one] when I really don’t want to or bring the right person into my life at just the right time with the perfect words of encouragement. Letting go of shortcuts paves the way for deep and permanent change. It also gives me peace to walk the path the Lord calls me to walk. It may be longer and more difficult than the shortcut I’d prefer, but I’ll only find him when I walk his path.
I thank Jesus that he walks with me as I take the long way around and trust that I will get there in his timing.
As of this evening, I am officially done with the first part of my weight-loss program and have graduated into the more independent maintenance phase. Such a moment lends itself to reflection, since my graduation certificate even included a “before” and “after” photo. What have I learned on the journey to “after”?
- Change is comprised of a million, mostly unseen, steps. Countless meals I did (and did not) choose to eat. Literally hundreds of thousands of steps. Choosing to show up to my meetings every week, especially when I was afraid what the scale would say. I need to recognize that even though I had the benefit of a structured program, it was still hard work. I have fought hard to get to this place, and that work neither can be done nor undone in a day. Making the decisions I needed to means I am not the same person I was when I began. Bad days don’t mean I am the same person I was 30 weeks ago (this is particularly hard for me to believe). Small victories need to be celebrated because when piled on top of one another, those so-called small victories win the war.
- I am not the exception. I’ve heard all of the basic weight-loss tips: track your eating; get accountability; exercise on most days; don’t bring junk food where you can easily get it; weigh in regularly. For some reason, I assumed that I could somehow get around them, as if I were the exception. I’m not. If I’m going to be successful, I need to take seriously the advice/warnings of people who’ve been in my shoes or worked with people just like me. This is a surprisingly comforting thought, since that means there is a bevy of good information and tools at my disposal. I just need to make sure I use them because…
- There is no “after”. Even though I’ve graduated, I’m not done. I’ve spent the past 30 weeks preparing for the rest of my life. Now I’m here. I’ve taken countless steps in this direction. I’ve built in the habits and tools to help keep me going. I just need to keep going. I absolutely believe that I could end up right where I was. Of course, it won’t be overnight, but it’s possible. If I believe that I’m done, I’m done for. As I told the director of the program, “Graduating from here is like graduating kindergarten. It’s a real graduation, but if I quit there, I’m gonna have a hard time.”
All in all, I’m very glad I made this decision. It has stretched me and shown me that I’m capable of more than I thought I was. I’m healthier than I’ve been as an adult. I’m wearing a size I haven’t worn since junior high! I’m excited about the possibilities. It’s a good place.
The “before” and “after” pictures from my graduation certificate
I have to admit, last week was quite a week. Not the worst week ever, but clusters of annoying things have happened that left me laughing at the absurdity of it all by the end of the week. For instance, I visited the dentist on Monday for a routine cleaning. She warned me that I needed a crown on one tooth because it had fracture lines and could break. I made an appointment to come back and have it fixed the following week. Wednesday night, as I was munching on dinner, wouldn’t you know it, my tooth broke…but not the one the doctor warned me could break. So it meant another trip to the dentist for temporary work to tide me over until I could have two crowns put on next week.
I also brought my car in for routine 60,000 mile maintenance only to discover this week a grumbling and shaking when I used the air conditioner. The shop must’ve done something accidentally in their work, so back to the repair place I went for repairs to fix the first repairs.
Friday morning was perhaps the funniest of irritations as I tried to twist off the cap to my egg whites carton only to have the entire cap come off in my hand, leaving a gaping hole in the top. [Is that a sign that I’m too stressed out?] It was too ridiculous to make me mad. I just didn’t even have the energy to be upset, so I popped a piece of packing tape over the opening and enjoyed my breakfast.
As they say, when it rains, it pours.
Thursday afternoon, after I discovered my car would need to go back to the shop, I was a mess. I was upset, but couldn’t find the words to describe it. I read the Bible, looking for answers, and couldn’t find anything. I prayed, but it ended up being a jumble of thoughts winding their way back to the things that worried me. I think I wanted God to give me some definitive answer as to why all this stuff was happening to me. The question my mind wandered to was, “What am I supposed to learn from this?” I think I just wanted to check the “lesson learned” box so that life would go back to normal.
The sinking sensation I got in my searching prayers was that there wasn’t a lesson to learn. God wasn’t punishing me either. Bad stuff just happens sometimes. My experiences were relatively mild. I thank God for great dental insurance and a mechanic who repaired their mistake quickly [for free]. Sometimes the bad stuff is devastating: unexpected deaths, terminal diagnoses, losing everything in a natural disaster. We still don’t always get a lesson.
In a last-ditch effort to make something good out of all the bad, I picked up a book I’ve been slowly digesting called Contemplative Vision. This book uses different art masterpieces based on scripture to guide meditation. It just so happens that the chapter I was reading was about Jesus’ visit to Martha’s home. Jesus famously tells a harried Martha, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42
As I considered the story, I realized that even when answers and lessons don’t come, Jesus invites me to be with him in the midst of my worries. It’s hard to forget the financial worries of my week, but Jesus is saying they’re not the most important thing. The most important thing is to recognize that the God of the universe is inviting me to be with him right now. He’s listening to my goofy troubles and laughing with me. He’s with me in my heartbreaking losses, too, comforting and giving me hope. I could hear his whisper, “Don’t miss this opportunity to be with me. Don’t miss me for all the extra stuff you think needs to be done right now. Don’t miss me today.” I could’ve. I would’ve missed him, looking for a lesson to learn. I should have just been looking for Him.
I suppose there was a lesson after all.
I spent the weekend at Hume Lake with my husband, son, and in-laws. Matt grew up going Hume every summer, so it holds a special pace for him, but I never felt at home in his grandparents’ old, rustic cabin. Since that cabin is no longer in our immediate family, my mother-in-law, Lynne, has spent the last several months building a new cabin at Hume. As she built the cabin, she designed three floors, one for her and her husband, and one for each of her two sons and their families. She has been stressing for months over this project and it hasn’t been easy for her or any of us to have her away most of the time. I have to admit, I’ve often wondered whether it was going to be worth the high personal, financial, and relational cost my in-laws have paid. I mean, it’s just a cabin, right?
Now that the cabin is almost complete, it was time to see it. When we arrived at the cabin, it still looked like a construction zone from the outside with dirt and debris piled up, so I would have never guessed what lay inside. It was incredible! On our floor, there were many little touches that spoke of the careful planning and thought through the whole process: special lights that looked like lanterns, rocking chairs, retro appliances, and splashes of red everywhere. All of these things are special because they reflect my husband and I. It’s clear Lynne was thinking about and prepared this place for us. It was her joy to share it with us. The other floors are reflective of their occupants, too. Any questions I had as to whether it was worth the cost were gone. This is indeed a special place. It’s home.
As I lay in bed our first night at the cabin, I remembered Jesus’s words to his disciples just before his arrest and crucifixion:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” (John 14:1-3)
“I am going to prepare a place for you.”
I’m not sure that the place Jesus is preparing will have red accents and a lodge theme (though that would be awesome), but the experience of coming to the place Lynne prepared for us has taught me something: the place Jesus is preparing will be far beyond my expectations. If the cabin blew me away; how much more will the place Jesus is preparing? It is all too easy for me to forget that the reality of heaven will be far grander than anything I can imagine. I know I will be in awe of what he has done.
It wouldn’t surprise me at all if there were perfect touches that reflected the fact that Jesus knows me and loves me. But even if my place doesn’t reflect me, I know for certain it will reflect the Lord’s glory. The place Jesus has prepared through his death and resurrection is in the Father’s radiant presence, which will bring joy we can’t even begin to comprehend.
As time passes and Jesus hasn’t returned, it’s easy to be discouraged and begin to wonder whether persevering in faith is worth it. Will it be worth the cost? The darling Hume cabin reminds me that when I’m in the place Jesus has prepared for me, the answer will be an emphatic “YES!”
Unlike most of my classmates, I loved taking Greek and Hebrew in seminary. It helps that I had the most amazing, gorgeous tutor (my husband). The painstaking process of translating from the original languages illuminated the Bible for me like nothing else. Alas, you lose what you don’t use, so I currently don’t know as much as I did. There is one word in Hebrew that I remember: hin-nay’-ni (spelled phonetically). It’s just super fun to say. Try it. You didn’t try it. I’m telling you, you’re missing out if you don’t. Hinnayni means “Here I am!”
Once I learned this word, I started to notice it throughout the Old Testament. When God called Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, Abraham said “hinnayni” (Genesis 22:1). Moses said it when God spoke to him from the burning bush (Exodus 3:4). Isaiah said it in response to the Lord’s question, “Whom shall I send?” (Isaiah 6:8). Samuel said it when he thought Eli was rousing him from his sleep (but it was actually the Lord).
Don’t get me wrong, there’s no magic power in the word. It’s used in other, more common interactions throughout the Old Testament. The power is in the heart behind it. Declaring to the Lord, “Here I am” is responding to his calling and opening up yourself to his voice. “Here I am” is the less formal way of saying, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
One of the most common questions people ask is how to grow spiritually. The answer is predictable: read the Bible, pray, go to church, get around other people who will help and challenge you to grow spiritually. To put it simply, just show up. There are seasons where it seems like Jesus is speaking to you all the time and seasons of silence. In both, I urge people to keep showing up. Keep reading the Bible. Keep going to church. Keep praying. Keep meeting with other Christ followers. Because even when the touchy-feelies aren’t there, every time we show up, we declare “Here I am” and give Jesus the chance to speak.
I encourage you to pause for a moment right now and say, “Hinnayni. Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” May he show up as you just show up.
I have a makeshift desk on top of my mantle full of pictures, a baby hand print, and random knickknacks. It’s ideal because it’s the perfect height for me to stand as I work and keeps my laptop out of little hands’ reach. I also have a timely quote that I received in a package of clearance Christmas cards a few months back on my “desk”. It encouraged me then and continues to encourage me when I see it from time to time, so I hope it brings you hope today. 
Whether you’re fighting a stack of paperwork, an unending email queue, unruly kids, or something else, I pray you won’t be nursing a sense that you don’t matter. Where ever you find yourself today, may you “Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people. Remember that the Lord will give you an inheritance as your reward, and that the Master you are serving is Christ” (Colossians 3:23, 24). Happy Monday!
“Be sure to take advantage of the art supplies,” the retreat leader reminded us yet again. I remembered how much painting had been an “ah-ha” moment for me during my last reflective retreat, so I made a beeline for the art table, dying to see what Jesus would show me as I prayed and created.
I surveyed all the items carefully: mosaic paper, clay, charcoal pencils, colored pencils, paint, and watercolors, but I was drawn to the very first thing I laid eyes on: the mosaic paper. I’d never seen it before. It was only construction paper that had little perforated lines on it, but it called to me! A mosaic it would be. I grabbed a pad of the paper, a fresh sheet of white paper for my canvas, and a glue stick and headed outside.
I immediately saw a vision of what I could make in my head: spirals of different colors. Given my time constraints and limited artistic ability, it seemed completely doable. I started with green because someone had already used most of that sheet. I figured, “Why not use it up?” Apparently all great art starts with such practical thoughts in my world. It turns out, I didn’t have enough squares, so I had to take some from a fresh sheet. So much for keeping it tidy.
I chose a second color, this time making sure to tear out enough orange squares to complete the next spiral. Two things because immediately clear. 1) The squares weren’t going to fit neatly next to the first spiral. 2) I had way too many squares this time, provoking panic in my order-loving brain. “What am I going to do with all the extras?!”
Nevertheless, I pressed on and added 2 more colors: yellow and blue. As I got closer to realizing my original design, I temporarily set loose squares on the already completed rows for easier access while I continued to work. By the time I was done, I missed the messiness of those errant squares, so I glued a few on, making their temporary home permanent. I also found a home for the extra squares as I stared at the bare edges of the paper. Plain white paper just didn’t fit anymore. So the extra squares I tore out found a home as well.
I stared at the page and prayed, “Okay, Jesus, what can I learn from this?” The burning question in my mind for this retreat was simply, “What now? What should my life look like?” One look at my glue covered fingers and the jumble of paper squares on the page and a single word came to mind, “messy.”
I stared at the page more and turned it over. Turns out, when I flipped it over, the movement felt completely different. What was expanding and moving outward was now moving inward. I could see that as I moved forward in life it would be a simultaneous growing out and narrowing in. A growing out: the unfurling of petals as a blossom grows into a flower. A narrowing in: zeroing in on who I am created to be(come) in Jesus.
As I turned over the calendar page to a new month last week (one of the most satisfying things in my book), the verse said,
“Many are the plans in a person’s heart,
but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21
It suddenly became crystal clear that all of the plans I’ve been making for my life wouldn’t necessarily look the way I thought. There would be gaps and overlaps. Some places would be a straight shot, while others more meandering. Some seasons will feel like they’re way too long, while others feel like a flash of color that I’d long for more of.
Above all, it will be messy. But the Lord’s purpose prevails.
My prayer is that I’d see the beauty in the messiness. I pray for faith that I’m headed exactly where God intends for me to go, even if I can’t see the whole picture. Like a mosaic in process, all the pieces may seem jumbled today, but the Lord’s purpose prevails. One day, I will stand back in awe of the creation he’s made.
Frances
Just Frances T 