God

Six Months

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

In the winter of Hannah’s 5th grade year, a fellow PTA mom invited me to join a Bible study she attended. Our church did not have a women’s Bible study, and I knew my spiritual life was in rough shape. Plus, I felt ashamed to not go. It was once a week, yet it was one of the hardest commitments I had ever made. Each time I walked into that church, I felt such shame. It was as if I was walking through the hallway naked. I cannot think of another time in my life I have ever felt so uncomfortable. You would think I’d have recognized this as evidence of my sinful heart, but I was deeply deceived. I had fully given myself over to vain and selfish pursuits.

This was in 2001. We lived in small town on the New England seacoast. I loved living there, and our little family had a very nice life. Doug earned a generous salary that afforded me a very comfortable, stay-at-home life doing whatever pleased me. That included volunteering at our daughter’s school.

I was an ambitious volunteer, eager to make a place for myself amongst the PTA moms. By the end of Hannah’s 4th grade year, I had proven myself enough to be elected Co-President. I was delighted, because I loved running the show, being a big fish in that tiny, little pond. I cannot believe now how much value I placed on something so insignificant, but I did. It was all about me. I said it was all about the children—especially my own—but I was deceiving myself.

As I write this now, I can see how the Enemy had gotten a hold of my heart. I had such good and sincere motives when it all began, but I was investing my talents and energy into something that was corrupt at its core. Why was I expecting a secular organization, fueled by greed, to do what was right for the children? Why was I expecting them to have integrity? Why was I trying to make them see the injustice of their priorities? And, why was I giving endless hours of my time to help everyone else’s children, while time with my own daughter was often compromised by those “important” civic meetings?

Yet, despite the fact the Holy Spirit was so faithful to shine the light of truth on that situation, I just kept pressing on. “I’ll just write one more editorial.”  “I’ll just come up with an even better fund-raiser.”  “I’ll just ask for one more meeting.” It didn’t matter what we were trying to do. My motives were good, and there was just enough success from one month to the next to keep me thinking it was all worth it, but my heart was wicked.

Then, something happened. Something very unexpected, that took me totally by surprise.

It was April. I sat in a circle with the other nice ladies in that Bible study, Bibles and folders in our lap. The leader of the group asked a question that hadn’t been in our study notes. She asked us to just say the first thing that came to mind, without analyzing it. You know how we tend to do that sometimes?

Now, before I share her question, I want to ask you to do the same. Don’t analyze the question. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her question was: “What would you do, if you knew for sure that Jesus Christ was coming (the Rapture of the church) in six months?”

The answer that came to my mind, before I could stop it, diffuse it, or edit it, shocked me to my core.

“I would support my husband’s ministry.”

What?! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing myself say, but I knew any other answer would be a bold face lie. Yet, didn’t I already support him? Hadn’t I encouraged him in everything he did for the Lord? After all, he wasn’t called to full-time ministry. He was just a church volunteer, playing his instrument, leading worship. How did I not support him?

Quick as a flash, my head played back the countless times in recent years that he’d given time to a PTA event, or stayed home with Hannah so I could go to a meeting. I thought of the many, many times he was the only father present at events, because I’d asked him to take a day off to help.

I honestly did not have to try to remember anything, because the flood of condemning memories just kept coming.

But, wasn’t he just very supportive? Wasn’t it good for him to help?

I hate to say this, but I just didn’t get it. I prayed a prayer of some description before the Bible study finished, committing myself, asking for help, blah, blah, blah. Then, I went home and went back to work. I talked myself right out of that Holy Spirit conviction.

June came. The Bible study had ended for the summer, and 5th grade was coming to an end, too. Hannah would soon be promoted to the junior high. PTA elections were held, and I was unanimously voted-in to continue my reign, and I made sure there would be no more co- in my title. I had been saddled with a dead weight co-president long enough. I wanted the title I deserved.

It’s true.

I was really that wicked, that puffed-up. I was shameless. I was good at my job, though. I got things done. Was any other mom willing to work as hard as I did? It was disgusting how much I worked, and disgusting how wicked I’d become, but I kept telling myself I was doing a good thing.

So, at the beginning of June my big production, the Volunteer Appreciation Banquet, was coming together beautifully. I’d done all the Teacher Appreciation Week gifts myself, and did the Volunteer Appreciation gifts myself, too. Food was arranged. Beautiful invitations had been designed by yours truly, and each was mailed in an envelope I’d addressed myself. The big event was just days away. I essentially had my crown on order for the coming year at the junior high. It had been the best year anyone could ever recall, and everyone told me so. The Superintendent and School Board respected me and consulted with me. Teachers appreciated me. Parents depended on me.

And, then it happened.

I woke up one lovely, warm, and sunny day and couldn’t speak. I could barely swallow. I had an extreme case of strep throat. I went to bed perfectly well, and woke-up sicker than I could ever remember being. I hadn’t been exposed to strep, and no one I knew could think of anyone they knew with strep—it’s not a common disease in June. Yet, I was sick, nonetheless. Stuck in bed. Speechless, powerless, and all alone.

I knew almost instantly that this was an act of God.

For almost two weeks, I sat in bed silent. I couldn’t even whisper. I had to turn everything over to my co-president. She’d call with questions, and I’d write the answers down for Doug to tell her for me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And, I was not just speechless, I was sick. I had no strength, no will to get out of bed. The big event, the pièce de résistance I’d been planning for over a year, would go forward without me.

But, during that season of silence, God finally got me to stop and listen. And, He had one thing to tell me: “Come home.”

Within weeks, my husband’s was going to take a dramatic change. My purpose in his life was going to be turned upside down, and finally defined according biblical truth and not human tradition. I had no idea what was ahead of me, but God knew. And, He knew I was unprepared and ill-equipped. I had proudly and foolishly ignored His calls to repentance, awareness, and preparedness. I needed to be humbled, and I needed to come home in every way.

“Today, if you will hear His voice,
Do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion.” 
Hebrews 3:13-15 (NKJV)

God bless you all. ❤

The Hard Work of Being a Christian Wife

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

(I wrote this a long time ago, but never published it. Why? Well, that’s for another blog post. In any case, I’m publishing it today. And, I am publishing it without editing or second-guessing or yielding to my insecurities. So, typos and all, here it is for now. Maybe, one day I’ll come back and edit it and make it better.)

I sat down with a woman years ago. She had discovered that her husband was visiting prostitutes. She knew he had returned to drinking, but it was the prostitutes that had brought her to the point that she finally reached out for help.

That’s pretty typical. Wives will put up with a lot of bad behavior, even helping keep their husband’s secret sin a secret, until finally their husband just goes too far. Things get out of hand. “It was one thing when he would do XYZ, but now he’s not doing ABC and I think he might be doing LMNOP. I don’t know what’s going on. I just can’t take it anymore.“

Why Did She Take It At All?

So, back to my question: why do women put up with their husband’s bad behavior at all? Well, what I have heard from wives over and over is that they believe their only option is to endure: don’t complain, submit, hold your tongue. If they do a good enough job of suffering in silence, God will finally award them with a godly husband by whatever means necessary, including divorce. Mind you, they don’t know that’s what they believe; they would never confess that with their mouth. Yet, it’s true: too many women are believing that God is going to honor their passivity. God couldn’t possibly be expecting them to do something about their husband’s error or wrong inclinations. They believe thy just have to keep praying for God to help them endure.

That’s the first mistake Christian wives make. I don’t fault them, though. Most Christian women have not been spiritually equipped for marriage. I don’t know if that’s because it takes a lot of work to teach spiritual truths, or if it’s because – well, no. That’s why. Discipling humans is hard work, and churches just aren’t doing it. If a woman isn’t blessed to have a Titus 2 Woman in her life, she’s in trouble. Satan will be sure her ears are filled with every manner of secular humanist thought out there, counseling her right out of her marriage and her faith.

Is there a place for long-suffering? Absolutely! This is a fruit of the Holy Spirit’s work in our life. Just remember that long-suffering is patience, which in this scenario I think we can define as an evidence of our faith in God’s unfinished work. It is a spiritual condition. Instead of walking in patient faith in God, though, wives are white-knuckling their way through a little bit of Hell on Earth.

This is what I think happens to the godly wife full of every good intention towards her husband, whose faith is being worn down with his every transgression: she begins to tolerate his sin. Tolerance is easily mistaken for patience, aka long-suffering. We tolerate his coming home late; we tolerate his ignoring calls or texts; we tolerate his temper or offensive language. We tolerate his making place for boozing and using. We tolerate his unloving attitudes and behaviors. We tolerate his not attending family gatherings, or his skipping church, or his not serving God. Then, before we know it, sin has taken root and established itself in our husband’s life, and consequently in our marriage and family.

What’s A Christian Wife To Do?

Knowing your Christian husband is making wrong choices and not holding him accountable to the Word of God for those choices is the wrong kind of silence. That is not iron sharpening iron. That is not Galatians 6:2. It might make life easier for you in the moment, but in the long run that little transgression (it was just one drink, it was just one look, it was just one time, etc.) will lead him to the brink of spiritual death and your marriage and family to utter destruction.

For the record: a man who confesses Christ is Lord is a Christian. You should not be making allowances for any of the baggage (spiritual, emotional, or otherwise) that he brings with him to your marriage – or picks up after his, “I do.” There is no excuse for sin. Trauma or temperament or lifelong habits may be the cause of his struggle, but they are not to be accepted as a permission slip for sin. Unrepentant sin should have no place in a Christian’s life.

DON’T WRITE THE END OF HIS STORY

Yes, men have free will and they can choose to reject exhortation, accountability, or correction. However, we must not decide the end of his story. Who are we to determine God is done with him?

NO. As long as there is breath, there is hope. So, he’s rebellious to truth. Okay. That’s very bad! However, as a wife we still have a spiritual influence in our husband’s life. We exercise that influence in the spirit, through prayer and standing in the gap. We commit to intercede for him, because that’s what be a godly wife means. Through our tears, we call out to the Father for mercy. In our heartache, we believe by faith every promise of deliverance the Word has given. We cast off fear in the name of Jesus, and put on a garment of praise.

Thank God for God. Thank God for the Holy Spirit and His kind and loving ministry to our broken hearts. Thank God for tiny mustard-size seeds of faith that cannot be denied. Thank God for prophetic words received over the years, but never understood until that moment when we needed them, when the Holy Spirit suddenly opens our eyes to see that not only was He calling us to a deeper faith and great intimacy with Him, but that He had gone ahead, before we ever knew we would marry this man, and had made provision for the loving support and godly friendship we would need in this hard place. Just look around. Reach out to them.

For me, I didn’t think I could possibly take one more emotional hit, yet here was the Holy Spirit teaching me that in my place of greatest pain, it was still not about me. My marriage wasn’t about having a good husband, but about being a good wife. When it was the hardest, if I would yield my will to God’s and allow the Holy Spirit to use me as my husband’s help meet (a spiritual calling on every wife, FYI), He would meet me in that place and give me all I needed.

A Final Exhortations

Make your requests known to God. Think on those things that glorify God. Have faith for the unbelievable and impossible. Being a biblical wife to a spiritually high maintenance man is very hard. At times you feel crushed under the weight of that calling—and, I am convinced it is a calling. The unrepentant husband will tax you heavily, but remember that your prayers for him are for God to be Master, Lord, and Savior. He is willful and continue to reject the truth, but God is on your side. Make your requests known. Stop him, God! Convict him, Holy Spirit! Have mercy on him! Forgive him! Spare him! Save him!

Don’t stop praying. Ask the Holy Spirit how to pray for him! Pray in the Spirit over him. Reject whatsoever things are unlovely and untrue. Banish the lies of Satan from your mind and remember that Fear is a wicked spirit.

Read Philippians 4.

Forgive him. Again. And, again. There is so much spiritual power in forgiveness!

Love him. Be the hands of Christ whenever you touch him. Bless him that curses you. Do good to those that despitefully use you.

Speak truth out loud, because faith comes by hearing—you’re talking to yourself!

If you need prayer, but have no one else to go to, I will pray for you.

Remember, the Holy Spirit is your Comfort and your Help. Depend on Him. He will be there for you. When I had no one to confide in, no one who still had faith or hope for my husband, the Holy Spirit was there. Bless the Lord!

❤️

One Year

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

I pulled an all-nighter,

listening to IHOP-KC,

when I received a notification.

The BBC.

I stopped to check it.

Israel invaded.

Israel invaded?

Suddenly, everything changed.

The atmosphere was different.

I felt it in my spirit.

Time would be measured

Differently

Now.

What really mattered changed forever.

What was I reading,

seeing,

hearing?

It took me time to process

what I was seeing…

live footage from the invaders.

The captors.

The demons.

How could they do this?

Where was the IDF?

How did they get in?

Her face!

Noa’s face.

I watched her abduction

over and over.

How were they getting

away with this?

So many questions.

Yet,

in this year

we have seen

the miraculous

hand of God

intervene

again and again.

Incredible.

Impossible.

But, God.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.

🕊️

How Could This Happen?

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“Oh!”

She had just opened her phone to reply to a text.

“I only saw this now. I’m so sorry.” His voice doesn’t sound normal. She starts to reply to the message, as he calls out to her from the other room. “T was found unresponsive in his apartment!” Emotion is filling his voice.

Her first thought, the first words that come out of her mouth: “Is he okay? Where is he?” She is running down a mental checklist of what they will need to take with them to the hospital, but suddenly realizes what unresponsive means. Now, her mind is flooded. Thoughts race into her consciousness. The computer crashes. T is dead?

Reboot and reload and thoughts and images and words and sounds and so many memories fill up the screen. Tears explode. Questions. So many questions. Who wrote you? Who’s that? How do they know? What time did it happen? Do the girls know? Who are your writing? How could this happen?

“I should write J.”

Just then, J calls. Wanted to make sure they knew. too. He’s weeping. They’re all weeping. She begins to realize how many people are hurting right now—how many people his life touched. How could this happen?

The weight of grief falls so instantly. Grasping the size of this loss is impossible. There was no preparation for this, no opportunity to prepare for how bad it would feel. How could this happen?

God is on everyone’s mind. His sovereignty. His mercy. His kindness. God knows the worth of a life, the impact. The thoughts just keep coming. His first time at The Farm. The light in his eyes each time he mentions his girls. The tears that flow when he tells of God’s goodness. Or, when he mourns those who are still lost in their brokenness and sin. How could this happen?

Emails and text messages, carefully worded, fly away to the ones who will want to know. Their hearts are not prepared to be broken, and words cannot relieve the pain they are about to feel. All week long it’s, “Did you tell…? What about…? Does…know?”

Tears stop and start suddenly. Sleepless nights roll into one long state of unbelief. His best friend. How could this happen?

-cg

Please, click to read about Tom. He should be known and remembered.

John Stamos and a Bout of Nostalgia

/ SaxophoneWife / 2 Comments

Feeling a little nostalgic today, so I’m blogging old school style. Remember that kind of blogging? No one was trying to make money or get a book a deal. People were just connecting to people who shared something in common with them: they liked to put their thoughts and feelings into words. Eventually, you found yourself returning to the pages where you had a little more in common with a person, and then settled in with the people you decided you liked – and they liked you, too. It was a world of its own, and I’m glad I got to be a part of it. I’m glad I’m still connected with some of those blogging friends, and they’ve now become real friends. That’s pretty cool.

What’d I tell you. I’m feeling nostalgic. Everything has a little halo around it.

So, how did I find myself here? Well, it was kind of weird and unexpected. John Stamos has published a memoir, so he’s all over Instagram, pumping out lots of reels to promote himself. One of those reels fell into my feed, and I ended up looking at his posts.

Now, you have to understand something about John Stamos. He lived in my husband’s neighborhood. So, in my mind that associates him forever with Southern California, specifically the neighborhood where my husband grew-up. That means memories of the first time I met his folks, and we watched that weird John Irving movie with Robin Williams together. It means memories of the last time I saw Doug before Boston, and I really thought it was really the last time I’d ever see him.

It reminds me of the incredibly awkward Christmas evening the future in-laws spent with their future daughter-in-law, alone, when she gave them the stupidest gift in the history of future daughter-in-law gifts. It’s so embarrassing that I can’t even tell you.

It reminds me of the drive to their place from my apartment in Long Beach—that wonderful California Bungalow design is probably still my favorite. And, when I think about that apartment I think about Doug dropping me off and sitting outside talking. What did we talk about then?

That’s when we sat in his car so long I ran in and grabbed a blanket, because it got cold. No, of course, I didn’t invite him to come inside. Never even crossed my mind. It was too much fun to sit together in his dumb little car.

We fell in love in that dumb car. We fell in love over Rocko’s Broccoli-Cheese Soup. We fell in love over a cases of 20# paper and a Xerox 9500. We fell in love over slices from Pizzamania. We fell in love over long-distance phone calls between Boston and Long Beach. I did see him, again.

As I sit at my laptop here, looking around this spare room of ours, I see so much evidence of who we are today, and who were back then. He’s pretty focused: saxophones, keyboards, his laptop and recording gear, HopeMail envelopes everywhere. Shelves of Bibles and overheads and instrument stands stuck here and there. A slide whistle. And, I’m all over the place. Baskets, balloons, and bin. Art I wish I had more wall space to hang. Sewing. Baptismal robes. Stacks of letters from inmates I want to write back. Mementos. Craft supplies. Christmas gifts. Paper in so many forms. Surprises. NBF work. Bins of bins.

Anyway, as I was thinking about John Stamos and the way he talked about his marriage to his first wife, I got really sad. Apparently he had a lot of issues in their relationship and was very angry at her after the divorce. I watched two clips of him talking about her, and there’s this hurt still there. I guess he had to come up with a resolution to his feelings, though, so in the two different clips he blamed himself for not focusing more on his career during their marriage. He said that’s why the marriage failed. That’s a stupid answer. And, he looks uncomfortable saying it. It’s like, dude, you know you’re lying, and we know it, too. But, the truth slips out in between his twitching and grimacing: he was ready to have a family. He’d achieved as much fame as he needed, and wanted babies now. She, on the other hand, was a star on the rise. She didn’t want babies. She didn’t want to be a wife and mother, yet. He still resents her for that. I am forced to believe he actually really loved her. That made me sad. He’s married now to a little girl who gave me the son he should have had 30 years ago. He struggles to say that famous line people always say when they have regrets, but want to sound like they don’t: “It was all meant to be.”

Like cheese fries.

So, I look around at this room that I used to be ashamed of people seeing – so messy, right? I must be a flawed person. As Snoopy would say, “Blech.” Give me a break. I do a lot of stuff and I live in an 800-square-foot apartment. I love this room. It’s where I meet with God. My desk and chair and laptop work best together right in this spot. I love looking across the desk at my husband doing his thing. Wayfarers’ legit started in this room. It’s all good. It’s our life. It’s who we were 35 years ago amplified by time and God’s goodness. Did I mention the dried flowers? My mother-in-law’s knitting basket? This is what making a life looks like. It’s not messy: it’s full. It’s beautiful. It’s touched with the unexpected sticky note on the wall from a grandbaby. I Love You.

It’s a good life.
A life touched by God’s grace,
A life preserved by God’s mercy.

When I fell in love with Doug, I didn’t know what that would mean. John’s (I think we should be on a a first-name basis by this point) book is called, If You Would Have Told Me. Can’t we all say that about our lives? I mean, what is this life? What is this kind of goodness called? I know life could have taken other turns. There were so many times we could have disobeyed God. Well, I mean, there were so many times we did. I think God gave us just enough chances: infinite. Every day, twelves times a day, and twelve times more.

I’ve told Doug recently that I do believe there are some things that could have been better—gone better—if we’d obeyed sooner. It was not all meant to be, John. God didn’t require all that pain and sin and stress and whatever. We could have made better choices financially, when he was working a “real” job. We could have exercised more. We could have prayed so much more and turned off the TV a lot sooner and put away vain ambitions earlier. I would have gladly skipped all my nonsense years, when I let the Enemy get such a stronghold. So much vanity.

God hears those prayers, though. Those desperate prayers we cry out to Him, those prayer promises we make to Him—vows we can never keep, but sometimes we really mean them.

He looks down on us with mercy, too. He knows what we’re made of, where we came from, how strong (or weak) a stuff we’re made of, and He has compassion on us. I know He had compassion on me.

It was January, 1988. Doug’s grandfather had passed away and he had to go to Arizona for the funeral. It was just a few days, but it felt so long. No cell phones in those days, remember? No text messages, no photos on social media, no long-distance phone calls. And, we were just friends, of course. Co-workers. Hadn’t he just flirted shamelssly with what’s-her-name at the Christmas party, and bought his girlfriend a leather jacket? He didn’t call her as soon as he got back into town, though. “Can we meet at Pizzamania?” He was full of thoughts. Those shorts and his sneakers and his dad’s old button-down. His grandfather Marty was on his mind. He was struck by how much his faith was a part of his life. He admired it, but God had no place in his life. “Would you ever marry a man who didn’t believe in God?”

Well, he believed by the time he proposed. A little baby faith, but I sure wasn’t a faith giant. My faith was more about my religion in those days. I had “a few” things to learn—have to be kind to young dumb Caroline, after all. Can’t hold too many things against her, now that she’s old and decrepit. I mean, it took her long time to learn to pray and recognize the voice of the Holy Spirit and discover that spiritual accountability she had to her husband and that money wasn’t security but security was spiritual intimacy with God.

How did we get here? Was it something about John Stamos? Was it Sunday mornings at home, because we have church on Saturday evening? Was it remembering those days in sunny Southern California that led us to a crooked little house in Massachusetts? Was it thoughts of cups of coffee with my husband and maybe a fritter from down the street? Ah…that makes me remember Winchell’s.

Have nice day, everyone.
❤

P.S. Didn’t edit this. Refused. “Let the mistakes prove it’s real, ” she said with a wry smile.

That Is Not A Cat

/ SaxophoneWife / 2 Comments

If you were trying to teach someone to identify a cat, how would you do it?

Would you show them pictures of rabbits and aligators and dogs and whales and zebras and every other animal in creation and then tell them, “That is not a cat”?

or

Would you show them pictures of Maine Coons and Abyssianians and Himilayans and Manx and Persians and Russian Blues and Siamese and tell them, “This is a cat”?

The answer’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? If you want to teach someone to recognize a cat, you show them pictures of cats. You might give them a cat to touch, or take them someplace where they could watch cats. You might even flick on a video about cats for them to see, or give them a book about cats to read. Toy cats would help, too! The point is, to learn to recognize a cat, you study the real thing.

It’s the same with anything we are trying to learn. We don’t learn to play the saxophone, by learnig to play the trombone. We don’t learn to cook, by ordering take-away. We don’t learn the types of flowers in our garden, by studying what isn’t a flower.

When we study the authentic item, we recognize the inauthentic easily. Bank tellers now have high tech means for testing counterfeit money, but they used to learn to recognize the coutnerfeit by studying the authentic. They learned everything there was to learn about real money, so that the counterfeit would stand out a mile away.

THIS IS A CAT

We live in a time when false prophets, false religions, false doctrines, and false teachers are rampant. They have always been around, but their numbers are multiplying. Gaining an audience is easier than ever; so is earning a profit. And, just as God raises up His true servants, so does Satan. The Devil is very good at promoting his own, but he is even better at deceiving the seeker. Why, he’s been doing that since the Garden! Adam and Eve walked with God, yet they were deceived by that lying serpent.

Well, the protection we need from being deceived isn’t going to be found by acquainting ourselves with these lies and liars. There are videos on YouTube, blog posts everywhere, and articles and books enough to fill a library that are full of these false religions and false prophets and false teachers. And, there are just as many that tear them apart piece by piece, telling you how they are each wrong—according to whomever is doing the telling. One video title I just saw was something to the effect of “Different Kinds of Witchcraft Christians Need to Know!” No, thank you! I don’t need to know about witchcraft. I need to know more about Jesus!

If we claim to be Christ followers, than knowing Him more should be a pleasure. How do we get to know Him? By reading His Word. We need to know what the Bible says. We need to study the Word of God, so that when someone makes a false claim we’ll know immediately to turn a deaf ear to them. We have to become that kind of people, especially in the day in which we live. Studying the counterfeit won’t help us recognize the authentic. It is knowing God’s Word that will equip us.

Bear in mind: we don’t have to become biblical scholars. We don’t need to dissect the cat and discover what a cat liver looks like compared to a dog liver. However, we do have to open the book. Being in the Word daily—throughout the day—will cause it to become ingrained in us.

Psalm 119:105 says, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Could it be more clear? If you want to stay in the light of truth, if you do not want to stumble on this path you’re walking, know God’s Word.

❤

I Think About Saul A Lot

/ SaxophoneWife / 4 Comments

Then the Lord said to Samuel, “I am sorry that I ever made Saul king, for he has again refused to obey Me.” Samuel was so deeply moved when he heard what God was saying, that he cried to the Lord all night. (1 Samuel 15:10-11)

I wonder so much about why God condescended to the Isralites and allowed them a king. I wonder how God could say to Samuel that He regretted appointing Saul. Some might ask, “Didn’t God know Saul would turn away? How can He act like this was unexpected?” These are valid questions. I don’t know the answers, but I think about it and wonder.

And, I wonder at Samuel’s grief. After hearing God’s regret, he cries out to God all night long. What is he crying out? I don’t know. Why is he so troubled by this?

The Bible says that in the morning Samuel went to Saul. Saul is in high spirits and he announces to Samuel that he has done as God has told him. To celebrate his achievement, he has already erected a monument to himself on Mount Carmel!

Now, God’s instructions to Saul were to completely destroy the Amelekites, a judgment for thier mistreatment of the children of Israel. Samuel told Saul that God said nothing was to survive. Every one and every thing was to be destroyed. However, Saul disobeyed God. He and his men kept whatever appealed to them—the best of the livestock, in particular. So, when Saul brags to Samuel that he did all God had required, Samuel says, “Oh, really? So, why do I hear all these bleating sheep and lowing oxen?” (See verse 14.) This is Saul’s reply:

“It’s true that the army spared the best of the sheep and oxen,” Saul admitted, “but they are going to sacrifice them to the Lord your God; and we have destroyed everything else.” (1 Samuel 15:15)

I don’t know about you, but that voice, that reply, sounds very familiar! It’s this idea that if we obey some of what God tells us, it’s good enough. And, if we can find any way at all to justify the part that was actually disobedience, we think God won’t notice or won’t mind. It’s like Adam and Eve explaining to God they were just covering up their nakedness. “See? We’re being good. Right, God? We didn’t want to be naked.” They hoped He wouldn’t notice the pile of apple* cores. Listen to Saul:

 “But I have obeyed the Lord,” Saul insisted. “I did what He told me to; and I brought King Agag but killed everyone else. And it was only when my troops demanded it that I let them keep the best of the sheep and oxen and loot to sacrifice to the Lord.” (1 Samuel 15:20-21)

We humans don’t change. Not from Adam to Saul, and not from Saul to Caroline. I mean, I get it. God’s expectation of absolute obedience feels a little intense. He’s expecting an awful lot of us! We are just dust, after all. Right?

No. God does not see us that way. He did not send Christ Jesus to die for dust. He did not choose a people, the people of Israel, to carry faith in Adonai into this world, because we are mere dust-lings. Do not forget that His divine breath of life animated that first man and first woman. He created us in His image. That He used dust, well, He made the dust! Of course, He did know we would fall. He knew we would fail. This is why He did send His only begotten Son, because He knew we would need the abundant grace and mercy that only can be found at the foot of the Cross. We are a dusty flesh enveloped around the eternal, a spirit that will abide forever. A flesh that will be tranformed in the twinkling of an eye into a glorified body!

Let’s get back to Saul. In the very next section, Samuel tells Saul that his offerings and sacrifices are nothing compared to his obedience. Can you imagine? He speaks of that disobedient heart in a way that makes an honest person shudder.

“For rebellion is as bad as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as bad as worshiping idols. And now because you have rejected the word of Jehovah, He has rejected you from being king.” (Verse 23)

Saul is devastated by this. He pleads and begs, but Samuel tells him it is too late. He lost it all, because of disobedience to a clear instruction from God. He tried to blame his men. He tried to say he did it for God Himself to be honored. God cannot be deceived or manipulated.

So, I think about Saul—his bloodlust for David; his calling forth the ghost of Samuel; his son, Jonathan; his spiritual demise—so much to think about Saul. So much to learn from his life. I am sad for how many Sauls I know.

If you are struggling to obey some instruction from the Lord—maybe, you rejected His word from the beginning; maybe, you think a partial obedience should be adequate; maybe, you say you’ll obey once this or that happens—it doesn’t matter what reason you may have, or what excuse you can conjure. Disobedience is rebellion against God. That stubborn will to have your way is a sin. You might take offense at being compared to a practioner of witchcraft or worshipper of idols, but the Word of God says it. Not me. If we don’t come into agreement with the Lord, my dear friend, we will lose that divine purpose He has given us. Does that mean a ministry calling, a talent that would bring you before world leaders, an opportunity to glorify God, the blessing of raising our family, our eternity in Heaven? I don’t know what divine purpose God has given you, but I know that it is worth much more than the cost of humbling yourself and repenting, and then obeying God without delay.

Please, turn away from disobedience. That is my sincere hope and prayer for you today.

❤

*No, we don’t know if the fruit was an apple. It’s just a proxy.
This post is for Blogtober Day 13: Politics.

Despair is a Round Trip

/ SaxophoneWife / 3 Comments

I was closing an email from Doug, the Saxophone Player, and my eye quickly glanced down at his signature.

This email came from his office at the jail, and I was just moved to tears seeing his title. You may not know my husband’s testimony**, but I can tell you that I did not marry a man fit to be a minister. I married a great guy, but he had some big problems. Those problems affected his family, and drove me to despair so many times I don’t need a map anymore.

Yet, in those places of hopelessness The Holy Spirit kept telling me to trust God. Sometimes, there would be this flash of a vision from an unknown future. I would see him speaking to a group of people, Bible in hand. Where did that come from?

I can’t get over what God has done in my husband’s life, and I hope I NEVER do! I hope I never forget what God has done, and that He is able to do far more than we can hope or imagine—if we will just keep trusting Him. That trust will most likely mean a few trips to despair for anyone daring enough to let God do things His way, but I promise it’s a round trip when we’re in His hands. It’s a round trip!

I did not marry a man worthy of his titles: Reverand, Pastor, Chaplain, Chief Executive Officer, President. He wasn’t worthy of the work the Lord has entrusted to his care, but God made him worthy. God persevered, and Doug surrendered.

If you know the way to Despair as well as I once did, please seek the Lord for help. Please, believe that He is able to help you in your circumstances, because what He does for one of His children*, He will do for any of them.

❤

*If you aren’t sure you are a child of God, don’t wait to find out. CLICK HERE.
** This is Doug’s Testimony. CLICK HERE

A Time for Disgust

/ SaxophoneWife / Leave a comment

This man, Attorney Michael Van Der Veen, really got my attention yesterday, the last day of President Trump’s second impeachment trial. I watched a few of his post-win interviews, and he was always humble. Low-key. Not gushing over his win, but disgusted by the blatant dishonesty in the hallowed halls of our Capitol. I think his disgust with the deceitful media and politicians is a tribute to his character.

Mr. Van Der Veen says his family has faced persecution, his home was threatened, he has suffered more insults than he can count, and his firm is under attack—all because he dared to defend an innocent man. It really begs the question: why? I am waiting for God Himself to answer that one.

Meanwhile, I keep watching for Justice to arise.

❤

If

/ SaxophoneWife / 3 Comments

I’d like to share a few quotes from Missionary Amy Carmichael‘s book entitled If. It is based on 1 Corinthians 13, often called the love chapter in the Bible.

If you aren’t familiar with Amy Carmichael (1867-1951), I encourage you to click on her name and read the very brief biography at that link. There really have been very few women like her.

“If I myself dominate myself,
if my thoughts revolve round myself,
if I am so occupied with myself I rarely
have a heart at leisure from itself,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.“

Amy Carmichael

“If the praise of others elates me
and their blame depresses me;
if I cannot rest under misunderstanding
without defending myself;
if I love to be loved more than to love,
to be served more than to serve,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.“

Amy Carmichael

“If I do not forget about such a trifle as personal success,
so that it never crosses my mind, or if it does,
is never given room there; if the cup of flattery tastes sweet to me,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.“

Amy Carmichael

“If my interest in the work of others is cool;
if I think in terms of my own special work;
if the burdens of others are not my burdens too,
and their joys mine,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.”

Amy Carmichael

“If souls can suffer alongside, and I hardly know it,
because the spirit of discernment is not in me,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.”

Amy Carmichael

I have been thinking lately how much I underestimate God’s expectations of me. When I consider the life this woman, how she served and sacrificed for Christ and others, I am horrified by my laziness, failure, and complacency. Do I know nothing of Calvary’s love? Lately, I wonder.

❤