“I’m exhausted,” a friend said, collapsing into a chair. She was considering cutting back on some of her activities.
“You can’t do everything,” I offered.
In no way was I preaching to her; I was simply repeating my own personal mantra: I can’t do it all.
The old anti-drug slogan, “Just say no!” is hard for me to apply to a worthy cause. My friend had the same problem. There are so many worthwhile activities that need our participation, not to mention all the work required to keep our homes up and running.
When my children were small, I read a wonderful little booklet titled, Tyranny of the Urgent. I learned that urgent tasks are not the same as important tasks. Urgent tasks may scream at me to be completed, but they are things that I wouldn’t mind having someone else do, like clean house, shampoo the carpet, or wash the car.
But important things are those that I would not let someone else do: read bedtime stories, make brownies for a family picnic, or care for a sick loved one.
The urgent can usually wait; the truly important cannot.
But what about all those important things outside my home that vie for my limited time? How do I choose?
Jesus told the parable of 10 young women who waited for a traditional wedding celebration to begin. They waited all night. Five were prepared with extra oil for their lamps, and five were not. When the call rang out at midnight, all ten got up, and the five without enough oil asked the others to share.
Jesus said the five with extra oil did not share with the others. Gently, but wisely, they said, “No.”
The point of the parable was to be prepared. But I believe the Lord was also trying to show us something about personal boundaries. Sometimes we have to say no rather than use up everything we have and then be caught short.
I believe that applies to our energy, time and emotional strength as well as oil.
Will the world come to a premature end if I don’t attend that workshop? Do I really need to serve on another committee? Will anyone care if my floor isn’t mopped today?
Psalm 16:5, 6 says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; … The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; …”
That portion and those boundary lines denote limits for our blessing and for our good. Life without limits can be dangerous.
So what do we do as Christians who want to do the right thing? Do we give up all our charitable efforts?
Absolutely not.
Instead, we pray about the demands and requests on our time, and ask God what His priorities are for our lives.
After we know for certain, we “just say no” to everything else. The Bible tells us to speak the truth in love. That would include a gentle “no” without impatience or hatefulness.
And finally, we must not let guilt rob us of our rest. The Lord tells us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt.11:28).
If you end up with an extra afternoon and “nothing” to do, spend some time outside enjoying the cooler weather and fall sunshine. Go for a walk, or just talk to the Lord, praising him for leading you in your decisions.
And be sure to thank him for helping you to “just say no.”
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
What Rocks Your World
It started with an antique tea canister in the kitchen and the tinny tune it played as it rattled back and forth.
Why was it moving?
Soon, other canisters joined in the song, then the cupboard doors, the framed pictures on a shelf, and a deep rumbling beneath my feet. Earthquake.
Within 20 minutes, two smaller temblors struck, shaking our hilltop home, reminding me that this world is on shaky footing at best. However, the hands that hold it are steady as a rock.
“The Lord is my rock,” wrote the Psalmist. “Who is the Rock, except our God?” (Psalm 18:2,31b).
It’s difficult to picture a rock as comforting, but frequently scripture uses the metaphor to help us understand a spiritual principle.
Isaiah wrote of “the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land” (Isaiah 32:2b) I can’t help but envision a treeless plain with no refuge in sight – until a weary soul stumbles upon a rock big enough to offer shade from a blazing sun or shelter from a blistering windstorm.
Again, the Psalmist wrote, “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:2b) That is exactly what I need when I am in need – something, Someone bigger than myself.
When Moses asked to see the glory of God, the Almighty said to him, “There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by (Ex. 33:21,22).
That’s where I want to be – a place near God where I can stand on a rock while He hides me with His hand. How grateful I am that He is that close, that He is the shade that protects me from the heat of oppression and the wind of torment.
Jesus is the Rock of my salvation. He is the sure foundation upon which I base my trust, my life, my hope. Whether earthquake or soul-quaking news, when my world is rocked, thank God He is the Rock that is higher than I.
Why was it moving?
Soon, other canisters joined in the song, then the cupboard doors, the framed pictures on a shelf, and a deep rumbling beneath my feet. Earthquake.
Within 20 minutes, two smaller temblors struck, shaking our hilltop home, reminding me that this world is on shaky footing at best. However, the hands that hold it are steady as a rock.
“The Lord is my rock,” wrote the Psalmist. “Who is the Rock, except our God?” (Psalm 18:2,31b).
It’s difficult to picture a rock as comforting, but frequently scripture uses the metaphor to help us understand a spiritual principle.
Isaiah wrote of “the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land” (Isaiah 32:2b) I can’t help but envision a treeless plain with no refuge in sight – until a weary soul stumbles upon a rock big enough to offer shade from a blazing sun or shelter from a blistering windstorm.
Again, the Psalmist wrote, “Lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:2b) That is exactly what I need when I am in need – something, Someone bigger than myself.
When Moses asked to see the glory of God, the Almighty said to him, “There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by (Ex. 33:21,22).
That’s where I want to be – a place near God where I can stand on a rock while He hides me with His hand. How grateful I am that He is that close, that He is the shade that protects me from the heat of oppression and the wind of torment.
Jesus is the Rock of my salvation. He is the sure foundation upon which I base my trust, my life, my hope. Whether earthquake or soul-quaking news, when my world is rocked, thank God He is the Rock that is higher than I.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Walking in the Light
When my husband and I were first married, we had a two-in-one flashlight. It was equipped with the standard high-beam light that shone from one end like most models, but it also had a softer, more radiant light that spread from a second bulb along the top.
One evening I took the flashlight outside for a trek to the barn. The standard beam lit the path ahead, punching through the dark toward my destination. I switched to the second light and it illuminated my steps and the area right around me, spreading into the shadows on either side. But I couldn’t have both lights on at the same time; I had to choose one or the other.
As I walked, the Psalmist’s prayer came to mind: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (Psalm 119:105). Suddenly, I understood the metaphor. God’s wisdom shows me the path ahead as well as the ground beneath my feet. But unlike my hand-held flashlight that required an either-or choice, His word sheds the light of understanding in both ways at the same time. His word is indeed a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.
The Psalmist also wrote, “You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light” (Psalm 18:28).
And that’s exactly what I need in life – a never-failing power source that faithfully shows me the way to go and how to get there. The Lord’s light cuts through my darkness, and the lamp of His love envelops me with the comfort of His presence.
One evening I took the flashlight outside for a trek to the barn. The standard beam lit the path ahead, punching through the dark toward my destination. I switched to the second light and it illuminated my steps and the area right around me, spreading into the shadows on either side. But I couldn’t have both lights on at the same time; I had to choose one or the other.
As I walked, the Psalmist’s prayer came to mind: “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (Psalm 119:105). Suddenly, I understood the metaphor. God’s wisdom shows me the path ahead as well as the ground beneath my feet. But unlike my hand-held flashlight that required an either-or choice, His word sheds the light of understanding in both ways at the same time. His word is indeed a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.
The Psalmist also wrote, “You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light” (Psalm 18:28).
And that’s exactly what I need in life – a never-failing power source that faithfully shows me the way to go and how to get there. The Lord’s light cuts through my darkness, and the lamp of His love envelops me with the comfort of His presence.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Grandparents Day
Tomorrow is Grandparents Day. Mine are long since gone, but I’ve taken their place. And it’s still a wonder to me when I recognize one of my children peeking out through the eyes of their offspring.
As a teacher, I meet a lot of grandparents, those who have picked up where their sons and daughters left off. Sometimes the family has fallen apart, and one young parent is in jail, in hiding or incapacitated. Often, grandparents help out with babysitting when both parents must work to meet financial responsibilities.
And sometimes they are just interested. They like being involved in the extended lives of their children and grandchildren.
I know of a boy named Tim who had a grandmother like that. She helped steer him into the right path when he was a youngster, and taught him that God was faithful and could be trusted.
Tim never forgot her words, and he grew up to be a leader among men and the close companion of a mighty man of God. The Apostle Paul encouraged young Timothy, writing, “I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice” (2 Timothy 1:5 NIV).
As a grandparent, you never know what influence you may have on a child – even those not of your family. Your patience, your joy, and your faith can stabilize a young life and point to the Savior.
It’s never too late to begin, for “today is the day of salvation,” not yesterday or tomorrow. Ask God to show you how to share His love with the little ones around you – even if they’ve grown up and have little ones of their own.
As a teacher, I meet a lot of grandparents, those who have picked up where their sons and daughters left off. Sometimes the family has fallen apart, and one young parent is in jail, in hiding or incapacitated. Often, grandparents help out with babysitting when both parents must work to meet financial responsibilities.
And sometimes they are just interested. They like being involved in the extended lives of their children and grandchildren.
I know of a boy named Tim who had a grandmother like that. She helped steer him into the right path when he was a youngster, and taught him that God was faithful and could be trusted.
Tim never forgot her words, and he grew up to be a leader among men and the close companion of a mighty man of God. The Apostle Paul encouraged young Timothy, writing, “I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice” (2 Timothy 1:5 NIV).
As a grandparent, you never know what influence you may have on a child – even those not of your family. Your patience, your joy, and your faith can stabilize a young life and point to the Savior.
It’s never too late to begin, for “today is the day of salvation,” not yesterday or tomorrow. Ask God to show you how to share His love with the little ones around you – even if they’ve grown up and have little ones of their own.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Where Are You Looking?
Rodeo again? you ask. Absolutely. How can I resist the irony of a bull rider landing face first in the arena dirt as an announcer yells, “Where you look is where you go!”
Following your eyes is a pile-driving concept well known to those who wrap their courage, rope and legs around a bucking Brahma crossbred for eight seconds.
But a first century fisherman knew it too.
As one who rode the waves of the Middle East Sea of Galilee, Peter was likely the equivalent of a modern rodeo cowboy. He met life head on, wore blisters on his hands and creases into his face. And then he met the Tempest Tamer.
While drifting on a familiar but stormy sea, Peter watched that man walk across the water toward his boat. “If it’s really you, call me to you,” he yelled at what his companions believed to be an apparition.
“Come.”
Peter climbed over the edge, locked his eyes on the one who called, and stepped onto the water. No one else had the courage to even try it, much less get out of the boat. Imagine defying the laws of nature and walking on the roiling, dark sea known so well to those whose living was found beneath it.
And then Peter looked away.
He looked away from the one who called him and gazed into the crashing waves. Fear sucked him down into what he beheld, and but for the outstretched hand of the Water Walker, Peter would have drowned in that fear.
Can we relate to that? We who neither ride bulls nor fish for a living? Might we know what it feels like to glance toward our fear and fall into the choking waves of loneliness, abandonment, or depression?
The Water Walker still walks today. He who tamed the tempest calms the storms of our heart. “Come to me, all you who are weary,” he says. “I will never leave you or forsake you.”
Set your heart on Him. Lock your eyes and your hopes on Jesus. He will lift you with his outstretched hands, and never let you down.
Matthew 14:22-33
Think about it: Did Jesus carry Peter back to the boat, or did they walk back together?
Following your eyes is a pile-driving concept well known to those who wrap their courage, rope and legs around a bucking Brahma crossbred for eight seconds.
But a first century fisherman knew it too.
As one who rode the waves of the Middle East Sea of Galilee, Peter was likely the equivalent of a modern rodeo cowboy. He met life head on, wore blisters on his hands and creases into his face. And then he met the Tempest Tamer.
While drifting on a familiar but stormy sea, Peter watched that man walk across the water toward his boat. “If it’s really you, call me to you,” he yelled at what his companions believed to be an apparition.
“Come.”
Peter climbed over the edge, locked his eyes on the one who called, and stepped onto the water. No one else had the courage to even try it, much less get out of the boat. Imagine defying the laws of nature and walking on the roiling, dark sea known so well to those whose living was found beneath it.
And then Peter looked away.
He looked away from the one who called him and gazed into the crashing waves. Fear sucked him down into what he beheld, and but for the outstretched hand of the Water Walker, Peter would have drowned in that fear.
Can we relate to that? We who neither ride bulls nor fish for a living? Might we know what it feels like to glance toward our fear and fall into the choking waves of loneliness, abandonment, or depression?
The Water Walker still walks today. He who tamed the tempest calms the storms of our heart. “Come to me, all you who are weary,” he says. “I will never leave you or forsake you.”
Set your heart on Him. Lock your eyes and your hopes on Jesus. He will lift you with his outstretched hands, and never let you down.
Matthew 14:22-33
Think about it: Did Jesus carry Peter back to the boat, or did they walk back together?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Mom Arms
I have Mom Arms. You know – those upper limbs that come complete with built-in bat wings. I’m beginning to understand why my mother never wore sleeveless shirts in public.
As a writer, I do more heavy sitting than heavy lifting and my biceps and triceps have atrophied. Not the skin surrounding them, however.
I know exercise is important for a balanced life, but I detest going to the gym. I just can’t bring myself to drive 17 miles to town so I can work up a sweat in a big former Safeway supermarket with people I don’t know, slinging dead weight around and trying to hold my stomach in at the same time.
So I walk. Most mornings before sunrise, I tramp out a two-mile hike down the road and back again. But that doesn’t help my arms.
This morning My Son The Body-Builder put together a home-front workout regimen for me based on his own weight-lifting exercises. Since I don’t have to attach 100-pound weights to my lifting, a gallon of water or a loaded laundry basket will do just fine, he said.
“Resistance is what you want,” he explained. Demonstrating with a long rubber jump rope I bought years ago from Avon, he stood on the band, a handle from each end in each hand, and effortlessly stretched his arms above his head.
“Keep your elbows close to your head, and push slowly upward.”
I‘m good at slowly. I barely moved, so he showed me how to reduce the resistance for now and how to increase it later as my strength grows.
I don’t enjoy this resistance-pressure thing, but I know what little strength I have left will fade even more if I don’t do it. God knows it too, and He uses the human body as a great object lesson for the human spirit.
“You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors,” says The Message. “Don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way” (James 1:2-4)
Well-developed: that’s how I want my Mom Arms to look. I guess it’s going to take a little workout.
As a writer, I do more heavy sitting than heavy lifting and my biceps and triceps have atrophied. Not the skin surrounding them, however.
I know exercise is important for a balanced life, but I detest going to the gym. I just can’t bring myself to drive 17 miles to town so I can work up a sweat in a big former Safeway supermarket with people I don’t know, slinging dead weight around and trying to hold my stomach in at the same time.
So I walk. Most mornings before sunrise, I tramp out a two-mile hike down the road and back again. But that doesn’t help my arms.
This morning My Son The Body-Builder put together a home-front workout regimen for me based on his own weight-lifting exercises. Since I don’t have to attach 100-pound weights to my lifting, a gallon of water or a loaded laundry basket will do just fine, he said.
“Resistance is what you want,” he explained. Demonstrating with a long rubber jump rope I bought years ago from Avon, he stood on the band, a handle from each end in each hand, and effortlessly stretched his arms above his head.
“Keep your elbows close to your head, and push slowly upward.”
I‘m good at slowly. I barely moved, so he showed me how to reduce the resistance for now and how to increase it later as my strength grows.
I don’t enjoy this resistance-pressure thing, but I know what little strength I have left will fade even more if I don’t do it. God knows it too, and He uses the human body as a great object lesson for the human spirit.
“You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors,” says The Message. “Don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way” (James 1:2-4)
Well-developed: that’s how I want my Mom Arms to look. I guess it’s going to take a little workout.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
R.O.D.E.O.
What’s RODEO got to do with the Faith Walk?
Plenty.
When my husband was a rodeo clown and bullfighter, faith was the main course for every meal. Along with extra helpings of prayer and trust.
During those exciting years of crisscrossing the country from one rodeo arena to the next, we had faith that God was taking care of us as we traveled and worked. We prayed for His protection over our children, our vehicle, our animals and ourselves. And we trusted that He would lead us in the direction of His choosing.
A rodeo bullfighter is a great metaphor for Christ: he puts his life on the line to rescue the bull rider from certain injury or death. He is the “savior” who pulls the rider’s hand free from a twisted rope, or throws himself between a fallen cowboy and a charging bull.
“It’s my job,” my husband Mike once told a grateful rider who nearly had his bell rung.
“But there’s someone else who’s done a whole lot more for you,” Mike continued. “Jesus died to save you and give you eternal life.”
Today we no longer rodeo, so what could it possibly have to do with our life when there’s no more bullfighting, no more arenas, no more all-night, red-eye drives from one state to another?
Everything.
Rodeo reminds me how to face the bucking, twisting circumstances that often charge into my otherwise orderly life. Rodeo reminds me that I’m not in control, but God is. And rodeo helps me keep my concentration where it needs to be:
Rely
On
Divine
Energy
Only
Putting my faith in God means trusting Him to give me the strength I need.
So, saddle up!
II Corin. 4:8,9
www.davalynnspencer.com
Plenty.
When my husband was a rodeo clown and bullfighter, faith was the main course for every meal. Along with extra helpings of prayer and trust.
During those exciting years of crisscrossing the country from one rodeo arena to the next, we had faith that God was taking care of us as we traveled and worked. We prayed for His protection over our children, our vehicle, our animals and ourselves. And we trusted that He would lead us in the direction of His choosing.
A rodeo bullfighter is a great metaphor for Christ: he puts his life on the line to rescue the bull rider from certain injury or death. He is the “savior” who pulls the rider’s hand free from a twisted rope, or throws himself between a fallen cowboy and a charging bull.
“It’s my job,” my husband Mike once told a grateful rider who nearly had his bell rung.
“But there’s someone else who’s done a whole lot more for you,” Mike continued. “Jesus died to save you and give you eternal life.”
Today we no longer rodeo, so what could it possibly have to do with our life when there’s no more bullfighting, no more arenas, no more all-night, red-eye drives from one state to another?
Everything.
Rodeo reminds me how to face the bucking, twisting circumstances that often charge into my otherwise orderly life. Rodeo reminds me that I’m not in control, but God is. And rodeo helps me keep my concentration where it needs to be:
Rely
On
Divine
Energy
Only
Putting my faith in God means trusting Him to give me the strength I need.
So, saddle up!
II Corin. 4:8,9
www.davalynnspencer.com
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