Please, bug me.

Some people don’t want to be bothered. God is not one of them.

Jesus told his followers of a man who banged on his neighbor’s door in the middle of the night because he needed extra food for an unexpected guest. The neighbor said, “Go away. It’s late, everyone’s in bed, I’m not getting up.” But he did. He got up and gave the man what he needed.

Why? Not because he liked the guy, but because he kept banging on the door.

Do we pray like that? Do we go to God and pound on the door until we get an answer? Jesus said we should. He told us to ask, seek, and knock.

Jesus didn’t speak English, so I don’t think He lined the words up like that so they’d spell out a neat little acrostic. I believe He was showing us three levels of communication—and commitment.

When I worked as a reporter for a mid-size daily newspaper, I used these levels nearly every day.

“Is flagpole one word or two?” I could shoot out a question in the newsroom while sitting at my desk, and hear someone throw back an answer. Asking required very little effort.

Seeking took a little more work. I had to stop what I was doing, pick up the Associated Press Stylebook and look up the answer. It meant searching, hunting, discerning, discovering.

Knocking involved total commitment. If I wanted to see the chief editor or general manager, I had to get out of my chair, go to his office and knock on the door. That was the only way to talk to one of them face to face to get my answer, find direction, lodge a complaint, or pick up an assignment. It took the most effort.

So what kind of prayers do we pray? How much effort do we put into talking to God? Yes, the Lord knows the very thoughts of our hearts, unlike the editor or general manager. But I believe Jesus gave us a bit of vital information when He said to ask, seek and knock.

How badly do we want to hear from God?

Are we pounding on the door?

Luke 11

Catching Up in the World of Not

I just bought a Nook. I used to think they came with a Cranny, but this one didn’t.

It took one entire afternoon to get the thing powered up, set up, registered, online and everything else because I come from a different world. In my world, people watch TV on their television, not their telephones. They listen to music on stereos not earplugs. But I’m learning: I’m now reading via something that is Not a bOOK.

The most unsettling thing about my Not bOOK is the touch screen. Of course there’s not actually anything on it to touch, and after being told all my childhood years to keep my fingers off the television screen and the windows and the mirrors, I feel like I’m breaking some kind of universal law by touching it in the first place.

It depends, however, on what part I touch. Not that I can feel what I’m touching, like keys on a keyboard or a piano. It’s more like pointing than touching. I point my finger at an icon—a word that used to mean little statues in grottoes—and voila! the screen changes. Touch it for too long, like say, a second or more, and it changes again into something I didn’t want. I aim for nano second—that moment in time that is Not a second.

Another Not with a Not bOOK is the page. They’re called pages but it takes more than one screen’s worth to hold all the words on what was once a page, so when I “turn” one by barely touching the edge of the screen, I may get two or three screens before the used-to-be page number actually changes. So they’re not really pages on my new Not bOOK. Not that I care, mind you.

In a way, it’s fun playing catch-up in the Not world. What I need now is Nice-cream: dessert that does Not have sugar, fat or calories.

F.R.E.T. part 3: Suicide by Stubbornness

In this final installment on what it means to fret, resentment and envy take center stage. These two were the core of my personal acrostic, bookended nicely by fear and turmoil (see two previous posts).

In those dark days of depression I turned to the book of Job because I wanted to read about someone else who felt beat up, someone with whom I could relate. I was stunned to find my R and E falling from the lips of Job’s friend.

“Resentment kills a fool and envy slays the simple” (Job 5:2 NIV).

The very things I had been clutching were killing me. Suicide by stubbornness?

When I resent someone who has not lived up to my expectations, or resent an unforeseen situation that alters my plans, I fill up a place in my heart with poison. When I envy others who have succeeded at that to which I aspire, I add bile to the mix: a deadly concoction.

Confession broke the vials of resentment and envy; brokenness was the big break I needed.

Do not fret. Do not fear, resent or envy, for turmoil results. It’s a simple directive not easily carried out unless I follow His instructions. And I find them in Psalm 37 where this whole fretful journey began for me. It tells me over and over that God is with me in this struggle, and it tells me what to do. How can I have time—or space in my heart—to fret if I am trusting, doing, delighting, committing, listening and waiting for Him?

For me as a writer, it is a war of words and the battlefield is the mind.

Norman Vincent Peale said, “Change your thoughts and you change your world.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The ancestor of every action is a thought.”

A hard-nosed Jewish lawyer waylaid by the living God said, “… we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (II Corin. 10:5 NIV). That’s the winning catch phrase for me. Because of Jesus and His power, I’m no longer a prisoner fretting my life away. When I fix my mind on Christ, and remind myself what He has said and what He has done, I find freedom.

Thank God, I don’t have to fret.

Fear

In my personal acrostic of the word “fret,” fear was the first and most obvious element. It took up most of the room, so I had to push it out, make a conscious effort to get rid of it—something I could not do on my own. Of course that realization led to more fear, so I turned and ran straight to God’s word.

The breed of fear I battled was not the kind we read about when we’re told to fear the Lord. And we shouldn’t be surprised to find two different meanings, just as we do when we say we love our spouse and we love lasagna. Not the same thing.

I found wonderful things in the Bible about fear: “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and sound mind” (I Tim. 1:7); “Perfect love casts out fear” (I John 4:18); “I sought the Lord, and … he delivered me from all my fears” (Ps. 34:4). These tell me God didn’t send the fear, His love will chase it off, and He’ll snatch me from its clutches.

I also read a fabulous novel by J.M. Windle titled Betrayed. I highly recommend it. In the book, the main character hears the biblical story of Sarah and how her husband’s fear landed her in a harem. The character learns that God rescued Sarah, and that she can be like Sarah if she will “do what is right and do(es) not give way to fear” (I Peter 3:6). I won’t say more because it’s a great read and I don’t want to spoil it for you, but did you notice the “do” and “do not”?

The “do” part fills in the vacuum of the “do not.” Psalm 37—where I first discovered “fret”—is full of “do’s.” Trust in the Lord and do good. Dwell, enjoy, delight, commit, be still, wait, refrain—all this in just the first eight verses.

Fear is a paralyzing poison that immobilizes us into doing nothing. Why do you suppose the big cats roar? The intimidation tactic turns their targeted prey into hotdog-on-a-stick.

Franklin D. Roosevelt said we have nothing to fear but fear itself. He may have been thinking of Psalm 34:4. John Wayne said courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway. Sounds like the first eight verses of Psalm 37.

But Jesus said, Don't be afraid, I'm here.*

In the middle of the night when all I see is darkness and all I hear is the beating of my own heart, what Jesus said wins out over the platitudes of men who once lived.

When I need help, give me the words of the God-man who still lives—the One who will back them up with His presence.




*Mark 6:50; Matt. 14:27; Matt. 28:20

Don’t worry. Chill. Relax.

The singing King of Israel tells us three times in the 37th Psalm, “Do not fret.” He’s not suggesting we shouldn’t play the guitar—he’s talking about an attitude of the heart and mind.

“Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong … do not fret when men succeed in their ways … do not fret—it leads only to evil” (Psalm 37:1, 7, 8 NIV).

That is exactly the kind of teaching I need: clearly repetitious.

Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines the word fret: to cause to suffer emotional strain: VEX. The Hebrew language defines the word with more sensory detail: to glow or grow warm; to blaze up, burn.

The dictionary definition summons images of Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. The Hebrew version sounds more like me.

The “frets” of this Psalm crystalized for me one day when I went openly to the Lord and confessed my sin. My journal entry that morning read, “I have three bed fellows: fear, resentment, and envy.”

The confession had a cleansing effect, as if the Lord had said to me, “Come clean.” When I did, release began.

Further journal entries examined the objects of my fear, resentment and envy, and as I wrote—a process akin to prayer for me—the recorded words of Jesus spoke in my heart:

“The truth will set you free.”

Only then did I see that the ancient acrostic poem in Psalm 37 had become an acrostic for me: Fear, Resentment, Envy—the first three letters of the word fret. So where was the T?

“Torment” was a possibility, considering the way I felt. But I found what I was looking for in the book of Job, the last two verses of the third chapter:

“What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”

That was the word—turmoil. Turmoil and peace cannot coexist in one’s spirit. Turmoil and quietness do not walk hand in hand. Turmoil does not allude to the restful presence of God.

Turmoil roiled in my heart.

If you know what it’s like to heave on the waves of turmoil, join me over the next several weeks and dig deeper into what it means to FRET—and what it doesn’t mean.

What Are You Neglecting?

If you Google “intentional neglect” you’ll find an array of complex information and discouraging news. It’s not light reading.

However, that phrase lodged in my mind several weeks ago when our pastor encouraged his Sunday-evening congregation to intentionally neglect those things that keep them from their goals and purposes.

He was not talking about neglecting people or responsibilities, but activities that grab hold of our attention and devour our time. Email. Television. Computer games, and other misplaced priorities that aren’t necessarily bad.

He shared the story of a violinist who felt compelled to complete all her household chores before practicing. Her compulsion to clean took precedence over development of her gift. She finally realized that she would never become a virtuoso until she put her gift first.

Though I am not a violinist, I can relate with this woman’s compulsive behavior for tying up loose ends. As I work at my writing, stealing hours and minutes throughout a busy day, I am constantly tempted by uncompleted chores around me—things that should be done.

The “shoulds” are deadly.

In personal application, intentional neglect means that I do only one household chore per day when I am under deadline, check only important email, and click off the Internet before I’m tempted to read the latest headline, gossip or gadget report.

Our pastor biblically encouraged us through Nehemiah 6, a chapter which outlines the distractions Nehemiah faced when trying to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem in the 400s BC. He had many detractors, yet he maintained his focus. How?

“But I prayed.”*

Nehemiah’s constant contact with the Lord kept him on target. He knew he was called, he knew his purpose, and he knew the source of his strength.
We have this same access to the God of creation, repair, and redemption. Do we use it?

We all neglect something because it is impossible to do everything. The question is, are we neglecting the right things?

*(Neh. 6:9b NIV)



Thank you, Pastor Brian Withrow.

You Never Know

It’s a puny planet, a wee world.

A limited venue.

Okay, okay—so much for trying to avoid the “small world” cliché. But it is so true.

We meet unexpected people in the most unexpected places. Coincidence? Hardly.

As in my recent acquaintance with a deceptively soft-spoken woman named Joy.

I say deceptively soft-spoken because she is a warrior. As author of the book Identifying the Hierarchy of Satan: A Handbook for Wrestling to Win! Joy A. Schneider is not to be underestimated.

Joy was one of my roommates at the Colorado Christian Writer’s Conference in Estes Park last month. I was there hoping to interest an agent or publisher in my proposed devotional book, Sometimes Life’s a Rodeo. In the process, I learned more about how rodeo has impacted people who have nothing to do with the cowboy world.

Like Joy.

One Sunday morning 35 years ago, Joy turned on a televised broadcast from Calvary Chapel in Denver, Colorado and heard the testimony of a man with a painted face, baggy pants, striped shirt and red suspenders. No, he was not the preacher, nor was he with the circus. He was rodeo clown Wilbur Plaugher, co-founder of the Cowboy Chapter of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, today known as the Fellowship of Christian Cowboys.

Joy trusted Christ as her savior that morning, right there in front of the television set and the rodeo clown. She has not been the same since.

So you see, you never know. You never know who may be listening to your life on this spinning speck, weighing your words and changing their course.

Regardless of how heavy your makeup and mismatched your clothes.


For more information on the Fellowship of Christian Cowboys, see http://www.christiancowboys.com/