Seek My Face

I am deathly afraid of spiders. (Please don’t use this information against me!) When my daughter was about 2 or 3 years old, she found a granddaddy long-leg on the back porch. She caught that wretched creature by its spindly leg and came to show me! I tried to act nonchalant, but Savannah had mastered my face. She and I had had lots of face-to-face interaction, and she could pick up on my feelings effortlessly. (She still can.) An evil look crossed her baby face, and before she could carry out her wicked plan, thank the Lord, her daddy intervened. There would be other times too when she would study my face to see if I was nervous or afraid.

When we seek someone’s face, we might ask them to stop and look at us. We want their undivided attention. We connect with them by hearing them and being heard by them. We study their eyes, facial expressions, and body language. This intense exchange is usually with someone we love deeply.

Now imagine doing that with the King of kings and LORD of lords! God Almighty wants us to seek His face! To search His face. You might wonder how that is possible since God is invisible. Through prayer and Bible reading our spirit connects with His Spirit. It’s a longing and seeking to know Him, to hear His voice. We search for the tiniest clues that inform us about His character or what He might be thinking or what He might do. We analyze His Words like a letter from a new love interest.

Pause and consider these beautiful verses:

Psalm 27:4-9, “One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.  Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the Lord.  Hear my voice when I call, Lord; be merciful to me and answer me.  My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face!’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.  Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper.”

Do you want blessing from the Lord? Of course! Do you want Him to fight your battles? Yes! (I have personally experienced both of these, haven’t you?!) Then,

Psalm 24:5-6, “They will receive blessing from the Lord and vindication from God their Savior.  Such is the generation of those who seek him, who seek your face, God of Jacob.”

I am learning to pray Scripture, so I pray this passage from Numbers 6:24-26 over you, dear reader:

“May the LORD bless you and keep you; may He make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; may He turn His face toward you and give you peace.”

joyce hague

The Body at Work

Last time we had communion at Grace, I observed a small incident that immediately took my mind back nine years.

All the bread portions had been passed to members of the congregation, and the deacons were standing at the front with bowed heads while someone prayed. After the prayer, all sat down except one, who still stood with head bowed. A brother deacon gently tweaked this man’s pants leg, and he hurriedly had a seat. It was a lovely moment in my eyes—just one person helping another in the everyday ups and downs of life.

So I looked up a post from a long-ago September. I hope you won’t mind that I’m using the story again, but the lesson is still an important one. I decided to eliminate some names to keep the story relevant.

(September 20, 2010) On a recent Sunday morning at Grace, we experienced one of those delightfully unplanned but memorable moments. It was just a little accident that was quickly cleaned up, but it provided an object lesson that I keep thinking about.

One of our men had gotten up to make an announcement about a Wednesday evening class. In his excitement, he knocked over the cup of water that sits on the podium for the pastor to sip when he gets a dry throat or a tickle during the sermon. Everyone laughed, the speaker sat down, and to a casual observer, that might have been the end of the story. However, during the prayer that followed, I opened my eyes and raised my head just enough to see one of the ushers with a handful of paper towels swabbing the carpet and wiping down the side of the podium. After prayer, while the offering plates were passed, someone delivered a fresh cup of water to the pastor, who set it back in its now dry place. 

Don't you love it?! This is the way the body of Christ is supposed to work. Each person does his or her part, and the service continues. No one asks for special recognition or praise, but just does what needs to be done. It's the same thing that happens when a family works around and beside one another to cook a meal or when a group of athletes operates as if they shared a brain in their several bodies. The experience is sweet harmony and the results are delicious or victorious, as the case may be. 

On that Sunday morning, Pastor Euler mentioned the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. He remarked that the problem in "one little place" had disrupted the whole ecosystem of the gulf. It was a passing remark in a discussion about a different topic, but it fit right in with the water spill in my mind and illustrated for me how badly things go awry when some part of the system isn't working correctly. 

The apostle Paul has a lot to say about the body of Christ. In First Corinthians 12, he reminds Christians that we each have a role to fulfill. "For as the body is one, and has many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body: so also is Christ." I so enjoy being part of the body of Christ on earth, and especially love the body at Grace. I want to remember to do my part so that everything works as it should. Let us pray for one another and look for ways to "care one for another" in the body.

--Sherry Poff

There's No Substance Here

Some years ago, I witnessed a conversation that changed my perspectives on conversation – as well as on thoughts, reasoning and fairness. A man in a position of authority, we’ll call him Mr. A, was required to investigate a rather vague accusation brought by Mr. B against Mr. C. He knew Mr. B to be a troublemaker, but, nevertheless, was required to follow up. While questioning Mr. C, Mr. A realized that the implied offense could not have taken place. Upon that realization, he dropped the investigation with the observation, “He didn’t make any specific charge. There’s no substance here.”

“No substance here.” An accusation was made, implying wrong-doing and disparaging a man’s character. It sounded serious. Yet, there were no facts or evidence offered, only emotionally-charged words.

It’s easy to engage in name-calling without explaining the reason. “S/he’s a jerk, a gossip, a slacker, a cheat, a liar, a lousy friend.” Name-calling is not merely the province of children; adults freely and without shame engage in it publicly.

It’s easy to make accusations that seem terrible, without actually naming any offense. “She abused me.” What was the abuse – name calling, slander, physical attack, demanding too much work, not delivering your cheeseburger and fries on time? Never mind; the accusation has been made and the accused is a bad person. “He made me look bad.” To whom? By lying? By telling the truth? By doing well? Never mind; the accusation has been made and the implied criticism stands. “Yes, I did it, but it was her fault.” She actually caused your behavior? Or you reacted to her with anger, vanity, or revenge in mind? Never mind, the blame has been laid.

Making an accusation or calling a name without naming an actual offense is a form of dishonesty. God feels pretty strongly about “empty words” and the accompanying dishonesty. “Let no one deceive you with empty words, for it is because of these things that the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience.” Eph. 5:6.

Just by our human nature, it’s easy to fall into a “default mode” of criticizing everything and everyone. The world around us is daily pouring over us a deluge of dishonest criticism without substance; it is too easy to follow along, to agree, to repeat and, internally, to despair.

We who are Christ-followers would never do such a thing. Except maybe in a private conversation. Or on Facebook. Or to the news media. Or to the resident authority, whether boss, pastor, parent, personnel director or teacher.

Colossians 4:5,6 says, “Conduct yourselves wisely toward outsiders, making the most of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer every one.” (ESV) “Be wise in your behavior towards non-Christians and make the best possible use of your time. Speak pleasantly to them, but never sentimentally, and learn to give a proper answer to every questioner.” (Phillips translation)

If we wish to speak on issues of the day or merely comment on someone’s ideas or behavior, let us be honest and straightforward. Kind, specific and encouraging speech should characterize every one of us. The word used is “always.” If the world is to know we are Christians by the love we have for one another, our words are certainly a large part of that. If we can encourage non-believers toward Christ, also requiring love, we must have “substance” in our words. When we hear accusations or religious claims or political speech or accounts of events from others, we need to ask ourselves, “Is there any substance here?” and reject those if the answer is “No.”

The best way to put “substance” into our words is to speak the precepts of Scripture. Some of those are positive and some are negative, but all have substance. God does not waste His time or ours on empty words. If we would be beautiful representatives of the Beautiful One, we need to make sure our own conversation is like that of Him Who said, “The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” Jn. 6:63

--Lynda Shenefield

The Illusion of Control

We humans give ourselves much more sovereignty in running our lives than we actually have. We work hard and save money to avoid a financial crisis down the road. We eat healthy and exercise to live long lives. We research everything from sleep-training to different types of education to give our kids the best future possible. But what happens when the unexpected takes place despite doing everything right? The long months without a job. The health diagnosis. The child who wanders away. Maybe we realize that we never had control in the first place.  It was all an illusion.

Since my husband and I heard the word ‘cancer’ on May 7, the Lord has graciously been plowing the ground of my heart, uprooting that which was looking to self and not to Him. The greatest and hardest of the uprooting has been in the area of worrying. This has been a struggle for me since childhood. There have been seasons in which worry was not intense, but then there have also been seasons in which I have been plagued by fears. Leading up to my husband’s cancer diagnosis I was in a very intense period of the latter. The finding of multiple malignant tumors in the muscle tissue of Kelly’s stomach obviously magnified this exponentially.

One afternoon amidst fearful thoughts concerning all the unknown, it was as if the Lord said, “Amy, choose to stop worrying. Fight against it.” And I wondered what it would be like to choose not to worry, to really stop the worries in their tracks. Surprisingly, in that moment, I realized I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to stop worrying. Why? Why, when worrying is so all consuming, would I not want to fight it? That afternoon I realized two important things:

One, we worry over that which we want to control. Worrying reveals my desire to control my future and the future of those I love. My worries tend to revolve around the ‘whatifs.’ I know what I want my future to look like and how I think it will work best with the least heartache and pain possible, and if this is threatened, I worry. As the illusion of control slips from my fingers, I try to process the various outcomes, maybe in an effort to prepare myself so nothing catches me off guard. Choosing not to worry then is like admitting I can’t control the future or prepare myself for every scenario, showing that worrying itself is pointless. But isn’t this what Christ already told us? In Matthew 6, Jesus asks the question, “Can any of you add one moment to his life span by worrying?” And in the parable of the man who stored grain in order to have a nice retirement but died before being able to enjoy it, he shows us our inability to control our futures despite the best planning (Luke 12). So here is the truth we need to grasp: I cannot control my life or the lives of those I love. Neither can you. We become frantic and worry when we are the ones trying to figure it all out, solve the problem, and get life back to a comfortable normal. But a comfortable normal was never promised to me or you. Something better though was promised: That an all-sovereign, loving, and wise One controls all that happens in our lives and promises to use it for good. That our future rests securely in Him and there we can find peace. I agree with Pastor Matt Chandler who, during his own season of battling brain cancer, realized, “It is a freeing thing to understand that you have no control.” As long as you think you do have control, you will be filled with anxious striving to bring about your happy ending and will be crushed when you can’t make it happen.

The second thing I realized that afternoon is my faulty thinking that choosing not to worry means I don’t care. This is a lie that must be fought with truth. It is true that I only worry about the things that I care about, but this does not automatically mean that I don’t care if I don’t worry. You see, Christ Himself, who cared deeply about others, commanded us not to worry (Matthew 6:25ff). Worrying and caring are not synonyms. Caring is a healthy concern that will drive me to do what I can (look for a job, follow the doctor’s advice for health, do what I believe is best for my children), realizing at the same time that I cannot control the outcome, but I lay that down at the feet of the One who does. Worrying, however, doesn’t stop at the doing what I can; it does not leave the problem with God but takes it upon myself. Choosing not to worry does not reveal unconcern; it reveals the understanding that concerns belong in the hands of our capable Heavenly Father who commands us to rest in that truth.

Those two realizations that afternoon led to a tear-filled prayer that night on my knees before God. I made the choice to fight the fears, giving my husband, my children, and myself to God. I made the choice, for the first time since my husband’s cancer diagnosis, to take my hands off and give him to the Lord for His will to be done. Tears fill my eyes even now as I type this, for it is not an easy thing. But, dear sister, I never had control in the first place. It was all an illusion.

The worries and fears still come. But I have taken the first step. I have decided not to give them free reign. When a fear enters my mind, I fight it by praying, reciting Scripture, and setting my mind on things above (Col.3:1). I fill my mind with truths about God’s goodness and sovereignty. Complete victory will not happen overnight and it may always be a struggle on this earth, but it is worth the battle. Sisters in Christ, let us fight the fight of faith. And let us rejoice together and encourage one another with the truth that the future rests securely in the hands of One who loves our families far more than we do and who has promised a future day when all sickness and pain and sadness will be no more, and the battle against fear will be won.

--Amy O'Rear

Men and Women with Antennae

            Many years ago in my college days as a speech major I was required to memorize a speech that someone else had given and give it as if it were my own.  The speech I chose was entitled “Men and Women with Antennae.”  It was given by Kenneth I. Brown, executive director of the Danforth Foundation at LeMoyne College in Memphis, Tennessee.  That speech so impressed me that I have kept a copy of it all these years.  I recently found it as I was going through my files and wanted to share part of it with you.  The thought is as apropos now as it was when it was first given decades ago.

            I am indebted to a friend for the phrase that I have used for the theme of this commencement address.  We happened to be together some months ago in a college situation far away from the continental limits of the USA.  Both of us had concern for the man who had recently come to the presidency of the college where we were visiting.

            As a new administrator, he was embarking bravely upon an ever difficult job.  We were there long enough to know that his efforts were praiseworthy, and that his direction was progressively sound.  As far as we could see, the future augured well: and yet the new man seemed to be stumbling.  There were comments spoken in an undertone, which were not complimentary.  Even when words praised, the speaker’s eyes did not underscore the praise.

            My friend and I learned that the new administrator was thoughtless, or said to be so, of those who had labored in the situation long years before his coming. Some faculty leaders whose counsel might have been useful he seemed purposely to ignore, and there were bruised feet, many bruised feet, where he had trodden without care.  One day in speaking together of the situation we were trying to analyze, my friend said these words:  “Good man, but a man without any antennae.”  The phrase has lingered in my mind,

            No man is an island.  He needs that sensitiveness to the incipient emotions and heart-longings of others if he is to live as a responsible member of the human race.  He needs a special competence in those media of communication which are more difficult than the spoken language—the troubled eye, the quivering mouth, the withheld presence.  Love is not alone the giving of self, even though that giving be generous and abundant.  Love is the giving of self to another’s need, and that need of the other can be learned, not from generalizations about mankind nor from textbooks on psychology, but through the sensitive outreach of a human spirit touching gently another human spirit.

            The man without any antennae is the man who never quite comes into contact with his fellow human beings.  He never sizes up the whole situation.

            There is something essentially tragic about the man who is unaware of the music in the air which he is not hearing, of the pictures in the air which he is not seeing.  There is something essentially tragic about the man whose armor of personality prevents the subtle delicate shafts of human understanding that come from another, from penetrating into his own mind and heart.

Perhaps education is a process of building within us, according to the latest models, antennae which allow us to move into direct contact with the spirit and the heat and the mind of another.  I suppose that comes through the multiple and varied experiences of learning and living and loving.  I am sure that it comes in part through the human outreach that through understanding and compassion touches those around us.

            There are lonely men and women in American life today—of all ages, and of skins of all hues.  And whether they be young or old, they are reaching out in their loneliness to those with antennae who can catch their distress signals of loneliness and will come to their relief.

            There is a need abroad today—stark, desperate, yawning, colossal need—some of it the physical need for bread, and some of it the mental need for intellectual understanding, and some of it the spiritual need for human friendship and divine forgiveness, a need for man, and for God.  And it will be men and women with this capacity for human outreach and deep compassion who will first be aware of the existence of such need, and recognizing it will take their part in satisfying such need.

            I can find no more important word to bring to you than the word:  Be men and women with antennae.

            Do you sense when someone is hurting, when someone is angry, when someone needs an ear, a hug, a word of encouragement? It appears to me that each of us as Christians should be described as someone with antennae.

            Colossians 3:12 says, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.”

            Be a woman with antennae!

                                                                        ~~Faith Himes Lamb