A Taste of my Own Medicine…

I love to give advice. I think it is one of the things I do best. And, when I make suggestions, I am frequently told, “Oh, that is such a great idea! I am going to start doing that!”

It is far easier to give advice to others than to give advice to yourself.

At a recent family reunion, a relative shared with me that she wants to write books. She has several plot lines floating around in her head but hasn’t put anything down on paper because it seems like an overwhelming, time consuming task. I asked if she could spare thirty minutes a day. A half an hour isn’t much time, and she said that she could. My suggestion was to make an appointment to write for ONLY thirty minutes a day, every day. Set a timer and don’t worry about writing perfect paragraphs. Just write!

This exercise will develop the habit of writing and her books will eventually be recorded. And I heard that familiar response again, thanking me for the good idea and the determination to begin implementing my suggestion.

I was only allowed to bask in the moment for a short time. The Holy Spirit began to prod me about doing the very same thing.

I am frequently encouraged to write. And I try, but I lack the consistency of a routine. I start strongly, but quickly lose momentum and put writing back on the bottom of my priority list until someone or something nudges me to begin writing again.

When I think I have run out of interesting things to say, the blog fizzles .

But, thirty minutes isn’t too much time. I think I can write for thirty minutes. I think I can take a taste of my own medicine!

Construction Zone!

Thomas Jefferson began construction of his mansion “Monticello” at the age of 26 and did not consider it complete at the time of his death, at age 83. For most of his life, his home was a construction zone.

I can relate to that! Both my husband and I grew up in “unfinished houses.” While not palatial estates by any stretch of the imagination, it seem our parents were always tweaking our homes, adding upgrades to the floors, expanding rooms, or adding design elements here or there. The smell of fresh sawdust triggers a flood of happy childhood memories for both of us.

This tradition has continued throughout our marriage. Because of the experiences from our childhoods, we were not afraid of “fixer-uppers” and houses that needed some TLC. We have moved frequently through my husband’s career and have purchased a home at every stop along the journey. True to form, we have added rooms, replaced roofs, upgraded kitchens, and/or finished basements in every house.

Because we are creative, we tend to act on the suggestion of “wouldn’t it be nice to have x, y, or z at this house?” and then we proceed to tear out walls and transform the structure to our vision. It hasn’t happened overnight; the process has spanned years in some cases, and the fragrance of my marriage has been a combination of sawdust, drywall dust and paint!

No matter where you may be living, there is another home improvement project taking place on a much grander scale. If you are a Christian, you are the dwelling place of God’s Holy Spirit. When we accept Jesus Christ as the Lord of our life, we become alive to spiritual things and the Holy Spirit moves in. He guides us and helps us in our inner remodeling project, as God slowly transforms us from our selfish stance of, “Life is all about ME” to the very image of His Son, Jesus Christ, bearing a heart of love for God and others.

This is definitely an “upgrade” but, much like Thomas Jefferson’s construction project, it is a process which takes time. God has a magnificent vision for our life, but it is not fully realized nor completed until we reach heaven. He consistently continues to tweak and improve us through circumstances, people, and Bible study, giving us opportunity to become more and more like Jesus in our reactions, thoughts, and words.

Dear Christian, if you find yourself feeling as if your walls have been broken down, that you are surrounded by the debris of shattered dreams, and find yourself knee deep in the crumbled plaster of dashed expectations, take heart. Your reconstruction is in process! Things must first be torn down in order to be rebuilt. It is a process and it takes time.

You may be frustrated by the construction mess and wonder when the 2×4’s and sawhorses will cease to be a trip hazard in your living room. Why do the same old sins seem to trip you up, time after time? The process does not happen overnight, but the day is coming when you will have victory.

When the “fresh paint” smell of Jesus begins to permeate your life, you will carry that fragrance where ever you go. The people you meet will notice it, catching a whiff of something different, like an exotic perfume. Those who have known you will begin to notice the changes, the new beauty and grand design taking place in your life and will want to know what has happened. Your “house” will be fresh and new and others will notice and want to know how your life has changed. And, you will be able to share about your personal remodel by the Master Carpenter and invite them to join the construction zone.

Remembering Lester

I had a boyfriend in ninth grade whose name was Lester. He was a big, husky kid with a rough and tumble attitude who played a defensive position on the Jr. High Football team; academics were not his strength, and teachers warned my mother to keep an eye on her sweet, studious little girl because of her fascination with this big, bad country boy.

Neither of us was old enough to drive, so our “dates” consisted of holding hands at high school football games, dancing at school dances, and talking for hours on the phone after school. Sometimes he would phone me and play records for me to listen to. His favorite was “Baby, I need your Loving” by Johnny Rivers. Sometimes he would even sing along. At fifteen, I thought it was terribly romantic.

A little rural church held a monthly youth outreach called “Teen Club” and Lester, his cousin, my best friend and I were regular attendees. The youth pastor and his wife were achingly young, fresh out of Bible College and tried their best to connect with us, but we listened in boredom to their sermons and quickly found an excuse to escape from the church basement, board games and lemonade into the night where we could horse around under the streetlight in front of the church. We were rowdy, disinterested, and I suspect, discouraging for the young ministers.

Lester and I did not remain an item for long. We dated on and off during my freshman year, but ran in different circles for the rest of my high school time. Over the years I lost track of these people who were once so important in my life, but recently reconnected with my girlfriend from those Teen Club days. She and I both have a committed relationship now with Jesus Christ, so perhaps some of those seeds were not sown in vain. I don’t know what happened to the boys.

I heard from her last week and she sent me a copy of Lester’s obituary. The article said that he passed away, surrounded by family, in his sleep. It sounds like a long illness, perhaps cancer; the paper didn’t give any details. But it made me remember him, and those days back when I was fifteen.

Ministry has brought me in contact with many teens who remind me of my fifteen year old self. Those youth who come to events with ulterior motives, whose interest is focused on some guy or girl and who have perfected the high art of flirting are found in every church. And I think of that dedicated missionary couple, faithfully sharing the gospel with their unruly, uncaring audience.

I write this as an encouragement to those discouraged, frustrated youth workers. Keep sowing the seed; be faithful. I don’t know if Lester or his cousin ever accepted Jesus, but two of those boisterous teens did, and one grew up to be a pastor. Your job is to faithfully sow the seed; the Holy Spirit’s job is to make the seed grow. Keep sowing because you don’t know which of those seeds will sprout. You are making a difference, even if you cannot see immediate results.

Rest in peace, Lester. I hope some of those faithfully planted seeds helped you find Jesus.