Fear, Minivans, and the Father’s Mercy

"But the Lord said to Joshua, “Do not be afraid . . . "

Joshua 11:6

“The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith, and the beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety.”

--George Mueller

I eat the peanut butter cup and I realize with every bite that I am eating it because I am afraid. I’m not even enjoying it, just eating it because I’m worrying about a given situation and I am using chocolate and peanut butter as a substitute for prayer.

I don’t want to pray; I want to worry—and eat chocolate and peanut butter while I do it. It’s “easier” than praying-at the moment. Harder in the long run, as I allow the fear and distrust in God to build in my spirit the more I choose not to trust in Him. Harder because I’m constructing concrete walls that will eventually need to be broken down by the Holy Spirit of God.

George Mueller said, “The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith, and the beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety.”

When I choose to coddle anxiety, to coddle fear, rather than to run to Jesus Christ for protection and mercy, I am setting myself up for failure and discouragement, fear, and distraction—none of which honor God nor bring glory to Him, nor help me in my walk with Him.

I say that I am worrying because I am “concerned” about a problem. But my worry isn’t being channeled into prayer—it’s being channeled into chips or ice cream or excessive self-discipline for the sake of trying to retain control where I perceive that I am losing it.

Let it go . . . “Look to the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap and yet their Heavenly Father cares for them.” “Consider the lilies . . .”--beautifully, elegantly clothed and they took no thought for any stitch of their clothing.

Let it go.

In my own life, the Lord has used the example of George Mueller (and if you have never read about Mueller and his faith-run orphanages, I would commend his writings to you) to encourage me to trust the Lord for daily, practical needs. My husband and I attempt by the grace of God to avoid debt. We live dangerously close to the edge of Western so-called “poverty,” but the Lord always supplies our necessities and we have never been forsaken or destitute.

Recently, my faith was tested and strengthened specifically in areas where I had been fearful and doubtful. The Lord was gracious—two of the areas were in response to specific needs that my family had and that we had been praying about. One was a significantly large material need—for a minivan, and one for an infant carrier that I desired—and that would have been a large expense for my husband and me.

I brought both of these needs/wants before the Lord, and I struggled with trusting Him to provide.

In both of these situations, He mercifully and miraculously provided for us—the minivan came in a way that I least expected it—a large dealership that was trying to make a sale at the very end of the year—we usually never buy our vehicles through dealerships, but hadn’t found anything that fit within our budget for weeks, and so finally decided to try a particular dealership that came to my Mom’s mind and that she recommended to us.

We had a set price that we were working with—and at first the salesman seemed that he wouldn’t budge. I told him that we couldn’t go any higher than the price that we offered—he said that he admired the fact that we were trying to avoid debt and went to talk with his managers.

He came back—they would go a little bit lower, but not as low as we had hoped. I firmly replied that the offer that we had made was the best that we could do, and he made the effort to talk to them again.

They would take it, he came back and said—even seeming a bit surprised himself. We would just need to purchase the car in the few days that remained before the New Year—for the sake of their sales reports. The manager came by and joked with us—he seemed to be in a particularly good mood because of the New Year—and because the Lord had put it in his heart to take the offer that we made in answer to prayer.

I rejoiced in my heart because the answer had come in such an unlikely way—and the minivan was even a color and style that I liked, where I was sure (because of our budget) that it might be a hideous shade of orange, or something along those lines. :-))

And the infant carrier—another answer to prayer—a woman that my sister knew was giving hers to someone who needed it—and so the Lord provided for me, for us. He is merciful . . . and when we step back and actively put our trust and faith in Him, even if our efforts are shaky but genuine, He moves even mountains for us.

This may mean of course that we take active steps of obedience and trust—we cast out our nets, so to speak. But if the night lingers long, and no answer has come, if the net remains empty, I need to be careful that I don’t become fearful that He won’t provide for me and try to work out my own deliverance. Those times when it seems like no answer is in sight are the times that He is using to teach us to wait upon Him, to trust in Him and to have confidence that He is Jehovah-Jireh—the Great Provider.

He will fill the nets, after any hope of human help is past; He will work and move in a “mysterious” way that can only be attributed to His mercy and intervention. The glory then is His alone.

This has happened so many times in my life, especially after I grew discouraged and feared that no answer would be given, that we would be “destitute.” It may be “easier” in the short run to trust in bank books and steady jobs, and insurance policies, but after all of these fail us, it is God—the One who we often forget is the real Provider—who is constant, Who will provide for the needs of those who honor Him.

I leave you with these verses. They have been a great encouragement to me and I urge you to meditate on them and to put your trust in our mighty and merciful Heavenly Father whenever you have a need, whether material or spiritual:

Behold, all those who were incensed against you shall be ashamed and disgraced; they shall be as nothing, and those who strive with you shall perish.  You shall seek them and not find them-- those who contended with you. Those who war against you shall be as nothing, as a nonexistent thing.  For I, the Lord your God, will hold your right hand, saying to you, "Fear not, I will help you. Fear not, you worm Jacob, you men of Israel! I will help you," says the Lord and your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel. Behold, I will make you into a new threshing sledge with sharp teeth; you shall thresh the mountains and beat them small, and make the hills like chaff.  You shall winnow them, the wind shall carry them away, and the whirlwind shall scatter them; you shall rejoice in the Lord, and glory in the Holy One of Israel.  The poor and needy seek water, but there is none, their tongues fail for thirst. I, the Lord, will hear them; I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them. I will open rivers in desolate heights, and fountains in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.  I will plant in the wilderness the cedar and the acacia tree, the myrtle and the oil tree; I will set in the desert the cypress tree and the pine and the box tree together, that they may see and know, and consider and understand together, that the hand of the Lord has done this, and the Holy One of Israel has created it. 

(Isaiah 41:11-20)

The Faith of Hannah and the Mercy of God

“With the merciful You will show Yourself merciful; With a blameless man You will show Yourself blameless; With the pure You will show Yourself pure; And with the devious You will show Yourself shrewd. For You will save the humble people, But will bring down haughty looks. For You will light my lamp; The Lord my God will enlighten my darkness. For by You I can run against a troop, By my God I can leap over a wall. As for God, His way is perfect; The word of the Lord is proven; He is a shield to all who trust in Him. For who is God, except the Lord? And who is a rock, except our God? It is God who arms me with strength, And makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like the feet of deer, And sets me on my high places. He teaches my hands to make war, So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have also given me the shield of Your salvation; Your right hand has held me up, Your gentleness has made me great.
Psalms 18:24-35

Peninnah was a sour-hearted woman and Peninnah was a “show-off,” and Peninnah paraded her child-trophies before Hannah to provoke her. She had something that Hannah didn’t have and that Hannah wanted and that the Lord chose to withhold from Hannah.

She was a woman “blessed” with many children and Hannah had none—the curse of her time and the agony of her heart. And Peninnah rubbed it in, rubbed it in as much as she could, into the open, aching wound that Hannah bore.

And I read about Hannah, and Hannah didn’t lash out, but rather poured out the burning sorrow of her heart. Before her God, in humble, tearful agony, and her God heard. Heard Hannah’s wordless sobs and hushed throbbing prayers, her cries for mercy. And where she could see no mercy, no loving-kindness, only the gaping hole of an empty womb, the Lord planted a seed of promise. And his name was Samuel—God hears.

Did Hannah ever feel like heaping burning coals of words, bitter words against Peninnah? Feel like hurling insults and scourges of captious remarks against her tormentor? Probably. But she chose instead to cry out, to cry out to the only One who could, who would help her—her seemingly silent God of mercy, who ultimately spoke His will of love towards His child and granted her request.

We come up against situations sometimes, and the Lord allows these situations into our lives to test us and to teach us to put our hope in Him and to trust His merciful judgements.

Someone wounds us, perhaps over and over and over. Perhaps even someone who claims the name of Christ and appears “fruitful” and much-blessed. We are barren. The Lord has withheld something from us, for whatever reason He has deemed fit. Perhaps this person constantly provokes us, subtly delivers stinging remarks, snide insults, or carefully concealed digs. Maybe they try to ruin our reputation, try to hint that the Lord has withheld good from us because of something amiss in our character.

We cry. We pray. We wonder why the Lord doesn’t deal with this person immediately and put an end to such injustice.

Our prayers give way to sighings. We either become more fervent, seeking the Lord and hoping in His mercy, or we wilt under the pressure, growing bitter and depressed towards the person who is provoking us and ultimately towards the Lord who is allowing this thorn in our lives. We have a choice—to become frustrated, subdued, bitter and angry with God and with the one who is hurting us, to lash back and to bite back and to repay evil for evil. Or to put our trust in the God who hears.

We have to ask ourselves and be honest with ourselves before God--Do I want to be hard and cold and rocky? Or do I want the life of the Son of Jesus to shine through me? Do I treat others as I would have them treat me, am I poured out as a sweet spring of grace or a bitter mouthful of arsenic-tainted words and motives?

Someone has wounded me—do I openly or secretly try to wound them back? Someone has spitefully treated me—do I lash back in anger or carefully-concealed coldness? What does my heart speak towards the Father of glory? Am I reflecting the love of Jesus in the way that I am responding to pain and injustice? What does my heart speak towards God?

There are times, I think, when a safe distance can be maintained, if possible, with someone who continually seeks to cause pain and who becomes a distraction from your relationship with the Lord. If someone is trying to hit you on the head with a rock, you run—you don’t wait to negotiate. David found this course of action necessary with Saul (a so-called believer) and Elijah with Jezebel (a heartless pagan).

But there are times when we cannot run from a situation, when we must stand strong and pray and wait upon the Lord. He gives much grace in these situations. And they are hard, but the hardness comes so that we may learn to be soft. Not weak-willed, not passive, but moldable in God’s hand, the hand that will exalt us in due time, the hand that will lead us to the God who hears.

Hannah never strikes me as a spineless, woe-is-me-jellyfish kind of believer. Rather, she is incredibly strong through the strength of her God, steely-willed gazing towards her Maker. The spiritually barren are not those who wait upon the Lord, but rather, those who try to take things into their own hands, to manipulate their own destinies based upon a “practical” understanding of God’s ways, a surface faith in Him that has never dug deep into agonies and need and heart-sobbing and cries for mercy.

Hannah’s faith digs deep and in the end, she is able to look at her enemy, her persecutor and speak these words, words of faith and praise in the God who hears—not from a heart of bitterness, but from a heart of hope and praise:

“My heart rejoices in the Lord;

My horn is exalted in the Lord.

I smile at my enemies,

Because I rejoice in Your salvation.

No one is holy like the Lord,

For there is none besides You,

Nor is there any rock like our God.

Talk no more so very proudly;

Let no arrogance come from your mouth,

For the Lord is the God of knowledge;

And by Him actions are weighed.

The bows of the mighty men are broken,

And those who stumbled are girded with strength.

Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,

And the hungry have ceased to hunger.

Even the barren has borne seven,

And she who has many children has become feeble.

The Lord kills and makes alive;

He brings down to the grave and brings up.

The Lord makes poor and makes rich;

He brings low and lifts up.

He raises the poor from the dust

And lifts the beggar from the ash heap,

To set them among princes

And make them inherit the throne of glory.

For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,

And He has set the world upon them.

He will guard the feet of His saints,

But the wicked shall be silent in darkness.

For by strength no man shall prevail.

The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken in pieces;

From heaven He will thunder against them.

The Lord will judge the ends of the earth.

He will give strength to His king,

And exalt the horn of His anointed."

I Samuel 2:1-10

Photo Credit: VinothChandar / Foter.com / CC BY

This Small Glory-Beast

This Small Glory-Beast

By: Alexander Ruggieri

I wanted to share this poem written by my brother-in-law in response to his dog's passing away:

His gentle, faded golden field

        Envelope his earth from nose to heel

Sulking and weary, when once was taut

        Wrinkled and heavy, youth glory naught

                Losing a battle he never fought

 

His breathing once quick and shrilled

        Hastened spring’s sprints, playfully thrilled

Now slow in winter’s melancholy

        Raspy and weak, no season’s jolly

                Sin-suffering, woe to human folly

 

His sweet soulful eyes, ever enthralled

        As memories of stares and winks were recalled

Spoke to me, “why?” O, Solomon teacher!

        Why must he die? O, foul is this feature!

                This innocent, iniquity-absent creature!

 

Pitiless people, putting life to sleep

        Not from their needles, but from sins that all heap

This parable speaks of mystery’s intent

        To uphold the curse forbidden fruit has sent

                While all wonder under Firmament’s lament

 

Alas, time came to a pause

        Eternal sleep’s coming, to cause

All limbs to linger, live sessions to cease

        His confusion the greatest, his pain the least

                 Last minutes and moments, this small glory-beast

 

He’s labeled small, yet discovered right before

        The dust of the earth had opened its door

That glorious is he, who declared God’s being

        And beautiful, all inches of nature now fleeing

                Injected the end! Yet Christ in heart freeing

 

No, not the end of companion’s script

        Even as now, twelve years depart in the crypt

“Not the end,” gently whispered, hovering his ear

        Creation’s redemption, earth’s birth-pains are here

                Satan’s lie of a victory is never to fear! 

 

He groaned, a historical sound of old

        Awaiting the sons of God to be clothed

He twitched and relaxed, now death slowly seeping

       Christ knows the answer to Creation’s weeping

                This hope!  Redeemed glory!  Death is mere sleeping!

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The Gratitude of Worship

True gratitude is not sporadic. It cannot be spent or exhausted. It is the transformation of a mind that is more grateful for the giver than for the gift, for the purpose than for the present, for life itself rather than for abundance.
--Ravi Zacharias



We drive through the thick traffic and I keep glancing over at my sleeping Debbie, so peaceful and quiet beside me. Thanksgiving Day, and we’re headed towards my sister’s house with her cozy walkway and her fresh berry cobbler and her cheerful candles that chase away the gloom of November. We drive and we drink coffee and talk and we hope that Debbie will sleep the entire drive, which she does and I’m grateful because her naps have been so short lately.

We talk and we get a little loud now and then and I say “Shhh!” and we’re almost there now and the sky is partly overcast, a perfect Thanksgiving Day.

And when we get there, we take the pies out of the trunk and my Mama’s savory French stuffing that her mother used to make, and my sister’s stuffed mushrooms and her delightfully pecan-browned sweet potato casserole and I lick my lips and imagine the lovely repast that awaits inside.

We walk up the path to the house and we smell the delicious aromas that belong to Thanksgiving . . . the roasting turkey, almost done now, and the beautiful mound of mashed potatoes, and the sweet, crisp corn and the warm buttery biscuits.

And I see my dear sister and her hair pulled back as she prepares this feast of delights and her cheeks are warm and rosy from bending over the stove and her hands are made beautiful from the love and hard work and the creating of things lasting—she is one of the blessed and the joy pours from her eyes and she is grateful and her eyes quietly reflect their gratitude . . .

Sing praise to God
Who reigns above
For perfect knowledge, wisdom love
His judgements are divine, devout
His paths beyond all tracing out
Come lift you hearts to heaven’s high throne-
And glory give to God alone.

We give glory, and we gather around the table that He has set before us and we pour out thanks from hearts of praise. And we laugh and we talk and we smile and the warmth of His love surrounds us.

The table is set and the meal is served and we eat until we can’t possibly fit any more stuffing inside of our full bellies—though we’d like to.

And we give praise to God in our hearts knowing that He is the One who has provided these good and perfect gifts for us—His material gifts of food and warmth and clothing—and we sit in a warm house in our cozy sweaters and shoes and we bask in the knowledge that He has provided all things.

And we remember the years of severe want, when times were difficult and we had sold almost all of our furniture and when we didn’t have heat upstairs and when my sister and I piled blankets high on our beds to stay warm at night and humbled our “educated” selves by working at a fast food chain in order to survive. And God was gracious. And He gave us what we needed. And He brought us out into a spacious place and delighted to do us good. Even in those difficult times. And when other’s hours were cut, for some reason ours stayed steady. And the manager gave us free iced coffee and even though he was an unbeliever, was merciful towards us . . . the Lord was merciful towards us . . .

We celebrate Thanksgiving this year, and we don’t give thanks glibly, because we have felt the strain of need, the strain of eating spaghetti night after night, the strain of anxiety over finances, the strain of cold and worry and of crying out to a merciful Father who never left us desolate.

And we try to celebrate the holidays now in that knowledge, and place the emphasis where it belongs . . . ultimately not on family, food, football, good times, friends . . . but on a faithful Father who gives us all things richly to enjoy and under Whose umbrella all of these other “lesser things” fall. We love Him and we have felt His presence in times of plenty and in times of want. And He has been faithful to us.

We see the invisible empty place at the head of the table and we worship the One who has given and taken away and we know in our heart of hearts that "blessed is the name of the Lord.” And He inhabits that place and pours His balm of healing thanksgiving into our
hearts . . . blessed, blessed be the name of the Lord.

And later we gather together and sing and my sister’s husband, Alex plays the guitar, strumming to the great old Thanksgiving hymns, the words to which I love . . . and they are deep and they are rich and they speak testimony to a Mighty and merciful God.

And then Londie’s husband says, let me teach you a simple chorus that I know and he strums it on his guitar and he sings the words so that we can repeat them and it touches my heart today with a message so sweet and unembellished and plain—

Thank You, Jesus
For the grace that You have given us
We could not repay
But from my heart I choose to say
Thank You

And that simple song plants a melody of praise in my heart and later we drive home and I am full . . . of simple, heartfelt joy in the One who has given all that we may give Him thanks—not to repay, but to worship.

Freedom in a Prison

“We do not usually learn that Christ is all we need until we reach that point where he is all we have!”

--Vance Havner

The great gray door swings shut and there is finality in its closing. The door is shut and the building is grim and the guards hold sentry, ever watchful of their captors.

A prison is a dismal place, the barbed wire fences speaking as if to say, “Don’t come inside, for you will never get out.” And those inside have more often than not broken the rules of society . . . There are others who never enter a prison because they haven’t broken society’s rules. But they have at some point in their lives, broken God’s. Every man is in chains until the blood of Christ frees him. Some chains are visible; some are unseen.

And some sit in prisons and they are weary and they are discouraged and they are hardened by the rough language, by the jagged behavior around them. They sit in prisons and wonder if they will ever be free, if their life will ever be redeemed or whether they are “stuck” for good. And it is just that they are there and justice has been served and they have “gotten” what they technically deserve.

The Gospel offers the hope and the freedom that we don’t deserve-- the Gospel that is able to emancipate men, to make them right with God, to set them loose from their prison so that they may praise His name.

Jesus brings freedom through prisons, through closed doors, through hopeless, waiting days of nothing but four gray walls and a sink and a latrine. Jesus visits prisons where no one else would set foot inside, lest others might think that they belong there, too. Jesus walks in prisons.

My brother-in-law Alex was blessed to be able to attend a Bible study this week that was led by a missionary that our church supports. It was in a prison. He had to undergo a background check and pass under the watchful eye of the prison guards there. He had to enter into that closed place so that he could feed upon the Bread of Life with free men in chains.

When he came home he said that the experience made him think of Vance Havner’s quote, “We do not usually learn that Christ is all we need until we reach that point where he is all we have!”

Often, men and women in prison are desperate. They have come to a place of desperation in their lives, committed some crime that further proves their desperation, and now sit silently behind the great gray walls that hold them and their desperation in. Some turn to the Lord in prison—why? Perhaps because they have come to the end of themselves. Perhaps because they finally realize their need for a Savior. Perhaps because they are lonely and weary and discouraged thinking of the joyless hours, days, years looming before them.

Jesus is joy and they cling to Him. Jesus is joy behind prison walls because He is freedom in chains. And the men and women who come to know Him in prison are often some of the most grateful because they realize that they have been forgiven much. And so they love much. The Son has set them free and they are free indeed.

So, for some, prison is worth it. Prison is worth it if the soul is united with its Maker and the spirit is set free to praise the God of heaven. When He is all we have . . . when family and friends have forsaken us. When the years stretch before us like dark-robed guards and threaten to suffocate our souls. When we realize that we have committed crimes too great, too heinous for words and that without forgiveness we will sink beneath the mire. When we don’t think that we can go another day without seeing the blue sky or without feeling the lovely crisp grass beneath our unchained feet.

He is salvation from prison. And there are other “prisons” that chain us and hold us down in the dark and threaten to overwhelm our souls. The “prison” of a spouse dying-- the loneliness, the pain, the utter grief of spirit, the “prison” of a painful divorce in which we have been the victim of bitter rejection, the “prison” of a long, drawn out disease that wracks our body and steals the joy of the light of day from our hearts.

And I can remember days, joyless days in the prison of a situation that I could not control, and thinking, if the sun was out and the birds were singing and the beauty of spring was in the air, “I wish it were dark and cold and gray,” because that is how I felt. I could not relate to light and to warmth and to grace and my soul was in agony. Until the Lord stooped down and I realized that He is all that I need. That “when all around my soul gives way, He the is ALL my hope and stay.” Until I realized that “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform” and that “behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.” He was all I needed. But His grace had to touch me and make me realize that, not only in my mind, but in my heart.

A prison can be the gateway to freedom when it makes a man or a woman recognize their need of Christ. And a spiritual prison can be the beginning of an open door, if we will allow the Holy Spirit to stoop to us in our need and help us, lifting our feet, like pilgrim out of the mire and setting them on solid ground.

Photo Credit: Thomas Hawk / Foter.com / CC BY-NC

Beauty For Ashes

"To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

Isaiah 61:3

When all the sky has turned to dust of gray
And sun-warmed days are gone at last
Then, to my Lord I kneel and pray
When every hope of dawn seems past

When smoky leaves turn into barren ash
The wind of summer turned away
The hills are silent, clothed in dying grass
Their emerald splendor could not stay

When all the sweetness of the harvest’s gone
And hungry souls ache to be filled
Glad singing ended and the fields, forlorn
The land in sorrow—hushed and still

Then God will come with all His hosts of light
My God who changes night to day
And makes the ache of darkness bright
When all the shadows flee away

Photo credit: James Jordan / Foter.com / CC BY-ND

My Fear of the Church Potluck

"I need Thee, oh, I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;Oh, bless me now, my Savior,I come to Thee."

--Annie S. Hawks

The holidays are here again, or at least, just around the corner. Everyone’s spirits seem to lift in anticipation of the festivities. And so do mine . . . I love the cheerful Christmas carols being played, the decorations, the lights, the warmth, the glow. There’s “a song in the air,” a song that resonates in believer’s hearts as they focus on the Nativity, the Gift of the Christ-Child, the physical advent of salvation. And as Christian folks near and far gather together, we’re reminded of how we will all share in the great Marriage Feast of the Lamb one day, one glorious, freeing day.

I love the holiday season . . . and yet, there is one event that always strikes fear in my heart. And that is, another church potluck. No; I’m not afraid of calories (although to someone who is, the church potluck is not the place for the weak in will ;-)). Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the fellowship, the games, the abundant fare, the succulent desserts. The church potluck strikes a note of terror in my soul because . . . I am not a “people person.” I am shy. I like to retreat into myself and nervously ponder whether or not I answered so and so in the “right” way, whether I said something that didn’t make sense, whether there was food in my teeth while I was talking to an elder’s wife.

In years past, I’ve tried to think of dozens of excuses not to go, to try to conjure up a reason for my absence.

I usually end up going. I usually end up enjoying myself and having a good time of fellowship with the brethren. I usually end up over-eating, but that’s a different matter . . .   :-)

I am better at expressing my thoughts through writing rather than through speaking. I like to think about what I am going to say. I like to make sure that I’m not saying anything (truly) heretical. I like to ask the opinions of other Godly family members and friends before I voice a strong opinion about something, in general.

But sometimes the Lord doesn’t give us exactly what we want. Sometimes He places us in situations where we feel uncomfortable so that we can learn, step by painful freeing step, to depend upon Him. So that we will experience His presence and Him speaking through us at the spur of the moment when we haven’t had time to think through what our answer is going to be.

And it’s funny, sometimes I don’t “feel” uncomfortable at all. Sometimes I can go to church or to a social gathering and be perfectly at ease. And I am like Peter walking on the waves, heading toward his Savior. But at other times, (most times) I am a blundering nervous wreck who hides behind my husband’s loquaciousness, nodding my head and smiling, trying to eat as slowly as possible so that I won’t have to rise from my squeaky folding chair and actually carry on a conversation with someone (the point of “the potluck!”) Suddenly (and usually when I am worrying about what people think or depending on myself) I begin to sink beneath the waves and cry out in desperation for Jesus to lift me up before I drown and make an absolute fool of myself.

All at the church potluck. And there are people there who are social butterflies just flitting around from person to person, saying all of the right things and giving all of the right smiles and there is never food between their teeth and they just don’t understand people like little old me who are terrified of the church potluck.

Isn’t life funny like that? And I think of the times that people stepped outside of their circle of friends and talked to me at the church potluck and I was eternally grateful, and they never realized it. I think of an associate minister’s wife at the time, who “stepped down” to spend time in conversation with me when I was in highschool and she wasn’t pushing to find out what plans I had for college or whether I had a summer job lined up or how well I did on my SAT’s. She was just living out the love of Christ toward someone who she probably realized felt awkward and uncomfortable. And there have been other people like that. People who are not concerned about whether or not they are sitting with the “right” people, the “important” people at the church potluck. People who sit with the people who they perceive to be “lowly,” and who don’t do it for the show of it, but because they genuinely have love for the brethren. People who are filled with the Holy Spirit and the love of Christ and who don’t patronize but truly care.

We need to realize that the Lord makes people different, that He has placed them in all different circumstances in life, that they have come from all different backgrounds and most of us have hang-ups and insecurities and fears. And I am not giving anyone an “excuse” for fearful, introverted to the point of being unfriendly behavior, but I am saying that we should show mercy, not judgement and a turning up the nose and wagging the tongue towards them.

There is a great difference between someone who grew up in the church, sang in the choir, came from a Godly family and attended every church service, and someone who came from a background of abuse, beatings, soap operas, pornography, chaos, and constant sarcastic belittlement from a parent or from parents. We need to show compassion. We need to sit with people from the latter group at the church potluck who have come to Christ, who have been redeemed, but who still feel uncomfortable and who use the word “ain’t” once in a while.

And though I grew up under the influence of a godly Christian mother who protected us and brought us up in the fear of the Lord, my disposition is one of shyness. And on top of that “handicap,” many times in my own life, depending on the circumstances, I have felt extremely uncomfortable for different reasons because of the sinful behavior of my father and the effect that it had upon our family. I didn’t want to talk about it; I wanted to hide it and to protect those who I loved who were affected by it. I didn’t want to be confronted at the church potluck about “how things were going” by someone who completely didn’t understand the situation, the agony, the deep distress and the extent of emotional pain that it caused.

I understand now that there are “well-meaning” Christians who intend no harm in asking somewhat silly questions; they just don’t understand because they haven’t experienced it. But I think as believers that it is sometimes better to hold your peace and just let someone know that you are sincerely praying for them if you don’t understand. But I digress . . .

Ahh . . . the church potluck. For me, it is an opportunity to learn to rely more upon the Holy Spirit in any given situation. To stop thinking about how panic attacks run in my family and to just take a couple of strong aspirin afterwards when the inevitable headache comes.

For others, it is an opportunity to learn grace, to exhibit grace towards those who are uncomfortable. Not in a showy way that makes the “shy” ones feel like you are pitying them. The Holy Spirit will teach you how. The Holy Spirit will show you who to talk to and how it is more important to show the love of Christ in this way than to gush over the quality of the apple pie or to take the highest social place. The Lord will reward you. And He will be well-pleased in your obedience and the love that is poured out through you by His Spirit.

And isn’t that what the church potluck is all about? The love of Christ, the fellowship of the brethren, and the glory to Him alone.

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