Standing Fast

Dry, parched, cracked.

This is my soul when I am not drinking deeply from God’s word.  And then my soul cries out the words in Psalm 42:

1  As a deer pants for flowing streams,

so pants my soul for you, O God.

2  My soul thirsts for God,

for the living God.

And thus I am refreshed–by God’s word, by prayer, by encouragement of the believers.  I am refreshed and renewed, ready for where my Lord will lead me next.

And as a corporate body of believers in Christ, we, too, are called to be refreshing to each other.  Refreshing friends.  How do I know that?  A couple of simple verses in 2nd Timothy 1:16-17:

16 May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, for he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains, 17 but when he arrived in Rome he searched for me earnestly and found me— 18 may the Lord grant him to find mercy from the Lord on that Day!—and you well know all the service he rendered at Ephesus.

Do you see?  Paul was blessed by God to have Onesiphorus in his life.  Being with Onesiphorus was refreshing.  He wasn’t ashamed of the chains that held Paul.  And look at this:  when he arrived in Rome, he searched earnestly for Paul until he found him.

What does it mean to be a refreshing friend?  What does refresh mean?

It means to provide new energy and vigor.  It means to reinvigorate or cheer a person.  If anyone needed refreshing, it certainly was Paul!  Especially when he was imprisoned.  I can imagine Onesiphorus and Paul talking for hours, with Paul’s spirits being lifted just by being with his friend.  There was a bond–I’d dare say even a brotherly love between them–that was like drinking cool water for Paul.  And probably for Onesiphorus, too.  Because why else would he search earnestly for Paul in Rome until he found him?

Obviously Onesiphorus had a servants heart as well, because Paul calls out that he rendered much service at Ephesus.

What can we do to cultivate refreshing friendships?

One thing we can do is become involved in the local church.  There is something about worshipping with people that lends itself to friendships that are more like family than they are friendships.  I know that’s been true in my life, with the church I attend.  I am refreshed just by being around other believers and worshipping with them.

But we also need to learn how to be a refreshing friend.  How to listen.  How to remember the little and big things.  How to care.  How to cheer and how to laugh with each other.  And while sometimes these traits come naturally, they sometimes also take practice.  They involve risk–risk of rejection, risk of being hurt in the short or the very long run.  Is it worth it?  Is it worth the time, the effort, the potential pain?

I believe that it is, but more than that, I believe that this is what God calls us to be—refreshing friends.

I want to be a refreshing friend.

2 Timothy 1:5

5 I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, dwells in you as well.

Let me set the stage for you.  Paul is writing to Timothy, his “spiritual son”.  Paul thanks God day and night for Timothy.  He longs to see him.  And then he writes these words of encouragement:  ”I am reminded of your sincere faith”.

This is not a throw-away sentence in the greeting of a letter.  No, Paul truly remembers Timothy’s sincere faith.

But what is sincere faith?  This is a faith that is real.  A faith that is not for show.  A faith that doesn’t claim to know all–or any–of the answers, and yet continues to thrive and “dwell” in Timothy.  The use of the word “dwell” leads us to imagine that this faith is deep–the roots are deep.

And we see why those roots are deep.  They are deep because this same sort of sincere faith dwelt first in Timothy’s grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice.  I’ve often wondered, “Where was the grandfather?  Where was the dad?”

We don’t know the answer to that question, and probably never will.  But we do see a heritage of faith passed down from grandmother, to mother, to son.

I feel the weight of these words on my soul tonight.  During our dinner out, we actually discussed God’s word.  And they actually listened and participated.  I wanted to know what their thoughts were about God as their father, and what it takes to be a good man and father.  Because, since their dad is absent and no “father figure” has really stepped into their lives, I have a responsibility to show them–to teach them–sincere faith.

But first off, I have to have sincere faith myself.  And what does that look like?  Unwavering belief in the gospel.  Commitment to God first in my life, above all else.  Disciplines that shape who I am and what I believe, centered around scripture and prayer.  The responsibility is heavy; yet, I am called to it, much like Lois and Eunice.  And I want to be Lois and Eunice, for my children and for my grandchildren (many, many years from now).

I fail so often.  I falter in my faith–I find myself stuck in the mire of disbelief.  I struggle to trust, to believe.  I am not often a good role model for my children, though I do seek to be that–to show them that God is real.  Not just as an abstract thought (something we discussed today at dinner) but as a God that desires a personal relationship with each one of us.  As a Father who loves us dearly.

1 John 3:1-2 states:

3:1 See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 2 Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

I want my children, more than any scholarship or degree or job or marriage, to know this:  that they are children of God.  That God has lavished His love upon them.  And that when He appears, they shall be like Him, because they will see Him as He is.

Tonight, for the first time, I deeply appreciate the names of my boys:  Timothy and John Mark.  I didn’t choose them, but am so glad they were chosen by their father.  With Timothy, may I live out the Biblical Timothy’s heritage, of passing down sincere faith to him.  And Barnabas took John Mark with him on his missionary journey, in spite of a disagreement over that with Paul.  I wish we knew more about John Mark.  Maybe when we go home, we will.  But no matter—I have as much responsibility to instill sincere faith in John Mark, as well as my girls.

Tomorrow is a new week.  A new chance.  A new opportunity.  Every day is a new day, with new mercies.

6 And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

Abba, Father.  The task seems to large, to be like Lois and Eunice.  But God, that is the desire of my heart.  Help me God.

Whew—watch this video and ask God to open your eyes to the global church, beyond our Western View of Church.

A couple of days ago, I was thinking about Father’s Day while praying for my crew.

Father’s Day is kind of a downer when a father is absent, due to death, separation, divorce, incarceration, deployment–there are so many different reasons a father may not be present on Father’s Day.

Knowing my kids were disappointed to not be visiting their Father on Father’s day led to me praying a bit harder for them–for their tender hearts and incredible forgiving spirits.  This led me to wanting to do something amazing for them this Father’s Day.

So…after brainstorming awhile…I’ve developed a new holiday that will now be annually celebrated in the Duffer Household.  The title of this new holiday is MAN Day!

The goal of this day is to celebrate the “men” my boys have become and the way they have stepped up to the plate in the absence of their father.  Several things fall to them now, without a father’s help or teaching.  They’ve learned to mow the yard and weed eat it so that it looks just as good as everyone else’s.  Tim’s had to do numerous repairs on the house, the car and has taken on all of the cooking and grocery shopping.  Mark has fallen into the role of “protector” of his sisters—watching out for them, making sure the doors are locked (when we had never locked them before) and keeping a “weapon” by his bedside in case an intruder comes in.  They do not whine, pout or demand their way.  Instead they are understanding of the situation we are in, and act very maturely about it.

Can you tell how proud I am of them?  :)

I can’t leave out Keli’s boyfriend, Jimmy.  He’s become part of this Odd Duck Crazy Family–and helps out by doing some minor car repair on our vehicles, as well as giving attention to each of Keli’s siblings.  He’s a good guy and I’m proud of him as well.

So, what will MAN Day consist of?

First, the MEN get to choose where they want to eat out at after church.  Lunch is on me (usually if we eat out on Sunday, Tim and Mark pay for their own because they are working mowing lawns).  And then—-this couldn’t be more perfectly timed—we’re all going to go to the movies to watch “Man of Steel”, the new SuperMan movie.  To top the day off, there will be a trip to Sweet Frog.

We’re going to have an amazing day.  I can’t wait.

Psalm 68:5 says:

Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. 

While my children are not technically fatherless, they are indeed to a large degree “fatherless”.  And I am not a widow, but divorce and incarceration has definitely left me in a similar state of widowhood, although with great shame.

But I can truly, truly say that God has been Father to my children.  I can truly, truly say that He has been my protector.  My deliverer.  My defender.  He has even been my Father, to whom I am so grateful.  He longs to be a Father to us all, if we will only believe and allow Him to do so.

I’ve posted the following video twice before, but I’m posting it here again, in case you’ve missed it.  It is a clear picture of what God has done for me, and what God can do for you.  It’s titled The Prodigal.  I can barely watch it without it messing me up, because it is the story of my life.  I was a rebel, and now I am His child, and He is my Father.  And the Father of my children.  Below this video is another video of the song “Defender”, which also plainly spells out our lives in detail, thanks to our Almighty Father.

We had a storm last night.

At one point we were listening to the trees cracking and falling down in the woods across from our street.

The wind.  The rain.  The branches snapping and falling in our backyard.  The dark, rolling clouds. The unstoppable power of it all.

And then the storm was over.  Storm debris lying everywhere.  Our neighbor’s trash can upended with trash scattered, an eerie stillness, and a loss of electricity all followed in the wake of this storm.  We had come through the storm.  But we were not unscathed–there will be much work to be done to put things right again tomorrow.

We’ve all had storms in our life.  Terrible storms.  Tragic storms.  And when we are in the midst of the storm, it is usually disorienting, confusing.  All our energy gets zapped into weathering the storm at the time.  The goal is survival.  The goal in the midst of the storms of life is to not let them blow us away, or blow us to pieces that can’t be recovered, like the terrible tornadoes in Oklahoma this year.  We fight to remain upright, we fight to make sense of things, and yet everything is in disarray.

And then the storm stops, and we are left with a life that has been shattered.  We are left with a field of debris that has to be cleaned up.  There is a disconcerting silence after the storm sometimes–silence from God, silence in ourselves, silence from our friends and family. And we look at the mess created and even with the sun peeking intermittently through the clouds, it looks like a disaster zone–a war zone.

But the amazing thing is that, by God’s grace, you’ve somehow survived the storm in your life.  Oh yes, I know there were lots of times that you thought you wouldn’t.  That you were sure you couldn’t hang on much longer.  But just like the disciples in the boat, in the midst of a terrifying storm heard Jesus say “Peace, be still” and the storm stopped, there is almost a sense of awe and fear that somehow you made it.  You are still alive.  Your soul is still alive.

However; there is the aftermath of the storm.  The days, weeks, months, years that follow a devastating storm.  Because now the pieces have to be retrieved.  The debris has to be gathered and destroyed.  There is much work to do.  And yet that storm that just turned your life upside down?  Yeah, well it’s left you with no electricity–no power or energy to do the things that must be done next.

I know this scenario full well.  I have lived this scene and am still living this scene three years after one of the biggest storms of my life. The soul that is crushed.  The heart that is broken.  The children that don’t understand why or how such a heinous storm could sweep through our lives.  There is the shock–overwhelming shock that can manifest itself physically, mentally and spiritually.  Just remembering those days still makes me sick to my stomach today.  O, there were times I thought my soul would die.  And there were times I wanted to help it die, just to stop the hurt–the pain of the roaring wind whipping through my life.  Yet God’s grace stayed my hand and stilled my storm.  And now we can see the sun starting to appear as we’ve spent three years picking up the pieces.

And so, with God’s grace even in the times I couldn’t sense Him, my crew and I have slowly picked the pieces up.  We’ve had a lot of help, from hundreds of people across the world praying for us, to those closest–such as our church Seaford Baptist, the amazing people of Zion Methodist, and the guidance from York Presbyterian–jumping in to help sweep away the debris.  In the immediate aftermath, we were without the basics:  Food, clothing, shelter.  And yet God provided all three for us just when we needed them.  People fed us, people donated their gently worn clothes to us, we were sheltered many places: a couple of different homes, Hawaii with the ex-inlaws, and eventually two parsonages–Seaford Baptist’s and Zion Methodist’s, which is currently our shelter from the storm.

But even with all of the amazing, tremendous help my family received, it was still ultimately up to me and to my crew and to my God to find a new patch of solid ground.  A new normal.  And by His hand and His hand only, we are starting to experience that new normal. By His grace we are learning to laugh again, and laugh loudly.  We are remembering—-surprised by even–joy.  Real joy.  We can see bits of the sun shining through the clouds again–bits of blue, clear sky.  The sky is important to me, it’s so good and comforting to see it again.

And I’m learning that my entire being is dependent upon my Jesus.  For it is He who holds all things together.  We see it clearly in Colossians 1:17:

17 And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

As God and I meet each morning before the day begins, He stills the residual storm in my soul and gently pushes me forward to survive another day.  And sometimes to thrive even.  This is peace.  This is the steadying of His hand, after the storm.

There are still days that defeat me, but they are less and less.  The angry storm clouds?  I can still see them, but they are drifting way out over the sea, away from us.  That doesn’t mean that another storm might not come, for who knows what tomorrow may bring?  Only our God does.

But I rest assured tonight, at 2:30 am after being awakened by a rough dream, I rest assured that my God is the sustainer of my life.  Who can compare to Him?  No one.  Nothing.  Not my intellect, not my sheer will, not my books–nothing can compare with God the Father.  The storms of life, they come and go.  And much destruction is left in their paths.  But my God sends those that we need to help us gather up the pieces again.

And my God, though I may not sense Him, takes my hand–and your hand–and leads us to the shelter of His grace and mercy.

“I admit that my relationship with God has been more intellectual than emotional,” Prior tells us. “…To respond emotionally to God directly is more than I can bear. So God in his goodness has bestowed the gift of literature. Literature is like the cleft of a rock that God has taken me to, a place from which I can experience as much of the glory of God as I can endure. Great literature allows me, like Moses, to see the back of God.”

Last night, I had the honor and privilege of getting to teach our ladies Bible Study at church.  This summer we are studying James.

I was so excited, so nervous, so ready, so not ready.

This would be my first time to truly interact with a group of people at church beyond sitting in the balcony and participating in choir and Worship Team Ministry, since my ex-husband was arrested.  I’ve gone to no social events.  I’ve avoided the red room, the foyer, and the middle of the gym.  This was going to be a big step, because there was no place to hide.  But I was ready.  For the most part.

I prepared and prepared.  I studied the scriptures, I used my Logos, I bought a beast of a commentary.  I put a lot of time into studying.  I wanted to be beyond well-prepared.  I wanted to do a good job.  I wanted to make God “proud”.

But none of that happened.  No, instead God showed up and schooled me.

In the midst of those two hours, I learned that James very well could have been an unbeliever.  There was enough evidence that showed that Jesus’ mother and brothers (where was Joseph???) thought Jesus might be mad.  They may have even been embarassed by him.  And yet in 1 Corinthians 15:7, we are told that Jesus appeared to James.  But no more details than that.  At all.  What was said?  What was James’ reaction?  Why did Jesus appear to James alone instead of all his brothers at that point?  What did Jesus say?  I want to know, but like we saw last night, it may just be none of our business.  It may have been a very intimate, personal moment between Jesus and his half-brother.  This is not-nothing.

There is so much more to what came out of studying last night.  So much more.  When we were finished, I was overwhelmed.  Exhausted.  I slept better last night than I’ve slept in weeks, even oversleeping and not waking up until 7:10–a crazy thing for me who is nearly always out of bed by 5:00am.

I realize now how guilty I was in not first asking God to “show Himself” last night above and beyond my preparation, but I’m so thankful that He did.  So thankful.

Yes, I was totally schooled last night.  And so much the better for it.

Most of us find it very difficult to want “Heaven” at all—except in so far as “Heaven” means meeting again our friends who have died. One reason for this difficulty is that we have not been trained: our whole education tends to fix our minds on this world. Another reason is that when the real want for Heaven is present in us, we do not recognize it. Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise.

C.S. Lewis—Mere Christianity         

I kinda like slugs.

I don’t want them on me, of course.  But they can be kind of funny looking.  Like in the movie “Flushed Away”.

When my girl Keli was little little, she went over to our pastor’s house to play with his daughter.  We picked her up afterwords, and as we were driving home, she made this announcement:  ”Pastor Olcott has DRUGS all over his house!”  After a few moments of questioning her, we figured out she meant SLUGS–she and her friend Annaliese had been searching for slugs outside in their yard.

While watching slugs is one thing, being a slug is a completely different thing.

Sure, there are times when we need to be slugs.  When our bodies and mind need rest.  When there is so much going on and our minds are in overdrive, that we find ourselves taking a slug night—-curled up in Jammies, with a mindless book or mindless movie.  But that’s not the kind of slug I’m writing about tonight either.

No, the kind of slug I’m addressing is something I’m having to fight in my own life right now, and maybe you have seasons of fighting it, too.

The verse that applies to this condition of sluggishness is found in the book of Hebrews, in chapter 6:11-12:

11 And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, 12 so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

The point of these verses is to encourage believers to persevere until the end.  The end of what?  The end of life here on this earth, whether we die and go home to heaven, or Jesus returns during our lifetime.

I love the word “earnestness” or “earnest”.  It means to show full seriousness in intention and purpose.  It is deliberate.  It is thought out.  It is real.

The entire book of Hebrews is an encouragement for believers to persevere until the end, but what does that look like?  First and foremost it demands hope.  Doesn’t suggest it, no–it demands it.  We have to have hope in order to persevere to the end, and we have to have the “earnestness to have the full assurance of this hope.”  It is not nothing.  It is not to be taken lightly.

I don’t know about you, but I find that hope tends to be an elusive thing in my life.  I have to intentionally fight for it–fight for what I know is truth to battle the hopelessness that attacks me in the mornings when I’m facing another day.  To battle the hopelessness that attacks me and tells me “You have no future”.  To battle the hopelessness that swirls around me in the middle of the night when I am awakened from a nightmare.  To battle the sin of unbelief, because that’s where hopelessness arises from.

How do we fight hopelessness?  Through spiritual disciplines.  Through service.  Through fighting sluggishness, which we will take a look at next.

Verse 12 hits the nail on the head:  ”so that you may not be sluggish,”.  Good grief.  I know full well this kind of sluggishness.

What does a coach do when he recognizes that his athlete is becoming sluggish?  He typically pushes him or her.  To go farther, to go harder, to go faster.  They would never reach their goal if they were allowed to remain sluggish.  No; and we cannot persevere to the end in hope if we continue in sluggishness.

Instead of being sluggish, we are to be imitators–imitators of “those who through faith and patience inherit the promises”.  Like Abraham (see verses 6:13-15)  Abraham was patient.  He was not sluggish.  He was hopeful.  He persevered, never giving up His belief or faith in God.

What about you?  What about me?  I’m preaching this mostly to myself.  I’m in a very sluggish place right now.  A restless place.  A place where hope is once again elusive.  I don’t want to be here.  I don’t want to give up.  God has brought my crew and I so far, that to give up now would be cowardly.  Would be a waste.  Would be sinful.

But that doesn’t mean that the desire to give up isn’t there.

We must fight this sluggishness, through spiritual disciplines.  Yes, the common ones we think of:  prayer, reading Scripture, attending worship.  But also ones we might not recognize as spiritual disciplines.  Singing.  Worship.  Exercise.  Getting enough rest.  Fellowship with others.  Corporate worship, which I foolishly neglected today in a fog of hopelessness.

I’ll close by saying this:  Tuesday night I start teaching a Bible Study on the book of James.  This is a giant step forward for me.  Because I can’t hide if I’m teaching.  I can’t lock myself away from the world if I am teaching.  I have a responsibility to bring the truth of scripture to a group of ladies, and I take that responsibility very seriously.  I am excited.  But I am also anxious.  Anxious because this will be the most interaction I’ve had with people since my ex-husband was arrested.

I think I am ready.  I know I am ready.  But I also know that only by God’s grace will I be able to stand fast and share from Scripture what He would have us to learn together.

I found this list by Jon Bloom, on how to fight this sluggishness.  I’ve typed it up, printed it out, and tacked it to my board above my desk:

1. Identify the doubt. Sluggishness has a cause. What is sapping your faith?
2. Repent. Unbelief is a sin. Seek to actively turn from it.
3. Target that unbelief with biblical truth. Stop whatever else you may be doing for devotional reading and focus on and pray through texts that deal directly with this issue. Lay aside your other book reading and read things that address this doubt.
4. Don’t go it alone. Humble yourself and share your struggle with trusted counselors God has given you. Our great Coach often speaks through assistant coaches (Hebrews 3:13).

Maybe you are in a sluggish place, too.  Maybe you need to pray the verse in Hebrews 12: 12-13 that I’m praying as I go forward to slay this sluggishness and do what God has called me to do:

12 Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, 13 and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.