As a child I talked to Jesus all the time ~ especially when I was sick, which was at least a couple months a year. I got strep throat with every change of weather. My nose tickled for weeks at a time. I was constantly scrunching up my face, twisting my mouth, and wiggling my nose to try to make it stop. So I was give yucky-tasting yellow medicine to get rid of my “tic.” I had terrific allergies, but no one realized that was the cause.
Banished to bed for weeks at a time, I read a lot and lived in my imagination. Often I’d stretch out on the bed, curtains wide open on my large window, and talk to Jesus. By day I’d ask if he was riding a particularly fluffy cloud. By night I’d ask if that bright star was him and was he coming down to earth.
I’ve no idea where these thoughts and questions came from. When I was 4 my parents joined a Presbyterian church where I was baptized. I went to Sunday School – or I think I did. Though I have a pretty good memory and remember things about my toddler years that surprise even my family, I have zero recollection of classes. I do remember standing in church next to my mother and loving when we’d sing the Doxology. The organ thundered the powerful, lively music; and I thought Mom’s voice was lovely. But I have no memory of actually being in children’s classes.
Grow in Christ bookends from Guymon
We didn’t discuss Sunday morning sermons at home. In fact, Sunday was the day my father would take me and my girlfriends (Catholic, so we weren’t in church together) for banana splits or sundaes at the ice cream stand in town.
So church and the Bible were not part of my daily fare. I did go to Vacation bible School summers when I’d visit cousins in Oklahoma (hence these ancient bookends). And one Christmas I was given a children’s Bible story book ~ typical narrative recounting of Bible miracles. The book long ago met its demise in a flood or a flurry of mother’s spring cleaning. I have no idea how accurate the stories were.
As apparently minimal as my exposure to God was, in my heart we were close. I knew He was near, watched over me, and listened when I talked to him. How does one explain this?
I can’t.
I believe it’s a God thing. God never ignores a sincere seeker and is particularly tender with children. I believe he communicates with them in ways they can understand. And in Psalm 73:23 Asaph says he is always with God, so close that God holds Asaph’s right hand. That sounds as reasonable to me as any reason that I sensed God so intimately. And maybe that’s why, despite efforts to force me to use my other hand, I grew up left-handed!
Looking over your life, can you see: Was God ever taking care of you ~ even though you didn’t see it at the time?
I’m praying we have the vision to see God at work in our lives, our families, our world. Would love if you’d share ways you’ve seen God’s presence when you look back.
Karl and Sandy went to see the dog, learned the vet’s prognosis, and discussed if they could afford the expected $2000+ for the surgeries. Apparently this frightened animal had been hit and dragged by a vehicle, assaulted by a pack of coyotes, and been limping around scrounging for food for a month. For some reason, they told the vet to fix the damaged and dislocated hip, clean his wounds, surgically repair where his tail had been severed, and do the dental and plastic surgery to his muzzle so he could eat and drink normally.
After weeks of recovery, the dog, still so accustomed to being unable to use his left hind leg, he never tried to do so after healing. The kids took to gently rubbing and stretching it, and using a trick they learned about. By leaving the leash on even while in the house, the dog was often forced to use the leg he was favoring. They very tenderly encouraged, coaxed, and comforted while trying to make the dog do something he clearly did not want to do.
In Jesus Calling, Sarah Young writes (as if Jesus’ words) “You are really just beginning your journey of intimacy with Me. It is not an easy road, but … The Glory of My Presence glistens … along the way. Hardships are part of the journey too. I mete them out ever so carefully, in just the right dosage, with a tenderness you can hardly imagine. …”
Who among us hasn’t fantasized of some highly visible way we’d like to be heroic? Maybe rescue someone from a burning car. Or pull a drowning child from an icy pond. Isn’t some daydream touched when you hear about the three American men, friends from their youth, who restrained a terrorist on the Paris-bound train and were awarded the Legion of Honor Medal?
They look like my friend Clarice getting lost in the hospital parking garage visiting her husband who is fighting leukemia. They look like being asked to provide an excuse for your boss when s/he’s late to a meeting. Getting your finger slammed in the closet door. Knocking over the bottle of olive oil.
For most of us the majority of days are of the mundane variety with the occasional fire-cracker, red-letter day thrown in. But masterpieces are mostly created that way.
How are things going for you in this new year? Had any hopes, dreams, buildings raised ~ and then dashed?
But before you decide to just park, may I offer you a different vision?
Often “dead-ends” are meant to make us pause, look around, evaluate. Not quit. But if we stop in our tracks when we see the closed gate ahead and sit down, we’ll never see the new path, new sights, joys, mercies, or miracles that wait just over the horizon.
Are you needing guidance from God? Perhaps a word of encouragement, hope, or comfort? Sunday Johnnie Morris preached an encouraging message from Leviticus. (Yes, encouraging. Yes, Leviticus.) One point was ~
My word for 2016 is 
So how’s your year been? Are you ending it with satisfaction? Disappointment? Looking at my long to-do list for 2015, I think I haven’t checked off nearly enough. Big issues needed tackling. Big goals to accomplish. And despite thousands of tasks completed, big things remain. Honestly, I could be discouraged. You too?