Blooming in the snow

We’ve had a long, cold winter in northern Indiana this year. Folks have been grousing about it forever. It even snowed on April 14, and how unfair is that?

But way back on March 25 I looked out my window toward the back of a neighbor’s house and saw these forsythia bushes in full bloom. In the snow. The forsythia we have wasn’t even showing signs of life (and even now hasn’t yet bloomed). The crocus hadn’t come up. Nothing else was looking springy.

They seemed to be saying that their contract stipulated that they were to come out at the end of March, so there they were, as promised. What everybody else was doing was unimportant. The weather was irrelevant.  They had their calling. This is what they were created to do, and they were faithful.

It didn’t even matter that as far as they could know, nobody would see them. The man who rents the house doesn’t get out into the back yard. Except for me, the nosy neighbor, nobody would care if they bloomed or not. But I got the idea that they had bloomed just for me. They were my encouragement that spring was coming, a bit of color in the black and white world.

They were also my encouragement to get on with what I was called to do. Even though I would be the odd-ball doing something weird. Even though the “time was not right”. Even if nobody much cared whether I did it or not or even noticed. It might encourage someone, who knows? Or I could just get the satisfaction of being myself.

What have you been created for? What are you called to do? Are you doing it?

Maybe the climate isn’t right. Maybe you’re the only one who would be doing it. Maybe nobody would notice if you did. What if none of that was important? What if you were true to yourself?

What if you were the encouragement someone needed to keep them going?

Would it be worth it to bloom in the snow?

The cheese, the baguette and the papaya

Once upon a time, more years ago now than I care to admit in public, I received a phone call that led me into experiencing a miracle.

I was relaxing at home in Costa Rica with our children, while my husband was away accompanying some North American young people who had come for a short term missions experience. The phone call was from my husband, who told me that the whole crew was on the way to our house for a meal. Nobody had warned me about this, and I had less than half an hour to prepare.

We were used to offering hospitality, which I suppose is why Edwin felt free to invite them over to eat, since he logically assumed that I would have something to serve. Unfortunately I didn’t. A quick inventory of the kitchen produced less than a pound of cheese, a day-old baguette, and a papaya. That wouldn’t be much to serve two full carloads of guys, especially since they had been outside working all day and would have impressive appetites. My first thought was to run over to the little corner grocery store and get a few things, but that was impossible since it was Saturday afternoon and the store was closed. I couldn’t drive off to the supermarket, either, because Edwin had the car.

So I set the table nicely, as though there would be some sort of banquet, and started cutting up the papaya into cubes. Fortunately papayas in Costa Rica are large. Then I sliced the baguette, almost paper thin, and laid a small square of cheese on each piece. I thought that if I toasted them in the oven it would not be so noticeable that the bread was a bit stale, or that there wasn’t really much cheese. Actually the fact that the bread was old and a bit dry made it easier to cut thin slices.

The guests arrived, and began guzzling the fresh lemonade I had made from the fruit of the tree we had in the back yard. I kept slicing that baguette and the cheese, toasting them, and putting them out on the table. I kept two cookie sheets busy for quite some time producing these miniature sandwiches. Finally the demand slowed down, and there were a couple left uneaten on the serving plate. Everyone declared that they were comfortably full. A short time later they were off on their next adventure.

As I cleaned up I suddenly realized what had happened. I am not sure this long after the fact how many people there were, but ten is the most likely number, plus our little family of five. Everyone ate and was satisfied, and I still had bread, cheese, and papaya left over.  

Where it came from, I don’t know. All I know is that when I went to cut more bread and cheese there was more bread and cheese to cut.

Now when I read the stories of Jesus feeding the five thousand and the four thousand, they don’t seem strange at all. Whatever He wants to do can be done with whatever He provides.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine

We call it communion, communion with Jesus, and communion with other believers. We get to share the cup and the bread together, remembering Jesus’ sacrifice for us and celebrating the fact that we are the body of Christ here on earth now.  Jesus Himself told us to do it in remembrance of Him.

When I was a new believer I didn’t know much about this formal

meal, but I did know that when people sit down together to talk they frequently have a coffee. So I started having coffee with the Lord each day. We would just sit down together and He would give me input through my Bible reading and I would talk to Him. There wasn’t usually chocolate, but I put that in the picture to show how much fun it is to have this together-time.

When the Lord called my husband and me to serve Him in Costa Rica, some people were telling us that we were going to be poor, undoubtedly living on veggies and water. Not so! As far as physical

food was concerned, our whole family liked black beans and rice so much that our kids referred to them as “real food” (as opposed to the fake stuff served in the US of A). As far as communion with the Lord went, we feasted on having Him direct us and seeing Him heal and turn people around.

In Psalm 16:5, David says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.” Talk about secure! He has assigned me my portions of physical food even when it didn’t look like there could be any. (Remind me to tell you about the time when I fed a houseful of hungry teenagers with a papaya, a day-old baguette and half a pound of cheese). And He’s still available to talk whenever I cut out of the demands on my life and sit down to have a chat with Him.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine—and Thou.

Why does it take so long?

I am so ready for this snow to disappear. The white stuff that was a beautiful novelty in December is still beautiful, especially when the morning sun tints it with gold. But it is no longer a novelty. The street lights glinting off the fresh snow at night sparkle like the fake snow on Christmas cards. But Christmas was a long time ago.

Instead of being excited this morning when a couple of inches more of fluff floated down, I got to wondering what it would be like to potter around in the garden. Hidden down under there are roses, and strawberries, and iris, and phlox, and foxglove. Thistles and dandelions are there, too, of course, but at least they are green. We haven’t seen any green in ever so long.

God promised that the seasons would always change as planned, that seed time and harvest time would not fail. But here it is March 5, and I want to know why it’s taking so long. Maybe the meteorologists know the answer, but they’re not talkin’.

Other promises are waiting to be fulfilled, too. I’d like to be out of this transitional period I’m in and settled in new ministry. Various prophets are saying that 2014 is going to be a year of growth, of fire, of breakthrough, of going to new levels. But it seems to me like they said that about 2013, too. And 2012.

Why is it taking so long?

Just like I want to see the plants now lying dormant under all that snow, I want to see God’s people walking in grace and community and bringing healing and peace to this weary and rebellious world. What is keeping the layers of confusion and sin and hurt in power, both within the church and without? I am discontent with this winter of deadness.

So I am looking at seed catalogs and reviewing what needs to be done for the lawn when the snow melts. Because it has to, sooner or later. I am also getting ready what I need to have in place when God starts waking people up. He’s going to need fully-equipped gardeners. I want to be ready.

However long it takes.

And the bush was not consumed

At first I thought it just wasn’t right to have a fire in the fireplace without the logs burning up. At my house we can do that because the logs are ceramic and the fire is fueled by gas. It is very convenient because we don’t have to clean up the ashes afterward. But it’s not quite right.

Apparently Moses thought the same thing. When he was out in the desert he saw a bush which seemed to be on fire, but there was something wrong with it. The bush was not burned up. According to the story in Exodus chapter 3, he went to investigate and found God’s presence in the bush.

Above the main entrance to a Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City is the inscription “AND THE BUSH WAS NOT CONSUMED”.  When God choses to be in something or someone, the thing or person is not consumed. The fire, its light and power and heat, is provided by God and does not damage the person or object where it rests.

When people get “on fire” and become passionate about politics, social action, ecology, or any other worthy cause, they can be eaten up personally by their work. Especially in the helping professions, such as medicine, counselling, teaching, or any form of public service, people often “burn out”. They get used up, lose their energy and interest (and perhaps their health and close relationships), and want to quit.

But the fire of God doesn’t burn us up. When God sent the Holy Spirit to the believers for the first time, tongues of fire appeared over the heads of each one (Acts chapter 2). Far from being consumed, they were energized and empowered. Peter stood up and preached a sermon where 3,000 people were converted. The result was a movement which became the Church.

People get fired up by the Spirit today, also. This is actually what God wants to do with all of us. The Spirit enables us to love the Lord passionately and serve Him with enthusiasm and power. If we carefully follow the direction of the Spirit, we don’t burn out. We turn out to be very much more than we were before. We’re even more our real selves.

But it often happens that we are tempted to do more than what we were called to do. Or, worse, to do things that are actually harmful. Yes, you can burn out. Years ago I was given an oil lamp, which often smoked. The wicks didn’t seem to last very long, either. Then I learned that I was adjusting the lamp wrong, so it was actually burning the wick instead of the oil. When I discovered how to trim it back, it gave more light and the wick lasted as it should have.

Christians often do burn out. Pastors, missionaries, teachers, counselors, all face the temptation to do more than they are called to do, to take on burdens they were not meant to carry. They want to help, and can end up destroying themselves. Jesus invites them to come to Him, and He will give them rest for their souls and bodies.

God invites us to be on fire with the Holy Spirit because He loves us and wants to be in us. But He won’t burn you up.