Saturday, December 2, 2017

Come to the Table.....

Listening to Worship music yesterday, singing along with “come to the table, The father’s arms are open wide”, a question ran through my mind the rest of the evening.
How do we all fit at this table? Where is my place at the table? Will there be room for me? WilI I have to sit at the children’s table? Will I get to see Jesus, or will i even get to be close to him, hear him speak, bow before him, touch his garment.
I thought about the billions of souls at the table, most with Better qualifications than I to be seated there. Those that have gone on before, who’s legacy we study, sermons we hear, whose faith we try to emulate. The apostles, and the other followers of Jesus 2000 years ago, those that were persecuted for their faith soon after his death and resurrection. There are people all over the world dying for Their faith. Down through the ages, the faithful have walked through the gates of heaven And are seated at the table. The more recent men and women who have written books, preach sermons, walked the walk.  Smith Wigglesworth, John G Lake, Corrie Ten boom, Billy Graham, Mother Theresa. Pastors, teachers, martyrs, and prophets, most whose names we will never know. But I do know that these are far more worthy than I, they lived a higher life than I live, done more, given more.  I struggle with Temptation and sin daily. I stumble and fall often. Yes, I know a Grace abounds, I am forgiven, I am washed in the blood of Jesus Christ.
I am assured of heaven, but have been wondering how I will find my way to a place at the table, and to a place at the feet of Jesus. There are so many others who also want a place at his feet. How can there be enough room, how can there be a big enough table, how do we all fit?

I had never thought about heaven this way before. I guess I saw A much simpler place....Just me and Jesus.  But the song I sang along with on the radio really got me thinking and wondering just how huge it must be. And, to answer the question long as I am there, it doesn’t matter where my place is at the table. I know that i will be standing in the presence of my Savior. This is just another mystery, and I will wait patiently for it to unfold. And from now until that day, I will strive to become more like Jesus. 

Sunday, September 17, 2017

A Note to my Pastor

Your message this week hit me in the heart, as it is something that I have been thinking and praying about  for some time.  The "take home" message for me, was that I need to be doing what I was called to do when Jesus returns.  Convicted, big time, on that point. But, keeping that thought in the front of my mind will make a difference.
My desire is to be more of a servant, a light, to be His hands and feet, and am always amazed when I am used by God, in even a small way, to minister to others. I'm such a broken vessel. I stumble and fall so often each day.  I'm selfish and lazy and greedy....but, then there is a moment when an opportunity presents itself to share or give to someone else, and I see God working through me....and I'm amazed.  Me...He uses Me!  Like the other day, I gave a ride to a young woman who was walking down our country road crying after a fight with her boyfriend. I had been sitting on my porch, but felt led to jump in the car and offer her a ride to wherever she wanted to go. For a few minutes we talked   about  all the natural disasters and I shared thoughts on salvation, repentance, and grace. I loved her willingness to listen, and hope I planted or watered a seed.  Following God's leading.....that little voice.....gave me that amazement. He uses me!  Broken Me!  She has my phone number now.
Your message drove the lesson home for me yesterday.  It was confirmation. He will use even me, if I am willing to listen and act. And, in doing what I am called to do, I find joy and am drawn closer to Him.  Win-win.  

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Learning to Live

At first, the tasks before me seemed overwhelming, insurmountable.  My husbands death left me broken, and now, solely responsible for our small ranch with its older home, livestock, fencing and fields. 
Everything seemed to go wrong right away. appliances and fences broke down. winter brought snow that needed plowing and vehicles that needed service. My grief was dark and deep, and I was immobile facing the work before me.  
 A small light appeared when someone suggested that I try to do just five things each day.  That could be a reasonable goal if getting out of bed and getting dressed counted as the first two. I must admit that some days, that's all that I accomplished. 
Soon, I found videos that walked me through the repairs on the refrigerator, and the car. The tractors owners manual taught me how to run the plow and other attachments. My fence building skills improved each time I needed to repair a section or two. I learned to know the difference between doing the things I could do and getting help with the rest.   I mercilessly picked the brains of friends and neighboring farmers for advice and instruction. Asking for help of any kind has always been hard, but I have learned that people want to lend a hand, or an ear, or a shovel.  
As months progressed, I felt pride in the things that I was able to accomplish.  I could see that there was always a solution to the problem, either on you tube or next door. I have learned that I am stronger and more capable than I thought I could be.  I am independent but humble, because I need the people around me for support.