Seeing all that we have, it astounds me that I still want more. My kitchen sink is chipped. I want a new one. My floor tile is long out of style. I want to replace it. The carpeting throughout the house is old and, well, not what I would've chosen. I want new carpet. I want, I want, I want. Contentment becomes a casualty of the want more's. I want more!
My husband and I have a great marriage. We have two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. We are all healthy. We own our home. We have two vehicles in the driveway. My husband has his own company. Most of all we have a growing, personal relationship with Jesus Christ. What more could we want?
In Philippians 4, Paul shares that he has "learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Ah, so this contentment thing is learned. He continues, "I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty." Okay, so he's been there. He's done without. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Oh, so there's a secret to this. "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Ah ha. It all comes back to Jesus.
That sounds simple enough. Simple, yes. But never easy.
In the past two years I've had two experiences where I was faced with doing "it" through Christ, in His strength. The first was the birth of our second child. The labor and delivery went perfectly. But a few hours later, for some unknown reason, our sweet baby girl stopped breathing...five times in one hour. I will never forget when the nurse practitioner came to tell us about Jenna's condition. There was no hope in her voice. She was preparing us for the worst. In a moment, the bottom dropped out of our joy and we were free-falling in the black uncertainty of an illness we knew nothing about. We were helpless. All we could do was trust God to do what was best for us and Jenna. All we could do was hold onto Him and His strength. There in that hospital room He became our strength and our peace. He gently carried us through the next ten days as we watched and waited. Finally, on Christmas Eve we brought our precious gift from God home, perfectly healthy.
The second situation happened the following Christmas. After experiencing the temporary loss of my peripheral vision I contacted my doctor to determine if I needed to be examined. I wasn't ready for her response. There was urgency in her voice as she advised me to seek the medical attention of an ophthalmologist as soon as possible. Her concern? Multiple Sclerosis.
Because of the Christmas holiday, I had to wait a full week for the appointment. During that week, my husband and I considered all the implications that accompany MS. Would I end up in a wheelchair? Would it be a minor inconvenience or a major change in every aspect of our lives? We assumed the worst then hoped for the best.
The interesting thing about that week was that although I constantly mulled over the questions, internally I was filled with indescribable joy and peace. For probably the first time in my life I was truly thankful for my mobility, agility and independence. The sky seemed to be bluer than ever before. The trees, although brown and bare, were beautiful to me. I laughed more that week, enjoying the little things that so often went unnoticed.
As it turned out, what I had experienced was not MS, but a minor inconvenience, the result of stress. What could have been a diagnosis of disability, became a rare and precious gift. For Christmas God had given me the gift of His strength, His joy, His peace, even in the face of fear.
I promised myself I wouldn't let the preciousness of that gift fade. I promised myself I wouldn't forget how blue the sky was or how thankful I was for those things in my life I had always taken for granted.
Even so it wasn't long till discontentment began to ease it's way back into my thinking. The kitchen sink was still chipped. The carpet still stained. But God has been true to Himself, and to me, in that He has gently reminded me about true contentment. And now I, like Paul, can say I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. The interesting thing is that need and plenty have been redefined. My need is to lean on Jesus no matter what the circumstances. Plenty smiles at me every morning from her crib and plenty fills my legs with strength as I walk over to pick her up. I still need reminders, but I can honestly say, I am learning the secret.
-by Mary Lawrence Comm
Seeing that the man was showing signs of discouragement, Satan decided to enter the picture placing thoughts into the man's mind such as; "You have been pushing against that rock for a long time and it hasn't budged. Why kill yourself over this, you are never going to move it? etc." Thus, giving theman the impression that the task was impossible and that he was a failure.
These thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man even more. " Why kill myself over this?" he thought. "I'll just put in my time, giving just the minimum of effort and that will be good enough." And that he planned to do, until one day he decided to make it a matter of prayer and take his troubled thoughts to the Lord. "Lord" he said, "I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, I have not even budged that rock a half a millimeterWhat is wrong? Why am I failing?"
To this the Lord responded compassionately, "My friend, when long age I asked you to serve me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against the rock with all your strength, which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push. And now you come to me, your strength spent, thinking that you have failed. But, is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewed and brown, your hands are callused from constant pressure and your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition you have grown much and your abilities now surpass that which you used to have. Yet you haven't moved the rock. But your calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and trust in My wisdom. This you have done. I, my friend, will now move the rock."
As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors-- Mom taught me to love the word of God, and Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours each evening.
If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the present, and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he could draw were so life like that I would often laugh or cry as I watched.
He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie stars. My brother and I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.
The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn' t seem to mind-but sometimes Mom would quietly get up-- while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places-- go to her room, read her Bible and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.
You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house-- not from us, from our friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional four letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - not even for cooking. But the stranger felt 1ike we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcoholic beverages often.
He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (too much too freely) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes sugestive, and generally embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.
As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.
More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to walk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.
His name? We always just called him "TV."
I said, "Blessed are the poor in Spirit."
The computer printed, "Breathless are the four who spear it."
I said, "The meek shall inherit the earth."
The computer printed, "The geek's mail is inherently mirth."
And so goes my experience with this great new "Voice Recognition System." The advertisement said the software would recognize my voice after only a few hours of "teaching" the computer the sound and tone of my voice. So far, I am not impressed.
"The watchman opens the gate for him and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice." (John 10:3-4)
The scene was chaotic. Hundreds of sheep gathered in the holding pen outside the corral where the spring sheepshearing was to take place. The shepherds had brought their sheep from all over the surrounding countryside and gathered them together in the holding pen. The time came to begin the shearing process and the first shepherd simply stepped into the corral and called for his sheep. From the hundreds of sheep there, only a few dozen came forward. Only the ones that belonged to that shepherd; only the ones that recognized his voice.
The scene was chaotic. Thousands of people hurrying through their lives. Fish to be caught, taxes to be collected, Romans to be subverted, lives to be lived. People from every walk of life focused on earning their next meal or building their next barn. Then a Shepherd stepped into the crowd and called out. From the thousands of people there, only a few came forward. Only the ones that desired to belong to the Shepherd. Only the ones that recognized His voice.
The scene is still chaotic. Millions of people hurrying through their lives. Meetings to attend, plans to be made, vacations to be enjoyed, lives to be lived. People chasing their goals and dreams. The Shepherd continues to call out. From the millions, still only a few come forward. Only the ones that recognize His voice.
"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me." (John 10:27)
God's voice, like the kind and caring voice of a loving shepherd, is calling you to a deeper knowledge of Him today. Pause for a moment and listen...then follow the Shepherd.
-By Ellis Bush, Jr.
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