Working with God

Hey Friends,

Welp, the awesome hubby's birthday is coming up in a few days, so I thought I'd share an encouraging story from his teen-hood. Take a look and see if you aren't encouraged to work with joy alongside God. And remember, this story is from the hubby's POV.

Dad Versus Godzilla!

“Aw,  com’on Dad, not now,” I groaned.  I shifted my legs across the couch and flipped the channel between an old rerun of Godzilla and the pro bowler’s tour.  I’d only been home for two days and already Dad want
ed me to work on the car.  “It’s Saturday.  Can’t I just relax?”  

“Car’s gotta be fixed,” Dad mumbled and walked back to the garage.  Tools clanked as he began working on the old Chevy Caprice.  

I shook my head and let out a long sigh.  What did Dad want my help for anyway?  He could do just fine without me.  After all, I came home to visit and to have a break from my hectic schedule.  I certainly didn’t intend to get elbow-deep in an old junker.  I flicked the remote control again and watched Godzilla stomp through Tokyo.  Smash, crash, roar ... the same ol’ Godzilla.  I turned off the television and closed my eyes.  

My head bounced as something landed on the couch.  I looked up.  Mom sat about a foot from me with a huge load of laundry piled at her side.  She stared at me for a moment, frowned, then proceeded to fold socks.  

Finally, she put the socks aside.  “You know, he just wants to spend time with you while you’re here,” she murmured.  Then, she stood and returned to the kitchen.

I sat up and thought about Mom’s words.  Could it be that Dad just wanted my company?  I knew that he didn’t need my help.  After all, I knew much less about cars than he did.  But he had still asked to come out to the garage with him.  I had to find out if Mom was right.  Slowly, I got up from the couch and trudged out to the garage.

“Hey Dad,” I muttered.  “Want some help with that?”  

Dad pulled his head out from the engine and wiped the back of one greasy hand over his forehead.  Slowly, a big smile replaced the sad look that had been on his face moments before. “Grab me a five eighths wrench over there,” he motioned to the toolbox with his chin, his hands embedded again in the Chevy’s engine.  

I rolled up my sleeves and retrieved the wrench.  For the rest of the day, Dad and I worked side-by-side, sweating, grunting, and sharing little bits of our thoughts over the old engine.  By the end of the day, my face was as grease-smeared as Dad’s, and I had a long tear in my shirt where the Chevy had gotten the better of me.  But, the time with Dad had been worth it.  Mom was right.  It had been a great day, much better than reruns of Godzilla.

The next day, as I sat in church and listened to the Pastor speak about how God has adopted us as His children, I thought about my day with Dad.  And I wondered, was my Heavenly Father like my earthly one?  God could do anything He wanted without my help.  But maybe He, like Dad, asked me to be involved with the things He was doing just so I could spend time with Him, and come out looking like Him at the end of the job.  Had I been choosing Godzilla over God?

Needless to say, I don’t watch much Godzilla anymore.  When opportunities to work beside my heavenly Father, or my earthly one, come along, I grab the tools and say, “Let’s go!” whether it’s Saturday or not.  

Are you Looking at Life thru a Dirty Window?

Hi Friends,

Are you looking at life this year through a dirty window? A new year is good time to get the windows of your soul clear and sparkly . . .

 Dirty Windows

I sit here thinking about what I should write. What does God want to say through me today? How does he want me to use the images of my life to help myself and others draw deeper into relationship with him? Life has been complex lately. So much to do, so many duties and “musts” crying out for my attention. But now I need to think about this particular patch of grace that I am occupying in this moment. 

So I stare out my window, my fingers resting on the keypad. I shift my gaze left, right, up. Then I notice something. This window is quite dirty. It’s filthy even!

My desk sits so I can look out a beautiful, slanted solarium window. It’s a gorgeous piece of architecture which allows me to gaze out into an oak grove and, past that, to my horse pasture. Theoretically, I have a stunning view. Not only can I see the lush oaks, but I can also see the blue sky through tall pines in the distance. I can see the sometimes-snow-tipped mountains. I can see colorful woodpeckers flitting in the tree branches and horses roaming the pasture.

At least, that’s what I should see.

But I’m not seeing that now. Instead, I’m looking at grime-covered glass, a few smeared cat paw prints at about eye level, and three or four splotches of bird poop. Big, ugly splotches.

And it occurs to me that my window has been this way for a long time. It didn’t get grubby overnight. It’s been months. A lot of months.

I’ve been meaning to clean it, I really have. But I’ve been busy. Other things have taken precedent. Also, it’s not a very nice job so I’ve been avoiding it. I’ve been pretending that everything is okay.

But in the meantime, every day, for hours, I’m missing out on the beautiful view from my office window. Every day, God wants to give me the gift of this breath-taking vista, and because I haven’t cleaned the window, I’m unable to fully enjoy his gift to me. And every day the dirt and grime get a little worse. 

Sometimes life can be like my window. God gives us a beautiful view of his grace, his love, his delight in us and the things around us. It is his gift to us. And yet too often we let the gunk of sin and shame mar our view. We allow bad attitudes, bad habits, negativity, jealousy, comparison, doubt, dislike, and selfishness make smears and poop blobs on the window of our soul until we can barely see God and the beauty he has laid out before us. 

Why don’t we clean the windows of our soul? Why do we let the scum pile up and obscure our vision? Often it’s because we just get too busy to attend to the important business of our inner lives. We have to get to work, get to school, take care of children, go to a meeting, prepare a project, do an assignment, tackle the urgent to-do list while the important matters of our inner health are neglected. So every day the window grows more dim, more yucky. 

            My filthy window testifies to the truth that I have fallen prey to the tyranny of the urgent. But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to see, really see, the view that God has given to me. I want to be like blind Bartimaeus.

Mark 10:46-52 (NIV) tells us that when Jesus passed by Bartimaeus on the road, Bartimaeus cried out, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” The blind man knew he couldn’t save himself. He knew he wasn’t seeing like he should. He knew he was blind. And when Jesus called for him to come, Bartimaeus flung off his only possession, his cloak, and jumped up to go to Jesus. When Jesus then asked him what he wanted, Bartimaeus boldly proclaimed, without a doubt and without a second thought, “Rabbi, I want to see!” 

May we follow in the footsteps of Bartimaeus. May we eagerly throw off everything that hinders us from running to Jesus and regaining our sight. May we know just as clearly what we want, and may we simply say to God, “Lord, I want to see.” I just want to see. 

Today, I need to get out the bucket and rag, and a little vinegar and soap, because I want to see again. I want to see every gift, every bit of beauty, that God places in my life. And more than that, like Bartimaeus, I want to see Jesus.