Let us stop passing judgment on one another. - Romans 14:3 (NIV)
My Uncle Nick on my mother’s side was an alcoholic that hit bottom—and found God. Not that he didn’t know about God. He was raised in a religious home, but that faith didn’t move from his head to his heart until he woke up in a jail cell, ashamed and vowing his life would be different.
It was. He became an ordained Baptist minister and eventually shared his transformation story with relatives. As a result, family members changed their “head faith” to a “heart faith.” Since I, too, had taken this step, I was thrilled to hear the news.
When his brother Ed died, Uncle Nick came home for the funeral. I hadn’t seen him in decades, since he lived in North Carolina and my folks weren’t the traveling kind. So I was looking forward to talking with him and getting his story firsthand. At the funeral dinner my husband and I sat across from him. The conversation was flowing nicely when Uncle Nick—the Reverend Nick—reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit up. I was aghast! Christians didn’t smoke—did they?
I could have called him a hypocrite and let it go at that. But his transformation was real. His faith was real. And I didn’t want to judge him. After all, he was responsible for my precious Aunt Betty and her family becoming believers. Thanks to him, I knew I’d see them in heaven.
Whether he knew it or not, he’d challenged my faith that day. Was faith real when a professed believer smoked? Or consumed alcohol? Or played cards?
It all comes down to judging others, and God’s Word has plenty to say about that: “Do not judge others,” Jesus said. “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged” (Matthew 7:1, 2). “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone,” he told a crowd ready to stone an adulteress (John 8:7).
The first century church faced a dilemma when believers ate meat offered to idols. Wasn’t it wrong? The apostle Paul addressed both sides of the question. To those who ate meat offered to idols, Paul cautioned them not to cause another believer—one who felt it was wrong to eat meat that had been a part of an animal sacrifice to an idol—to stumble in his faith walk (1 Corinthians 8). To the ones who judged the idol-meat eaters, he posed the question, “Who are you to judge someone else’s servant?” (Romans 14:4)
My Uncle Nick was God’s servant. Who was I to judge him?
It’s easy to cast stones when someone is doing something I don’t approve of. Instead of nurturing a prideful smugness, I need to remind myself, “Let he who is without sin cast the first one.”
Forgive me, Lord, for my critical spirit. Remind me only You have the right to judge. Give me the wisdom to do what pleases You so that I do not cause someone else to stumble. Amen.
Special-Tea: read John 8:1-11, Romans 14, and 1 Corinthians 8
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Connecting the dots
Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. - Psalm 139:16 (NLT)
For the past several months, I’ve been supplying the pulpit for a small local congregation between pastors. “Supplying the pulpit” means that I fill the role of the preacher for the Sunday morning services. Through the week, I read and study the given Scripture, prepare the sermon and a five-minute children’s message, and select the hymns, blessing and benediction—and do a lot of praying.
You see, I’m not an ordained minister or even a certified lay preacher. I’m a Christian writer and speaker. I’ve been writing my weekly column since 1997—that’s nearly 15 years. I’ve studied the Bible through group and personal Bible studies, but the years I taught Good News Club (a children’s Bible club) immersed me in Scripture and taught me more than anything I’ve ever done, even teaching Sunday school.
I’d wanted to be a writer since I was in grade school, but I fell in love with teaching on the first day I student taught. Writing went on the back burner while I taught in the local schools and raised a family. It wasn’t until I was in my forties that I began to take writing seriously. I submitted a story to the Guideposts writing contest. “Wisdom from an Old Refrigerator” didn’t win—but it was published. Encouraged, I submitted more of my work and was published in The Upper Room, Teachers in Focus and Home Life. Sometime during those early years of writing, I envisioned a devotional column in the local newspaper. It took a few years for the vision to become a reality. In 2009 God, Me and a Cup of Tea placed second in the Pennsylvania Newspaper Association’s Keystone Press Awards.
In 2000 and 2002, I published Minute Meditations: Meeting God in Everyday Experiences and I Lift up My Eyes, compilations of some of my columns. That’s what led to speaking, which I found I loved as much as teaching. And the speaking led to the call to fill the pulpit.
Who’d a thunk it? I mean, I was the child who was in trouble almost daily in grade school. I misbehaved in church, throwing my best friend’s gloves over the altar rail at Mass in first grade. When Sister had me sit beside her, I’d wait until everyone had their heads bowed and eyes closed in prayer to pull off the shoes of the student kneeling in front of me. I was the one who, when asked by the parish priest why I was failing religion, answered, “I don’t like religion.”
Looking back on my life, it’s like Someone was connecting the dots all those years. You’ve read it here often—God has a plan and purpose for all of our lives. The older I get, the more convinced I am of that.
He calls us. We respond by either being like Jonah and running as far from God as we can or we move forward into His call.
Me? I’m moving forward—because that’s where all the joy and fun are.
Lord, You know me better than I know myself. Thank you for not only connecting the dots of my life, but also for putting them there in the first place. Amen.
For the past several months, I’ve been supplying the pulpit for a small local congregation between pastors. “Supplying the pulpit” means that I fill the role of the preacher for the Sunday morning services. Through the week, I read and study the given Scripture, prepare the sermon and a five-minute children’s message, and select the hymns, blessing and benediction—and do a lot of praying.
You see, I’m not an ordained minister or even a certified lay preacher. I’m a Christian writer and speaker. I’ve been writing my weekly column since 1997—that’s nearly 15 years. I’ve studied the Bible through group and personal Bible studies, but the years I taught Good News Club (a children’s Bible club) immersed me in Scripture and taught me more than anything I’ve ever done, even teaching Sunday school.
I’d wanted to be a writer since I was in grade school, but I fell in love with teaching on the first day I student taught. Writing went on the back burner while I taught in the local schools and raised a family. It wasn’t until I was in my forties that I began to take writing seriously. I submitted a story to the Guideposts writing contest. “Wisdom from an Old Refrigerator” didn’t win—but it was published. Encouraged, I submitted more of my work and was published in The Upper Room, Teachers in Focus and Home Life. Sometime during those early years of writing, I envisioned a devotional column in the local newspaper. It took a few years for the vision to become a reality. In 2009 God, Me and a Cup of Tea placed second in the Pennsylvania Newspaper Association’s Keystone Press Awards.
In 2000 and 2002, I published Minute Meditations: Meeting God in Everyday Experiences and I Lift up My Eyes, compilations of some of my columns. That’s what led to speaking, which I found I loved as much as teaching. And the speaking led to the call to fill the pulpit.
Who’d a thunk it? I mean, I was the child who was in trouble almost daily in grade school. I misbehaved in church, throwing my best friend’s gloves over the altar rail at Mass in first grade. When Sister had me sit beside her, I’d wait until everyone had their heads bowed and eyes closed in prayer to pull off the shoes of the student kneeling in front of me. I was the one who, when asked by the parish priest why I was failing religion, answered, “I don’t like religion.”
Looking back on my life, it’s like Someone was connecting the dots all those years. You’ve read it here often—God has a plan and purpose for all of our lives. The older I get, the more convinced I am of that.
He calls us. We respond by either being like Jonah and running as far from God as we can or we move forward into His call.
Me? I’m moving forward—because that’s where all the joy and fun are.
Lord, You know me better than I know myself. Thank you for not only connecting the dots of my life, but also for putting them there in the first place. Amen.
Special-Tea: Read Psalm 139
Monday, January 16, 2012
God's call
For God’s gifts and his call can never be withdrawn. - Romans 11:29 (NLT)
Prior to Christmas and Easter, the Catholic grade school I attended took the student body to the adjoining church for the sacrament of confession. I don’t remember what grade I was in when something unusual happened.
I’d just taken my seat in the pew with my class after confession when I sensed a strong pull—a compulsion—to return to the altar rail, where I’d just said my penance—the usual five “Our Fathers” and three “Hail Marys.” Back to the altar I went. I don’t remember what I prayed, but, looking back, it was as though my heart ascended to heaven, my soul infused with fervent devotion and love. I don’t know how long I stayed there on my knees, but when I became aware of my surroundings once again (I say I “came to”), the church was empty. I hadn’t even heard the commotion of my class leaving. And it was a large class, too.
When I returned to the classroom, my teacher said nothing. Which in itself was amazing because I was not the kind of child to be left alone in an empty church. My penchant for fun had gotten me in more than enough trouble through the years. I wasn’t bad, understand—just ornery.
No one asked me why I went back to the altar, and I never told anyone about it. It didn’t seem like anything extraordinary. I didn’t realize the significance of what had occurred. Life went back to normal, and I forgot all about it.
It was during my prayer time one morning about 35 years later that I remembered. I could see myself at that altar rail, my heart ascending to heaven, as though it was happening now. I could feel the devotion, the love. And I finally understood.
God called. I responded.
Through my high school, college, and young adult years, though, I went my own way, not God’s. The choice to follow Him was always mine. It wasn’t until I was a young wife and mother, and life wasn’t turning out the way I’d planned, that I “came to” and returned to the One who had called me so many years earlier.
God didn’t give up on me because I went my own way. He waited patiently until I was ready for all He had planned for me.
These days I live to serve Him in whatever way I can. My life is full. I am abundantly blessed.
Would my life have turned out the way it has if I’d not responded to His call?
I don’t know. But knowing God as I do, I believe He would have kept calling me until I did respond—like He does with everyone.
What about you? Have you responded to God’s call? He’s waiting, you know.
Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening—finally. Amen.
Prior to Christmas and Easter, the Catholic grade school I attended took the student body to the adjoining church for the sacrament of confession. I don’t remember what grade I was in when something unusual happened.
I’d just taken my seat in the pew with my class after confession when I sensed a strong pull—a compulsion—to return to the altar rail, where I’d just said my penance—the usual five “Our Fathers” and three “Hail Marys.” Back to the altar I went. I don’t remember what I prayed, but, looking back, it was as though my heart ascended to heaven, my soul infused with fervent devotion and love. I don’t know how long I stayed there on my knees, but when I became aware of my surroundings once again (I say I “came to”), the church was empty. I hadn’t even heard the commotion of my class leaving. And it was a large class, too.
When I returned to the classroom, my teacher said nothing. Which in itself was amazing because I was not the kind of child to be left alone in an empty church. My penchant for fun had gotten me in more than enough trouble through the years. I wasn’t bad, understand—just ornery.
No one asked me why I went back to the altar, and I never told anyone about it. It didn’t seem like anything extraordinary. I didn’t realize the significance of what had occurred. Life went back to normal, and I forgot all about it.
It was during my prayer time one morning about 35 years later that I remembered. I could see myself at that altar rail, my heart ascending to heaven, as though it was happening now. I could feel the devotion, the love. And I finally understood.
God called. I responded.
Through my high school, college, and young adult years, though, I went my own way, not God’s. The choice to follow Him was always mine. It wasn’t until I was a young wife and mother, and life wasn’t turning out the way I’d planned, that I “came to” and returned to the One who had called me so many years earlier.
God didn’t give up on me because I went my own way. He waited patiently until I was ready for all He had planned for me.
These days I live to serve Him in whatever way I can. My life is full. I am abundantly blessed.
Would my life have turned out the way it has if I’d not responded to His call?
I don’t know. But knowing God as I do, I believe He would have kept calling me until I did respond—like He does with everyone.
What about you? Have you responded to God’s call? He’s waiting, you know.
Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening—finally. Amen.
Special-Tea: Read 1 Samuel 3:1-10
Thursday, January 12, 2012
What 2011 taught me
My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest. - Exodus 33:14 (NIV)
Between Christmas and New Year’s I dreamed that the walls of my home were plastered with 2011 calendars that I was tearing down with a vengeance. It was like I was angry at 2011 and was more than glad it was over.
Repressed emotions? Perhaps.
2011 was a challenging year, but I believe God has a purpose for everything that comes into my life. The challenges were “Michele-shapers” that taught me lessons I couldn’t have learned otherwise.
What did 2011 teach me? Some of the lessons were things I already knew, but the difficulties I experienced deepened their meaning.
1. Being a Christian doesn’t mean I don’t go through difficult times. The rain falls both on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45). I live in an imperfect world with other flawed human beings in a body that, like it not, is decaying daily (2 Corinthians 4:7). But I content myself in knowing my Father in heaven has a plan and a purpose for me (Jeremiah 29:11), and that He loves me and will never abandon me (Hebrews 13:-6).
2. My husband is an angel—no, an archangel. I always knew he was one in a million—that’s why I planned the wedding 38 years ago, then told him about it. Although my pain, weakness, disabilities, and restrictions made me feel useless, he took up the slack in housekeeping, cooking, cleaning, laundry—and made me feel loved and cherished. I realized more than ever that he meant it when he vowed “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.” Our marriage was strengthened in a way that good times cannot do.
3. I learned not only to recognize my limitations, but also to embrace them. Embracing them means I adjust my life and my activities accordingly. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve trimmed my schedule. Some activities, while good, take up the time and energy I need for what God has called me to do. I take naps when I need them and I don’t feel guilty.
4. I don’t have to prove myself. I don’t have to prove my worth. I’m the apple of God’s eye (Psalm 17:8). My husband loves me the way I am, and my children and grandchildren bless me every day. Even though, through the years, they’ve seen me at my worst.
5. I can trust God to set my schedule. I used to worry when I didn’t have enough speaking engagements or writing assignments, but now I realize that God is my agent and manager. My job is to seek Him first, and He will provide all I need—physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
Christmas season 2011 was one of the best in my life. A year that began with pain and suffering ended with more joy than I could hold.
Thank you, Father, for Your abiding presence, abundant provision, awesome plan and able protection. Amen.
Between Christmas and New Year’s I dreamed that the walls of my home were plastered with 2011 calendars that I was tearing down with a vengeance. It was like I was angry at 2011 and was more than glad it was over.
Repressed emotions? Perhaps.
2011 was a challenging year, but I believe God has a purpose for everything that comes into my life. The challenges were “Michele-shapers” that taught me lessons I couldn’t have learned otherwise.
What did 2011 teach me? Some of the lessons were things I already knew, but the difficulties I experienced deepened their meaning.
1. Being a Christian doesn’t mean I don’t go through difficult times. The rain falls both on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45). I live in an imperfect world with other flawed human beings in a body that, like it not, is decaying daily (2 Corinthians 4:7). But I content myself in knowing my Father in heaven has a plan and a purpose for me (Jeremiah 29:11), and that He loves me and will never abandon me (Hebrews 13:-6).
2. My husband is an angel—no, an archangel. I always knew he was one in a million—that’s why I planned the wedding 38 years ago, then told him about it. Although my pain, weakness, disabilities, and restrictions made me feel useless, he took up the slack in housekeeping, cooking, cleaning, laundry—and made me feel loved and cherished. I realized more than ever that he meant it when he vowed “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health.” Our marriage was strengthened in a way that good times cannot do.
3. I learned not only to recognize my limitations, but also to embrace them. Embracing them means I adjust my life and my activities accordingly. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve trimmed my schedule. Some activities, while good, take up the time and energy I need for what God has called me to do. I take naps when I need them and I don’t feel guilty.
4. I don’t have to prove myself. I don’t have to prove my worth. I’m the apple of God’s eye (Psalm 17:8). My husband loves me the way I am, and my children and grandchildren bless me every day. Even though, through the years, they’ve seen me at my worst.
5. I can trust God to set my schedule. I used to worry when I didn’t have enough speaking engagements or writing assignments, but now I realize that God is my agent and manager. My job is to seek Him first, and He will provide all I need—physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
Christmas season 2011 was one of the best in my life. A year that began with pain and suffering ended with more joy than I could hold.
Thank you, Father, for Your abiding presence, abundant provision, awesome plan and able protection. Amen.
Special-Tea: Read Psalm 121
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