Category Archives: Hearing from God

The Key to Success

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My 16 month old grandson, Nicholas, has a love affair with keys. Before I came to England I asked Hans, “Would Nicholas like anything from the States?” He answered, “Keys.”

Every child watches his parents use keys to make the car move, open the front door and unlock special places. Nicholas, a quiet, thoughtful child, had been watching and becoming frustrated that no one would turn over their key ring to him.

More than 30 years ago I remember being at an Ace Hardware store near home where I noticed a basket full of keys on the counter. “Help yourself,” the key-maker said. “They’re all duds.” That day I made a key ring for our two year old, Nelson, and it was his favorite toy for weeks.

Last month, after visiting two hardware stores in Michigan and being told I’d have to buy blank keys, I passed an Ace, and sure enough. They were still saving dud keys. “Help yourself,” the key-man said.

I chose car keys, padlock keys, house keys and a motorcycle key. Back home I added a few small luggage keys, then a small silver wrench and put them all on a microphone key-ring in honor of Elvis, one of Nicholas’ daddy’s favorites. When the hefty key ring was finally put into this one year old’s pudgy hands, you’d think I’d given him the keys to a candy store. He lit up with glee and toddled off in search of something to open.

 

I love watching Nicholas work with his keys. His young mind is purring on discovery speed as he tries and tries again to succeed. When he finds a hole to shove one key into and when the heavy key ring stays in place after he lets go of it, he looks at us with his eyebrows raised as if to say, “Did you see that?!” Then he wrestles it out and repeats the process.

Nicholas isn’t even two yet but recognizes the importance of keys, and as adults, we know hanging onto ours is critical. We go to great lengths not to be without them, hiding an extra car key in a magnetic holder under the bumper and putting an extra house key under a rock.

Jesus also acknowledged the value of keys. He used the word picture of a key to talk with his disciples not too long before he was killed, as a way to explain the important plans he had for them. He would be giving them the “keys to his kingdom,” he said, by the power his Spirit would give to build his heavenly kingdom through believers on earth. I’m sure he used the image of a key knowing these men would appreciate its importance.

 

Today Jesus offers all of us an important key, the key to understanding. I’ve often asked the Lord to “open my spiritual eyes” so I can “see” what he’s trying to teach me. As I pray for the readers of this blog, I regularly ask God to open each one’s spiritual eyes to understand exactly what he has in mind to show them. And the beauty of his having the key to understanding is that he also has the ability to answer that prayer.

Nicholas has his own hook on which to hang his keys. The problem comes when we’re ready to hang them up, and they can’t be found. Thankfully, Jesus keeps careful track of his keys, and he doesn’t even need a spare.

”The Lord… will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge. The fear of the Lord is the key to this treasure.” (Isaiah 33:5-6)

Trusting in a Chariot

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Nate was not mechanical and couldn’t fix cars, but in every other respect, he took care of our vehicles. He did the insurance research and payment, had the oil changed on time, made sure the proof of insurance was in each glove compartment, bought new tires, had maintenance check-ups, put the city decal and license plate sticker on each one, became best friends with the man at the body shop and had a strong relationship with the mechanic who kept our cars in working order.

Now that Nate is gone, some of that car-stuff is drifting my way, although Nelson has been intercepting much of it. Today I spent time on the phone developing a bond with Geico Insurance, trying not to sound stupid with my questions. When previous phone conversations are followed by contrary paperwork in the mailbox, its time to get close and personal. I chalked it up to another example of what my widow warriors refer to as the “endless paperwork of widowhood”. But even I know its important to get papers in order for the season of high-risk winter driving.

I grew up in Chicago where we had plenty of snow and ice, but living now on the east side of Lake Michigan, I’m in the path of what weathermen call “lake-effect snow.” This adds new depth (and density) to the word “blizzard.”

My game of slip-‘n-slide with an old minivan after our first snowfall (Dec. 7 blog) convinced me I should begin hunting for a four-wheel drive vehicle. Taking my own poll as our neighbors have driven by, I’ve seen that nine out of ten drivers have chosen crossovers or SUVs. With hilly dunes beneath our asphalt, which is beneath our snow, that makes good sense. In this neighborhood, slippery roads can cause even a quick trip to the post office to be put on hold.

Nelson and I concocted a plan to sell both Nate’s car and mine with the hope of purchasing a small, used 4WD vehicle. Nate’s car sold on Craig’s list in one hour. My van was more of a challenge, its glowing “check engine” light having been on for 4000 miles. Nelson and I began looking at 4×4’s, but everything was too pricey, so I decided to slide through the rest of winter in my van, hoping to buy something ahead of next winter.

But when I tried to get out of the neighborhood, I got stuck on the exit road with its ever-so-slight incline and a stop sign at the top. Even backing up for a running start didn’t work. Heading back to the house on the least hilly streets, I felt like Ma Ingalls. Just like her, I’d probably have to stockpile errands for the first thaw.

Little did I know that God-the-husband was about to solve the problem through my caring brother-in-law Bervin, who is always willing (eager!) to be used by the Lord. On Saturday he drove into our driveway behind the wheel of a big, black Dodge Durango saying, “How ‘bout we go on a test drive?” He and Mary were offering their SUV.

Climbing up into the driver’s seat, I felt ready to conquer any dune! With no effort at all we backed over mounds of snow left by plows and headed for the entrance road, which was a bunny hill to this powerful machine. I felt surrounded in safety. No more slip-‘n-slide games for this girl! “You can use it indefinitely,” Bervin said, “because I won’t need it through the winter.”

Scripture says we’re not to trust in horses or chariots to win our battles, but looking out the front window at my “new” Durango, I’ve got a lot of faith in that chariot. There isn’t much doubt it’ll conquer every snow-challenge winter spits out.

The real security, though, beneath those monster-size tires (Could they be three feet wide?!) is a brother-in-law and sister who are looking out for me, putting my needs ahead of their own. As Scripture says, “Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4) This is very difficult to do, but on Saturday, it got done.

“May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you. May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” (Psalm 20:1,4,7)

Being Paged

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When Nelson was three and Lars two, we lived near a busy shopping mall. I was pregnant with Linnea, looking for ways to use up the boundless energy of two little boys with the hope they’d nap during the afternoon. Once in a while we’d head for the mall, just to play. There were carpeted pits with giant steps for climbing, interesting drinking fountains, a pet store window to watch the animals and an ice cream shop with free tasting.

One snowy day we were at the mall, and the boys were playing happily in the pits while I was window shopping nearby. When Lars arrived at my side asking, “Where Neldo?” I knew we were in trouble.

I glanced down both ends of the long center hall but didn’t see his red hair anywhere. Grabbing Lars’ hand, we loped along as fast as his toddler legs could go, popping into each store along the way. My heart pounded. How could I be so irresponsible about watching the boys?

At a suggestion by one of the clerks, we ran down a narrow hall to the mall offices where we found a security guard with his feet up. “My little boy’s lost! Hurry! He could be anywhere!”

The guard asked several questions before getting up but finally said, “Don’t worry. Usually they go out to the car.”

This was cause for worry, since we were parked in a busy lot where drivers weren’t watching for a small boy darting between cars. A second worry was the icy December day, because I was holding Nelson’s jacket. But he wasn’t outside, so we followed the guard back to his office. “I’ll page him for you,” he said. “Where shall I tell him to meet you?”

This was a three year old! Would Nelson understand, “Report to the security office, Room 102”? If he had wandered to another part of the mall, he’d be like a mouse in a maze trying to find his way back.

My mind raced in an effort to think like a three year old, and my back hurt with the heavy two year old now on my hip. “Tell him to go to the carpeted steps,” I told him, pushing back a horrifying picture of Nelson already in the back seat of a stranger’s car.

As the guard paged Nelson, we heard his message broadcast on loudspeakers, after which Lars and I raced for the pit. Time ticked away. Without a sign of Nelson, I remembered the Walmart-style store at the far end of the mall with its broad, inviting entrance. Grabbing Lars, I jogged the length of the mall, holding back tears. How could I let this happen? What would I tell Nate? Where, oh where was Nelson!

As we approached the store I could see the check-out registers. Sitting atop one of them, conversing with a young woman, was our little boy in his green corduroy pants and checkered sweater, swinging his snow boots back and forth. Grabbing him and squeezing him tight, I cried, “Nelson! Where were you? Oh, I’m so sorry you got lost!”

“I’m not lost, Mama. I’m here,” he said, “and guess what! I was on the radio! They said me on the radio!”

I felt like a big balloon that had just been popped by a long pin as the breath I’d been holding came whooshing out. We put on our coats and headed for home. As far as Nelson was concerned, it’d been a fantastic morning.

Today I spent an hour talking to God and then paused to hear him, listening for his page. It’s hard to be quiet long enough to let him speak, but I kneeled and waited. Henry Blackaby says that after we’ve prayed, we should remain silent but pay close attention to our next thought.

After several minutes, the words “I am able” flooded my mind, and I knew the Lord was paging me. “Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” (Ephesians 3:20)

In those three words, “I am able,” God was telling me he will cover my inabilities with his abilities, and things will work out ok. More than ok, they will be stunning, extravagant, brilliant! Unlike little Nelson who strayed from his parent, I’m planning to stay close to my Father, because when he does what he says he’ll do, I want to be right next to him!

“He is able even to subdue all things unto Himself.” (Philippians 3:20)