A Dynamite Defense

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My dog Jack and I love walking the quiet lanes of our neighborhood and are familiar with every block. He knows where the good smells are and prefers certain bushes. I like picking out the places where fiddle ferns and daffodils will soon flourish.

But for Jack, his favorite part of any walk is spotting small animals. He asked if we could name the areas where they hang out, since he looks forward to chasing them so much (despite never catching any). So now as we walk, we pass Critter Crossing, Squirrel Meadow, ‘Possum Pass, and Deer Forest.

At nighttime, the narrow roads are quiet, animals tucked into their nests awaiting dawn. But last night at ‘Possum Pass, Jack got a treat. When he stopped ambling and started running, I knew he’d seen something move up ahead, and by the time I caught up, he was playing with a light grey ‘possum the size of a football, nosing it to move and wagging his tail with anticipation.

But ‘possums play possum in response to imminent danger, and a giant dog bounding in your direction definitely qualifies. This one was lying down, stiff and silent, allowing Jack to nudge him without so much as twitching an ear. When Jack realized a chase wasn’t imminent, he lost interest, and the ‘possum had cleverly avoided an attack.

We can’t, however, give the ‘possum credit for making the decision to play dead. Playing possum is an involuntary response to danger, and these critters can’t help but do it. The process involves baring their teeth, going rigid, drooling, and emitting a smell much like rotting road kill. They can even be picked up and carried but won’t so much as quiver. (I have to give Jack credit for trying to be friendly in the face of that many negatives.)

I looked at the ‘possum and thought, “Not too smart, playing dead while the mouth of a potential diner investigated your body. People would never do anything that stupid.”

But then I thought about God’s point of view. The ‘possum was doing exactly as he’d been instructed, but what do we do? The dumbest thing ever: we ignore God’s instruction. And how often do we do it? Every day.

Despite that foolhardiness, our loving God offers to help. Just as he gives every animal a defense mechanism (like the instinct to play possum), he gives people the very best defense mechanism of all: himself. He offers to personally be our Defender in the ongoing battle for our souls. He defends not just from visible enemies but invisible ones, too, those that are more difficult to overcome. He protects, guards, shields, and preserves us in our struggle.

We don’t deserve it, but he does it anyway, hoping we’ll follow his instructions at least as well as the ‘possum does.

“The Lord is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.” (Exodus 15:2)

Frightening Footprints

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We widows like to tell ourselves we’re strong and aren’t afraid to live alone. But during a night when we can’t sleep, fear creeps around the edges of our minds, and we wish our men were still lying next to us. Not that they would have always known what to do, but two heads are usually better than one.

Last night as I was putting my head on the pillow, I heard an unfamiliar thump coming from downstairs. It was almost 1:00 am, too late for company, and Jack had been asleep in his doggie bed for an hour before I’d gone upstairs.

Unwilling to let myself get spooked by what might be nothing, I prayed, and God quickly reminded me he doesn’t ever try to scare us and can protect us from fright. I decided I’d abandon myself to his care, no matter what the noise was, and shortly thereafter fell asleep.

This morning as Jack and I were returning from a walk, we decided to use the front door instead of our usual back, and I got a shocker. In an inch of snow from yesterday, there were mysterious footprints walking up my front steps. They gave me a start, and I froze. Had someone tried to get into the house last night? Was that what I’d heard?

As I studied the prints, I noticed they had an interesting grid pattern. And then it hit me. The mysterious footprints were mine, steps made last night after walking Jack. And suddenly I felt foolish.

But this is how it goes with widows. As we practice living alone, we’re breaking new ground we never wanted to cover, and runaway thinking is one blip away from common sense. God knows this and has prepared a slew of promises for our use when panic hits. Sometimes he even lays the groundwork ahead of time for nights like last night.

For example, yesterday morning Louisa shared a valuable verse with me from Isaiah: “You [Lord] will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!” (26:3) Naturally, then, those same words rushed into my head when I was feeling vulnerable.

Our God is practical. He promises to deliver us when we need it, and when we’re nervous, he guarantees he’ll calm us if we ask him. That’s true for everybody, not just widows. He doesn’t want any of us to live on edge but does understand how emotions can get in the way of sound reasoning. It’s comforting to know he’s always got a battle plan in order and wants to see us victorious over nervousness and fear, whenever it strikes.

As for that strange noise during the night? After a thorough house inspection, I’ve decided I’ll never know. Maybe it was God simply giving me one more opportunity to trust him.

“If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you.” (Psalm 91:9-10a)

Rock or Sand?

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When we were kids, we used to sing a Sunday school song straight out of Matthew 7: “The wise man built his house upon the rock, and the rains came tumblin’ down.”

I always liked singing the 2nd verse better than the 1st, because it gave us a chance to make a loud noise: “The foolish man built his house upon the sand… The rains came down, and the floods came up, and the house on the sand went SMASH!”

The song quoted a teaching of Jesus when he used two word pictures taken from his listeners’ common experience. Anyone who’d ever built a house would have understood his analogy: rock makes a better foundation than sand, any day. Then Jesus introduced himself as the Rock.

I love rocks. My basement shelves are full of them, each one picked up along Lake Michigan’s shoreline and appreciated for its beauty. If I could build a house of those stones, I would. They speak to God’s vast creativity and are a powerful testimony of the remarkable earth he made.

Today at church I was challenged by Pastor Lindsay’s insightful sermon about stones, rocks, bricks and the church. Back at home, I found myself standing in front of our old stone fireplace, put together in 1938. The odd-shaped pieces, fashioned with chisel and hammer, had been fit together in a way that lets it rise through two stories and a roof, and reach even farther as a chimney. None of it has moved a smidgen in 74 years.

I can’t imagine the weight resting on those bottom stones, yet because they’re rocks, they’ve had no trouble holding up the whole structure. I thought of the shifting sands down at the beach today, continually changing shape in the wind, and the Sunday school chorus made perfect sense. Rock trumps sand for foundation purposes.

As I studied my fireplace, I thought of something our pastor said. Sand, when fused together, can be made into bricks, which can then be combined to build giant cathedrals. The unstable can become stable. After all, when inspected under a magnifying glass, sand is simply tiny rocks.

Christianity is all about many people becoming one family, one Church, and the unstable (sand) becoming stable (bricks). Every individual who loves and follows Christ is unified (and stabilized) through Jesus, who is called the cornerstone, the most important rock in any building. My father was an engineer/architect and used to tell us the cornerstone was insurance that the rest of the building would be “square with the world.”

And isn’t that exactly what Jesus did? He laid his life down and became the foundation, the cornerstone, on which the Church was built. Then he offered to change the rest of us from sand into sturdy bricks who together can build lives on him.

And when the storms come against his Church, against us, “The house on the Rock will stand firm!”

“You… are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.” (Ephesians 2:22)

Messy Motives

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All of us have days when we work hard but accomplish little. One of my daily prayer requests is for God-prompted efficiency, but it doesn’t always pan out that way.

Today, my first day back from England, I’d hoped to get much accomplished and started the laundry first thing. It wasn’t long, though, before I got distracted by other chores, and inefficiency took over. When I finally got back to the wash machine hours later, I opened the lid and groaned. I’d forgotten to check my pockets, and the black wash was dotted with hundreds of tiny, sticky bits of wet Kleenex.

As I lifted the clothes from the washer, pieces of matted tissue flicked onto me and the rug, and also back into the wash tub. I stood and picked at the clothes for a long time before putting them in the dryer, berating myself for such inefficiency.

Then later, on the fourth load, the very same thing happened! Hundreds more pieces of wet tissue had to be picked off of more clothes, inefficiency on steroids.

Isn’t sin much like that? We tuck away a little something negative and figure we’ll take care of it later. It may stay hidden for weeks or even years without causing any trouble, and we may even have forgotten about it. Then suddenly it makes a reappearance that looks nothing like the original. It’s bigger, stickier, a problem multiplied to the point of requiring major damage control.

Most of us find it hard to always do things right. We’re better at cutting corners, fudging the truth, and enjoying corrupt thoughts. Even when we know we’re on a path we shouldn’t be, we’re reluctant to get back on track right away. We say, “Yes, I’ll definitely correct that, just not right now.”

I’d like to think that after we make enough messes, we’ll learn not to repeat our mistakes. But my wash day mayhem proves otherwise. Intentions are one thing, actions another.

Thankfully, God wants to help. He starts each of us off with a tender conscience and urges us to pay attention to it. If we ignore his promptings, we can count on extensive clean-up later.

But every new day offers another chance to do things well. Just as my dryer’s lint screen caught many of the tissue bits on my clothes, God makes sure our sin catches us, then sees that we deal with the consequences. But after we clean up our messes, his offer is always for a new chance to try for righteous living.

Maybe a good prayer at the start of each day isn’t a request for efficiency but for a passion to do things right the first time around.

“The Lord will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart.” (1 Corinthians 4:5)

Homeland Security

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Traveling in and out of foreign countries can be tricky, and the best idea is to cooperate with those in charge. At official airport checkpoints, it’s wise not to speak until spoken to and then to give short, succinct answers. Forget the ad libs, the cute quips, the attempts to be friendly.

This morning as I left England, I was ushered through 3 airport security checkpoints by uniformed officials in search of eye contact and honest statements. As I waited in line, I worried about several things. Would they be irritated by the orange in my carry-on, since fruit in luggage is a no-no? I remembered being lectured long ago because a banana peel had been in my bag hours earlier. Its lingering scent won me a bag inspection.

Displaying my clear plastic quart-sized baggie with small gels and lotions in it, I approached checkpoint number two thinking I’d covered all the bases. Then I remembered the lip balm in my coat pocket.

Watching the woman in front of me get frisked and then endure a pocket check, I pictured myself in an empty room asking for one phone call. Thankfully I made it through that one, but while sitting at the gate, one more check occurred. Several men arrived with leashed dogs trained to sniff bags, encouraging them to walk slowly past each of us… twice.

I couldn’t wait to board the plane that was sitting just outside the airport window, the one with “American Airlines” written along the side. After feeling like airport officials had been searching for a way to exclude me, that airplane represented the end of judgments and the beginning of warm acceptance.

After I was finally buckled into seat 33A, the plane took off and flew across the entire Atlantic Ocean above a carpet of fluffy white clouds. That heavenly scene pulled my thoughts to spiritual judgment and the harsh exclusion I deserve because of repeated sins. What will it feel like to stand in front of Jesus with that kind of record? Although airport officials had a certain measure of power over me today, Jesus will have far more on that day.

But the glorious truth is that when I arrive in paradise at life’s final checkpoint, the Jesus in front of me will have already given me clearance because of arrangements made long ago when he took my rejection upon himself. And from everything I read in Scripture, when I stand in front of him, I’ll experience the warmth of an acceptance like I’ve never known.

Today at my very last checkpoint, the one inside in the United States, an immigration officer looked me in the eye and said, “Welcome home.” That felt pretty good, but when Jesus says it, it’s going to be downright spectacular, the ultimate in homeland security.

“Adam’s sin led to condemnation, but God’s free gift leads to our being made right with God, even though we are guilty of many sins.” (Romans 5:16)