The best king was a caveman

A few months ago our pastor shared with our congregation about how God had spoken to him in his frustration.  Having felt the call to ministry well over a decade earlier, he had waited on God's timing and planted our church a little over three years ago.  There was no doubt in his mind (or mine) that this ministry is both ordained and anointed by God.  And yet in terms of growth in the fellowship, the numbers were not coming nearly as quickly as he would like.  More importantly, we seemed to be hitting a lot of road blocks in our forward movement towards fulfilling God's call upon our lives.

When he asked God the reasoning for all of the challenges and relative smallness (compared to what he would like to see), the Lord told him this: "I am sending you into the cave."

I suppose that that at first this answer made about as little sense to him as it did to any of us.  Then he recalled for us the story of King David, the ruler through whom God established the royal line of succession that would lead up to the eternal King Of Kings and Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ himself.

As far as kingship was concerned, David was the whole package: a gifted statesmen, an accomplished musician, a successful warrior, a loyal friend, and exceptionally "easy on the eyes," if you know what I mean.  Most importantly, he was described as a man after God's own heart.  Even as God revealed to him that his royal line would be established forever, his response was to bow in humility and praise the Lord.

David was not without his shortcomings and mistakes, for which he paid dearly throughout his lifetime.  Yet in the end he always seemed to come back to his faith in  and reliance upon the Lord.  The combination of his wisdom, gifts and fiercely loyal warrior servants laid the foundation for the greatest period of peace and prosperity in Israel's history.

David was also a caveman.  And by that I mean that for a period of time he literally lived in a cave.  His many early accomplishments had earned him the role of personal musician to King Saul, then commander of Saul's army and eventually the king's son in law.  Some of those same gifts eventually led Saul to see him as a threat and make several attempts on his life.  David could not at the time seek solace from the neighboring kings, whose armies he had defeated.  Instead,:

"David... escaped to the cave of Adullam." (I Samuel 22:1)  

This was not the only cave where David stayed.   With Saul in hot pursuit of him, he could not stay in one place for long. Instead, he moved throughout the wilderness, laying his head wherever he could find rest and cover from Saul and his army.

Even while David wore King Saul's label as "felon at large," people seemed to be drawn to him.  As an outlaw, however, David drew a different kind of a crowd:

"All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he became their commander. About four hundred men were with him." (I Samuel 22:2)  This number continues to increase throughout David's wilderness escape route.

So basically David went from being the commander of the "winners" (Saul's powerful army) to being the lord of the misfits, the king of the cavemen. It is not so much that these men and their families were unfit citizens or warriors.  Yet they seemed to identify themselves as outcasts, forgotten and tossed aside by society.  They were not unvaluable, but they had been devalued. 

The book of I Chronicles tells several tales of the great heroes and warriors in the time of King David.  These "mighty men," as the Bible calls them, were the people who joined David as outcasts and "misfits" during his time of hiding from Saul in the wilderness.  The most influential people in helping build the great kingdom of Israel were the same one who years before had felt ignored at best, rejected at worst by this very nation that they had helped lead.  And their leader, King David, once again ruled over the very army who had once sought his life. 

In light of this story, I count it an honor to serve as a "cave woman" alongside my pastor and the other beautiful people in my congregation.  One would probably not label us as a group of "society outcasts."  Yet in hearing our stories, I know that most if not all of us know what it is like to feel misunderstood, undervalued, rejected, lost and just plain desperate.  And I believe that God can and will use these very times of desperation as training periods to prepare us for our greatest victories in life.

I saw the three mice. Thank you Jesus!

I am what some people might call a reformed city girl.  More accurately, I am a reforming (almost) country girl.  In saying this I do not mean insult the city or suburban lifestyle.  By "reforming" I mean that I personally am becoming more accustomed to and appreciative of a different, slower paced approach to living.

After spending most of my life residing within metropolitan areas with populations ranging from 100,000 to the millions, a little over two years ago I moved to a small town in southwestern New York State with a population of just under 500 people.  What Panama, NY lacks in people, it seems to make up for in animals... all kinds of animals.  For example my daughter's good friend lives on a property with multiple dogs, cats, chickens, roosters, pigs, sheep and horses, though the young lady assures me that they do not live on a farm.  Never in my life would I have imagined any child of mine asking permission to go to her friends house so that she could help walk the pigs.

Some of these creatures, both domestic and wild, have challenged my ability to adjust to the rural environment.  It used to terrify me  when my  neighbors'  multiple unleashed dogs would run towards me barking forcefully as I went on walks down the road. In the city that's a good reason to detour down another side road (which come in short supply in the country), ready the mace or call animal control.  Most in the time in the country they are just coming out to say hello.  One dog's "hello" bark actually intimidated me so much that I held out my thumb and hitch-hiked for the only time in my life, for about a mile, just to get myself past that animal's property.

Then there is the livestock.  The people who lived two doors up from our first country residence had cows that would frequently escape from the pen.  One even managed to cross the street one day.  As I began my morning walk, I noticed her eyes staring me down, daring me to cross her path.  I did not have the nerve to take the dare.  Instead I quickly walked back to another neighbor's house (the neighbors who did not own the cattle), opened the door without even knocking and said "I'm sorry to bother you, but we have a cow situation."  When they stopped laughing at me, they just shook their head and said "city girl."

One Sunday morning we were unable to get to church in time to fulfill our duty as greeters, due to a "home visit" from some of these same cattle.  Three of them had gotten out of the pen and stood between our house and our car.  One cow stood less then six inches from our front door and just stared into our living room.  Imagine having to text a pastor with this excuse like this: "I'm sorry we cannot make it in time to greet this morning.  We've been cowed in."

The wild animals present a scarier problem.  What few black bears reside in the area tend to avoid humans as much as possible.  The only real dangers would come if the got spooked or cornered or if one meddled with their cubs or food supply.  And coyotes usually only come out at night, almost always where there are no big light or groups of people.  Still, I must confess that after sunset I stayed in the house as mush as possible and cultivated a much more active prayer life during those short trips from the front door to the car or the compost pile.

But the scariest experience I had with country animals came a few weeks ago... in the form of three field mice.  Believe me, I know how crazy that sounds.  But here's the difference.  The other animals lurked around in neighbors yards or local forests.  Those three mice had gotten into my home.

I thought I had heard some feet scurrying around in the ceiling and walls, but after calling my landlord I was content to ignore it.  We hear animals all of the time out here, and I reasoned that it might just be in my head.  More importantly, my truck driving husband is on the road a lot.  So acknowledging the presence of rodents in my home would mean that I alone would have to deal with the issue.

Then my daughter found a dead mouse somewhere near the garbage, on one of my sandals.  I used to laugh at that old illustration of an elephant that showed terror and want into a frenzy over the presence of a mouse.  I will never laugh at that elephant again.  I am that elephant.  I had such a hard time functioning over the thought of that tiny little deceased visitor that my poor thirteen year old daughter Ali actually had to take care of it for me.  When she asked me to check my box of shoes to see if there were any more mice, my initial response was literally "I am never wearing shoes again."  The next night I was briefly tempted to give up food as well when we saw two more field mice running across our kitchen floor.  Never in my life have I felt more like a city girl.

The landlord told me that it is common for a few field mice to get into houses in this area around this time a year.  He also said that all I needed to do to take care of it was set a few traps around the apartment and keep emptying and resetting them until there were no more mice.  After two sleepless nights, we finally went into town to buy the traps.  Ali found some easy, disposable traps that could not accidentally snap on my finger.  These traps were designed to kill the mice without us ever having to see them, and they did their job the very night that we set them.  We haven't seen a mouse in our house since, though we have more traps set just in case. 

As much as it disturbed me, I am so very grateful to God that I saw those mice when I did.  Ali was able to identify and plug a tiny hole in the bathroom through which the mice had probably entered the apartment, and we were able to take care of the problem fairly quickly.  Had we not seen them, the mice may have gotten into the food supply, chewed up wires or gotten up into higher cabinets.  Worse yet, if unchecked they may have reproduced and caused a real problem for us.  Seeing the mice out in the open forced me to confront address the issue before it the mice got out of control and did more damage.

Trials have a way of exposing the "field mice" in our lives, those  little hidden fears, hurts and weaknesses that lurk and move quietly through the walls of our soul.  This can evoke all kinds of feeling that we do not want to have, everything from annoyance to complete brokenness.  But in reality, becoming aware of our weaknesses can be a great blessing, because an awareness of our infirmaries can be the first step to healing.

In a sense too much worldly comfort (or more accurately, complacency) can be one of our greatest enemies, because it can suppress dangerous and destructive thoughts and emotions that we may not otherwise even know existed.  And sometimes we have to see the problem right in front of us in order to address it.
 
King Solomon was wise enough to acknowledge that the people of Israel would make mistakes and do things that would both offend God and harm themselves.  He knew that they would either ignore or be unaware of their sins for awhile, but that it would eventually bring them to a point of suffering that they knew could not solve.  He asked that God would have mercy upon them when in their desperations they finally acknowledged the "mouse in the room."  God's loving response to Solomon's prayer was this:

"If my people who are called by my name will humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sins and heal their land." (II Chronicles 7:14)

Think about it.  Sicknesses are often healed when people discover a diagnosis, and thus know where to go for healing.  When you know you have a leaking pipe, you can call the plumber to fix it.   How wonderful it is when the mechanic finds the reason for that rattling in your car's engine, so that he or she  knows exactly how to fix it.

Even more so than these, trials can be a blessing when they expose  our sin, our unforgiveness, our confusions, weakness and past hurts.   How else would we know to confess them, own them and bring them to the great physician for healing? 

This will probably not be the last time we receive little unwanted visitors in our country home.  And I am certain that God is far from done working on all of the unhealthy "visitors" of sin an weakness in my heart.  I'll probably scream when I see another mouse some day, and I will not like the feeling of more exposed weakness in my life.  But I am so very grateful that God's grace can move me beyond that "Eeek" moments when sin and trials are first revealed, onto true healing and growth.

Happy Easter, my friends.

The value of lost keys

I lost my keys again this morning.

It is a fairly common occurrence, almost daily in fact.  But today it took longer to find them than usual.  I did not use my car yesterday, so that extra day in the house must have given the keys time to get good and lost  (if ever there was a case of walking keys, it would be mine).  Also, my daughter, who seems to have a gift for finding things that I lose, was at a friend's house.

So I was on my own.  Worse yet, I was already behind schedule.  Why is it that when I am in the biggest rush I end up taking four times as long to do the things that need to get done right away?

One might argue that one measly key is worth next to nothing.  With a quick trip to the local hardware store or Walmart I could reproduce almost any key I own in under five minute for less than $2.00.  To be completely honest, I have lost count of the number of keys I possess that seem to have no purpose at all.

Well, this morning that car key was worth much more to me than a cheap, reproducible piece of metal. It meant the difference between my staying home and going out.  It also marked the different between a day of boredom and lethargy and a day of purpose and fun.  As I began to feel frantic after not initially finding my car key, I thought it might even make the difference between peace of mind and insanity.

You see, my husband is out of town with the only other copy we have of that key.  So there was only one key made to accomplish the two specific purposes of unlocking and starting my car.  And without that key to accomplish its very specific purpose, I could not get out to accomplish my goals and purposes for the day.  This morning that piece of tin meant enough to me that I dropped everything else I was doing to search until I found it.

If one key could matter that much to me, then how much more must each and every human being matter to God?

In Luke 15 Jesus shares three stories to illustrate God's immense, self-sacrificing love for each and every one of us.  Like a good shepherd," God would leave the rest of the 100 sheep flock to focus on just one lost sheep who has gone astray.  Like a mistress of the household who has lost a day's wages, God would abandon all else to search for one missing coin, even with nine other coins available. Like a father, God would focus and celebrate over the return of a wayward child, even as the faithful child continues to work in the fields.

These actions may at first seem illogical, or even inconsiderate.  I mean, who would risk losing 99% of the flock, the "good sheep," to go after the one that is known to stray?  Instead of racking one's brain over a missing 10% of wages, why not focus on investing the 90% that is there?  And why step away from the loyal worker to reward the son who has squandered half your wealth and basically told you that you were dead to him?

Thankfully, we serve a God who can be everywhere at once, a God who can go after the lost without ever abandoning the faithful.  But that's not really what these parables are about.  They are all about the lost keys.  (I realize that I just explained a parable with a parable, but please bear with me for a second.)

Like keys, God makes every single person with a specific design and purpose.  Unlike keys, God does not ever make cheap copies.  There never has been, nor will there ever be, a person exactly like me with the specific design and purposes has placed into my life. The same is true for every person reading this, and for every person who will never read this.  It is easy to look at a crowd of people like a bucket of random keys.  But God sees the doors that every key can open.  The fact that no one else will ever fit the exact function that we were created to fill makes us all the more valuable.

It grieves God when we stray from the special gifts and callings for which we were created.  It grieves God when we live in a state of perpetual blindness, confusion, guilt or anger.  This is not because God needs us to get things done.  The creator of the universe can do anything in less than a blink, with or without us.  It's about sharing the joy.

What parent (or grandparent or teach or mentor) doesn't swell with joy and pride when they see a child begin fulfilling their potential and grow in healthy ways? I'm so glad that my heavenly Papa loves me so much, and I pray that each person reading this will become more and more aware of God's special plan and purpose for your life.

Update:  After what seemed to me like an eternity (probably 20 minutes or so), I did eventually find my keys on that very morning.  I discovered that while deciding on what to wear earlier that day I had somehow managed to throw an unwanted article of clothing right on top of them on my dresser.  Did I rejoice when I found them?  Oh yes.  Did I thank the Lord for guiding me to the keys' secret location and saving my day? Absolutely!  Will I ever again lose my keys?  I would be shocked if I didn't.  After all, I am an mess, God's anointed mess.