Where Will My Refuge Be? 

Where will I run when the ground starts shaking
Where can I hide when the earth is quaking
And the mountains fall into the sea –
Where will my refuge be? 

Where is my hope when my dreams lie scattered
Like a stained glass window with the pieces shattered
And brokenness is all I see –
Where will my refuge be? 

Chorus;

Oh my soul, do not despair
God isn’t blind or unaware
He sends the storm then heals the pain
With grace that’s pouring down like rain
Oh my soul, don’t bend your ear
To empty lies and phantom fears
In darkest night when all is dim
He’ll rescue when you call on Him
He’ll rescue when you call on Him 

Where is my peace when the waves are raging
My faith is battered and my heart is breaking
In my weakness and humanity –
Where will my refuge be? 

Repeat chorus 

Oh, this I call to mind – Your mercy is new every morning
Oh, this I call to mind – Your mercy is new every morning

I have a person like that in my life; perhaps you do as well.  Just the other day I did something that I thought would be a kind gesture, but rather than receiving a “thank you’ for what was done I received a critical remark for what was assumed I had left undone (which, ironically, had not been left undone at all.)  This person has a history of subtly shooting snide remarks my way. Usually I am able to overlook the insults and innuendos, but this time, for whatever reason, it really bothered me.  Blame it on my few years shy of fifty hormones, but I was ticked.  Everything in me wanted to defend myself and set the record straight.  I felt wrongly accused, but my desire to vindicate myself flowed purely from my flesh and did not carry even a hint of the aroma of Christ.

Still, the whole incident got me thinking…where does this desire to defend myself come from?  Why does it even bother me if I am thought poorly of?  Perhaps it is pride mixed with a measure of insecurity, or maybe it’s merely a remnant of the people pleasing tendency I have repeatedly tried to kill.  What I keep coming back to though, is that ultimately I want to live my life aiming to please an audience of One.  If God smiles on my words and choices then it really doesn’t matter who frowns, but if God frowns upon what I have said and done then who cares if anyone else is smiling?  I don’t want to have a careless attitude or be unaware of how I am perceived, but I also don’t want to be enslaved by the opinions of others. When I am wronged, I want to entrust myself to a strong Defender and know that if He is for me, who can ultimately be against me?

The truth is that someone was mean to me – but – if their meanness serves to draw me closer to God and to remind me that I don’t need the applause of man, then in the end, the meanness was really a kindness – another example of all things working together for good.  So, I guess I will refrain from putting onto paper the nasty note I wanted to write (I am still a person in process after all) and ask God to show me some way to bless her instead – you know, the whole burning coals on the head thing…like I said, I’m still in process…

These words are found in the opening lines of The Book Thief (by Markus Zusak), a work of fiction recommended by my daughter that I just finished devouring.  The narrator of this hauntingly beautiful novel is Death and he lets us know right from the beginning that sooner or later we will all be encountering him.  He is not lying to us.  I remember hearing a pastor once echo this sentiment saying that we are all born with an expiration date.  We don’t know when that date will be, but we know that it is coming – maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, maybe in twenty years, or maybe before this very day is done.

I hope I’m not sounding morbid.  I don’t mean to be.  In reality, thinking about the certainty of death could (and should) have an impact on how I live.  Knowing that life is fleeting and that one day the final page here on earth will be turned begs me to ask the question, what do I want to write in the chapters I have remaining?  How do I want to live until my story here is over?

I’m not talking about jumping on the “bucket list” bandwagon that bids me to make a list of all the goals I want to achieve, experiences I want to enjoy, and adventures I want to engage in before I die, and then go about crossing them off one by one.  Oh, I’m sure creating such a list could be an amusing diversion, but I fear that making this the focus for my remaining days would simply increase my natural bent toward being self-consumed, and that is never the path of a life well lived.  A self-centered life is a story too small to be truly satisfying.

Perhaps the reality of death is on my mind even more so because a friend of mine wrote the closing lines of her story three days ago.  When it happens to someone you know it makes you stop and think.  Hers was not a wasted life though.  I am but one of many whose life was made richer by her presence.

Really, when it comes down to it, I want the knowledge that my days here are numbered to lead me to live for what genuinely matters.  I want to be spurred on to make the most of my moments by applying my time and energy to knowing God and being a vessel to make Him known to others.  I want to experience His indescribable love; to drink so deeply of it that it flows forth and envelopes those around me.  Though my view is veiled and my portion is but a sample of the feast that awaits, I want to strive to so enjoy God here that the thought of being with Him forever is a pleasing anticipation.  I want to place my total confidence in what Christ accomplished on the cross, and live such that when I die I can be assured that the end of my story is really not where my story ends at all.

I am glad that I have no need to pretend with God.  To do so would be a futile endeavor anyway since His gaze easily penetrates past whatever fig leaves I might try and hide behind.  He sees the real me, which trust me, is not a pretty sight.  And yet, He is not disgusted or disillusioned, for He also sees who He is making me to be.  I don’t have to pretty myself up to appear in His presence, nor do I have to worry that He will reject me when I bare my soul before Him.  I know that slowly but surely (although the slowly is more evident than the surely) He is at work in my life, growing me to be more like Jesus, and in the meantime I am free to be a person in process.

The funny thing is that the more I am honest with God about who I am and what is going on inside me (which He obviously already knew before I told Him!) the more I am able to be honest with those around me.  Knowing that I am accepted by God allows me to forsake the fig leaves and say, “This is who I really am.”  Being transparent before God leads me to greater levels of transparency with others.  Risk and vulnerability may never happen naturally in my life, but I have seen that by God’s grace they can happen supernaturally.

Now, lest you judge my cowardly canine too harshly, let me fill you in on the rest of the story. You see, there was a time when Walker faced storms fearlessly, without being anxious at all.  But something happened a year and a half ago that changed all that.  It was an August afternoon and he was staying at my parents house while our family traveled to Maryland.  We were one state away from our destination when the cell phone rang.  When I heard the quiver in my Mom’s voice I knew right away that something was wrong.  Her house had been hit by lightning and although she and my dad had saved the pets, their home was going down in flames before their eyes.  The rest of that evening was a whirlwind of chaos and commotion, of sirens and sadness, as firemen fought a losing battle against the burning blaze.  Perhaps knowing a bit more of the story makes Walker’s wimpiness a little more understandable.

Sometimes I think we do the same thing with the people we encounter along this journey of life – we make judgments without really knowing their whole story.  Most of us, at one time or another, have been guilty of the “quick to condemn” crime, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were otherwise?  Wouldn’t it be nice if we were more inclined to extend grace than we were to make critical conclusions?

…maybe the woman we have labeled as incredibly selfish and self-centered grew up with no one to look after her, so she learned to look after herself.

….maybe the friend who is superficial and self-protective was left unprotected as a child and has never learned to move beyond her walls.

…maybe the neighbor with the violent temper grew up in a home where all he ever heard was angry words and accusations.

…maybe the woman who turns everything into a personal drama never got the attention and the affirmation she needed as a young girl.

We are all people in process.  We all bear scars that we have gathered along the way. We all long to be understood and accepted.  We all have hidden chapters of our lives that have never been read by most of the people we meet.  Wouldn’t it be great if we put into practice the words of Jesus when he said, “Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.”?  How much of a difference would it make if we were more eager to understand than we were to judge?  Perhaps the grace that we offer another is exactly what they need to take the next step in becoming who they were meant to be.  Perhaps we would be wise to learn the rest of the story.

Father, Christmas is but five days away.  Amidst the demands and distractions that inevitably accompany this season, don’t let me lose sight of what I am really celebrating.  Don’t let me get caught up in all that is superficial and neglect the sweet and simple truth that you have sent Your Son to be my Savior.  Let this, rather than the growing pile of gifts beneath my tree, be what causes my heart to overflow with joy.

Father, Your Son gave His life that I might know and enjoy and be satisfied in You and that I might give You glad worship with every breath that I am granted.  I hate that I so easily turn aside to lesser things and that I am so quick to become enamored with what is empty and trivial.  Cleanse me of this ever present sin that courses through my veins.  Captivate my attention and capture my affections so that there is no rival for You in my soul.

As I sit snuggled up on the corner of my couch, enjoying the beauty of my Christmas tree with its lights twinkling in the early morning hours, lead me to reflect on the surpassing beauty of the cross where my salvation was purchased – a gift I do not deserve and could never earn.  May I rest in this salvation, and respond to it with passionate love for You and genuine love for those You have placed in my life.  Oh Father, work in me so that Jesus truly is my greatest treasure.

If I’m going to be honest, I’ll go ahead and admit that yielding doesn’t come naturally to me, nor does it come easily.  Suffice it to say that I am equally inadequate with its synonyms: surrendering, deferring, submitting, and relinquishing control.   In driving and in life, I like to have the right away.  I always want the little green arrow telling me that it’s my turn.

The picture that God keeps placing on my mind is me standing before Him with my hands held open saying, “Take what You wish and give what You please.”  It scares me a little, but it shouldn’t.  I know that God is never mean-spirited or unkind.  I also know that if He wants me to learn “yieldedness” (I’m pretty sure that’s a made up word) then He will faithfully give me opportunities to grow in this area.  For example, earlier in the week I was visiting the orthopedist with my daughter, who had an MRI performed to evaluate a stubborn knee injury that is resisting healing.  The test results indicated that physical therapy a couple times a week for several months would be the next step in the recovery process.  So, do you think I immediately said, “God, I joyfully receive this from your hand?”  I wish that were the case, but in reality my reaction was more like, “God, this is not how I envisioned spending my time and money right now.  How in the world is this going to fit in the budget and squeeze into the schedule???”  But God is gracious, and right on the heels of that thought He once again brought the picture to my mind – hands held open, yielded.

Oh how I long to move past this “my will be done” mentality (which I have so keenly perfected) and dwell in the less familiar land of “Thy will be done.”  I want to get to the place where I can willingly release or gladly receive whatever God ordains is best for me.  I don’t want to cling to what He is calling me to relinquish, nor do I want to reject what He would have me embrace.  Whether He is giving or taking away, I know that God’s purpose is that I might walk in greater freedom and experience a deeper relationship with Him.  I want to be fully yielded.

“Can I show you a picture?” she asked.

Before I could even reply, she quickly took a step closer and pointed her cell phone toward my face so I could see the screen.  “That’s my new grandbaby,” she said.  “She was born yesterday and weighs 6lbs7ozs.  Isn’t she beautiful?”

I glanced at the image of the tiny bundle swaddled in blankets and wearing a pink woven hat, then made all the appropriate “oohs” and “aahs.”  I remarked that her new granddaughter was indeed a cutie, to which the woman beamed and proudly said, “I know. She’s just perfect!”  Then she held her phone against her heart, sighed a happy sigh, and walked down the aisle in search of the next customer to share her glad tidings.

This woman could not contain her joy.  She was so excited about the arrival of this newborn baby that she was announcing the news to complete strangers.  For the rest of the day, as I replayed the scene in my mind, I found myself thinking that I want to be more like the lady at Walmart.  This woman was absolutely elated over the birth of her granddaughter – how much more should my heart be bursting, ready to proclaim the birth of God’s Son!  How much more should I be delightfully declaring that God has met our greatest need, the need for a Savior, and that all who turn to Him and trust in Him will find hope and joy and peace and love.  I want this good news to be so real to me that I simply can’t contain it.  I want to be so in love with Jesus that I can’t stop talking about Him.

Who knows, maybe I’ll even stop some stranger in the aisles of Walmart and share the glad tidings overflowing from my own heart!

When the age of Saturday morning cartoons
came to a close, I became an avid watcher of the Batman and Robin series, always secretly hoping that Catwoman would somehow change her wicked ways and team up with the Dynamic Duo to stamp out crime in Gotham City.  On some other occasion I’ll tell you about the time I tried to convince my daughter that her Dad was really Batman and I was really Catwoman – she believed half of it, and I’m not about to tell you which half!

Anyway, at forty-something I still have a fetish for superhero flicks, so this past weekend I ventured forth to the local redbox and rented Captain America.  I had high hopes for the film, and for the first 124 minutes it didn’t disappoint – it was only the final minute that ruined it.  To be honest, there was a lot worth watching in the movie.  It had action, adventure, and a touch of romance.  The characters engaged in a fair amount of witty dialogue and displayed just enough humor to keep things interesting.  There was a noble hero to root for, one who displayed both courage and character, as well as an adversary to root against.  It was only in the final scene that the movie self-destructed.  I won’t go into the details just in case you still want to watch it, but suffice it to say that the conclusion was less than satisfying.  As the credits rolled across the screen, I found myself saying, “Well, that was a waste.  What a disappointing ending.”  We’ve all heard it said that “all’s well that ends well” – well, this one definitely didn’t end well!

I think it’s true that a story is only as good as its ending.  Life is a bit like that too.  I want to finish strong, not fizzle out in the final scenes.  I want to strive to live wisely and meaningfully my whole life, without turning aside to lesser things in the later chapters.  It always makes me sad to read the accounts of mighty kings mentioned in the Bible, men who followed after God and did what was right in their early days, then whose hearts became proud and led them astray.  When the end of my life approaches, I want to be able to say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).   I want to end my days with an exclamation point, not a question mark.  I don’t want the final review to be, “Well, that was a waste.  What a disappointing ending.”

By the way – just in case you are curious – I still know the words to the Spiderman theme song.

There – I’ve made my confession.  Not
only am I a prolific list maker, I also find great satisfaction in crossing
things off those lists.  I can’t stand it
when I complete a task only to discover that I totally forgot to put it on my
list.  I’m not sure what this says about
me (and please don’t inform me if you have an answer) but on occasion I have
even been known to write something down after the fact simply so I can experience the pleasure of crossing it off.

My main list is the daily “to do” list that sits on my desk encased in its
brown leather cover.  Most days, this list becomes quite lengthy, so I have developed a bit of a system to help me stay motivated.  I call it the reward
system.  Say, for example, I vacuum the downstairs, sweep the floor and put away the laundry – then I might reward myself by propping up my feet and reading a couple of chapters in a good book.  Or perhaps I finish the grocery shopping (a dreaded to do list item) and pay the bills – I might reward myself by sitting in a rocker on the deck and sipping a cup of coffee.  I must say that I highly recommend this system.

I’ll also go ahead and admit that I don’t just have one type of list; in fact,
I have several varieties.  I’m sure this is true for every good list maker.  Not
only do I have my list of what needs doing today, I also have an ongoing list
of projects waiting to be completed, a list of birthday cards that need to be
purchased, a list of prayer requests that others have passed my way, a list of
my husband’s upcoming travel dates, a list of doctor visits for the current
year, a list of bills needing to be paid, a grocery list that hangs on the side
of the refrigerator just below the Wall Mart list, a list of books I would like
to read, and a list….well, you get the picture.

Now, most of the time, these miscellaneous lists help save my sanity.  My old gray cells just ain’t what they used to be, so the lists serve as an aid to my less than reliable memory.  They help me save time (so I don’t wander the store aisles aimlessly, unless of course I forget my list!), they help me save money (I try not to buy things that aren’t on the list!), and they help me save relationships (forgetting a gift for your mother-in-law’s birthday is not a good idea!).

Although lists are typically a good thing in my life, one danger for a list-aholic such as I is the temptation to relegate my relationship with God into the list making mentality.
Go to church – check.
Read my Bible – check.
Serve in some way – check.

If I drift into this mindset, then Christianity becomes a to-do list.  Rules begin to replace relationship and duty takes the place of delight.  I have to guard against this.  I don’t want spending time with God to be something that I “cross off my list.”  I want to enjoy God and draw near to Him because I desire more of Him.  I don’t want to listen to God and respond in obedience simply because I am suppose to, I want to do so because it is the genuine desire of my heart.

So, while I am and always will be addicted to my lists, I must be watchful lest
they become destructive to my walk with God.
My hope is that the lists don’t hinder me, but rather help me save time
and energy which I can then devote to knowing God more deeply.

Okay – now I’m off to clean the kitchen so I can treat myself to a Dove’s dark
chocolate.  Trust me – the reward system really does work!