The daily miracle — God with us
“But how could God’s hand reach down this far from heaven?!” Dutch looked at me with a wide-eyed smile, incredulous. I’d just explained how an event was so clearly God’s hand orchestrating the details of our day. He shook his head and grinned, “Must be magic.”
No, it is not. Despite my attempts to avoid that m-word, it wiggled its way into our house and demanded explanation. I explained that while God does miracles which are extraordinary events that display His power, the world tries to copy His miracles by working magic, supposedly extraordinary events that display its power.
There’s always a counterfeit, right?
No I’m not losing sleep over Dutch talking about magic, but it reminded me of a recent conversation — about the Sacred Mundane — with a person who was all nods and agreement, but deep in my spirit I knew we were on different pages.
The sacred mundane’s counterfeit is pantheism.
The difference, in essence, is the inclusion or exclusion of the word in. Sacred Mundane says God is in everything. Pantheism says God is everything.
Pantheism says, in Tozer’s words,
“that God is the sum of all created things. Nature and God are one, so that whoever touches a leaf or a stone touches God. That is, of course, to degrade the glory of the incorruptible Deity and, in an effort to make all things divine, banish all divinity from the world entirely.”
On the other hand the Sacred Mundane,
“means simply that God is here. Wherever we are, God is here. There is no place, there can be no place, where He is not. … [and] it may be said that every act is or can be as truly sacred as prayer of baptism or the Lord’s supper. To say this is not to bring all acts down to one dead level; it is rather to lift every act up into a living kingdom and turn the whole life into a sacrament.”
The whole of life is a sacrament.
I can’t wait to share with you more about what this means. But what about you? What do you think this means?
Or more importantly, What does this mean for you today?
God is in the laundry room as you sort the lights and darks. He’s by your side as you scrub the hardened oatmeal from breakfast bowls. He’s whispering wisdom when frustration strikes and you’re at a loss for what to do. And He’s listening to your silent heart-thoughts when your only sanctuary is a hot shower and a locked bathroom door.
It’s not magic. But it is a miracle.
Immanuel. God with us.
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{Where do you see Him today and what difference does it make? Thanks for reading…}
When you might hold back just a bit for yourself…
Since embarrassing stories seem to be my specialty…
“Oh no,” I prayed as the proverb leaped off the page, “Now You want me to share that too?! I already shared the poop story. Do I have to share about how stingy I am too?” And of course the answer was yes.
I am stingy. In my flesh, that is. The word means, “Giving or spending reluctantly.” Note that it doesn’t say that you don’t give or spend. Oh I do. But deep down I’m still stingy. Now earlier this week we had a choice about giving. God clearly spoke to us from Proverbs 11:24-25: “One gives freely, yet grows all the richer; another withholds what he should give, and only suffers want.” I knew what the “what he should give” meant in our situation and the words “give freely” jumped off the page. I thought, “freely we have received, freely give.” It was something that had been freely given to us and therefore should be freely given to someone else (who deserved it way more anyway!!). I didn’t know how it would “work out” because we’d calculated some numbers and it was tight, but we sensed God saying to leave the results to Him. Jeff and I were so happy once we made that choice. Freely giving was fun!
So then yesterday. We have this very sweet neighbor man, who I recently found out trims back the bushes outside our apartment door, so that I can push my stroller through the front walkway without slapping the kids’ faces with the bush. I always had to shove the stroller through, trying to avoid poking an eye out, and then one day I was thrilled to see they were all neatly trimmed away, parted like the Red Sea, creating a perfect walkway for my stroller. I thought it odd that the apartment complex had done that, since none of the other bushes were trimmed. Then finally through casually chatting with him one day I realized he had done it. I was floored. So thoughtful. So kind. So above and beyond the neighborly call of duty (if there is one). So yesterday we arrived home from visiting friends, and I found that they had been neatly trimmed again. As I walked inside I thought, I should take him something, some cookies or something, to say thank you, and maybe that would even open a door to invite him to church sometime.
So later that night I get the kids to bed and Jeff is gone at church and I remember I’d just made a delicious batch of our favorite cookies and had taken a plate to our friends we’d just visited. I pulled the rest out of the freezer and figure I’d situate them on a small plate and keep a few for us. Well the only paper plates I had were huge, and it would look odd only giving him a few on such a big plate (read: it would look stingy which is an accurate representation of my heart!), but in order to fill up the huge plate it meant there wouldn’t be any leftover for us. Can you believe I’m actually having this conversation in my mind? And I can’t make any more cookies because we don’t have any more flour and my “rule” is that when I’m out of something for the month I just go without, I don’t go buy more until the next time to grocery shop, because it helps us stay on budget. And yes of course I could just give him ALL the cookies, but I really wanted to keep some! They’re my favorite!
I don’t remember what took me from this ridiculous inner monologue, but I ended up going to bed because I felt a cold coming on, and this morning felt even worse. So as I’m sitting here having my sweet time with God, and Proverbs 23:6-8 punches me in the face:
“Do not eat the bread of a man who is stingy; do not desire his delicacies, for he is like one who is inwardly calculating. “Eat and drink!” he says to you, but his heart is not with you. You will vomit up the morsels that you have eaten, and waste your pleasant words.”
Can I get an “ouch!”? I am glad I didn’t take him cookies last night because I guess he would have vomited up those tasty morsels! 
I was certainly “one who is inwardly calculating.” Isn’t God’s Word amazing? Isn’t it amazing how it brings such clear conviction, even down to the exact scenario? I read those words and knew, I was the stingy man. I was the one inwardly calculating. And I’m not just talking about cookies–of course now I’m going to go give the neighbor the whole silly batch of cookies, I’m at least smart enough to figure that one out! But I know I do this in other areas. All the time. I know that much of my giving is not done freely–it’s done carefully, calculatingly… stingily. And though I know I’m freer than I used to be, I know I’m not where God wants me to be.
Oh that God would change my heart. That I wouldn’t be one inwardly calculating, but one who gives freely. Without reservation. With no thought of myself. Without letting my right hand know what my left hand is doing (mentally patting myself on the back), but just being so free from the love of money and stuff that it can come and go without a second thought. Let the calculating end and the giving freely begin.
Even when it comes to the cookies.
{From the archives. Thanks for reading…}
What Keeps Us Out
The battle this morning was very real.
I had, over vacation, gotten soft. Slept in. Kids snuggled with us, phones turned off, nothing pressing urging me on.
Slip into the quiet morning late, sip coffee, bliss. Sort of like the warm afternoon eating cherries.
But now we’re home and as I ponder my upcoming projects it’s clear: This will take discipline.
Not just the book. The life. These kids and home and ministry and life, all of it, good and glorious, but all things worthwhile take work and will I work?
Is it worth it?
Yes, I decide it is. So I set the auto-program on the coffee pot. Set myself up for success. Punch in the numbers: 5:30. Sleep.
But when the beeping sounds my body screams. Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!
Within thirty minutes I’ve won the battle, but the body screams throughout the day. Eat! Eat! When I don’t need to eat. Quit! Quit! When I don’t need to quit. Escape! Escape! When I need to engage.
All the screams come from the same source: Self.
It is the same self that screams for attention, screams to get its way, screams when injured or offended, when slighted or overlooked. And Tozer would say that this same self — the one that screams — is what keeps us out, away from the presence of God.
It is, “the close-woven veil of the self-life which we have never truly acknowledged … it is not too mysterious, this opaque veil, nor is it hard to identify. We have but to look into our own hearts and we shall see it there, sewn and patched and repaired it may be, but there nevertheless, an enemy to our lives and an effective block to our spiritual progress” (Pursuit of God, 44).
Poked?
Now he pierces:
“The self-sins are self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love, and a host of others like them … The grosser manifestations of these sins — egotism, exhibitionism, self-promotion — are strangely tolerated in Christian leaders … Promoting self under the guise of promoting Christ is currently so common as to excite little notice … To tell the truth, [self] seems to actually feed upon orthodoxy and is more at home in a Bible conference than in a tavern. Our very state of longing after God may afford it an excellent condition under which to thrive and grow” (45-46).
Anyone still standing?
So what do we do?
“[The veil of Self] … can be removed only in spiritual experience, never by mere instruction. We may as well try to instruct leprosy out of our system. … It is never fun to die. To rip through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can never be anything but deeply painful. … Let us beware of tinkering with our inner life, hoping ourselves to rend the veil. God must do everything for us. Our part is to yield and trust. … We must insist upon the work being done” (47).
Our part is to yield and trust. I wonder how often I tinker with my inner life, like an old man passing time in his garage, instead of submitting to the Hand of the master and letting Him tear, cut, sew, mend, heal. Perhaps externally it all looks the same.
But one method accomplishes something and one method does not.
I suppose I’d rather choose the path that brings me close to Him. And if my flesh living means my spirit dying I guess I’d rather let Him tear out that flesh. Like weeds. The truth is I’m not sure what that looks like today.
But it will help me get out of bed, of that I’m sure.
{Where is your self-flesh rearing its ugly head today? How can you yield and trust Christ today, letting Him tear as He pleases for our good? Thanks for reading.}
Have you written your obituary lately?
A few of their husbands thought they were crazy.
“You’re writing your obituary?!”
They could blame it on me, their crazy-mentor-girl who made them do it.
But the 20-foot vine was proof. We have to know where we’re going.
The idea actually came from Regi Campbell, but the vine burned it in my heart. Running along, praying, asking God to show me exactly what things He wanted in my life. Priorities, how to spend my time, where to invest my energy. Needing clarity, discipline. I heaved prayers between breaths, halfway through my run.
And just then turned the corner and saw the vine.
Alongside a house, a rope stretched from the ground about 10-feet away from the foundation, all the way to the second story roof, probably 30-feet tall at an angle. And about 2/3 of the way up wound around a thick, green vine.
Winding, winding, winding, straight up in the air around that rope. I stopped and stared, out of breath.
It was striking, to see that vine just growing straight up into nothing, so high, clinging and climbing, round and round.
Wow. That’s amazing that they could guide that vine all the way up a 2-story house. I continued to run, down the narrow path. And in another fifty feet I found the path almost overrun: Blackberry vines. They spilled out, wild from the rainy weather, all over the path. Growing out, up and down, this way and that, threatening to engulf the path. The silent voice:
Growth not knowing where it’s going.
Both vines grow. Everything grows. Whether we like it or not we’re always growing toward something. Entropy tells us that without any outside force we’re always growing toward chaos.
Vines tell us that too.
So they tether the vine. Make it grow straight up to amazing heights. Remarkable. Accomplish something with all that growth. Or let it grow wild and it devours the path, makes a mess.
Only to be cut down.
That’s why. That’s why, I tell myself and the girls, that’s why we tell ourselves which way to grow. Make goals. Hold each other accountable. Decide each day which way to live rather than growing messy and spilling out all over the place, only to be cut down.
So how do we decide which way to grow?
It all depends: Where do you want to end?
Those folks wanted their vine to end at the roof of their house. Thirty feet in the air. Straight up to glorious heights. Awesome.
Where do you want to end?
Why not write it out? Yes, your obituary.
We did this fun exercise, a little sobering, a little odd, but so very good. We all began reluctantly and finished floored. How amazing it was to reflect on where we wanted to end. So often we think of life-goals that end when we are 40, 50, even 60. Where we want to retire, what our dream-house would be, where we want our kids to go to college.
Seems those goals are a little short-sighted, yes? If the end is at 50 then we’ll have a pretty sad downhill slide for 30-40 years. And yes, we do not know how many days God grants us, what why not plan for 90? If you had until 90, what would you obituary say?
Try it.
Just a 1/2 page. Nobody’s checking your spelling or grammar. What would be your life’s accomplishments? What would people say about you? Include quotes from your children, your spouse, your grandchildren. Think big and be creative. I was in tears listening as we all shared, the precious glimpses into hearts, the brilliant ideas, stunning dreams.
Where will you tether your rope? Where do you want to grow?
Find the spot. Tether up … and never let go.
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{Go ahead — on your lunch break or before bed, take fifteen minutes and write it down. Ask God to show you where He wants you to end… Thanks for reading.}