Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Family resemblance

“This little one must belong to you. I can see it in everything about her.”

Words spoken by a complete stranger at a picnic yesterday while Isabelle sat next to me eating corn off the cob and potato chips. I told her she’d say the opposite if my husband was present because most people see him in her before they see me. Either way, though, there’s no denying she’s ours.
Have you had people tell you that about your kids or your parents? I used to get it all the time growing up. Either they’d say, you look just like your mother or you must be Rich’s daughter, depending on who they knew. As a kid, when you just want to be an individual, it’s not always a compliment to be told you look like someone else (unless it’s a movie star, of course!) and as a girl, being told you resemble your father can be devastating. Fortunately, we get over such childhood devastations and realize that people were being kind, not cruel. As a parent, it’s a huge compliment to hear that people can see you in your child. To me, it was just neat that someone who didn’t know us could tell that Isabelle was my daughter. It adds to the amazement of God’s miraculous work of using two people to make another person.
As Christians, we can have no higher compliment than for someone to tell us we look like our Father, or that they can see Jesus in us. Romans 8:29 tells us that’s God’s purpose in our lives: “For those whom he foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren.” (NASB)
Ideally, then, the longer I walk with Christ, the more I will look like Him. Most days, I feel like I have a long way to go. Do you know people who exude the likeness of Christ? I can think of a few, and they challenge me by the way they live their lives.
The tricky thing about this is that I want to look like Christ in the way I live my life, but if I know how much I look like Him, it may become a source of pride and then I’m back to looking less like Him.
At this stage of her life, I’m not sure my daughter has any idea she looks like me or my husband, and sometimes, even when we’re older, that’s hard for us to see. So, we rely on those around us to tell us what may be plainly obvious to others but not to us. I think it can work the same for our Christian brothers and sisters. It’s easy to get discouraged and think that we in no way resemble our Father. After all, the world certainly doesn’t make it easy or fashionable to look like Christ. So, maybe what needs to happen is that if we see someone doing something Christlike, we encourage them and say something like “You look like your Father,” “You must be a child of God” or “I see Jesus in you.”
Maybe that sounds kind of cheesy, but I think it could go a long way in lifting each other up and helping each other get through one more day. I’ll look for more opportunities to tell people that, and in the meantime, I’ll ask God to show me how I can be more like Him.

Living sacrifices

This was kind of a rough week emotionally. I know I can use pregnancy as an excuse for my wild emotions and moods, but I don’t like to do that all the time. It just seemed like every other day I was crying about something.

Most recently, I was dwelling on all the “missing out” we’re doing as a family. It breaks my heart that we can’t be physically present for our family and friends when there are births, weddings and other joyous celebrations. I think this hits me especially hard on holidays, even “small” ones like Labor Day, when all our neighbors seem to either have family over to their houses for a cookout or be at a family member’s house for a cookout. Meanwhile, we have our own little cookout, but it’s almost like just another day. I know we could invite people over, which we always think of too late, but there’s still something missing when your family is hundreds of miles away.
Even as I drove by the hospital on the way home from my weekly shot, I was sad thinking about how few visitors we might have when the baby is born because our families might not be able to be here for the birth.
All of this thinking added up to a breakdown the other night as I sat on the couch trying to explain to my husband what I was feeling. I finally said, “I just need to know that all of this is worth it in the end. And right now I can’t see that.” He later said he wanted to remind me that I had been overjoyed earlier this summer that he was one-fourth of the way through seminary. One year down, three to go. Still, that seems like a long time.
And it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I married him. His calling to be a pastor is my calling, too. I knew the steps that would be necessary. I just didn’t know it would be this hard sometimes.
God reminded me this week while I had some alone time that I’ve given my life to Him. That is, my WHOLE life, and when I try to take it back, there’s struggle, heartache, pain and frustration. In Romans 12:1, we’re told to offer our bodies as living sacrifices. I once heard a teacher/pastor say that the problem with living sacrifices is that they can crawl off the altar. That describes what I’d been doing. And not only that, but being a living sacrifice hurts. Not to be morbid, but if you’re already dead when you’re sacrificed, you don’t feel anything. A living sacrifice can feel pain.
I’m reminded of the lyrics to a song by one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Jason Gray. In “The Cut,” he sings:
Mingling here
Your blood and my tears
As You whittle my kingdom away
But I see that you suffer, too
In making me new
For the blade of Love, it cuts both ways

As You peel back the bark
And tear me apart
To get to the heart
Of what matters most
I’m cold and I’m scared
As your love lays me bare
But in the shaping of my soul
The cut makes me whole

So, I’m believing that this pain is purposeful, that it WILL be worth it, even if I never see the reward this side of Heaven, and that in choosing to follow Christ wherever He leads, we are surrendering our “rights” to be included, to be present and to do what others may expect of us.
It doesn’t bring me 100 percent peace to say that, but I choose to trust the God I chose to follow, the God who chose me before I even knew Him.

Hey, Jealousy

A newspaper I used to work for recently learned that it would be receiving nearly 30 state-level awards for its division in annual newspaper contests. When I worked there, we were usually proud of ourselves if we made it to double-digits total.

I admit, a twinge of jealousy sprung up in me and for a moment I wanted to be part of that staff, relishing in the recognition by your state-wide peers of a job well done.
And it got me wondering, is jealousy a sin? Can it be a good thing? And is there a difference between jealousy and envy?
I think we have a tendency to use the two words interchangeably, and I’m wondering if this isn’t a mistake.
Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, www.m-w.com, defines the two words this way:
envy – n. – painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage
jealous – adj. – intolerant of rivalry or unfaithfulness; disposed to suspect rivalry or unfaithfulness; hostile toward a rival or one believed to enjoy an advantage; vigilant in guarding a possession
The Bible describes God as a jealous god (Exodus 20:5 and 34:14, to name two places), and since God can’t sin, then jealousy, as first defined, must be a good thing. After all, if my husband were to show favor to another woman — the sort of favor that is supposed to be reserved for me as his wife, then I would have a right to be jealous.
Envy, on the other hand, seems to appear most often in “do not” commands or in a list of other sins. For example, Jesus says in Mark 7:21-23: “For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man ‘unclean’.” (Emphasis added.)


In the oft-quoted “love” passage of 1 Corinthians 13, we’re told that envy is something love does not do. If I love another person, I won’t secretly, or openly, pine for what they have, like well-behaved children, a comfortable home or a new car.
I don’t think I resent my former newspaper for winning all these awards. In fact, I’m thrilled for them. I’m just sad that I’m not a part of it. So does that make me envious? Or can I still say I’m jealous because I still feel some ownership and investment in a place I spent seven years of my working life?
How about you? Is there anything you’re jealous for or envious of? Let’s pray for wisdom in discerning the difference between these two closely related-yet-not-interchangeable words to describe this emotion.
And if you have any insight on this subject, I’d love to hear it, because I sort of feel like I may be more confused now than I was when I started!

Rusty tools

Just before we left for Illinois this last time, my husband, while changing the air filters in our car, discovered that his tools, which he keeps in the trunk of the car, had rusted a bit. The tools are less than 3 years old (a wedding/shower gift, I think, for him) and maybe aren’t top of the line, but still, they’re pretty good quality. Obviously, they’re not an everyday use sort of item or we’d have discovered the rust before now.

This summer, I was getting back on track with Bible reading and prayer time, mostly because my husband had night classes and other obligations that took him out of the house for hours at a time after Isabelle went to sleep at night. Then, we went to visit family and that whole routine went out the window. Now that we’re back, I’m finding it hard to get back into the groove. Isabelle’s sleeping later in the morning, so as a result, I am, too. My husband’s classes just started today, and his weekend job will provide those alone-time hours again soon, but I feel like my faith tools have been locked away in a trunk, only to be pulled out in an emergency, and now they’re rusty.
I don’t have a clue what to do to refurbish my husband’s rusty tools, and I’m almost as clueless about how to polish up my faith. But I know that without the daily use of the tools God gives us to survive in this world, I’m gonna fall apart.
Just an example from this week: I’m now 26 weeks pregnant, and the baby is moving consistently, which gives me great peace of mind. But I’m to the point of pregnancy where I’m now expecting that this child will be born, and I’m afraid something terrible will happen between now and then, making the loss even greater. Not that losing a pregnancy in the early months is easy, I’m sure … I know not of what I speak and won’t pretend to … but this is where I’m at with my worries and fears. They are fine-tuned, for sure, and I wish for a reversal — that somewhere along the line I would forget how to worry and fear and automatically exercise my faith in a tough situation.
I guess it’s a battle of will. The house is quiet now, so I should take the time while I have it. I think of Paul and his struggles and I’m encouraged: “For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15, NASB)
Time to make the tools useful again.

Beautiful mess

When Phil was deployed to Iraq a few years ago, I reacquainted myself with cross-stitching as a hobby. I remember learning how as a young girl, and my mom and I would often work on projects together. It’s one of my favorite ways to pass the time, especially if Phil has sports on TV. I like sports; I just have a hard time sitting through an entire broadcast of them without doing something else. Cross-stitch makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something.

As I finished up a project recently, I took notice of the back of the work. Frankly, it’s a mess — knots, end pieces, long strands stretched from one side to the other. If a person only saw this side of it, they’d have no idea what it was supposed to be. Maybe they’d get glimpses of the picture, but it wouldn’t be clear. Flip it over, though, and the picture comes to life and all the messy backwork makes sense.
Sometimes I feel like all I can see of my life is the backwork, and I wonder, “God, what in the world are You doing? This is a mess.” I guess that’s why one of my favorite verses is Philippians 1:6: “For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.” (NASB)
When all I can see is a mess, God sees the whole picture and promises that someday it will be beautiful. As one of my favorite musicians is fond of saying, “It takes a lot of manure to grow a beautiful rose bush.”
Here’s to beautiful messes.

Warning signs

Accident ahead. Expect long delays. Choose another route.

As if a driving trip from Illinois to Pennsylvania weren’t long enough, this message greeted us just west of South Bend, Indiana as we traveled the Indiana Toll Road on our most recent trip home and back. By the time I pulled the map out, our first chance at an alternate route had passed. When the sign warned us again just before the second alternate route, my husband and I mutually decided to stick with the Toll Road and see what was ahead.
Lesson learned: If the department of transportation tells you to take another route, obey!
As we approached the final exit before the accident, traffic came to a standstill because both eastbound lanes were closed and all traffic was being forced to exit. An hour later, we had completed the two miles to the exit and were navigating our way through the South Bend/Elkhart area to find our way back to the Toll Road. Our traveling troubles weren’t quite over, though. The local road was closed, so we needed to follow a detour, and while on the detour road we saw a sign that said “road flooded.” We were beginning to think this was the black hole of Indiana and we would never find our way out.
Two-and-a-half hours later, with a stop for lunch included, we were back on our way, seriously delayed, because we had not obeyed the warning signs in time. It made me think of the warning signs in the Bible we often ignore or don’t take seriously.
Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.” (NIV)
I felt like this could have been painted on our car after the South Bend delay. We could have trusted the DOT signs and taken another route, avoiding the delay and the frustration of having to navigate multiple detours. Instead, we plowed ahead based on our own understanding of the situation, which at the time wasn’t much. Life is the same way. God wants to show us which way to go, but if we choose to follow our own ways, we might end up stuck, delayed in our dreams, frustrated, regretful or far off the course we’d hoped we’d be on.
Here’s the other verse that came to mind: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” (Matthew 3:2, NASB) These were John the Baptist’s words just before Jesus started his public ministry. I often think of the wild-eyed, long-haired, “crazy” guy seen in movies holding the sign that says “Repent” while standing on a city street corner and telling people they need to repent. That’s not too far off the picture we get of John the Baptist. Either way, the key is the word “repent,” which means “turn.” Another warning sign we can heed or ignore. Jesus offers us a better approach to life than we can offer ourselves, but it’s up to us whether we believe him or not. The result of this decision, though, is more serious than just disappointment with the life we live. It affects our eternity. To choose repentance is to choose to join the kingdom of heaven, both in life and death. To ignore the call to repentance is to choose eternal separation from God.
The good news is, if you’re reading this and you haven’t chosen a life of repentance, you still have a choice. As long as you live, God will continue to pursue you with warning signs about where your life is headed.
But only you can decide if you’ll obey the signs or find yourself not exactly where you planned.
“… I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants, by loving the Lord your God, by obeying His voice, and by holding fast to Him …” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20, NASB)

Enough

It’s one of those just-enough-to-pay-the-bills kind of months. You know, the kind where you hold your breath, close your eyes and pray that when you’re done subtracting, there will be something, anything, left in the checking account, even if it’s single digits. Tell me I’m not alone here. Tell me you’ve been there.

God has been speaking to me through songs recently. Maybe that’s because I’ve neglected reading the Bible and praying lately. Instead of meditating on His Word, my mind has been filled with the how-to’s of paying bills and making ends meet.
Today, I remembered the Caedmon’s Call song “This World.” The chorus says: “This world has nothing for me, and this world has everything. All that I could want and nothing that I need.” Sometimes I’m down when there’s only enough money to pay the bills. And I’m jealous of people who get to take vacations or make new purchases or even save a little for a rainy day. But as this song runs through my head, I remember what’s important. That all the stuff this world has to offer, even the good, fun stuff, is nothing compared with what God has to offer.
I’ve been adding to my guitar-playing repertoire, and one of the recent additions is the Chris Tomlin song “Enough.” It was a favorite during my college days, and I’m still encouraged by its chorus: “All of you is more than enough for all of me, for every thirst and every need, you satisfy me with your love, and all I have in you is more than enough.” Even with single-digits in the checking account, I have more than enough to get through this life. That sometimes sounds naive when I think it or voice it, but I can’t think of anything I would miss more in my life if it wasn’t there than Jesus.
Yesterday, as I was making French toast for breakfast, I started singing “Seek Ye First,” especially the verse that says “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God, Allelu, alleluia.” That’s almost a direct quote from Matthew 4:4, when the devil is tempting Jesus to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. This convicts me. Even Jesus wouldn’t use his own means to meet a basic need in his life. He trusted his Father, even with his hunger.
This is so contrary to our culture. We applaud people who “make something of themselves.” We’re expected to solve our own problems. We value people based on their net worth. We’re impressed by the number of things we amass.
And yet the Bible’s message is consistent with the song lyrics … the world has nothing of real value to offer, God is more than enough of what we need, we’re not to live only on bread.
Oh, Jesus, help me embrace that counter-cultural attitude and trust that You are truly all I need. Amen.

Better together

We had a rough weekend. As Phil put it this morning, I haven’t felt this tired since Isabelle was a baby. Isabelle battled a fever all weekend, thus her usual sleep patterns were disrupted. She didn’t nap well during the day, and at night she would sleep for 3-4 hours at a time, then wake up hungry and have trouble going back to sleep. Fortunately, when the doctor checked her out this morning, she couldn’t find any sign of ear infection or throat abnormality, so she left us in wait-and-see mode. We didn’t have to wait long. She was fever-free all day.

It’s a relief, in a way, to know that nothing’s wrong, but the emotional toll of the weekend almost makes me wish there was some explanation for the suffering … both hers and ours. Phil started a new night job this weekend, on top of his regular job which is Saturday early evenings and Sunday afternoons, so much of the burden for caring for Isabelle fell to me, day and night. I don’t deal well with anyone in our family being even a little bit sick, so I found myself crying every time he left the house. I was emotionally empty, physically drained and spiritually dry. I haven’t cried that hard in a while.
Sunday night was by far the roughest of the weekend, but that afternoon, I was more hopeful than I had been all weekend because I knew at least that Phil would be there for a day/night block of time without interruption. Even when Isabelle’s crying for “Mommy, mommy, mommy,” I’m encouraged when he’s just in the house because there’s another option for her care.
The whole situation made me think of the verse in Ecclesiastes that is sometimes used in weddings.
“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work. If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-12, NIV)
I take this to mean that God does not intend for us to go through life alone. Married or not, we need other people to help us along in our life’s journey, especially when the tough times come. Otherwise, we end up burnt out — spiritually, physically, and emotionally. We don’t always need someone who can fix our problems or pull us out of the tough times. Sometimes all we need is a shoulder to cry on, a warm embrace, a kind word, or a listening ear.
And while we’re strong together, we’re strongest when God is in the relationship, be it a marriage, a friendship or a family.
It’s not always easy to admit we need other people, but it’s clear from God’s Word that Christians, especially, are meant to function as one unit, a body. Toes wouldn’t last very long by themselves, nor would ears or noses. The parts of our bodies are designed to work together for the good of the body; so, too, should we, the body of Christ work together for the good of the whole.
We don’t have to go through life, the good or the bad, alone. We’re not meant to. Who do you need in your life today?

More like Jesus

Do you ever feel like a mule? Man, was I dragging my heels, and kicking and screaming on the inside today when my husband and I got into a discussion about a phone call that needed to be made. The conversation went something like this.

Me: Well, if that’s what needs to happen, you’re going to have to do it.
Him: Oh. But it was your idea.
Me: But you’re related to her.
Him: But you’re a woman.
Me: So?
Him, a few minutes later: I’d really like to know ahead of time if you’re going to not follow through on something so I don’t sit around and wait for it to happen.
Me: (hurt, speechless and pouting on the couch)
I stewed about it some more and decided he was right. It was only a phone call, after all. And it was painless. But it was another reminder of what’s expected of me as a wife. Actually, as a Christian in general but the husband-wife relationship seems to be the hardest place to accomplish it.
Earlier this week I was reading the account of Jesus washing his disciples feet found in John 13, and I was reminded of the importance He placed on servanthood.
“‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call Me Teacher and Lord; and you are right for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.'” (vv. 12-15)
Christ, the Messiah, the King, took on the role of a servant and performed the lowliest task around. (Any RRBC’ers out there remember what it was like the year we washed each other’s feet during chapel service?) It’s humbling to kneel before someone, take their foot in your hand and gently wash it as an act of service.
We lose some pride and some of our rights when we choose to serve someone, even if there’s no chance of being served in return. But that’s not the way we want it, right? We’d rather the deal be, “I’ll serve you, if you serve me.” The way Jesus wants it is to serve even when we aren’t being served.
I’m reading Nancy Leigh DeMoss‘ book “Lies Women Believe and the Truth that Sets them Free” and one of this week’s truths was “We’re never more like Jesus than when we’re serving others.” That hit home hard with me. I’ve gone through weeks recently where I’ve kept score in my head of the number of times I’ve done this or that for my husband, waiting for him to return the favor, then growing resentful when it doesn’t happen. After I read that statement, I quit keeping score, or at least tried to. Human nature says I’ll fail time and again at it. And I found that when I served and then served some more and then served some more, I wasn’t angry, or resentful, or tired. I was … joyful?
I didn’t expect that. I hoped I’d be content, but full of joy to change the umpteenth poopy diaper, to wake up early with the toddler again, or to prepare his snack for his night class?
Really. It’s true. If you don’t believe me, give it a try. And don’t expect your husband necessarily to notice or say anything. Just do it, and know that Jesus is pleased that you’re following His example and becoming more like Him.

Worth the wait

On a recent repeat episode of “Antiques Roadshow,” I caught a segment featuring a man with two 19th century paintings by J.F. Kensett that he’d purchased at a yard sale. He told the AR appraiser that he once had them appraised for $800-$900 by a woman who also offered a buyer for the paintings. The AR appraiser, after examining the paintings and consulting with colleagues, told the man a conservative auction estimate for the paintings was $30,000-$60,000 each. Understandably, the man was speechless. (A transcript of this exchange can be found at www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/archive/200605A41.html) His is not the first story of this kind I’ve heard on the show. I always wonder how close these people came to accepting a first, and lesser, offer for their valuables and what must be going through their minds when they find out they were almost robbed of the true value.

We can be just as easily duped about life. How often do we settle for what is good, or something we think is good, when if we wait we will have something with a value beyond compare?
Jesus said, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the field, which a man found and hid again; and from joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” (Matthew 13:44-46)
Life is a treasure with which we are entrusted for a time, but we so easily sell it for less than what it’s worth. We sell ourselves to our jobs, success, retirement accounts, houses, entertainment, “stuff” and even our families. And we miss the point if that’s all we make life about. Jesus is telling his disciples in this passage that there’s something far greater to invest our lives in than anything we can own or see. He’s calling people to salvation, the promise and assurance of life forever.
Only when we look to Jesus can we discover what life is truly worth. The apostle Paul twice in his letters tells us we were bought at a price. John 3:16 tells us the price — Jesus’ death on the cross for sins he never committed. But because of that price, we’re promised an inheritance in heaven if we accept that we need Jesus and what he did because of our sins.
And God, because He’s a generous God, doesn’t only leave us with a promise of good things to come. He promises that with Him, life here, in the meantime, can be as good as it gets, His way, not the world’s way.
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10, NASB)
It’s easier to value what’s right in front of us, to treasure what we can see and believe what the world tells us is valuable, but like the man on “Antiques Roadshow,” if we wait for the Expert’s assessment, we’ll find a value far greater than we could have dreamed.