Swallowing Flies

Raise your hand if you've ever read (or had read to you) the book "There was an Old Lady who Swallowed a Fly".
...okay, put your hands down. I can't see them anyway.
For those of you who have read it, doesn't your life feel gloriously enriched because of that experience?
For those of you who haven't, you have been cruelly deprived of a truly inspiring piece of American literature, which I will now attempt to summarize for you...

In short, there's an old lady.
She swallows a fly.
No one knows why.
But for some reason, we all begin to assume that, "Perhaps she'll die."
Next she swallows a spider to catch the fly.
Then a bird to catch the spider.
Then a cat to catch the bird.
Then a dog to catch the cat.
Then a cow to catch the dog.
Then a horse to catch the cow.
And when she swallows the horse..."She died, of course."
And after you've read the whole story, if you turn to the very last page, this is what you'll find:

"Moral: Never swallow a horse."

Now, from the time I was able to read that book on my own I knew that wasn't quite right. (If you haven't caught up to that logic yet, I rescind my offer for you to graduate to www.terryrush.blogspot.com.) Because even my elementary reasoning skills said, "If you hadn't swallowed the fly, there wouldn't have been a problem! Forget about the horse--never swallow a fly!" Common sense tells us that if you don't want to end up swallowing a horse, don't start by swallowing a fly. Any sane person could understand that and would therefore make the wise decision to avoid flies.

...right?

Maybe not. You see, we swallow flies all the time. The TV shows and movies we watch that are full of foul language and immorality, the music we listen to that carries an unholy message, the thoughts we entertain that are a far cry from glorifying to God, every distraction we permit to invade our minds and draw us away from Him...these are our flies. And we swallow them daily, usually washing them down with rationalizing statements. "Just because I watch that/listen to that doesn't mean I'm going to talk/act/live like that." "Just because I thought about that doesn't mean I'm actually going to do it. Come on!" We might as well be saying, "Just because I swallowed one silly little fly doesn't mean I'm going to swallow a horse and die!" Oh yeah? Tell that to the old lady.

The Bible makes it clear how God feels about flies.

Ephesians 4:31,
"Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice."

Ephesians 5:3,
"But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people."

Ephesians 4:29,
"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."

He even goes so far as to say that if you swallow a fly, you might as well have swallowed a horse.

Matthew 5:21:22,
"You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment."

He also says that when you swallow flies, you throw up horses.

Luke 6:45,
"The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks."

If we keep storing it up, it's gonna start coming out. Because if we keep inching closer to the line just to see how close we can get without crossing it, all of a sudden we're going to look back and see that the line is way behind us. Because you didn't plan on swallowing the horse when you downed the fly...and the spider......and the bird.......etc., but you did. Once you got there, you just couldn't help it.

So how do we stop it? We quit inching toward the line and start running away from it. We quit swallowing flies.

Philippians 4:8,
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

Leviticus 19:2,
"Be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy."

Romans 12:2,
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."

We don't want to be a horse-swallowing, dying people. So let's quit swallowing flies.

Anybody have a flyswatter?

Cruise Control

Have you ever been driving somewhere and about the time you hit the entrance ramp to the highway, your mind detaches and travels to another dimension where it focuses on anything and everything except the task of driving? Oh good, then I'm not alone. :-) When that happens to me, I'll stay spaced-out for a few minutes before jolting back to reality. It's usually at that moment when I realize that I'm driving somewhere between 10 mph below the speed limit and 10 mph above it--which one depends on what I was thinking about at the time.

If I was angry, nervous, excited, or really getting into a hyped-up song on the radio, I was probably going over.

If I was sad, tired, peacefully contented, or drifting into the soft tones of a gently melodic song on the radio, I was probably going under.

When I "wake up" and realize what's happening, I either punch the gas or slam on the brakes, giving myself a severe case of whiplash. (Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but you get the idea. I fix the problem.)

ENTER CRUISE CONTROL, STAGE RIGHT

If I'm paying attention when I get on the highway, I set my cruise control. Then I sit back and let my mind wander through the dimensions without having to worry about it getting me a ticket. Because while my speed was formerly controlled by what I was feeling internally at any given time, with cruise control my speed remains constant because it is regulated by something outside of myself and my emotions.

If you've been waiting for the spiritual application of these ramblings, thank you for your patience. (If you've already figured it out, then clearly you are in need of a source of much deeper spiritual musings. May I suggest www.terryrush.blogspot.com.) Here it is:

The Holy Spirit is our Cruise Control.

Think about it. When we hit the entrance ramp to life on our own each day, we often end up way off track of where we're supposed to be. We're too fast, too slow, too low, too high, too aggresive, too passive, too apathetic, too discontent, too selfish, too sacrificial (Yes, it is possible. That's for another post.), too confused, too certain, and any number of other pairs of extremes. Why? Because our "speed", so to speak, is determined by our emotions. We operate from the perspective of how we feel.

Now granted, eventually we jolt back to reality, see the folly of our ways, and punch the gas or slam on the brakes. But by then we may already have flashing lights in our mirrors, and even if we don't, who likes whiplash anyway?

ENTER HOLY SPIRIT, STAGE RIGHT

If we're paying attention when we hit the entrance ramp each morning, we should be surrendering ourselves to the Holy Spirit of God, laying ourselves at His feet, and putting Him in control (especially since He's already in control anyway). Now, that doesn't mean the emotions don't still come. They do. We still feel. But what we feel no longer determines the speed (and often the direction) of our lives. Instead, our speed and direcion remain constant because they are regulated by Someone outside of ourselves and our emotions. We still live in the zone of what we feel, but we don't operate from it anymore. Now we operate from the zone of who He is. And that, my friends, is a steady Cruise Control.

"Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God.
You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you...
Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation—but it is not to the sinful nature, to live according to it. For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God."

Romans 8:5-9, 12-14

Holding Hands

At church last Sunday during the closing prayer, I found myself holding hands with a dear friend. A friend who was praying for me and my family. Physically speaking, this friend of mine is great in neither stature nor strength, but as I held her hand that morning, I felt a strength coming through it. I'm not talking about the kind of strength that people try to share. You know, when you're having a hard time and you're praying with a friend and they hold your hand really tightly as if somehow they can transfer strength to you that way. It wasn't like that. It was a strength not her own, a strength she wasn't trying to convey, a strength that flowed from Someone stronger than herself, a strength that poured into me and filled me up and urged me on. I doubt she was even aware of it. But as I sat there, I thought, "If I was hanging off the edge of a cliff (spiritually speaking), this is the hand I want pulling me back up."

Why? Why is that the hand I want pulling me up? Because it's not just a hand. It's a Hand. In my friend dwells the Spirit of the Most High God, so when I hold her hand, I'm holding more than her hand--I'm holding His. And I know His strength!

The Lord has blessed my life so richly: I have many friends about whom this could be said. When they reach out and hold my hand, I get to hold the Hand of God. Whose hand are YOU holding?

"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!"
Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

"Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand."
Psalm 73:23

Communion Trays

If you're like me, you have days where you're just simply crabby. And, if you're like me, these days are often preceded by a night on which you stayed up far too late. Today was such a day for me.

It's New Years Day, so obviously I was up late last night. And, this being a Sunday, I was up early this morning and off to church. This, coupled with some unknown causes, created my crabby mood.

Being crabby makes it difficult to focus on worshipping the Lord, but I did my best through the first half of the service. Then came the sermon. Terry spoke about how God had shown him that there are two kinds of people in the church: collection plates and communion trays.

• Collection plates are about themselves. They look for only what they can get out of church and out of Christ. They spend their time focused on their needs and their struggles and their trials, looking for people to fill them up.
• Communion trays, on the other hand, are about others. They are made up of crushed fruit and broken bread, but they spend their time looking for ways to use their brokenness to bless those around them. Their focus is on Christ and how their lives might be emptied in order to bring Him glory and bless His children.

So, there you have it.

Now let me give you some back story to the rest of this.

There is a group at our church called Project Tulsa with a mission to serve the homeless people in our city. Since the middle of the summer, a group of us has gone downtown every Sunday afternoon with food and water bottles to hand out. We have made countless friends at the homeless shelters, and they have become a joy to us.

Okay, back to the story.

As I drove home from church, I wrestled back and forth with whether or not to come back to the church after lunch and go with the group downtown. Since I was crabby, I really just wanted to go home and take a nap. But I felt the Lord calling me, saying, "No, go spend time with your friends downtown. Go spend time with Me downtown. Quit being a collection plate. I expect you to be a communion tray." So downtown I went.

We cooked and wrapped 300 hot dogs and loaded up a dozen or so cases of water and soda, and seven of us took off on our weekly rounds.

We were at our last stop before I realized what happened. I was sitting with my friend on the bumper of one of our suburbans, each of us with a pile of hot dogs in our laps. We called out to everyone who walked past and offered them what we had. We laughed with one man who came back five times for another hot dog and teased him about the Pillsbury Dough Boy on his t-shirt. We greeted our friends and asked how their weeks had gone. We prayed with strangers. We smiled and laughed and loved. And suddenly it hit me: I wasn't crabby anymore.

How? How is such a thing possible? The wisdom of the world would tell us that if we're crabby, the best way to fix our mood is to focus on our own needs and take care of ourselves, then we'll feel better. But God's wisdom is different. He tells us to focus on others, to take what already feels spent and spend more, to take what is already empty and pour it out. And somehow, as we empty and pour and spend...we find ourselves fuller than when we started.

As we begin this new year, may we all learn to shed our collection-plate ways and assume the attitude of communion trays. May we be emptied and poured out and utterly spent for the sake of His Kingdom. And at the end of the year, may we be more filled with Him than we could ever have dreamt.

"For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for Me will save it." Luke 9:24

The End of My Rope

We all know the phrase, "I'm at the end of my rope," or something similar to that. I'm going to be honest--I have a pretty long rope. I don't mean that pridefully, it's just the truth. God has blessed me with a laid-back personality that can handle quite a bit of stress without actually getting stressed out. That comes in handy with a family as large and ever-changing as mine.

However...

In the last three years or so, I've been pushed farther and farther down my rope.

It started with Vivian (third picture from the right at the top of this blog). Now, I was used to taking care of kids in my family. I was not used to taking care of kids who became part of my family and were then taken back out of my family just as quickly. But that's what I learned to do with Vivian. She became our foster child at six weeks old and lived with us for six weeks, which seemed like forever. Then, with only five days notice, she left to go live with the family who has now adopted her. The day she left, I thought I had died. I slid a little farther down my rope, but I still had a lot left to hang on to.

Next came Shyanne. My precious Shyanne (middle picture above). She also came to live with us at six weeks old. But she was with us for eighteen wonderful months. For that entire year and a half, Shyanne was my baby. We did everything together. Everything. She's the only person with whom I've ever shared a toothbrush, if that tells you how close we were. :-) After eighteen months, Shyanne went to live with her aunt, and a month later, home to her dad. They're doing well and she is a beautiful and smart and precious 2 1/2 year old. But the day she left...I knew I had died. I will never forget the moment I kissed her goodbye and we drove away. It brings tears to my eyes even as I type it one year and one week later. That day, I slid a long way down my rope, but I still had quite a bit left.

During the time that Shyanne lived with us, Noel (second picture from left above) also lived with us for about three months. Noel was four. And...well...Noel was four. :-) Fitting a four-year-old into the routine of life changed it significantly, and life with Noel was not always easy. All four-year-olds have their issues...especially those in foster care, but Noel was a good kid, all things considered. The sadness at her departure was different and less heart-wrenching than with the babies we'd had almost from birth, but we were still sad. The experience of life with Noel sent me a little farther down my rope, but when I looked down, I still had some left below me.

David. My baby boy, my little miracle, my beloved David (third picture from left above). He came into my life at just ten days old. He weighed barely over five pounds and his carseat swallowed him, but it was love at first sight. He was my boy. After about three weeks, David got sick. We had to admit him to the hospital, where he stayed for twenty-five days. During that time, his condition confused every doctor and nurse we encountered, and he ended up in ICU and came close to meeting Jesus face to face. For twenty-five days, I spent as much time at the hospital as I was allowed. I hated it, hated seeing him sick and hurting, but I wouldn't have left him there without me for anything in the world. David had hundreds of prayer warriors fighting for him, and he got better and came home. He lived with us for four more months before he moved to his aunt and uncle's, and then to his dad's. I still get to see him. In fact, he's asleep on the other side of the room right now. But it isn't the same. The day he left, part of me left with him. I will never forget kissing him goodbye, then standing in the street and watching him drive away. Again, tears come to my eyes. When I slid down my rope that day, there wasn't much left.

Ali (second picture from right) is David's big sister. She came to live with us shortly after David came home from the hospital. She was fourteen months old. Ali challenged me. She wasn't a bad little girl. In fact, she was very good, very smart, and about as easy to live with as any fourteen-month-old could be expected to be. But I just didn't connect with her. I loved her, yes. But I didn't connect. I think it's because David was already mine, and she symbolized another part of his life that I wished didn't exist. She reminded me that he wasn't all mine. Ali left with David to go live with her aunt and uncle. She is doing wonderful, and her aunt and uncle are planning on adopting her. But Ali's presence pushed me down my rope a little farther, and I was starting to get nervous at how little I had left.

Valentina (far right picture above) and Vanessa (picture in previous post below) are sisters. Valentina is seven, and Vanessa is nine. Their personalities are as different as night and day. Having older children in our home was a different experience from those we'd had before. It was easier to say goodbye, because they didn't feel quite as much like they were "ours" the way the babies did. They had their own family, and they knew it. However, having them with us was more of a challenge than having the little ones, at least for me. Conflicts with the younger kids were a daily exercise of...um...character building for us all. :-) Plus, the girls had four brothers and sisters who made regular visits to our house, which made life even more exciting. It was more subtle with Valentina and Vanessa, but having them in our home pushed me down my rope still farther until I was hanging on to the very end of what I had thought was a fairly long rope.

This is Amber.

She's thirteen...

...going on twenty.

This is Christopher.

He's eight...

...going on five.

Amber and Christopher just came to live with us this week. Christopher might have autism, we're not sure. Amber is a great kid--super helpful, very sweet, lots of fun...but she's a teenager. ...I'm not good with teenagers. I told a very dear and very wise friend before they came, "I'm not sure I'm ready for this..." I suddenly realized I had reached the end of my rope. When I looked down, there was no more rope. When I looked up, I saw the end of it dangling above me. But my wonderful friend's response set my heart at rest: "Aww, that's perfect, then! Now He can be strong when you are weak!" That's when it hit me--my rope was gone, but I wasn't falling. I looked down again and saw the all-important thing I'd missed every other time because I'd been so focused on my rope: I was sitting in the hand of God. It had never been my rope holding me up at all. It had been His hand all along. Now that I've been pushed off the end of my rope and have nothing left to hold on to, I reach for what has been there from the beginning. I hold onto His hand. And as I do, I'm watching an amazing thing happen: ...He is lifting me up. Not just up, He is lifting me past the beginning of my rope, past the highest point I ever achieved on my own. It is only in this moment that I realize the truth: my rope was never holding me up. It was holding me down. Now that I've reached the end of it, God can take me higher than I ever dreamed. So my prayer for you tonight is that you may reach the end of your rope so that God can lift you up, as well. Because let me tell you--the view is spectacular! :-)

Great Ideas

This is Vanessa. She's one of our foster children. She's 9 years old. She and I share a room, which is an adventure. :-)

Tonight, I tucked her in bed. We read a book, and then we prayed. Vanessa always prays exactly what she's thinking, and I love that, but tonight her prayer really blew me away. She thanked God for letting her live in "a good place like this." She thanked Him that she gets to go live with her aunt soon. She thanked Him that her aunt has said she can stay in contact with us and "write them letters and maybe come see them once in a while." Then she said,

"God, I think You have really great ideas right now. You always have great ideas, and I will always trust You. Amen."

That is coming from a child whose life has been turned upside down over and over, and is going to be turned upside down again when she goes to live with her aunt in about a month. She doesn't know where her life is headed. She has no idea where she'll be this time next year. Her life is a mystery--a mystery that would scare most of us. But not Vanessa. Vanessa has found the secret: She knows that God has great ideas. And she knows she can trust Him. I think that's 9-year-old lingo for, "Not my will, but Yours be done." I'm so proud of Vanessa. She is learning to trust God and His great ideas, even when she doesn't know what those ideas are or where they will lead her. Thanks, Vanessa--you just redefined "trusting God" for me.

Father, let us all be more like Vanessa. Let us believe that Your plans and Your ideas are truly great, and help us to remember that we can trust You with all our hearts.

" 'For I know the [great ideas] I have for you,' declares the Lord..."

I AM

Growing up in church, I have heard many different explanations of what God meant in Exodus 3:14 when He told Moses that His name was, "I AM." I've heard that such a name describes His timelessness, that no matter where we are in time, He is I AM. I've heard that this name is simply a testimony to His awesome existence, a declaration that He is. And I'm sure I've heard a marvelous explanation derived from the actual meaning of the Hebrew word for "I AM". I love to think on and process each of those possibilities, but the other day, I was struck with a new possibility for the meaning of "I AM." Could it be that God was offering a comfort to His people? An assurance that everything we are not, He is? He gives this name in the middle of Moses' protests that he is not capable of leading the Israelites out of Egypt. Was He trying to tell Moses, "No, you're not, but I AM"? If so, what does that look like in our own lives? As we protest with, "God, I'm not ______ (fill in the blank)", is He answering with those simple words, the definition of Himself, "I AM"?

"God, I'm not strong." "I AM."
"God, I'm not holy." "I AM."
"God, I'm not courageous." "I AM."
"God, I'm not worthy." "I AM."
"God, I'm not patient." "I AM."
"God, I'm not wise." "I AM."
"God, I'm not beautiful." "I AM."
"God, I'm not perfect." "I AM."
"God, I'm not joyful." "I AM."
"God, I'm not enough." "I AM."
"God, I'm not gentle." "I AM."
"God, I'm not confident." "I AM."
"God, I'm not adequate." "I AM."
"God, I'm not sure." "I AM."
"God, I'm not faithful." "I AM."

...and so the list goes on and on. Everything we are not, He is. In our weakness, His strength is made perfect. He steps into every void, He fills every crack. And then He takes it one step farther--He clothes us with Himself that we might be those things, too. He makes us beautiful and perfect and adequate and confident...He is so very good to us.

So the next time you find yourself crying out, "God, I'm not ______!!!", may you hear His still, small voice whispering, "I AM."