Missionary Weapons (1)

"God's training ground, where the missionary weapons are found, is the hidden, personal, worshiping life of the saint" -- Oswald.

I am discovering that Oswald has several themes to which he returns time and again. The relationship between the private and public life of the saint is one of these themes. Oswald emphasizes that the private life must be solid for the public life to be of any value. And each time he returns to the subject, I am reminded of how easily I get it reversed -- focusing on my public life at the expense of my private relationship with God. The thing is, public service will flow naturally from personal worship, but it doesn't work in reverse. Not for me anyway. Public service, when it becomes the focus of my effort and attention, drains rather than revives me.

I am currently the elder in charge of worship at my church. I have helped to orchestrate several services where, while people told me they were blessed, I walked away discouraged and exhausted, blue even -- a sure sign, I think, that I was focusing on public service without the training ground of a hidden, personal worship of my God.

First things first, Barb. First things first.

Do It Yourself (2)

My husband and I had an interesting discussion today about the merit of doing things out of duty vs. doing things out of love. I said that doing things out of duty was way better than not doing things at all, and he said he thought I was discounting the cost/the fallout of doing things out of duty -- resentment primarily -- both on the part of the person doing his duty and the person receiving a gift given solely out of duty.

After reading Oswald's entry for today, I'm wondering if part of taking every thought/project captive is taking the time to move from a knee-jerk dutiful response to a love-motivated one.

Oswald: " . . . a person is not only committed to Jesus Christ for salvation, but is also committed, responsible and accountable to Jesus Christ's view of God."

We must transform our minds, and that includes trading resentment-inducing duty for love-motivated action. Perhaps it will take more time. Perhaps we will get less done. But what gets done will be worth doing -- on every level.

Do It Yourself (1)

Oswald makes two really interesting distinctions today: 1) sin vs. human nature; and 2) innocence vs. holy character. He seems to be saying that while Jesus has done the work of defeating sin in our lives, washing us white as snow, our daily choices move us from what is natural to what is spiritual.

Consider this excerpt:

"The conflict is along the line of turning our natural life into a spiritual life, and this is never done easily, nor does God intend it to be done easily. It is done only by a series of moral choices. God does not make us holy in the sense of character; He makes us holy in the sense of innocence; and we have to turn that innocence into holy character by a series of moral choices. These choices are continually in antagonism to the entrenchments of our natural life, the things which erect themselves as ramparts against the knowledge of God" -- Oswald.

Turning a natural life into a spiritual one. Turning innocence into holy character. Making choices that frustrate my natural inclinations.

What in my life exalts itself against the knowledge of God? What keeps me from wanting to seek him, study him, follow him? Those are the things that need to be destroyed -- even if they don't seem like sin.

Fountains of Blessings

Shortly after we moved to the Portland-Vancouver area in 1995, we discovered the Salmon Street fountain along the Willamette River boardwalk. I had never seen anything like it. A wide circle of powerful water jets shot into the center of an only slightly dipped surface. There was no pool, no off-limits. This was a fountain meant to be played in. Children ran through it screaming. Teenagers stood in the very center, seeing how long they could withstand its power. But it was also a "guessing" fountain. It changed from the outside jets shooting inward to the center jets shooting outward. My husband and I let our 5-year-old boys peel off their Sunday clothes and run through the fountain in their Superman underwear. We took turns running through it ourselves with our 18-month-old daughter in our arms. We squealed, laughed and got soaked. Then we got great big ice cream cones, sat on the benches and dried out a bit before heading home for naptime.

The Salmon Street fountain is the one that came to mind as I read Oswald's entry today. "You are to focus on the Source so that out of you 'will flow rivers of living water' -- irrepressible life." Not just a fountain to be admired as beautiful from a safe distance but a fountain full of giggling, squealing, surprising, powerful life.

The Far-Reaching Rivers of Life

What amazing comfort I find in these words this morning. Focus on the Source. Forget the obstacles. Wow! How terribly simple and how amazingly sweet. Because, you see, I just can't figure out the obstacles. I stare and stare at my depression, my finances, my apparent inability to experience God's joy and peace. My stuck-ness. And I cannot fix any of it. The obstacles, and my meditation on them, produce in me a nearly irresistible desire to retreat.

Focus on the Source. Look at God. The Father, the Son, the Spirit. See the wisdom. The bounty of his goodness flowing over. Trust him with me. Trust him that his waters will flow around or over or through the obstacles.

Words for me to live by today: Eyes off the obstacles. Eyes on God.

The Missionary Watching

"In the Garden of Gethsemane they slept as a result of their own sorrow, and at the end of three years of the closest and most intimate relationship of their lives they 'all . . . forsook him and fled' (Matthew 26:56)" -- Oswald.

I understand the desire to sleep, to escape. Reality seemed to be crumbling around them. Had the last three years all been an illusion? Were they kidding themselves? The present certainly seemed to discredit their belief that Jesus was ushering in a new order. He was predicting a betrayal, his own death. This was not what they had expected when they left their livelihoods to follow him.

For three years, they had what I say I want -- the closest and most intimate relationship of their lives -- and yet they forsook him and fled. Then, in their dejectedness, he came to them and gave them the one gift that allowed them to believe, stay awake and stand firm -- the Holy Spirit.

My relationship with God -- such as it is -- has defined my life. Will I forsake it now because it has not played out as I envisioned? Will I judge the basis of my life an illusion because I don't like the results?

My temptation when faced with what appears to be a crumbling reality -- but is actually a shattering of illusions -- is to sleep. Only the Holy Spirit can give me what is required to stay awake, face my disappointment and stand firm.

His!

"The spirit that comes in is not that of doing anything for Jesus, but of being a delight to Him" -- Oswald.

Someone sent me a note recently: "Just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your person. What you do is icing on the cake." I love the idea, but my sense of myself is so tied up with what I do that I'm not sure I get it. What does someone mean when he says he appreciates my person, and how can I be a delight to God apart from obedience, i.e. performance? keeping the law?

I have been struggling with a whirlwind of emotions over the last few days. When I finally sought out counsel, I ended up spewing a confused mixture of tears and anger and disappointed idealism and jealousy and fear and legitimate points in a hundred different directions. My wise counsel suggested that I attempt to narrow the onslaught into one overarching emotion. Here's what I came up with: "less than." I feel less than.

I continually compare myself not only to the young, beautiful and talented around me but to my own sense of what I should be, and I fall short. This process is so ingrained in me that I do it without conscious thought. I walk into a room, and boom! I intuitively know that I do not measure up. Sometimes it happens before I even enter the room, and I dread going because I know I will not be enough or I will be too much. I will just be wrong. My flight defense kicks in before I've even faced the danger, and all I want to do is go home where it's safe.

I end up being jealous of other people's successes because their successes are my failures. I should have lost the weight. I should have run the half-marathon. I should have written that or suggested that or had that brilliantly creative idea.

I can see the sickness in this, how it is the opposite of what God wants. I think I could even spell out the right way to think, the right way to judge my worth. Only I cannot seem to get there. A friend described her own journey recently as trying to ride a stationary bike cross country. I think that comes close to what I'm experiencing -- lots of work, goal in sight, no progress.