Only if we could see ourselves as you see us
we only see through a dark window now
looking deeply into that time mirror
until we meet face to face behind the glass.
Let me see myself as your eyes see me
perfect in your sight because of your sacrifice.
Whatever He Says To You, Do It
Monday, December 26, 2011
Consider the present-day company that compares to those at Cana the day Jesus’ miracle ministry began; in the consideration we see modern examples of key players in the story. John 2
Mary, for example, was a catalyst. Her role set the stage when she spoke first to Jesus, then to the servants. Ultimately you could say Jesus followed her lead as did the servants Mary instructed simply “Whatever He says to you, do it.” Apparently she spoke with considerable authority or the servants would not have obeyed instructions from a woman since the culture then did not grant authority to a woman. And for the servants’ part, had they refused Mary’s instruction could the miracle have taken place?
The lesson is obvious: Authority is discernible and produces visible fruit; authority speaks and someone responds accordingly. Rules, doctrine and cultures do not dictate Godly authority, at least not ultimately. God alone establishes authority through those He chooses.
The Lord inhabits the lives of those available for the mission. He stirs their heart for divine purpose and speaks clearly to and thru them. His leading is neither complicated nor mystical and an obedient response is simply to discern His Spirit and honestly witness to His Truth. Philippians 2:13
Whatever He says to you, do it!
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted….”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”
“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.
I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
THE GOLD WRAPPING PAPER
Once upon a time many years ago, there was a gruff man who worked very hard just to keep food on the table for his wife and children. This particular year just days before Christmas, he punished his little five-year-old daughter after learning that she had used up the family’s only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper.
As money was so tight, he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve he saw that the child had used all of the expensive gold paper just to decorate one large shoebox she had put under the Christmas tree. He also wondered where she had gotten the money to buy whatever was in the shoebox.
Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, “This is for you, Daddy!”
As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, now regretting how he had punished her.
But when he opened the shoebox, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. “Don’t you know, young lady,” he said harshly, “when you give someone a present, there’s supposed to be something inside the package!”
The little girl looked up at him with sad tears rolling from her eyes and whispered: “Daddy, it’s not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full.”
The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.
An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept this little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems, he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us has been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God. There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.
Song of my heart, melody from within
Speaks louder now than it did then
The beats more invigorating,
The rhythm stronger yet
The crescendos magnifying
To the point you can’t forget
This song that plays within me
Even I do not know it well
For I have only begun to hear the notes
As they slowly are unveiled
They touch my ears and caress my heart
And open me up to things new
The notes take me down a path
That I didn’t know existed
As though walking through a forest
Not knowing where each one leads.
But this song – it is magnificent
And it was written long before my time for sure
And each day more notes are written,
More verses added. Even more complete.
The best part is that this is a song
That doesn’t ever have to end.
Even when I am long gone.
Even when my memory has faded.
Even when I am only a name
Written down on a page.
There will still be a song
Associated to my name.
That is heard in the hearts of many.
That makes people think.
And each person on this earth
Has a song. It starts before they
Are ever birthed into the physical world.
It started long long ago before
Creation was created and
Began in a heart that has a song of its own.
In a heart whose song is made up
Of the songs of the many He created.
Each song represents a key, a note, a tune…
And its beautiful. And one day Our song
Will be played before the Creator of All.
Our audience will consist of One who is
Holy, yet All, who ever existed. When the
Unity of the instruments we have been made
Come together to play at the Royal Wedding of
All weddings. It makes me wonder which
Instrument I am, and why He chose me to play
The sound that I make. It makes me wonder
What it makes His ears feel and what they hear…