A - Z Challenge - K: Kettle

Hiya. 

How many times have I let my blog gather dust for a lengthy period of time and then announced a comeback that doesn't happen?  Several times I have declared that I'm back, announced that this time I'm here to stay, definitely, watch this space because great things will happen and... and... then, nothing. Fade back into oblivion until the next burst of enthusiasm. Or guilt. Or something.

Well, no more. Never let it be said that I am not a creature with the ability to learn. It might just take time.

So, yes, I am back, right now. 

Tomorrow? Who knows? 

The A-Z Challenge that I started has long finished, slept for a year and finished again, but I am choosing not to care. Not to focus on the yawning gaps, but just embrace the fact that I'm here now, not making any promises to anyone; not to God, not to my faithful reader, not to myself. 

I shall put the kettle on. As my teenage daughters might say, BRB.*

* Be Right Back. 😉

A - Z Challenge - I: Inadequate

Another repost - I'm trying to tell myself that this is not cheating, that it is still a way of reconnecting with my writing, but I fear I'm kidding myself. I can't believe that I used to have so many ideas and so much time. But - maybe that makes this post altogether more relevant to Right Now as well as Then. 

Maybe.

(First published as 'How to be a Small, Inadequate, Mighty Warrior').

Gideon had a word with me the other day.
I'm sure you've met Gideon. His story can be found in the Book of Judges in the Bible. 

I am drawn to Gideon. He felt small and inadequate, and I know that feeling.

Judges 6:12.  God sent an angel to chat with Gideon and the first thing the angel said was, 'The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.'

At this point I imagine Gideon looked behind him, because clearly there must be a mighty warrior nearby that he hadn't noticed. He wasn't feeling very mighty, or warrior-like; he was feeling defeated and weak and insignificant. What's more, he didn't feel particularly that God was on his side, but he rallies and very politely comes over all cynical:

'If the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders...?'

Gideon was quietly doing his thing, minding his own business, and God came and told him to stop doing his thing, and go do a great thing.

'Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?'  

What about that? The clue is in 'Am I not sending you?' If Mighty God was telling Gideon that he was equal to the task of fighting the Midianites, then he probably was. Of course, this is easy for me to say. I'm not the one hiding from these same people and wondering what on earth is going on.

Gideon argues:

"'But Lord,' Gideon asked, 'How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.'"

You've got the wrong guy.

But God is patient and reassuring.

'Pull yourself together, Gideon. Blimey, how many times do I have to tell you? I am GOD. If I tell you you're going to be Superman, then you're going to be Superman. For Pete's sake, man up.'

Or not quite like that. God tells him that he would be with him.

Time and time again Gideon asked for proof that it was God, proof that God definitely was talking to him, proof that he'd heard God correctly. Did God get impatient? No, God humours him. Did God get a bit annoyed that he kept asking for a sign? Nope. God gave him signs.

God is endlessly patient. But that isn't the whole story. Of course, there's the bit about Gideon's defeat of the Midianites, the ongoing chronicles of the people of God and the glory of the Almighty shining through humble servants, there's that. But the thing that struck me is how God stoops down to choose ordinary people to do the extraordinary. When those ordinary people have hangups ('But I'm weak! How can I do this thing for you?') or insecurities ('I am the least in my family!') He reassures and equips.

God says: I will be with you. I'm going to hold your hand.

Go in the strength you have.

God didn't make Gideon feel strong. He didn't double the size of his muscles, or give him a couple of tanks and a huge army - He simply said, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?'

If God is sending us, we'll be alright. He wanted Gideon to trust that he would be equipped when he needed equipping. Not right up front, able to see how things would play out, no surprises; to step out, just as he was, knowing that the Lord was fighting with him.

God wasn't talking to the person behind him who had bigger biceps and a bit more charisma.  I don't think it's any different today.  God says to me and you, 'I am with you.'

Doesn't He say to us, 'Go in the strength you have?' and, 'My power is made perfect in weakness.' (2 Cor 12:9) Doesn't He ask us to step out in faith, no knowing all the answers, with the knowledge that He is beside us and will give us what we need when we need it?

Forget the woman on the other side of church who is more beautiful than I am, more confident. Forget the other folks who are publishing their books and getting great reviews. Forget the guy who writes the blog that has so many more hits than mine. God has something else up His sleeve for them that's none of my business.

There is a plan just for me. God knows what He's doing when He asks someone to do something.

Sounds straightforward, doesn't it?

Funny how the Bible has been around so long and yet nothing changes. I compare myself with others just as Gideon did and I find myself wanting, just as he did. I wonder why I should try anything when that mean little snipy voice tells me that it's been done better by someone else already. I wonder why I should even entertain the possibility that God has a calling for me, little me, pathetic little me... just as Gideon did.

I'm not saying that I am a spiritual giant of the stature of the Old Testament heroes. But what I heard as I read the story of Gideon this morning is that the Biblical Big Guns had cold feet too. Even they doubted themselves and felt small and insignificant sometimes.

I so often feel ill-equipped for the task of living as God would have me live just on a day to day basis. If God has something for me to do, or say, or write, or tell people about, then I'm quite sure I'll worry about that too. Why me? How, me? And yet the answers are right here.

'Am I not sending you?'

If the Lord God Almighty is asking, then I'm dancing. If He's sending, then I'm going. Because He also says, 'I'll be with you.'

There's no safer place than where God is. Even on a battlefield (and my life sometimes feels just like a battlefield). But look what Gideon did. He defeated the Midianites, just as God said he would, even if he was from the weakest tribe, even if he was the least in his family. 

God was right. How 'bout that?

So when I feel defeated by circumstances and inadequate and afraid, I should remember that God's power is perfect in weakness. Well, that's something I can do: if weakness is required, I can provide it!  In buckets. When I am weak, He are strong. If God is by my side, and I am hearing His voice, then I have sufficient strength for the next step. He will provide all I need.

I need faith, Lord. Always more faith. Sometimes believing is hard.

I need to hear the voice that told Gideon, 'Go in the strength you have. Am I not sending you?

Amen, Father.

A - Z Challenge - E: Ebenezer

All day today I've had a line from that beautiful song, 'Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing'* going through my head: 

Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here by Thy great help I've come

My Ebenezer. Nothing to do with Scrooge, other than that Scrooge was named after one of these, I guess, but an intriguing word indeed. 

Let me point you towards 1 Samuel 7:12.

Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

A stone named Ebenezer. 

Samuel set it up to mark God's faithfulness so far on his journey. 'Lord, you have helped us get this far'. In the song, the same. The writer of the song is saying that in some way he is marking this point in his journey, and thanking God that it is because of His help that they have reached this point. 

As I said at the beginning of this little A-Z expedition, I am setting the bar low on my blog posts - a lot has happened since the days I used to be a prolific poster and I've had numerous false dawns where I've intended to get back into it and failed. So, nothing earth shattering happening here, if you happen to be reading. 

No profound conclusions or inspiring reflection. 

Just this: I wonder whether this blog post, eleven years since I started writing, is a kind of Ebenezer for me. 

I am still here, I am still following Jesus, I am still trying to communicate the wonder, awe and comfort that He gives to me. 

I could neither have begun this journey, continued to walk it, nor found the path again all the times I've wandered from it, without his help. 

A metaphor for life, indeed. 

The song goes on: 

And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home

Amen, Lord. 

And Just like Samuel, I am saying to anyone who is listening: If He's brought me safe this far, I think He'll bring me home.  

'Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing' by Robert Robinson, 1758. Words and music in the public domain. 

Mud pies and me too

Morning, Lord.

***

...and that's where I left it. Nearly two weeks ago.

Struggling to come here and struggling to talk to you and then clearly it's no surprise that I've got nothing to say. So, because I have nothing, I don't come here and I don't talk to you and the whole thing goes over and over and gets bigger and bigger. I become more and more self-conscious and more and more inhibited and I wonder if it's worth it at all.

Lord, I've got myself in a mess.

I know that you're with me always. I know that you're with me through thick and thin and I know that any progress I make comes from you. I know that you have given me gifts, and that you want me to use them. I know that you have a Plan for me and I know that your timing is perfect.

So, I reckon that you're used to me panicking when things go wrong; I moan and I complain and I cling onto you harder. I am there every time you turn round and when you do, you trip over me, I'm so clingy. I need you and I know it. But what's surprised me recently is how I panic when things go right.

It's only a little thing. Only small, and for some people I know who are way past where I am in this little journey of ours, it must seem tiny. Here it is (and I'm cringing as I write it):

I come and spend time with you, and for a couple of years now it's been my habit to have a waffle with you and then press a small orange button that says 'publish' and let other people in on my meanderings. Sometimes people tell me they liked what I shared. Sometimes there's a deafening silence. Sometimes it makes my heart swell when people tell me that you moved them to tears or to laughter through the words I tapped out. The best thing of all is when someone says, 'Oh, me too!' Then - that's when I know that you are smiling. There's nothing you like more than to see your children reach for each other in encouragement and love. That's when I know that there is nothing else that I want to do, other than this.

So over the last few months I've known that you were smiling. I've felt it, and so have others. People are joining in our conversations and maybe - who knows but you? - my dream is starting to come true and they are seeing you, hearing you, and joining their voices with mine, their prayer and praise with mine. It's wonderful.

People are so kind with words of encouragement, and then occasionally someone is unkind because the things I say about you make them angry and offended and they hit back with hurtful criticism. You don't leave me alone to handle it; you're there when they're mean as well as when they're nice. I have read it, worried about it, debated what to do with it and moved on past it a few times now. I know full well that not everyone will agree with me. I know that not everyone accepts what I know about you. Some people might some day; some never will.

It's the way it works.

But what I'm not used to is a growing audience. I'm not used to writing guest posts for other people's websites and then seeing visits here from a whole new set of people; family from around the world.

Chicken.

I know where you are when I'm in trouble, but these last few weeks I've lost sight of you when things go well.

I don't mean that I'm off doing my thing, basking in the sweetness of success, thinking that I can do it all alone; no. It's not that. It's as if it was so much easier when there were only a few people listening, and I knew almost all of them. I remember when I pressed the 'publish' button for the very first time. I wrote in my journal, 'Will anyone read what I've written? Why should anyone care?' and it was such a quiet, intimate thing. It was just me and you.

Nothing has changed. No, nothing. It's still just me and you. But in my head, I'm all self-conscious again. What on earth do people think?

In that first post-publish journal entry I said that it was up to you, Lord. Up to you whether anyone came by or not. Up to you whatever happened.

Nothing has changed.

I once had a friend who was always there for me when my life was in a mess. Broken up with a boyfriend? There she was with tissues and a bottle of wine. Struggling with exams or poorly or lamenting about the failure of the latest diet? She was there with sympathy and a listening ear and a bag of marshmallows.

But when things were going right? Nowhere to be seen.

She was my rainy-weather-friend and she didn't like to see me when I was happy. She didn't like things to be going well. I never really got to the bottom of why, as we drifted apart during a phase of my life when I was doing ok. She didn't return my calls and didn't come to drink coffee when there were no tears involved.

I feel as if I'm a bit like that right now. When it's you and me against the world (or when it feels like that) I am here all the time and I stay close, but when things start to go right; when you start to give me a little of what I've so badly wanted - I am off like a rat up a drainpipe. Off. Maybe it's safer to stay where things are familiar, anonymous.

What do I want, if not for people to read what I write? I firmly believe that if you have given me a gift, I should use it. If you want me to write, then you must want people to read what I write. So I should be pleased when people do, shouldn't I? Instead of panicking and going into a flat spin before running off and hiding. I should be happy instead of filled with anxiety. Encouraged and enthused instead of oppressed by it.

I have often wondered where I'm heading with all this, and I've chafed at what I perceive to be slow progress. I think I now understand why the brakes have been on - when you take them off, even for a moment, it rattles me so much that I stop in my tracks and start to sabotage the whole thing by standing in the road like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

People come to see what you and I talk about. So... if I don't talk to you, then they won't come any longer.  All subconscious, you know, but horribly effective. If there's nothing to see, they don't come. Why would they?

I've tried to work out what to do about this, and the only thing I can do is the same as I've always done. I lay it all in front of you.

Here it is. Here am I, with all my strange neuroses and unpredictable panics. It would be funny, if it wasn't so discouraging. I am used to failure, but give me something that goes right instead and I don't know what to do with it.

The amazing thing is that I laid this all in front of you and you smiled that slightly amused, indulgent smile that you smiled and you said, 'It's alright'. You found a handful of your best encouragers and you placed them where I'd find them. You linked me up with a few people that I may never meet in this life, who have become friends in the most meaningful sense of the word. Wise people whose words lift up, not destroy. People who are open and honest about the ups and downs of life and don't try to preach but just tell it like it is.

The Internet is a strange place. Some people criticise it for being shallow and trivial but I have found it exactly the reverse. There are people around the world who have helped me when I needed helping in just the right way. Other people who write who know how insecure it can make you feel. People who know that a word or two of encouragement - even when limited to 140 characters or a comments box - can change someone's day. Stop someone from giving up. Assure someone that they're not alone. Raise a smile when tears have been the order of the day.

I've said, 'I'm struggling,' and people said, 'Me too.'
I've said, 'This is hard,' and people said, 'It is. But you can do it.'
I've said, 'I don't know if I can do this,' and people said, 'Me neither, but He helped me, and He'll help you too'.
I've said, 'I worry that I'm not good enough,' and people said, 'We're not, but He is.'

Who'd have thought it? I've learned that if I stick my head above the parapet, the things that have hit and hurt the most haven't been thrown by anyone else but me.  I can talk myself out of the wonder and pleasure of any experience and find that it's easier to stay crouched down low, hiding, than risk going somewhere where the air might be cleaner and the view so much better.

CS Lewis once said:

'It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about ... when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday by the sea. We are far too easily pleased.'

Maybe I'm too easily pleased. I told you that it was alright if only half a dozen people read what I write, and it was ok if lots of people read it. Then when you move me away from a) towards b) I scuttle off back to my mud pies. I know where I am with mud pies. What do you mean, the seaside? That sounds very open and exposed to me...think I'll stay where I am...if you don't mind...

But no. That's not how it's going to be.

I just want to say, once again, that I am along for the ride. I just want to keep doing what we do together, Lord, you and me.

I want to notice you in my life, I want to tell people about what you're doing and I want to encourage and inspire.

I want people to see you and see how wonderful you are.

I want to be honest enough that people say, 'Me too,' because that connection is invaluable. I don't feel anywhere near such a failure when someone says, 'I feel that way too,' and I have such hope when someone says, 'I felt that way - and things are better now'. That's the power of connecting with people. Little words on a screen can pack such a punch.

I'm sorry that I've been all over the place lately. I'm sorry for the uncertainty and doubt and anxiety when you have always looked after me and you have always been the one who gives me words and there's no reason for that to change now.

It isn't about me. It isn't about me.

Thank you, Father, for your gentleness and compassion in this latest strange lesson in my life. Thank you for the honesty and vulnerability of those people whose struggles they've shared with me this past week. Thank you that you have introduced me to family scattered all over the world who are so different and yet all love you and are willing to reach out and be reached by brothers and sisters who need encouragement.

Thank you that you are a God who has no problem moving with the times and working  as powerfully through twenty-first century social media as you do through the pulpit and the printing press.

Thank you for every person who visits here and reads about you and about my limping, imperfect journey. Thank you (gulp) for stats and comments and guest blogs and 'Me too,' moments.

And, Lord, thank you for the words.

Thank you.

A prayer for bloggers

Ah. Hello God. 

I think this might be called facing a demon or two. 

I have just been reading a post by Ann Voskamp. 

Lord, you know how I feel about Ann Voskamp. You know that I follow her blog and you know that I devoured 'A Thousand Gifts' and even made notes on little sticky bits of paper (I can't ever bring myself to write in a book) and you also know how long it took me to actually open the book and start to read it. 

It sat on my bookshelf for months before I opened it, and before that my copy sat lonely on a shelf in Amazon before I brought myself to order it. You know why, and now I'm admitting it. I wasn't sure that I wanted to read it. 

I wish I could write like Ann Voskamp. 

I wish I had her wisdom, her insights, her hotline to you. I wish I had her eyes to see and her ears to hear. I wish I had her way with words, her lyricism, her skill with a camera, and yes, her success. 

I just said it, didn't I? 

taptaptap

I know that I shouldn't compare myself with other people. You made me me, you made her her. You have different plans for the two of us and your plan for me wouldn't fit Ann and vice versa. 

But...how can a farmer's wife and homeschooling mother of six write so prolifically, so beautifully, with such incisive wisdom and inspiration? How come she attends conferences and speaking engagements and makes TV programmes and keeps it all ticking over? I have two children who go to school, my house is not very clean, I don't have farm duties and I don't go out to work and the days are not long enough.

I so, so admire what she's done. When I read her blog quite often she tells me things I didn't know. She makes me see the world in a new way. She inspires me - and yet I sometimes come away feeling discouraged and I'm quite sure that is entirely the reverse of her intentions. 

If it has been said before, and so much better, then why should I bother even trying? 

I keep plodding on. I remind myself that it matters not the slightest bit what other people do. You don't look to me to point to anyone other than yourself. I can only use my voice to speak your words, no-one else's. I do what I do for you, not for anyone else.

Not for anyone else. Honestly.

Sigh.

So, then, Ann wrote this. Actually this is an excerpt from today's blog, which is a transcript of an address she gave at a conference for bloggers in America. And when I read it, I knew that it was for me. 

A Prayer for Bloggers 

by Ann Voskamp

I am no longer my own blogger, but Yours.

Refine me with each post how You will, rank me how You will.

Put me to service, put me to suffering.

Let me be a follower - instead of seeking followers

Lord, you and I meet up and come here most days, at some point. I don't know what I'd do without it these days. I remember the days a couple of years ago when I didn't come and chat with you this way and I wonder what I did instead (cleaning the bathroom? Surely not). Lord, it's all for you. It has always been for you, but sometimes it becomes about me, and I'm sorry. Sometimes the words try and run ahead of me and I need to slow down and listen, make sure that it's you I'm hearing, and not my own ego.

Let me post for You - or be put aside for You,

Lifted high, only for You, or brought low, all for You.

Do with me and each post whatever You will, because You alone know best.

I'm not feeling that comfortable with the 'put aside' and 'brought low' part, to be honest. Ann has more humility than I do, I think. I'm not over-sure about asking you to teach me humility, either; I'm not sure I like the sound of learning humility.... 

Getting myself a bit tangled up here. I can completely agree with the last bit though. You know best. Whenever I think I know best I invariably come unstuck. I'm learning.

Let me not strive but submit

Let me not compete but care

Let me not desire hits but holiness

Can't I have holiness and hits? I know, I'm sorry. I'm being flippant.

Lord, I just want to be with you. I want to be more like you. I want to speak you and point to you. I want people to hear you, through me. I want to be a part of your Plan. I want the world to be a different place because I've been in it and I've done as you asked me to. It isn't about me, though you know my heart and the longings you have placed there. Dreams and hopes are there and fears too. 

I trust you, Lord. 

And if I have to choose hits or holiness, let it be holiness. 

Let my blog be full of You, and let it be empty of me.

Let me crave all things of You, let me care nothing of this world.

Let my words be focus only on the greatest of audiences: You.

And you are enough.

My I write not for subscribers...but only for Your smile.

You are enough. Over and over again you have been enough. I don't doubt it. The world creeps in and steals my attention and I compare myself with others and never, ever, does any good come from that. I want to make you smile. 

May my daily affirmation be in the surety of my atonement not the size of my audience.

May my identity be in the innumerable graces of Christ, never, God forbid, the numbers of my comments.

May the only words that matter in my life not be the ones I write on a screen - but the ones I live with my skin.

I freely and heartily yield every sentence, every title, every post, every comment...or no comments...

all to Your pleasure and perfect will.

The words don't come from me. I know that. I ask you every time to give me words, to show me what you want me to say. Sometimes I know that you answered my prayer, sometimes I'm not so sure. I am a work in progress; I know that I get it wrong. 

Lord, it's all for you. I'm laying it right in front of you. 

My only fame is that I bear Your name

My only glory is the gift of Your Grace

My only readership, Your eyes that seek to and fro to find

Make this so. Lord...

Oh, Lord God, make it so. Help me get past the enormous and all-encompassing desire to please other people. I so want people to want me, to understand, to see, to tell me it's alright, that I've done alright. That I'm not a failure. I worry so much about what people think, and I dread failure and humiliation and the death of my dreams. 

And yet... I play to an audience of One. The only One that matters. Help me to learn this lesson deep in my heart and not just in my head.

Yawhew, you alone are my God, not Google

Jesus, you alone are my Comforter, not comments

So be it, today, yesterday, and every post to come.

Amen and Amen. Oh yes. You know my heart, Father God. You are enough.

O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, 

thou art mine, and I am thine.

This is my prayer I have made on earth, over this keyboard...

let it be ratified in heaven.

In Jesus' name,

Amen

You know, if I'd been at that conference I'd have had my eyes closed in prayer and the tears would have squeezed their way through. 

Sometimes it's hard, you know. 

I know that you know. I sit here and chat with you and I pour out my heart and I ask and I wait and I moan and I confide and I laugh and I hope - and I taptaptap and I press 'Publish' on the little orange button and it all feels very intimate and private. There are days when I can't find any words and there are days when I have so much in my head that I can't get it down fast enough and precious ideas dissolve and disappear because I can't pin them down. 

Then, just now and again, someone says to me, 'I know just how you feel' or, 'I thought it was only me' and it makes my day, because I know that you have spoken. Not me, but you. 

And I praise you because you could get your message across in a multitude of ways, any way you choose, and yet you chose me, and it blows me away. 

You are enough. Nothing else matters. 

Lord, bless this wise lady in all the different ways that you can bless her. Her words are reaching millions and every last one of them points to her Saviour. Help me to listen without comparing. To have a heart ready to learn and to pray this prayer every time I open the lid of my computer. 

Amen.

http://www.aholyexperience.com