Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

Is it right that old times be forgotten?  That’s what the interpretation of the song “Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?” would mean in today’s language.

The lyrics were penned way back in the day by Robert Burns.  He was commiserating over an old friendship and wondering if the past and the memories made would be forgotten as people went their separate ways.  Later, parts of the song were used in what is traditionally a song that many sing at the stroke of the midnight hour as the old year ends and a new one begins.  "For auld lang syne" could even be loosely translated as "for (the sake of) old times."

During the late hours of the night and in between the wee hours of the morning, I often find myself wide awake.  Last night was one of those times.  Without going into a lot of detail, suffice it so say that Facebook was my companion and I spent several hours perusing its records of old friends, classmates, and folks I have known for a while.  I checked out so many pictures that I hadn’t taken time earlier to enjoy, read some of Greg’s funny statuses, learned about grandkids, trips, and weather events.  And then I noticed some things that I wasn’t seeing:  pictures and recollections of certain couples.  Where were the comments and notes, the Christmas Card to the world?  

Earlier I had been reading of a woman in my county who had lost her husband recently through the carelessness of a drunk driver and her words pierced my heart as she shared her grief over the loss of this man who was so vital to so many.  It reminded me of a once-great friend who too has lost her husband much earlier than expected--for come on, who of us really thinks that “happily-ever-after” has such a short time limit imposed on it?  

As I read the widow’s (wow:  what an ugly word for one so young!) words about dealing with the day in and day out occurrences that she was facing, my heart just ached.  For you see, not only was she left behind:  her kids--their kids!!--and their family and their neighbors and their church also had to deal with this grief.  He was a pastor and she was his wife.  She posed the question what was she to do with herself because her role in life had unexpectedly ended, for how does one be a pastor’s wife when the pastor is no longer in the picture?  Why this additional loss?  What about her missions, her dreams, her calling to be by his side and fulfill these obligations of today when she took those vows to stand by her man all those years ago?  Who was she now that he was not there to partner with her?

Ironically, as I soon discovered in my Facebook readings, another friend, an old acquaintance, a woman whom I once loved and admired and just about idolized during my teen years was facing the same challenge, although not due to death.  The details were and are sketchy but from what I saw, she is handling the situation with grace, with dignity, and with the much-necessary comfort of our Great God.  “Should I reach out to her” I asked myself.  “What would I want should the position be reversed:  someone I barely knew anymore to be sticking her nose in my business or an old acquaintance, an old buddy and sometimes pal to remind me that those friendships from long long ago that were based on simplicity, honesty, and innocence could still have an effect to touch a soul?”  

I bit the bullet and sent her a note.  I was so scared that it would be taken the wrong way because so many times when I reach out to someone that’s what happens.  My efforts fall short or my motives are misinterpreted.  Did I mention how much I once loved this girl?  That was the final push, the lead in my gasoline.  Even though during my times of heartbreak and loss she didn’t once reach out to me, is that what really mattered?  No.  Love-- friendship-- isn’t a 50/50 proposition.  It doesn’t keep score.  It doesn’t rely on constant communication to be there.  It is ready to help when the need of the other may be a silent cry that many have ignored.  It is the jump-in-blindly-with-an-attempt-to-deflect some of that hurt that has been thrust on someone I used to would have fought anyone who messed with her over.

Old acquaintances.  Forgotten friends.  Let’s not neglect them, let’s not pretend that we don’t see, don’t hear, don’t know of the pain they are suffering.  I could reach out to the woman in my town who lost her best friend, lover, and father to her children but...but there’s no connection there.  Yes, I hurt for her but this old friend from my hometown?  I hurt with her.  Her pain is mine.  We once shared similar dreams, sang songs together, fretted over tests, boys, and wondered if our athletic prowess would be enough to bring victory to our schools.  We rode busses together, drank Dr. Peppers, and squeezed each other’s hands as we waited to see if we would be in the top ten ranking in class so that we could represent our school as marshals for the last Eighth Grade Class of Clearmont Elementary School.

Is it right that old times be forgotten?  Sometimes.  Often, because truthfully, some trips down Memory Lane are best left untraveled.  But this time?  No.  I reached out and she responded.  It was worth the risk.  

While none of us know what tomorrow holds nor who will be by our sides as we explore it, I do know that love never fails.  This day my hope is that you too will do it afraid, that you will love without reserve, and that that old friend (and the new ones as well) who once held a bigger piece of your heart than she might now--well, my hope is that your heart still has some room for her.  For auld lang syne, my dears.  For auld lang syne.

How Many Times Do You Have To Be Told To Do Something?!

Check out the fella on the left of this threesome.  Handsome guy, isn’t he?  His name is Kevin and he is one of my fondest memories of my first year’s teaching experience.  I had started off this journey later in life, trying to fulfill my dream of being an educator, and to say it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done would be an understatement!  But this blog isn’t about that so read on.  I promise to keep it brief!

My class of Juniors was a lively bunch and I was often reprimanded by the principal as having one of the loudest classrooms on the hall.  There weren’t doors and the walls didn’t go all the way to the top so there was no way of keeping anything sacred, if you know what I mean.  One day, after trying so many ways to keep this group focused, I made the statement that I was only going to tell them one time to do something.  Kevin, in his disarmingly charming way, came up to me, laid his hand on my shoulder, and sincerely looked me in the eye.  Then he stated, “Ms. Hutcheson.”  Gleeful look in his eye, he continued.  “You know we have to be told at least twicet!”

Fast-forward with me to today’s early morning Bible reading in Acts 10.  Remember the disciple Peter?  Yeah, the one who denied Christ.  That Peter.  Well, once again we find him arguing with Jesus about something he was clearly told to do.  How clearly?  Three times!  Three!  Just as when he was questioned in John 21:15-22, Peter had to be told three times to do something.

So, in conclusion, I wonder:  how many times does it take for you to mind Christ?  One? Two? More? Are you trying to argue with Him about something(s), some point that He has already made clear to you?  Don’t be a Peter.  Or a Kevin.  Or a me.  Do it the first time.  You just might be surprised at the results!

Let’s pray!

Dear Lord, please forgive us when we question Your commands.  Oh sure:  we know we can talk to You about anything and it’s okay for us to have questions for You.  However, Lord, when we know--and let’s face it, God:  we usually know what it is You are telling us to do--but don’t want to obey, then please, Father, be gentle with us as You were with Peter.  Use us to further Your kingdom and help us to be more obedient about the tasks You ask us to complete.  

Thanks Lord!  We love You and appreciate Your guidance in our lives.  And should we not get it by the third time, again Father I pray, don’t lose patience with us.  But should You have to get the paddle out, have mercy I pray!  In the name of Christ Jesus, amen!

Mary Memories

Mary Memories

Greetings from a cold, chilly, and captivating Myrtle Beach!  Brr.  The things one does to catch the glimpses of the brilliant and beautiful sunrises around here.

As I braved the cold way-below normal temperatures for this wondrous place, I couldn’t help but think of all the sacrifices my dear Lord made for me.  Seriously Stef:  you are just mere steps away from a well-warmed hotel room so that you can enjoy this spectacular sight and you have the audacity to complain about your fingers going numb while you take a few photos?  Brat!  Just think of what Christ endured so that you could have this privilege.  I think a few moments of “harsh reality” you can take.

After I stopped berating myself, I noticed the seagulls, out for their morning nourishment.  As their elegant flight was all about me, it reminded me as the sun was quickly approaching that one day I too shall spread my wings in flight.  I too shall bask in the luminosity that is my Lord’s, as I circle in the air towards Him.  My sister Mary loved the beach!  We grew up in California and spent a bit of time at the coast though truthfully, I can’t recall those times.  However, after she had been diagnosed with the cancer that took her from me over eight years ago, we did get to revisit the Pacific Ocean and share some sweet memories there before she passed away.

Mary’s favorite hymn was “I’ll Fly Away.”  As I watched the seagulls circling around, I remembered Mary.  I remembered the lyrics to this song.  I rejoiced as I reflected that some glad morning, I too shall fly away.  When the shadows of this life have gone, I get to rise to my Jesus.  Just a few more weary days...just a few.  And in the spirit of not being whiny, they really aren’t so troublesome.  Nah:  my life is great and I am thankful for my many blessings.  But...should the Lord call me home--whether in the morning or the still of the night or sometime in between, I’m ready.  Will I meet you in mid-air, friends?  Hope so!  

Just A Glimpse

I am so blessed.  There is so much beauty around me and I often am overwhelmed at the sights presented to me.  

I’m also greedy.  I want more.  So much so that I asked Steve to build me a tower so that I could better see the sunsets that my sweet Lord provides for me.  You see, I get a glimpse of them as the sun makes its way down the horizon but...but there’s a house in my way.  There’s not a vantage point from my deck, my kitchen window, or even in my ‘hood when I take a walk to try to consume more of the delights the Lord provides for me through His creation.  I’m only allowed a taste of this and it whets my appetite for what is not seen.  “If I had a tower,” I tell my love, “then I could have a much better view.  I could see over the houses and beyond the trees.  I could take more pictures and…”  And don’t let me forget how I could also see the marvelous sunrises from the east!

But then reality sets in.  Yeah.  Like I’m really going to climb the stairs that would lead up to this turret.  Me?  Ha!  If the dictionary had a picture that defined “lazy” the one featured would be of me.  And yet...yet some things are worth a little more effort, don’t you think?  If I had a tower, with a lift attached to it (an elevator would be swell!), just think how many more sunsets I could witness.  It’s a good argument.  Not a practical one, but if you lived in my ‘hood and saw the weekly joys the Lord provides for me, you’d better understand.  And then again, if you saw my husband’s monthly paycheck, you’d also understand how this is just not a feasible project to undertake.

Moses must’ve felt some of my pain as he too was a witness to the great and glorious splendors of God.  He, however, was on a higher plain (pardon the pun) than I am and Moses wanted to see the most beautiful sight of all:  God Himself.  Now God is a pretty smart fella and He knew Moses could not take this and live.  His--is there even a word for it?--magnificentness(?) could not be beheld by a mortal man but God, Who also is quite gracious, did allow Moses to see a little something of Himself.  Just a taste.  Just a brief view to grant his request, in part, but also to leave him hungering for more.

Then He said, “I will make all My goodness pass before you, and I will

proclaim the name of the Lord before you. I will be gracious to whom I

will be gracious, and I will have compassion on whom I will have

compassion.”  But He said, “You cannot see My face; for no man shall

see Me, and live.”  And the Lord said, “Here is a place by Me, and you

shall stand on the rock.  So it shall be, while My glory passes by, that I

will put you in the cleft of the rock, and will cover you with My hand while

I pass by.  Then I will take away My hand, and you shall see My back;

but My face shall not be seen.”  Exodus 33:19-23

Now, I’m no Moses but this story parallels my own desire.  If Moses was only allowed a smidgen of God’s glory, how dare I whine about not getting my fair share?  Who am I to think I should get more than what is already provided for me?  

Seriously, Stef?  How many times do you neglect watching the sun set because you are too busy to take a moment to appreciate this wonder?  So many other distractions vie for your attention.  Do you really think if you had a tower that you’d be up there nearly every night and first thing each morning to witness such splendor as is provided for you?  At least Moses was diligent in his mission in life.  You can’t even be bothered each day to spend a few precious moments of your time basking in the beauty that is surrounding you--and not just in the heavens.

Ouch!

Sigh.  I love it (yes, that is sarcasm) when I write to myself.  

Okay, Lord, I get it.  I can only handle so much because of my inability to appreciate all that is already provided for me.  And it’s certainly not that You are stingy, oh no!  You consistently provide delights for my eyes to take in, for my ears to listen to, for my tongue to taste, my skin to feel, and ahh, the aromas You tantalize my nose with!  The fragrance of You is everywhere, Good Lord, and I am blessed.  

Thank You, Father.  Thank You!  I should not ask for more so please help me to...not be satisfied but to be grateful for what I have and anticipate with greater longing the beauty that is not made for these human eyes.  I can’t wait!  I cannot wait to see You most of all and what a day that will be, Lord God, when a beauty like no other is presented to me.  My face may not be as bright as Moses’ was after he saw his portion but may my heart and eyes shine with the love I have for You until that day is my earnest prayer.  Asked in the name of Jesus, with much gratitude, Lord, I repeat the cry of “Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly!”  Amen.

Son of Encouragement

Have you ever read the verse in Matthew 7:16 that says “By their fruits you will recognize them”?  Basically this means you can tell how someone really is by the way the world sees them through their actions.  This could further be explained by someone who really is a sports enthusiast.  This person lives, breathes, and dreams about a certain sport--say football--and you cannot be in his/her presence without hearing how great the Dallas Cowboys are, what a fine quarterback Dak Prescott is and how well he and Ezekiel Elliott mesh, and about Jerry Jones and Tony Romo and what they mean to the team.  

Now me, personally, I have been a Cowboys fan for quite a while now.  My loyalty is secure in them and has been since the days of Troy Aikman.  Jimmy Johnson?  One of the best coaches ever!  However, there are some folks whose favorite teams aren’t doing as well this year (ahem, Virginia) and they are seeking a new team to follow to the Super Bowl.  Why not jump on the Cowboy Bandwagon? Everyone knows they are America’s team, right?  And who doesn’t love a winner!  Also, there has been much hype about this connection that Ezekiel and Dak have found.  Their chemistry on the field is one for the record books, and justifiably so.  They are on a roll right now and they are the ones to watch.

So, what is this to me?  Well, as I said, I’ve been a diehard Cowboys fan for most of my life.  But as I was reading in Acts this week, another fella has stood out to me.  His name is Joses.  Never heard of him?  Or, like me, you kind of skimmed over his name in favor of the other giants (pun intended) like Peter and John?  That’s why it’s a good idea to pay better attention to the scriptures!  

I actually read this story earlier in the week but purposed to go back because of one phrase that really caught my eye:  “Son of Encouragement.”  Wow!  What a nickname.  Here, read it yourselves and see what I mean:

“And Joses, who was also named Barnabas by the apostles (which is translated Son of Encouragement), a Levite of the country of Cyprus,”

Now you know as well as I do that there are a lot of folks in the Bible who have done some powerful and wonderful things, as well as for those whose names are listed in a less-favorable way for things that...Well, let’s just say weren’t so great.  Did these peoples get nicknames?  Let’s see:  there was Jacob--the deceiver.  David--a man after God’s heart.  John--the disciple Jesus loved.  And who could forget the Sons of Thunder (I wonder if mom was alive to tell the tale what stories we would be privy to that caused them to achieve this nickname)?  What about Rahab--the harlot.  Ouch!  That one kind of stings, huh?

I’m sure there are many more but Joses (also translated as Joseph) must have really made some impression to the early disciples to be called Barnabas.  Wonder what he did that was so special?  My husband is referred to by a certain woman at church as “Smiley” because--you guessed it--he smiles a lot.  Was Joses a friendly fella?  He must’ve been.  Generous?  Oh yeah:  he sold his land and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet.  Do you think he was trying to buy his way into their good graces, to pay for their favor?  Mmmn, I don’t think so.  Although, I must say, being supportive is definitely a trait that draws others to you.  I mean, who doesn’t enjoy getting a high-five for a job well done or pats on the back after a harrowing speech or an understanding look when those around just don’t seem to get what you are trying to teach?

Barnabas went on to be named as an apostle and journeyed with Paul at times.  You can read more of his story as you wander through your studies and when you do, remember:  he was called the “Son of Encouragement.”  When people read your story (and trust me, although it may not be written down on parchment, you are still being known through your daily walk), what will they remember about you?  What nickname will come to mind?  Hopefully, it will be a positive one!  And if for some reason you have been stuck with a label that is no longer appropriate for who you are now?  My prayer is that God will allow you to be used to show your new name that has been written down in glory and that you too will be honored with a name that brings a smile to those who hear it.

Let’s pray now!

Dear Lord, in my own life I have been called many names, some of which are still hurtful as I recall them.  Yet through Your great mercy and love, those names no longer apply to me and I get to be known as Your child.  Ahh, what a relief there is in being called a Christian, for it means I have been with You!

Father, for those who are still hindered by their pasts, I ask a special blessing today for them.  May they be seen through Your eyes as others look upon them today?  May Your light shine through them so that, as Brandon Heath sang, others can see that they too aren’t who they used to be:  that in You, they are a new creation?  

Thank You, Lord, for lessons in life.  Although we cannot rewrite history, we can change how we will be remembered and how we are known.  May we find our strength and our well-being in You is my prayer today, Lord.  I love You so much!  Amen.

Thumbs Up?

When I write, I can better focus on God.  The occasional squirrel may continue to distract and the rabbit chasing may continue, but they are a smaller colony than if I just let my mind wander without any direction.  With either pen or pencil in hand, or fingers firmly planted on the keyboard, my thoughts take direction and even though these fingers aren’t as nimble as they once were, they do their best to keep up with the rampant thoughts that meander through my mind as I wander and wonder about God.

The other night during one of our Bible Studies, I had to just stop and stare at my thumb.  It was not cooperating and I was mesmerized as I just stared and glared at it.  Why was it holding me back?  Did it not know that there were words that needed to be penned?  The audacity of it to just quit; to just go numb.  Why would it not move?!

As I kept studying it, willing it to come back to life, I had to slow my thoughts down and try to make them stay at bay until they could become these great words of art that needed to be immortalized.  That in turn led my wandering mind to the question “By whom, Stef?  Who really needs to read these words?”

Wow!  It’s bad enough when friends betray you but when your own self won’t even support you?  Ffff!

So, between my unruly thumb and my unkind mind, my fingers have not been producing blogs lately because I am conflicted about why I even bother.  I mean seriously, how many people are even reading these works of heart (notice how I made that rhyme with my earlier statement of “words of art”)?  

I know of One.  Almost always two but definitely the One.  

As I read in Acts this morning about some guy named Jason, my eyes were drawn to the footnotes.  I tell you what:  this Life Application Study Bible (New King James Version, Large Print, published by Tyndale) sure has some great reference notes!  Often I find myself encouraged by them as I seek a greater understanding of what I read or am about to read.  But I stray (see what I mean about those rabbits?!).  Jason was this fella who quietly stood up and stood for what he believed to be truth.  As Paul made his way about Thessalonica, he and Silas were hosted by Jason.  Later, Jason had to post bond when the Jewish leaders weren’t tracking with the message these saints of God were trying to share, even though it could potentially cost him his property and/or his life.  Read Acts 17: 1-9 for this story and for those of you who do not have the Study Bible that I use, let me share these thoughts with you from the study notes provided:

• Paul spoke to the people on the level that they were at.  He began with the Old Testament, finding common ground with them, then affirming what they knew before going on to new truths.
• Those who were against the teachings of Paul and Silas and their popularity were the ones who caused riots because they were rooted in their own personal jealousies instead of the pure doctrine.
• Jason is one of those many (perhaps even like you and hopefully like me) unsung heroes of the Bible who was faithful in doing his part to spread the Word.
• This one should have a star beside of it because it is what thrilled my soul this morning, and I quote:  “You may not receive much attention (in fact, you may receive only grief) for your service for Christ.  But God wants to use you.  Lives will be changed because of your courage and faithfulness.”
• Later, in verse 16, the footnote reminds me that Paul used his internal conflict for positive opportunities to share Jesus--for you see, “his spirit was provoked within him”  (like mine often is!!).

As Paul continued teaching and reaching the folks who were at Athens, he wasn’t always met with open arms.  However there were some great scholars there who did listen to him, questioned him, and wanted to hear more.  Sadly though (as I find myself wondering if this should be my life verse) there were others who said, “‘What does this babbler want to say?’” This is found in verse 18.  Paul then went on to teach them about their unknown God and showed them his.  The encouragement from verse 32?  Priceless!  Let me quote it for you:

And when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked, while others said, “We will hear you again on this matter.”

I don’t know how many of you are out there who have “liked” Wandering Through The Bible actually still read it, just occasionally glance at my pictures/quotes/memes and go on, or who maybe secretly read it but just never comment on it.  But regardless of this and of how often the devil tries to tell me I am a fool, I’m still going to keep writing and posting.  Not just for you--although my sincere desire is to share Christ with you--but because when I write, I can better focus on God.  The occasional squirrel may continue to distract and the rabbit chasing may continue, but they are a smaller colony than if I just let my mind wander without any direction.  With either pen or pencil in hand, or fingers firmly planted on the keyboard, my thoughts take direction and even though these fingers aren’t as nimble as they once were, they do their best to keep up with the rampant thoughts that meander through my mind as I wander and wonder about God.  

My audience of One is why I write.  My number one supporter who often tells me he misses being inside of my head is also a major reason I continue this blog because iron sharpens iron and we need each other to stay strong.  And for those of you who actually do spend your precious time reading this and not just clicking a sporadic “like” every once in a while to humor me?  Thanks!  I mean this.  I know I can be long-winded at times but my hope is that these words will bless and encourage you to seek what it is that you need to make your walk with Christ a better one.  If I can do that for even one of you, then my labor is not in vain.  And when I do it with God as my intended critic?  Then maybe I can be a Jason too.  A girl can dream, right?  

Let’s pray!

Dear Lord, as I strive to write down my thoughts and share them publically, I must keep in mind that it is Your approval, Your “likes” that matter most, and that I won’t be admired, accepted, or acknowledged by those whom I falsely seek affirmation in.  

Oh Lord:  keep my pride at bay as I continue the minute by minute struggle to stay focused on You and the works You would have me to do.  Constantly remind me, I beg, to remember that this life is not about me.  It’s You and You alone Who deserves all the fame and acclaim.  And You are where my hope is found.  I place my hope, my dreams, and my self in You, Lord God, through Jesus Christ.  Amen.

You Don't Even Know Who I Am or You Never Even Called Me By My Name

Don’t you just hate it when a song you don’t particularly care for runs incessantly through your mind?  Me too!  Case in point:  as I was pondering this verse and what I was hoping to glean from it--thinking along the lines of mistaken identity and such--the chorus to Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band’s “Fortunate Son” traipsed through my head.  Sing it with me and let’s hope that the connotation will go from being a wrongly accused senator’s son, millionaire’s son, and military son to being a rightly acknowledged child of God.

It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me.

Have you ever been mistaken for somebody else?  It happens to me.  A lot!  Thankfully, for most of those times, it’s someone who is loved, liked, or at least well-thought of.  Sometimes this dear woman at church for no reason other than her own goosiness calls me “Phyllis” and we laugh about it because there is just no rhyme nor reason to it.  But there have been those times when I was called by another’s name that I just did not appreciate the label.

“Mary, do you know the answer to why the right angle in this problem is not 90 degrees?”  

“Kassie, can you tell the class why Mr. Darcy is so proud and afraid of his feelings for Ms. Bennett?”  

As a former school teacher myself, I know how hard it is to remember all the student’s names so in hindsight I will cut these former educators some slack (ahem Ms. Campbell, Mr. Buckner, and Ms. Higgins) now but back then, it really did not make my day. My only satisfaction come from the fact that my younger brother would now have one more name to add to his list of people he was called as his turn at Mountain Heritage was soon to come!

Other cases of being confused for another involved things that could go for me in the positive--such as being given credit for a task that I had honestly had little if any part in.  Or they could continue negatively, as was more often the case, when I was blamed for something I did not do but because of my proximity to the instance was readily accused.  Guilt by association?  Perhaps.  Often, it’s just easier to hit the target closest to one instead of taking the time to investigate what really happened.

In the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, two sisters were identified:  Martha and Mary.  I hadn’t really considered it much until today, but as one reads this story in John 11, verse 2 stands out for giving further future detail to Mary.  She was the one who would later perfume Jesus’ feet with her costly ointment as she washed those tender and tired tootsies with her very own hair.  Foreshadowing certainly lends excitement to this passage, don’t you think?

Anyway, what difference does this make to me, to you, and in the whole grand scheme of things?  I’ll tell you!  Yesterday my pastor taught on John 7:3-9.  Well, he meant to but for some reason didn’t quite make it all the way to the end of these verses but…What caught my attention was verse 5: “For neither did His brethren believe in Him.”

Ouch!  Those old prickles started poking me, jabbing at me with full force, as I tried to not squirm at the pain they were causing me.  So many times in my life I have been the victim of unbelief.  Sure, there were the times of being confused for another and no matter what I said, I couldn’t convince that soul that I was not Betty Jean who lived down the road back in 1987 in such and such town.  And the times mentioned above when I was called by one of my sister’s name.  And those times when I was falsely under suspicion for something that had not gone right--again, through no fault of my own.  But what was pricking me the most was that no matter how I try to shake off the shame of who I was, my following (if you will) today does not believe in me.  

Why?  Why is it so hard to get supporters who will jump to my defense instantly--even before hearing the facts?  Where is that sense of loyalty to me that I see in so many memes that talk about the friend who is beside the other in the jail cell because she took up for her, in spite of who was wrong or right:  it just was the thing to do?

Where are those to champion me in my endeavours regardless of how silly they might be or because this is the 6,873,492 new venture I have set out on?  Why can’t I be a Mary (and no, not my real sister Mary but the Mary Magdalene here in this verse)?  Why can my fame not be spread abroad in a positive way that makes others want to know me more, to be my number one fan, friend, and proponent--instead of constantly opposing me because they think I am not worth their time?  Why does even my own family (spare my ever-faithful husband) shun endorsing me when I have fought so valiantly to become the woman I am today?  Can they not see who I am or...or are they just too uncaring to see my success and would rather dwell on my past failings?  Does this somehow make theirs seem not so bad?

Sigh.

In conclusion, I didn’t want this to be a Stef-pity blog so let me try to end it on an encouraging note.  As I pondered on Pastor Dale’s message from yesterday and had my little pity party for one, my good Stef (she really does exist!) played devil’s advocate and began to wonder whom she has not been supporting, whom she has not been loyal to, and whom she needs to pay more attention to.  There are so many needy people right in front of me!  

Lord, open my eyes to see them!  Open my ears to hear their silent cries for attention!  Melt my heart to the pains they are feeling.  And Lord, as the pastor concluded yesterday, don’t let me--like Jesus (oh the audacity of me to compare myself to Him but I must in order to reach that level of perfection)--be taunted by the word “if.”  

“IF I am who I say I am, then prove it to those more favorable ones who can notice my works and declare my fame.”  

Un unh, Lord God.  IF I am who I say I am, then let my words speak for themselves.  Let my actions of today prove true.  Let those whom I may minister to via this blog and in my personal life--though they may be few in number--may they see You in me, the hope of glory, the assurance that You give for mending broken vessels and giving them the opportunity to allow light to still shine through them.  

And mostly Father?  May my name be one that is uttered with reverence as Mary’s was when it was associated with Yours.  Not so that I may be glorified, God but that You will be as the world realizes I do these things not for show but so that I may grow closer to You and share Your mercies and grace.  That is indeed my prayer and while it might seem audacious to some, I intend to be bold in my faith, Father.  I am Your daughter and it’s past time that I claimed that title!  In the name of Jesus Christ I pray these things: amen!