Taking Out The Trash

Our new house is full of urgent and semi-urgent projects.  From the moment we took possession, there was a musty smell that was so strong it not only slapped us in the face when we opened the front door, but it seeped onto the front porch.  The gutters were packed with gunk, and when it rained, as it has quite often this summer, the water had nowhere to go and spilled off the roof in streams, creating little ponds of water on the ground.  An outdoor drain right outside the lower level door was filled with weeds and dirt and probably some raccoon waste.  Eeewww.  (Glad my husband landed the job of cleaning that, and not me!)  The floor of the master bathroom shower had a crack which had been unattended for several years.  The shower had still been used daily, however, and upon ripping out the shower, a rotted sub floor surfaced beneath.  The hall bathroom sported dated wallpaper and....carpet?  Yes, carpet.  Turns out the carpet concealed another rotting sub floor.  A floor so rotted that it reeked a potent odor permeating all parts of the house.  My little girl's room had a dated wallpaper border and one wall covered in thick decade-old paper.  I could go on.


All of these projects need to be done, and fairly quickly since little baby boy is set to join us in three to four months.  And all of them are producing piles of junk.  In addition to the unpacking that is still a daily chore, the old floors have to be trashed.  The carpet needs to be rolled and disposed.  Strips of wallpaper litter the bathroom and girl's bedroom floors.  I am constantly taking out trash, and the trash can is overflowing nearly as quickly as the truck takes it.  There are more boxes and packing paper and old tape and construction waste that need to be trashed every day.  I have been feeling almost buried in trash.  Hyperbole I know, but I wonder sometimes if I will ever get rid of it all.

But actually hauling it to the curb has sometimes been the easy part.  My hard-working husband ripped out the bathroom floor this weekend, and even though I provided no help in the process, I can tell you it was no small task.  He cut and ripped and hacked and sawed until the floor was gone.  It came out in lots of little pieces, from sawdust to splinters to blocks of wood.  His hours of manpower produced a heap of wood needing to trashed, but it also produced a solid new floor.  His work, often sidetracked by unforeseen problems, was necessary to build a sturdy floor for our family's home.  Several days before he started, he looked at the carpet in the bathroom, knowing the floor underneath was rickety at best, and said, "I am nervous about what I will find when I pull this carpet up."  I felt it too.  The trepidation of not knowing how awful the unseen situation would be.  But there was nothing to be done except start the project on Saturday morning if we wanted to have a fully functional and sanitary bathroom.  So hours of sweaty effort ensued.  And now I can look at a new sub-floor, ready for tile to be laid.

I have realized, as watch all the work being done on this house, that I also have a lot of trash to be taken out.  Not just the bathroom floor, but a lot of personally foul heart issues I must deal with.  Sometimes I feel a little concerned about what God will reveal to me if I start ripping up the rotting room in my heart.  But if I want a holy intimacy with the Lord, there is nothing to be done but start disposing of the trash I have allowed to grow.  Clear it out so that I can move closer to His side and see His guiding hand.  I know that the process will not be pleasant, and I anticipate a pile of disgusting refuse that bears witness to my former condition.  But, I know it must be done if I am to have a pure, holy heart.  But sometimes I don't know where to begin.

"Search me, O God, and know my heart!  Try me and know my thoughts."
                            --Psalm 139:23

God already sees all the useless trash within me: my anger, pride, selfishness.  I can't carpet over it with an old facade, or pretend that the stench won't color my whole life.  I must ask Him and then allow Him to reveal how to eliminate my personal trash.  He won't accuse.  He won't berate.  He is full of mercy and love, and He will receive me.  This I know.

“‘Return, faithless Israel,

declares the Lord.

I will not look on you in anger,

    for I am merciful,

declares the Lord;

I will not be angry forever.

13 

Only acknowledge your guilt,

    that you rebelled against the Lord your God"

--Jeremiah 3:12-13a

Let us  thank God that His mercy is abounding, and ask that He  reveal our hidden sins.  Lord give each of us the strength to deal with the hard truths you will reveal, and give us your enabling Spirit to help us rip out residual parts of the old man and firmly install Your righteousness.  May the door of my heart swing wide to reveal a spirit scrubbed clean with Your righteousness and walking steadfastly in Your will.

How to Tame the Heart and Mind

Have you ever been utterly side-swiped by a stunning injury that shattered your heart into pieces?  You were sailing along, fairly able to manage life, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere someone inflicts a wound.  Not just a minor my-feelings-are-hurt annoyance that can be overcome in a day or two, but something much larger.  A hole so large has been blown in your heart that it is hard to imagine ever not feeling a raw emptiness.  It is hard to know what hurts more: the thoughtless deed or the fact that someone who was once a safe place has inflicted the pain.


I have just been knocked off my feet by such a cyclone of grief.  Having experienced a close death in the past year, perhaps grief is too strong a word, but the ache feels pretty similar to that grief.  I am just beginning to face the day after a sleepless night nursing my wound, struggling to achieve a plateau of emotions.  I don't feel relief.  My thoughts and feelings keep swirling and feeding themselves, getting larger and larger.  The more I reflect on the wound and the wounder, the more pained I feel.  And yes, I can see a little bit of my old, ugly enemy, ANGER, rearing his head in the midst of my tumult of emotions.  What to do?  I hate feeling this pain, but I can't stop my mind from rehashing the shock of hearing the words that pierced my heart.  And I don't know how to stop my heart from bleeding.

I know that I should pray and "give this over to God."  (A worn, old-school phrase I heard repeated by preachers when I was young.   Yet as an adult facing very real problems, I don't exactly know what to practically do to "give something over to God.")  So I try.  I try to talk with God.  I attempt to ask Him why He has allowed such a pain.  But when ever I start the discussion, I think of something else that was said, or another jab and my mind veers off track.  How do I stop this cycle?  How do I let God capture my thoughts and let Truth reign?  How can I let Him cauterize my wound so that I don't start to fester and ooze the yellowish pus of bitterness?

I could use any and all help when it comes to moving past hurts, especially those recently occurred.  I don't have answers to this issue (but I would love some helpful, practical suggestions).  But I do know that if I don't even open my Bible and search for hope there will never be any soothing relief to my soul.  So I open the Psalms.  As I reading, focusing as best I can, which is hardly at all, it strikes me that Psalms is full of my emotions.  Despair, anxiety, fear, unanswered questions, frustrations, injustices done by David's enemies.  David is close enough to God to tell Him exactly what he is thinking and feeling, how much his heart is aching.  He wonders if God has even seen the darkness that surrounds him, and the injustice that his enemies heap upon him.  He shares it all with God, and peace and intimacy steal over him.  I can't read the Psalms without feeling an undercurrent that God is near.  He cares.  He will be the balm that my wound needs.  David is in deep pain and distress.  Both emotional and physical, but speaking all his pain to his father leads him to a coveted place: a strengthening of the knowledge that God is good, that He is near, that He sees, and that He will rescue.

I can't manufacture peace in my own heart.  I can't create a quiet spirit.  But I can emulate David in crying out to God, and I can be fully assured that His sweet spirit will minister to my needy soul.  There is no reason to churn my agony over and over in my own mind; I can and should run straight to the one place that can bring me healing and comfort: my heavenly Father.  Honest conversations with the Lord, coupled with an eagerness to receive His truth, will tame my anxious mind and soothe my aching heart.  I know nothing else can.

Hurry Up

I am punctual to a fault.  In fact, my dad used to say that if I arrived on time, I felt as though I was actually late.  Sad, but that actually pegs me pretty accurately.  As a mom, I am mildly ashamed to admit that both of my kids learned some of my patented phrases as their first words.  My little girl blurted out "Let's go!" nearly as soon as I could understand her, and my son clearly enunciates, "Get going!" and "Hurry!"  My obsession with being on time, and keeping to a schedule, is definitely reflected in their young actions and vocabulary.  Neither a good or bad habit, being on time is more of a hallmark for me.  Keeping to my schedule is helpful to keep my days running smoothly, exactly the way I plan them.

The only problem is that life doesn't usually fit into my schedule.  I usually try to cram it into my box without any success.  I have a plan.  I know what to do to accomplish it.  So, let's do it.  No stalling.  No reason to come to the end of the day with empty hands.  Lots of packed boxes sitting around, cluttering up your living space?  Work until you can barely keep your eyes open to unpack them.  Set a goal and them it.  Bathroom papered with dated ugly wallpaper?  Take all day to strip as much of it as possible and finish it the next day.  Done.  House re-organization and remodel still on schedule.  Let's go!  Hurry up and work until you finish. 


I do relax and unwind, but only after my schedule has been maintained.  I push and push to keep moving until the task at hand is completed or I can no longer move forward.  Even typing these words, it doesn't sound altogether healthy.  It sounds like I am missing something relevant and important in life.  With all of this pushing and striving and straining to be on time something is lacking.  I am missing out on the waiting.  Being still.  Contemplative quiet.

There is beauty in waiting.  Stunningly hidden beauty in waiting on the Lord.

"It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."-Lamentations 3:26

"Behold, this is our God; we have waited for Him that he might save us.  This is the Lord; we have waited for Him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation." --Isaiah 25:9

"But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me." --Micah 7:7

Yes, this is the part I need to to savor more.  Stopping and waiting.  And implied in the waiting is an ear tuned to the Lord.  What plans does He have for me?  My list says that today is the day the wallpaper is coming down, but my little girl needs to feel mama's arms around her.  Boxes of bathroom necessities sit in the bathroom,waiting to be unpacked, but my brother wants to chat as he drives to class.  Small things, but each I have overlooked in my mad rush to accomplish my own ideas for today.  I have not waited.  And I have missed the daily graces and the daily callings God has placed in my path.  I have failed to wait for my God.  

Funny how pushing through my list never brings me the satisfaction that I think it will.  But waiting for God's daily direction and setting my hands to His tasks never disappoints. 

For such a schedule-keeper as I, waiting for daily direction will take resolve.  I think it must for others as well, "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"--Psalm 27:14

I need Rest

The past several weeks have been even more of a whirlwind than I imagined they would be.  We moved our family into a new-to-us home, one that has been lacking tender care for quite some time.  The task of cleaning and repairing and unpacking and arranging looms quite large.  Sitting at our kitchen table early one morning, tiredness reigned in every fiber of my body.  Aching, physical tiredness.  But I felt something more, something deeper.  My husband and I had prayed about moving our family for well over a year.  We decided to follow God's leading and move away from the city into a surrounding county.  Closer to family, church family, into a community supportive of  home-educating and Godly pursuits.  Yes, we had dreams of what a new house would hold for us, but the appearance and amenities have always been secondary.  Where does God want to use us?  Where will He place us in order to grow our family in His knowledge and grace?  That morning, only a few mornings ago, seeing all the tangible work ahead of me needed to simply create a peaceful home for children and husband, my soul felt dry and depleted.  There was so much basic work required that thinking or planning anything deeper (sleepovers for my daughter, the upcoming school year, participating in church events) was unthinkable.

There is a mountain of work ahead of me, and I cannot fathom summoning the energy or strength I need.

I sipped my coffee and opened my Bible.  Joshua 1-3.  Halfway through I stopped after reading, "‘The Lord your God gives you rest and will give you this land.’" (Joshua 1:13 NASB) I re-read the whole verse, and then the preceding verses.  Joshua was giving instructions to the people of Israel as they were about to enter the land of Canaan.  God had promised them this would be their land, and yet, they were about to embark on a series of brutal battles.  They were clearly aware of the combative nature of  dwelling in the land.  But God had promised it to them, and He had couched His promise by reminding them He would give them rest.  And yet it struck me that their immediate future didn't hold rest at all.  There would be long days of battles and weary encampments.  But God would give them rest.  I wondered if any of the men hearing Joshua relay the words of the Lord felt as puzzled as I did.  Rest?  How?  Does God not see the huge task He has called to?  How is this rest?  How will this even lead to rest?  

I'm not sure I have been able to completely wrap my head around the dichotomy of those words and the task God requires of His before such rest is achieved.  (The ESV says  ‘The Lord your God is providing you a place of rest and will give you this land.’)  Rest.  A place of rest.  God gives these to us, but between now and then He has given us much to do.  I struggle in my mind to make sense of this .  I want rest now.  I feel tired now.  
God does not operate on my timetable or my specific demands.  
He will give rest.  But He is not interested in making me complacent or lazy.  Rest would not be as sweet or needed without the work He has laid out beforehand.  The work would not be as necessary or fulfilling without His promise of rest.  

I need rest.  I am tired.  But, God has given me work.  Work that will accomplish His purposes and that will lead me directly to the place of rest He has prepared for me.  No other place would be as restful.  And no other place would I rather be.  

Lord, give me the strength to complete the tasks You have prepared for me so that the rest You have promised comes swiftly and sweetly.