Though Now I See Dimly

Today on my walk, I was asking the Holy Spirit to show me my missed opportunities to bring the Kingdom to Earth. Immediately, I was given a mind picture of two men that I saw yesterday at the YMCA. One was a very friendly guy at the front desk who checks me in each morning, and the other is a man that often sits with a group of other men who always strike up a conversation with me as I’m leaving. I don’t know either of their names, but I see them several times each week.

The front desk dude seems to be a happy guy, and I never “checked in” to see if there was something Papa wanted him to know. I wondered why it didn’t occur to me to ask.

The other man, sitting outside the machine room said hello, and when I responded with, “how are you?” He replied, “About the same.”

Now, I knew that meant something, but I didn’t take the time to ask what it was about. Another missed opportunity, and it flew right over my head.

As I was asking the Holy Spirit why I seem to be so distracted that I don’t notice the nudges until too late, I was told to look up.

The sky was mostly cloudy, but there was a tiny patch of blue peeking through.

This is what I heard, “You have tiny patches of seeing clearly, and as you step into them more will open.” As these words were spoken, some of the cloud cover moved away, making the blue spot a bit larger.

It made me feel better, but I’m still rather mad at myself for not noticing. Being intentional requires not allowing distractions and busyness to get in the way.

I asked why the nudge is so obscure. Again, my eyes were drawn to a tiny patch of blue amidst the huge cloud cover. I guess I just need to trust that one day, I will see more clearly.

 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known (I Corinthians 13:12).

Polka-Dot or Solid? It's All the Same!

I’m not one for staying up with the lifestyles of celebrities, and I didn’t even know about the royal wedding until I happened on the live feed on Facebook early that morning. As I watched the beautiful event unfold, I was rather surprised to learn that Meghan Markle was biracial. As I pondered how far we have come in my lifetime, I remarked to my six-year old granddaughter, Parker, about what an amazing event this was indeed.

Parker looked at me rather strangely. She has lived her whole entire life within a rather diverse culture, so it didn’t really register with her as to how unusual this was.

I began to explain about the discrimination that took place in my growing up years. I told her about the ridiculous fears that people had about using the same drinking fountains or swimming pools as those with other skin colors. Parker still didn’t even begin to comprehend what I was telling her.

I told her that for some reason people think that white skin is better than brown.  I showed Parker the multiple moles on my arms.  I explained that the pigment that makes my moles is exactly the same thing that makes brown skin brown.

I said, “I’m polka-dotted (I have lots of moles), and they are solid. It really isn’t all that different is it?”

Parker seemed to like that explanation, and the conversation quickly ended.

I am still pondering the basis of discrimination.

I endured some of that myself, as I was raised in a Jewish home. My maiden name is Levinson, and my heritage was quite obvious to all I met because of my name. I was called names (Kike, dirty-Jew, money-hungry, etc.). My family was not allowed to join our local Country Club or area Beach Club until I had already graduated from High School.  My mother was not able to attend the college of her choice because they had already reached their Jewish quota.  My father was the first American officer to step foot on the grounds at the liberation of Dachau.

I do have an inkling of what discrimination feels like.  Yet, I truly do not understand.

I believe with all my heart that we can trace our roots to Noah and his family. If we all came from there, then how did we end up with such division?

Perhaps if others would look at their own polka-dots (c’mon, you have at least one, right?) and understand the science behind it, we would understand the notion that everything that is in me is in everyone else to some degree.

I rejoice in my polka dots, and I am sorry that the solids have faced such huge, undue injustice. Yet, we are called to not look back but to press forward to the mark of the high calling in Christ Jesus.

There is a song on Christian radio right now by Mandisa called, “We All Bleed the Same.”  How do we so easily forget?

I Still Have My Joy

I was scheduled to provide twelve twenty-minute presentations to a neighboring district’s fourth and fifth graders. I knew that I would not be monetarily compensated for my day, but I was ready to pour into those students, and grateful to be asked to be a part of this leadership event at their school.

I arrived early enough to make sure I had plenty of time to get situated. I walked around to the passenger side of my car and realized that I had a few things that needed to go into my trunk. Leaving my purse and presentation materials there with the door still open, I put my laptop and moneybox (in case anyone wanted to buy any books), into the trunk. Just as I shut the trunk door, a wind came and slammed the door shut, locking everything inside.

My cell phone.

My presentation on my thumb drive.

My AAA membership card.

Not even for a second did I worry, though.

In our Sunday School class the day before, we have started a new book study on Philippians called, Be Joyful, by Warren Wiersbe. We had just talked about the things that rob us of our joy, and evidently the conversation stuck, because the entire time, I was determined to not let anything keep me from my joy.

Not even the fact that the AAA guy wasn’t going to come for maybe two hours.

The principal called an officer friend to come and help. He got there quickly, but when he sized up the situation, he warned me that he would likely scratch my leased 2018 Camry. The AAA lady told me on the phone that my membership provides up to $50.00 to pay for any damages incurred. While the officer came before we started, I opted to wait for AAA and have to figure out how to be in two places at once.

He arrived a minute before my first presentation ended (thankfully, I had previously emailed my powerpoint to the person in charge, so she sent it to the computer in the classroom where I was presenting). It only took him a few minutes and there were no scratches at all.

I completed my morning six groups, and then it hit me.

Was this a test? Was it a purposeful attack from the enemy?

I even told the other presenters (none of whom I had ever met before) that I wasn’t going to allow anything to steal my joy. 

When that didn’t work, I started getting a horrible sore throat by the second session in the afternoon.

Knowing now I am dealing with a spiritual attack, I have to ask what is so important about what I’m doing that the enemy wants to thwart me.

Thanking Jesus for allowing me to live out my purpose.

Even when the wind slams my car door, locking (momentarily, of course) my life inside, joy is not lost.

Even when my throat is raw, I will still speak words of healing and truth.

I will still find my joy.