After my aunt’s accident, Portland Oregon became my home away from home. I traveled there so much that I went from being one of the ‘huddled-masses’ passengers to a Skymiles® Elite member. Ok, so nobody asked for my autograph. But I did get to board the plane early and had a comfortable seat with a beverage waiting for me. Did this weary traveler appreciate it? You bet I did.
Portland is an interesting place. It’s kind of funky; not dirty sock funky but cool funky. It’s weird, beautiful, weird and busy. Did I mention weird? Yep, it’s weird. That’s ok though, they like it that way. It’s a thing. One of the weird things there is navigating the streets.
GPS
I asked someone where the nearest hardware store was, and I got weird directions. These folks know the lay of the land and are comfortable with the quirks of their streets. Me? Not even a little bit. I turned to my GPS for help. It was bossy and very specific; telling me where to turn, when to turn and when to start merging to turn. We almost came to blows a time or two when I missed a turn. I expected ‘GPS woman’ to call me an idiot when, with raised hands, I yelled, “There is no street!” As it turns out, there was a street. It was masquerading as a driveway. I found it on attempt number three.
A Bad Rap
After getting off a bridge I was never supposed to be on, my nerves calmed a bit and a question came to mind. “Why does faith get such a bad rap?” It’s a good question. Regardless of what side of the religious fence we’re on, we exercise simple faith every day. We drive in lock-step obedience to a robotic voice in the GPS, trusting it will direct us to our desired destination. We climb onto dentist chairs, into taxis and board airplanes, never fearing our demise. Yet when it comes to moral and spiritual matters, especially eternal ones, we’d rather chart our own course and live and do as we please. Essentially, we presume God to have no right to tell us what to do.
God’s positioning system is well able to navigate us through life and beyond. He knows where we are, where we need to be and how to get us there safely. Many follow for a while, then veer into unwanted territory and lose their way. Circling back time and again until frustrated, angry, fearful, you throw hands to the heavens shouting, “There is no way!” But there is a way. Many are familiar with it; but it’s narrow and offers no semblance of safe passage, so most move on. By faith, some dare pass through that gate only to find it leads to the road they’d been searching for all along.
How About You
Are you on the outside of the Christian faith; watching it work for others but not sure if it will work for you? What about you Christian? Have you been caught up in the flow of life’s traffic and gone so far out of the way you’re not sure if you can make it back this time? You know God can forgive you but not sure if He will. This simple prayer might be of help to you both. Mark 9:24 “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.” Many have prayed it and found that God is willing to do just that.
God bless you and keep you,
Roxanne
Scriptures taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Pictures compliments of Pixabay Creative Commons
The day was long and dismal; the haters many. Evil enjoyed its finest hour as the Savior of the World hung dying on a cross. Darkness seized the day. Mockers shouted blasphemous cruelty at the One who came to seek and save that which was lost. While gamblers parted His garments, the Son-of-Man made provision for His mother and gave eternal hope to a dying thief.
It was the third day. Morning came and the last vestige of night rolled away with the stone. The Son of God rose with power, conquering the very death that once slew Him. Women came to anoint His body for a proper burial but He wasn’t there. The tomb lay empty, housing nothing more than a linen napkin and the empty shell of grave cloths. Life and Light conquered death and darkness; and every hope once buried with Christ rose with Him. And so we live.
Most all of us have been there before. You know, that place where your ‘should-have-been’ and your ‘wish-it-was’ doesn’t line up with your ‘how-it-is’. It’s not a fun place to be but there I was. I didn’t say anything, at least not out loud but the statement was made all the same. “Lord, I don’t know how to be anymore.” I wasn’t looking for an answer. I didn’t ask a question. Silent but sure the answer came, “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.” 
I sat alone, thinking after prayer meeting one morning. My mind wandered a bit until my eye caught the cross over the baptistery. It’s a simple cross; sanded, stained and varnished to match the rest of the wood in the church. It lends a respectful nod to the cross of long ago but lacks the rugged, brutal character of the one on which our Savior died.
You can almost smell it in the air. It should have its own season. Yep, it’s back-to-school time. While I don’t have a pony in this race back-to-school, I have perused the supply aisle at least once this summer. Why? For the love of school supplies and the memories they evoke. New pencils & pens, rulers & notebook paper. Love it, love it, love it! Protractors & compasses; not just for geometry. I could make flowers and measure angles & circumferences. Okay, so I wasn’t a math whiz. All those supplies in my well-appointed binder made this organization-loving heart of mine sing.
perfectionist tendencies. He demanded perfection. My failures are many and grievous. Good deeds and sacrifices could cover my them but could never take them away.
I spent this morning battling stains. Ok, not the whole morning but more of the morning than I would have preferred. One was an ink stain that resided on my husband’s finest dress shirt. He wore it for a couple hours and hung it up as soon as he got home, never seeing the ink. It would be a couple of weeks before he’d wear it again. When he saw the stain he thought to throw the shirt away, figuring it for a goner. I thought otherwise.
Hopefully Devoted 