Reflecting by Lorilee Guenter

Promises Kept 

 "For I have not given you a spirit of fear (timidity), but a spirit of power, of love, and of self-control." (self-discipline) 2 Timothy 1:7

In January I chose this verse as a focus verse for the year along with the words courage and boldness. At the time no one predicted what was to come during 2020. When I started to reflect on this verse, I thought about changing my habits to care for this gift of life God has given me. I thought about being willing to grasp hold of the opportunities God showed even in uncomfortable situations. I thought about using what I have to build up those around me, to engage with neighbours more, and to continue to look for God's hand in my life and our community. All these happened and so much more.

This year this verse came to mind in unexpected ways and at unexpected times. Even when I prepared to write this post, God reminded me through a podcast that His spirit of power and love and self-control are working through us to accomplish His work. Not only that but He wants to work with us boldly and powerfully.

I clung to Him during the spring shut down. The absence of physical gathering with community highlighted the value of these communities. But our God made us with creativity and we were able to find new ways to gather, new ways to reflect His love. For me it came at great cost to my mental health but not with fear or panic. God gave me peace in place of panic. Peace I could then share with others.

As we were forced to give up distractions, I was surprised by new things, new opportunities. I had the courage to say yes to telling Bible stories for our Sunday School via video using my art and a basic script. I have been encouraged to share my art in other ways I had never considered. My first response to these opportunities was to be hesitant. When I was asked the same question by three people about an art related possibility, I knew I need to trust God and step into this role with boldness.

I do not know what God will do with any of these things. Some of the things God has shown me this year have been huge, some small. Through it all, at various times and in various ways, I have been reminded that God is at work. He will use what I give Him in unexpected ways. Through His power and love even the small steps of courage through faith will reflect His glory.

As we step towards a second shut down, I continue to trust god will continue to work with me and through me. Where that leads I have no idea, but He does. His power will replace panic with peace, fear with faith.

My Inbox - Janis Cox

My Inbox

I am learning more and more to trust in God. I have written many posts this year on the "me" factor and how it inhibits my growth with God. Relying on "me" can be frustrating and exhausting.

Relying on God is freeing.

If I look at my Inbox, I see too much. I panic and say "I can't do all that!"

But if I look to God, He says, "I am here. Look to me and not to your Inbox."

Then I can focus on Him. He helps me calmly DO one task at a time. And they all get done - miraculously.

Oswald Chambers says:

"It is much easier to Do something than to trust God. We mistake panic for inspiration. That is why there are so few fellow workers WITH God and so many workers FOR Him" (June 1). (emphasis mine)

Oswald asks:

"Am I quite sure that God will do what I cannot do?" (June 1).

Here is what Scripture says:

"I can do ALL things in Christ who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13 NKJV).

This all ties in with a Bible study I am leading with a group of women. Grace Fox has written a study called, Moving From Fear to Freedom: A Woman to Woman Conversation. We are learning strategies to push past our fears and blocks. One strategy stressed is:

FOCUS ON GOD

As I spend more time with God, praying and studying His Word, He is teaching me that:

"Yes, I am quite sure that God will do what I cannot do."

Oswald Chambers says:

"The degree of panic is the degree of lack of personal spiritual experience" (June 1).

Tough statements. I will panic... and when I do, I remind myself, "STOP! Look to God."

Panic cannot live in the same place as God. "Go to the right place. Choose God."

Prayer:
May all of us, Lord, look to You - You alone. You can do ALL things because Christ can give us the strength. Help me to continue marching towards complete and utter trust in You. In Jesus' name. AMEN.

June Fire - Elsie Montgomery

Even this far north, the sky is normally dark at 2:30 in the morning. A bit foggy on my way to the washroom, I do notice light at the bedroom window, brighter than normal from the streetlight across the way. Much brighter. On my way back, I look.

Northeast, on a street higher than our home, flames leap skyward, higher than any house. My heart lurches. I call out and wake my husband. I stare at it and move so he can stare. I’m dazed and begin pacing, looking for the phone, dialing 911, finding out someone already called, pacing, looking, finding the binoculars, trying to know which house? Which family? I can’t watch. I can’t not watch.

My husband prays aloud. I join him. I can’t think. Heaviness in the chest, knots in my innards. Someone’s home, maybe their life, out of control. We can see a roof, some joists. Then they are gone. Not a sound. No fire trucks. The flames are a giant torch lighting the sky.

Finally, sirens. During the next three decades of minutes they come, one, then twos. In moments, three fountains arc into the flames. But no change, at least none for another decade.

Finally, steam. A good thing, yet the flames still shoot high.

Then a new blaze to the right. Another house? No, please, no.

More steam. The licking leaping slows, then disappears, at least beneath silhouette of black roof lines that block our full view. Yet it is close enough to fuel in me that familiar panic that fire feeds.

Panic has an acid taste. It smells like cold ashes, dead yet alive, and feels coarse and sandpaper rough in my pacing. The sound is a faint wailing from the back of my heart, plowing through, pulled by wild animals, pushed by screeching demons. It rises, up from my inner parts, screams through my esophagus, but is unable to pass through the narrowing tunnel of my throat. There it rolls into a ball and lumps, blocking my air ways, strangling rational thought, beating on me as if this fire is somehow my fault, and if I cannot be convinced, the fear and the fire, in its rage, determines to destroy something of me anyway.

But it is far enough away; our house is safe. We pray again. I lay down. Faith and sleep eventually decided for me that this fire was not my doing nor will be my undoing. The flames are conquered. The firemen are there. God is everywhere. Panic can only hiss and steam.

Morning brings sunshine, a few showers. We walked 5 minutes went to see the shell, actually just the basement walls are left and some rubble. The heat seared the face off the house next door. The home across the back had vinyl siding, as in past tense.

The house above the shell had been enormous, more like a hotel, three stories on a hill, under construction for the past five years, an annoyance to those who observed it every day. As we watched the firemen still there, and the smouldering lumps, another neighbor laughed and showed us pictures he took in the night.

“Best thing that could have happened. I think we will throw a block party.”

Eyebrows raised, we went home, glad no one was home and lost in that shell, and no one was home next door.

I walked farther. The house with the rippled vinyl had a car in the driveway. I wonder now, if not before, do they believe in answered prayer?