The Blessing of Frailty - Kimberly Dawn Rempel

In the empty church foyer on a weekday, a young woman helps a young man hobble to the reception desk.

His young frame is frail and moves slowly and awkwardly with the aid of a cane and the young woman’s supportive arm. She holds him with every step.

Slowly. Slowly, make their way across the lobby.

I can’t stop staring at the beauty of it.

It’s a beauty reveals itself in her patience. She does not hurry him, or even look around the room to gauge what others might think. She walks slowly and steadily beside him, adjusting her speed to his, adjusting herself to suit his needs. She gives.

The beauty is also in him. He moves steadily forward, completely dependent on the cane and his friend. He accepts this assistance, and moves forward. His frailty and need does not keep him at home, angry and alone. He has bravely humbled himself and accepted his limits. He does not pull away or try to resist or run ahead. He humbly accepts help.  

Both of them, I realized, had to humble themselves, each giving up their desires for something different, each accepting what is. This beauty belongs to God – their humility and acceptance and their journey together is a beautiful example of love, and I thank the Lord for the privilege of witnessing it that morning.

As they moved on and I was left with my own thoughts, I saw me and God in that arrangement. He patiently helps me in my frailty, not looking around the room or racing ahead. He stays with me, helping me in my weakness. When I refuse the help, or try to run ahead on my own, I get hurt and fall down. When I humble myself though, and accept my frailty, humbly resting on His strength, we move ahead together slowly, slowly, and steadily.

Thank you God, for loving us tenderly and faithfully.

And thank you, even for the frailty that reveals my need of you, and that teaches me to walk in your ways. Thank you for my need that draws me deeper into relationship with and dependence on you.

Kimberly Dawn Rempel helps authors market their books and expand their reach online through 1:1 coaching, editing, and book marketing.  Click here to Download her free guide, 14 Ways to Leverage Your Book  or join her Facebook Group, Marketing-Savvy Authorpreneurs HERE.

Ode to a Writer's Joy by Sharon Espeseth

Read God's Word in a Quiet Place
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"Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest," Jesus tells his disciples. Travelling two by two, the men had travelled through surrounding villages preaching repentance, driving out demons, anointing and healing the sick.

The disciples, anxious to tell Jesus their many experiences, needed undisturbed time with their Master. The people, seeing Jesus, ran to the other side of the lake and were there when the boat arrived.

When Jesus saw this huge crowd, he had compassion on them, "because they were like sheep without a shepherd." Instead of turning them away, Jesus began teaching them.

Please. . . .

As writers, we also seek quiet, but often we can't get away from the phone, online messages, meetings, and the needs of other people. Sometimes, we feel more harried than joyful, and, in all honesty, this is what I am feeling as I begin this blog. Rushed. Jittery. Frustrated.

Dear Lord, I pray that you will fill me with your love, joy and peace. Guide me and give me wisdom in setting priorities. May your love and grace abide in my heart as I turn my planning over to you. Instead of attempting to meet everyone's needs, help me show compassion for them, but remind me to impress on them that only you can meet all their needs.

First I pray. Then, applying "bum glue" to my chair, I sit down in my office. As words appear on my screen, I become, not joyful, but calm. I enjoy this time to write.

First, why do I write? Upon arising this morning, my husband asked me this very question.

Because I enjoy writing. I write because it helps me figure things out. (Like right now.)

Because this is a way I can share my faith and what I am learning about life.

Because I have stories and ideas inside me.

To give glory to God.

Because God has blessed some/all? of my writing to certain individuals. Readers responses encourage my doubting spirit.

What hinders my writing?

Distractions, committing to more than I can handle, procrastinating, over-helping and trying to fix people, not discussing specific situations with the Master Planner.

Should I quit writing? 

Funny you should ask, because I just got some answers to that question. Can you recall one long road trip, someone said, let's say from Edmonton to Vancouver? Did you expect to make it the whole way without hitting any red lights?

If you've thought of quitting lately, you must read "Go Ahead and Quit!" by Janice L. Dick. (See janicedick.wordpress.com)

Furthermore, "The person born with a talent they are meant to use will find their greatest happiness (joy) in using it. (Goethe)

Am I a good enough writer? (Was Paul a good enough disciple?)

To hear Paul's thoughts on discouragement, read 2 Corinthians 12:6-10. To hear his voice, read the passage in The Message. "If I had a mind to brag. . . but I'll spare you. . . , says Paul. "So I wouldn't get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations."

Three times Paul begged God to remove his handicap, but God told him

"My grace is enough; it's all you need.My strength comes into its own in your weakness."

Grasping this message, Paul says, "I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift." God's strength moved in on his weakness. "Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer," Paul says, and he let Christ take over! Paul concludes,  "The weaker I get, the stronger I become."

I have paraphrased Eugene H. Petersons's translation of the story, but I appreciate the entire passage.

How does my writing affect me?

Starting this blog, I admit I was none too joyful. Distractions overwhelmed me, but I prayed. A friend prayed that I wouldn't let Anyone steal my joy. Like Paul, I said, "There (is) no danger of walking around high and mighty!" Speaking to Jesus, I tapped into his strength and understanding. Humbled, I acknowledge my need of guidance from the Holy Spirit.

Dear Jesus, remind me regularly to tap into your strength and understanding in order to overcome my weakness. Thank you for cheering me up, for helping me get this blog written , and for my being able to end this Ode to a Writer's Joy on a higher note. Praise God. Amen. 

Ending on a Higher Note!
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Jesus Understands - Ruth L. Snyder

For many years I have been conscious of people who are hurting at Christmas. This awareness was built in to me at a young age by parents who served as missionaries. Now that I have a family of my own, my husband and I often invite people over for Christmas dinner, donate money to the less fortunate, and spend time with the elderly.

In previous years, I heard about people who were grieving at Christmas. I tried to imagine what it would be like to celebrate Christmas knowing I would never see that special someone again. This Christmas I understand much better than I ever have before; this summer we said goodbye to my father-in-law who lost his battle with liver cancer. I am grateful for the many wonderful memories and godly influence of my father-in-law. I am still enjoying Christmas this year, but I'm focusing on different things.

Philippians 2:5-8 reminds us that although Jesus is God, he took on the form of man and became like us. Imagine! The King of the Universe humbled himself to be born in a dirty, stinky stable as a helpless baby. Hebrews 4:14,15 expresses similar thoughts. As the God-man Jesus was intimately acquainted with our weaknesses and temptations, our trials and hardships - yet without sin. He put on the clothes of humanity to demonstrate His love for us. Today Jesus is our High Priest, representing our needs to God.

This world causes us to groan and weep, but Jesus understands. And He not only understands, but He also walks with us, interceding for us before God the Father. This Christmas I am grieving, but not without hope. My father-in-law is celebrating his first Christmas in Heaven. Some day we will celebrate together again, and together we will worship Jesus. Until then, I will hold onto Jesus and rest in the fact He understands.

Ruth L. Snyder

Check out Ruth's blog on education matters at www.trusteesnyder.blogspot.com. Follow Ruth on Twitter @wwjdr

Empowered -- Janet Sketchley

“I can’t do this without You, LORD.”

Many of us pray this way regularly, about hard tasks or scary appointments, or just about hauling our exhausted selves out of bed to face another day.

It’s a fine prayer, and it’s scriptural. Jesus warned us, “Apart from Me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5, NIV)

The key is where we put the emphasis. If we focus on the difficulty “I can’t do this” it weighs us down. If we focus on Jesus, our hope and strength “I can’t do this without You” it reminds us where our confidence lies.

Acknowledging our weakness keeps us from getting into messes. Focusing there could keep us from doing anything at all. Let our weaknesses remind us that Jesus offers His strength. Our confidence is in Him, and He is enough.

© Janet Sketchley. (Reprinted from the archives of God with Us: Finding Joy, April 2008)
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For devotionals, reviews and conversation, stop by Janet Sketchley's blog, God with Us: Finding Joy.

Lesson from A Hornbill - M. Laycock

The tropical sun beamed down as I peered outside. Banana palms swayed in a grove by the river and the incessant sound of insects filled my ears. A pile of wet clothes lay in a basket at my feet. I looked at the long line stretched to the far end of the yard, then peeked up. No sign of clouds yet, but I knew if I didn’t hang the clothes to dry soon, I would likely have to run out to gather them as the first spits of rain fell. The rains came every day to that part of Papua New Guinea.

So did my neighbour’s pet. I scanned the trees around the house. No sign of him. Maybe he wouldn’t show up today. I hefted the basket and stepped into the yard. I was about half way along the line when the raucous sound tore through the still air. A rush of wing made me duck and my heart raced. I groaned as the huge Hornbill landed a few feet away, tilting his oversized head to peer at me, his blinking eye seeming to say, “Gotcha again!”

Every time I ventured out to hang up the laundry, that bird descended and gave me a fright. Our neighbours had brought the Hornbill home when they discovered it had been injured. Once he was well, the odd creature seemed to delight in being around people. I know it loved to watch me hang up my laundry. Sometimes I would forget it was there until it made a swoop over my head. Then the adrenaline rush would catch me again. A friend has described the sound a Hornbill makes in flight as a helicopter with asthma. It’s an apt description. Apparently the bird is missing a few pinions in its huge wings, so when it flies, the noise is loud and constant.

As I watched that strange and rather ugly bird that day, I realized its lack wasn’t a mistake. It was God’s design. Perhaps the noise the bird’s wings make has some purpose necessary to its survival. Or perhaps the Hornbill is one of God’s object lessons. Every time he takes flight, he announces his lack. There are many around us who do the same. We look at them as slightly “less than,” whether maimed physically, mentally or socially. We pity their weakness, or worse, we condemn them for it.

God sees weakness in a different light. In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul describes his “thorn in the flesh,” and explains – “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”” Paul was left to struggle with his “thorn,” and as he struggled he grew in an understanding of God’s grace.

Not all of us are like that Hornbill, whose weakness is obvious. Some of us are able to hide ours very well. But whether our struggles are obvious or not, God is waiting to supply what we need to deal with them, all to His glory. His grace is sufficient.

When a Little is Enough - Lynda Schultz

Huge obstacles.

Impossible odds.

Overwhelming challenges.

Gideon was just a poor, frightened farmer, hiding his crops from the Midianites who had beaten his people into submission. Just to survive was challenge enough. Then God comes along, out of the blue, and calls him to run these bloodsuckers off the face of the planet. "The Lord turned to him and said, 'Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you … I will be with you, and you will strike down the Midianites as if they were but one man'" (Judges 6:14, 16).

Understandably, Gideon is hesitant about volunteering, or being volunteered.

Can't do it, too weak, mutters Gideon under his breath. Unfortunately the man didn't have the benefit of Paul's writings in 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 on the sufficiency of God's grace, the Almighty's power shown through human weakness, rejoicing in those weaknesses knowing that when a man is at his weakest, it is then that the Lord can really show His strength. No one felt less like celebrating his lack of possibilities than did Gideon.

If he'd had a high school yearbook, Gideon might have been listed as the "least-likely-to-succeed." Perhaps he would have penned in the words himself. It wasn't that he didn't know the stories of God's mighty acts passed down from generation to generation (Judges 6:13). He just hadn't experienced any of them himself, and without that personal touch, he wondered if God was really with Israel at all, or if all the stories were just fables embellished to entertain the kids at bedtime.

Gideon's problem was faith, believing in what he had never seen. It's a problem that dogs the steps of all of us.

God didn't make it easy for Gideon. He told the young farmer to go "in the strength" he had, even though Gideon feels his weakness to the core of his soul. God asked him to believe where he had no evidence. He sends a fearful farmer to become a courageous captain of what would turn out to be the essence of minimalist in the annals of the history of armies. He equips Gideon with lamps, pitchers and a promise: "I will be with you." I wonder if Gideon might have felt a twinge of concern as he looked out on the field of Midianites tents that night. I wonder if it crossed his mind to question what on earth a simple farmer was doing in this place, at this moment, with this humanly impossible mission to accomplish.

He went in the strength he had, as little as it was, and Gideon won the day.

Sometimes God doesn't bless us with great strength, or even great faith. He simply takes the little we have to offer Him and does great things with it. In the end it isn't the little that counts; it's the promise of a very big God that makes the difference.