Wildfire

Ever since High Park Fire started, I've been praying for it. I'm so excited to be able to say that it is now 100% contained, three weeks after it started. What an amazing accomplishment for the firefighters who tirelessly worked on it.

As I've been praying for it, I've been thinking about what lessons the fire carries with it. I reflected on James 3 one morning and it took on new meaning as I was seeing firsthand the devastation a wildfire can cause. The fact that my words can have that kind of devastating impact? Convicting.

But the thing that has really stuck with me is that rain is usually used as a metaphor for troubles. Michael W. Smith sang of the death of a loved one when he sang, "Into every life a little rain must fall, and losing one you love is like a storm." And people speak of troublesome times by saying things like, "when it rains, it pours."

And yet here I was, just praying for rain. Praying hard. On my hands and knees, begging God to send rain. And I still am - the High Park Fire may be fully contained but others still rage...and rain will help keep new fires from starting.

It finally started raining this week, during my church's VBS. Normally churches pray that it won't rain during VBS. But no one was praying that at my church this week. And when the rain interfered with our programming, the children's director thanked God for the rain and noted it was no big deal to rearrange our plans...keep the rain coming. Kids, volunteers, were dancing in the rain, standing out in it and catching it on their tongues, basking in the glory of rain. We all let out a cheer when one person got a phone alert about a flash flood warning. I'd never seen a reaction like that to rain before. Especially rain that happens during VBS.

I've always liked rain. I don't even own an umbrella because I like getting wet in the rain. But I've never realized how needed it was until now.

It kinda snuck up on me. Maybe the fire officials and such were more aware of the impending danger of our dry state. But me? I knew we hadn't gotten as much snow this winter, I guess. But my sprinkler's been keeping my lawn nice and green, my showers have been plentiful...so it just didn't feel "droughty" to me.

And then High Park Fire started. And soon others. Some by things as simple as a tire rim falling off a car and causing sparks to fly on the road. A tire rim. That's how dry it is.

And in all this I realized...if rain is a metaphor for troubles, we desperately need them. We can so easily become complacent in our faith when there's no rain falling. This was Satan's premise for testing Job. Satan believed that it was too easy for Job to worship God - everything was going well for him.

But the fact is, if we don't have troubles to test our faith, our faith becomes as dry as a forest of beetle-killed trees. And the damage that can happen when a little spark starts will destroy lives. We need the rain to keep us humble and prevent much greater destruction.

So whether you're experiencing rain in your life right now or you do in the future, remember how valuable that rain is. It might just be preventing devastation to your faith that is so great, you couldn't even imagine the damage.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance." - James 1:2-3

"I pray for rain to come,
And wash away what has made me numb.
I pray for a raging storm to drown the sin in me.
And the rain comes in the nick of time,
I swallow hard 'cuz my throat's been dry.
The rain comes beating on my skin,
'til I'm washed away, nothing left within,
When your rain comes.
Your rain comes."

- PFR

Prayer

I've got to be honest. I'm feeling a bit discouraged by prayer right now.

You see, the High Park Fire has been torching tens of thousands of acres west of Fort Collins for over two weeks now. And ever since it started, I've been praying fervently for it. Not half-hearted prayers. Bold prayers. Prayers backed in faith that God can answer them. Prayers that God would drench our state. That he'd lower the temps and the wind, raise the humidity, and pour forth rain. I've been praying Scriptures about rain. Reading about Elijah and the cloud the size of a fist that brought forth a crazy amount of rain in a land that hadn't seen it for three years, and envisioning that as I prayed it for my state.

And yet the past week has been marked by record-breaking temperatures. So far in June, the area where the fire is has received .06 inches of rain. Total. Containment on Friday dropped by 15%.

I've been praying for the firefighters for strength. Then I read that one was medavac'ed on Friday due to dehydration. I've been praying for homes to be spared. 57 more homes burned this weekend.

I've been praying that God would prevent more fires from starting. This weekend, new fires began to pop up all over the state.

There've been other fires nearby. The one near Carter Lake last summer. Hewlett Gulch just a month or so ago, just north of where High Park is. And I never really followed those too closely, just whatever I read on Facebook. But somehow this one struck my heart from the very beginning, when I first heard about it and it was just 50 acres. With this fire, I felt compelled to follow it, and to pray.

So it's hard not to feel like my prayers have not only been ineffective, but like God is just doing the opposite of what I ask. It's hard to keep faith when the first fire I pray regularly for turns into the 2nd largest fire in Colorado state history. It's like when you tune into a basketball game halfway through and learn that your team has been winning the whole game, but as soon as you start to watch they start losing. And even though you know that it couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that you were watching, it's hard not to feel like you're a curse.

Only this isn't as frivolous as some basketball game. This is people's homes, even a life. And I know that a LOT of people have been praying. It's hard not to feel like God isn't listening to any of us.

I was just about to log into Blogger to write this blog when I read this Tweet. "RAIN!!!! RT @COEmergency its beginning to rain out off CR74E and Boy Scout Road (68C)"

It's 16 days in, but it's a glimmer of hope. A glimmer that God is listening. That somehow he will work good from this. And that he is in control.

Promise

This evening as I drove home from work, I thought through all the things I need to accomplish within the next week. And I wondered if it was humanly possible. I began to feel like I was drowning. Like all the organized planning in the world won't be enough to get me through this.

And then I noticed that there in the sky in front of me was a full, beautiful rainbow. And as I sat at the red light, admiring this rainbow, I prayed, "OK...so you promised not to flood the world again...can you promise not to flood my life?"

Well, I don't know if that's the new meaning of the rainbow, but I do know one thing. That rainbow was a reminder to me that I'm not in this alone. It's not a matter if it's "humanly" possible to do everything I need to do. With God, all things are possible. And as sure as the sun is there even when it's raining, God's there even when I feel flooded—causing a beautiful rainbow to shine out of my life.

Numb

This blog is going to be pretty personal. But hey, I tell it like it is.

Growing up, I was always a pretty emotional person. Just ask my high school best friend, Scott. He'll vouch for me. So would Jane, my college roommate.

And somewhere in the last 6 years, that changed. It was a gradual process, so much so that I didn't notice it happening until people close to me started saying they wished I'd share my feelings more. It baffled me when they said that. Me? Not sharing my feelings? That's like saying I don't eat enough cookies. (Don't worry, I do.)

But when I took a closer look, I realized they were right. And I realized why. My marriage was painful for a long time. And I'm not putting all that blame on my ex, I'm just saying it was hard. And at some point I developed the ability to become numb to it. I'd never had the ability to numb my emotions before, but I guess when you hurt enough it turns into a callous. So it wasn't that I wasn't sharing my feelings...it was that I wasn't feeling them very often in the first place.

But you know how in the movie Click, when he starts fast forwarding through the negative things like fights with his wife and his kids annoying him, he finds that the remote is automatically skipping times with his wife and kids? Even the good times? That's kind of what happened. When I learned to become numb in the area of my marriage, I didn't just become numb to the pain. I became numb to the relationship. I think that's one reason the divorce process was so much easier for me than it is for most people. Someone in the video at my Divorce Care class said, "You only grieve for the things you care about." And that summed it up for me. I wasn't grieving because I didn't care anymore.

That's not to say I'd given up or stopped loving my husband during the marriage. I was doing what I could to fight for us. It's just that I was doing it numbly. Like drinking a glass of water when your mouth is still numb from the dentist. You can get the water into your stomach, but you haven't enjoyed the refreshment of the cool water.

Anyway, I came to this realization several months ago, it's not new to me now. What is new is that I started to see this habit of numbness creeping up again when something was starting to feel painful. Only it wasn't painful enough yet to become calloused, so I couldn't really numb it. But I found myself subconsciously transferring my emotion of pain and disappointment to anger. Because anger didn't feel quite as bad. So if I could make myself feel that instead, that would be an improvement.

Fortunately, I recognized this in myself within a couple of days. And I'm giving it to God and asking him to help me be emotionally healthy. Not oversensitive, but not numb, either. Because I don't want to become so emotionally numb that I can't feel joy anymore.

Individualized Faith

I've blogged before about how I think Jeremiah 29:11 is overused and more importantly, mis-used. And one thing I didn't really get into in that blog that is a common misuse of a lot of verses is the way we individualize things.

Over and over the church is addressed as a body. It begins in the Old Testament with the covenant with the nation of Israel. It continues with Jesus' teachings to the masses. And Paul's letters are mostly written to entire church bodies, rather than individuals. If the English language had a differentiation between the singular and plural "you," we'd probably recognize this more easily.

But there's only one form of "you," so we easily take verses like Jeremiah 29:11 personally, as if each of us is the only one that matters. A verse that was meant to bring ultimate hope to a nation is used to say God is going to give us as individuals hope and a future. But what we don't consider is that for most of the people who heard that message from Jeremiah, there was no personal hope, no personal future other than being in exile. 70 more years, they had in store. Which meant most of them died before this "hope and a future" ever came to light. But that was OK. Because it wasn't about some individual 40 year-old guy who'd die a captive. It was about God's redemptive plan for his people.

The patriarchs got it. Hebrews 11 lists men and women of faith and says in verse 13: "All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth."

They obeyed God because they knew it wasn't about them. God's promises to them weren't about what they as individuals would get. It was about God's grand plan for the world. Later in Hebrews 11:39-40, it says, "These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.  God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect."

It's not about you. It's not about me. It's not even about the church body that exists today. It's about everyone who calls God their Father, those who have passed on and those who will succeed us.

It's not that faith isn't personal. It is. I'm so thankful that I can come before God as an individual, with all of my weaknesses and baggage that I don't want anyone else to see.

It's just that there's so much more to it than that. Limiting our view of God's plan to just our own lives is like watching one minute of the Star Wars movies and thinking you've seen the whole thing. (Confession: I did fall asleep numerous times so I can't say I've seen the whole thing. But, it being an iconic and well-loved series, I thought it was an apt metaphor.)

Now I don't mean to come across as condescending. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I am thinking only of myself at least 90% of the time. When I read the Bible, or just in general, it's all about me. But I think that's a problem.

I've also been guilty of complaining about the church. (Though I've also said nice things about the body of Christ.) And with the viral video "Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus," fuel has only been added the fire of this anti-church yet pro-Jesus subculture. Believe me, I've been there. But recently some lyrics in the song "The Church" by Derek Webb really struck me.

'Cause I haven't come for only you

But for my people to pursue

And you cannot care for me

With no regard for her

If you love me you must love the church

Jesus helped individuals. He took care of individual needs like restoring sight to the blind or making the lame walk. And he still does that. But his message of love wasn't just for one person. It's often said that, "If you were the only sinner in the world, Jesus still would've died for you." And maybe that's true. Maybe he would've. But the fact is, I'm not the only sinner in the world. Jesus died for a lot of people. Everyone, as it turns out.

And if I'm really capturing the beat of my heart, I'm recognizing that faith isn't about ME. It's about his great love for the whole world. And if I get to be a part of that plan, that's amazing! Because what we are capable of doing for God is infinitely greater than what you+you+you+me are capable of doing for God on our own.

Waiting

Lately I've noticed that I'm not a very patient person. It's not that patience is a recent struggle, just a recent conviction. Waiting has never been my forte.

So this morning I decided to find a verse in the Psalms about waiting on the Lord and reflect on it. And I found this in Psalm 37:34: "Wait for the Lord, and keep his way."

Now, as I started reflecting I was just thinking about wanting to learn to be patient for things I want to happen in my life. I wanted to think about waiting on God's timing for those things.

But God showed me something as I thought about that verse. He showed me that waiting for him doesn't mean setting my eyes on what I want and waiting for him to give it to me. It means just looking to him and seeing what he will do in my life. And keeping his way as I wait. Without my hidden agenda. Otherwise I'm not really waiting for him; I'm waiting for whatever is on my list.

And I realized something else, too. There have been times in my life when I've been waiting on God's timing for my agenda and what he ends up giving me isn't my agenda at all. It's something much better than what I thought of. If God isn't planning what I hope for, it's because he's planning something that's ultimately so much better.

Do I have it all figured out? Not remotely. Somehow I still have to figure out to let go of the agenda I cling so tightly to, to truly give it to God and wait for him, not for him to give me what I want.

God In A Box

“As for an idol, a craftsman casts it, and a goldsmith overlays it with gold and fashions silver chains for it. A man too poor to present such an offering looks for wood that will not rot. He looks for a skilled craftsman to set up an idol that will not topple.” – Isaiah 40:19-20

These verses come right after several verses that talk about God’s amazing power, his unfathomable wisdom, and how small everything—even whole nations—are to him.

And then in stark contrast, we see what an idol has to offer: a sense of us being in control. Not only do human hands have to fashion the idol, but it’s up to us to determine the idols survival. If we don’t select the right wood or balance the idol, it will rot or topple.

You don’t see a lot of literal idols today, at least not in America. I don’t know anyone who’s ever commissioned a statue to worship. But I do think we crave this same sense of control.

In the verses preceding these, we’re made to feel small. Almost insignificant. With an idol, we wouldn’t feel small at all. We’re in control. Sometimes we don’t want a god beyond our control and understanding. Even if we don’t cast a golden idol today, I think we sometimes limit our declarations of who God is and what he can do, putting him a box so we don’t feel as small and powerless.

But God is infinitely more powerful than us. Even when verses 15 and 17 talk about “all the nations,” it describes them as “worthless” and “less than nothing” in comparison to God. Think about all the power represented by the leaders of all the nations. All of them. And it’s less than nothing in God’s eyes. That’s how big he is. That’s how powerful he is.

And he won’t fit in the cast I’ve made in my mind to contain him so I can feel a sense of control.

Control

My latest passage of Scripture to reflect on is Isaiah 40:10 and on. Verses 13 and 14 have really stuck out to me.

"Who has understood the mind of the Lord,

Or instructed him as counselor?

Who did the Lord consult to enlighten him,

and who taught him the right way?"

In the movie Bruce Almighty, Bruce Nolan (Jim Carrey) isn't happy with the way his life is going. And he blames God for having a terrible plan. So God lets him take control, giving him all of his powers - and all the prayers to answer. Bruce embraces this power at first, using it selfishly. But ultimately the prayers pile up, and when none of his filing systems are effective at making a dent in the list, he just answers "yes to all." Chaos ensues.

Bruce Almighty is one of my favorite movies of all time because it demonstrates that God's power is not enough. If God was just all-powerful, but not all-knowing, the world would be just as chaotic as Bruce makes it.

And yet, I continue to forget that God doesn't need me to advise him on the best way to handle a situation. It's like going up to Michael Jordan and saying, "Hey, let me give you a tip on that lay-up shot." It's ridiculous! Who am I to instruct Michael Jordan on how to play basketball? And it's even more ridiculous to think that God needs my input on how to run the world.

He still loves to hear the desires of our hearts in our prayers. But he doesn't need us trying to take control. I definitely like to feel like I'm in control. 

When I was a kid, I remember trying out one of those amusement park attractions where you drive an old-timey car around a track. And it doesn't really matter how you steer, the car moves along the track. But I didn't realize that, and at age 8 believed I was an excellent driver, that my steering skills were keeping us from driving into the trees and fences. That's the kind of illusion of control we have when we take the steering wheel of our lives. God doesn't need us to drive...he's got it covered much better than we ever could.

Running

I started running pretty much daily back in August. My motivation was to get some exercise and stay in shape. But what I've discovered is that running is a very spiritual act for me.

It's hard to explain, really. It's just that I can sense God filling me with strength when I run. Not just strengthening my leg muscles and lung capacity, but strengthening me. There's this sense that I can do all things because he gives me strength (Philippians 4:13) that's manifested in a run. Even when I run at work while watching TV...there's still this spiritual element to it. But it's definitely stronger when I'm out on the open road, surrounded by God's creation.

For a while early on, I tried praying while I run. That didn't really work, because I found my thoughts wandering. But I discovered that even though I don't present requests while I run, it's really a prayerful time. For whatever reason, the to-do list part of my brain shuts down (and that doesn't happen a lot), and I'm just present. And it's when I'm present that I sense God's presence the most.

A week ago I got an iPod so I can listen to music while I run. This has deepened the spiritual aspect even further, the music providing a worshipful background (with the occasional Chipmunks thrown in) as I'm being strengthened by God's presence.

And today, as I rounded a corner with Peanut, I saw a fox standing on the crest of a hill. I slowed to a walk quickly, not wanting him to see Peanut as prey and chase us. And as I slowly walked past the hill, the fox and I just made eye contact, each wondering if we could trust the other. Eventually, he must've decided I wasn't trustworthy and took off. But for those few moments, I was just seeing God through this interaction with a wild creature he'd set in my path.

When people have asked me if I'm a runner, I've usually said no. I don't have much stamina and take regular walking breaks. It doesn't come naturally to me. But boy, have I come to love my morning runs in God's strength and presence.

Precisely

Accuracy has always been very important to me. I have a hard time biting my tongue instead of correcting people when they tell a story of an experience I shared and have incorrect facts. Maybe it's because my parents named me "Alison" and that means truthful. Whatever the reason, I don't like facts to be off by even a hair.

This came up at work yesterday at a birthday party for all the Group staffers born in April. It's just another wonderful thing Group does - the leaders of the company throw a party to enjoy root beer floats (or in my case, just ice cream, as I don't drink soda) and give fun prizes to the birthday staff. Before we spun the wheel to determine our prize, we had to share a favorite birthday memory.

I shared about my 17th birthday, when I was flying home after visiting Wheaton and staying with my sister. My sister had waited at the gate with me (since this was before 9/11) and after I boarded, told the stewardess it was my birthday. The pilot announced it mid-air, right around my exact birth time. So that was very fun.

But the part of the story that made Joani (one of the company owners) laugh was when I shared that since I had no ID (which was fine if you're under 18), the ticket lady asked how old I was. And I stumbled between 16 and 17 because, though it was my birthday, I hadn't passed my birth TIME. So to say I was 17 would be a lie. BUT, I would be 17 by the time the plane landed, as I was turning my new age in the air. At this, Joani chuckled and noted that I am a very precise person. (She wasn't laughing AT me, of course, just laughing because it so epitomized me.)

It was really the first time in the 11 years that have passed since that birthday that I realized the airlines didn't care what time I was born. They wouldn't have thought I was lying if I said 17. And really, they just needed to know I was under 18. I don't know why this never occurred to me, but it made me realize just how much I really do value accuracy, even when it really doesn't matter to anyone else.

I think this is a good trait for an editor. Especially an editor of Bible teaching materials. Accuracy is very important when handling and teaching God's Word to kids. I never want to be accused of twisting God's words. So I'm glad Joani helped make me more aware of how key a trait this is in me.

And if I ever correct you when you're telling a story that involves me...well...now you know why.