The Haggard Mind

Out of Sight...

david@newcovenant.com — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 16:50:00 GMT

My kinsmen have gone away; my friends have forgotten me. – Job 19.14

I never really realized. Didn't understand. I've been without my wife before, when traveling. My first experience of Africa was a six-week preaching tour. We did not have enough money for her to go with me. I have to say, that was the only time I've ever felt loneliness, being a stranger all alone in a strange land. I got a tiny taste of what life might be like without my wife.

It was the same for her while I was gone. She had funds enough in the bank to pay the bills and keep the household going. But it was just her with our two daughters. She was taking on my role with them, and handling all the tasks I normally would do for her. She got a bigger sample of widowed life, and she did not like it, not one bit.

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I Can't Do This

david@newcovenant.com — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 10:11:00 GMT

Have you ever woken up in the morning with the feeling of being overwhelmed even before you start? That's how I started today. At 3:30 am I was laying awake in bed, going through the list and working on the problems. And it wasn't just the list and the problems for today. The list included the dreams and hopes for tomorrow, the next day, and on into the unseeable future.

Another preacher, whose name does not come to mind right now, regularly asks, "What are doing that is impossible unless God intervenes?" Until now, that has mostly been an inspirational idea with little impact. I got the point. But it didn't really hit home. Well, this morning it finally sunk in. This morning it came crashing down on me that everything I am doing is impossible. And with that realization came a wave of despair and loss of hope.

Until recently, this ministry has been running completely from our own tithe and offerings, and it seemed like everything depended on me. Now my own offerings won't cover it any more. I have a "day job," with its own long list of requirements. After returning from Kenya last week, I now have a long list of things to do, things that must be done. Update the web site. Add new features. Raise sponsors for the widows. Oversee the latest projects. Prepare for new projects in the works.

Then there's the everyday stuff. I have a lawn to mow. (The grass has grown untouched for three weeks.) Birds are nesting in the roof of the house, because the new soffits are not yet installed. Brakes on the pickup before winter comes. Exhaust on the car. Flooring to refinish in the house. (We don't hire thngs out.) On and on and on and....

So this morning, in my haggard mind and from the depths of my soul, I cried out in prayer, for prayer is all I had, "I can't do this!" And God answered my cry. Nothing is impossible with God. Learn something from the widows!

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.... And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him. (Hebrews 11: 1, 6) It's not all on me. It never was. I just had to finally get it.

Sweet Charcoal

david@newcovenant.com — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 22:42:00 GMT

We just returned from our latest trip to Kenya. The trip home was-- to put it mildly-- long and frustrating. What would normally be about 20 hours in the air over about 24 hours, turned out to be a real "scenic route." Airline ticketing problems turned our return into a 48 hour marathon. I collapsed into bed, too tired to clean up.

The next morning, the whole trip seemed like it had been a dream. Being back in familiar surroundings, and still strung out by the trip and jet lag, none of it seemed real. I went to take a badly needed shower. When the warm water hit my hair, reality came flooding in.

You see, our ladies in Kenya cook and keep warm with open fires, burning wood or charcoal from the aromatic trees that grow around them, especially eucalyptus that is cultivated there for its rapid growth. The smoke from their fires permeates everything. You cannot get away from the aroma.

So when the warm water of the shower hit my hair, the aroma of eucalyptus smoke filled the room. Yes, it was all real. We really had been there. I had gone halfway around the world to minister to our widows, and as usual, I had returned home having had my own spirit lifted by their joy and their faith. It always seems like they minister to me more than I minister to them. As my aching body was warmed by the water, my soul was once more lifted and warmed by our ladies' prayers and faith, ignited by the aroma of their fires. A sweet aroma before the Lord.

For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. (2 Corinthians 2:15)