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My Life in Ink – JoAnne Hancock

My Life in Ink – JoAnne Hancock

Category Archives: Ministry Musings

Knowing Better…Or Not

23 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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Christmas, Do-over, Easter, grace, Kim Kardashian

I’m quite sure I have never quoted Kim Kardashian before now but, her statement, “If I had known better, I would have done better,” has resonated with me so often in recent days. I’m in a season of reflecting on and learning from some of my failures and, at times, find myself longing for a do-over. I have to remind myself often that I couldn’t know what I didn’t know.

So, what about the times when I DID know better and went right ahead and did it anyway? Enter the greatest gift, astounding grace. “Our Father sent the Babe of Bethlehem, who knew no sin, to BE sin on OUR behalf so that WE MIGHT BECOME the righteousness of God.” II Corinthians 5:21

It’s a full circle. The babe-of-Bethlehem-Jesus really is the cross-of-calvary-Jesus. The same guy. (Skit Guys) Or, to quote my favorite theologian, “Christmas and Easter are but the morning and evening of the very same day.” (Paul Merki aka Dad)

christmas

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The “One”

25 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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baptism, clean, Daytona Beach, disciple, discipleship, drowning, Faith Assembly of God, prayer, youth retreat

My sister-in-law, Brooksie, invited me to tag along with her to a weekend conference. Where? Daytona Beach. How could I say no to that? Brooksie has lots of wonderful qualities, two of which are “no guilt” and “no expectations,” so I knew this would be a true Sabbath weekend. And that is what it has been.

This morning, as I walked the beach, the lifeguard emergency vehicles came racing with their sirens blaring. Up ahead, I could see a crowd gathered. Since this is off-season, there are no crowds, so I knew something was up. As I got closer, I could hear a lot of cheering. Given the television news of late, I wondered if I was approaching some kind of demonstration.

crowd

Then I looked toward the water and saw what the fuss was about. Seven baptism stations…all occupied.

baptism

The youth group from Faith Assembly of God, Orlando, was concluding their weekend youth retreat with 300 baptisms. 300! For about 20 minutes, I attended Faith Assembly of God and found renewed hope for the future.

The lyric,“There’s nothing too dirty, that you can’t make worthy. You wash me in mercy, I am CLEAN!” kept running through my head. If Brooksie had been with me, she would have started singing. I’m guessing they would have joined her.

I have been on a Facebook fast, feeling convicted to spend more time praying. Facebook was stealing far too much of my time and my joy. The prayer that drove the fast is “Lord, send a revival to our college campuses.” As I stood watching the celebration this morning, I wondered if the answer to my prayers was starting right where I was standing – with the youth group at Faith Assembly; a revival that could spread to college campuses and maybe even reach some too-long satisfied, saved, sanctified, sour adults. Wouldn’t THAT be something!

As I turned to walk back to our hotel, I saw the lifeguards pulling a man out of the surf. I learned he was a near drowning, after being sucked into the undertow. My eyes took in his jeans, his leather belt and the look in his eyes as he walked past me to the lifeguard station. I couldn’t help but wonder if his too-far walk into the sea was accidental or purposeful.

The lyric to another song, one the teens would not recognize, began playing in my mind.

i-was-sinking

This morning I witnessed one near drowning and 300 safe…and I was reminded, once again, that the 300 are mine to celebrate. The one? He is mine too. Luke 15 reminds me that Jesus leaves the 300 to find the one.

Who is your “one” this week? Who is mine?

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Hi! My name is JoAnne and I am a Baby Boomer who is partially responsible for Millennials not believing in sin.

23 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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baby boomer, judgement, love, millennials, rules, scripture, sin

Every now and then, a blog circulates whose content I have to process. “Brothers and Sisters, Unwed Pregnancy is not a Sin” is the current recipient of my pondering mind. I found myself mostly challenged and a little troubled as I read the blog.no sinI am troubled because I’m afraid that the generation of which my daughter is a part, really doesn’t believe in sin. I am troubled because if there is no sin, there is no need for a Savior. And if there is no need for a Savior, then everything I’ve believed is undone. Christmas and Easter and everything in between becomes meaningless. That troubles me.the-passion-of-the-christ-05

But, as I read, perhaps what troubled me most was the “why” behind the article; the message that said, “I’m over being condemned by your faith rather than being loved into faith by your faith.” Enter my partial responsibility for your lack of belief in sin.

I’m sorry millennials.

I’m sorry I confused you with rules that have no basis in scripture; rules that Jesus didn’t make but for which I credited Him anyway.

I’m sorry I cut off your questioning simply because your questions scared me.

I’m sorry for the times I put more emphasis on the rules than on the grace-relationship Jesus died to have with you.
Yancy quoteI’m sorry for listening to your words rather than your heart.

I’m sorry that I didn’t always keep “the main thing” the main thing.

I’m sorry if I forgot my primary responsibility with you; love not judgement.

Hear me. I am not against rules. They are a part of life and are often for our good, both as children and as adults. They establish necessary order and boundaries. I am, in fact, FOR rules, especially God-given rules.

What I am against are rules, made up by Christians, that have no basis in scripture. Rules that say we don’t wear hats or jeans to church. Rules that say we shouldn’t celebrate life that is conceived before marriage; a “rule” that too often makes you believe that the abortion clinic is your only option for the life growing inside you. Hard and fast rules erroneously proclaiming that scripture condemns drinking rather than having the conversations with you about why the choice to participate in social drinking carries with it the potential for ruined lives and influence. Rules that say Jesus is against coffee and stained carpet. Rules that say “I will donate this as long as I get to control how it’s used.” Basically, rules that say, “I’m more concerned about my way, my comfort and my power than winning you for Jesus.”  Those rules. I’m against those rules.

The conclusion I’m left to reach is this: it’s no wonder millennials don’t believe in sin when we have called everything we disagree with or are afraid of “sin.” Shame.on.us!

What I need to consistently confess is that scripture does teach about sin and eternal separation from God and I need to be ready with Biblical answers for what those things are. 2_timothy_3_16Not my opinion, God’s. I need to engage with you on your journey. I need to listen. I need to know scripture so I can be true to SCRIPTURE and I need to admit when I don’t know the answer to your questions. We can find those answers together. I need to pray for myself and then for you every day. I need pure motives. I need to let God be God. He will do His job. I need only do the job He has given me to do….LOVE YOU!
And I do – love you!

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Life As Highlight, Delete

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

highlight delete, make life count, sandwich generation

My last post told you that I am in the Sandwich Generation; those years when we are still raising a child while caring for aging parents.  These years have represented far more privilege than dread.  Far more.
sandwich-generationA couple of months ago, I got an unexpected phone call asking me to come to work. The job offer was temporary but it was a good fit so I reported for duty the following day. Currently, I’m still there.  I’m working in an office that assists pastors.  My parents and siblings alone represent seven pastors and one church administrative assistant.  How could I not go honor them?

Last Friday I was working through a data base.  It’s one I didn’t know about until last week and one that needs a bit of updating.  As I was going through the files, the record for John Hancock came onto my screen.  My father-in-law now deceased.  Gone four months ago.
dad HancockI sat and stared at the screen and the name and the life represented.  In the “notes” section it said, “Wife Venita passed away September 2013.”  The life represented.  The lives touched.  The legacy left.

I knew he couldn’t stay in the data base because he would show up in reports and receive mail.  So I highlighted his name.  All I had to do was hit “delete” and I knew this record would be updated.  My job would be done.

I couldn’t.  Instead, I un-highlighted his name and moved to the next.

Later that day I called a co-worker and asked her to take on the task.  I thought I was good by then, but I wasn’t.  I still choked my way through the request.  A little later I got a text that said, “John Hancock has been lovingly removed.”  And I knew she meant it because she loved him too.

Then it hit me.  Just like that.  Highlight.  Delete.  That’s really what life comes down to in the end.  Yes, we leave a legacy.  But the legacy is created in the “highlight” portion of life.  We create a life…in the “highlight.”  We marry poorly or well in the “highlight.” We choose a Savior or not, in the “highlight.”  We introduce others to Jesus, in the “highlight.”  Then, in the end…delete.

I realized on Friday just how much the highlight matters.
Highlight (1)Today – I’m still in the highlight portion of life.  I want to make it count.  I don’t know how long I’ll be in the highlight so it HAS to count now.

What are you doing with your highlight?  Make it matter!

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Helicopter God

10 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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death, helicopter God, helicopter mom, hover, sandwich years

I was 35 when our daughter was born.  I have no idea what I was thinking or doing for those 35 years, but the “older mother” stamp on my OB file confirmed that maybe I should have been thinking and doing long before I was.

Being an “older mom” has, however, had its benefits.  One of those benefits was all of the advice I received from friends who were already pretty far down the child rearing road.  I learned about enjoying the stages of childhood, about saving school papers in pizza boxes, about the truth that it takes 10 minutes to travel from kindergarten to graduation.

And I learned about helicopter moms.

It took me a while to understand what a helicopter mom was but I did know that it wasn’t a compliment.  It wasn’t something I should be.  It was negative.

And once I did understand the meaning of helicopter mom, I could never say I completely agreed with the negative connotation it carried.  In my way of looking at parenting, God Himself entrusted me with the job of a lifetime the day Abi was born.  It was a job that required close observation and attention on my part….for a long time. Even now to some degree.

The word “hover” has always come to mind when I think about a helicopter.  Close. Watching.  Protecting.  Waiting.

What I never wanted to be was a leach mom.  A life sucker.  A hanger-on.  Always attached.

Last night I had a privilege that is becoming all too familiar in these years dubbed “The Sandwich.”  I sat beside the bed of a dying man whom I have loved and respected for nearly as long as I have been alive.  He was mostly unresponsive during the visit but, as I reminisced through the years with silent him, I could feel Helicopter God in the room.

Helicopter God.  Hovering over the bed.  Close.  Watching.  Protecting.  Loving His child. Patiently waiting without interfering.

If you stay in those sandwich years long enough, you eventually work yourself out of them.  The children grow up and leave.  The parents wear out and die.  Children leaving and parents dying can both be times of great celebration.  And often, the greater the celebration, the greater the loss.  It’s painful.

Oh but Helicopter God; He’s in the room.  He’s ready for the celebration.  And He’s also ready to wipe away the tears.  After He’s hovered a while…and shed a few Himself.
Floyd

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When Burger King Comes to Church

06 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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church boss, community, God's way

When Burger King is allowed to come to church we, in essence, proclaim:
burger kingAnd we’re in big trouble.

All the while, King Jesus is waiting to be invited.  He proclaims:
I am the wayAnd now we have a chance for our communities to be changed.

Which is it for you?
heavensWhich role do you play?  Is it your way or the highway?  Or are you one who blesses your church by allowing God to have His way?

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Fasting May Be Old Fashioned But It Still Works

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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fasting, obedience, parsonage, prayer

During my sixth and seventh years of life our family lived in Glassboro, NJ. I can’t say I have a lot of memories of those years but among them are the woods behind our house that served as our playground; woods filled with poison ivy and a path that led to the sewage treatment plant, scientific experiments that included slugs and salt, the beautiful teenage girl that fascinated me when she used orange juice cans to curl her hair, mom giving piano lessons to Steve, the Sunday night dad and a couple of laymen staked out the dark church hoping to catch whomever was stealing the altar flowers every week and my introduction to fasting.
Glassboro woodsWednesday nights were called “Prayer and Fasting” and since our home was dubbed “the parsonage,” you can be sure we participated. I don’t recall mom and dad eating anything but, since there were four children between the ages of 4 and 9, some semblance of dinner had to be served.

Among my facebook friends there are many who would give a hearty “yes” to the question “Can I get a witness?” regarding the culinary skills of my mother. She could compete with any 5 star chef. Not only that, she has always been the master of creating fellowship memories around a table filled with incredible food.
feastBut my memory serves a very different story when it came to our Wednesday fasts. I remember long faces staring at bowls of soup and no homemade bread in sight. I also remember the night mom cut and fried an eggplant so that we thought we were getting the very rare treat of French fries. Suffice it to say that my brother Dave never did take well to food trickery and he is still bitter about this event in his life.
eating soupI don’t know if it was my early childhood experience or the fact that I’m one who can get busy on a project and simply forget to eat but, I have never been one to fast. Enter early November, 2013. Forty five years after the eggplant debacle. And God, as only God can, began speaking to my heart about a fast.
fastingMy heart had been growing increasingly heavy regarding a personal situation that was not resolving with me in charge.  Fancy that!  Because I skip meals by nature, God was asking me to fast sweets…through the holidays…and trust HIM to work out my concerns. So there I was, already with all of our decorations in storage and now facing the choice of obedience regarding the absence of cookies, cakes and cheesecakes. I love sweets. Even more, I love Christmas sweets.
DSC_0322You know what is so interesting? When I made the choice to obey, giving up the sweets was not even difficult. It was the obedience part that was most difficult – the first step. Then God took over. And in His loving way, He put a guard over my mouth regarding the situation and He worked all things for good as I committed the situation to Him through prayer.

My plea was not immediately resolved. It was a process. But the process now belonged to Him.  My hands were off.  His hands were on.  Things were now in proper order.
prayer and fastingColossians 4:2 Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving.

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Dear Layman…

18 Saturday Oct 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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laymen, pastor, pastor appreciation, PK's, prayer, Shepherd, tithe

Dear Layman,

Last week I wrote a letter to your shepherd leader.  This week it’s your turn.  I’ve never been a pastor so my letter to your leader was also a letter to my own leader.

I have, however, been a layman.  When you are a pastor’s wife (which I am) you are sort of stuck in between but, because my husband traveled as an evangelist for twenty years and I mostly stayed home, I got to be a real, live layman and I liked it.  There are freedoms afforded laymen that pastors never have.  I even spent several years serving on a church board.  If nothing else confirms me a layman, that certainly does.

And so I have a few things on my heart to say to you…and to myself.  Some of them will morph between my lay eyes and my parsonage eyes.  All of them are said from a heart of love.

We all have reasons for choosing the church we attend.  Sometimes it’s simply where our family has always attended.  Sometimes it’s the only church of our chosen denomination in the town in which we live.  Sometimes it’s for good preaching or preferred music or friends or children’s ministries or youth groups.

None of those are bad reasons.  But in every church we attend, there is a pastor hoping and praying for laymen who support him.

So how can we support our pastor?

1)  Pray for him.  Every day.  Whether we like his preaching or not.  Whether we agree with his leadership style or not.  Whether we liked what he wore last Sunday or not.  Whether we think he’s paid too much or not.  Whether his kids behave or not.  And especially if his kids don’t behave.  Pray for him.  It’s our chosen church.  He’s our pastor.  Pray.for.him.
Pray for your pastor2)  You and I can either be his cheerleader or we can be a huge discouragement to him.  It’s our choice.  Choose the high road.  Choose to treat him the way you want your own family members to be treated.  My first pastor’s wife (aside from my own mom) was an elementary teacher.  She had a wall plaque that said, “My teacher thought I was smarter than I was, so I was.”  I loved the sentiment when it hung in her home and I love it now.  Over the years I have allowed it to morph into any area where someone holds leadership over me.  For example:  “I think my pastor is better than he is, so he is.”  You and I really can make that much difference.  Will you choose to?
cheerleading3)  Stay mindful that the pastor is called to shepherd.  You aren’t.  I’m not.  We should be very slow in telling him how to do his job.  I am amazed when laymen who have never felt a call to vocational ministry tell their pastor how to pastor.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a pastor tell a layman how to run a classroom or how to manage their business.  So why do we tell our pastor how to pastor?  Do I believe there is a place for a review?  Yes I do.  But even there I think we need to be very prayerful and careful.  An effective review can and should benefit everyone; pastor and people.  Do I believe there is a place for disrespect?  No I don’t…ever.

4)  Let’s agree to stop saying, “I’ll be here long after he’s gone.”  I have heard these words in every church I’ve ever attended.  I’ve heard them in churches where I’ve visited.  I’ve heard them at camp meetings.  I have heard them on a boat.  I have read them in a note.
brainsWithout exception those seven words are spoken when a) we don’t like our pastor and we’re going to let everyone know, or b) our pastor has hurt us.  Those are two very different scenarios.  One makes me want to say “Grow up.”  The other makes me want to say “I’m sorry.”  Yet, in either case, the person hurt the most is the person proclaiming the words.  Those words keep us from getting involved.

They hurt the very church we love more than they ever hurt the pastor they are spoken against. 

Why?  Because we likely WILL be here long after he’s gone. 

And he’ll likely go someplace better.

But us?  We’ll be left in a church that has missed out on years of our good, positive contributions.

5)  Let’s stop expecting our pastors to be counselors.  Most aren’t trained to be and simply get into trouble when they play them on TV…or in their offices.   Instead, let’s protect our pastors by providing them with a list of counselors they can recommend when the need arises.  Part of the problem here is that counseling is expensive and our pastors are free.  Remember: we get what we pay for.
lucy-psychiatrist6)  Applaud his time away.  Whether we see it or not (and we don’t), his job is 24/7.  Bless his vacation.  Hold him accountable to a Sabbath every week.

7)  Allow the pastor to dream.  His dreams are for us.  Support his vision.  Build up.  Don’t tear down.

Be responsive to your pastoral leaders.  Listen to their counsel.  They are alert to the condition of your lives and work under the strict supervision of God.  Contribute to the joy of their leadership, not its drudgery.  Why would you want to make things harder for them?  -Hebrews 13:17 (Msg)

8)  Pay your tithe.  Paying tithe is second nature in our home.  My husband and I were both raised to give God His portion first.  When you start that as a kid, it’s pretty easy to continue it in adulthood.  That said, I realize many, many of you were not raised that way or you came to faith later.  So paying tithe is a difficult concept for you.  Maybe you are so over extended that you really can’t give 10%.  I understand that.  Just start somewhere.  Give something.
tithing-giving-offeringsIt’s not about your pastor.  It’s not even about your church.  It’s about you and God.

It’s a subject for a dedicated blog, but I am amazed at how our money stretches when we honor God with it.

9)  Be generous.  My experience has been that when a church is generous with their pastor, they are a generous church in every area.  Keep in mind that there is a huge difference between generosity and control.  One is a blessing; the other is anything but a blessing.  Be generous.

10)  Love the pastor’s children.  As laymen we really do have the power to either help parsonage children come to a place of faith or land in a place of bitterness.  With all my heart I believe we will be held accountable for how we treat our pastor and the effect that has on his children.  We should never kid ourselves.  It does affect them.  No matter how old they are…
PKSo there you have it from one layman to another.  It’s pastor appreciation month.  Let’s honor him this month but, better yet, let’s honor him all year.  And let’s include his family.

I’d love to have you join me.

JoAnne Hancock

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Lessons Learned in the Sanibel Stoop, Part 2

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

≈ 1 Comment

The shells washing ashore provide examples of the many ways we can survive the storms of life and arrive safely at our destination.
IMG_1837
We can arrive connected.  Together.  With the help of a friend.

Carry each other’s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
-Galatians 6:2

IMG_1841
We can be carried or hidden.  Sometimes we are absolutely without strength for the journey.  We need to be protected.  We need to be hidden under His wings.

The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation.  He is my stronghold, my refuge and my savior.  -II Samuel 22:2-3
IMG_1838
We arrive young and we arrive old.  One thing is for sure.  There are no guarantees on the number of our days.  It’s amazing to me that God created the sea to protect both the tiniest and the hardiest shells.  He does the same for human kind.

Your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  -Psalm 139:16
IMG_1842
We can arrived battered and broken.  The battering can be self imposed or inflicted on us by another.  The good news is….we can still arrive.

The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good.  -I Peter 5:10
IMG_1843
There is no discrimination.  My dad used to say “the ground is level around the cross.”  It is.  The One who created us will welcome us home without regard to our color or size.

In Christ’s family there can be no division into Jew and non-Jew, slave and free, male and female.  Among us you are all equal.  -Galations 3:28
IMG_1839
And when we get there we, who have made Him our Way, will each be His prize possession.  We will know Him and be known by Him for He was there in the shaping of us all along.

And God saw what He had made and it was good.  -Genesis 1:31
Well done good and faithful servant.  -Matthew 25:23

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Lessons Learned in the Sanibel Stoop

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by JoAnne Hancock in Ministry Musings

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Tags

Comfort, Easy Street, life storms, ocean, Sanibel Stoop, shells

When I was a kid we lived for a couple of years on the east coast.  And because my parents were both born and raised outside of Philadelphia, our family grew accustomed to the Jersey shore.  We enjoyed the board walk, salt water taffy, small amusement parks and birch beer; all compliments to salt water, sand and waves.  Outside of one trip to Florida, it’s what I knew of the ocean and what I knew, I also loved.

After I had been married for about ten years, my in-laws retired to Clearwater, FL.  For twenty years we made at least one trip south each year to visit them and I became acquainted with the whiter sand and calmer, warmer waters of the Gulf Coast.  Call me fickle but, I basically broke up with the Atlantic Ocean in favor of the Gulf Coast.

Before mom and dad Hancock retired they purchased a time share on Sanibel Island, FL which is where I find my blessed self this week.  This is where I learned about the “Sanibel Stoop.”  The Sanibel Stoop is so well known that photographers and artists have captured and framed it.
Sanibel StoopSanibel is an island off of the gulf coast that is situated in such a way that sea shells land on her shores by the millions.  Hunting for the perfect shell is sport here.  I can sit on the lanai and watch stooped people search for hours.  Or I can join them.  So I do.

True to the gulf coast, the waters of Sanibel are generally calm and rather clear.  However, for the last couple of days there have been storms brewing out in the gulf.  Those storms have picked up the winds and stirred up the sea creating rough surf and unusual waves.  All that does is interfere with the thrill of the hunt because it creates murky waters in which prized shells cannot be found.  Yes, there are lots of shells on the beach but those have been picked over by the shell hunting fanatics who are out there with lights attached to their foreheads before the break of dawn.  Not it.

So this morning when I left for my walk, I didn’t even grab a shell collecting bag.  I knew it was useless today just like it was yesterday.  Only today I headed west instead of east and as I rounded a corner thousands and thousands of shells were being washed up in the turn.  The angle must have been perfect for the depositing of shells.
shellsIt didn’t take long until I was frustrated with the rough surf and cloudy water.  Every time the tide would pull back and open a window, the sea would come crashing back over a prized shell siting.  I stood there like a child at recess playing tag with the sea.  And the sea was winning.

And then God showed up and invited me back into the classroom where we began to review the lessons from the last several years.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few years trying to get a clear picture of what is beneath the stirred up waters of life’s storms.  And every time it felt like I might have permission to see, another cloudy wave would hit.  And another.  And another. The window has, more often than not, felt painted shut.

And then it struck me that the piece of perfection I was looking for today was buried beneath the storm’s messy place and that without the storm, it would not ever be a piece of perfection.  The mess of the storm was perfecting the mess of my life.

It was then that I got to thinking about the fact that my life had always been relatively easy.  In fact, I expected easy almost as if God owed it to me simply because I claim His name.  Like He never approved anything difficult in my life because He loved me too much for that.  And I thought about Lauren Legge.  And I thought about Stephanie Hagar-Nicholson.  And I thought about my own brother.  All are proof that Jesus never promised Easy Street.
Easy StreetAnd then I saw it.  And I got my fingers around it.  The perfect conch shell.  The single shell that is the thrill of the hunt for me.  The shell that is my teacher today.
IMG_1839The shell, through which, Jesus said to me, “My purpose for you is that you make it safely home.  It will take storms and rough seas to get you there.  In fact, you can’t arrive without surviving them.  But I’ve created a safe place under the raging seas if you will meet me there.  From there, I’ll carry you in.”

I’m still in the sea.  I’m still being perfected.  Some days the waters are rougher than others.  I’m thankful for the days of calm.  I’m even becoming more thankful for the storms…sometimes…sort of.

Mostly?  I’m thankful for a God who meets me there.

One of the greatest evidences of God’s love to those that love Him is, to send them afflictions, with grace to bear them.  ~ John Wesley

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