It’s Not About Me

By DiAne Gates –

I got nothing from the sermon this morning. Should have stayed home. The music was loud and consisted of fifteen words, repeated over and over. And not a soul spoke to me.

Hmm, ever thought that?

Come on now, ‘fess up. I have.

Last week a friend of mine loaned me a book she bought at a garage sale. The title was In His Steps, by Charles M. Sheldon, published by Moody Press in 1956. This powerful book has caused me to rethink and refocus on the object of worship. And the conclusion is clear. . .

Worship is not about me.

What? That statement begs the question, then who or what is worship all about? What I get out of church? Me feeling good when I leave church? Me hearing the pastor give an acceptable sermon?

Or is my purpose to sit at Jesus feet and become more like Him? Only the Spirit can accomplish that in me—my part is to be quiet, to listen, and then obey. Scripture says I am to, “Enter His gates with thanksgiving and come into His courts with praise. Be thankful unto Him and bless His name” (Psalm 100:4 KJV).

Worship is all about God—not about me.

And to be truthful, if I’m not worshipping before I reach the church building, chances are I’m not going to worship once I’m inside.

So why do I go to church? Several thoughts spring to mind: To hear the pastor’s message and read God’s Word? To sing and listen to the special music, and enjoy the company of friends who believe as I do?

But is that worship?

Worship convicts me when I humble myself and recognize my traditions and self-righteousness are like filthy rags before God. I realize the vast chasm between a holy God and a sinner like me, then acknowledge and accept that Jesus paid the debt for my sins and gave me life—eternal life. And I am thankful.

Jesus commended the tax collector who stood outside the tabernacle and beat on his breast, crying out, “God be merciful to me—a sinner.” But He condemned the Pharisee who said, “God I thank Thee that I am not like other people…even like this tax collector” (Luke 18:11-13 NAS).

I don’t recall thinking, Lord, be merciful to me. I’m a sinner, as I’m racing through the church doors before the first song or prayer. I don’t even remember spending those moments in the car driving to church contemplating my desperate need for Him. Roget’s Thesaurus lists the verb worship as “adore, cherish, respect.”

Who? Him?

Have I? No. It’s been all about me.

Is it any wonder I leave church in worse shape than when I arrived?

Are you tired of sitting in church every Sunday, singing a few praise choruses, reading a few scriptures, praying, then continuing with business as usual Monday through Friday? I wonder if our lives would change if we committed to ask Jesus what He would do each day, in every circumstance of our lives—relationships, finances, business?

In His Steps tells about a pastor and his congregation who found themselves asking that same question after an unsettling experience during a Sunday service brought them to question the core of their worship. They chose to surrender to the power of the Spirit of God. As a result, the preacher, the congregation, and their town was changed.

Those believers did not take their commitment lightly, nor should we. When we seek answers from man, we receive only what man can provide. When we ask God, we receive wisdom, power, and understanding from the Lord God Almighty.

But the battle begins in our hearts and minds. Our sinful nature shouts, “It’s all about me.” But when we make the choice to worship God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ and we choose to follow in His steps, victory is certain.

I ask you to search for a copy of Charles M. Sheldon’s book and read it. Ask God to speak to your heart about worship, then share with others what He says to you.

The Sacrifice of Praise

By DiAne Gates –

I flopped on the couch this morning, my mood as gray and heavy as the stormy sky. This week has been filled with problems—serious, heart wrenching family problems. I’ve been reading through the Book of Psalm and today was the 66th Psalm, which began:

“Shout joyfully to God, all the earth; sing the glory of His name; Make His praise glorious. Say to God, “How awesome are Thy works!”

Shouting joyfully to God was not on my agenda this morning. Rather murmuring and whining.

I read the psalm over again and remembered several other psalms. This wasn’t a suggestion. My brain screamed, All right, God. How? How can I be joyful about anything today? You know my heart is breaking.

But the words on the page didn’t change.

The silence was deafening. Why? Why is this imperative statement repeated over and over throughout the psalms?

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving, and His courts with praise. Be thankful unto Him and bless His name for the Lord is good” (Psalm 100:4 KJV).

“O sing to the Lord a new song, for He has done wonderful things” (Psalm 98:1KJV).

“I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall continually be in my mouth” (Psalm 34:1 KJV).

That still, small voice whispered to my heart, “To come any other way tells Me you don’t trust Me.” I sucked a deep breath and heard, “Oh ye of little faith. In all of your sixty-nine-years, have I provided for you? Protected you and proven that I am at work in all things in your life? In all of your trials, sorrows, or problems have I ever left you alone?”

I lowered my head. “I’m sorry, Lord. Yes. You are always faithful. Please forgive me and I will offer the sacrifice of praise to You.”

That was the answer!

When I’m on top of the world and everything’s going my way, it’s easy to praise. Singing joy-filled songs at that moment costs me nothing thing. Was it David or Abraham who said they wouldn’t offer anything to God that didn’t cost them something?

Hmm. Could it be that coming before God with thanksgiving and praise, in spite of my circumstances, is that sacrifice of praise the psalmist wrote about? Could it be when I murmur and complain I’m saying, “God, you’ve not told me the truth. You’re not good.”

A bubble of joy gurgled deep in my soul and shattered the shroud of gloom that had consumed my heart. I reread the words of Psalm 66 and agreed with God that He was indeed an awesome, magnificent, and mighty God in all circumstances of life.

Throughout the morning, I sang, “What a Mighty God We Serve.” His peace filled my heart because I chose to obey His Word.

His joy changed my thoughts and emotions all day. Have the problems vanished? No. But in those quiet moments this morning, I gave them to Jesus. They’re too heavy for me to bear.

How about you? Are burdens suffocating your joy today? Wringing the last particle of endurance from your spirit? Are there burdens you need to relinquish to Him? He’s ready to listen and act when you come to Him. Sing the glory of His name, even with eyes pouring tears of sorrow. Offer Him the sacrifice of praise. Trust His faithfulness to work all things together for your good and His glory, because you’re His child. You belong to Him.

That doesn’t mean all things are good. Joseph spent twenty years in prison. I’m sure those prison bars didn’t seem good. But God was at work. Even when Joseph didn’t see or understand what He was doing. Read the account of Joseph’s life in Genesis 37-50 and remember. God hasn’t yet revealed the final line of your story. Do you trust Him? Then offer that sacrifice of praise. You can, because He never fails.

Clean, Dry, Towels

By DiAne Gates –

“Enter into His gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise. Be thankful unto Him and bless His name. For the Lord is good. His mercy is everlasting and His truth endures to all generations” (KJV Psalm 100:4-5).

Roberto joined our Vacation Bible School In The Park in Houston, Texas. This tall and lanky sixth grader’s enormous dark chocolate eyes spilled over with sadness that made him appear older than his twelve years. But Roberto was the first to arrive each day for VBS.

Now, summertime in Texas arrives the day after Easter, so by the time school was out and Bible School began the temps were scorching by 10 AM. Add humidity to the equation and it was a recipe for wring-and-droop. What I would have given for a clean towel to mop the sweat that dripped from every pore.

The week progressed and I learned this young man was a budding artist. He had five brothers and sisters. Their family lived in an apartment complex and shared a bathroom with two other families. Paper, paint, and brushes for Robert were not on this family’s shopping list.

The last day of Bible School we had a picnic for the children, complete with food, games, and gifts. Roberto’s gift was paper, paints, brushes, and socks—three pair of athletic socks. Those sad brown eyes turned into sparkles when he exclaimed “thank you” over and over again. Would any of our children be exuberant over a small sack of inexpensive gifts like those? Probably not. Hugs were shared and we boarded the bus back to our church in the suburbs.

I arrived home hot and grimy. The first thing on the agenda? A bath. Filling the tub to the top, I slid into the refreshing water and Roberto’s family—sharing a bathroom with more than fifteen people—flashed through my mind. Face to face with his reality made an indelible mark on my heart.

A tornado had ripped across town the week before and many of those folks were displaced from their homes—no personal soak time for them either—and no clean, dry, towels.

I pulled a fluffy towel from the rack, inhaled the scent of fabric softener, and was ashamed of my ingratitude. Like those lepers Jesus healed who forgot to say thank you, I never thought to say thank you for my bathroom, the water, or the clean, dry, towels.

Surrounded by a mountain of provisions from my Lord God and I failed to thank Him for running water, a pantry filled with food, plates to eat on, a car to drive, grass to run through, flowers to enjoy, family, friends—the list of blessings goes on and on. For goodness sake, a washing machine to do the laundry. The majority of people all over this earth lack these conveniences. God has blessed my family beyond measure and I haven’t even thought to thank Him. How about you?

I learned from Roberto never to complain when I must wait for anyone to vacate a bathroom. And I’m now grateful to fold a load of laundry—anytime—‘specially those clean, dry, towels.

Father, please teach me to be still before You each day. To remember to thank You for each and every provision you give to me, even the simple, small ones that I take for granted. Everything comes from You. You are the giver of every good gift.

A Dream

By DiAne Gates –

SCRIPTURE: “How precious are Thou thoughts to me, O God! How vast is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand. When I awake, I am still with Thee” (Psalm 139:17-18 NAS).

A dream. A realistic dream. A dream that remains alive and vivid hours later. A week later. What about you? Ever had such a dream? Did you dismiss it? Miss it? Or forget about it?

In the early hours of last Tuesday morning, I had such a dream. I’ve never put much stock in dreams. But this one—so lifelike, so clear, so intense.

Monday night I went to bed mulling over a problem and the dream opened with me telling two men about my problem. One, a dear friend, the other the pastor of the church where I grew up—Dr. Homer Lindsay, Sr.

I finished stating my problem. Dr. Lindsay got up out of his chair, came over, and put his arm around me. He leaned close to my ear and said, “DiAne, you remember Jeremiah 29:11, don’t you?”

I replied, “Yes sir.” And we quoted it in unison, his voice recognizable and intelligible. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.”

The dream ended, my eyes flashed open, and a sense of comfort and hope that only God can give wrapped around me and carried me through the morning with a renewed sense of security and joy.

Until four A.M. the following morning when my husband woke me. “DiAne.” He spoke in a voice I’ve come to understand means trouble. “We have a problem. It’s my heart. I want you to drive me to Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas.”

We were in Longview, Texas—two hours away from Dallas and Presbyterian Hospital.

I sprang from the covers and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a shirt. “O Lord!” my mind raced and my heart quaked. “What’s he thinking? I can’t drive two hours with him. In the car. About to have a heart attack.”

Another thought zipped through my mind. Look at his color. I turned on the light and looked at his face. His color was good. Warm. Not the pasty gray of a heart attack. Immediately the dream of the previous night flashed across my consciousness and the peace of God took control of my terrified heart and I heard—drive him to Presbyterian in Dallas.

We made the drive in record time. And for the next thirty-six hours, the medical staff at Presbyterian Dallas accomplished the necessary tests to confirm that my husband did not and was not having a heart attack. His previous bypasses and stints were unchanged and blood was coursing through his arteries as it should be.

For once in my life, I rested in the promise God confirmed to me the night before all this transpired, and reminded Him of that promise during that two-hour drive Wednesday morning. I traveled through those thirty-six hours at peace with the knowledge God was in control—not me.

Almost a week has passed and I paused this morning to contemplate how many times I’ve missed or dismissed God’s instructions and warnings. Choosing instead to race ahead of the stresses and strains of life. Always running. Refusing to be still. Neglecting to rest in Him.

Father in Heaven, help me remember. Remember to listen and heed your Word and Your warnings. Remember that You are the same yesterday, today and forever. And remember that You think of me—all the time.

Texting God

By DiAne Gates –

Are we raising a generation of young people who are incapable of understanding the deep bonds of love and the necessity of personal relationships with others and with God?

I believe we are.

Christmas morning my eleven-year-old grandson texted me to say he received a brand new phone for Christmas.

“Great,” I texted back. “Now you can call me more often.”

He quickly returned my text. “No, Mimi. Now I can text you faster.”

I sighed and typed a response. “Focus on calling, sweetheart. Mimi loves to hear the sound of your voice.”

My grandson came for a visit between Christmas and New Years and for some unknown reason, in the middle of the week, his new super phone screen went black. He could receive calls but was unable to text. The boy had a momentary meltdown. His communication to the outside world—ceased! But as the week progressed, we had time to talk. He had a wonderful time and the world did not end—even though he couldn’t text.

Texting, emailing and all the other timesaving technological conveniences of this age are no substitute for face-to-face, one-on-one, verbal communications with family, friends, and especially with God.

“Relationships.” Do kids even have a clue what a relationship is?

My grandkids may have 200 “friends” with whom they text and email on Facebook, Twitter or whatever. They believe these are relationships. But they are mere acquaintances—if that. Three and four word texts, via electronic device, cannot weave lasting emotional bonds between people.

And talk about “text,” what about the Bible?

Are today’s young people even able to read passages longer than a three line text or comprehend the eternal consequences of ignoring or rebelling against The Lord God Almighty who is the same yesterday, today, and forever? They can text and operate all this plethora of high tech machinery, know the lyrics of every song on their IPod, but have trouble believing or caring much less connecting the dots from creation, to the cross, and into eternity. And forget about “hiding God’s Word” in their hearts (Psalm 119:11 NKJ). They will tell you they don’t have the time or inclination to do so.

Throughout scripture, God tells of His people crying out to Him, His hearing and answering their prayers. King David says, “I love the Lord, because He hears my voice and my supplications. Because He has inclined His ear to me, therefore I shall call upon Him as long as I live” (Psalm 116:1-2 NAS).
.
God created me in His image and for His pleasure. I was made to have an intimate, personal relationship with God the Father, and His Son the Lord Jesus Christ. Without that kinship, there is an empty chasm in my heart and soul. But, there can’t be a relationship unless there is time spent together, unless there is truth and respect, and unless intimacy exists between the parties, whether it’s between spouses, friends and family or especially God.

I love to hear my children and grandchildren’s voices. Have you considered that God loves to hear your voice too? Not in a three or four word text, muttered in a time of tragedy or despair or when you’re about to fall asleep. But from the depth of your soul and the need of your heart, on your knees—quiet and still, before the only One who hears and answers your prayers.

« Previous Page — Next Page »