Let Me Not Be Ashamed

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Sometimes I wonder if God giggles under His breath at my interpretations of His words. Those same words He so carefully chose, written by the messengers He so carefully chose, so that I would never be left in the dark.

He never meant for me to figure this life out by myself.

So when I try, it’s no wonder I get it wrong.

“Let me not be ashamed.” I’ve read these recurring passages throughout the book of Psalms hundreds of times, focusing, of course, on the parts that affect me the most.

My translation of this was simple, and somewhat selfish, so my prayers naturally followed suit.

“Dear God, Let nothing happen that might cause me embarrassment, or make a fool out of me. Keep failure far from my family. I have my pride, you know? And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep that and my reputation intact.”

Building a house on the slippery foundation of pride will ensure that it will come tumbling down around me, especially when I remain the focus of my prayers.

Recently, when life was not going particularly the way I hoped, I happened across this verse. Life was spinning out of my control, and I had difficulty finding the peace I so generously recommend to others.

“What if I end up making a fool out of myself?” I asked.

How is it that I claim to trust God with my life, but then provide for Him a list of parameters with which to work?

But then I’m gently reminded that the Creator of the Universe does not need my help, nor my parameters. He needs my trust, my submission, and more than anything, for me to surrender my pride; for me to quit worrying about what other people think of me and my family.

‘Let me not be ashamed’ might require me to get my hands dirty. It might require me to go willingly to places that might make me uncomfortable. It might require me to take risks, especially when failure is a strong possibility.

It might require me to take on the heart of God, so that the fear of embarrassment or shame no longer crosses my mind.

Because, when I think about it, my only goal is to give back to Him the life He first gave to me, to be used as needed.

Which means it should never have been about me in the first place.

PRAYER: Dear God, let us not be ashamed, nor be worried about anything that might bring us shame. Help us to see the world through Your eyes, so that our focus remains on You rather than ourselves. This is Your world, and that is all we need to know. Help us to rest in that,. We trust you with our happy endings. Teach us to trust you also then with our shame.

“I trust in you. Do not let me be put to shame, nor let my enemies triumph over me” (Psalm 25:2NIV).

Finding My Answers on Father’s Day

By Janet Morris Grimes –

I often wonder how it went, that last week of his life.

The accident was on a Tuesday morning just outside of Memphis, TN. Daddy was in the passenger seat, taking his seatbelt off for a moment to reach for some books in the back seat. The brakes failed. Going through the windshield, he hit his head on a tractor-trailer parked on the side of the road.

Mom tells me he never woke up. His head shaved and swollen; his broken jaw was wired shut, making him unrecognizable.

My grandmother once shared that she knew they were in trouble when they moved the family to a private waiting room the following day. Her ‘mother instinct’ kicked in before the doctors delivered the news.

November 15, 1967

Cause of death: Severe Cerebral Contusion.

After piecing this together for the past 43 years, I know this part of the story well.

But it leaves a million unanswered questions.

What did he do for his 27th birthday, just a couple of weeks earlier?

What did he preach about for his sermon that last Sunday morning?

What did he say to Mom as he left that morning, and who called to let her know?

As a young girl, I hated the fact that I had no memories of my Daddy. The truth is that to this day, I would still give anything to have known him, to remember his voice, his touch, and the look in his eyes.

But I realized something through the years of this process known as grief; maybe, by having no memories of my own, God was somehow protecting me from the pain.

Because I was a baby, I never received the phone call that changed everything, nor did I suffer through a painful funeral, visit the crash sight, or see my Daddy so broken that he was unrecognizable.

Having no memories might just be a blessing. Because of this, I was free to be an innocent child. A child, who, for as long as I can remember, had only one goal; the goal of getting to heaven.

This week, especially, I have no choice but to think of Daddy in a way that rips my heart open.

It’s what stops me in my tracks the second I hear of someone else’s loss. It’s what draws me to all the other mommies and babies who lose their daddies. It holds me accountable and allows me to treasure the life and family that I’ve been given.

And for all of my unanswered questions, I believe I finally found an answer to my greatest one; the question that kept me awake at night for most of my life.

Dear God, Why couldn’t Daddy have lived?

The answer is on right in front of me, hand-written on his death certificate.

“Severe Cerebral Contusion.”

I fully believe now that God rescued my Daddy on that early Wednesday morning back in 1967.

He saved him by bringing him home, because that was the only way to completely heal him.

By doing this, God protected him from the pain, just like He did for me.

And now I understand what healing is all about.

PRAYER – Dear God, Be with the fatherless on this Father’s Day. Hold them close, and be their Father, just as You have done for me. Heal any broken relationships, and mend the hearts of those who are hurting. Thank you for Fathers, and for choosing us to be your children.

“A Father to the fatherless, a defender of widows is God in his holy temple” (Psalm 68:5 NIV).

From Despair to Peace

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Have you ever noticed the difference between 22 and 23? In the book of Psalms, I mean. As many times as I’ve read through those passages, I never considered putting the two of them together. What a sharp contrast they bring to each other.

The twenty-second Psalm begins like this: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?”

And then there is the twenty-third Psalm, perhaps the most well-known Psalm of all. The Psalm that calms the soul. “The LORD is my Shepherd. I lack nothing.”

Both are psalms, or devotional songs, written by David. Both exposed the depths of his heart in the truest of ways. And both demonstrate one of the key traits of a deepening relationship with God–the ongoing conversation.

I don’t know what transpired between the 22nd or 23rd Psalm. How much time passed between them? Were they written one after another, chronologically? Or were they just placed in that order by happenstance?

It really does not matter. What matters is that they represent two extremes of the bond between David and his God.

David doubted. He begged. He pleaded. He laid his fears and longings on the altar, releasing his anger along with them. He wondered what was taking so long, or if God was even listening at all.

These are feelings each of us can relate to; at times, we all feel that God is more distant than ever.

So, how did David get from the depths of his despair to the place of peace, beside the still waters mentioned in Psalm 23?

In order to reach that same destination, we must follow the path left by the rest of Psalm 22. David first reminds himself of who God is, and who He has always been. In verse 10, he says “from my mother’s womb, you have been my God.” In verse 11, David recognizes that no one else can help him; “trouble is near, and there is no one to help.”

He then begins to cross over the bridge that leads to the place of peace—the place we most desire. David claims the victory God was already providing, even before he saw the evidence. In verse 31, David rejoices, “they will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn, ‘he has done it!’”
PRAYER: Dear God, help us find your path to peace. Thank you for allowing us to ask the tough questions, and thank you even more for answering them. Lead us beside the still waters; to the place where we fully understand that we truly lack nothing.

“He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake” (Psalm 23:3 NIV).

Letter to a Beloved Atheist

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Dear Friend,

I am not sure where to start. I see you over on the opposite sideline, pacing, contemplating, but never wondering. Often, our eyes meet for a second too long, but we just turn away, afraid to address our differences.

But I love you, and with that comes this obligation to share what is on my heart, whether you want to hear it or not. Because I love you enough to allow you to be mad at me, if that’s what it takes.

I love you enough to no longer remain silent.

Here is what I know about you. Your path has been difficult, filled with betrayal by the people you loved the most. You craved acceptance, but received just the opposite. You feel as if you have let everyone down at one point or another, so rather than carry that guilt around with you, you had to let it go. Your survival demanded it.

You lost most of the people who have been close to you; some to death, painful and unexpected. Others walked out of your life by choice, which left even deeper scars. You searched for a life raft to keep you from sinking when surrounded by one storm after another. But a timeline of disappointments left you feeling more abandoned than ever, and you decided the only person you could truly depend on was yourself.

Still, I know that at one time, you believed.

But something within you has changed. Did it become easier to decide there was no God at all, than to consider the possibility that if He was here, He must not care about you?

After all, how could a God who loves you allow such terrible things to happen?

I have asked that same question many times.

So, I get it. And I know this relationship I have with God is not something I can shove down your throat, nor can I be the extension cord that connects the two of you; it is something you have to discover for yourself.

At times, I hear you mocking me, even as I pray; even when you are the one that drops me to my knees. You stand with your guard up, ready to debate every theory from evolution to eternity; the beginning to the end. You crave the argument, and any chance to spread doubt in others, as if you enjoy keeping score.

I will never buy into the battle that pits God vs. Science. Science is the study of all that God has created; the universe is too magnificent to have happened accidentally. The One who knit the world together thought of everything, and He does not need our help to figure it out.

Still, I love you enough to listen to your opinion. For now.

But, Eternity is where I draw the line.

Because I love you too much to allow you to be separated from God forever. Away from God, no good thing can exist, which is the definition of Hell.

It all points to Heaven. This is the reason life makes little sense at times. This world is only temporary.

In the end, I need for you to be there with me. In Heaven, back in the arms of the One who created you.

Because you are perfect in my eyes.

And I love you.

Luke 16:27–28 “…I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.”

Time Has Not Come

By Janet Morris Grimes –

Jesus knew what would happen, once he left the solace of the wood shop behind. As the world found out about him, some would love him while others hated him. Some would use him, trying to twist his words and actions to manipulate others. While others, those who were hurting, would chase him from town to town, ready to sacrifice anything just for the chance to touch the hem of his garment.

He knew big, life-changing plans were in the works, but he kept it a secret, content to follow God’s plan on God’s timetable.

His first recorded miracle took place at a wedding during his 30th year. There as a guest with his family, his mother came to him to present a problem that could cause embarrassment to their hosts.

“They have run out of wine.” Mary explains, saying nothing further.

But Jesus understands. “Why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come?”

He knows a miracle is needed, even if it is a small one;  a surface-level miracle rather than an eternal one. He knows it’s just the kind of miracle we would try to perform, if we could do such a thing. We could fill a need and wow an audience at the same time.

After a few moments of thought, Jesus stepped out onto the public stage, aware that all of his preparations in advance were about to pay off. He would later rely that deep relationship with God that he had fed through the years.  He would call on those scriptures filed away in both his memory and his heart. Jesus spent 30 years figuring out who he was and what he was all about before ever revealing it to the world.

If you ever feel as if nothing is happening in your life, consider the fact that God may be using this time He has alone with you to get you ready for whatever is next. Maybe it is a public stage and perhaps it is not. Take advantage of the time without distractions. He appreciates the opportunity to reveal himself to you, in the most personal of ways.

It’s your heart He is after. And once He has that completely, He can’t wait to share it with the world. Because your story is His story, and when people get to know you, they might also get to know Him as well.

And that is what I call a miracle, only when the time is right. Truly worth the wait; God’s plan on God’s timeline.

On the third day, a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus mother was there and Jesus and his disciples had been invited to the wedding. When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have no more wine” (John 2:1 -5).

“Why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

« Previous Page — Next Page »