Into the Furnace!

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Late last year we had a severe cold snap. Thirteen below for over a week. Very unlike our mountains, especially that early in our winter season. One particularly windy morning I had the fire burning briskly in the fireplace as I sat writing at the computer on one side of the hearth that opens to two rooms.

All at once, a startling urge to look at the fireplace washed over me. The flames were so huge, and in the next instant the terrifying realization hit me that those flames were not IN the fireplace.

I dashed to the other side of the rock wall to see our parrot’s cage engulfed in flames, with Meyer in it. When he saw me, he screamed. I in turn screamed for my son, Matthew, to come help as I grabbed the half-full glasses of coffee and juice sitting on the table. I threw the contents at Meyer’s cage door so I could open it and attempt a rescue. As the fire raged around my head, I entered the inferno and reached for my terrified bird. I felt like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

He tried flying to me, but his left wing feathers were burned off. He fell onto the red-hot metal cage bars then immediately let go. I caught him midair just as Matthew appeared and began throwing the jugs of Kangen water (twelve gallons in all) we miraculously had sitting in the dining room at the rapidly growing flames.

I raced our panicked bird to an upstairs bathroom, away from the flames and smoke. We wanted no fried bird for dinner! I then dashed back down to help Matthew.

So many miracles surround that terrifying event. First of all, I wasn’t supposed to be there. But for a phone call from a dear friend, I would have been gone. We surely would have lost not only the bird, but Grammie downstairs, Matthew upstairs sleeping, our pooches Timo and Price, and our home.

The insurance is replacing the flooring in our kitchen, which I have always hated, and not only that room, but much of the downstairs. Not to mention that a very nice crew of folks came and washed EVERYTHING in our house, including every knick-knack, every wall, and even washed our laundry. Our house had never been so clean.

The most miraculous fact is that I practically crawled into a blazing furnace and all that happened to me was that I burned off my eyebrows and arm hair, and I have very short eyelashes now. Meyer bird is recovering nicely, too. His feathers are all growing back in and he doesn’t have to fly in circles with just one wing intact.

The big take-home for me is that God is with us, in the good times and there leading, guiding and directing in the scary horrifying times too. I can rest more securely in that great verse from Psalm 46:1, knowing we had angels working overtime that day.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble” (NIV).

Being Committed

By Kim Stokely –

Ah, the New Year. A time to look over past achievements and set goals for the future. A good friend of mine once asked, “If I’ve accomplished all my New Year’s Resolutions by January 9th, did I set my goals too low?”

Maybe.

I hate making goals. They mock me. As soon as I make one, all of life seems to conjoin to keep me from accomplishing it. If I say I’m going to lose weight, then strangers start throwing chocolate my way. If I promise I’m going to write a certain amount of words each day, then my computer freezes or my zip drive gets lost. If I commit to a quiet time in Bible study and prayer, then every telemarketer from here to Mumbai calls for that exact hour.

Instead of “goals” I prefer lists. They’re a little less formal. More laid back. A list invites me to accomplish it, rather than demanding my participation. I can check things off at my leisure. There’s no deadline. No obligation.

This kind of attitude doesn’t work in my walk with God, however. Not if I want to grow in any measurable way. God doesn’t demand that I seek Him, but He certainly rewards those who are faithful. If I’m putting my relationship with God on some kind of checklist, then there’s a good chance I’m taking it too lightly. Treating it too casually. There’s a saying, the difference between being involved with someone and being committed to them is like a ham and eggs breakfast. The chicken is involved with the meal. The pig is committed.

This year I’m setting one goal. I’m going to strive to be more committed to my relationship to God. Intentional in the time I spend with Him. Not out of obligation, or because He’s on my list of “things to do,” but because I long to have the kind of faith that He desires for me.

The great thing about this resolution is I can’t set a deadline for when I have to have it accomplished. There is no actual “goal.” I will never be perfect or sinless. I can never know all there is to know about God. He will never run out of ways to surprise me. Although I can never fulfill this resolution, I can never fail at it either, because as long as I am seeking to know more about Him, I’ll be successful.

Thank God for ‘Re-do’s

By Dawn Wilson –

A story about a sneaky painter reminds me of the blessings of a second chance. As the story goes, the painter thinned down his paint for years while charging his clients full price. One day a local pastor hired the man to paint his church.

“All right!” the painter thought. “I can make some big bucks – it’s going to take a lot of paint!” True to his character, the schemer thinned down the paint and started painting.

Suddenly, a storm swept through the town and a bolt of lightning hit the painter, knocking him from the ladder. As storm clouds swirled and lightning struck near him again and again, the painter feared for his life. “Help me, God,” he yelled. “I know I’ve done wrong. What can I do to get a second chance?”

And a voice boomed from heaven: “Re-paint, re-paint … and thin no more!”

Ah yes, the blessing of repentance. When we confess our sins, God is merciful, faithful to forgive us (1 John 1:9). “How joyful is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered!” (Psalm 32:1 HCSB).

By God’s grace our sins were cast behind His back and He refuses to remember them anymore (Isaiah 43:25; Hebrews 8:12). In the words of an old hymn, “My sins were like a heavy stone God cast and buried in the sea. As east so far from west is thrown, My sins have been removed from me!”

I’ve always appreciated the freshness of a new day. As Christian author and pastor Todd Stocker wrote in Refined: Turning Pain into Purpose, “A sunrise is God’s way of saying, ‘Let’s start again.’”

In a much broader way, we experience this freshness in the sunrise of a new year. Some will make a list of New Year’s resolutions. Others, knowing the dismal results of resolutions in years gone by, will skip the list and simply seek God for a new vision or direction. Perhaps a motivating scripture will keep many on track. Two friends taught me the value of asking the Lord for a “word” to embrace. Last year my word was God-confidence. The word inspired me to create a new ministry, trusting God for strength and wisdom.

This side of heaven, our Maker understands our weaknesses and He is the God of the second chance. And the third. And many more.

Repentance. Confession. Forgiveness. A fresh start. Those fresh beginnings allow for daily choices to draw closer to God, and to obey Him fully and bring Him glory as we become more like Jesus. It’s all possible because of God’s grace.

Have you thanked God for His grace and the countless ‘re-do’s in your own life?

The Ranks of the Bleary-Eyed

By Liz Cowen Furman –

As a child, I never understood why my Mom and Dad were such sleepyheads on Christmas morning. Then we had kids, and my husband and I joined the ranks of the bleary-eyed. (All despite heroic attempts to get everything done before midnight). Yet even in my sleep-deprived state, I could not believe the joy it gave me to watch our kids’ faces as they peered at the gifts under the tree. It was as though their smiles and delighted squeals transported me back to my own childhood Christmas mornings, only better.

One year, in a feeble effort to get more sleep, Dave tied a rope to the doorknob of the boys’ room and pulled it across the hall closing it in our door so that they couldn’t open theirs until we opened ours. We laughed ‘till we cried when the boys woke at 5:00 a.m. and couldn’t get their door open. You should have heard the ruckus. We still laugh about that every Christmas.

When I was a youngster, my parents gave the countdown and my sisters and I tore into the gifts all at once. Dave’s family took a different approach that once I adjusted to, I love also.

Here’s how it worked. Christmas music drifted through the room, everyone munched on gooey homemade cinnamon rolls and the adults sipped coffee, as the boys sorted and handed out the packages. Then, one at time, starting with the youngest, the opening began. It was such fun seeing what everyone received AND their reactions.

The smallest in the group could play with their gifts and their stocking contents that we all opened at once before we began, while the older ones carried on with the opening. The result was a lovely, relaxed family time punctuated by a few great laughs when someone would open one of Papa’s goofy gag gifts. We still practice this method today with our nearly grown children and whoever we are blessed to have under our roof on Christmas morn.

I never understood why, if it is Christ’s birthday, we get the presents. So, when our kids were little, we started a new tradition. We all wrote what we were giving to Jesus on a card to put in His stocking on the mantel. After all the gifts were opened, someone would read His last (He is the oldest). Notes like the one Micah wrote when he was about eight:

Dear Jesus,

For Christmas for You I bought a present for the family we adopted through Angel Tree.

Love, Micah

I loved those days when our kids were little, but having adult kids has its merits also. Like the fact that because they are so tired when they come home from college, we practically have to drag them out of bed on Christmas morning.

The traditions we kept over the years with our boys have become my fondest memories of the season. Like Baby Jesus’ birthday party and white elephant gift exchange on Christmas Eve or gingerbread house making parties.

When people whine that Christmas decorations are going up in the stores too soon, I’m thrilled. It means my kids will soon be home and that we will be celebrating my best friend Jesus’ birthday. What could be better? Merry Christmas!

Giving All—Mind, Body and Brownies

By Rhonda Rhea –

My workout routine for today: stirred brownie batter. It was really thick brownie batter too. So thick I’m probably going to need a nap. Right after I eat this brownie.

I was contemplating being out of shape the other day as I pulled out my new gym membership card. I should explain here that my new gym membership card isn’t nearly so much about my workout routine as it is my imagination. But I figure even if I don’t have an active lifestyle, at least I do have an active imagination. So there’s that. Now if I can only teach myself to eat imaginary brownies. Yeah, not very likely, that.

Still, pretty sure I’ll eventually need to do something about all these layers insulating my abs. Disturbing as it is, each layer is about the consistency of brownie batter. Like parfait gone terribly wrong. Ew.

Didn’t I read somewhere I could “think” myself thin? In that vein, I think I’ll plan some imaginary cardio for later this afternoon. Then again, for all of us who plan to “think” our exercise, abs of batter will probably always be our buns of steel.

While we’re thinking about it, how about a reminder to put more than just thought into our faith life? An intellectual exercise alone will do about as much for our spiritual well-being as imaginary exercise will do for us physically.

Maybe you’ve read Romans 12: 1-2 even more times than I’ve dodged my workouts. I read it routinely. And though I read it routinely, it’s always a heart-charger. Like spiritual cardio, this passage so often becomes a faith workout routine for my heart and mind: “Therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, I urge you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God; this is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God” (HCSB).

That’s the kind of spiritual cardio that is truly heart-changing. I’m reminded here to present my body, brownies and all. And I’m reminded to let my mind be renewed too. Both are exercises of obedience. Both are exercises of faith. The Lord wants our bodies. He wants our minds. He wants us heart, soul—absolutely all. He wants us in the most complete, scrape-every-part-of-the-bowl way.

Following Him is not merely an intellectual exercise. It’s verified in our sacrifice. It’s at the point of total surrender that we’re free to understand, to “discern,” the “perfect will of God.”

O Lord, may we be ever-ready to give body, mind, heart and soul to you in loving obedience.

As far as the physical workout goes, I’m thinking one of the things I should exercise is better judgment. Yesterday I stood up, yawned, then totally counted that as my yoga. I don’t even do yoga. Not to mention, after that I figured I’d earned a brownie.

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