Where’s it Hiding?

By Kim Stokely –

“Mom!” My son cried from the kitchen. “Where’s the parmesan cheese?”

“Top shelf of the refrigerator,” I yelled back from the basement. Where it always is, I thought.

“It’s not there.” His voice sounded mournful. Like someone had killed his dog.

I trudged upstairs to find him staring into the open fridge, dejected. At first glance, I didn’t see the missing jar of grated parmesan cheese either, but then, feeling like Gandalf, I moved a gallon of milk and it appeared. “Voila!” I exclaimed as I handed it to my son. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

I like when things that are missing are so easily found.

I’ve come to believe, however, that there’s a black hole in my house sucking in odd socks and lip balm. I don’t know where they get sent, perhaps some distant planet where alien beings only have one foot and dreadfully cold, dry air. It’s amazing how quickly those items disappear from my house. I’m thinking of calling NASA in to investigate.

Some things you misplace and you know they’ll turn up eventually on their own. Things like car keys and cell phones. I’m convinced they roam the house like cats only to reappear when it suits them or they need to be recharged.

Lately, however, I’ve been losing weird things. Like spaghetti squash.

I mean really, how does one lose a spaghetti squash? I remember buying it at the store, but for the life of me, I can’t find it in my car or in the house. Unfortunately, I’m sure in another week, the smell of rotting pulp will lead me to the missing gourd.

In Psalm 139, David tells us that there is never a time we are out of God’s sight. He doesn’t misplace us on some cosmic counter in heaven. We can’t be lost amid a pile of clutter. Even if we want to disappear, there is nowhere we can hide. “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there” (Psalm 139:8 NIV). My husband, a former Navy submariner, took great comfort in knowing that even though he was on the bottom of the ocean, God could still see and protect him.

It’s a blessing to me as well, to know that I am never out of God’s sight. At least somebody knows where I am, because most days, I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sniff around my house to try and find that missing squash.

You Guilty Dog!

By Dawn Wilson –

A funny YouTube video, “Which is the Guilty Dog?”, is a priceless example of the guilt response. The video features three adorable dogs responding to the question, “Who did this mess?”

The first time the question is asked, Guilty Dog’s companions turn their heads and look at him. They have no trouble ratting him out! “He’s the guilty one, Mom. Just look at him!”

Guilty Dog squints his eyes.

Then the lady in the video addresses each dog individually. “Cody, did you make this mess? Murphy, did you make this mess? Maggie, did you make this mess?”

Guilty Dog cringes.

“Somebody made it,” the lady says. “Who made it? Who made this mess?”

Overwhelmed, Guilty Dog cowers and leaves the room in shame.

How like humans when we face the sinful messes in our lives. We cringe and want to hide.

I saw that response in my young sons. Adults learn to disguise their guilt – to cover up. But children … not so much. I remember one son, standing before me with chocolate fudge frosting over his top lip. I asked, “Did you eat a cupcake?”

“No, Mom,” he said. I stared him down, stifling a chuckle, until he confessed.

My husband’s family tells a story, passed down as part of their family heritage. Bob and his three siblings faced tough interrogation:

Mom Wilson asked, “Who stole the orange slices?” No one confessed. They blamed each other – even little Jimmy who could barely walk! No one will admit to the “crime” this side of heaven.

As a teenager, I tried to cast blame on others – “Look what he did, God. He’s worse than me!” My sin-hiding skills improved and I thought myself quite righteous.

Yet scriptures I’d heard or memorized haunted me, especially, “All have sinned” and “The wages of sin is death” (Romans 3:23; 6:23 NIV). I recalled that sin brings separation from God (Isaiah 59:2), self-righteousness equals filth in God’s sight (Isaiah 64:6) and good works will never please God (Ephesians 2:9).

I was so proud. I would find a better way to hide sin and be a “good girl.” But God’s Spirit kept bringing sinful attitudes and actions to mind. And Satan piled on too, not knowing he played into God’s plan to redeem me. “You are scum,” the enemy said. “You’re worthless!”

At age 21, while serving as a singer in a revival ministry, I heard the evangelist read these words: “I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!” (Matthew 7:23 NIV). Another version says, “lawbreakers,” and I argued with God. “I’m not a lawbreaker. I’ve never had one traffic ticket; I just speed a little,” I said. “I never cheated on a test. Well, almost never. And I love everyone … except her.”

One Tuesday as I sang “Do You Know My Jesus?” in a Christian high school, I couldn’t shake those words, “I never knew you.” I knew a lot about God, but I didn’t know Him in a personal relationship. I was trying to save myself, but I desperately needed a Savior to change my heart.

I left the microphone in the middle of the song and wept my way to the prayer room—a turning point in my life. God began a work of transformation. Now, when the enemy comes to accuse me, I point to my Savior and say, “Take it up with Jesus. He took my sin and guilt.”

Sweet freedom. This Guilty Dog is righteous and justified in Christ (Romans 3:19-26).

The Clothes Make the Man?

By Rhonda Rhea –

Glass half full person. Glass half empty person. I tend to be more of a dribble-whatever’s- in- the- glass- down- my- shirt person. It’s always best if I try to coordinate whatever I’m wearing with the meal of the moment. That’s one big reason I so want a chocolate suit.

My husband? We should always buy him shirts made of ink. Spots under the pocket wouldn’t be spots. They would just be, well, more shirt. They say the clothes make the man. If that’s true, Richie’s clothes make him…INK MAN. Yet you should know (and I’m not saying this with even a hint of sarcasm), “Ink Man” will always be my hero. He has a special “spot” in my heart.

In a spiritual battle, I choose to team up with those who are well-armed. The villains waging war against us in this life are heavier on the evil than any you’ll find in your average super hero movie. Paul tells us in Ephesians 6:1-12, “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (ESV).

“Cosmic powers over this present darkness”? Nothing in the comics compares. Then again, nothing—imaginary or real—compares with the strength we find in the armor of God. We’re able to stand against evil as we put on that armor. If Tony Stark came strutting up to some giant super villain without his suit, not only would he look ridiculous, but he would also be toast. I can just imagine him trying to shoot power beams out of his hands. Nothing. Or maybe jumping up to fly off, getting nowhere. As a super hero, Tony is nakedly nothing without the suit.

Even worse, he’s defenseless. It would be the ultimate in foolishness for him to even think of going into a battle with an evil nemesis without his shields up.

For us spiritually, we are armed and battle-ready when we take off anything fleshly—all traces of self-sufficiency and those prideful thoughts that seek to deceive us into thinking we have any kind of power of our own we can carry into the fray. Verse 10 in that Ephesians 6 passage makes it clear where our battle-readiness should come from: “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.” His strength. His might. Because it’s His battle. And the next verse tells us we should put on the whole armor “of God.” Not of self. Not of man. Not of any of our own ideas of how super-hero strength should operate. His armor.

No power on this planet or any other can prevail against us when we’re armored up. His truth enables us, His righteousness empowers us, His Gospel of peace emboldens us and the faith He gives us fortifies us. No need for any glass half-full kind of thinking here. We can’t lose.

Battles fought in His strength? I’m happy to tell you in the most positive way that we’re “well-suited” for each and every one.

I Want to be Eddy!

By Liz Cowen Furman –

Since March is big basketball time, I was recalling basketball events in my past. My husband is a coach (a good one) and all three of our boys played. I even coached Micah’s team when he was in 5th grade.

When our oldest was in 9th grade at Conifer High School, he was on the freshman basketball team. Coach Wilson was a wonderful coach, he made the boys believe they could do anything. He also knew the game of basketball, not just how to play, but how to teach others to play the game, which I have discovered is a wonderful combination not often found in coaches.

Our archrival was Evergreen High School and the day before the big varsity game, the freshman team played. My two younger boys and I arrived at Evergreen’s gym over an hour before the freshman game was scheduled to start as I had the wrong time. Typical. The Evergreen varsity team was still practicing.

We quietly sat down in the stands to watch. As I listened to the coach, I heard him shout at one young man, “You be Eddy” and then to my surprise, the entire team tried to figure out what to do to stop Eddy. Aaron Eddy was one of our star varsity players.

I sat there musing about how wonderful it would be to be the big menace. Such a threat that the whole opposing team would be trying to figure out how to stop you. I had to tell his Mom when I saw her the next day. We laughed aloud. I’m sure when she shared that news with her son, he was thrilled.

Later, it struck me. In the spiritual realm, I want to be Eddy!

I want to be so close to Jesus, so in tune with His plan that Satan and his minions will forever be trying to figure out how to get around me.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not taunting Satan. I know he is the ruler of this world, Jesus said so in the book of John. I understand the pain and suffering he can cause. However, I read to the end. We WIN. As long we are on Jesus’ team, no matter how difficult the journey to the finish line, we can know, we win. I take great comfort in that thought!

So don’t lose heart. Stay on the winning team; join with me in being a thorn in the side of the one who causes pain. Let’s be people of prayer, people of action, people of decision and cultivate a thankful heart. Then watch what happens!

Just Visiting

By Kim Stokely –

On a recent business trip, my husband and two co-workers wandered the streets of Old Town Albuquerque looking for a place to eat. The guide book had said this was an eclectic section of the city filled with delightful shops and restaurants, but on this Monday night, things looked dead.

An old car rattled up beside them. Like something out of a movie, the driver rolled down his window and asked, “You want to buy some turquoise?”

My husband and his friends looked at each other, shook their heads and the guy drove off. For the rest of their visit they wondered whether the dude was really selling precious stones out of his car or was “turquoise” local slang for crack?

Some behaviors, like wandering a deserted part of town, instantly point you out as a tourist. Staring up at the skyscrapers in New York City or bringing a case of bottled water with you to anywhere in South America are other examples. Here in Omaha, visitors always seem surprised that cows don’t roam the streets and every house doesn’t have a cornfield in the backyard.

Sometimes, however, it appears that just our attitude can single us out as different.

I’ll never forget visiting relatives in England when I was a teenager. My aunt brought me down to her pub for dinner one night and before I’d even spoken a word, the cook asked if I was American.

“How’d you know?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Americans have a certain way they walk.”

I thought about that a lot. How someone could tell I didn’t belong somewhere because of the way I walked.

Did I swagger obnoxiously? Or maybe I slouched in like a thief? When I asked my cousin about it later, she told me Americans walk with a certain confidence that most others don’t.

I’d like my walk with God to single me out in the same way. Not that I want people to think I’m overly confident, but I want them to sense that I don’t fit in. After all, this isn’t my home. That’s not to say I shouldn’t walk in it and help out where I can, but people shouldn’t think I belong here. If I become too comfortable with the world around me, it means I’ve stopped focusing on God. I need to be like the tourists in New York City, my eyes looking up. Not on skyscrapers, but on my heavenly home.

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