What puzzles you?

            To conclude Christmas this year, I have been watching Evan Almighty throughout the waning hours of the morning.  Being asked to complete a project admittedly requires a sense of patience and I’m sure if the big man himself asked me to assemble one of those 10000 piece puzzles, that I would not only be lost on how to begin but that I would probably not be able to visualize the significance.  But what if God revealed the big picture?  Would you have the courage to stick out the puzzle until its completion?  Noah sought God.  In doing so, he was asked to build a ship in the middle of a drought for justice and purity.  His story is told in greater detail in Genesis 6.  The patience his family had for him must have been the life jacket that kept him afloat for I, given my nature of backstage preference, would not be able to complete such a monument in broad daylight before the world.   Might there have been a slight moment when he stood back and flummoxed the scenario?  I would view the situation as Woody approaches Bud Light Year for the first time after he "crash lands" on Andy's bed: with suspicion and intrigue.  To which God's reply would probably be: "You are a sad, strange little man...you have my pity." (Sorry, couldn't resist).

When asking for patience for service, I have found it difficult to extract myself from the moment to view the opportunity.  God may as well be John Madden with how many circles he draws around an individual or a deed suggesting “Choose me” or “Over here, I need your help.” Maybe it is due to my distaste in football but I completely ignore these signals especially those drawn by a more omnipotent source than the football celebrity.

Opportunity is all around, appearing more so when we ask and still presented when we don’t.  The garbage required burning, so my Aunt volunteered to remove the waste during this eves party.  I noticed out of the corner of my scope and was soon to assist.  While outside, gathered around the burning pile, she said “We grow into responsibility but are given more if we ask.”  Many instances in life can attest and any blank can be filled by a glimpse of school work or the various chores needing to be tackled about the household.  A checklist use to exist once my brother and I returned home from a gruesomely tiresome day of school work (or so we thought).  My brother would tackle the dog (at times, literally) while I nurtured the cats.  Working together, and attempting to balance the work load was never easy and often found one or the other with an extra chore but it was the moments when one of us stepped out of routine that our parents would truly give us credit.  On the other hand, by failing to accomplish the designated feat, we were relentlessly whipped with a wet noodle and sent to our rooms. 

Our parents were always right on though.  They always seemed to have a sixth sense about those white lies we swept into play rather than simply sweeping the porch.  My brother was brilliant, and rather witty, being able to string together gibberish into plausible events while I would stumble over my lunch earlier that day.

As I had mentioned beforehand, “going the extra mile” had been apart of our upbringing.  My mother, being a first grade teaching instilled in us the prospect and glory of extra credit.  She would always encourage us to put forth that extra weekend effort or coloring job to earn even a measly few bonus points.  “It shows your teacher that you care and are learning.” She would rebuttal my grunts as my fingers cramped and Saturday anxiety set in to waste away the day with nothing more than movies and crazy outside antics in the hose.  (For clarity, our hose did not work, but down the street a farming family owned a dinky sprinkler in the shape of a tractor, which they would place right next to the road and we thought it was totally cool just to ride by on bicycle and get squirted.  This may be lame in theory, but felt grand on warm summer days just before falling from ones bike, Ghost Rider style and scraping your knee because the water sprayed your eye.  We, of course, meant to do that…

One feat that I have always meant to accomplish has been a Rubik’ Cube.  Seeing film of children miraculously spinning this square into completion have left me to feel not only incredibly blown away by their skills, but taken aback by my own lack of patience and sight, two vital parts of the process.  One must be able to persevere long enough (not just removing the stickers or asking someone else to have a go) but actually stick with the object.  A greater vision is required as well in that this will enable for a better vantage for the next turn needed and the overall completion of the puzzle.

            This elementary concept, of extra effort and random out spurts of genuine dedication did the trick.  With the aide of extra credit, grades were generally fairly decent, though elementary seemed to be pretty accepting through its scheme of S & S+.  Once High School rolled about, weekend projects seemed second nature.

            Even my church life, for some reason, decided to become proactive.  I sat, sandwiched in the most crowded pew available, one Sunday evening, only to weasel my way behind my mother during service to gently whisper in her ear that I was ready.

I wandered to the front, during invitation, and was dunked by the minister.  The thought had completely vacated my mind that I had been having study sessions with him every Saturday for the past few months.  Each visit, he would pop in a VHS about the bible and I would answer questions in a small booklet no larger than the ones issued every year at Camp.  The material wasn’t very difficult, and I always was given the option to review the film, pause, stop, rewind etc. to locate a missing article or something that I had simply bypassed.  A promise had been made, given that my new minister was a magician, that if I were to score perfectly on one of the pamphlets, that he would perform a magic trick (which he was fairly skilled with I might add).  I was determined to receive the bestest score possible, unfortunately each session yielded being only a few questions shy.  Everything came to rest upon the final mentoring session.  I felt the quiz to be pretty simple but much to my dismay, I had missed a question.  Being pretty much the greatest magician ever (at least in my book) and because my mother had baked cookies, he readily performed a trick regardless.  All of these thoughts did not flash into my memory, until my first nights rest after the submersion.  During the ceremony, I pretty much felt blank and dazed:  Blank while shoved under and dazed because immediately after drying and standing for a procession of hugs I had immediately skipped to my minister to request next Sunday’s scripture reading!  What am I doing!??!  I have never been a public speaker let alone a server in church.  I opened doors at my father’s church, but that was only because I was young and my dad wished for us to be put to use rather than running wild.  What If I stutter or choke?  Or my pants fall?  (Well at least there will be a podium that I may hide behind though I should probably wear a belt).  HELP!

            Standing at the Lord’s Table seemed somewhat easier.  You were in front of the congregation (only about 100 being that I come from a small church) but you were surrounded by your friends so the mass was not necessarily staring at you, but they were listening during the prayer.  Scripture was completely solo.  No crew or posse of prayers, just the bible, you and the crowd of followers.  Asking for this duty provided enough concerns but seemed remarkably less worry worthy than originally predicted.  I didn’t mind being upon the stage and I was simply reading.  I am halfway literate…that’s a start I suppose.

            It would seem as though each opportunity that we make ourselves available and accept the tasks placed before us that more will soon take their spot.  And as my wise aunt mentioned that more shall be placed into our laps.  Sometimes I feel as though I were not made for this; that others, more gifted with speech and powerful thought, were meant to live in my shoes.  I began by opening doors, against my will until it became second nature.  Somehow along the lines the Lord decided that more should be set upon my plate.  I am not in any way arguing my portion or being ungrateful for I believe that this is his feast that I have been privileged to attend.  Sometimes though, I question, why me?  Why am I honored to dine with you and serve in such a manner when my friend, who has no idea who you are, is much more influential?  Or this girl I know, wow can she sing.  Why not sing through her?  I met this one person, and though I had no idea who they were…they were just glowing!  With all of these people at your finger tips…why me?

            This has been the strangest string of thought and pardon me if I scroll up to check whether or not any point has been made [scrolls] but I feel as though our desire has some wage with how the Lord uses us.  To possess the yearning and passion to stand and live is something that I admire in those whose drive is for his will.  When opportunity shows itself, pulling back that curtain just enough to let a slim amount of light through, grab and hold tight to that hope, for there will be more to come.   One must merely be ready for the light in the first place, even while it is yet dark.

            This is why Noah’s story fascinates me.  He followed, no matter how painstaking or abnormal it made him seem.  He listened and obeyed.  I believe that the Lord can work wonders by himself but will ask our help if we are willing, sometimes even if we aren’t (i.e. Moses helping to save his people from Egypt).  The Lord will use us if we make ourselves available.  Having the courage to stand when others shy away may be one instance.  Helping though we are completely “out of our league” let alone our comfort zones may be another.  A friend holds a devotional at his house.  The men that gather each contribute their wisdom into the discussions and it always seems to transcend our own hopes for each meeting.  Something that has been made clear is that even though we were chosen we still must be willing to serve.  This may be one reason why the Jews were leapfrogged by the Gentiles for some time.

            I am still learning to recognize each door and window that the Lord bursts open for me and at times I am quick to shut them because I am uncomfortable and bashful but it is not becoming for the doormen to seal their post from the guests. 

Matthew 25 portrays the parable of the ten virgins preparing to meet the Bridegroom.  Five were wise, in that they stocked up on oil for the evening; however, the other five were foolish and did not prepare.  The guests arrived and guess who was left out in the cold…

In a sense this is discussing being prepared for what we know to be inevitable, the coming of the Lord.  But I believe there is a gesture of willingness professed in the text as well.  The five wise servants set out and prepared.

These 10 were given a notion while Noah was given explicit instructions.  In either situation, our dedication is going to be the deciding factor.  What will we give and to what lengths will we serve?  This may decided whether we sink or float (Terrible pun but hopefully a point).

Revelations 3:20 “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with me.” Matthew 25:13 submits the concept “"Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”  Given that we know not of the Lord’s return, hopefully, I will be at my sentry when he needs me…

This is my puzzle that I struggle with each day, my personal Rubik’s cube. 

(5:20) am...Happy Holidays everyone.  Sleep well.

~Deus fortuno