Called? Or, Recalled?

My recent excursion to the left side of the United States of America (read: Kalifornia) took me from snow and ice and sub-zero temperatures, to palm trees and green grass and 80 degrees Fahrenheit. It also took me from my immediate family to visit some extended family. And while there, I decided to exercise the Biblical principle of 'not forsaking the friend of my father', and called on some friends of the family I had not seen in some years.

Now, when you're in a Los Angeles-sized multitude of strangers, even the most remotely familiar acquaintance can suddenly seem like an old friend, so after a brief visit in church, I offered to join him for a day at his construction project outside of the city.

It turned out to be a genuine renovation project, the kind I've been familiar with, with plenty of dust and dirt, and crooked walls, sagging floors, and uneven studs. So, we enjoyed the sweat, endured the dust, and tackled the job, while chatting, discussing, and occasionally debating.

"So tell me, Isaac," He mused, "Have you ever considered that perhaps, God may have a calling for your life?"

I smiled. "Of course I have," I answered, "And I can certainly say, that I have no doubt whatsoever that God does have a calling and a plan for my life".

"Well", He paused, "What is it then, and how are you pursuing it?"


I fell silent for a moment, and continued stapling insulation to the ceiling, while I thought about the question.

You see, I knew what he was thinking. I knew that all his life he had wanted to work for the Lord. So he had pursued mission work, and medical work, and teaching work. He had been a pastor. He had, in short, pursued every 'calling' that he felt was 'the Lord's work'. And now he was doing construction, earnestly desiring to be out there, doing the Lord's work, instead of in here, building such temporal buildings.

I knew his heart was honest, and that his desire was pure and commendable. His pursuits had been honorable, and his endeavors never lacking in dedication. And in the question he asked me, I could see that he still felt that a 'calling' simply couldn't be something like... renovating homes.

What is a 'calling', anyways? Is it something that some Christians get, and some don't? Is it something that preachers and missionaries get, while carpenters and fishermen don't? Why are some occupations thought of as 'callings', and others as, well, just whatever you came with? Are some Christians 'called', while others remain in 'uncalled' occupations?

I thought of Paul's words, written to the Colossians, ...and whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.... And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.

I thought of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the Almighty God, working for thirty years in a carpenter's shop - even while His cousin was out on the banks of Jordan, fulfilling His 'calling'. Was one occupation a 'calling', and the other not? Was one 'the Lord's work', and the other not. Was one holy, and the other 'unholy'?

And I thought of myself. And I thought of my own responsibilities, and achievements, and my ideals and ambitions. So much of life ahead is unknown. So much is unclear. And after seeking the Lord's will for all these years, I could only conclude one thing: I know what responsibilities the Lord has given me, but I do not know what He will give me. I know what my present duties are, but I do not know what my future duties may be. And I know, that these present duties, are my present calling. And therefore, in all my occupations, I endeavor to work as to the Lord, and to be faithful in them, to Him. And however small they may seem, however temporal they may be in their own right, my work is for an eternal purpose - not because of the task, but because of the Master.

And so I answered: "Jesus told a parable once, of a nobleman who was departing on a journey. He called three of his servants, and delivered to them diverse talents, and told them 'Occupy till I come'. And we all know what each of those servants did, and how they 'occupied', what happened to the talents, and what transpired upon their master's return.

"Proverbs tells us, 'despise not the day of small things', and Jesus told us, 'He who is faithful in little, is faithful also in much'. To be quite honest with you, I do not know what duties the Lord may call me to in the future, but I know what duties He has given me here in the present. It may seem that my present duties are temporal ones. It may seem that my present occupations as a businessman, or a farmer, or a carpenter are not 'the Lord's work'. But I know, that if I am faithful in what I've been given, and if I work, not for my own gain, but for the Lord's glory, then who knows, but maybe one day, He'll call me to be a ruler over ten cities."

He was silent for a moment, and then concluded, "I never thought of it quite like that, but well, I guess, we're doing the Lord's work right here then!"

"You bet", I grinned, spanking the drywall dust off of my pants, "-Not because of the task, but because of the Master."

I went to the window for a breath of fresh air and looked down through the fog that had rolled in, thinking again about my ambitions and hopes, and desires. I realized that I'd just become aware of one more subtle reality of God's calling:

You see, there's a subtle trap in even the blessed duties of preaching and ministering. Too often when we're called to those places, we begin viewing the 'work' as the focus of our calling. True, it's 'the Lord's work', but even in that, not because of the work, but because of the Master.

I don't know what positions the Lord may call me to in this life, but whatever and wherever, I have resolved to serve HIM to the fullest that His grace empowers me to - whether in music, in business, in farming, in ministry, in government, and (last but in no wise least) family. Do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not to men.

I know I've fallen far short of that attitude, but even so, God has blessed me with many blessings - the least of which I am profoundly undeserving. Indeed, the years of eternity are too short to balance the accounts of divine grace and my human weakness, but this is not an exercise in futility - this is the Refiner's fire.

God bless you all as you pursue His calling for your life!

Where there's smoke, there's fire.

The moon slipped slowly past its zenith. The dogs lay, curled in their particular posts. There was nothing at this time of night to warrant even canine attention. The refrigerator lay silent. The clock read 4:30 AM. And I slept.

You see, when I go to bed, I go to sleep. And I sleep until I wake up (or rather, the alarm wakes me up). And when I wake up, I get up. But right now, I'm sleeping... zzzz...

4:32AM.

4:34AM

4:35AM

I'm still sleeping. But, despite the appearances of perfect slumber and tranquility, something is bringing me to consciousness, even though I'm hardly aware of it.

Slowly, a thin, acrid scent filters through my nostrils.

Where there's smoke, as the saying goes, there's fire.

Instantly, I'm wide awake.

Instantly my smeller starts processing the noxious odour. It smells... electrical... and synthetic. Almost... like burning carpet, but not quite. I know what that smells like, because when I was three years old I thought I'd press the floor and make it look nice - with my mom's iron. However, when she called me, I jumped up and ran out, leaving it on the floor behind the chair. Well... a few minutes later we discovered what burning carpet smells like - and I still remember it. But this smells more like... polyvinylchloride, perhaps.

I jump out of bed and go to the door. But outside in the hall, the air is clean. I pause and sniff around, and go back into my room.

Phew. It certainly is still here. And getting stronger fairly quickly. I turn on the light, and glance around at all the outlets. The one under the desk has nothing plugged into it. The one by the bed has the alarm clock plugged into it and appears normal. But there's one more - behind the dresser. And on top of that dresser is the fishtank - full of water and rather heavy. And now I can hear an ominous hissing and crackling from behind it.

I heave the dresser and fishtank away from the wall, and there, the light cord for the aquarium is rapidly smoking away. I can't quite reach it, and sparks are flying out of it.

Seventeen years ago I had an unpleasant experience with faulty wiring, and I've had a bit of residual phobia of anything electrical that appears remotely unsafe. I was about four years old, and one afternoon took up the idea of organizing my dad's workspace. It was actually right here where I'm sitting in my office now, but at that time, there were no desks, no curtains, no carpet - it was just a concrete garage with a few machines in it, with extension cords snaked all over the floor, because, of course, there were no outlets wired yet.

And a four-year-old has a way of tripping over extension cords, so I was going to organize them. I picked them up off the floor, untangled them, took the loops and knots out, and routed them in a more orderly fashion. But I never finished the job.

Two cords were connected, and I picked it up to disconnect them. It was a heavy duty cord with a metal, grounded plug. Well, it was supposed to be grounded, but back in the outlet, some wires had shifted, and, no one knew it, but hot current was flowing through the ground line, and to that metal cap.

And the four-year-old boy, standing in stocking feet on a concrete floor, picked it up, and 120 volts of electricity began flowing through his right arm, down through his body, to his feet, to the floor.

I'll never forget the feeling. There was thunder in my ears, and the world spun around me, and the floor felt like it was violently quaking, as if I were being shaken like a rat in a dog's mouth.

And what was worse, was that the electricity flowing through my arm had entirely hijacked the control of my muscles, and caused my hand to uncontrollably grip the plug. I couldn't let go.

I don't know how long the ordeal lasted, but it lasted as long as it took my mother to hear some whimpering from the other side of the house, and get there, and yank the cord from the wall.

The Lord preserved my life and health, but the burns to my hand took months to heal, and I will carry the scars for the rest of my life. And ever since then, I hesitate to approach unprotected electricity.

So I heaved the dresser farther away from the wall, and tried to pull the plug. But the two probes were in the process of welding into the outlet. So I gripped the melting plug, and heaved it out.

The outlet was black with smoke, and the plug was partially melted. A few minutes more and the wallpaper would have caught fire.

I opened the window, and got up for the day.

And the rest of the family, slept.

So, one more occasion of God's protecting grace. And since I'm not fighting a house fire this morning, I'll sit down and write about it. :)

God bless you all this day, and protect you from all the unseen dangers and perils of this world!

Absence...Makes the Heart Grow Fonder.

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

Much too quiet.

You see, last Thursday my whole family - minus myself - drove out the lane and down the road. A very long road. And they won't be driving back in the lane for another three weeks.

And - I don't believe it makes me one wit less a man to wholeheartedly admit this - I miss my family. In fact, I think I started missing them before they'd even left. (My mom almost made me tear up...)

(No pities, or condolences please - sometimes it's a good thing to feel lonely. :D)

Anyways, the life of a newly knighted bachelor... begin the escapades.

You know, I'd determined years ago I was going to skip that stage of life, but, well, at least this is only a taste and not a stage.

So I sat down at breakfast the next morning. At a long table with seven chairs around it. Six of them empty.

Munch, munch.

Clink. Tink

Tick tock, tick tock.

Munch munch munch.

Screech.

I pushed my chair back and walked over to the living room CD shelf.

Whaddya know, most of the good stuff went with the travelers.

So, shall I pick one of those ridiculously giddy Mozart flute concertos, or a gritty Handel harpsichord sonata, or...hey, here's a George Beverly Shea album...better choice.

For some reason, breakfast seems to take whole lot longer than usual. And for some reason, it just doesn't taste quite the same.

Well, just because my mother isn't here doesn't mean that I'm going to look like it, so today I commenced the task of washing my clothes. Laundry, they call it.

Now, I'm not a total neophyte in domestic duties, so I'd better prove it. Yes, I separated the colors and took everything out of the pockets. And yes they got washed and dried, as only a machine knows how.

But that's not all there is to laundry, of course. Once the clothing is back in my hands it must be made fit to wear. And believe it or not, I do know what that means. So I pulled out the ironing board, and plugged in the iron.

So, eventually, the result is presentable, and the tools get put away.

But for some reason, this takes a lot longer than when the experts do it. And for some reason, it doesn't quite look the same.

I fold the shirts up.

But for some reason, it takes so much longer. And for some reason, it doesn't look quite the same.

And then the phone rings. And it's my mom, of course.


"Hi Mom! How are you all doing?"


"Oh, good," she says, "But it just isn't the same without you".


So, I'll say it again. Yeah, I miss my family!

2008!

... is upon us.

Happy New Year!

Several hours ago, we crossed the line from 'the year of our Lord - two thousand and seven', into 'the year of our Lord - two thousand and eight'.

We've had one more year of blessings, of grace, of testings and tryings; one more year of opportunities, experiences, and conquered frontiers. And I know that I've received a portion of blessings of which I am profoundly undeserving - and a measure of grace which I cannot claim. I've been brought through dangers, toils, and snares - some of my own making, others of my own earning. 'Tis grace, my friends, that has brought us safe thus far - and grace will lead us home.

And most of all, we're one year closer to that day 'which no man knoweth, no, not the angels in heaven, neither the Son, but only the Father' when the Lord will return in clouds of glory, with all the holy angels with Him. Lord, haste the day, when our faith shall be made sight.

This, my friends, is reason to celebrate. Reason to give thanks and reason to rejoice, for we can enter this day, this year, and the days and years to come, with a great hope which others may not have, because it is truly 'the year of our Lord.'

May the Lord bless you abundantly. May He guide your steps and direct your paths. May He go before you as a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night. May He cause His face to shine upon, to protect and defend you, to keep you, and give you peace.


So rejoice! Give thanks! And celebrate the year of our Lord - Two Thousand and Eight! :D

Arise, Shine.

I slept in this morning. Meaning, I didn't set my alarm. And as I slowly came out of the realms of unconsciousness, like a submarine slowly rising, with the buoyancy point somewhere just beneath surface, and my mind began to assume it's waking order, it came back to me:

I was talking with someone, and another individual entered and handed me a paper with something printed on it, in bright red toner, in 26 point Courier Bold. I glanced down at it, and...wasn't impressed at first glance. But I scanned through it.

There was something odd about it.
I flipped it over, and to my horror, I saw my own name at the foot of the page.

shurly this is a miracle of gods grace. god is not only promising 2 perfect us, but all that concerns us thats rite every 1 of those unknowns every desire of the heart every perplexity and complexity all those variables all the obbstacles even all the ppl involved will be perfected according 2 gods promise & according 2 his will. and let me tell u if god can perfect me, if he is able 2 keep that i have committed 2 him, then i assure u that he can perfect u and he is able 2 keep n e thing that u can commit 2 him. if he can perfect that which concerneth me he can perfect that which concerneth every 1 of u. and if he can give me the desires of my hart he can due the same for n e 1 of u. but theres 1 thing that god will not perfect and that is whatever has not bin comitted 2 him.

I was astounded. I was amused. I was indignant. I was insulted. It was an assault on my character! How far has this been published! WHO is trying to purloin the message of the Word of GOD!


And then I woke up.

And I started laughing.



I got out of bed. It was 8:53AM. "What a way to start the day," I thought, "That's what I get for sleeping in this late".


Don't try it for real now. I might not get out of bed on the right side the next time.

Hitherto hath the Lord helped me

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills. From whence cometh my help? My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore. (Psalm 121:1-8)

It's been some time since I last posted anything here. In fact, it's been even longer since I actually wrote anything of more than minimal substance. I've been well occupied, however, and in recent weeks have been seeing more clearly than ever before that- 'Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.' (Psalm 127:1)

You see, I've grown up well familiar with the concept of manual labor. I've learned to work (hard sometimes), and I've learned to enjoy it (most of the time). But I'll be honest, nobody enjoys working just for the sake of working. Anyone, even of the most scrupulous work ethic, will soon grow weary of work without results. You see, we like to work because we like to get things done. If all our labors were exercises in futility, we would soon cease to enjoy those labors.

I enjoy getting things done. And the more effectively and efficiently my labors become accomplishments, the more 'effective' my enjoyment of the labor is. Don't get me wrong, I can even enjoy those tasks which require dogged determination and patient, persistent perseverance. But it has occurred to me, that quite honestly, if all my labors were in vain, and all my efforts were exercises in futility, then really, I'd be one weary young man.

So that's why today when I look at all the multiplied blessings, when I consider the 'accomplishments', every time I have the privilege of savoring a job well done, I am reminded that 'hitherto hath the Lord helped me'.

I am reminded that there is no strength that is my own. That there is no blessing that is of my own earning. There is in fact no accomplishment that is of my own labors. In total, without the Lord's blessing, and without the Lord's help, and without the Lord's keeping, my labors are in vain.

Hitherto hath the Lord helped me.

Scientist Seeks for the 'Mommy Gene'

Some people can get it so right, and yet so wrong.

For a comparison of perspectives, take the time and read the above article, and compare it with this speech by Theodore Roosevelt, just over a hundred years ago.

Lonnie Aarssen is right. The mommies will win. But not because of a particular gene that becomes dominant. They will win because they sacrificed a life of ease for a life of service. They will win because they fulfilled their God-given role instead spurning the primary laws of life. And all people, and all nations, will rise up at her coming, and call her blessed.