Seeking God in difficult times.

1 Peter 4:15 - 19

" If you’re abused because of Christ, count yourself fortunate. It’s the Spirit of God and his glory in you that brought you to the notice of others. If they’re on you because you broke the law or disturbed the peace, that’s a different matter. But if it’s because you’re a Christian, don’t give it a second thought. Be proud of the distinguished status reflected in that name!...
So if you find life difficult because you’re doing what God said, take it in stride. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing, and he’ll keep on doing it."

"God will bless you, if you don't give up when your faith is being tested. He will reward you with a glorious life, just as he rewards everyone who loves him."

When I am abused...and I haven't done anything bad...it is because of Christ.

I can pray.

When my faith is tested...and I am tempted to give up, give in...

I can pray.

When I find life difficult...and I feel far from God...

I can pray.

It all comes back to Jesus.

Bonnie Gray talks about How to Pray Even When You Don't Feel Like It: “Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” K. Chesterton 

To pray. To draw close to God. To get up 'while it is still dark and go to a solitary place'.

To cling to Him, like Jacob, and be blessed.

Esther saves the people!

It wasn't over yet. Haman had been killed for his plot to kill all the Jews and Esther had been given his estates, with Mordecai in charge of them. Not only that, but the king had reclaimed his signet ring from Haman and given it to Mordecai.

But the Jews were still not safe, because a royal edict had already been written, sealed and distributed. The order to massacre still stood.

Esther still had work to do: she threw herself at the king's feet and begged him for the lives of her people.

So:" So the king’s secretaries were brought in on the twenty-third day of the third month, the month of Sivan, and the order regarding the Jews was written word for word as Mordecai dictated and was addressed to the satraps, governors, and officials of the provinces from India to Ethiopia, 127 provinces in all, to each province in its own script and each people in their own language, including the Jews in their script and language."
Esther 8:1 - 10

for in a mirror dimly March 29th 2013

 I was able to guest post a couple of months ago over at inamirrordimly...

"Micah 6:8 is a constant challenge. To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly. Boy, that’s a tall order.

I know I don’t walk humbly when my hackles rise anytime someone corrects me.

I know I don’t ‘love’ mercy. I’m too big on ‘fairness’ to be as merciful as I would like to be. I’m a teacher, big on ‘consequences’ and ‘fair play’. After all, if you let kids off a punishment, how will they learn? I’m trying to ‘love mercy’ more, though. I try to be kind, really kind, more than I used to. So there is some hope there for a Better Me.

But I know I don’t ‘do’ justly when it comes to being more involved. I don’t march in protest against injustice. I don’t write letters for Amnesty International. I’m not even involved with our local, for very low-key offenders, prison.

Yet, there IS one thing I do.

Many years ago – pre-best friend boyfriend, pre-fiance, pre-husband, pre-children – I volunteered as a teacher in western Kenya.

Because it didn’t seem ‘just, right or fair’ that I, born in the privileged West to comfortably off (albeit still at times slightly struggling) middle-class parents, should have so much.

So much (relatively speaking) money.

So many opportunities.

So much education.

So I signed up as a volunteer, working in a run-down local school, earning a local teacher’s salary.

It was enough to put food on the table and, with careful housekeeping, afford travel on the (very cheap but dangerous) public transport to visit other volunteers and rent a small house (read ‘run down cottage’) at the coast for a week’s holiday. I felt it was ‘fair’ – on a par with the other, local, teachers. Like the young Francis of Assissi, I was aware of my privileged upbringing but at least, for a time, I earned just the same as my colleagues.

I did my best to help the students I taught to climb up the education ladder. To share what I had been given with those who hadn’t had the same opportunities, who life had treated more unfairly. I did my best to ‘do justly’.

Then I met my soon-to-be husband. We married. We carried on living in Kenya. Amid gross injustice, where so many were hungry and thirsty; homeless; sick, unable to afford good medical care; lacking in clothes – and education.

Oh, how I tried to ‘do justly’ without becoming a patronising, bottomless purse. I rarely gave money to the people who came to my gate EVERY DAY, asking for handouts. I offered work – usually refused. (In the first year in a new house on a busy road in the city, TWO people accepted the simple jobs – a couple of hours work – I offered for a day’s pay. And one of those was drunk. The other, an elderly lady, then accepted a permanent job, staying a couple of years.)

I tried to treat the people who worked for us fairly. I think I succeeded. (Our housekeeper cried inconsolably when we left and she is still a good friend. I bless God for the creativity of those clever minds which invented email and mobile phones.)

But then we moved back to the West. To a ‘fair’ society. Where justice was usually done – or seen to be done. Where material needs, at least, were fewer.

‘Doing justly’ became different. I translated it to treating my own children fairly. To being a ‘fair’ teacher, not having favourites among the children in my class. To being friends with all my colleagues, regardless of where they were in the pecking order: I treated the caretaker and cleaners the same as the head. To being ‘fair’ and honest in all my dealings with others.

It wasn’t enough.

Then I met Sue. A doctor. She had volunteered in Tanzania for a couple of months and then, just ten years ago, started a fund to help AIDS widows and orphans.

She started caring for one child.

Now she is responsible for more than twenty thousand children, nearly seven thousand of them in secondary school. Children getting life changing chances. Getting justice – because it is not just, or fair, or right, that they should be denied education because of an accident of birth. As Sue says: “There is a mountain of injustice which sees these children dressed in rags...their only set of clothes, unable to access education, drinking dirty water and too often going to their rest at night having had no food that day: when we think of the very different way children live in our countries and how much waste we throw away, when they have nothing, we become very aware of the injustice that is disabling these children. “

Feeding, clothing and sending so many children to school takes a lot of faith. And money.

So I do my little bit for justice.

I persuaded the school I teach in to ‘adopt’ the fund as their school charity. I organise fundraising events, encouraging the children to consider how they can help other children who do not have the same privileges.

The money we raise has built houses, fed and clothed and sent many children to school. We have ‘done justly’.

It’s not enough. It can never be enough. But it is what we do."

I pray that I may have eyes opened and a heart willing to do more.

For more inspiration, go to http://www.40acts.org.uk/ for many ideas about doing justly by living generously.

An unjust Friday

Today, I am proud to say I am posting SOMEWHERE ELSE!  A few months ago Ed over at inamirrordimly.com invited guests to post on the subject of 'doing justice'.  Click here to read it.

Ed is a real writer. He writes books and articles.
I write sporadically. For me. When I have time. 

Somehow, I found myself writing a few words and submitting them.
'Fine,' said Ed - or words to that effect. He was very gracious. He didn't even know me.
'Sign up,' said Ed. So I did.
  
March 29th was the next available slot, so I duly filled in the details, stored my little piece carefully away, and wrote a note on my calendar to remind me a couple of days before.
BUT...

March 29th is now today. Good Friday. A 'God Free' Day, when the world turned black, anguish reigned and it seemed - oh, how it seemed - that God had turned his back on the best man who ever lived.

A day of injustice.

A day when I am trying to write about Micah 6:8: "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, and to love kindness and mercy, and to humble yourself and walk humbly with your God?" (The Amplified Bible)

As I ponder the terrible events of that day, I recognise that all my little heaps of trying to act justly, or being kind, are nothing compared to the perfection and sacrifice that is Jesus. For we are reminded that "... Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." 
"This is how we’ve come to understand and experience love: Christ sacrificed his life for us." (Ephesians 5:2, 1 John 3:16)

There seems no 'justice' in that sacrifice. 

How can I dare to write on such a day as this?  Because it IS a GOOD day. The day that God showed us once and for all how much we matter to him. "But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ." (Ephesians 2:13, NIV)

I am indeed truly humbled.

'Doing Justice'

Sparked off by Ed's discussion at In a Mirror Dimly, Micah 6:8 hits me with a sledge hammer. ‘But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbour, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously - take God seriously.’

At first glance, my life doesn’t have much ‘seeing that justice is done’. Not in terms of Matthew 25:37 – 46 which convicts me further: “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’”
And as we know, Jesus then states very clearly
“ I was hungry and you gave me no meal,
I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,
I was homeless and you gave me no bed,
I was shivering and you gave me no clothes,
Sick and in prison, and you never visited. ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you failed to do one of these things to someone who was being overlooked or ignored, that was me—you failed to do it to me.’ (The Message)

There is no limit to the needs of our world. There are always hungry people; places where thirst is perpetual; homelessness across the globe; poorly clad children – and adults; the sick suffering in isolation; those who have fallen foul of the law.

And so I justify my behaviour.
I say “Jesus said we will always have the poor with us.”
I say:”I work full time in a demanding job.”
I say: “The needs are so great, and I am so small and insignificant.”
All excuses and lies.
There is ALWAYS something I CAN do. It may not be as big as I would like. I may not be able to be as generous – with time, money or emotion – as I would like. But whatever I do, however little, WILL make a difference. To someone. To some situation. To my neighbour.

So I support those whose work is with the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the prisoners. I give to mission, to charities. I donate clothes and unwanted items to the Salvation Army, to charity hospice shops. I visit sick friends. I write cards of encouragement.

I try. Still...
It is all comfortable. Not convenient – absorbed as I am with my job, I struggle to remember to do these ‘extra’ things – but comfortable.

So I struggle with guilt. With the ‘shoulds’ and ‘oughts’.
And perhaps that is good. Perhaps I should always be struggling with comfortable vs uncomfortable. Because I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jesus has told his parable regarding talents immediately before he speaks about the final judgement.

Is the key, perhaps, that I use what God has given me? All of it? Jesus gave all he had for me, and all I have comes from him, so withholding any of what he has given me is just WRONG.

So I aim to give generously – until it begins to hurt – rather than focus on saving my money for a rainy day;
I will use my time freely for others, rather than jealously guarding it;
I can look for someone being overlooked or ignored rather than cultivating ONLY my friendships.
I will share my home, responding to those who may need somewhere to be for a while.
I go to visit someone who is sick, rather than just sending them a get well card.

All of this is still within my own sphere. I haven’t yet visited someone in prison – I have never met anyone who has been in prison. So it is now that I am thinking about how, to REALLY do what is ‘fair and just to my neighbour’. Because my neighbour, as Jesus made clear in the parable he told about a man saving the life of his sworn enemy, is ANYONE I MEET. And, perhaps, I need to put myself in the way of meeting others. That might mean volunteering with one of the local welfare programs or joining a particular ministry such as prison visiting.

Whatever happens, I pray to keep my heart open to the needs of my neighbour. So that I CAN “see that justice is done, let mercy be my first concern, and humbly obey my God.”

Amen.