Although I am by no means accomplished in playing the guitar, I can actually bring pleasant sounds out of it. I am getting better at it. There is a true sense of accomplishment in bringing a tune out of that instrument. I'm proud and amazed that my fingers are learning and strengthening. Where once there were only plinkings and plunkings, now there is deliberate plucking in patterns that unfold in melodies and harmonies. Reading music and converting it into sound is like opening a surprise. I know it's something good, but I can't quite figure out what it is until I work through the strings and paper and lines and notes that hold it together. But when it does open up, I say, "Oh yes, I see now. Isn't it lovely!" Then, I want to turn it over in my hands, try it again, play with it. When it's time to put the guitar away, I think about what it will sound like when I work the strings and fingers and paper and memory again.

I find that reading Scripture is like reading music. It sometimes seems a big jumble until I work through it. Just reading the words doesn't always bring out the deeper tones and harmonies and meanings. It is when we "work" the Scripture into our lives and let it play out in our actions, that we can truly grasp how beautiful it is.

Prayer: Lord, You are good. Thank You that You reveal Yourself to us. Help us to be doers of Your Word that we might know You more. Amen.

I have been in a holding pattern for many months now, like an airplane that's awaiting the okay to take off. The only trouble is that I don't know where I'm supposed to go or what I'm supposed to do next. The control tower is silent. I rev my engines; I call in for feedback. I receive silence. I want to serve; I want to know what my ministry is, but the answer is silent. I find myself thinking that I must be doing something wrong. Maybe I haven't prayed hard enough. Maybe God is mad at me. Why isn't He responding to me? It is difficult for me to realize that silence is one way that the Lord says to me, "Wait." So, I cool my jets and put myself in park. But my attitude is not one of gratefulness and devotion. I am angry and dejected. Doesn't the Lord want me? Doesn't He know that there are only so many days and years in a life? My days are melting away, not counting for anything. But it is in the silence that I finally begin to hear Him again. I do not sense His direction, but I know His love. His love is what will guide me. He is more interested in my relationship with Him than in my service to Him.

One phrase I heard in church caught my attention: "Not ability but availability." In my idea of a ministry, I imagine putting forth a superhuman effort, a self-denial so pervasive that it takes all my strength, all my mind, all my soul, all my heart. I forget that this self-denial is not a sacrifice but a blessing. The Lord did not tell us to serve with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. He told us to love Him in that way. Service is an outpouring of love, not a matter of personal effort. It is not so much a matter of putting the self to death, but of receiving a better life. In meditating on this concept, other distortions in thought are brought to light:

Not Ability But Availability

Not grasping but receiving
Not doing but being
Not giving but releasing
Not claiming but believing
Not fearing but loving
Not worrying but caring
Not seeing but knowing
Not leaving but arriving
Not forcing but willing
Not searching but seeking
Not increasing but absorbing
Not trying but pleasing
Not winning but surrendering
Not achieving but blessing
Not boasting but praising
Not earning but receiving grace
Not working but exercising faith
Not dying but entering eternal life.

Prayer: Lord, please forgive me for thinking that it is my own effort that will bring about worthy service. I need You to correct my thinking. Help me, please, to love You. Let me be consumed with love for You. By Your Holy Spirit, let Your love be manifest to others through righteous acts which You have ordained for me to do. Thank You for allowing me a role in Your kingdom. Amen.

When I was a child, I used to like to play a game called King of the Hill. In this game, there would be a hill, and the person standing at the top of the hill was the "king". The object of the game was, of course, to be king. To get to stand at the top of the hill and be king, you had to run up the hill at full throttle and push off the current "king". Then your job was to defend your place as others ran up the hill trying to push you off the hill. My favourite part of the game wasn't so much being king of the hill; it was shoving off another kid. As many children's games are, this one was just a tad violent, and I think that's why I liked it. There's a certain thrill in the power of shoving. The only trouble is that I've carried this game over into my spiritual life.

This morning, in my prayer time, I was praying my "to do" list. My prayer went something like this: "Lord, please help me to ______" Or, "Lord, I need ______" You can fill in the blanks. Asking the Lord for help or to fill our needs is in His will. He wants us to make our requests known to Him. My problem was that I wanted to be king of my own hill, my own life, and to direct God in what He should do to serve me. I really hadn't thought about His being King of heaven and earth. All I was interested in was my own little realm of existence. I may think my "hill" is something special, and that my view from the top is far-reaching, but I need to remember Who has given me this hill.

God, I've noticed, doesn't engage in shoving. I think He is a master of nudge. He has never rushed at me, palms forward, to find my weak point and shove me off the top of my hill. He is a grown-up and a gentleman. He has often tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to step down; it is His place at the top of the hill. He is the true King, and I am merely an impostor.

I thank Him for standing at the top of my hill, for being King. He leans over and gently whispers, "It's My hill. Remember? You gave it to Me." I'm suddenly shamed as I realize that I had run at Him full throttle to try and shove Him off so that I could rule. He only rules by invitation and had stepped aside to let me imagine my own sovereignty. In the tone of my prayer, I made Him subject to my bidding rather than making myself His humble servant. I sense His forgiveness as He puts His arms around me and pulls me close to His heart. I look out over the mountains before me, and I'm so glad He's interested in little hills.

Prayer: Lord, please forgive me for wanting to rule my own life. Help me to trust You and to relinquish all control to You. Thank You for loving me enough to show me my stubborn pride, and thank You for Your forgiveness and acceptance. Amen.

I have locks on the doors in my house, both on interior doors that lead to bathrooms and bedrooms and exterior doors that lead to the outside. The only reasons that interior doors are locked are to ensure privacy or to hide a messy room. The exterior doors are locked when we are sleeping or not home.

My mind is also a dwelling place. I sometimes think of it as a series of doors. I want to keep all those doors open to Jesus, even the really messy ones. He's very respectful and doesn't barge in. I already invited Him in to my "home", so it's just the interior doors that I need to let Him open. Sometimes, I'm embarrassed by the mess: hidden sin, shame, approval addiction, fear. Some rooms are overwhelming, and I don't even want to walk past them. But my Saviour is able and willing, and actually wants to clean them out, fill them with freshness and light, and even love, so that those rooms are welcoming to Him and to me. He gets rid of all filth and rottenness.

Meanwhile, my mind has exterior doors. Sometimes, the enemy knocks. He is very persistent. As he knocks, he calls out over and over, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Sometimes, I've opened the door when he comes knocking. He is so mean! He even tries to get me to believe that he is God calling out, "I hate you!" I'm learning to ignore him when he knocks. I don't answer; I don't argue. I don't defend myself when he shouts out all the mistakes and sins and stupid things that I've said. I just ask Jesus to send him away. I remind myself of God's love letters to me that are collected in the Bible.

Sometimes the enemy is disguised, like the evil person who comes to the door in fairy tales. He will come in the form of gossip, edgy entertainment, envy, pride. What's so tricky is that these things are comfortable and seem like old friends. They can look like delicious, but poisoned, apples.

After we have opened our heart's door to Jesus, let's remember to keep our exterior doors locked and dead-bolted when the enemy comes calling. Eventually, he will ease up and go away for a while, and we can invite in real-life friends, even hurting friends, and show them some beautiful, fresh, inviting rooms that Jesus has cleaned out.

Prayer: Thank You Jesus! Thank You! Amen.

"Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was heeee …" I can remember singing this song in Sunday School. I loved that song because I was a little girl, and I knew what it felt like to be left out and overlooked in a world of adults.

Now that I am an adult, I imagine what it would be like if Jesus were coming to my town. Would I stay home to avoid the crowds, allowing my preference for quiet and comfort to overshadow the chance to see Jesus? Or, would I recognize the importance of the event — the very presence of Jesus — and gather myself to see Him?

I can imagine getting ready. I'd shower and put on nice clothes. I might even bring loaves and fishes just in case I could be part of a miracle. I might make a sign to hold and wave to capture His attention and show everyone that I believe in Him. I would think about Him stopping in front of me and smiling, looking into my eyes, and saying something loving and profoundly wise.

I could imagine myself jockeying for position at the front of the crowd, being assertive in order to gain a glimpse of Him. Then along comes Zacchaeus, the guy that ripped me off. No way was I going to let him get in front of me. Sure, I'd let children through so they can see, but not Zacchaeus! He did not deserve a front-row viewing.

A little while later, I see Jesus looking up into a tree. Jesus, about to speak. The crowd hushes in order to catch each word: "Zacchaeus … your house."

What?! Not fair! I mean, I know I'm not the best and brightest person Jesus could have picked to talk to, but Zacchaeus? The guy who is notorious for theft and dishonesty? That weasel? Jesus could have at least gone to a priest's or pastor's house or even a commoner's house, but honouring Zacchaeus?

At least Zacchaeus has the decency to repent, but he should have done that long before meeting Jesus …

As I think about Zacchaeus, I identify more with the crowd than with the wicked Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus knew he was a sinner. Upon meeting Jesus, he repented. Zacchaeus was desperate for Jesus. Zacchaeus knew he was hated by the crowd. Of all the people, all the hurts and needs and wishes and dreams and egos, Jesus sought out Zacchaeus, Zacchaeus, who knew he was a sinner, Zacchaeus, who did not make excuses, who did not tout himself as worthy of Jesus' attention, who did not try and disguise his true sinful nature, and who did not think of himself in false, glowing terms. Zacchaeus knew he was lost. Zacchaeus knew he needed a saviour.

Do I resent Jesus' goodness to others? Do I shake my head in disbelief when the death-row inmate professes faith in Christ? Do I think I am better than others, or do I recognize that sin is the common denominator of all mankind? Am I false with Jesus, presenting my good works instead of my heart? Do I try to clean myself up before coming to Him, or do I allow Him to know the real me, the me that needs His cleansing?

Prayer: Lord Jesus, thank You that You seek and save the lost. We are lost apart from You. Forgive us for thinking that we are better, just a little better than someone else. Forgive us for withholding from others the love and grace You have given to us. Please give us hearts like Yours, hearts to love the despised and rejected. Amen.

King David sinned with Bathsheba. The Bible story tells us that King David saw Bathsheba bathing, and he wanted her. So he summoned her and slept with her. When she became pregnant, he tried to cover things up. When that failed, he arranged to have her husband killed in battle.

I've always wondered about Bathsheba's role. The Bible doesn't tell us if she deliberately enticed David. Did she time and position her bath so that David would see her? Did she bathe in a provocative way? When David summoned her, was she flirtatious? Was she a schemer, wanting the power of the throne? Did she have any part in timing things so that she would get pregnant? Or was she an innocent victim at the mercy of a mighty king? Did she grieve for her dead husband?

If we knew the answers to these questions, would it change the story for us? Would it excuse David's sin, making it not so bad? When David repented, he blamed no one. He made no excuses. He never blamed Bathsheba or his own weakness. He never claimed to have had too much wine. He didn't blame God for making him a virile man. He didn't blame his upbringing or childhood deficits. He didn't say, "The devil made me do it." He said, simply, "Against You, You only, have I sinned." Does this mean that David did not sin against Bathsheba and her husband? I don't think that that's what it means. I think that David was recognizing the magnitude of his sin. There may have been variables that led to his sin, but it was ultimately David's choice to turn away from God and instead seek after his own flesh, his own desire. David had been a man after God's own heart, but for a time, David became a man after his own lust. Sin separated David from God. God did not leave David, but David left God. Was it worth it? Nope. David did the right thing later on. He confessed his sin. David, in his no-holds-barred repentance, returned to his relationship with God. What's amazing is that David remains an example to us on how to repent.

When I have sinned, do I point the finger at anyone else? Do I blame circumstances? Do I excuse the magnitude of what I've done? Do I lighten the burden of my sin by convincing myself that it's not so bad? If I do this, I am devaluing the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross for me. He didn't die to excuse my sin. He died to forgive my sin. When I turn my back on Him to go after my own desires, do I make light of that choice? Sin is serious because sin separates us from God.

Grace is God loving us and giving us His favour even though we don't deserve it. Why does He give us grace? Because He is love. Let us love Him back with full repentance, because He is worth it.

Prayer: Lord, help us to repent completely, to realize fully the magnitude of sin, not so that we remain in sorrow and shame, but so that we can dwell in You and in Your truth. Help us not to excuse our sin. When we are tempted, help us to remember that we want You more. Amen.

I am middle-aged. I used to be slender. Now I am becoming more shapely — box-shaped, that is. I want to get back to the figure I had when I was twenty years old and felt confident walking down the beach. So, I try to eat more fruits and vegetables, go for walks, and avoid evening snacks. I've read several diet and exercise books and have a basic idea of what I need to do to stay healthy. Still, if I'm honest with myself, I just want to fit into my single-digit-sized jeans again!

Strains of To dream the impossible dream … go through my head. Photos of attractive, young, flat-waisted women abound in advertising, compounding the "I'm not good enough" syndrome. I feel like I'm a marked-down, sale-rack, looked-over dress, not the mannequin-worthy, expensive, sought-after, exclusive dress.

Still, I try to do little things to keep those scale digits steady or in decline. It's hard work.

However, I went on vacation for three days. While on vacation, I drank soda and ate French fries, cheesy snacks, chocolates, toaster pastries, even peanut butter and jelly on white bread (ooh, shivers). I ventured into the forbidden.

When I returned home and it was time for a meal, I had a salad and a glass of water. That salad was so good! The water actually quenched my thirst. I considered dessert (sugary stuff), but found that I didn't want it. I had another salad instead. I ate the healthy food because, over time, I'd developed a taste for it. The Lord had helped me to want what is good for me. On vacation, I thought that I would treat myself to whatever food I craved — and I did. I learned, however, that after a day or two of initial indulgence, I didn't feel satisfied. I felt gross. When I lifted all limiters, I was not truly giving myself a treat. I was giving myself something false — emptiness. How ironic that what was supposed to feed me and fill me did not serve my nutritional needs. Those quickly-absorbed calories were enjoyable for a few minutes, but they left me wanting. It's like I couldn't get enough.

I have a friend who is a recovering alcoholic. She said, "One is never enough; a hundred is never too many." I know what she means.

I might joke about food issues, but sin is like junk food. It looks so good; it calls to us. It's everywhere, on billboards, in stores, even in our homes: on television, in books, on the computer. It does not satisfy. It leads to death. Will-power fails. Resolutions evaporate. Plans go awry. Formulae don't work. How, then, do we battle against sin, against the power our flesh has over our best efforts?

We absolutely cannot rely upon ourselves — trust me, I know! Who can help us? Jesus. Trust Him. He knows the number of hairs on our heads. He created us. His thoughts toward us are precious. When we respond to Him in love, the sin battle fades. It is the power of His love that gives us strength. It is His love that satisfies. And when we mess up, "treat" ourselves to sin, He still wants us back right away. Sin separates us from God. When we want closeness with Him more than the false, instant gratification that this world offers, then sin loses its pull on us.

To Jesus, I'm not a marked-down, looked-over, tatty sale-item. I am costly and beautiful, purchased by Him with His own blood. He has clothed me in His righteousness. I am loved — and so are you!

Prayer: Thank You, Jesus, that You understand everything, every battle, every thought. Thank You that You are intimately acquainted with all our ways. Please help us to want You more than anything, more than any sin. You are so worth it. Amen.