Playing with Father

God asked me to come out and play.

Naomi and I went to the Earth Exchange thrift store to look for a costume for her for the Fall Frolic Halloween alternative at our church. As I was scanning the clothing racks for something for her, I ran across a black shirt jacket with the head of a leopard painted on it and leopard pattern trim on the sleeves and collar. I showed it to Naomi. “You could be a leopard tamer,” I said. Naomi dismissed the idea, so I put the shirt back. I kept suggesting other ideas to Naomi, and she kept suggesting other ideas for me. When we had exhausted every possibility for Naomi, she insisted that I find a costume for myself. I went back to the leopard shirt. “I could be a leopard tamer,” I said.

We proceeded to look for other pieces to complete the leopard tamer outfit. There were some long pants that I had ruled out because they were size 2, but Naomi encouraged me to try them on. Naomi found a black t-shirt with the appliqué of Mickey Mouse in a leopard pattern. I said, “That’s great! It means I can turn a leopard into a mouse!” The pants fit (surprise!) except they were way too long. That’s when Naomi presented me with some amazing black platform shoes. They were a little too large, but they added three inches to my height! Naomi then found some black clip-on earrings, and I found a black stocking cap and a black water bottle holder in which I could place Isaac’s whip. To my surprise and delight, I was outfitted in a costume that was so unlike my “real” persona that it was sure to make anyone who knew me smile at the irony.

At the beginning of the evening, I had the opportunity to have my nails painted, something I seldom do. One of the junior high girls who was volunteering at the nail-painting station was wearing orange nail polish with black spots. I asked her to paint mine the same way. Now with my earrings, heels, and nail polish, I was fully accessorized.

Wearing the outfit for four hours affected me. I felt unusually tall, feminine, confident, and capable. Whenever I met a little kitten or leopard, I asked if she wanted to be tamed by me. They all refused! Nevertheless, I knew that if I were a real leopard tamer and they were real leopards, it wouldn’t be up to them. The leopard tamer is the one who calls the shots.

At the end of the evening, I had a new appreciation of my own strength and femininity. I understood that strength and femininity need not be in opposition. In fact, they complement and enhance each other. It was a healing revelation I desperately needed right now. How mischievous for God to teach me so playfully! Thanks, Father. I’ll play with you any time!

The Father's Lament

My kids don’t appreciate what I provide for them.
They don’t acknowledge the hardship I went through to be able to provide for them.
They want to take advantage of everything I’ve provided for them by having fun, playing, and pursuing their own goals and interests.

My kids tread on me and squander my provision.
They don’t recognize the sacrifices I’ve made.
They treat me like a second-class citizen.

My kids don’t like what I like.
They don’t spend time with me.
They are lazy and selfish.

My kids don’t include me in their plans.
They don’t seek my counsel.
They don’t listen to me.

My kids don’t honor or respect me.
They won’t make the sacrifice to do something they don’t like to do just to show me how much they love me.
They don’t try to build a relationship with me.

Thanks for listening to my complaints.

Signed,

God the Father

“Favor? What’s Favor, Precious?”

One of my favorite Bible teachers talks frequently about the concept of “favor.” And one of my favorite brothers-in-law greets me by telling me that I’m “blessed and highly favored.”

I’ve been thinking more about favor this summer because I’ve experienced it in a way that I never have before, or at least in a way I never noticed before. On three occasions this summer, I have made a mistake, and God has used it to produce something good. I imagine that my mistakes give my guardian angel(s) some fun by challenging them to make something good out of something “stupid.” Or maybe they have a hand in helping me make those “mistakes” so that God’s purposes can be served. That may sound weird or heretical, but consider this instance.

In June, I was administering standardized tests to two of my home-schooled children. The first test I administered was the vocabulary test to my sixth grade daughter. Nothing unusual. I’ve been doing it for years, and I knew the routine well. My daughter completed the test with no problem, finishing early. But when the time came to administer the second test, I found that my daughter’s answer sheet was inside my ninth grade son’s test booklet. How did that happen? It turns out I had administered the ninth grade vocabulary test to my sixth grade daughter! Oops! I had never done that before. And I wasn’t relishing my daughter’s reaction to having to take the vocabulary test again.

Curiously, however, I recalled that my daughter had not complained about the test, and that she had finished early. When I told her she had taken the ninth grade test, she assured me that it really hadn’t been that hard. She asked me to score it. I was amazed at how well she had done, getting only a few answers wrong. As I relayed to her how well she had done on a test that was three years ahead of her, she beamed. And I realized what God was up to. My daughter suffers from a needless lack of confidence, and now she had proof that she was smart. She approached the rest of her tests with greater confidence than she would have otherwise, and she scored higher on everything than she has for the last couple of years.

I’m left wondering: Did my angel (or my daughter’s angel) distract me at a key moment when I was selecting her test, or did one of them slip the ninth grade test into my hand while the other one clouded my eyes? Or did God simply take a natural mistake of mine (that I’ve never made in ten years of administering such tests) and make it better?

However it happened, it represents God’s favor toward me and my daughter in action.

“Remember me, O Lord, with the favor You have toward Your people. Oh visit me with Your salvation, that I may see the benefit of Your chosen ones, that I may rejoice in the gladness of Your nation, that I may glory with Your inheritance” (Psalm 106:4-5).

Oh yeah. It’s good to be His.

Re-parenting and Seal Nazis, Part II

(Continued from Part I, below)

As we reached the beach, I saw that the area was roped off with a single yellow nylon cord. A city ordinance sign served as one of the posts holding the cord. The sign said something like: “San Diego city ordinance designates this area as a beach open to the public. Please respect the natural wildlife of the area. This beach does not meet water quality safety standards.”

Seeing the sign, I saw that Gunter’s interpretation was correct, so I began to slowly and cautiously approach the seals. I ducked under the yellow nylon cord. As soon as I did so, I heard catcalls from up above saying, “Get away from the seals! Ma’am! Get away from the seals!” Having been forewarned, I ignored the harassment.

To see the seals up close with their cute little pups was a treat, but the annoying calls continued from above as I inched slowly toward them. Now the seals started looking at me, and started inching backward. I saw they would not let me move any closer. One seal entered the water, and I headed back toward Gunter. The other seals followed the first one, and I felt the disapproval of the onlookers as their observation opportunity swam away.

Gunter and I walked back up the stairs, and I confess, I was slightly embarrassed. No one really paid any attention to me, however; I wasn’t approached by an angry mob at all. We continued our stroll, and a few yards beyond the steps we saw a booth set up by the “Save Our Seals” group. We were cutting a wide swath around the booth, but the young woman who was selling t-shirts and stuffed seals there had her eye on me. “Ma’am! Ma’am! Could I talk to you?”

Reluctantly I approached the booth, and the young activist proceeded to lecture me. “Ma’am, did you hear me telling you to stay away from the seals?”

“Yes, but the sign says it’s a public beach.”

“I had to report you because you didn’t listen to me. Flushing seals is against the law.”

Gunter and the woman then entered into a debate about who has the right to the beach, and after a few exchanges, we walked on. We joked about how my husband would feel about having to come to San Diego to bail me out of jail for seal flushing. And how I would feel returning to Minnesota branded as an ignominious seal-flusher.

It wasn’t until I was back in Minnesota about a week later and I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. That doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I find the Lord may want to “do business” with me. So I began praying about an issue that had come up for me in something I’d been reading. I knew I had shame issues to bring to the Lord. As soon as I started talking to Him about my shame, He turned the light on. That’s what the seal Nazi incident had been all about.

Jesus warned us that the enemy comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. Even for the believer, he attempts to steal our identity, kill our confidence, and thereby destroy our effectiveness for Kingdom work. The Bible is very clear about who I am in Christ. The sign is plainly posted in Colossians 2:13-14: “Having forgiven you all trespasses, blotting out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross.”

We have complete freedom, but our shame holds us back. Our shame is nothing but a single yellow nylon cord, easily crossed, but we dare not do so. Why? Because as soon as we do, the catcalls from the enemy, the world’s most experienced “activist,” begin. “That’s not allowed! You can’t do that! You will be reported!” Predictably, we believe the empty threats of the enemy rather than the clear Word that has been posted for us. Crowds of people hold themselves back for every one who breaks through. And territory designated for the Kingdom remains unclaimed.

How good of the Father to guide me along my own personal field trip on the shore of the Pacific Ocean (“ocean of peace”) to teach me this lesson! My Father must really love me.

Re-parenting and Seal Nazis, Part I

Last March I traveled to San Diego to visit with my two sisters. It turned out to be a weekend in which I experienced God’s gentle re-parenting in a way I seldom have before.

From the moment my two sisters and brother-in-law Gunter met me at the airport, the tone was set. Gunter greeted me with, “You are in such good shape! You looked like a little girl coming down the escalator.” From then on, Gunter, who is about 20 years older than I, assumed a fatherly role toward me, introducing me at restaurants and elsewhere as his “daughter” (while at the same time trying to obtain “senior discounts” for me!).

My own dad has been in Heaven for more than eight years. He wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but there was never a doubt in my mind that I occupied a very special place in his heart. When he looked at me and spoke to me, I could sense that he liked me for who I am and that he was glad I was in the world. In recent years as I have seen the devastating effects produced when fathers don’t communicate those feelings to their children, I appreciate my dad more.

Gunter continued to stand in for my dad that weekend. He took us to an arboretum, causing me to recall the many outings my dad and I took to the Como Park conservatory and, after he moved to Texas, to southern public gardens. I can hardly look at a flower or read a placard of the name of a tree or bush without recalling my dad’s love of botany.

Later he led us on a guided tour along the rough, rocky shore of the Pacific at La Jolla. Picking our way around the tide pools, I felt like I was following my dad along the North Shore of Lake Superior, one of his favorite getaway spots.

As we approached a small inlet, Gunter warned, “Watch out for the ‘Seal Nazis.’” He gave us the background of the local controversy over whether seal or human offspring should have the right to use this little bay: A wealthy heiress donated the beachfront property to the city of San Diego, constructing a breaker to protect the area, and designating it for use as a children’s swimming beach. Environmental activists, however, seeing that seals liked the area, too, particularly during pupping season, lobbied to keep humans away. The latest court battle found in favor of humans since it is hard to deny the explicit purpose for which the land was donated to the city. The “Seal Nazis,” however, had no intention of giving up their cause so easily.

Now, as we overlooked the beach from an observation area above, we saw no little humans frolicking in the surf. Instead, about a dozen seals with their pups crowded the shore, basking in the sun next to the water. It was an amazing sight. People were lined up along a guardrail next to us watching the seals, and across the way the top of the breakwater was full of observers, as well. There were steps going down to the beach, and I asked Gunter if we could go down there. He said that, yes, it was allowed and perfectly legal. So I said, “Let’s go.” Gunter and I started walking down; my sisters stayed behind.
(continued: see Part II above!)

Real-Life Parables

About a year ago I became aware that God was communicating to me through real-life incidents that had symbolic meaning. I was so excited about this novel concept that I started keeping a log of these incidents and their meanings, hoping to write a book someday.

Then, wouldn't you know it, I was hanging out on the Aslan's Place website and saw that the book has already been written! It's called, If This Were a Dream, What Would It Mean? The author, Murray Dueck, explains how everyday events can have spiritual meaning. The examples he gives, especially of symbolic events involving England's royal family and India's Parliament, are fascinating. Even though it meant my idea was not original, I enjoyed the confirmation the book provided that God does, indeed, communicate through symbolic incidents which I like to call real-life parables.

Here's an example of one of the first ones I noticed.

It was about 2 a.m. and my husband jumped out of bed in alarm. He was certain he had heard someone come in the front door. He called warnings down the stairs. After checking to make sure our children were accounted for, he made his way downstairs, weapon in hand. In my state of grogginess, I refused to acknowledge that there was any real threat. I knew I had locked the front door before going to bed, and anyone coming in that way would have set off the security system. Eventually he came back to bed, confident that no one had entered the house after all. I remember thinking, as I fell back to sleep, that it was a very strange incident, particularly because my husband was so convinced he had heard someone at the front door.

The next night my daughter had a sleep-over birthday party with about eight of her elementary aged girlfriends. They all slept in the living room, and I went to bed long before they did. That's why I was surprised when, at 5:30, which was my usual rising time, I came downstairs to find several of the girls already awake. It seems they hadn't slept much all night. First a couple of them had seen what they thought was a coyote prowling right by the house. Then some of the girls heard the door knob on the front door turn. They thought they may have seen the form of someone on the front step. Although mass hallucinations at 10-year-old girls' slumber parties are probably not unusual, the girls seemed unusually staunch in their beliefs of what they saw. Even when I grilled one-on-one some of the girls who I felt were more reliable, they did not back down on their story or admit that it could have been their imaginations. Even so, I wouldn't have given it too much thought. But the fact that it happened the very next night after my husband's mysterious nocturnal hallucination gave me pause.

After the girls had all been picked up by their parents, I settled into a quiet morning. In fact, it was too quiet. The phone hadn't rung all day. Sure enough, I found out that the phones were not working. My first thought was that a sinister prowler had cut our phone lines like always happens in the movies. But I learned from the phone company that about ten homes in the area were affected. Another odd situation. We had never lost phone service randomly like that before, and we never have since.

On my prayer walk that day, I pondered these events. I thought it could be a picture of spiritual warfare. The devil was trying to gain access to our family, but he was not succeeding. I felt that the Lord was telling me that our boundaries were secure.

Then about 4 p.m. I received a phone call from my bank. A banker advised me that all my bank accounts, including my checking, savings, and credit card accounts needed to be closed. It turns out that someone from Kazakstan had tapped into the bank's computers and had viewed my account. Although he hadn't accessed any funds, the bank expected that his plan would be to return to withdraw money from my account very soon.

So that's what the odd events of the last two nights were about! They were warnings that someone was trying to access our financial accounts. And the telephone outage was to show that it was an electronic attack, so to speak.

But did that mean my original interpretation that I felt God had given me (about the spiritual warfare) wasn't accurate? Actually, I felt both interpretations could co-exist. They weren't contradictory. In fact, the Kazakstan incident was consistent with the front door incidents. The hacker had rattled the door knob and peeked in the window, but hadn't taken anything. The bank had caught the problem in time; our electronic boundaries had held.

That picture of spiritual warfare has been very comforting to me over the past year. I have felt under attack by the enemy at times. And while I can say he hasn't taken anything of true value from me, he has caused a great deal of stress and hassle. Having to close all my accounts and re-open them turned out to be a much bigger job than I had anticipated. I had to set up all my auto drafts again, and some of them became problematic, taking months to actually resolve. So, while the devil hasn't won any true spiritual victory over me, he has probably wasted my time and made me less effective than I could have been without his interference!

I am so glad Jesus is praying for me. According to I John 2:1, Jesus speaks to the Father in my defense. I suppose it is similar to what he said to Simon Peter in Luke 22:31-32: "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers."

And I'm thankful that God gave me those interesting pictures that helped clarify the spiritual realm for me.