Month: October 2024

Posted in Thoughts from Kids

Giving Life

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’m struggling to find words. Not ideas. Just the words to share those ideas in a way that is kind and loving and not grumpy or angry. I’ve written and rewritten. Edited and tweaked. Debated.

You see, I have a component to my personality that can sometimes be beneficial, but other times it’s a bit of a nuisance. I can easily see multiple perspectives of a story. I can understand, and even empathize with, two sides of an argument — yes, even when my own opinions fall heavily on one side or the other. While I can’t always envision how our actions and words will ripple into the future (my husband is a genius at that!), I can see multiple responses to situations happening in the moment. And in this moment, that vision is breaking my heart. And I want to share it so other people can understand. But can I? Here’s my attempt, feeble though it may be.

We’re heading into the time of year when stories of generosity will flood our media. We’ll be drawn to the heartwarming tales of people whose lives were impacted by extravagant gifts as well as to the people or organizations that make those gifts happen.

We as Christians love to not only hear these stories but to also find a way to be a part of these stories. We want to show how we are being the generous hands and feet of Jesus. On the one hand, it’s not a bad thing to be active participants in these stories. But there’s another side to this tale that we also need to consider, and that’s the side of the everyday people who are watching as we broadly and boldly declare our generous acts for all to see.

We need to consider the grocery store cashier or restaurant server who is hoping and begging for enough hours to simply pay their bills. They have no clue how they’ll go beyond that and be able to give gifts to their loved ones. But, they watch as the church crowd floods their workplaces, still dressed in our Sunday best and talking about the sweet time we had blessing gifts to be sent out to the uttermost parts of the world. But, even as we talk about our own generosity, we’ve already turned off our Christ-like attitudes to the people serving us. We are rude. We are demanding. And we are the opposite of generous. They watch as we come into their stores or to their teller windows harried and grumpy. They deliver our packages or take our customer service complaints. We end up taking out our frustration on them because they are…there. They’re just faces waiting to meet our needs or voices on the other end of the phone call to hear our complaints. It’s not that we’d ever admit to seeing them as sub-human. It’s just that we don’t stop and think of them as individuals with their own joys and hurts and struggles and passions. They’re just there to take care of our immediate needs, and then we move on and they keep on. As a result, we’re not careful with how we handle their hearts.

The thing is, they see us. They hear our conversations and see the news flashes about how we’ve delivered Thanksgiving meals to the poor, packed Christmas shoe boxes, fulfilled Angel Tree wishes, and more. They see how we broadcast our giving. They see the pretties we put on picture-perfect social media. The stories that go up in shining lights because they make us feel good. (Matthew 6 kind of punches me in the gut right here.) But then they feel the brunt of our reality. Our harried lives. Our stresses and strains. Our hurts that twist our actions. All of which we end up taking out on them.

It’s may not be intentional on our part. It’s just…life.

But maybe that’s my point. My heart is aching because of the way we live life. It’s aching because we are so concerned that other people know we’re participating in the socially acceptable modes of alms-giving that it distracts us from the act of giving life to others. Because what better gift could there be?

And yet, in many cases, we’re giving the opposite. We’re giving hopelessness. We’re removing the chance for so many people to see the goodness of God because we’re focused on our heartwarming stories instead of on speaking love into their everyday stories of hurt. They don’t see God’s goodness lavished on them. They just see that they’re not worthy of it. They perceive that God only wants to give when it makes for a good story, and they’ll never be a good enough story.

Ouch.

I’m not saying that we should stop our generosity. When we are able to give gifts this time of year, they do make a difference, as they do when we help meet needs of teachers and students at the beginning of a school year or take action to help alleviate the massive food insecurity that exists right around us.

But I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we would put more energy into daily life-giving than into making sure our community knows what kind of gift-giving we’ve chosen this year. What would happen if we were to bestow kindness upon the store clerk who rings up the gifts we’re purchasing? What would happen if we were able to deliver a Thanksgiving meal without making the recipient feel the shame that comes from needing it in the first place?

What if instead of trying to engage in elaborate, life-changing events, we were to change the way we live our daily lives? Could it be that we wouldn’t need the elaborate because the daily, mundane activities would make the difference? It would be without fanfare. It might not even make for a feel-good story to share. But it could give life. What better gift exists?

Posted in Marriage

Pruning or Chopping?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

This is another old post that I’m republishing. I’ll say more about it at the end.

I’ve always loved hydrangeas. They fascinate me. I’m typically not a flower gal. I’m not great at keeping plants alive anyway, and as pretty as flowers are, I just don’t have what it takes to maintain them.

Black irises and hydrangeas are the exception. Black irises grew wild in Jordan, and we would go on wild flower hunting trips every spring, coming home with trunks full of irises and poppies. So, although I have not yet managed to get mine to bloom, I’m still determined to successfully grow and tend black irises.

Hydrangeas are another story completely. They fascinate me because of their color. So many little things can affect the appearance of the flower – sometimes with multiple colors growing on a single bush! I’ve always wanted to try to grow hydrangeas, but have just never gotten around to it.

Needless to say, I was quite excited to discover two large hydrangea bushes in the back yard of our new house.

The only problem with the bushes was that they’d been untended for quite some time. For a couple of months, we tried to just trim out dead branches, tackle the weeds and vines, and help the bushes thrive again.

But, ultimately, we had to give up. Over the weekend, we realized that all we could do was cut down the bushes and plan to start from scratch.

It was so sad. But, the more we worked, the more we saw that the problem was too big to tackle any other way. Parasitic vines had wound their roots all around the bushes. So many dead branches protruded from one bush that it was hard to find the source of the live branches. And weeds we couldn’t even begin to see before we chopped began to reveal themselves.

We also discovered that it wasn’t just two bushes. Four bushes – two large and two small – were actually planted there. The small ones were so overwhelmed by the larger ones and the weeds that they could hardly grow – and definitely could not grow straight!

Yes, the destruction was necessary.

I’ve heard that hydrangea bushes will regrow after a couple of years. Maybe these will survive. Maybe they won’t. But they’d gotten to the point that they could no longer be maintained as they were.

Are we careful to keep our marriages from reaching that point?

We tend the growth, but do we make sure to actively work against the harmful things? Do we trim out dead branches of anger, bitterness, frustration, and dissatisfaction? Do we actively combat the weeds of distraction, disillusionment, and temptation? Or do we just try to nourish the good and ignore everything else?

Marriages, like plants, must be tended. And they cannot be tended in a tunnel-visioned manner. We have to actively combat the negative as strongly as we nourish the beautiful. We can’t ignore it. We can’t hide it. We have to deal with it.

Neglect eventually catches up to us. And when it does, the work needed to overcome the neglect can often leave us chopping our marriages down to the roots. As we chop, we discover just what damage we’ve done to those around us, like our children, forcing them to grow oddly because of the strain our neglect has put on them.

And the more we have to chop, the more uncertain our future becomes. Will our marriages regrow? Or will they die?

Let’s not neglect the issues that pop up in our relationships, issues that will force drastic measures later. Let’s instead tend our marriages now, pruning and weeding to keep them growing healthy and strong.

What tending do you need to do this week?

I wrote this post years ago, just a few months after we moved into our second purchased home. I’m happy to say that the hydrangeas in question not only survived, they exploded with growth the very next spring! The same hope exists for marriages, sometimes even those that seem to have endured too much neglect to ever truly recover. While marriages are obviously much more complex (and abusive neglect changes the discussion completely), I have seen this miracle happen with them as well. It is a beautiful sight.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Obedience

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever stopped to question why disobedience happens? Why do children disobey their parents? Why do employees disobey their bosses? Why have God’s people disobeyed Him throughout history?

We all like to fall back on the simple answers of rebellion and pride. And those are relevant answers. And for some people, that really is the crux of the matter. They don’t want anyone telling them what to do. But often even those reasons spring out of something deeper.

Obedience is scary.

Obedience requires us to trust that what someone else tells us to do is the right thing. That if it all falls apart, they will be there to bear the weight of the failure.

And obeying God? On the one hand, that should be easier because He’s perfect and infallible. He sees all and knows all. But He’s also unseen and incomprehensible. Sometimes His instructions don’t seem to make sense and we second guess whether we even heard Him right or not. I mean, we have the Bible and can see the miracles there, but does that really translate to now? Does He still really work that way?

It’s not just the big things, either. Today I’m struggling with something as simple as writing. I find myself wanting to do just about anything else. I feel like He’s given me the instruction to write. But since I have tried to reinstate the habit of writing, I’ve struggled so much with knowing what to write. Or, when I do have an idea, I struggle with being able to translate the thoughts in my head into something communicable.

And what happens on the days when I just can’t? When I can’t come up with anything to write? Or what if I write something that is just…wrong? Or something that discourages when I intend to encourage? Or something that comes from a place of naiveté or ignorance? What if I’m incapable of obedience because of all of the road blocks I’ve hit when I’ve tried to do these things in the past? What if I get it all wrong?

And that’s just writing. Something simple and, in the grand scheme of things, pretty benign since I write for my own simple blog with no more than a handful of followers. If something that tame is scary, how much more so are the “big” things.

Obedience is scary.

But the truth is that trusting in myself is even scarier. I will definitely get it all wrong on my own. I need instruction and guidance.

That’s why obedience is the epitome of faith. It is acting on the trust that God really does know what He’s talking about. But, it’s also trusting that He is powerful enough not only to command but also to communicate.

I know my hearing is faulty. I know I struggle with wisdom. But, God is big enough to make His will known, even if it means getting through to someone as hard of hearing and doubtful as I am.

He can do it. And I can trust Him.

Yes, obedience is scary. But when I’m in the hands of my loving, almighty God, it’s the safest place to be because He has promised to guide me. When I remember that, I can even place my fear in His hands. Because He promised to take that, too.

Posted in Thoughts, What I Do

When I Don’t Know What to Do

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

It’s always amazing to me how, even as we grow, we face similar struggles at each level of growth. There are new dynamics, and old lessons means we have different tools to use as we work through the struggles than we might have in earlier seasons. But, the struggles carry a similarity, allowing us to need reminders of what we’ve learned in the past.

Today is a good example for me. This is another old post, one from over eight years ago. But it was a timely reminder today, one I needed in facing some of the struggles around me right now. I’m thankful both for reminders of growth and reminders of the tools I have in place to handle the things I’m facing today.

Have you ever been pulled from a place of belonging into a phase of uncertainty? From a place of confidence in your skills to a moment of feeling as if you really have nothing to offer? What do you do in those moments?

Hold Loosely

Last week, a sermon illustration reminded me of the importance of holding everything so very loosely. Allowing God to give and take away for His glory. It was not a new concept. I’ve heard it time and time again – and tried to live by it diligently. Yet, while standing in the middle of a long stretch of time in which my confidence has been challenged again and again, God knew I needed the reminder to hold loosely to everything.

So, what do you do when you don’t know what to do? You hold loosely. Surrender. Trust.

Admittedly, I don’t do any of that easily. Especially when my confidence is being stripped. When I feel like I don’t really have a place. When it seems as if I’m not doing anything well – or that I’m outright failing.

But the Lord never promised it would come easily. In fact, He promised suffering. He promised struggle. He promised challenge.

And He promised Himself right in the middle of it.

He Does Best When I Can’t

I know this all seems much more spiritual than practical. But, in truth, it’s very practical. Because what I do – every single aspect of what I do – is riddled with insecurity. I never experience a day when I don’t feel like I am failing in at least one area of life – being a wife or a mom or a pastor’s wife or a teacher or an editor or an employee or a whatever-else-I’m-doing-at-the-moment. Or all of the above.

Only when I hold it all loosely is the Holy Spirit capable of performing the jobs through me. And only then do I see success.

That makes “holding loosely” a very practical part of what I do. Even if it’s a part I forget regularly and have to be reminded of.

Hold loosely, my friend. Be ready to let Christ be the success, not you.

And be ready to remind me of this very thing tomorrow, because I’ll need it!

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Scripture

In

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Some time ago, I was praying over some particularly challenging needs. As I prayed, one of my go-to passages popped into mind: Philippians 4:4-8. But, somehow, I didn’t get far past “rejoice in the Lord.”

Actually, I got hung up on one word: in.

It’s easy to fly over that phrase and not truly stop to ponder what it means. “Rejoice in the Lord.”

Okay, Lord, let me see what I can be thankful for right now. It’s hard, because I’m overwhelmed by the circumstances, but I’ll try. Maybe. Yes…here goes. Oh, Lord, HELP!!!!

Unfortunately, that’s usually how it sounds when I try to start my prayer with thankfulness. But, here’s the problem. I’m still focused on circumstances. I’m just trying to find some way to be thankful for them.

And there’s another problem. Thanksgiving is not actually what this phrase commands. The whole thankfulness instruction comes later in the “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving” part. For now, it is simply “rejoice in the Lord.”

So many times I get stuck on word “rejoice.” I stop there and wonder why it is so hard to obey that simple command.

I confess I have to laugh a bit as I process through this. Why? Because this is a grammar issue more than a heart or mind issue. And as an editor, I’m all about grammar! Will you bear with me for a moment while we look at this phrase through an editor’s eyes?

For those of you who aren’t too fond of grammar, let me try to give a quick, simple explanation. We have two grammatical components to deal with here. First, we have an imperative. An imperative is a command, often encapsulated in a single word. Second, we see a prepositional phrase. A preposition is a word that lends a sense of direction, like in, of, for, to, under, over, etc. It is followed by a noun called the object of the preposition, telling you to whom or what the direction relates (under the table). Together, they make up the prepositional phrase.

The thing about a preposition is that, unlike a single-word imperative, the whole phrase is what’s actually important. A preposition on its own doesn’t mean much until you add the object. The single word leaves you waiting for more. The whole phrase put together is what gives a sense of meaning.

So, what’s in this verse?

Rejoice (imperative) in (preposition) the Lord (object of the preposition).

What happens if we don’t stop with the imperative, but continue on to the prepositional phrase? What if we make sure we move on to in the Lord without getting stuck on rejoice?

I know what happens to me. I get a refocus. I find myself in the center of Him instead of in the center of my circumstances. I am moved. Transformed. Lifted. The circumstances don’t change, but I do. And it makes all the difference.

When I rejoice in the Lord, the following commands come much more easily:
– let your gentle spirit be known to all men
– pray with thanksgiving
– think on these things

Yes, it’s all a natural progression, but only if I start by truly rejoicing in the Lord.

Posted in Thoughts from Life

Rain

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

As I look out the window this morning, I see bright sunshine. I do enjoy sunshine. I need it after a long stretch of clouds and gloom. But, right now we have a bit too much of it. We’ve gone long stretches with all sunshine and no rain, and there is no rain in the forecast. In fact, they are saying we may go the whole month without a drop.

If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that I’m grieving the lack of rain.

You see, I love rain. Not necessarily the dark and gloom, especially if it’s just cloudy with no rain falling. On those days, I’d rather have sunshine. But as long as it’s dripping and wet, the gloom doesn’t bother me. I’ll turn on those extra lights while I wait for the sun, but the truth is that it will take me long time to get tired of the rain. And I’m almost always sad to see it go, even when we’ve had too much and I know we don’t need more.

My love for rain probably comes from spending many of my growing up years in a desert climate. As the last of the winter rains dwindled away and the spring sun came out, the hills around us would erupt in a beautiful array of colors as poppies, irises (especially the dark purple, almost black Gilead iris that only grows in those hills), and other wildflowers overtook the landscape. But, they never lasted long. Within a couple of weeks, the flowers were dead and any grass that had sprouted up was already starting to turn brown.

As much as I loved wildflower season, I also knew what it meant. We’d have at least eight, and possibly as many as ten, months of complete dryness. Not a single drop of rain. Not even a hint of a cloud. The sky would go from brilliant blue to dusty brown. As summer progressed and the land completely dried out, massive dust storms would roll over us as thick as winter fog.

When the rains finally returned sometime between October and December, the first shower would often look more like mud than rain as it washed the dust out of the air. We didn’t care, though. We’d be out in it, dancing and laughing as we welcomed each drop. Those first rains meant cleansing. They meant that we could breathe. They meant a few months of relief from the heat. They meant blue skies and green hills, at least for a couple of weeks before cold set in and chased the grass away again.

And to this day, I welcome rain with relish.

That’s not what everyone feels when they look out the window and see rain. Some people see the gloom and desperately need the sun, even knowing that the rain is necessary. Some people are hounded with memories, not of dancing in the welcome rain, but of the destruction that so often comes with the rain. Havoc wreaked by storm lines or hurricanes, as we’ve seen horrific evidence of lately. Crops destroyed by too much rain or by hard rain at hard times. Dangerous flash floods from a sudden rainburst.

Or, perhaps the memories are less general and more personal. Ruined plans. Getting in trouble because of not having an outlet to release energy when trapped indoors by the weather.

The thing that brings me such joy can also bring incredible pain. I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived with the consequences. And I so very much understand that those experiences cause some people to dread even the thought of rain, no matter how much it’s needed.

Joy and grief are like that. They intermingle but they also fight for top billing in our hearts. Sometimes the joy wins, while other times the grief is overwhelming. And in the process, we feel our own feelings and wonder how someone else can possibly feel differently. How can someone else hate rain so much when it’s so life-giving? How can someone else long for rain when the sun shining from a cloudless sky is so nourishing?

More confusing of all is when all of those feelings clash in our own hearts. When we desperately need the cleansing rain but just as desperately need the light of the sun. When our circumstances are washing out the dirt and yuck in our hearts but what we achingly hunger for is to just be clean and light and happy again.

We live in a fallen world that needs both clouds and sun, rain and dry. Neither is perfect, but both are good. Scripture tells us that nature itself groans as it waits for the perfection to be restored. For it all to be good without any mix of bad. But we’re not there yet. So, we have to learn what it means to live with it all.

We have to learn to embrace what we love while ministering to those who ache in those same moments. We have to learn to both laugh and cry with one another without sacrificing our own joy and tears.

There’s no easy answer to it. Today as I stare out at the sunshine, I admit that my soul is feeling parched along with the dry ground. But, even while I pray for an unexpected soaking rain, both for the ground and for my soul, I’m rejoicing over the light shining on both. That intermingling of joy and grief. That knowledge that God is growing me with His light, even when I feel parched. The truth that, when the rains come and there are others who feel like they are drowning, I can empathize with and pray for them even as they can for my parched soul today.

And one day, we’ll rejoice in the perfection, all receiving nourishing together. That’s the day I long for.

Posted in Uncategorized

Summer People

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I am thankful for summer people.

I am definitely not a summer person myself. I wilt in the summer. Give me a day in the 70s or low 80s in the middle of summer or as it’s waning, and I’m thrilled because it’s a break from the heat. But in the spring? It just means the cold is over and the heat is coming, and I don’t like the thought. The cold, though, is my friend. Any tint of a chill in the air makes me so happy. Yes, I sometimes get tired of the cold. Yes, it’s annoying when my fingers act up in the cold and don’t work like they should. Yes, sometimes I wish I didn’t have to keep up with a coat. But I get tired of the heat much more quickly. Winter is my happy time.

But then there are the summer people. They love those warm spring days because that means they are about to come alive. They enjoy being out in the warmth, working in their yards or gardens, and enjoying the chance to be free from the jackets and sweaters. The things that speak coziness and delight to me are restrictive to them.

Winter is my time to shine. To have energy. To celebrate. To thrive. To soak up every ounce of the cold but to also share warmth through a pot of soup or a nice hot cup of cocoa.

Summer is their time to do the same. To show their own burst of energy that helps them celebrate and thrive. To coax growth out of the ground. To share activities and nourishment that soaks up creation.

All too often, we don’t celebrate each other’s differences. We gripe and complain about one another and wish we were all the same. The summer people wish summer would last longer and fuss at those who wish for snow. The winter people gripe about the heat and fuss at those who complain about having to put on a jacket.

Instead of celebrating one another, we fuss. We gripe. We pick. We complain.

And, sadly, heat and cold — or pumpkin spice and apple cinnamon, the “argument” that swirls every year as autumn approaches — aren’t the only things we fuss about. We pick apart one another’s personalities. We criticize someone else for their hobbies, social preferences, favorite foods, likes and dislikes, and so much more. We attack one another over every little thing.

We have a beautiful opportunity to instead celebrate one another!

I’ve been so guilty of this. It’s easy to complain. It’s easy to be frustrated about the differences in others. It’s easy to gripe that they don’t “get” me — when I refuse to “get” them either.

I’m going to practice by celebrating my summer people. I’m going to be thankful for them and cheer for their enjoyment of these warm days, even as I enjoy the cool mornings. I’m going to explore the fullness of enjoying their enjoyment while also anticipating my own delight that is still to come, even if it’s delayed a bit because of where I live.

Because our differences are sweet. And I’m thankful for every single one of them.

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

Purpose Enough

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve done it all my life. When I hit a bump in the road, a struggle, a discouragement, or a time of suffering, I ask why. I think knowing the reason will help me cope. Make it worthwhile. Help me truly reach for joy in the suffering.

More than that, doesn’t seeing a reason help with my testimony to others? “Look what God is doing!” I could say — if I only knew what God actually was doing.

But what happens when a reason is not given?

I’ve been there. Instead of, “Look what God is doing,” I have to fall back on, “God is in control and He does love me, even if I don’t feel it right now.” That’s harder. So much harder. Especially when the pain goes on and on and on or when I hear the questions of why God would allow suffering in the first place.

I confess, the lack of being able to see God’s hand — an inability to see how He could be glorified through the situation or how the question of pain and suffering even fits with a glorious, loving God — has distracted me from resting in Him many times. I believed I needed evidence. But so many times, He has withheld that evidence from me.

Instead, He’s given Himself, which is actually the exact provision I truly need to process through the struggle.

Therefore, since Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves also with the same understanding—because the one who suffers in the flesh is finished with sin—in order to live the remaining time in the flesh no longer for human desires, but for God’s will. 1 Peter 4:1-2 (CSB)

What if, contrary to what we often try to argue, God doesn’t send suffering so that He can turn around and glorify Himself through some grand, magnificent miracle? What if, instead, He takes the suffering that is already here, that this world is utterly steeped in, and uses it? Redeems it by driving us to cease from our sin? To continue to grow in righteousness? To become more like Him?

When we endure suffering faithfully, when we truly push through those times of pain and heartache and choose to trust God even in the middle of them, those fleshly lusts lose their allure, don’t they? We realize what is truly precious, and we cling to it, turning away from the sin that once ensnared us.

Yet how many times do we forget that truth when we are standing in the midst of a struggle? We ask for purpose for our suffering, a lesser gift, instead of seeking His righteousness to grow in us.

I would love to be free from suffering. I would love to completely remove the suffering from everyone around me. It’s bad. It’s not what God intended, and I imagine it grieves His heart. I hunger for the day when He fulfills His promise to make all things new. The day when suffering will be completely gone.

In the meantime, though, I hunger for righteousness. Even while I remain in this world of suffering, I want to become the type of person who thinks with joy of the day when both will be done away with and we will live in perfection with Christ our Savior. With God our Almighty Father and Creator.

No matter what the suffering, may that truth return to my memory and be purpose enough for me.

The Christian Standard Bible. Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible®, and CSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers, all rights reserved.
Posted in Thoughts from Scripture

Belief

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Abram believed the LORD, and he credited it to him as righteousness. Genesis 15:6 (CSB)

The biblical narrative of Abraham and Sarah is such a familiar one that it can be hard to study, teach, and discuss, especially among others who have familiarity with Scripture. Creation, the fall, the flood, Babel…then Abraham being singled out. We know it all well.

But there’s something about Abraham’s story that I have taken for granted. I haven’t really thought much about how much he knew.

Think about it. The Bible’s focus is God’s communication with us as His people. It’s not a history or science text. It doesn’t explain how the world was created or how exactly the flood covered the earth. We don’t get to know what happened in the cosmos when the sun stood still for Joshua or the shadow moved backward for Hezekiah. The star that appeared at Jesus’s birth remains a mystery to us.*

No, those stories do not tell us the how. But they do make it clear that Almighty God was directly involved with His creation in so many ways. And it’s not just the big, unexplainable events. There are also details that show He has chosen to be intimately accessible to His creation and His people. That accessibility only grew with His sending of the Holy Spirit in Acts, and we as modern Christians have 2000 years of church history giving testimony to the fact that His interaction with mankind didn’t stop with the writing of Revelation. It continues to this day!

We have so much. So very much.

We still struggle sometimes in our belief that this invisible God who exists beyond our ability to know or imagine truly wants to be in relationship with us. But, we have so very much evidence to support that truth.

What did Abram have? When he chose to believe the Lord at this moment in life — this moment when he and Sarai were childless and too old to imagine that would ever change — what evidence did he have about God to convince him that God’s promises could be trusted?

Did he have more than what we find today in the first eleven chapters of Genesis? Had he heard personal stories of God’s presence in the lives of people since the flood? Maybe he did. But, we also know that, while Noah was personally chosen to be the one to ensure that humanity continued after the flood, Abram was the one at the front edge of the grand narrative of God’s intimate and personal plan for salvation. Most of the action in the salvation story starts with him.

Abram had a flood story. He had knowledge of God’s judgment. But, he didn’t have all of the stories of God intervening on behalf of the children of Israel, his descendants. He didn’t know that God Himself would come to earth in the form of a baby. He didn’t see the expansion of the church after Pentecost.

All he had was a call and a handful of visions amid years of silence.

Yet he believed. And that belief, that allegiance to this unseen God, was credited to him as righteousness.

That’s the kind of belief I want. The kind of belief that says yes to the God who has proven His desire to interact with little ol’ me. Honestly, I wonder if that’s what Abram saw. Having lived in a society that believed in distant gods who held themselves aloof from mankind, he encountered something different. Almighty God talked to him. Chose him. Directed him. Instructed him. Spoke to him.

God does the same with me. Even if there was never another miracle, never another answered prayer, God talks to me. Me! Someone who has no reason to stand out. This Father God sent His Son to earth, His own essence incarnate, to ensure an eternal restoration of connection between mankind and Himself. He wants us to know Him. Not just to worship Him, although that is important. Not just to recognize Him as God, although that is critical. But to know Him. Personally. Intimately.

Even me.

What a tremendous reason to believe Him.

*I do love Patrick W. Carr’s interpretation of the star in his novel The End of the Magi. Fascinating idea, even if it is still just the product of one author’s imagination.

The Christian Standard Bible. Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible®, and CSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers, all rights reserved.
Posted in Thoughts from Life

Words

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Have you ever found yourself boldly stating something as fact, only to discover shortly after that you weren’t quite right?

Or have you ever processed back on a concept you taught or shared or lived out with confidence that you have since learned to view in greater depth…and therefore differently?

Today I’m struggling, not because I don’t have any ideas to write about, but because I’m increasingly aware of the weight of sharing those words.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not under any illusions that I’m this huge influencer or anything. It’s not that. But, the truth is that words or ideas shared with even one other person can have an impact. Can cause a ripple. Can either nourish or infect.

I’m not an expert in much of anything. I have experience in many things, but I’m living proof of the idea that the more you learn, the more you discover there is to learn. Things I used to proclaim boldly are now a little less solid in my own mind. It’s not because I’ve changed my mind or become wishy-washy. It’s because I’ve learned more and discovered that nothing is as clear-cut and simple as I once thought it was.

I love writing about, talking about, and teaching from Scripture. But I know that there have been times I’ve taught poorly. I’ve spoken wrongly. I’ve written with an overly simplistic or overly superior approach. I want to instead share from a place of grace. A place of learning. A place of recognizing that I don’t know it all and still have much to learn.

I’ve either started or hashed out several ideas in my writing time in recent weeks. I have a stash of ideas, half-written posts, or rough drafts from other writing days. Sometimes I’m afraid to post them. Afraid that I’m wrong or that I’ll make someone mad or that I’ll push buttons that don’t need to be pushed.

Other times, I sense that the thoughts are incomplete. That I haven’t really brought them to fruition and haven’t made a solid point. Still other times, I have a distinct sense that my timing is bad and that I just need to wait before clicking publish.

The wisest people I know are those who are careful about what they say. This doesn’t mean they are always right or that they never make mistakes. But they are careful. And they own their mistakes.

That’s how I want to be. Wise.

So, I prayerfully continue to sit on some of my words. To wait before I share. Not just on the blog, but on social media and hopefully in person as well. (That one’s harder, because in a real conversation I speak so much more quickly than I speak! Ouch!)

Because above all, I want my words to point others to Christ. I want them to be full of truth, honorable, kind, and humble. That is my prayer.