Tag: faith

Posted in Thoughts from Life

No Perfect Code

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I love getting to learn new skills. One of the skills I’ve learned over the past decade or so has been a very rudimentary understanding of a couple of coding languages. I don’t know anywhere near enough to write more than a few very basic components of code. Nor do I know how to do any major troubleshooting if something is wrong. But, I know enough to make minor tweaks and updates to existing code or to solve very basic problems.

The nice thing about code is that problems can often be fixed by adding or removing one single character. Of course, that’s also the bad thing about code. If something’s wrong, it could be off by one single character, which can be tough to find.

Either way, though, it’s objective. It’s a logic problem. Creating code and solving problems might be a headache (okay, so no “might” to that — there’s always some form of headache when it comes to coding, it’s just a matter of how big the headache is), but it’s still formulaic.

How tempting is it to try to approach life that way? To believe that we can solve anything and everything if we can just find the right button to push?

And, in all honesty, we do approach life that way. Our self-help books and marketing show this to be true.
Follow these steps and you can write and sell your book.
Choose this path, and you can achieve your dream job.
Take these supplements or follow this plan and you can get healthy and skinny.
Do this with your children and they’ll turn out brilliant and successful and perfect.

If you would just do it my way using my tips and tricks and products, everything will be just perfect.

Except it won’t. Life doesn’t work that way. Life is not code. Life is subjective and messy, and what works perfectly in one situation doesn’t work in another.

On the one hand, I like that because it gives me freedom to say, “I’m glad that works for you, but it’s just not me.” On the other hand, though, I do wish I had a formula. I wish I could just insert the right code and have everything fall into place for my husband, my children, and myself. I wish I could just follow a plan and have everything work perfectly for our church. I wish I could just say the right words in prayer and have my prayer journal be filled with answers to prayer instead of requests that seem to stubbornly stay unanswered.

There’s no perfect code, and it’s annoying. There’s no perfect motivational trick, and it’s exhausting. There’s no way to fix things, and it’s heartbreaking.

But, there’s God. There is an all-powerful, perfect, just, righteous, and holy God who is also loving and intimate and close. There’s a God who is always constant and whose character doesn’t change, but whose character includes so much creativity that He doesn’t have to act the same way twice. He can keep us surprised. Keep us, by necessity, trusting in Him.

That trust is hard sometimes. Serving a God whose creativity is that big means we cannot predict, cannot solve, cannot logic our way through the circumstances of life because His ways are too big to fit into those boxes. That’s really the essence of trust, though. Giving up our right to the ability to figure out solutions on our own. To surrender to His ability instead.

To wait. To watch. To rest. To abide.

No, there’s no perfect code. And for someone who likes to logic and checklist their way through things, that can be hard.

But it’s also good. Because creative love is better, and the love of God is the greatest of all. I’ll trust in that.

Posted in Thoughts, Thoughts from Life

Not My Strength

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I’ve started three different posts this morning, but none of them were posts that lend themselves toward quick completion. So, I’ll share them…later. For today, I found this thought from nearly eleven years ago. I have only guesses about what the task was that caused such issues back then, but I know I’ve experienced this struggle many times since then. And, honestly, I frequently need this reminder to not rely on my own strength. So, today I share these “old” but still relevant thoughts with you while the “fresh” thoughts continue to percolate and find their way to completion.

Do you have one of those areas? Of course you do. We all do. That thing that, whether we like it or not, we absolutely stink at!

Yet somehow, at some point, we find ourselves having to do that very thing.

I’ve dealt with that thing in ministry. I’ve dealt with it at work. In fact, I’ve got one of those things on my work plate right now. This week it has caused me to spend several hours plodding through a still unfinished task that should have been done in under an hour. Because it’s not my strength. Because I’m not good at it.

But guess what, my friends. Even those things need to be done. And sometimes we get to be the chosen ones. For some reason, the wonderfully gifted just can’t do it this time around. So, it falls to us.

So, we do it.

As frustrating as it can be to have to tackle things that do not fall within our strengths, I believe God has a very grand purpose when He puts the jobs before us.

First, we are reminded that the strength is His, not ours. Why, oh why, do we need that reminder? But we do, don’t we? We go through daily life and rely increasingly on our own strength. Oh, my friend, our strength is so small! Even in the areas of our giftings, our strength is so very limited. And the more we limit our activities to our “natural talents,” the more even those areas of talent become a struggle.

If God is not working through us, then we’re not working successfully. Period. And when we forget that reality, God has to remind us – usually by taking us outside our comfort zones and forcing us to rely on His strength again.

Second, we understand others better. If you are a natural when it comes to working with children, you might not understand my struggle with and aversion to being involved in children’s ministry. On the other hand, if you tell me that a simple sewing pattern looks like a foreign language to you, it will blow my mind. It’s just a pattern. It’s as clear as day. Right?

Just because a task is natural to me does not mean it will be to you, and vice versa. And that’s okay. It really is. Neither of us is deficient in any way. We are not faulty or incomplete.

We say that we know that to be true – we all readily agree that different people have different talents. But, often we forget to make that knowledge a part of our everyday understanding of people. We get irritable when someone else doesn’t “get” it. And God has to put a task before us that stretches us outside our strengths to remind us to be patient with others.

I often like to complain when a task outside my strengths is put before me. But, I should instead thank God for the opportunity to stretch myself and better appreciate those who typically do the task. (And believe me, I’m very appreciative this week!) May that become our faithful response!

Originally published November, 2015
Posted in Thoughts from Others, Thoughts from Scripture

Not Alone

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Some mornings, I read and have to work pretty hard to process what I’ve read. I want to study and grow and learn, but some mornings I just have to make it my goal to get the information into my head and trust that the understanding will dawn eventually.

Other mornings, though, things just jump out at me. Sometimes a lot of things, sometimes a few. But, they literally leap off the page and catch me by surprise.

Then there are days when I’m distracted and struggling for most of the reading, but one little thing still grabs at me. Reading back through my journal, I discovered an entry about one of those days. It was the first day of a new year, but the week was about halfway through — and it had been a long week already. I was tired. My shoulders were stiff with tension. And my head was not really grasping the sense of a new beginning or fresh start of any sort. On days like that, an arbitrary date on a calendar declaring, “New Year!!!” doesn’t really offer a promise that things will be truly new or good or different.

So instead of feeling celebratory, I started the day a wee bit grouchy. And then I read these words:

The psalmist insists that no one anytime, anywhere, praises the Lord alone.

The sentence came from a commentary on the Psalms entitled The Psalms: Jesus’s Prayer Book by Douglas D. Webster. I’d been reading the four-book series all during the previous year as a companion to our church reading plan, which had spent the year working slowly and steadily through the Psalms. The plan ran over just a few days into the new year, and the reading on this particular morning was Psalm 148, a sweeping song of praise encompassing the whole of creation. In fact, it’s hard to read the psalm without thinking of God’s act of creation, especially since another devotional reading that morning centered on Genesis 1.

The whole set of readings offered a powerful reminder of praise, even speaking into my grouchy, tired, cranky morning. Even so, this one little quote took me off guard.

Why?

Because it made me realize that, so often, I choose to approach praise as if I’m alone. Just me trying to figure out how to praise God in the middle of the “whatever” of my life, even if I’m with others who are doing the same thing. We’ve made our relationship with God so personal that it has become individualistic. And that leaves us feeling alone.

But we’re not. Ever. Even if there wasn’t another person around with a heart to praise our Savior, Lord, and Creator, we still wouldn’t be alone because all of creation is constantly praising Him.

We never, ever praise alone.

Whether through the laughter of my family, the songs of a congregation, or the music of wind chimes as the breeze blows around them, praise is everywhere. And I’m a part of it.

I should know this. And, deep inside, I realize I do know it. But I hadn’t really been living the knowledge. Instead, I’d been complaining because I felt alone.

The most beautiful thing about the Spirit’s instruction and illumination of God’s Word is that we become nourished even when the circumstances don’t change. My week was still long. The challenges were still there. But the reminder shifted my focus, as is evident in my journal entry for the next day. How amazing to serve that kind of God.

And to know, we’re never alone.

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

Thoughts from Moses

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Do you ever look at certain stories in the Bible and wonder how in the world people can respond the way they do? I do. Moses’ behavior in Exodus 3-4 is one example. Here Moses is, standing in front of a bush that is on fire but not being destroyed, talking to Almighty God. And what does he do? He argues.

Well, at first he’s afraid, which is a very natural response. And he sees his own inadequacies in the face of a holy, awesome God. Again, not only natural, but very appropriate.

But, then Moses goes above and beyond the point of recognizing his inadequacies. He starts arguing to the point of informing God that He’s wrong. Ouch! It’s easy to condemn Moses for his behavior. But, I can’t help but want to dig deeper. Why would Moses go to such extremes?

I think the answer might lie in Exodus 2, in the hands of the fellow Hebrews Moses simply wanted to help.

Years later, after Moses had grown up, he went out to his own people and observed their forced labor. He saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, one of his people. Looking all around and seeing no one, he struck the Egyptian dead and hid him in the sand. The next day he went out and saw two Hebrews fighting. He asked the one in the wrong, “Why are you attacking your neighbor?”

“Who made you a commander and judge over us?” the man replied. “Are you planning to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”

Then Moses became afraid and thought, “What I did is certainly known.”

When Pharaoh heard about this, he tried to kill Moses. But Moses fled from Pharaoh and went to live in the land of Midian, and sat down by a well. – Exodus 2:11-15

Keep in mind that Moses was called and preserved from birth for the purpose of being used by God to free the Israelites. He might not yet have known how to listen to God’s plan, but he already had a huge burden for the people of God.

Yet even from the very beginning, the people he wanted to help lashed out at him, rejecting his help. (And this would be repeated so very many times over the next forty years.) They may even have been the reason Pharaoh learned about the murder. Now, don’t get me wrong — I don’t believe Moses was in the right here in his choice to kill the Egyptian. I believe he let his passion rule, and God needed to get ahold of him and teach him a lot. Even so, being attacked by the very people he thought he was helping had to leave a wound.

A wound that seemed to still be bothersome forty years after Moses fled Egypt.

A wound that had settled in so firmly that he seemed to honestly believe Almighty God, the great I AM, didn’t really know what He was talking about.

Obviously, Scripture doesn’t explicitly say, “Moses didn’t believe God because he’d been deeply hurt by the Hebrews before, and he didn’t think it was possible for them to accept him as their leader no matter what I AM said.” But I’ve seen what the wounds from a friend can do.

I’ve seen someone express passion and excitement because God was working and it was visible. The delight in being a part of that work was so tangible! But, doubt began to creep in. Then an attack came. Not from the world, but from a friend. From a beloved fellow Christian. And the wound struck so deep that it overcame the passion and excitement. Delight turned into confusion and an insatiable urge to just escape. Walk away from all of the work. Walk away from being used by God. Hide and never feel that hurt again.

I’ve not just seen that hurt in others. I’ve felt it myself, so very strongly. It’s a deep wound.

Cherished loved ones can hurt us. Those who should be our allies can derail us. Friends can deceive and incapacitate us. The most tragic reality is that the actions of fellow believers can convince us that the all-powerful, almighty, unfailing, all-knowing, loving God who called us doesn’t know what He’s talking about. Yes, we can and do respond just like Moses did. Ouch.

And more often than not, they aren’t doing it intentionally. They’re just acting out of a focus on self instead of on God and others. It’s easy to do. We’ve all been there, especially when we’re struggling with something. Think about the Israelites. Their problem wasn’t really with Moses. It was with their oppressors. They were tired. Weighted down. And lashing out at the most available person — who just happened to be the person who wanted to help them.

No wonder Scripture tells us so many times to encourage one another. To build one another up. To be a community of unity. Of nourishment. Of exhortation. Yes, to call out sin in one another, but never, ever, ever to tear one another down. Because we have to be reminded to look beyond ourselves. We don’t remember on our own.

God’s enemy wants to divide us. He wants to isolate us. He wants to cause disunity among us. Because when he does, he can cause us to doubt God’s calling. He can drive us to argue that we’re not enough. And when we’re alone, we’re not enough. But when we’re together, serving our Lord God in the unifying power of His Spirit, nothing can stop us.

Which option will we choose?

Posted in Thoughts from Scripture

No Big Picture – Part 2

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Chewing on thoughts from Scripture never fails to produce results. Maybe that’s why we are reminded so often to meditate on God’s Word.

That was definitely the case as I continued to meditate on John 5:19-20 after the verses literally jumped off the page at me. I shared my immediate thoughts last week, but the concept continued to deepen. Continued to form. Continued to work on my heart.

Here are the verses again, just as a reminder:

Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, the Son is not able to do anything on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing. For whatever the Father does, the Son likewise does these things. For the Father loves the Son and shows him everything he is doing, and he will show him greater works than these so that you will be amazed. John 5:19-20 CSB

The initial realization was that Jesus didn’t have the big picture. By choice. He surrendered it when He took on flesh.

That is mind-boggling enough. But, the more I contemplated it all, the more the enormity of the situation began to sink into my slow brain. Before taking on flesh, the Son didn’t have to be shown anything. He was part of it. He automatically knew it. John 1 tells us that He was there in the beginning. He already existed with God. He knew it all because He ordained it all.

But He surrendered that full knowledge when He took on flesh, putting Himself in a place where He had to rely on the Father to show Him what was going on. He had to trust that the Father would show Him what was relevant when it was relevant. And He never doubted that it would happen, because He trusted the Father’s love and wisdom explicitly.

Here’s where this all hits me. I crave the big picture in life as much as I crave it in my job. I want to see it all so I can then break it down and tackle each step as needed. In my work, that’s necessary. The issues I’ve had in recent years have come down to the reality that I haven’t had enough information, and those who’ve had the information have neglected to give it to me. There was a breakdown. I work for good people. But they miss things. Because of that, I can’t automatically trust them to give me what I need when I need it.

In a way, that’s an understandable frustration with the small reality of work. But, when I crave it in life as a whole, the life that is supposed to be 100% surrendered to the Lord Jesus Christ and, by extension, God the Father, it reveals a problem. A sinful lack of trust kind of problem.

God the Father knows what I need. He knows when I need it. If it comes from Him, I can trust that it’s enough to take the next step, as long as I’m listening faithfully. He never gives too little. If I mess up, it’s because I responded poorly to what He gave me; it’s never because He didn’t give me enough information or the right information.

And yet, I often treat Him like my boss and coworkers. I fuss that I need more. More information. More guidance. More clarity. More…something. That I need to see the big picture. I need to see where He’s taking me so I can figure out my next steps.

That’s faithlessness, pure and simple. Sinful faithlessness.

Ouch.

I have tried to orchestrate life. Break down the big picture. Make things fit just so. And I’ve hit brick walls of frustration on so many things. But the Lord spoke into my striving, whispering truth into my spirit. He showed me the answers He’s already given me. He pointed me to prayers I’ve been praying and how my current uncertainty is actually an answer to some of those prayers. He showed me the action I need to take right now. Today. This week. It doesn’t solve next week or next month. It doesn’t make all of the pieces come together. In fact, it tempts me to ask more questions.

But God isn’t calling me to solve those things. He’s calling me to trust Him today. To see what He has put right in front of me and to do that. Only that. To leave the rest — the big picture — in His hands. Because He knows what to do with it. For all the ways He’s gifted me to break down dreams and visions and ideas into tangible actions, He has not gifted me to solve life’s big issues. That’s His job, not mine.

So today I confess my lack of trust. I repent of my whiny refusal to act simply because I don’t have all the information I think I need. I surrender my need for the big picture. And I make a commitment to do follow along with what I see the Father doing today.

In work. In life. In everything. That’s more than enough.

Posted in Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Scripture

Comfort

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

“Comfort, comfort my people,”
says your God.
“Speak kindly to Jerusalem and tell her
that her time of warfare is over,
that her punishment is completed.
For the Lord has made her pay double for all her sins.”
Isaiah 40:1-2

I just love the book of Isaiah. I don’t slow down as often as I should when I read it. But when I do, it always grabs me, both in the devastating first part and the hopeful second part.

Isaiah 40 is one of the better known passages of the book, thanks to its Messianic tone and frequent reference in sermon, song, and more. Because of that, sometimes it’s easy for me to read through it without slowing down. I know what it says. It’s familiar. It’s clear.

When I do slow down, though, I’m nearly blown away. Just think about it for a minute. For centuries, God had watched His people reject Him, ignore Him, disobey Him, and suffer the consequences of their refusal to follow Him. They blamed Him for their suffering even while choosing to chase after the things He explicitly told them would hurt them.

Ultimately, they chose punishment instead of His care. His heart grieved, but He knew that the only way to get their attention was to allow them to experience the consequences of their choices.

That’s the first part of Isaiah. But then, the story shifts, enough so that some theologians insist that the second part of Isaiah had to have been written by a different author. And yet, it all comes from the same God. The God who instructs and lays out a clear path of obedience for His people. The God who gives His people a choice. The God who grieves when His people choose to reject and disobey Him. The God who allows the punishment and consequences to fall.

And the God of chapter 40 who declares comfort.

When someone has hurt me, I may forgive them, but I don’t necessarily embrace them again. I will either walk away completely, choosing a separate path from them, or I’ll erect a barrier that keeps them at arm’s length.

Not God! He leans right back in. He embraces. He comforts. He restores intimacy. He draws His people close to His heart, putting them right back on His path.

How astounding is that! How loving! How powerful!

And what should my response be?

First, to recognize the boon this is for me. He takes me back. He embraces me. He welcomes me back into His intimacy even when I’ve messed up royally. He loves my confession and repentance and is right there to welcome me back into His embrace every single time, comforting me even as I grieve over my choice to hurt Him…yet again.

Second, to be a reflection of this to those around me. They, too, are that close to His comfort. His intimacy. His grace and mercy and lovingkindness. And I get to be a conduit of that.

I get choked up every time I think of how Isaiah must have felt when this message flowed through Him to the people of Israel. He’d been proclaiming judgment and punishment. Destruction and captivity. Suddenly, though, he could declare comfort and intimacy. He had the opportunity to speak of the incomprehensible love of God, to declare its closeness and assurance. Where he’d only been able to speak of doom, he could now shout about joy.

What a treasure! What a delight! And I get to declare the same thing, but with even more clarity than Isaiah because I know the rest of the story! Instead of knowing that sometime in the future there will be a Savior, I get to look back and see how Isaiah’s prophecies were fulfilled through the incarnation of Christ.

I get to point to the exact moment in history when the comfort of God was sealed through the destruction of death. Wow!

This is the truth I want to live. Abundantly, powerfully, openly. Declaring God’s comfort to all, that they may have the chance to receive — no matter where they’ve been.

Posted in Meditations & Meanderings, Thoughts from Life, Uncategorized

Just Do Something?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

When you’re stuck, unable to figure out what to do next, sometimes the best thing to do is…something. Anything. Just move. Break out of the lethargy. Just do something. There’s something to this when we lack a solid vision of what’s next or are struggling with creativity that seems to have gone AWOL. The act of just taking action, no matter what that action may be, can kick us into gear.

Kind of like that 5-speed that won’t start no matter how many times you turn the key. But, give it a good push or start it rolling down a hill, then pop it into gear, and it will fire right up as pretty as you please! It’s quite the fun trick!

If we look around, though, I think we might find ourselves surrounded by people who have chosen to do something instead of doing the one thing they are supposed to be doing. These aren’t the people who are stuck. Uncertain. Struggling to figure things out. These are the people who know what it is they are supposed to be doing but are hesitant to jump out and do it.

On the one hand, it’s completely understandable. Often the things we know we should do are more than a little frightening. They represent change. We can’t see the big picture. Sometimes we can’t see past the very first step, and we’re afraid of falling flat on our face with the second one.

So, we decide to test the waters. We do this little thing over here to try to build up our courage. We do that little thing over there to try to nudge our creativity. We’re doing something, right? We’re trying to get ourselves motivated to do what we know we’ve been called to do. That’s good, right? Maybe even enough for now?

I have news for you. For myself. For all of us. It’s not enough.

Why? Because it’s not what God has called us to do.

Just doing something is a step to keep us active when we don’t know what to do next. But the honest truth is that most of us know what we’re supposed to do next. We might not have a grand vision or a five-year plan. We might not know how this step of obedience is going to play out in the grand scheme of things. But we know what we’re supposed to do next.

Write that note.
Have that conversation.
Apply for that job.
Go to that doctor’s appointment.
Volunteer for that event.
Audition for that role.
Make that gift.
Take that lesson.
Put your house on the market.
Plan that move.

Write and publish that blog post. (Getting personal now.)

I could go on and on and on. For some of us it’s a big thing. We know that the next step is a life-changing one that will leave us on the brink of the unknown. For others of us, the next step seems very tiny. It won’t take us more than a few minutes. Yet we put it off because we know the consequences could be bigger than we can possibly foresee.

But, we’re not obedient.

Today, if you are in a spot where you really and truly don’t know what you’re supposed to do next, then I encourage you to just do something. But I imagine that the vast majority of us are in a very different place. We know a next step. We’re just avoiding it.

If that’s you, don’t just do something. Do that thing.

Step out. Be obedient. Take the plunge. And know that the God who gave you the instruction already has every step covered. He’s got you, even if you can’t see Him. He’ll keep you going. He’ll show you the next thing in His perfect timing. As long as you will go ahead and take that step today.

Let’s do our things together today, shall we?

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts from Life

Choosing Our Light

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Today I am struggling with a lot of angsty thoughts that I can’t really communicate well…or kindly, to be honest. But, this old post fits and feels relevant. So, instead of a brand new angsty post, I’ll share these old thoughts and then add a few new ones at the end.

This morning, we awoke to a bright, cloudless sky. Our home has many windows that let in the bright sunshine on clear days, so on days like this we frequently don’t even have to turn on interior lights. The sunshine streaming in through the windows might not be as bright and strong as our electric lights, but it’s sufficient.

This afternoon, clouds are moving in ahead of anticipated weekend storms. As the clouds build, we alternate between bright sunshine and darkening shade. In some rooms, we’re turning on lights to counteract the game of peekaboo the sun seems to be playing.

When a storm system actually arrives, though, I expect a very different story. The front will solidly entrench itself, and heavy storm clouds will block the sun. In our home, we’ll have to use the lights that do not receive much use during a sunny stretch.

For so long, Christians in the United States have lived much as we do in our home. We’ve been content with the light of the cloudless or partly cloudy skies of morality, rarely seeing the need to turn on our lights of Christ-likeness. Why? Because we mistakenly equate Christianity and morality or being good Americans, thinking that light is enough.

Clouds of trouble do cover the sun briefly, and we turn on our lights for a while, taking a stand for godliness. But, because the storm has not yet arrived in all of its ferocity, we inevitably turn off our lights of godliness when the sun of morality emerges from the clouds again.

Recently, a political decision was made that has once again blocked the light of morality. While many Christians are in full-fledged panic mode over this decision, the reality is that this is just another bout of cloudiness – maybe even a thunder-shower – ahead of the real storm front.

But, what if we as Christians responded to this shower differently? What if we chose to turn on our lights of godliness once and for all? What if we decided to stop relying on the intermittent light of so-called morality and made a move to operate instead in the consistent and full light of godliness?

It’s a frightening thought for American Christians, to be honest. Such an action would mark us even more profoundly than morality ever did, perhaps even expediting our progress toward persecution.

But, it would also establish us firmly in a light that can never be dimmed.

The light of morality, grounded in a false belief that man is inherently good, was destined to be extinguished. Scripture reminds us that all goodness is bound up in Christ – man is sinful, not good. Without Christ, even the most moral of Americans will eventually bow to the lie of equality.

Do I like the decision that was made? No. Has it robbed reason to rejoice? Again, no. On the contrary, it has actually given me reason to rejoice. Why? Because now a few more Christians will choose to move from the fading light of morality into the never-failing light of godliness. They will grow closer to Christ through it. They will become stronger witnesses for Him because of it. And more of the lost and dying in this world will come to saving faith as a result of it.

And that, my friends, is why I rejoice, even in the face of those inevitable storm clouds.

This morning as I reread this old post, I’m struggling with the fact that the lost and dying in our country currently feel utterly hated by Christians. And it’s all because so many American Christians are claiming a political light instead of the Light of Christ.

I do not remember what political decision was handed down at the time I initially wrote this post. I could easily look it up based on the original publication date, but the fact of the decision would distract from the truth here: many who claim the Name of Christ are once again basking in a false light, and in the process so many who desperately need the love of Christ instead want nothing to do with Him. Because of us. Oh, how that breaks my heart! Utterly and completely!

Friends, I’m not saying we can’t have political preferences. But when will we realize that those preferences have to take a back seat to our allegiance to Christ? When will we start living in the true Light and share that Light and His love with those in desperate need of it? When will we realize that circumstances will never give us true light? That our preferences are a false light? Only Jesus is Light. ONLY JESUS. Let’s let Him and His love be our only light!

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

My Certainty

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Oh my word, how I needed this reminder this morning! Once again, I am thankful for the record of what God has taught me in the past so I can continue to move forward in growth. And finding certainty in Him is definitely an area where He keeps pushing me to dive deeper and grow more.

Uncertainty. Don’t you just love it. Never knowing what’s around the next bend? Not being able to plan and anticipate?

Okay, if that excited you and made you say, “Yes! I do love it!” then I will go ahead and admit something right now – I don’t understand you. I may still love you, and I will probably try to draw on your strength and excitement when I’m overwhelmed by uncertainty. But I just cannot understand you.

No, I do not always have to have all of the answers, nor do I insist on a crystal clear path at all times. Admittedly, surprises are fun, and the unexpected keeps life interesting and exciting. But that’s not the same as uncertainty.

Uncertainty is knowing that there is something around the corner – and possibly even knowing what it is – but not really being able to predict how it will impact life. If I know that something uncertain is ahead of me, I want to at least have the chance to do something productive to prepare for the uncertainty.

It’s like knowing that tornado season is coming around. I’m an Arkansan, which means tornado season is a given. I do not know when storms will come, but I know they will. And although I cannot guarantee my family’s safety during a tornado, I can do practical, productive things to prepare. I can make sure that we all know where to go to take cover quickly and smoothly. I can make sure necessities are easy to grab. I can prepare.

The problem comes when I see uncertainty on the horizon and cannot do a thing about it. I can’t prepare. I can’t plan. I can only wait. Wait in the uncertainty.

That’s exactly where the Lord puts me from time to time. Why? Because I’m finding my certainty in activity. In preparation. In doing something. What does He want instead?

He wants to be my certainty.

Oswald Chambers says it quite well in My Utmost from His Highest.

Certainty is the mark of a common-sense life; gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways…

Ouch. I tried to argue with that rationale this week. I hoped that I could look at 1 John 3:2, the focal verse for the devotional, and determine that Chambers was out of context with his deductions. But no, he wasn’t. And I was stuck.

I had been living a common-sense life. The Lord was – and is – calling me to a life filled with Him. A life in which my only certainty is Himself. Not circumstances. Not preparation. Not clear answers or firm direction.

Just Himself.

Where is your certainty today? If it is anywhere but in Christ Himself, He will push you into circumstances that challenge your common-sense life. And it hurts. But it’s worth it.

Will you join me in “gracious uncertainty”? Together, let’s make our Lord and Savior our only certainty.

Posted in Faith Nuggets, Thoughts, Thoughts from Scripture

Obedience of the Small

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Some days I reread my old posts and wonder what I was thinking. Other times, I am encouraged by remembering what God has taught me in the past. This is one of those encouraging lessons.

During my time in the religion department at Ouachita Baptist University, I had the privilege of taking a biblical interpretation course. Dr. Hays taught us to take a passage and see its layers. Simply by reading, reading again, and reading yet again, he showed us how new details could stand out to us even when we thought we had exhausted every avenue of thought in a verse or passage.

Noticing Details

I have not always exercised that developed eye for details, keeping it in shape to see the depths Dr. Hays taught us to see. Even so, there are times when things jump out at me because I have learned to take a second, third, and fourth look at passages.

Take this verse, for instance:

So they established a decree to circulate a proclamation throughout all Israel from Beersheba even to Dan, that they should come to celebrate the Passover to the Lord God of Israel at Jerusalem. For they had not celebrated it in great numbers as it was prescribed. 2 Chronicles 30:5

This passage rests in the middle of the story of Hezekiah’s reforms. As one of the few “good” kings of Judah, Hezekiah had decided that it was time for the kingdom to return to serving and worshiping God in holiness and purity. In 2 Chronicles 29, we see Hezekiah prodding the less-than-enthusiastic priests and Levites and motivating the people to cleanse their hearts in repentance and worship. It takes a bit of work, but finally we get to the point where the people have been purified, and they are ready to celebrate a nation-wide Passover for the first time in many generations.

So, what stands out to me here? The very end of the verse. “For they had not celebrated it in great numbers as it was prescribed.” (emphasis mine)

Do you know what that indicates?

Some still celebrated.

Celebration of the Few

The temple had been in various states of disrepair over the decades, and many years passed with priests completely unable to perform their duties. Yet it seems that some people possibly still faithfully celebrated the Passover.

If this is true, how must it have felt year after year for those few? They were being faithful. They were being obedient. Yet I cannot help but think that some of them must have longed for something they had never experienced – a Passover like God’s people held in the very beginning. A Passover with the whole community. A Passover in great numbers.

But they did not let those longings keep them from obedience. They persevered. They celebrated. They worshiped. They persisted in obedience. Even when the great numbers focused their attention and energy elsewhere.

We have no details showing us how life was for the small numbers who continued in worship. There is no story chronicling their faithfulness, other than the recognition that prophets still existed and the Word of God was still being proclaimed, even if to mostly deaf ears. But the normal everyday faithful aren’t really even hinted at until this moment, and even here it is just a passing statement that only infers their existence.

What About Us?

It is not glorious to obey in small numbers. In fact, it is just the opposite. It is lonely. It is challenging. It goes unnoticed.

But it is worth it.

Are your numbers small right now? Obey anyway. Do you feel isolated? Stand strong anyway. Is obedience challenging? Obey anyway.

The world may never notice. History may never record your perseverance. But it is worth it. Keep going! The day will come when the great numbers will join you. And I guarantee your joy will be complete in that day!