Momentarily Out Of The Teapot

Like the dormouse stuffed in the teapot at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, I’m sticking my head out to make a comment before the lid goes on again.

Thomas A’Kempis, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Christopher Columbus, John Calvin, James Dobson, Jonathan Edwards, Francois Fenelon, Charles Finney, King George IV, Soren Kierkegaard, Adolph Hitler, Seth Hubel, Ignatius, Saint Jerome, C.S. Lewis, Martin Luther, Dwight L. Moody, Florence Nightingale, Obadiah, Peter Lombard, Charles Spurgeon… John Wesley…

As I work writing a book about God’s will and how the Lord guides us, I’m reading books by all the above folks.

Actually, I’m not reading all their books,

I’m skimming for quotes.

Looking for stuff that helps me know how far off track my own ideas are when compared to the ideas from authorities of the past. But more than that, I’m quoting these guys to make myself sound as though I’m a thorough researcher, and an authority in myself.

I’m such a fucking fake!

I cull ideas from spiritual giants and quote them because I’m so shallow and devoid of devotion myself. I read and read and read but by and large I have no idea what these guys are talking about.

I think John Wesley states the thrust of my book better than I can myself:

Servants, as they must do their Master's work, so they must be for any work their Master has for them to do: they must not pick and choose, this I will do, and that I will not do; they must not say this is too hard, or this is too mean, or this may be well enough let alone; good Servants, when they have chosen their Master, will let their Master choose their work, and will not dispute His will, but do it.

Christ has many services to be done, some are more easy and honorable, others more difficult and disgraceful; some are suitable to our inclinations and interests, others are contrary to both: in some we may please Christ and please ourselves, as when he requires us to feed and clothe ourselves, to provide things honest for our maintenance, yes, and there are some spiritual duties that are more pleasing than others; as to rejoice in the Lord, to be blessing and praising of God, to be feeding ourselves with the delights and comforts of Religion; these are the sweet works of a Christian.

But then there are other works wherein we cannot please Christ but by denying ourselves, as giving and lending, bearing and forbearing, reproving men for their sins, withdrawing from their company, witnessing against wickedness, when it will cost us shame and reproach; sailing against the wind; parting with our ease, our liberties, and accommodations for the Name of our Lord Jesus.

It is necessary, Beloved, to sit down and consider what it will cost you to be the Servants of Christ, and to take a thorough survey of the whole business of Christianity, and not engage hand over head, to you know not what.

First, See what it is that Christ expects, and then yield yourselves to His whole will: do not think of compounding, or making your own terms with Christ, that will never be allowed you.

Go to Christ, and tell Him, Lord Jesus, if You will receive me into Your house, if You will but own me as your Servant, I will not stand upon terms; impose upon me what conditions You please, write down Your own articles, command me what You will, put me to any thing You see as good; let me come under Your roof, let me be Your Servant, and spare not to command me; I will be no longer my own, but give up myself to Your will in all things.

I come nowhere near that level of devotion or dedication.

It’s hard for me to write a book about what I don’t live.

One chapter may come easy. Did you notice that I include Adolph Hitler in my list of authorities to quote?

Yes, I’m writing one chapter entitled, Kooks And The Will Of God—it’s about people who have committed atrocities or did kooky things while claiming God told them to.

That’s a chapter I think I may be able to handle.

Changing topics:

One day last week I pulled a 24-hour shift as caregiver for a family member who is seriously ill and in excruciating pain.

I feel so helpless to see her suffer so.

It’s frustrating on a couple of levels.

First, it infringed on my personal comfort. I did not feel free to smoke my pipe in her house so I had to stand outside in the rain to smoke. No place to sit without getting my ass soaked. And to stand causes my feet to swell, burn and sting. Besides, I could not sleep so I stayed awake for the whole time in the unfamiliar surroundings; and I did not want to sit on the furniture because they have two inside dogs and a cat and I feared getting fleas from those creatures.

The sick patient complains less than I do.

Another thing on a more serious level. Some well-meaning Christian spent $50 to buy her a tape-player from some tv preacher who says God will cure her if only she believes hard enough and eliminates any person who sends off negative vibrations.

Negative? Who me?

If I did not have negative thoughts, I’d be a walking carrot.

Hardly ever have any other kind.

But I bit my tongue and said nothing about the $50 tape worm preacher. Hey, if it gives the patient some comfort in her misery, who am I to douse hope. She even plays this thing in her sleep for subliminal reinforcement.

I doubt if a sickroom is the best place to combat heresy.

Is a false hope better than no hope?

Or maybe I’m just a wimp who did not speak out when I should have.

In one of our conversations she told me something that frightens me—she’s two payments behind on her mortgage. Still owes more than three times the value of our home when it was new!

Because last month my two elder sons lost the home they’d lived in for 50+ years to foreclosure, the thought that my daughter is behind on her house payments scares the hell out of me.

If it can happen to them, it could happen to Ginny and me—I fear this even though we have never missed or been late with our mortgage payment. Besides that, another scary thing happened: a director at Ginny’s office found her job abolished without notice last week. And this came the day after a major triumph in that lady’s department.

One day celebrating, the next day on the street.

While none of these things directly affect Ginny and me, yet to see trouble to people close by terrifies me.

While John Wesley and other spiritual giants relish full commitment to Christ and resolve to follow His will at any cost, I covet comfort.

I want my chair, my pipe, my coffee mug at hand, my book in my lap while I nap.

I’m 70 years old and I want my own way.

I fear the troubles of this world.

And I fear that following Christ fully may rock my boat.

I’m a Christian scaredy-cat.

But, for all that, I hold on.

Christ is my Lord.

I can’t claim a lot of faith, but I hold on. I think that for me it’s more a matter of pig-headedness than religious faith. When I read the Scripture, it more often condemns me than comforts, but I hold on. As Job said, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him”.

Nevertheless, faith makes me nervous.

I walk by faith—on eggs.

But, what say the Scriptures?

“Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you”. —Isaiah 46:4

“Those that be planted in the house of the LORD shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing to shew that the LORD is upright”. —Psalm 92:14

I don’t know about the fruit and flourishing part of that verse, but I qualify as being fat.

But the interesting phrase in that verse is why the Lord deals with the aged—“To shew that the LORD is upright”.

OK. Now I’ll go back in the teapot till after Ginny and I get back from our 41^st Anniversary trip out camping in cabin in the deep piney woods. Maybe walking in the deep woods will get my head more attuned than reading more Whats-Hz-Name.