To the Little Rebel Who Cries Out, "I Don't Want To!!!"

One warm spring day in the first grade I remember having a smidgen of a headache. I was sitting at my little table in Miss Pam’s room with my little knobby knees underneath my cubbyhole.  Angela sat across from me, and two of our friends sat beside us.  That fat, orange-covered handwriting book lay open in front of me.  (Yes, I still remember the color of that loathsome book.)  The longer I stared at it, the more that little rebel inside of me didn’t want to do it.  Left-handed people should not be subjected to such nonsense nor their creativity confined to fitting letters between those straight blue lines.  That headache just got worse.

I went to Miss Pam who allowed me to go to the office.  I called and convinced my mother that I now had the worst headache of my seven-year-old life, and shortly thereafter I was happily lying on the couch underneath my favorite afghan (the one that’s on my couch now) listening to the loud hum of that old air conditioner at the home of two of the most unsympathetic grandparents you’ve ever seen.  (Of course, they were two of the kindest people, but sharp as tacks I couldn’t get much past them.  This is the same grandmother who when on her deathbed told my husband the story of the time that she spanked me for getting into the pecans she had been shelling.  When he said, “I know that broke your heart to spank her,” Beth’s warm eighty-nine-year-old smile spread across her face, her blue eyes lit up, and in her shaking, Southern gentlewoman drawl she replied, “No . . . I ratha’ enjoyed it.”)

I escaped handwriting that day, but as the saying goes, “I may have won the battle, but I would surely lose the war.”  (Thank heaven!)

It’s funny how I have found myself in that rebellious little place thousands of times since then—the bottom line is this . . . (imagine my whispering voice here – yes, I can whisper – maybe the loud church pew whisper of a blue-haired lady; nevertheless, I am capable of a whisper) . . .  I don’t like grunt work.  (Dear friend, before you roll your eyes, tell the truth!  You’ve complained once or twice about it too.)  Now, don’t get me wrong, I like a little manual labor here and there if it involves a beautiful finished product (or even just an organized closet), but if the ultimate goal isn’t something beautiful or if it’s not fun or interesting or maybe even hard and intellectually stimulating, then there’s a little rebel in me who still cries out, “RUN – make like the wind!  You don’t have to do this!!!”  I know, I know – I’m blessed beyond measure.  I would gladly do grunt work all day every day in this amazing free country that I don’t deserve.  I also know this attitude shows arrogance, pride, lack of humility, immaturity, and selfishness, all rolled up into one feisty redhead.

But EVERYTHING to which the Lord calls me (and I believe calls all of us) involves “grunt work.”  He uses that necessary work to humble us and to refine us.  On the contrary, the enemy of our souls tempts us to be discontent with the “grunt work.”  If he can breed discontent (“I don’t like this work”), then he can breed in us a lack of faith that God is good and ultimately lack of faith in Him at all.  If he can breed arrogance and pride (“I’m too good/too smart/too old  for this work”), then he can breed idolatry (“I’m my own God; thus, I don’t need God.”).

When faced with grunt work this week, remember that God uses grunt work for our good.  Remember to silence the enemy who breeds discontent and instead listen to the One who is trustworthy and always good.  He is passionate that the spirit He has placed within you should be faithful to Him . . .

 “Do you think the Scriptures have no meaning?  They say that God is passionate that the spirit he has placed within us should be faithful to him.  And he gives grace generously.  As the Scriptures say, ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’   So humble yourselves before God.” 
- James 4:5-7a NLT

Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.”- Colossians 3:23 NLT

P.S.  I never quite surrendered to that orange handwriting book.  While it’s legible, to this day, my handwriting is well – ugly.  On the contrary, Part 2 in this series will be about finding beauty in grunt work.

P.P.S. The picture above is of my little right-handed girl who will never get to use all of my left-handed handwriting excuses.  Bless her.  Teaching my child handwriting is one
frustrating hilarious prank on me!

An Idea for Your Women's Ministry

We had a “prayer brunch” for the women at our church on Saturday. “Prayer brunch” might lead one to think, “Women in their pretty dresses, bringing in warm breakfast casseroles, a lot of talking and maybe a little bit of prayer.”  Other than the “warm breakfast casseroles” part, the other couldn’t be farther from the truth.  We gathered, we ate, I read Acts 2:42, and I reminded them of why we were there:

“All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord’s Supper) and to prayer…” (Acts 2:42 NLT).

(See!  The eating part is Biblical after all.)  Then, our leader for the brunch had each woman write on an index card how we could be praying for her (and leave it anonymous).  We threw the little cards in the same basket, and one by one a woman would draw the card out, read it, and then pray aloud right then and there for that woman whose card she drew.

I’m glad my friend was leading instead of me because I always do this thing in which I try to make everyone feel comfortable and say, “You don’t have to pray out loud if you don’t want to…”  But she didn’t say that.  She didn’t force anyone to pray out loud, but she also didn’t let everyone off the hook either.  Of course, the Lord’s hand was in it—emboldening weary or anxious women.  One by one almost every woman in the room prayed out loud—powerful prayers from seemingly timid souls.   Those small, perfectly lined index cards contained big, messy prayers from women believing in an uncontainable God.  There were spiritually bleeding hearts poured out on those cards—hearts begging for humility, for patience, for wisdom, for boldness in their witness, for freedom from addiction, for hearts that love their families and other people more than they love themselves.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. . . .
Blessed are the pure in heart,
    for they will see God.–Matthew 5:3, 8 NIV

The Spirit of God fell and filled that little Sunday school room, and for a little Saturday morning get-together we enjoyed a great unity that can only be found in Christ.  I tried to wrap it up at 12:00 p.m.  I had promised the ladies we would finish at 12:00, but they didn’t want to quit, so for another hour or so we prayed – this time not for ourselves but for our nation – prayers of repentance, for our persecuted brothers and sisters in places all over the world, and for the dark culture that we live in – a culture that masquerades as fun and filling but leaves people abandoned and empty.

The whole thing was simply beautiful.  Young women, older women, single women, married women, poor women, rich women, feisty women, quiet women—I think the only common denominators for all of us were “women” and “Christian.” It was like being wrapped up in the most beautiful patchwork quilt you’ve ever seen—radiant hearts of unique individuals sewn together to make something beautiful, purposeful, and lasting.

“For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”
(Jesus, Matthew 18:20 NIV)

To God be the glory!