God Who Sees Me

Wednesday night. The children had just fallen asleep. Nathan was out that evening for a rehearsal at church with a worship band. I had the whole house to myself, so I chose to open up my bible study book and spend some time with God and His Word.

Low rumbles of an incoming storm filled the air as I paged through Beth Moore’s study Genesis through the lives of the Patriarchs of my faith. I read about Hagar, (the maidservant to Abram’s wife, Sarai) and how she had encountered the Living God, who saw her in a time of great difficulty. So powerful was her experience with the LORD that she gave Him the name El Roi, God who sees me. Beth Moore then posed the question: “Is there any particular reason why that name means something special to you right now?”

Right now. I had past experiences that I could draw upon to answer this and yet, at this moment, right now… I covered an undercurrent of guilt for not being able to think of anything to boast about my God by moving on to read the final paragraph of that day’s study.

As I read the sentences, building on this concept of God who sees me, a terrible flash of lightening caused the lights to flicker and vanish. I bolted up and, tripping over a bench that sits next to my couch, positioned myself next to the room where my babes were sleeping in case the booming thunder woke the children. They slept through the succeeding peals of thunder so I proceeded to light candles.

The warm yellow glow of the little flames made the dark home look cozy, and all the more so with the steady thrum of the rain. I opened the curtains to watch the stunning show as lightening danced across the sky. Shame, I thought, the neighbors on that side have electricity. I moved to the other side of the house. The houses just up the hill from our place also had lights. I peered around to see that the building next to our property had an electric glow emanating from the first floor window. Now wait just a minute… I unlocked and opened the front door and was greeted by a blinding flash and two very wet dogs. I poked my head around and, sure enough, the flat directly next door had power.

I came inside and made my way to the power box and flipped the breaker that had been tripped just minutes before. The light in the living room came on immediately, followed by the hum of the fan in the bedroom. I made my way back to the living room, pondering how strange it was that only my place would have been affected by the storm in such a way. Then a thought came to me, the Spirit quietly speaking into my mind and my heart in a way that awed me, excited me, chilled me. “I see you, Nicole.” Immediately I went back to my abandoned question and penned:

“You’ve got my attention, El Roi. You see me. If you would make yourself known to me in the midst of this storm, how much more will you reveal yourself to me in the storms of life.” Whether in a dire situation, like Hagar's, or in the mundane of an evening alone, God is with me, with us.

O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD. You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand! I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! Psalm 139:1-8

He is always watching. He is intimately acquainted with our every moment. Out of His great love this all-powerful Creator wants to share those very moments, good and bad, with us. With me. Lord, thank you for reminding me that You are ALWAYS with me. You ARE El Roi. You ARE God, God who sees me.

Lessons Learned From a Singing Asparagus

It’s a rainy Friday morning. Nathan left for a weekend trip to Johannesburg with his prayer buddies at four this morning. It feels more like a Saturday with the gray and lazy drizzle. As Caleb eats his Cheerios, I feed Adara a mushy bowl of Wheat-Bix and we all watch vibrant vegetables reenact the story of Jonah. The Vegitales Jonah breaks out into his musical number as he retorts that he will not deliver God’s message of mercy to the people of Nineveh.

“No, it cannot be. Your messages are meant for me and my brothers. We are your chosen people. And Nineveh, well, their not!”

He tells the Lord God that He will go anywhere that he is commanded to go…except the one place God has told him to go.

“Nineveh? Oh, Nineveh; NO! Nineveh is where I draw the line!”

Though I have heard this song and this story many times, as I sat on the floor feeding my babies breakfast, I was overwhelmed by Holy Spirit and how this attitude grieves His heart. All too often I find myself, like Jonah, passing judgment rather than dispensing grace. Yet He desires that no one would perish; He longs for lovers who willingly choose to love and serve the One and Only true God. Then why is it, having experienced this overwhelming, undeserved love, that I hesitate when His voice asks me to go…wherever?

“How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent?” Romans 10:14-15a

How many times have I drawn the line, telling God that I will only go so far for Him? With Him? He went all the way to the cross for me, how can I give him any less than my all? O, that in my weakness You still love me, Yahweh, is still incomprehensible to me!

Jonah’s droll but haunting solo reminded me of when I moved to Lesotho and a team member told me that she believed the Holy Spirit was leading her family to a rural mountain village. I remember telling her how brave she was and how I didn’t think I was called to do what she was praying about. As I left her place Holy Spirit gently spoke to my heart, “Are you not called to the mountains because I have not called you there, or because you are unwilling?” I had drawn the line: I felt so justified in having left my home country to live in Lesotho that I decided in my heart, “I have done my part. This is as far as I need to go. I shouldn’t have to live in a remote village; living in the capitol is challenging enough.” I repented and told the Lord that, whether or not He called me to ministry in a remote location or not, I would be willing to go where He sends me.

Oh how merciful that God has not “drawn the line” with me!

“…He who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

He pours into me not just so I can enjoy the inheritance of experiencing His presence in this age and the assurance of the one to come. These are AWESOME realities, and I DO enjoy these! But there is so much more. My experience in Him is so much richer when I live selflessly and pursue the things of His heart, partnering with Him to share this great Love with those who do not know Him. Jesus also has an inheritance in those of us who belong to Him and I can bless Him by pouring myself into adding to the fullness of His inheritance, allowing myself to be a vessel used to “bring many sons to glory.” Not that I am obligated, my relationship with Jesus and my eternal salvation are secure. But it is out of deep love for my Bridegroom King that I desire to go all the way for love.

Oh Lord, I repent of having told You that I will not follow where You lead. Forgive me for my unbelief, and for not trusting Your faithfulness,. Good Shepherd, I choose to follow You wherever You lead. Help me to identify where I have made ultimatums that limit my love for You. I long to give You more of myself. Open my spiritual eyes to know Your heart. Jesus, because of Your great love, you went all the way for me. Beloved, where, and to whom, can I go for you?

Floods in Lesotho

Below are a couple of quotes from an online article regarding the state of Lesotho in light of all of the rain and flooding:

"The UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimates that in some of the worst hit districts up to 60 percent of crops have been destroyed while nationally at least 4,700 livestock, mainly sheep and goats, have died."

"It's going to affect food security in the worst way because Lesotho doesn't produce enough food as it is," Matsiliso Mmojaki, head of the national Disaster Management Authority (DMA), told IRIN."

http://www.irinnews.org/Report.aspx?ReportId=91925

These are just some of the difficulties that the people are facing and the situation will only get worse as harvest time approaches and there is no fruit for the people's labor. Please be praying for the Basotho, that in their great lack and need that they will reach out to the One who can satisfy them.

Summer Evening

It's 6:20pm. Usually we are eating supper or the children are splashing in their evening bath. Tonight we are sitting in the back yard. Caleb asked if he could play outside; "I want to play in the dirt." When his request was granted he asked, "Mommy will you come outside and watch me? Go get Daddy and tell him to come too." So here we are, the damp summer air cooling on our skin, the sparrows doing their evening dance as the day and night music of birds, crickets, and frogs mingle together in a dusk ensemble. Adara laughs as she tosses half a plastic easter egg of dirt on Otis, the dog. Caleb works diligently on a "road." Nathan reads a book to me as I listen to him, and the ensemble, and the sound of about 15 young boys passing by along the road. And I know that God is here. In the children's play and the boys' chatter, in the green, green grass that is growing too fast with the extra summer rains. In the sweet dewy smell as day turns to night. In the story of dragons and quests and the Creator of both. In the freshly made dirt road and the monster truck racing around the bend. He is here, with me, with us. How easy it would have been to miss this moment, to be busy with more pressing things. And yet as I sit here I know the laundry needing to be folded will not protest. The dishes in the sink will not cause grief for the delay. The children's bedtime will not begrudge if we show up late tonight. As I let myself be distracted by joy I find peace, and I find the One who brings it.