For my Dad

I play the alto sax.  I started playing the saxophone when I was 9 years old.  If I've done my math correctly I've played the sax for …  a really long time.  There were years when I never opened the case.  There were years when I practiced every day.  I'm not an amazing musician, but I'm not bad to listen to either. 

I own an enviable saxophone. I own a Selmer Mark VII, which to sax players is pretty cool.  My parents bought it for me my senior year of high school.  In my mind though, it was a gift from my dad.  I had a Bundy saxophone, which in simplistic terminology is a basic beginner horn.  By my senior year, Mr Bundy was pretty beat up, and I was beyond what it offered.  I was preparing to go to college and I promised my dad that if he bought me a new horn I would play all four years of college.  

The search began.

We didn't live in a large city, and to try out saxophones of the caliber we were looking at, we had to travel to the closest large city which was about an hour away.  So we would drive into the city, go to the music store and bring home an instrument for me to play for a week.  Then we would drive back, and exchange that sax for a different brand of equal quality.  We did that mulitple times.  My choices were finally narrowed down to the Selmer and a Buffet saxophone.  The differences in the two were described (according to my recollection) in that the Selmer was better for Jazz, and the Buffet was better for concert play.  I basically played concert, though I was involved in our high school jazz band.  I wasn't proficient at jazz. The whole making up what you are to play just by being given a key signature was a bit beyond me. The Buffet seemed the more logical choice, as well as more within my parents financial boundaries. 

I don't remember which horn I had been playing that final week.  I just knew my dad was going to the store alone.  He was taking back the instrument I had been playing and he would return with the instrument that I would get to keep.  I don't remember the whole conversation, but I do remember telling my dad my heart longed for the Selmer, but I liked the Buffet as well, and I would be happy either way.  I believed my dad would bring home the Buffet. 

But he brought home the Selmer.

I've never felt so spoiled in my life.  It's the one gift that always, I mean always, reminds me of the depth of love my parents, and especially my dad has for me.  I still play that sax.  I'm a member of our woship team, and toodle away every other week.  I should practice more.  The reality is that I play for me.  And my dad, though he lives several states away and doesn't hear me play.  That sax makes a sweet sound.  Admittedly, with a more proficient player the sound would be sweeter, but it couldn't ring out with anymore love.

Whenever I think about my saxophone and my dad's love, I am always reminded that God loves me even more; that he sacrificed greatly for me, even more than my own father.   Accepting God's love has never been difficult because I was gifted a tremendous example.  I am blessed beyond measure to be given an earthly father that loved so deeply.  May the sweet songs I play on my saxophone be, forever, a gift of worship and gratitude.

Rest and Peace

My husband evidently didn't have a very restful night.  I had no idea.  He evidently woke up in the middle of the night and struggled to go back to sleep.  I snoozed away, unaware of his predicament.  Generally these roles are reversed.  I'm the one waking up, getting up to go to the rest room, or throwing off covers, and then waking up to snuggle back under, shifting positions this way or that, adding a pillow or throwing one aside. 

As I thought about our typical sleep patterns God nudged my spirit. I was thankful for a good night's sleep but I became more aware of a greater gift that He graciously gives.  I have peace; I have rest.  When I lay down at night, the worries and concerns of life do not overwhelm me and keep me awake fretting.  When issues come to mind, I pray over them and am learning to truly leave them with Jesus. 

God's Word reminds me over and over that I can trust Him.  From the very beginning, in the Garden of Eden, God intended to be the one to carry the weight of our lives.  He didn't plan for us to become familiar with our inadequacies, and limitations.  He didn't want us to be overwhelmed with the repsonsibility of having to decipher good and evil.  From our creation, God just wanted to provide for us, bless us, and enjoy us.  One of His deepest desires for us is peace and rest. 

Psalm 4:8 says, "In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety." God the Father promised the Israelites, "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." (Exodus 33:14)  Jesus promised "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27) 

My heart is flooded with gratitude, for God is providing a taste of Eden for me.  God gives me peace and rest.  I can live out this day in celebration, for the Lord is providing safety in Him.  God is with me: Glorious Emmanuel. And Jesus' peace is holding worry, anxiety and fear at bay.  I declare with the Psalmist, "But I trust in you, Lord; I say, 'You are my God.'" (Psalm 31:14)

Starting Point

I do not consider myself a whiz in the kitchen.  I would say I’m a passable cook, but the idea of preparing food for others always makes me a bit anxious.  I’m comfortable making a meal for my family because I figure they’ve gotten used to what I create.  Others…. I’m not so sure.  Our church, like many others, provides food for families in need.  Perhaps someone has been ill, or a baby has been born, or they are packing to move.  My name is on the list.  I get the emails asking if I’d like to participate.  There is always a bit of hesitation in my spirit because I wonder what in the world do I make, that someone else will enjoy. 

When I recently read the story of Jesus feeding the four thousand in Mark 8, I knew exactly how the disciples felt.  Jesus doesn’t come right out at the beginning of the story and tell the disciples that they need to get cooking.  He presents the circumstance that there is a large group of people who have been listening to Jesus and hanging out with all of them for three days.  Jesus has noticed that the food the people had brought with them is now gone, and they are hungry.  It is time for all those people to go home, but Jesus is concerned that some of them have a long ways to travel, and it is just too far to go without having been fed first.   

The disciples are quick to generate excuses about why they shouldn’t be the ones to sign up to take a meal.  Oh how I know those excuses.  “I don’t have the ingredients on hand, Lord!”  “I need that meat to feed my own family!”  “I already have too much on my plate.”  “I have been helping this whole time, Lord, I’m exhausted!”  “Someone else will step forward, Jesus, shouldn’t I allow someone else the opportunity to help out?” “I think you are asking too much of me. I just don’t know how I will be able to get that done.”  I am saddened by how easily I identify with the disciples’ struggle; how I understand too completely that it just sounds like too much work, it’s too much hassle, and what is being asked, doesn’t seem to offer much personal reward.

My heart fills with gratitude over the graciousness of Jesus’ response.  Jesus doesn’t condemn or criticize the disciples for their attitude.  He didn’t remind them “you are to love your neighbor.”  He accepted where they were and began the process of helping them move forward by asking “How much bread do you have?” (Verse 5, NLT)  Jesus gave them a starting point. And then Jesus began to go to work.

Jesus does the same for me.  When I head into my whining, wee-bit-of-panic mode Jesus accepts me where I am and begins to turn my heart so that my attitude aligns with His. How gentle God’s Spirit is as He tenders my heart toward submission to His will.  He often reminds me of all I have been blessed with; or He reveals a pocket of time I had forgotten was available; or he fills my heart with a longing to do and be more than I had previously imagined. 

Just as the disciples learned, my eyes are not to be neither on myself, nor on the circumstance or need in front of me.  My focus is to be on Christ, what He wants to accomplish and what will bring Him glory.  The disciples didn’t make the miracle happen.  They provided what they had on hand to the Savior, and Jesus provided what was ultimately needed. 

They just provided what they had on hand: that was the starting point.  That needs to be my starting point as well.  Sometimes I have food to prepare on hand.  Sometimes I have a listening ear.  Sometimes I have a free afternoon to help someone pack, or complete a project, or give their spirit a lift.  Sometimes I have a card I can send.  Sometimes I have something I need to do and I can invite someone to join me. Jesus is asking each of us to trust Him enough to start.  He will take what little we have and provide the necessary miracle that feeds the souls of even the hungriest crowd.  Jesus is asking, “How much do you have?” He’s waiting to get started.