Stepping in the Light

Plastic Bag Flights

Monica Bass — Thu, 24 May 2012 08:52:35 +0000

Perhaps you’ve never wanted to fly. I have.

Actually, what I most wanted was to parachute. I think I must have been about six or seven when I learned about parachutes and how they work. Ready to experience the thrill for myself, I found two ready-made chutes (a.k.a. plastic grocery bags) in the kitchen drawer and persuaded my sister to go parachuting with me off the top of our backyard swing set.

Quite honestly, it was a disappointing adventure. No broken bones, but no working chutes either.

Majestic wings

God offers us a greater thrill than parachuting—mounting up with wings as eagles.

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.—Isaiah 40:31

There’s something majestic about this offer. Something so appealing that even though we hate the condition (waiting on the Lord), we all claim the verse. We collect eagles, bookmarks, plaques, and other miscellaneous items that help us visualize the reality of this incredible promise.

Easy wings

But love Isaiah 40:31 as we may, when it actually comes to the time to wait on the Lord, we often go to the kitchen drawer and pull out a different set of wings—easier ones.

And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. Selah.—Psalm 55:6–7

When the pressures mount and we most need wings, why do we wish for dove’s wings when we could have eagle’s wings? Why do we want to flee when we could soar?

It’s like parachuting off the swing set with a plastic bag when you could be flying cross-country in a jet. A disappointing adventure at best.

Escape or soar?

Can I confess? I struggle with waiting on the Lord. And when I’m weighted with difficulty of any sort, I’m tempted to pull out the ‘ol plastic bag and pray for a speedy escape. I’m all about quick fixes and easy solutions. Sometimes I even pray Psalm 55 and, like David, ask for something as foolish as fleeing to the wilderness. (We have such lofty ambitions when we are self-focused!)

But in those moments, the Lord reminds me of His offer to provide eagle’s wings—to renew my strength and help me soar by riding the currents of the tempest.

And all I have to do is wait on Him.

Why would we reach for wings to escape when we can have wings to soar?

Do you need wings today? Choose the eagle’s wings.

What I Learned about My Mom from a Potbellied Pig

Monica Bass — Sun, 13 May 2012 11:10:40 +0000

“Firsts” have a way of embedding themselves into your memory. First impressions, first experiences, first meetings. And the more startling the “first” is, the more effectively it wedges itself into your mind.

I was nine years old when I saw my first potbellied pig. It was at a petting zoo in Pennsylvania where our family was visiting some friends. Frankly, I thought the pig with his belly that barely cleared the ground was cute.

But in the same moment that I saw the pig, my dad’s friend spoke up with another first—an expression that I had never heard before: “Only a mother could love that face.”

I took a second look at the pig’s fat wrinkled face and silently conceded that maybe our friend had a point. We moved on to see the pigmy goats, but I kept thinking about the pig and about the expression I had heard.

Only a mother…

To that point, it hadn’t really crossed my mind that there may be reasons a person would have to work to love me. (Yes, I was conceited.) Neither had I considered that mothers have a reservoir of love that surpasses common reasons of endearment. In that instant, I realized how much of my mother’s love I took for granted.

I’m wiser to my own faults now than I was when I was nine. And over the years, there have been more than a few times that I have had reason to be thankful for my mom’s tender, unconditional love.

In fact, the amazing attribute about my mom is that she not only loves me, but she loves so many others as well—my siblings, nephews, brother-in-law, extended family, church family, young Christians, ladies in her Bible study, girls in her Sunday school class, people in her community who she is laboring to lead to Christ—even people who have resisted her love, but she gives it anyway.

My mom has patterned a love for me that I want to offer to others—a Christ-like love that points people to the Christ that develops it.

To this day, when I see a potbellied pig (which isn’t very often), I remember that statement about the face that only a mother can love. And when I hear that statement (which also isn’t very often), I think of a potbellied pig.

Actually, more often than I encounter pigs or hear about a mother’s love, I thank the Lord for my mom and for her unconditional love. And I ask the Lord to stretch the limits of my love for others.

Thank you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

When Decisions Won’t Bend the Trail

Monica Bass — Mon, 07 May 2012 20:00:16 +0000

Seven years ago, I stood under a star-studded sky in central Texas and made a decision. With a tinge of dramatic anticipation, I looked to Heaven and prayed my own paraphrase of Jeremiah 26:14: “Lord, do with me as seems good in Your sight.” And then I offered a particularly painful area to Him.

But the outcome of that decision wasn’t quite what I had hoped.

Turning Points

I learned early on that spiritual decisions make spiritual turning points. And turning points are usually exciting. There is a surge of joy in Holy Spirit-prompted surrender, and there can be a rush of anticipation in the biblically-rooted change sure to follow.

So seven years ago, when I knew that I needed this surge of joy and longed for a fresh sense of grace, I made a decision to surrender.

What happened next was…disappointing.

Actually, nothing happened.

No surge of joy.

No rush of anticipation.

No sense of renewed grace.

In reality, the decision I made in Texas seven years ago was but a reiteration of a decision I had made years previous. I had already surrendered every area of my life to Christ. And I had even surrendered that particular area. Rewording and renewing my surrender wasn’t going to change God’s will in this area.

Decisions make for excellent turning points. But they don’t work so well as path-benders. They are needed in directing our steps in God’s will. But they can’t be used to manipulate His will.

Mile Markers

Last week, I had the opportunity to revisit that decision spot. This time, I stood under the afternoon Texas sun and reflected on the past several years.

Looking back, I can see many changes the Lord has worked in my life through the area I surrendered to Him. No pivotal or spectacular moments of change—just steady growth and maturity brought by His Spirit. In fact, there were many, many days that I simply renewed my decision to trust the Lord to work in ways I couldn’t see.

And He did!

In my disappointment at not seeing immediate change or sensational growth, I missed noticing what the Lord was doing in my life through the daily discipline of trust.

Early decisions may provide immediate joy in surrender. But as we purpose to live out those commitments, we experience another joy—the joy that comes only through daily discipline.

Sometimes decisions are turning points, and sometimes they are mile markers. They are never trail-benders.

Sometimes—most often, in fact—they are daily steps toward an amazing, God-designed destination.

Where There’s a Will, There’s a Won’t

Monica Bass — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 01:31:35 +0000

Trust my grandma to come up with a clever spin on a common phrase. (She is the same grandma who has invented words like encosegrator, grusel, and snitherwoo, and she has developed complete definitions to their various forms of speech.)

Anyway, one of my grandma’s family-famous lines is, “Where there’s a will, there’s a won’t.”

She uses it to express a humorous mode of stubbornness, changing a classic on perseverance and ingenuity to the all-too-common reality of obstinacy.

In truth, though, my grandma is right—and twisting her twist, her statement does apply to making a way. Where there is a will to do something, there must also be a won’t to do any competing thing.

In other (and better) words, sometimes we have to say “no” in order to say “yes.”

Reaching a goal has always required discipline, focus, and perseverance. And for me, a self-acclaimed sufferer of attention deficit disorder, these have never been easy. I want to say “yes” to everything—every opportunity, every idea, every worthwhile time investment or activity.

But I’m learning that saying “yes” to everything is really a delayed form of saying “no” to the truly important things.

And, especially, I’m learning that where there is a will to accomplish what God has for my life today, there is a won’t to involve myself in any competing distraction.

Accomplishment and stubbornness go together. Focus and progress are friends.

I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.—Philippians 3:14

Too Many Bozos

Monica Bass — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 00:39:52 +0000

It’s driving me crazy—today’s date rings with significance, but I can’t think of why. First, I thought it was perhaps a friend’s birthday. But when I texted my sister to verify, she corrected me. Sure enough, a look at my calendar for next month, and my friend’s birthday is written right there on another day. A flip back at this month, however, and today’s date is blank.

This must be carry-over from when I used to try to remember every date of possible significance. For real.

At one time, I knew when every pet we had ever had was born…and when they were sold or given away. I knew the birthday of everyone I knew, and probably what day they came over for dinner as well. I carefully kept a mental catalog of any date of significance that I thought I may someday want to refer to.

Because I raised dairy goats, some of these dates truly were at least briefly significant. (It’s good to know how old the kids are when you are selling them.) But I think in the end, I just had “too many Bozos.”

Years ago, we had a book of children’s stories. My favorite was of a little boy named Danny Drake (pictured above) who desperately wanted a puppy. He already had a name picked out—“Bozo.” Unfortunately, his mother would not allow him to get a dog. To assuage his grief and fill his need for a pet, he found puppy-substitutes—a frog, a mouse, a colony of ants, and he affectionately named them all Bozo. In a series of pet-caused disasters, Danny’s mother banned the other pets one by one. But in the end, she told him that he had “too many Bozos,” and she allowed him to get a puppy. (As you can see, it was a heart-warming story with a happy ending.)

Today’s frustration is probably carry-over from the old days, one of the “goat dates” that somehow etched itself in my mind. Too bad it’s significance didn’t stay with it.

Before you fault my propensity for memorizing dates, I would hasten to add that there were benefits to this practice. The upside was that I was able to remember usually-forgotten anniversaries of true significance—like when widows in our church lost their husband, or when friends had major life-changing events.

The downside was that my mind was so cluttered with meaningless dates I finally lost track of most of them.

I now keep my dates in a calendar. And I’ve limited my calendar to holding only the truly significant dates.

But what is it about today’s date that is ringing a bell even though my calendar page is empty? And why would I share such frustration with you?

I write this post for three reasons:

Its silliness is a frustration-releaser—you know, a kind of therapy to recover from my OCD tendencies.
If I know you and today is your birthday or another significant event in your life, I’m hoping you’ll tell me!
It is a good reminder of the beauty of simplicity…and calendars. Sometimes full minds are a signal of overcrowded lives. I’m thankful I let the Bozos go.

Hey, I think I just remembered! Today was the due date for my apologetics research project two years ago. At least, I think it was…

Does God Care about Your Comfort?

Monica Bass — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 00:53:08 +0000

You’ve heard the quote: “God is more concerned with our character than our comfort.”

It’s a true statement, but it’s not the whole story.

God’s concern with our comfort depends on what kind of comfort we are talking about.

Do we mean that it is His job description to provide us with a comfortable, trouble-free life? No. That is impossible in a sin-cursed world; and frankly, it wouldn’t contribute to our Christian growth.

But do we mean that He wants us to know spiritual and emotional comfort through the difficulties we face? Absolutely!

God doesn’t promise to make our lives comfortable, but neither does He desire for us to be miserable. In the midst of our pain, He desires to bring His comfort, wrapping us in His grace.

He is the God of all comfort:

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort—2 Corinthians 1:3

He comforts us so we may comfort others:

Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.—2 Corinthians 1:4

He is mindful of us:

The LORD hath been mindful of us: he will bless us…—Psalm 115:12

He considers our troubles and knows our soul in adversity:

I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy: for thou hast considered my trouble; thou hast known my soul in adversities;—Psalm 31:7

He, Himself, is the Comforter:

And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever—John 14:16

I would say that God cares deeply about our comfort. And He longs to give it freely to aching, troubled hearts.

Are you in pain? Go to the God of all comfort. He cares for you.

Book Review: Fighting for Dear Life

Monica Bass — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 11:36:43 +0000

We all believe in the sanctity of our own lives. But what about the lives of others? What about the lives of those who don’t benefit us? What about the lives of those who actually inconvenience us?

Today marks seven years since Terri Shiavo passed away—a result of a forced dehydration and deliberate withholding of care. Terri’s death and the proceedings leading to it mark a slippery slope of reasoning that threatens to bring our nation to frightening depths.

In Fighting for Dear Life, author Attorney David Gibbs III reveals an inside legal perspective of Terri’s fight for life. He shares what he saw firsthand, what he did to change the situation, and why the outcome is important to the life of every American.

I picked up this book one evening a few months ago while attempting to “wind down” for the night. Several hours later, I finished with bleary eyes and a fresh perspective on the value of every life.

With strong, communicative writing, Attorney Gibbs factually shares the details of this case and his personal meetings with Terri. Regardless of your view on government intervention of “family affairs,” this book details facts that were unknown by and inaccessible to the public at the time of Terri’s death.

It reveals a level of civilized barbarity that should shock every American to a fresh commitment to define life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness by God’s standard and to defend every life which God protects.

You can purchase the book from the Christian Law Association (close to the end of the page) or from Amazon.

(Note: none of these links are affiliate links. I just believe this book is a beneficial, and even a needed, read in America today.)

A Good Day for Me

Monica Bass — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 04:43:05 +0000

Several years before I was born, an eighteen-year-old girl was visited in the hospital by an old friend from high school friend named Dody. In the time that had passed since they had seen each other, Dody had changed, and Joanne couldn’t help but notice.

“Dody, your face looks so…so pretty.”

“That’s because Jesus has changed my life. I trusted Him, and He has changed me.”

Dody’s countenance of joy was so compelling that as soon as Joanne was released from the hospital, she made a call to the Baptist pastor of the church where her grandmother had attended and asked for an appointment.

Four days later, Joanne sat in the pastor’s office and basically asked him, “What must I do to be saved?” She told him that she knew she needed God in her life, and she wanted to know how to know Him. Opening his Bible, the pastor showed her how she could have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Joanne trusted Christ that afternoon—March 28, 1978.

In the weeks and months that followed, Joanne’s life was transformed. God put an unquenchable hunger in her soul for Himself. Almost every evening, she would open her Bible and read, staying up until the wee hours of the morning thirsty for God’s Word and His truth. Ladies in her new church reached out to her, providing both friendship and discipleship.

As I remembered this morning that today marks thirty-four years since Joanne first trusted Christ as her Saviour, I quickly recognized that March 28, 1978 was a good day for me.

Joanne is my mom, and I’m eternally thankful for her salvation. My life would be unspeakably different had she not met Christ.

There are a lot of people that I wish I could thank for this special day: Dody, the pastor who led my mom to Christ, the pastor who led her in growth, the ladies who discipled her, and many more I’m sure whom I haven’t heard of. They had no idea when they faithfully ministered to a needy nineteen-year-old that they were actually helping someone who wasn’t even born yet—me! Remembering them makes me want to be a faithful soulwinner and discipler.

But I also thank my mom—for choosing to grow spiritually and seek God personally, for loving God’s Word and nurturing a hunger for it in my life, for valuing truth and committing to genuine spiritual growth, for walking with God and remaining faithful to Him.

Thank you, Mom. Happy Spiritual Birthday!

2 in 1 Book/Curriculum Review: The Choice Is Yours

Monica Bass — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 01:30:28 +0000

Several years ago, I was volunteering in an overcrowded church nursery that included ages 0–2. A young mother dropped off her two boys, and we nursery workers looked for the best way to make room for them. Because the oldest son seemed like he would be willing to play alone, we put him into one of the cribs. He really was too old for a crib, but it seemed a good way to contain him at the moment.

The boy played contentedly in the crib for several minutes and then suddenly said, “Hey, I’m in the crib! Why am I here?”

We laughed and moved him out. But I think all of us sometimes find ourselves in a different position than we ever imagined we would be. After months or years of making choices that lead us to our destination, we suddenly realize that we did not get to where we wanted to go. Only then do we stop and cry out, “Hey, I’m here in the crib. Why am I here?”

Unlike the two-year-old in the nursery, it’s not our circumstances that put us there. It is our choices.

In The Choice Is Yours, Mrs. Terrie Chappell points out that life is a series of choices. And the outcomes of our lives are the outcomes of those choices. She points to twelve powerful choices that have the power to shape our destinies and direct our steps into God’s will for our lives.

I had the privilege of helping with the manuscript of this book before it was released last summer. I appreciate the emphasis in the book on our choices (which we can control) and not our circumstances (which we often can’t control).

Over the past several months, Striving Together Publications has adapted this book into a ladies curriculum—the first-ever such curriculum for us to publish. As I helped to edit the curriculum, I found myself once again thankful for the truths spelled out in its pages.

The big takeaway from both the book and the curriculum is described in the subtitle: “Life happens. Walking with God is a decision.” Each chapter of the book and each lesson of the curriculum highlights a specific choice and practical steps that we can take to choose a life outcome of joy and purpose.

I was thrilled when the book was published, and I’m doubly excited that the curriculum is now available. If you’re looking for a Scripture-packed resource for personal growth in a purposed and meaningful walk with God, this book will encourage you. If you’re looking for a resource for a ladies group, Sunday school class, or Bible study, this curriculum will be a help.

You can order both the book and curriculum from strivingtogether.com. (Discounts are available for quantities of fifty or more in the curriculum student books.)

Larger than the Cloud

Monica Bass — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 11:55:57 +0000

Two years ago this week, I found myself in a craft store in Northern California waiting on some friends. As waiting is what I do best when others are shopping (no, I’m not much of a shopper), I searched for entertainment—anything to help pass time.

My eyes landed on an old book used as a display prop. I brushed aside whatever the book had been displaying and picked up the book. Its title was taken from a line of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem “Aurora Leigh.” I didn’t get to read much of the book, but I will forever remember the line of the poem: “The blue of heaven is larger than the cloud.”

God knew that at that very moment I had a large cloud hovering over my sky, blocking sunshine and, to a degree, concealing His presence. He also knew that another black cloud, heavy with painful news, was rolling in and would be further covering my sky in less than forty-eight hours.

And in that moment, the Lord used the line from a poem to remind me that He—God Himself—is larger than any cloud that could ever enshroud my way.

I don’t know what cloud may be hanging across your sky, but I know what is larger—God’s love, God’s mercy, and God’s grace.

Have you noticed that Scripture speaks of God’s attributes in terms of immensity? God describes Himself with words of grandeur and abundance—mountains, oceans, heavens, great spans, breath, depth, height.

Thy mercy, O LORD, is in the heavens; and thy faithfulness reacheth unto the clouds. Thy righteousness is like the great mountains; thy judgments are a great deep: O LORD, thou preservest man and beast.—Psalm 36:5–6

For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.—Psalm 103:11–12

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?…Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.—Romans 8:35, 37–39

I’m thankful that the blue of heaven is larger than the cloud. Elizabeth Barrett Browning said so.

But I’m especially thankful that my God is greater than the darkest cloud that can or will ever enter your life or mine. God Himself promised.

Stepping in the Light

Plastic Bag Flights

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What I Learned about My Mom from a Potbellied Pig

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When Decisions Won’t Bend the Trail

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Where There’s a Will, There’s a Won’t

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Too Many Bozos

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Does God Care about Your Comfort?

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Book Review: Fighting for Dear Life

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A Good Day for Me

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2 in 1 Book/Curriculum Review: The Choice Is Yours

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Larger than the Cloud

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