The Hammer

"Time to hammer a nail," I thought to myself.   Now, I know there are people who use all sorts of other tools to pound in nails, but I have found in my limited experience, that hammers work best.

I rummaged through the bag where I keep various tools.  There were a number of different tools I came to before I finally lifted out my hammer.  It was looking a bit old and worn, but it still would work to drive the nail.

I'm not a carpenter, but I still figured out how to hammer in a nail.

It is an odd connection, perhaps, but I was studying recently the passage from Isaiah 55:8,9 which tells that God's thoughts are not our thoughts, nor His ways our ways.

I don't know all that that means, but one difference to me is what tools God chooses.  For, if God was a carpenter, He would walk into His tool room and look over His hammers.  Over in the corner there is a mighty sledge hammer -- too heavy for any but His arm to wield.  On a shelf is an expensive claw hammer with just the perfect balance.  To His left is a shiny, new ball-peen hammer.

(We've now come to the end of my knowledge of hammers)...

Looking over these, He will choose none of them.  Instead, He will rummage under a bunch of scraps and pull out an old, rusty hammer that, even when it was new, was one of the cheapest models, but now is well past its prime.

The Lord can see its potential and He chooses it from amongst the other options -- not because there are none better, but because there are none worse.

With that hammer, He will build a mansion that makes the Biltmore look like a one room shack in the mountains of Guatemala.

God always chooses the tools that will give glory to Himself, but He also chooses those tools who make themselves available to His purposes.

It is a blessing.  God doesn't choose to use the Albert Einsteins and Marie Curies of this world.  He chooses to use normal people like you and me.

In the end, it doesn't really matter how great or smart a person you are, it just matters the skill of the Master who is holding you.

Taking My Father's Hand

"Victoria, would you take my hand?"  I asked my two year old daughter as we walked down the stairs together.

Victoria looked over at my offered hand doubtfully.  I wash my hands regularly, so it wasn't dirty, but she still didn't seem too sure of it.  She was walking with her arms crossed, her hand tucked into her armpits.  "No, Dad," she told me after a moment's thought.  "My hands are full."

I suppose my face looked a little sad.  I'm old enough that I don't have to hold hands with anyone for safety reasons, but there are still some people that I enjoy holding hands with and Victoria happens to fall on that list.

Of course, she was right too -- her hands were full, of herself.  It was more that she didn't want to take my hand than that she couldn't.

It makes me think of my relationship with my heavenly Father.  Most of the time, I am content -- even happy -- if He wants to tag-along with me and watch me do my activities during the day.  As long as things are going OK, I don't even think too much about Him, much less pray for His help and guidance.

On the other hand, when trouble comes,  find myself reaching out, clutching for His hand and asking for His help.  The reality is that I need Him far more than I am willing to admit.

All too often I pray, "God please go with me today."  While that sounds fine, I would reach the point where I learn to place my hand in His and tell Him, "Father, I don't know where we're going today, but I will follow wherever you lead."

Honesty

"Oh my," I said to the older woman sitting across from me.  "Your A1C test is really climbing up.  It is up two percent since your last visit.  Are you watching your diet?"

"No, not really," she told me.  "But I do take my pills."

"Oh," I said.  Most of my patients at least act like they are trying to follow their diet, even if they are doing nothing of the sort when they aren't in my office.

She laughed.  "I'll be honest with you.  I'm just not very good at avoiding carbs and I have a real weakness for sweets."

I looked back at my computer, wondering what to do to help her.  Honesty is a start.  If you don't realize that you have problem areas and weaknesses, you will never over come them.

At the same time, admitting failure is not enough.  Confessing sin is only the beginning of repentance. 

There is a reason why there aren't just erasers on pencils, there are pencil points too.  Having erased, we must lift our pencils and write again.

The goal should never be to live in a knowledge of weakness, but to build from that to eventual strength.  Each one of us can move from moments of defeat to lives of triumph.  This won't happen on our own and it won't happen without effort, but by God's grace and with His strength we can make the effort and begin again.

There is a victory to be had in all areas.  Even victory for those with weak wills over the scourge of carbohydrates.

What's on the Menue?

"Mom," Anna asked one day.  "Can I make a meal this weekend?"

That's the sort of question that does not take a whole lot of time to answer for most mothers I know.  The answer is clearly, "Yes."

Anna sat down and came up with a meal plan.  She had all the course laid out, from a Main Dish to the vegetable.  Then, she wrote it up very carefully and posted it on the refrigerator with grand ceremony, quite pleased with herself.

As I read the "Menue," I had to smile a bit.  Anna is a good speller in school, but somehow that didn't quite carry over to all of the items on her list.

I was still pretty pleased and happy with her effort.

It seems to me that when we are happy with a message, we are a lot less likely to pick holes in the style of the message's delivery or shoot the messenger.  When we don't like the message, a flame retardant suit is not sufficient to ward off the flames that follow.

I am reminded of the prophets in the days of the Old Testament.  They were given very hard prophecies for the people to hear, calls to repentance and for the people to turn to God.  The people often hated these communications and persecuted the prophets and even killed them in return.

This is human nature.

It shouldn't be that way.  When someone delivers a message and we find ourselves dissecting the poor grammar of the message, or the stain on the messenger's shirt, we need to ask ourselves what truth is in the message that is speaking to us.

Only with that attitude can we benefit from the message and learn from it.  Only then can we move beyond reading the "Menue" to eating the meal.