A Plague of Tupperware

Do you suspect you may be suffering from a plague of Tupperware? When you open your plastics cupboard, does an avalanche of random containers fall out?  Do you keep lunch meat packaging and margarine tubs, "just in case?"  Do you still have the Tupperware you got for a wedding present from Aunt Tippy in 1979? Are you an empty nester yet still have a cupboard devoted entirely to containers? If you answered yes to two or more of these questions, then you are likely experiencing a plague of Tupperware. 

Don't panic, the Lord is with you. No one has died from this disorder (that we know of) and there are things you can do to extricate yourself before you begin collecting cats and take out containers. The God who led the Israelites from slavery in Egypt can free you from bondage to Tupperware. First, breathe deeply.  Ask the Lord, "Have I perhaps sinned that you have visited this plague upon me?" If not, remember that God only allows such tests to make us stronger. Next gather the containers into one place so that you can see how bad the infestation has become. Keep breathing, God is good. Do you really need two cake takers? Tell the truth. How many teeny tiny containers for salad dressing are enough? Do you still need to keep the cute mustard squirt bottles you bought for the church picnic in 1985? 

Gently remove any and all foreign containers from amongst the ones you know are yours. As you place them in the trash, say these words of release, "Deli meat containers are not keep-worthy." If you feel anxious, these phrases may be helpful, "I can get more containers at the store. They make more containers every day. God is my provider, He will ensure I have ample containers." Take several cleansing breaths.  

Now separate the bottoms from the tops, less like the sheep and goats and more like swim suit separates. Count the bottoms. Make sure you have a top for every, single one.  Refuse to engage in philosophical speculations, like why do I have ten lids for three containers? Where do the missing containers go? Why do I have no life?

Now, keeping your mind firmly anchored in your happy place, remove the tops for which there are no bottoms. Be firm...no waffling or arguing. Tell yourself firmly that you will not find the bottoms later.  For this exercise, the bottoms no longer exist. Put the orphan tops to the side for later donation to Salvation Army. Do the same for the bottoms for which there are no tops. Release any shame that rises up. There is nothing wrong with you, this happens to everyone. God loves you. Imagine the joy a Salvation Army shopper will experience upon finding just the lids she needs. If you don't trust yourself, put them in the trash, perhaps pouring rancid bacon grease over them to prevent a later rescue attempt in a weak moment. It's going to be okay, Aunt Tippy will never know.

After you have put away the now streamlined collection of containers, revel a bit in the new roominess in your cupboard. Reject the thought that now you have room for more containers...this is from the devil. Keep telling yourself that you are just a sinner, saved by grace.  Ask for the Lord to strengthen you, giving you wisdom as well as restraint. Going forward, ask for a hedge of protection to surround you if you come across cute novelty food containers--the ones whose lid only fits the one container. Avoid the plastics aisle at Walmart. 

Remember, in this world you will have tribulation. 

Next I'm tackling the sock drawer.

Smiling, as I cleanse myself of the evil amongst us...

When I grow up...

I have long observed them...those Christians who appear to move consistently from glory to glory, always praising Jesus and having the victory. Their Christianity, as graceful as a dance, usually gets them noticed, promoted to leadership or launched into ministry. Then there's me with my two left feet—stumbling, fearful and tentative—making more mistakes than not. For a long time I thought there must be something terribly wrong with me, as I never could get my act together let alone take it on the road. No matter what classes I took, conferences I attended, books I read, Bible studies I mastered, I never quite attained the level of Christian maturity I desired. Half the time I was afraid I was likely not saved and the rest of the time I was convinced I wasn't. 

In my mind I've known a long time that my hope doesn't lay in 'getting it right,' but don't really believe it. I know I don't believe it because I am surprised and disgusted when I mess up. Old as I am, I've believed that eventually I'd consistently get it right. I really expected to grow up and walk on my own--a functioning, Christian grown-up. But technically there are no grown-up Christians…we are children all, every single day of our sojourn in this life. 

A mature Christian is one who stops saying, "I can do it myself," and humbly waits until God takes his hand before he tries to walk. One who understands that God the Father will always need to hold his hand. My security rests not in my strength or native abilities. It’s not dependent on my talent or intelligence or maturity or spirituality or education. My theology doesn’t have to be completely sussed-out, polished, with no holes or contradictions. Jesus isn't averting His eyes from my childish Christianity. He's not waiting for me to figure Him out. He is gazing intently at me, because He loves me and wants me to grow into what He intended. 

I am so grateful that my access to Him isn't restricted until my anger issues are resolved or my fears relieved. God's not withholding fellowship until I get a grip on my flapping tongue. He sees my bumbling attempts to love and serve Him with the fondness one has when watching a toddler gain life skills. He does not reject me for my failures, but urges me, again and again to get up and try once more. He longs for my company as a bridegroom longs for His bride. He finds me beautiful and takes no notice of that which mars my beauty. The fact that I do not understand this makes it no less true.

His faithful supervision doesn't mean I'm a failure...it means I am never alone; never abandoned; never left to figure stuff out on my own. My part is to resist looking at my ugly, imperfect attempts to follow Him and keep my eyes fixed on Him. I am to believe, to trust, to rest in my expectation that God is good and intends good for those who are His. So I am learning to let go of my unrealistic, unfounded and disappointing expectation that I am someday going to 'arrive' and follow Jesus error-free. That expectation leads me to shame when I fail and pride when I succeed. The old hymn has it right,

I need Thee, O I need Thee;
Every hour I need Thee;
O bless me now, my Savior,
I come to Thee.

Every hour, every minute, every breath...not just in emergency and loss, but in joyful times as well. I dare not take the smallest step until (and unless) my Father takes my hand. Selah

Reset

Last spring I prepared a testimony to share with our church small group. I was reluctant because I've always considered my life uneventful and ordinary. But I began to feel differently as I examined my walk of faith from childhood until now. A pattern emerged of loving oversight, protection, correction and favor. I saw that what at first appeared random has instead been a slow but steady progression as God has drawn me further into His ways. As I wrote my faith journey, His watchful care over my faltering steps became evident, as well as my woeful tendency to wander off the path, into life by habit.

At the beginning of 2019 a prophetic word for the Body was "reset." Reset has the connotation that correction is needed--kind of a do-over. Such a word could feel negative, as if we've messed everything up and must begin again. This might be true of an earthly endeavor, but this is God we're talking about. When God beckons, when He gets our attention and whispers, "remember how you began?" Then a reset becomes an invitation with a promise.

Reset can actually mean many different things. A reset is to set in place again those things I knew when I was first saved that I have begun to forget. Things that have worn away or become commonplace by the wear and tear of daily life. A reset could be a reboot to fully complete a download of necessary updates for my operating system. It could be a sharpening of my gaze to bring the lovely One back into focus, a re-ignition of dwindling fire in my heart, warming me again to passion for Jesus. A reset is a reminder of why I am on this journey in the first place. A re-start of those things I did at first. All that could be overwhelming if it were a challenge to try harder to do all the things. But don't forget the promise... God doesn't invite us into anything He doesn't intend to empower us to do.

The reset is a call to return to first love, to remember 'the things I did at first,' not because God's all about His worker bees, but because He longs for relationship. He knows how easily I slide into habit and calls me back so I may return to love. Yeshua is worthy...full of worth. His heart towards His Bride has never wavered and His intention to complete His plan for the earth has not changed. He is beautiful, loving, fearless, and powerful. This is a season to recommit--to return to first love, to pledge our allegiance to Jesus, to wait for His guidance, provision and protection, to reaffirm that we belong to Him. 

And of course as soon as my heart is moved to agree, the tiny voice in my head immediately chimes in with, "easy to say, harder to do. You'll just mess it up...again."  And of course I will and God knows I will, but that's the beauty of the thing. My weak, wavering will was never going to get me down the highway. My only hope of making it to the end of my journey has always been Yeshua. Just Him alone and nothing else. His intention is so much better than my promise to act. What He says, He will do. My job is to believe and hold on. God knows me better than I know myself, and the miracle is that He loves and wants me anyway. How amazing is the love of Jesus, friend of sinners! As I look at my history of highs and lows with God, I find it consoling in the extreme that I can count on His unfailing love and His faithful determination to bring me to the finish line. 

My testimony is the ongoing story of an ordinary, faithless human, elevated not by any native virtue of my own but by the amazing, unmerited favor of the God of the universe. He loves me, because He loves me. Period. That is as unfathomable to me today as it was the day He first called me. I am under no illusion that He wanted me because I'd make a nice addition to the kingdom. Oh, the wonderful, immeasurable, inexhaustible mercy of God! He takes the weak, foolish things of this world and makes them royal, sits them at His table, and feeds them from His plate.  I want to remember, again and again Whose I am; I want to return to first love.

^"...I have this against you: you have abandoned the passionate

love you had for me at the beginning. Think about how far

you have fallen! Repent and do the works of love you did at first.

I will come to you and remove your lampstand from

its place of influence if you do not repent."

Revelation 2:4-5

The Passion translation (TPT)