Gifts of Simplicity

Father God – my Creator, my Protector, my Healer – I am so grateful.

I am grateful for life, protection, and healing.  I am grateful for the ability to continue my education, work, and start a new life with my husband.

I am in awe of the simple things, those gifts I used to take for granted: walking, jogging, running, jumping, reaching, lifting, driving, moving, breathing…

When my ears hear the sound of my husband’s voice, this neck turns my eyes to his face.

These arms hold my first nephew, as they will hold future nephews and nieces, while this neck bends to give his beautiful face Eskimo kisses.

When one of my Bible club kids speaks to me, these legs sit crisscross-applesauce on the floor with him or her and this neck throws my head back as that child makes me laugh.

These fingers touch black and white keys, these hands create chords, and these arms reach octaves when this brain tells this neck to move and make life flow out of a piano.

Movement.  Life. 

"But you, O LORD, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high."  Psalm 3:3

Blessed: Loved, Overwhelmed, Undeserving, Grateful

Dear Family and Friends,

     As many of you know, I had a car accident on April 26th in which my neck was broken and my car was totaled.  I was able to go home from the hospital the night of the accident with just a neck brace because the breaks were not out of alignment and no surgery was necessary.  I praise God for sparing my life and protecting me from worse injury.  Throughout this time of my recovery, I have been very blessed by many notes, text messages, comments, gifts, visits, phone calls, etc.  It meant a lot to know that you all were praying for and thinking about me.  The neck brace is off and I should be fully recovered after some therapy and a few more weeks! 

     Although I was unaware of this during the first few weeks after the accident, John and Noel McCloy (some very dear friends of mine and the leaders of the College and Career Mission Team at my church) immediately began looking for a car for me and contacting Western Hills Church, and my family members about contributing to a fund for the car.  With the help of Tom and Kay Hill, as well as their son (and probably some others I am unaware of) John found a 2002 silver Mitsubishi Galant for me!  

     On May 17^th, the College and Career Mission Team met in my family’s home for our Thursday night meeting.  Before the meeting began, John handed me a box that two members of our group (Bethany and Caleb Martin) had designed and carved.  After admiring the box for a while, I opened it, to discover a set of keys and a title for my new car!!!  The whole group went outside with me, where I saw the car for the first time.  John told me that the car’s only owner is a mechanic, so the car is in great condition.  My first two cars didn’t have automatic locks, windows, and trunk openers or a CD player, so I was very excited to discover that this one does.  And, to top it all off, the car even has nice rims. ;) 

     Through the love and generosity of my family and friends, the gift of this car has become a reminder of Who God is.  My mom tells me that I was asking a lot of questions about the wreck that night at the hospital, one of them being, “Is my car totaled?”  When she told me that it was, I said, “God’s already given me 2 cars.  He’s not going to give me another one!”  Well, God sure showed me up.   My new car reminds me that God is “The Mighty One, God the Lord,” who “speaks and summons the earth from the rising of the sun to its setting” (Ps. 50:1) and that “every beast of the forest…the cattle on a thousand hills...and all that moves on the hills” are His (Ps 50:10-11).  He also reminded me that I should never say that He can’t or won’t do something; that there is no limit to His love, mercy, and generosity; that He has promised to “supply every need of [mine] according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:19); and that He loves to take care of His children.

     The gift of my new car has also served as an example of what the church of Jesus Christ should look like.  To all of you  -- members of this church -- I would like to say: thank you for coming together so that, like the early church, there would not be “a needy person among [you]” (Acts 4:34).  You all have demonstrated how the church takes care of each other by letting me know you were praying, encouraging me, and giving me a car.  “By this, all people will know that you are [His] disciples, [because] you have love for one another” (Jn. 3:35).  When I tell people about your acts of love, they will know that you are His disciples.  I will be able to tell others who might not have been loved like they should be by the church that I know a lot of Christians who love each other.  I am so blessed to have so many Godly, loving friends and family. 

                                                                             With much love and gratefulness, 

                                                                                                       

                                                          Megan                                                                                          

From a Recipient of "Many Blessings!"

Today is National Teachers Day. This day also marks the four-year anniversary of the death of Debbie Wells, my pastor's former wife and one of the most influential teachers in my life. I learned many valuable lessons from Mrs. Wells (aka Mrs. P.J.) that I will never forget, some of which I will share here:

1. Forgive no matter what.

 Mrs. P.J. knew how to tell a story. She wore the costumes and did all the voices. She knew how to describe a scene that created vivid pictures in my mind, many of which are implanted there forever. I remember the day I heard "Corrie ten Boom" share her message on forgiveness. Almost every time I find myself withholding forgiveness from someone, I remember the story of Corrie meeting the Nazi soldier who had beaten her sister, and the words, "I forgive you" have to come. 

2. Shyness is pride.

I have nearly always been an introvert. I didn't used to think of being shy as being prideful. Shyness, timidity, and quietness, in my mind, seemed humble. But I remember the day that Mrs. Wells told the other girls in my class and I about how she, a young, shy, girl, had been teased for her skinniness in high school. She explained how she realized that, by waiting for someone to befriend her, she was being prideful and selfish. Now, when I find myself wanting to withdraw because it would be more comfortable, I hear her words and I try to push myself to reach out to others. When I start wishing that someone would be my friend, would come talk to me, I make an effort to be friendly. Mrs. Wells always met me with a smile, a hug, and the most sincere, "How are you?" that made me feel like I was the most special girl in the world. And I'm pretty sure she made every person in the world feel that way.

3. Praise God without fearing man.

I can still hear her singing during the worship service at Western Hills. I see her boldly step away from her pew, toward the "King of Kings" banner across from her. She lifts the pole out of its stand, and begins to walk in front of the stage, back and forth, and up and down the aisles. I can still see her face, beaming with a smile and uplifted toward heaven. (That's where her focus was most of the time.) Proudly, yet so gracefully, she floats, like an angel, throughout the sanctuary. She forgets that we're all there, watching her, because she can't stop thinking about the amazing God that she serves. I'm inspired to remember why I am here. I'm in awe of my Maker. 

4. Hold on to the visions God gives you.

In January of 2004, when I was 15-years-old, I joined a team of about 10 other young people, under the leadership of Mrs. Wells, to volunteer at a Bible club at Heronville Elementary. Each week, we met Mrs. Wells on Wednesday nights to prepare the lesson we would teach the following Tuesday. I always left those meetings so excited about what I would be teaching the kids the next week. I remember riding to and from Bible club in a 15-passenger van, filled with the scent of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies and driven by Mrs. P.J. (who, by the way, was known to have a lead foot). 

Mrs. Wells started bringing those Bible club kids to church in that van. Every Wednesday night, with a group of 10 or more kids trailing behind (or running ahead of) her, Mrs. Wells would enter building B with an excitement that caught the attention of everyone present. She was excited about reaching our community - the south side of Oklahoma City. She met the children in that community and brought them in to our church. This was her vision. And I caught on to it. I wanted to be a part of what God was doing through her.

And then, she got sick. So sick that she couldn't lead Bible club, or bring the kids to church. For about a year, I thought God's plan to use us to bring the inner city that surrounded our church building into Western Hills was falling apart. But, just months after my pastor's wife died, God called me to become an employee at Novo Ministries. I began leading a small group of volunteers from my church to run two Bible clubs at other schools near our church. The next two years, I coordinated and assisted with these Bible clubs. At times, I grew very discouraged. I didn't see the vision being fulfilled, even though we were still doing Bible clubs. It was a very hard time for our whole church, with Mrs. Wells being gone. 

But the vision didn't fade away. Other people, like our youth pastor and almost all of our youth, caught on to it. Now, for two years, a group of 20-30 volunteers have been teaching at two Bible clubs, which have grown as well. These volunteers are building relationships with "their" kids. Several of the Bible club teachers are inviting the children and / or bringing them to church. It is not uncommon for 5, 6, 7,   or 10 of my Bible club kids, on their way to class, to run up to me and give me a hug in the hallway at church. Many children have been saved, many have been baptized.

God's mission for my life for now is (and for the past four years has been) to reach the inner-city children of Oklahoma City with the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Though it was God who called me, Debbie Wells inspired me to be in a place where I would hear that call clearly.  

5. Your determined purpose should be to know Him.

The 17th year of my life was the best one I've ever had. I was closer to God that year than ever. At the beginning of that year, Mrs. Wells began teaching the Wednesday night class for teenage girls at church. I remember being more eager to attend church each week than I had ever been before. I had such a great desire to know God and learn more about Him that I don't think I went a day without talking to Him and studying His Word. 

That summer, I went on a mission trip with Reaching Souls International to Tanzania. Mrs. Wells was a part of the group. Her passion for sharing Jesus with the Tanzanian people was contagious. I remember how her story of her visit to the Masai village brought tears to my eyes. She was like a brilliant ray of sunlight bursting through the cracks of the dark huts in that village.

In the fall of 2006, just before Mrs. Wells was diagnosed with cancer, she began a Bible study called "One-on-One with God". Mrs. Wells asked me to be one of the student leaders in the girls' class, which meant I got to meet with her and the other student leaders on Sundays. Each week, after church, we would go through the lesson we would be teaching the upcoming Wednesday. I developed some habits and new ways of thinking that transformed me and helped me to grow in Christ. During this study, we memorized this verse, which we read and reviewed each week:

"[For my determined purpose is] that I may know Him - that I may progressively become more deeply and intimately acquainted with Him, perceiving and recognizing and understanding [the wonders of His Person] more strongly and more clearly. And that I may in that same way come to know the power outflowing from His resurrection [which it exerts over believers]; and that I may so share His sufferings as to be continually transformed [in spirit into His likeness even] to His death, [in the hope]*."

Philippians 3:10

I can't read that verse without hearing Mrs. Wells speaking it. She had a way of reading verses that made God's words seem alive, as they are. 

6. Be grateful for suffering.

On Sunday, October 9th, 2006, Mrs. Wells said something in our weekly Bible study meeting that I didn't want to forget. I felt something, or Someone, telling me to listen closely and remember. To realize a very wise woman was giving me advice that I might not be able to hear again. I wrote down, word-for-word, in my Bible study book what she said that day. In blue ink, at the bottom of the page and right across from Philippians 3:10, are the words: "When you really suffer, you experience more suffering like Jesus. You come to know Him in a way you never have because you are sharing in His sufferings. You begin to understand what He went through." 

Those words came from a woman who knew she had cancer, who knew her chances of living much longer were not likely, who felt unbearable pain at the moment she spoke them. When I remember those words, I am reminded that I have never, ever experienced anywhere close to the amount of pain she felt, and that I have most certainly never (and never will) feel the pain that my Savior felt because of the stupid, wicked choices I make every day. 

7. Don't forget where your home is.

I don't remember Mrs. Wells ever saying that. But her life spoke it constantly. She lived with an eternal mindset. She lived to know God, whether on earth or in heaven. 

*I remember always wondering what the next verse said - what "the hope" was. Well, I read the next verse a while later, after Mrs. Wells had died: "That if possible I may attain to the [spiritual and moral] resurrection [that lifts me] out from among the dead [even while in the body]" Philippians 3:11. I have risen with Christ, so I live in the resurrection. I can't help but smile through my tears when I realize that this hope is the hope Mrs. Wells had. I know that, when Mrs. Wells died, she left her body here and rose to meet Christ in heaven, where she is now. Her hope has been fulfilled for eternity. I can't wait for my own hope to be fulfilled and to see her again. 

When Nature Shouts and We Hear Our Own Whispers

This morning, in my Sunday-School class, I taught the story of Creation. When preparing the story last night, I thought, These kids already know this story. Why am I telling it to them? I have nothing new to share. But God prompted me to ask them several questions to discover their thoughts on Creation as I was telling the story. One of the questions that I asked several children was, "Why did God make the world?" Each answer revolved around humanity. "He made it for us," they said. Until more recently, I think this has been my own thought process about Creation - that He made the world for us to enjoy. I'm sure someone told me that this wasn't the case. In my own self-centeredness, I must have only heard what I wanted to hear.

Now, I don't see this as the reason for God creating the world. This star-breathing, cloud-counting God made the world for Himself:

"For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth...all things were created by him, and for him."

Colossians 1:16

The key words are "for him."

So why did He make us? Why are we here?

"And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth."

Genesis 1:26

According to the Blue Letter Bible, the word "dominion" means "to rule, have dominion, dominate, tread down; a) to have dominion, rule, subjugate; b) to cause to dominate." So He made us to rule over the world.

I'm sure God knew that we were going to enjoy nature. I bet He realizes how it's going to affect us when He paints a beautiful sunset, creates each individual snowflake, or makes a shooting star fall across the sky. Still, the main purpose of His creation is NOT to please me. It exists to praise Him. In praising the Maker, it has the ability to fill me with an overwhelming awe that brings me to my knees because I realize I've forgotten that it's not about me.

Psalm 148

"Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord from the heavens;

praise him in the heights above.

Praise him, all his angels;

praise him, all his heavenly hosts.

Praise him, sun and moon; 

praise him, all you shining stars.

Praise him, you highest heavens

and you waters above the skies.

Let them praise the name of the Lord,

for at his command they were created,

and he established them for ever and ever-

he issued a decree that will never pass away.

Praise the Lord from the earth,

you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

lightening and hail, snow and clouds, 

stormy winds that do his bidding,

you mountains and all hills,

fruit trees and all cedars,

wild animals and all cattle,

small creatures and flying birds,

kings of the earth and all nations,

you princes and all rulers on earth,

young men and women,

old men and children.

Let them praise the name of the Lord,

for his name alone is exalted;

his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.

And he has raised up for his people a horn, 

the praise of all his faithful servants

of Israel, the people close to his heart."

A Faraway Memory Close to My Heart - Grandpa Buck

As the days, weeks, months, and years have passed, memories of you have faded. I have gone for long periods of time without thinking about you. Yet, for some reason, you've been on my mind a lot lately. Perhaps it's because I've started purposely replaying all memories in my mind. Sometimes, I get scared when I find myself forgetting someone. I don't want to forget you. So I make myself remember.

I run down the brick path to your front door, at which I knock. I open before I hear you answer because I know you can't wait to see me. You're sitting in your big, gray armchair, in front of the T.V., watching Gunsmoke. You're wearing the usual - tennis shoes; brown slacks; dirty, white, cotton shirt; Derrick Engineering hat; and glasses, held together by Duct tape.

I climb into your lap to give you a hug. Your stubble tickles my face as you kiss my cheek. I lean against your chest, feeling the deep, gentle rumble of your voice. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Folger's Coffee with cheap, vanilla ice-cream. Sun, dirt, and sweat. Rusty nails. It's the scent of you.

You tell me the same jokes as the ones you told me last time (the "pizza pie" one; the one about why mom had Caitlin on December 4th, the one about wiping the baby's face with a dishrag, etc.). I laugh just as hard this time. I can't help but laugh when you crack yourself up. Your eyes crinkle up and your shoulders shake.

You give me "horseback rides" on your lap, yelling, "Heigh Ho, Silver, Away!" You take me outside, help me up on Shimmers' bare back, and take us for a walk. You don't let me go as fast as I want to because you don't want me to get hurt. 

You start the tractor and my brothers, sisters, and I all run toward it, screaming. You let us hop in the wagon in the back, driving all over the acreage. Every once in a while, you look back to make sure we're okay. We make you laugh. When you aren't looking, we stand, or hang our feet over the edge.


I find you in your shed, sorting screws. I talk non-stop while you just smile and nod (and  chuckle to yourself sometimes, I'm sure).


My sisters and I want a clubhouse because the boys are building themselves one. You build us one in a tree. We call it the W.G.H. treehouse (i.e., "With Grandpa's Help"). I help nail down one board.

You look around at all of us sitting at the dinner table and say, "All 'n y'all is purty" like you always do. I pull the "scraps" off of my bread. You get on to me, so I reluctantly eat them. I don't finish everything on my plate this time, so you eat most of it then dump the rest of it in the slop bucket.

I overhear you talking to my big brothers about the war. You can answer their questions at first because you were in the Field Artillery and didn't see the effect you had. But you remember that one time, and I see your eyes brimming with tears. I've never seen you cry. You walk away.

It's the end of the day. I crawl tiredly back into your chair. Mom says it's time to go and you hold onto me more tightly than before. Your hand squeezes my hand, which is swallowed in your grasp. Your hands, which are missing parts of two fingers, are strong and rough, yet soft and gentle. "Aren't you gonna stay the night?" you ask. Not this time. 

I wish I had stayed. Every time you asked.

I miss you.

Burdened

She’s known as a "fighter."

Her dad tells her to fight back.

I say, “Just walk away” and “Love your enemies.”

He’s a suspended student.

His teacher calls him an idiot.

I tell him to respect his authorities, to “bless those who curse you.”

He’s a Mexican.

He and his fellow classmates use racial slurs without restraint.

I say to remember that God loves us all the same, to “do good to those who hate you.”

She’s the teacher’s pet, the tattle-tale.

Her so called “friend” cusses her out, threatening to beat her up.

I say, “Forgive as you’ve been forgiven” and “Pray for those who spitefully use you.”

These are the kids who make me smile, make me laugh, make me cry. These are the kids who need Him most, hear truth least, starve for more. 

As I drive to meet “my” kids, I’m anxious to see their faces and excited to be with them. While entering the empty and quiet room, I whisper a prayer asking for protection, wisdom and the words to say. Driving away at the end of the day, I reflect on what seemed to be utter chaos. I remember the words I should have said. I wonder what I should have done instead. 

I question my ability, my impact, my strength, my resolve.

I imagine myself with a millstone around my neck - falling, drowning, in the sea. And I picture who, without Him, they could soon be. 

The words come to mind...

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV)

It’s not about how good or bad I am at my job, if I can see the difference I’m making, whether or not I feel strong, or how sure I am of my purpose. When I focus on these things (that is, myself), those evil forces start to win. 

“But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:57)

It’s about the power of Christ, in me, defeating the enemy. It’s about God doing amazing things through a human, Him using what a simple girl does and says today in a life tomorrow, a weak one saying “I am strong,” and a wanderer becoming more determined in her purpose to know Him.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” (I Corinthians 15:58)

Wandering Steps

"They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,

Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate

With dreadful Faces throng'd and fierie Armes:

Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;

The World was all before them, where to choose 

Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:

They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow, 

Through Eden took thir solitarie way."

(Paradise Lost, 12.641-49)

Sitting in the hard, metal desk in my Milton class, those never-ending questions run through my mind again: Why am I here? What am I going to do with my life? How can I know what Your will is? Can I mess up Your plan for my life or someone else's by making the wrong choice? Can you just tell me what to do? 

When I enrolled in this secular college a year and a half ago, I didn't think I'd find any answers to these questions. Yet today, on this last day of my sophmore year, it (almost) makes sense for the first time. Dr. Rice ends the semester by giving an illustration to explain the last lines of Paradise Lost, in which Milton refers to the doctrines of Providence and freewill.


"Imagine this: You're wandering through the maze of life, turning this way and that, trying to make all of the right turns. You can't see the end. In fact, you can't see anything but the option of taking one step to the left or to the right. You choose to go right, finding yourself at a dead end. So you go back to where you thought you were before and turn left this time. Stuck again. After some time, you look down at your hands and discover that you're holding a red string. Your eyes follow the string up, up, to a tower above you. And there, a man stands, holding the other end of the string. You realize he's been holding it all this time. He tells you that he can see the end of the maze; he knows the way out. You stand and wait. Tap your foot. Cross your arms. Looking up, you see that the man in the tower remains unmoved, watching silently. You tug on the string then wait some more. Nothing happens. So, holding the string tightly in your hands, you take a step forward. Then another. You begin to move more confidently. You take a sharp turn to the left. What was that? You feel a gentle pull on the string in the opposite direction. You hear a soft whisper floating through the wind from up above. You keep on going left, though. You walk right into a wall. Turning around to walk in another direction, you soon find yourself surrounded by walls. Frustrated, you flop down onto the ground, yanking on the string. Where to go now? Why won't the man in the tower just tell you which steps to take - which turns to make? Sighing, you take hold of the string again. This time, you take slow steps, stopping now and then. You wander through the maze, guided by that whisper, that gentle tug on the string."

I walk out of class into the parking lot, get into my car, and head for home. Rolling my windows down, I breathe in the fresh air and feel the last, few rays of sunlight warming my face. 

Pondering.

Sometimes, I forget that God can see the whole maze of my life. I neglect to ask Him for directions and make stupid mistakes. I often don't take advantage of the connection I have to Him through my relationship with Jesus. I ignore the whisper of the Holy Spirit, there to guide me with each step. Other times, I'm quite aware that God is watching above and become frustrated by that fact. Why doesn't He just tell me where to go? 

"If I answered all your questions now, you might just do things your own way and stop asking how," He gently reminds me. "If I told you with whom to go, you might start holding his hand instead of Mine. If I told you what My plan is, you might start focusing on that instead of your relationship with me. If I told you when, you might start living in the future, without me, for I AM present. If I told you where to go, you might start heading that direction too soon or completely stop asking for directions. And if I answered the question that you ask the most - why - you might stop asking me questions all together."

It is then that I remember why I am here. He created this maze to call me into a relationship with Him. While He gives me the freedom to choose which way I will go, the direction I will take He already knows. So when I wander off in the wrong direction, He is not surprised. My blunders do not thwart His plans. I do not create walls simply by walking into them. When I run into a dead end, however, He leads me back to where I wandered away. And we start over, together. Through this world to Paradise.