"The Lord Needs It"

As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying that colt?"  They replied, "The Lord needs it" (Luke 19:33-34, NET).

            For me the most phenomenal part of the Palm Sunday story of Jesus’ royal entry into Jerusalem is not the procession itself, nor the crowds’ “Hosanna” shout; not the throngs casting their robes at His feet, nor the palm-waving benedictions.  All that is splendid, to be sure, but I am most amazed and humbled by this little bit about the donkey.

            Imagine with me, if you will, walking out of your house early on Monday morning.  It’s not yet time to leave for work, but you thought you heard something unusual, so you go out to take a look.  Lo and behold, you see two men in your driveway hot-wiring your new pick-up truck, the one you bought to haul the equipment and supplies for your lawncare business!

            “Hey!  What do you think you’re doing??!!  Why are you taking my truck?” you demand.

            With calmness surprising for thugs, they reply, “The Master needs it.”

            The Master needs it?  Oh well, in THAT case. . .  “NO need to go to all that trouble.  Hold on a minute, and I’ll bring you the keys and my gas card.”

            Astonishing, isn’t it? But that’s comparable to what took place at the edge of Jerusalem that day.  Which is the greater miracle, that an unbroken donkey submitted to its Creator to be ridden through a noisy crowd, or that these owners – like all of us, not without their own donkeylike tendencies – consented immediately and without further ado?  “The Lord needs it,” was the only explanation they required.

            What about me, about you?  Do we have this simple trust?  Often in my past the Lord has revealed something or someone I was clutching to myself, afraid to let go even after I had sensed His hand taking it away.   May the Lord search our hearts – yours and mine:  is there some area of life right at this moment where we have heard His, “The Lord needs this,” but have not yielded?  Has He given us a cue to entrust this dear person, position, dream, treasure, ideal, or maybe even my own health to Him for now, but with no further explanation?  Am I futilely resisting His touch on some tender spot in my life, fearful of the consequence of yielding all to Him who gave it?

            If so, let us find both encouragement and challenge in the example of this colt’s owners.  The safest, best place for our beloved is in the Lord’s possession.  We are not told whether the colt was ever returned to the owners, but even if not, its giving constituted their role in the purposes of God and fulfillment of prophecy.  God had a greater plan for this precious animal than simply their beast of burden; might it not be so with whatever I am grasping so tightly?

            Indeed, we have His firm assurance in many places and no uncertain terms that His plans for us and ours far exceed even our wildest imaginings; that His purposes are better than anything that has ever entered our heads and hearts; that He plans to give us a future and a hope, free of pain and full of glory someday.

            May we believe Him and prove the truth of these promises for ourselves by yielding quickly wherever we may hear, “The Lord needs this.”

To read more contributions to the roundtable Ann Voskamp hosts on The Spiritual Practice of Easter, click below:

Memorial Stones: A Poem

   When the people broke camp to cross the Jordan, the priests carried the ark of the covenant  ahead of the people. ¹⁵ Now the Jordan overflows its banks throughout the harvest season.  But as soon as the priests carrying the ark reached the Jordan, their feet touched the water at its edge ¹⁶ and the water flowing downstream stood still, rising up [in] a mass that extended as far as  Adam, a city next to Zarethan. The water flowing downstream into the Sea of the Arabah (the Dead Sea) was completely cut off, and the people crossed opposite Jericho. ¹⁷ The priests carrying the ark of the LORD's covenant stood firmly on dry ground in the middle of the Jordan,  while all Israel crossed on dry ground until the entire nation had finished crossing the Jordan.


   After the entire nation had finished crossing the Jordan,  the LORD spoke to Joshua, ² "Choose 12 men from the people, one man for each tribe,  ³ and command them, 'Take 12 stones from this place in the middle of the Jordan where the priests' feet are standing, carry them with you, and set them down at the place where you spend the night.' "
    ⁴ So Joshua summoned the 12 men selected from the Israelites, one man for each tribe, ⁵ and said to them, "Go across to the ark of the LORD your God in the middle of the Jordan. Each of you lift a stone onto his shoulder, one for each  of the Israelite tribes, ⁶ so that this will be a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean to you?  ' ⁷ you should tell them, 'The waters of the Jordan were cut off in front of the ark of the LORD's covenant. When it crossed the Jordan, the Jordan's waters were cut off.' Therefore these stones will always be a memorial for the Israelites."
-Joshua 3:14-17;4:1-7, HCSB


When Yahweh parts the flood and a nation walks through on dry ground,
    nothing wet but the priests' feet,
When granola bars and sardines become a feast with 12 doggy bags,
When stone and slingshot slay a giant,
I heap up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm.
His love endures forever.


I heap up words to remember,
Lest, not remembering, I forget
And, forgetting, drift
Back to slavery of burdened unbelief.


When God's people are the giants put to flight by a few,
When the handful of flour and bit of oil run out, yet famine does not lift,
When the waves swamp the boat and still He sleeps,
Those heaped-up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm,
they remind me:
His love endures forever.


This is why I write, why I journal, why I keep listing God's gracious gifts.  These are my stones of witness.  Thanks be to God for
~His faithfulness to His promises
~So many stories, from Scripture and since then, testifying that He can be counted on
~Yesterday's God is the same today and will still be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
~The right words at the right time (both given and received)
~The real God hearing and answering the prayers of His people. When "all I can do is pray," that is not second best or doing nothing because God is who He says He is.
~The Lord WITH us, with me and with my loved ones in their afflictions, "a helper who is always found in times of trouble"
~One hundredth post on Friday
~Birthday cake
~Do-overs
~A new butterfly in the garden

(From the gratitude list, #4138-4147)

Twelve Years Ago. . .

Twelve years ago today, my favorite fella asked if he could ride with me the following night from seminary to book club.  Same point A to same point B. . . .  Sure, no problem.  That's what friends do.

Twelve years ago tomorrow, he drove my car to book club.  He insisted on buying me supper en route, "since it's your car and gasoline."  I suggested New York Subs.  He chose La Madeleine.  (Hmm, that's unexpected.)

After book club, he of course needed a ride to pick up his car at the home of his morning carpool.  When we had picked up his car, he felt like doing some coffee-house evangelism.  Did I want to come?  (Wait, didn't we just have book club at a coffee house?)

At the second coffee house, after he ordered his coffee and I ordered hot water for the tea bag in my purse, we adjourned to the patio, since the live music inside made evangelism and all other conversation impossible inside.  There he asked if I would be interested in moving on from friendship to courtship, and the whole evening made sense.

I replied that I couldn't think of a nicer honor, to which he replied, "What?"

"What, 'What?'"

"I mean, what did you say?  I'm not sure I heard you correctly the first time."

"I said, 'I couldn't think of a nicer honor.'"

"Oh, okay.  I guess next I need to talk to your dad."

"Well, they sent the mobile phone with me.  Should we just call them now?"  We did, to set up an in-person meeting the next day.  We talked a while longer, he took my hand for the first time and prayed with me for the first time.  Then he went home, and I went to my guest room for the night.  I didn't sleep much.

Twelve years ago Sunday, we celebrated his birthday together for the first time by having lunch with my parents, where he asked and received permission to court me.  He also received a tie I'd bought that morning.  He actually wore ties then, since one was required for seminary dress code.  That was rather a nice dress code.

Twelve years ago we began a journey that so far has taken us around the world and back.  We still enjoy coffee houses and La Madeleine.  We still laugh at our goofy selves on a regular basis.  More importantly, it is still my great honor to go out on his arm, whether to the doctor or a dinner date.  He has only grown in my esteem over this last year as he has gracefully learned a new level of sacrificial service, attentiveness, and loving me more than himself.


{Happy birthday, my love.  May this decade be the best yet.}

White Flag

A few weeks ago, the last Sunday I was not physically up to the challenge of church preparation and attendance, I worshiped along with the live webcast of Houston's First Baptist Church.  My closest friend from seminary attends there now, so I look for her at the meet-and-greet time, even though I think she worships with the evening crowd.  While this is by no means a substitute for flesh-and-blood community and accountability, it has been a great blessing to me in this season of narrower boundaries.

Another post has already responded to the day's solid sermon on John 8.  What lingers in my heart and devotions still, nearly a month later, is the incidental inclusion of a bit of sign language in the last hymn.  The pastor, Gregg Matte, shared that one of his seminary professors had been deeply involved in ministry to the hearing impaired and thus knew some American sign language.  This professor shared with his class the signs for the title and refrain of the hymn "I Surrender All."  Pastor Gregg proceeded to share the signs with his congregation and thus with me, participating online from home.  Because the gestures physically express the idea of surrender so well, because I am still using them in my devotions a month later, I pass them along to you.

(For all these, click on the highlighted term for a link to a video demonstration of the sign.)

The sign for "I" occurs a couple of ways, according to the online dictionary.  In the webcast, the pastor demonstrated the version in which the littlest finger of the right hand points upward from a closed fist, held against the chest.  This reminds me that I am smaller and less powerful than I might like to think, that the problem with "I" is that closed-fist grasping at the illusion of control, holding on to my will.  That acknowledgment, for me, is the start of surrender and letting go.

"Surrender" begins with both hands in closed fists (about waist-high) in front of the signer.  The fists open and lift toward the shoulders, as if to convey the cop-show cliche of dropping my weapons and coming out with my hands up.  In other words, my fists graphically represent my surrender.

Finally, "all" consists of one open hand making a single revolution around the other open hand.  It makes me think of another idiom, "the whole ball of wax."

I love that progression from close-fisted emphasis on myself towards openness and completion.  I love and daily need to surrender, to release my grip on God's business, to stop fighting against God for my own foolish way and to wave the white flag.  I need to love extending that surrender to all that concerns me.

Maybe all this simply reflects my Italian heritage.  Talking with my hands is my birthright that way.  At any rate, in the battle to replace grumbling with gratitude and fear with trust, I am finding these three simple signs a means of grace.  When I find my emotions and spirit clenching up in fear and grasping for control, in the better moments I remember surrender and pray with these signs, opening hands and wrapping up the specific trigger of worry in that "all."

The actions remind me also of a prayer I use often, sometimes daily, to recognize areas to surrender and work through entrusting those things and letting them go into God's wise, good, loving (but not tame) control:

Lord I am willing [sometimes just "willing to be made willing" and humbly asking God to do the making] to receive what You give, release what You take, lack what You withhold, do what You require and be what You desire. Amen (Adele Ahlberg Calhoun, Spiritual Disciplines Handbook, 101, addition mine). 

In other words, "I Surrender All."

In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, who "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the form of a servant"  for a time that we might share the glories of righteousness with Him, in His name I lay down arms and raise the white flag of surrender.  Lord, grant us grace to let go of our own ways more quickly that we might receive the good things You desire to give us.  Amen.

Worn Out

"Misseelone [i.e., Miss Leone], you wear me out!!!"  My freckle-faced student would punctuate these words with a tilt of her blond ponytail and a fist planted on her hip.  Usually the outrageous demand prompting such protest was something like following a spelling lesson with a math lesson, only a water-fountain break between.

Last week I felt the same way towards God when the week began Monday morning with unpleasant dental news involving a consultation with an oral surgeon later this month.  The ground lost to gratitude there, at the gates of the week, left me ill-equipped to deal with the other minor aches and pains popping up afterwards, the further frustration of smacking headlong into the reality that "improved pain control" does not mean "normal" or "no boundaries," and impatience to see answers to prayers for loved ones suffering more than I am.  Knowing how tiny my troubles are compared to those of the Japanese and Libyan people and others closer to home only adds guilt to the mix.

This week I have stumbled in practicing celebration.  I may have successfully practiced lament, depending on where the line falls between worshipping through lament as the Psalmists did and just plain whining.  I'm guessing I was on the whining side of the line..

Thankfully, the week ended better than it began, and today fresh mercies give me a fresh start to realize the words of George Mueller (quoted in John Piper's When I Don't Desire God):

When he was seventy-six, he wrote the same thing he had learned for fifty years:  "I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was, to have my soul happy in the Lord" (119, emphasis mine).

This week, I give thanks to God (sometimes by faith) for
~dentists and my misbehaving tooth
~the rest of the medical professionals with whom I have frequent fellowship
~aches and pains, weaknesses and difficulties
~delayed answers to prayer
~unexpected encouragement from a bloggy friend
~time with my mom two days in a row
~guidance to quick resolution of a tech support problem way beyond my pay grade
~wisteria in bloom at the end of the lane
~tea in my favorite cup
~sister bringing back treats from her spring break trip
~a new Carolina chickadee guest at our feeder
~the perfect cliche-blue sky and cotton ball clouds today
~a neighbor boy offering to help the husband clean up all the branches thinned out of the live oak out front
~phrases from Ann's book calling me back to gratitude:
  "Life is not an emergency."
  "Eucharisteo always precedes the miracle."
  "God is always good, and I am always loved."
~fresh starts
(from the gratitude journal, #4079-93)