Nope. By the time 3 pm came around, the contents of my lunch were obliterated and a healthy chunk of my snack stash had vanished. When I left around 5 pm, I felt moderately satiated but terribly guilty. I’m talking weighted down with shame. What was wrong with me?

I moped around the house clipping coupons and flipping through books during the presidential debate hoping to stave away further hunger. To no avail. The appetite monster was after me and it seemed I was destined to live a life of radical gluttony and idiotic self-gratification. I felt like falling to my knees: “I am a sinner, Lord! I know!”

The next day, packing my lunch, a brilliant idea struck me. “I’ll pack two lunches. Mini-meals! One for the morning and another for the afternoon.” I haven’t had such a good day in a long time. When the hunger pains started at 10:30, there was no need to panic. I just zapped my oatmeal, chopped my banana and got ready for second breakfast.

I was reminded of Pippin in The Lord of the Rings, frantic with fear that needs wouldn’t be met on the journey: “What about second breakfast?” Merry: “I don’t think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.” How terrible and fearful for them! Thankfully, my Lord knows about second breakfasts and everything else I need, even if it takes me a bit longer to catch on.

It makes me wonder what other areas of life I struggle through, proclaiming myself a failure simply because I haven’t let God meet my own valid needs. What gifts do I refuse from God because I judge them prematurely? In what areas do I flounder when provision is awaiting me from above?

Pippin: “What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn’t he?”
Lord, you know I have so many needs—physical, emotional and spiritual—my elevenses, luncheons and afternoon teas. But I have nothing to fear, Father. Help me let you meet my needs on the journey, to the praise of your glorious grace.

“But they refused to pay attention; stubbornly they turned their backs and stopped up their ears. They made their hearts as hard as flint and would not listen to the law or to the words that the Lord Almighty had sent by his Spirit… [But] this is what the Lord Almighty says: ‘I will save my people… they will be my people and I will be faithful and righteous to them as their God.” – Zechariah 7:11-8:8

Yesterday, I’m on the Schwinn, pedaling hard. David Crowder Band is playing on my iPod way louder than my mother would approve of. One eye is on the analog dial and all I know is I can’t let the big hand slip beneath the ‘4’ until the readout says ‘57000’. This is my own concocted method of torture without which a day can hardly be considered a success. I need the endorphins, the rush, the challenge and the confidence that only comes through conquering something.

The truth is I’m mostly ineffectual. I sin. I mess things up. Often, I can’t fully live up to even the mediocre goals I set for myself. In the midst of a life of discovering over and over that, yet again, I am not the woman, the wife, the daughter, the employee or the Christian I would love to be, at least I can push on a lever system with my feet and hands until my breath comes fast and I know once I’m done I’ll feel as weak bodily as I am spiritually. This all occurs to me halfway through song #3, pedaling like my salvation depends on maintaining a ‘4’ until ‘57000’. God’s Word says He removed my sin from me as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12). So why do I work so hard?

God, please help me to accept your grace! Forgive me for rejecting it by continuing to strive in my own strength. I can do nothing without you. Father, teach me to rest in you. “Raise me up from this grave. Touch my tongue and then I’ll sing. Heal my limbs and joyfully I’ll run to you” (David Crowder Band).

As the tide receded and the clams took to breathing in the fresh sea air, we took broken shells and dove onto the mini clam-geysers that sprayed up in random succession all around us. To our chagrin, all our scooping only revealed little wiggling clam butts as they muscled away to safety under bubbling puddles of kelp. Tricky little devils! For revenge, we trotted down the beach annihilating the empty shells of their less fortunate brothers, giggling at the gratifying crunch our posthumous mortification created. Seagulls screamed, waves rolled, and we subdued the earth. On our way back, we held hands and talked about our spiritual goals for our third year of marriage.

My step-family includes interior designers, quiet atheists, busy businessmen, and doting grandparents. To comfort themselves with thoughts of love and hope, they have lined the walls of the beach house with hundreds of happy memories and witty sayings. The photographs are of my preschool-aged step-cousins crabbing, fort-building, and being generally adorable while the placards are the trendy wood-type saying, “Once you’ve slept on an island, you’re never quite the same”, “If life is a stage, I want better lighting”, and “What if the hokey pokey IS what it’s all about?”

As we stepped in from our walk it was easier to see these superficial trappings as artifacts of a longing deeper than a simple design element. I was confronted with the thought that, to them, ‘the good life’ may actually BE what it’s all about. No powerful Creator. No loving Sustainer. No personal God.

My first spiritual goal this year is to use my Biblical knowledge instead of hiding it inside for only me to see. I took a deep breath and asked God for a chance at a conversation this year: Guess what? I’ve got some Good News you guys! And it’s not about the hokey pokey….

Yesterday I discovered that our remodel is probably costing us thousands more than we had planned – right before our remaining car broke down in the middle of the I-90 bridge. After all the towing hassle, I arrived at our house to find out the carpet had not been installed like we had planned.

This morning, I waited around for 3 hours for the air duct cleaners to arrive, only to finally get a hold of them and hear that they refuse to work while the carpet guy is still there installing.

Okay. Well, I had to get to Physical Therapy anyway. I talked to my PT, Tom. He said he just can’t figure it out. Maybe there is more than one thing going on inside my knee. Why doesn’t the brace help? We’ll just have to keep doing what we’re doing indefinitely and see if, over time, it helps at all.

I ignored the call-waiting beep on the phone with my husband just now while icing my knee. I was too busy telling him the news about the carpet, the vent cleaners – “o sure, my knee’s just fine” – and the fact that we won’t be able to move back in to our house this weekend after all. He was understandably distraught, but he had to get off the phone for a meeting. I hung up and checked my voicemail message. It was the automotive place saying our ’92 Mazda has had its last hurrah. It looks like it’s the engine.

So we’re down to zero cars, a chronic bum knee, an expensive, never-ending remodel, and a move that seems like it will never come. What’s a woman to do?

Well, what does the Bible say about it?

Praise God! Praise God that I have a loving husband, life eternal, the solidity of the Greatness of God – not to mention a new Corolla that’s getting fixed, a home that is soon to be beautiful, time to ice my knee, and some great memories with our old reliable Mazda. Honestly, like Pastor Mark said, I am like a fish that can’t see the water ‘cause I’m swimming in it! God’s grace is ALL around. Let’s set our eyes, with a smile, to see it!

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again, REJOICE!” Philippians 4:4

Let’s hear it, MHE! What do you praise God for? Take a moment to add a comment with your praise – especially if you have to think for a minute to come up with one.

Life passes. I grow thin. I grow fat. I have periods of stasis and of excitement; of thoughtless security and of tough, prayerful peace. At times my thoughts increasingly skip back to the past and at others I drive a straight line to my goals for the future. I get sick or I remain well. This morning I long to rest enraptured in God’s grace and this afternoon my single reverent thought is forced and dry. One day life seems a burgeoning horizon. The next a slough.

Outside my window a lady is taking pictures of my house. I stop what I’m doing to go out and meet her. When I return, what thought fills my mind in this moment of transition? Regardless of its content, it is an indication of what I cling to inside.
What fleeting sensation permeates your silent instant? That general sick feeling of inadequacy. A hurried list of to-dos. The name of a guy you liked in High School. A dream you are not sure God will ever fulfill. A glance in the mirror or a bit of worry over the Presidential Primary. Are these our gods? We paint ourselves too righteous to think we are above such invasive addictions. We are like typewriters. Return. Tap – tap. Return. Tap – tap. Return.

What do we return to? What keeps coming back to mind throughout the day?

“All who make idols are nothing. And the things they treasure are worthless.”
Isaiah 44:9

“There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands, no one who seeks God. All have turned away …. But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe.”
Romans 3:10-22