I’m up at four this morning to dig and as I began to do that, I ran across this. I wrote it almost exactly one year ago, well before I had firmly decided to write a study about the God of More. The challenges are slightly different this week, but still just as intense, if not maybe a little more so. So this…still:
Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen (Ephesians 3:20,21).
Happy New Year! As I sit here in a coffee shop to write, it strikes me how often I become “stressed-and-a-mess” over the negatives in my days that are really insignificant beyond nothingness. This week we postponed a Christmas ( a BIG one, cancelled due to sickness) that was supposed to be at our house, We are without internet for ten days at our house. We have an extra child at our house (a pretty needy one, at that). We have a couple of majorly huge issues going on in our house, that require our minds as we navigate them. And, at our house, this week, someone called to say some very harsh things to my husband in some very harsh tones.
“Our house” was in the above paragraph five times. It’s so important for me to remember the huge blessing in that phrase. “Our” means it’s not just me against the world. There are five good (and young) sisters, locally, that come to mind as I type who don’t talk about “our house” in the same sense that I can speak of it. There’s no male spiritual leadership, no wage earning man, no strong child disciplinarian, no protector and no one in the home who loves these sisters as Christ loved the church (Ephesians 5). But I live in “our house.” And the blessed implications of that are huge. Those of us who do enjoy it should never be smug about or take for granted the insulation that separates us from the harshness of the unrighteous world around us. And we should minister to those who do not have the godly leaders in the home.
And then it’s our “”house”. The place of belonging. The system of familiar life, The shelter from the rain. The warmth in a cold winter. The presence of beds with blankets and firm pillows, electricity, food in the fridge, and clothing in the closets. It’s a place where the grandchildren who are not sick can isolate from the ones down the street who are fevered. It’s a place where they know there are bikes on the porch and games in the basement. More than that, our house is a home. When I walk in that kitchen door, there’s music even if it’s completely silent, because there is praise in my heart. He lives at our house. The aroma of the potpourri in the tiny counter crockpot fills the air with the fragrance of cinnamon and fruit and reminds me of of how much he has given me. I delight in His law and I can bring forth “fruit in my season” (Psalm 1). There are little twinkling lights that will stay there much longer this year while we wait for that fun Christmas time with family that will, prayerfully, happen in about a month. They are fun and they tell me, when all of my neighbors are turning their lights off, that maybe letting mine twinkle all through January will remind me that the real light, that should shine in and from my house, should remain every day of every year.
While I thought about the immensity of the blessings in our house, I remembered that I serve the God of more. I looked up the Greek word for more abundantly in Ephesians 3 and I find that the word is hyper. That’s right, It’s the word we use today to describe a child who is way above and beyond excited. It’s the word we use to tell the doctor about a wild allergic reaction on our skin…”I am hyper-allergic/hyper-sensitive to______________.” When a child is focused on some object or outcome and cannot be distracted, we say he is “hyper-fixated.” Our God is way outside the realm of the norm in his care for us. When I try to describe his ability to answer my pleas, I understand He is the “hyper” God. He is able to do “hyper” (abundantly more) than I can ask or imagine.
It’s a new year. I’ve decided to do some things that might be helpful for me, personally. I’m going to drink some protein every morning. I’m implementing some new prayer habits and I’m starting the Digging Deep writing process much earlier this year. But more than those resolutions, I’m going to remember that, while there is so much that I cannot control—sickness, technology, sin in the lives of others, to name a few—I serve a Father who is “hyper-able”. I can take all the little inconveniences and mishaps to Him at any given moment, and I can know that He is working with unlimited ability toward the end that He already sees with clarity! And he works in “our house.” I cannot focus on the end of the anxiety yet, because I cannot see the resolution. But I can focus on my “hyper” God and know that He is able to do more than I am asking or thinking for our house! Happy New Year! Your God is able!
When I was in the first grade in 1965, I got the lead in the first grade play. All the students in our school and all the parents and everybody in the PTF (Parents/Teachers/Friends) were there. Our play was Nursery Rhymes. Most kids got something short to recite—Jack and Jill or Simple Simon or Mary, Mary Quite Contrary.
It happens every year, but it never ceases to amaze me. There are the same old toys and books in my house that are magnets to the children who visit, even drawing them away from the bells and whistles of the shiny new Christmas toys that have scarcely been unwrapped. This is going to sound like a commercial for Matchbox and Mattel and Melissa and Doug, but, wait for it. There may be something, in the old toys that will play with our emotions, too, and from which we may even make spiritual application.
This little tractor pedal car was mine when I was two years old. Because it needs some WD-40, and I was squeak-crazy, I put it under my old silver tree, in a tight little spot. This year it would be so hard to get, that it would stay right there under that tree. But no. That tractor squeaked through my kitchen multiple times daily. A few times, it was even the ice cream delivery truck. (And, no…those old Shiny-Brite ornaments did not all survive.)
marbles make a thunder-rumble as they roll down the wooden tracks (Loud is always better!), but I am amazed at how intently and how long the kids watch the marbles. I have to be sure I have these on a big rug, to reduce the noise, and sometimes I even set the tall tower on a cookie sheet or biscuit pan, so the marbles will be contained when they reach the bottom and come rolling out onto the surface. These marbles roll every single time the kids come. (They find their marbles when they arrive, and I just about lose mine!)
I can’t leave out the Jolly Postman books. I highly recommend this little series. They take a fun little while to read, but kids can’t wait to get the next letter; a correspondence that’s been delivered to someone in the story poem, out of a sturdy envelope. There’s an envelope on each page opening of the books. Some have games or puzzles or jokes inside the letters. All are fun surprises. My grandchildren wanted to read the Jolly Postman even on Christmas Day and even though they have heard it over and over.
At our big family Christmas, I noticed little Ashton in the study playing with old Matchbox cars WHILE we were all in the living room opening gifts. Matchbox and Hot Wheels never get old for little boys of all ages. Tracks for racing are fun, but not necessary. Kids make parking lots and traffic jams and load the cars into larger vehicles.
sustaining truths. I had my Mother’s Titus 2 wisdom in my daily life—I mean just whenever I asked! How I miss that favorite thing! I had a godly husband who was preaching the Word. I had confidence in salvation and correction in Scripture. I prayed to heaven from that bed we had purchased from Mrs. Frye on credit. I had 24/7 extended credit, from the Christian banker in that little town, just in case we had emergencies (and we did, sometimes.) I had a godly woman in that town, who would have given me anything—ANYTHING—I needed, if she had it or could get it. I had children to teach in that local church and I had Mrs. Lora Laycook, who taught me to teach them. I had warmth in that little house and a big yard in which all our elders would come and eat homemade ice cream. I had a little dog named Nicodemus and 50 high school kids who thought my house was was theirs. Their parents lived in some nice, big houses, but they always seemed to want to be in my old teeny one, instead.
