In Him

(An email story I recieved today- you may have seen it before, but I think it’s worth the read again.)

I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin  thinks God  lives under his bed. At least that’s what  I heard him say one  night.

He was praying out loud in his  dark  bedroom, and I stopped to listen, ‘Are you  there, God?’ he said.  ‘Where are you? Oh,
I see. Under the bed…’

I giggled softly and tiptoed off  to my  own room. Kevin’s unique perspectives are   often a source of  amusement. But that
night something else lingered long after  the humor. I  realized for the first time  the very different world Kevin lives  in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally  disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size  (he’s  6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he  is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with  the  capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he  always will. He will probably  always  believe that God lives under his bed, that  Santa Claus is the one  who fills the  space under our tree every Christmas and  that   airplanes stay  up in the sky because  angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin  realizes he  is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with  his monotonous  life?

Up before dawn each day, off to  work at a  workshop for the disabled, home to walk  our cocker spaniel,  return to eat his
favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner,  and later to  bed.

The only variation in the entire  scheme  is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over  the washing machine like  a mother with
her newborn child.

He does not seem dissatisfied.  

He lopes out to the bus every  morning at  7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly  while the  water boils on the stove before dinner,  and he stays up late  twice a week to
gather our dirty laundry for his next  day’s laundry  chores.

And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of  Saturdays!
That’s the day my Dad takes Kevin to the  airport to have a soft  drink, watch the  planes land, and speculate loudly on the
destination of  each passenger inside.  ‘That one’s goin’ to Chi-car-go!’ Kevin  shouts as  he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he  can  hardly sleep on Friday nights.

And so goes his world of daily  rituals  and weekend field trips.  

He doesn’t know what it means to  be  discontent.

His life is simple.   He will never know the  entanglements of  wealth of power, and he does not care what  brand of  clothing he wears or what kind  of food he eats. His needs have always  been  met, and he never worries that one  day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is  never so  happy as when he is working. When he  unloads the dishwasher or  vacuums the
carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when  it is  begun, and he does not leave a job until  it is finished. But when  his tasks are
done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work  or the  work of others. His heart is pure.  

He still believes everyone tells  the  truth, promises must be kept, and when you  are wrong, you apologize  instead of  argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned  with  appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry  when he is hurt, angry or  sorry. He is  always transparent, always sincere. And he  trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual  reasoning,  when he comes to Christ, he comes as a  child. Kevin seems to  know God - to  really be friends with Him in a way that  is difficult for an  ‘educated’ person to  grasp. God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and  frustrations  with my Christianity I envy the security  Kevin has in his  simple faith.

It is then that I am most willing  to  admit that he has some divine knowledge  that rises above my mortal  questions  

It is then I realize that perhaps  he is  not the one with the handicap . I am. My  obligations, my fear, my  pride, my 
circumstances - they all become  disabilities when I do not trust  them to  God’s care

Who knows if Kevin comprehends  things I  can never learn? After all, he has spent  his whole life in that  kind of innocence,
praying after dark and soaking up the  goodness and love  of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of  heaven  are opened, and we are all amazed at how  close God really is to our  hearts,   I’ll  realize that God heard the simple prayers  of a boy who  believed that God lived  under his bed..

Kevin won’t be surprised at all!

Praise God - it’s finally clear!  It’s not red, it’s healed up nicely and there is nothing wrong with it!  All the gunk is gone - after nearly 2 months, it’s over! finally!  Yay!

I got this through an email and it was originally from mytgif.com

I thought it was really good and wanted to share it.

The Ant and the Contact Lens

(A True Story by Josh and Karen Zarandona)
  

Brenda was a young woman who was invited to go rock climbing.

Although she was scared to death, she went with 

her group to a tremendous granite cliff.

In spite of her fear, she put on her gear, took a hold on the rope,

and started up the face of that rock.

Well, she got to a ledge where she could take a breather.

As she was hanging on there, the safety rope snapped against

Brenda’s eye and knocked out her contact lens.

Well, here she is on a rock ledge, with hundreds of feet 

below her and hundreds of feet above her.  

Of course, she looked and looked, hoping the lens 

had landed on the ledge, but it just wasn’t there.

Here she was, far from home, her sight now blurry.

She was desperate and began to get upset,

so she prayed to the Lord to help her find it.

When she got to the top, a friend examined her eye

and her clothing for the lens, but there was no

contact lens to be found.  She sat down, despondent,

with the rest of the party, waiting for the rest of them

to make it up the face of the cliff.

She looked out across range after range of mountains,

thinking of that Bible verse that says, “The eyes of the Lord

run to and fro throughout the whole earth.”

 She thought, “Lord, You can see all these mountains.

You know every stone and leaf, and You know exactly

where my contact lens is.

Please help me.”

Finally, they walked down the trail to the bottom.

At the bottom there was a new party of climbers just starting

up the face of the cliff.  One of them shouted out,

 ”Hey, you guys!  Anybody lose a contact lens?”

Well, that would be startling enough,

 but you know why the climber saw it?

An ant was moving slowly across the face

of the rock, carrying it!

Brenda told me her father was a cartoonist. When she told him 

the incredible story of the ant, the prayer, and the contact lens,

he drew a picture of an ant lugging that contact lens

 with the words, “Lord, I don’t know why You want me to 

carry this thing.  I can’t eat it, and it’s awfully heavy.

But if this is what You want me to do,

I’ll carry it for You.”

I think it would probably do some good to 

occasionally say, “God, I don’t know why

you want me to carry this load.

  I can see no good in it and it’s awfully heavy.  

But, if you want me to carry it, I will.”

God doesn’t call the qualified. 
 

 He qualifies the called.

I’m the type of person who has to mentally pull something completely apart and reconstruct it to know how everything is going to go.  It doesn’t help the situation to do it four or five times.  This is called worry.  I try to organise myself and plan and strategize, this works alot of the time, but often it’s just another form of worry. 

Today’s “Our Daily Bread” spoke to me and gives you a practical exercise to use when you’re worrying.  I share it below.

The Peace-Of-Mind Game

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. —Psalm 23:1

In her down-to-earth book More Than Sparrows, Mary Welch tells of her discussion about worry with a group of teenagers. Although they were Christians, they were as worried as unbelievers about the common things of life. As she lovingly listened to them, an unusual idea came to her for a game they could play. It went like this:

Instead of saying, “I’m worried,” stop and say, “The Lord is my Shepherd.” Then add, “So I’m worried to death!” The students laughed at the absurdity of the idea, but they all promised to play this new “peace-of-mind” game.

Later, Mary received a phone call from a young woman who had been paralyzed by worry over an exam she had been dreading to take. She said, “I must tell you how the game helped me trust God today. As I froze with worry, I remembered to say, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd . . . so I’m afraid I’ll fail!’ Suddenly I felt the strangest peace of mind. I laughed at myself, then I took the exam—and I passed!”

Saying “The Lord is my Shepherd, and I am worried to death” is more than a mind game to point out the absurdity of worry. God can use this contradiction to bring us to a fuller trust in Him. —Joanie Yoder

Why worry when you can pray?
Trust Jesus, He’ll be your stay;
Don’t be a “doubting Thomas,” rest fully on His promise.
Why worry when you can pray?  —Peterson
© Renewal 1977 Singspiration, Inc.

Worry is the interest you pay on borrowed trouble.

Recently we have been seeking God’s will for our lives.  Sounds like a huge grandios statement, when in fact it’s rather simple.  Funnily enough most of the things about God are simple.  God’s will for my life (and that of my family) is for us to serve Him with the gifts He’s given us, whereever and whenever He asks us to.   So that leads me to these next questions.  How do I hear from God so that I know what gifts He’s given me, where He wants me to use them and when?  By being in a close relationship with Him.  Again, sounds simple, and it is.  Pray daily, read the bible daily and be with God daily.  It’s simple.

“For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11: 30