Adeste Fideles

Your love, LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies. 

Psalm 36:5

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Gal. 5:22-23. 

We have been writing about the fruits of the Holy Spirit here on Kingdom Bloggers for several weeks, referencing Galatians 5:22. These fruits are what Paul says should be by-products (the dictionary defines fruit as a ‘sweet product’) of a life truly given over to Christ.

Because we are human, we will never produce these sweet fruits constantly—thus, the need for repentance and God’s grace. So, this latest fruit—faithfulness—is not to be a legalistic yoke, too heavy and difficult for us to bear. The Pharisees in Jesus’ day believed faithfulness was exemplified by following rules: if you did not follow the rules, you were not faithful. But Jesus chided the religious elitists:   “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former” (Matthew 23:23).

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. 1 Peter 4:10

Faithfulness is obedience out of love, not out of obligation, fear and duty. We love God because He first loved us, not the other way around.   Faithfulness is a reliance and undivided focus on the God who loves us: “Teach me your way, LORD, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name” (Psalm 86:11).

I have known people of great faith. They never had a headline, or wealth, or fame. They were anonymous individuals, except to those blessed enough to know them. I knew Vinny, a high school janitor, who was never embarrassed to show or share his faith. Once, at the end of a school day, he shared stories of the God he served with a co-worker in an office, not realizing the P.A. system was on. Teachers and principals, who barely gave him notice before, were suddenly hearing stories of Vinny’s—and God’s—faithfulness.

I knew Cathy, Mary and Maureen, three amazing women, who clung to God as they each battled cancer. They did not, as Job’s wife urged him to do as he endured terrible loss and illness, “curse God and die.” They exuded love and grace and faithfulness, even while being real about their fears, their pain and not wanting to leave loved ones behind too soon. Could I? Would I?

Praise Him, for the Gospel is about God’s grace and faithfulness to a humanity in desperate need. God proves His faithfulness everyday: each new morning, he bestows a great mercy by allowing me to have another day to breathe, to show love, to experience forgiveness, to make up for the losses of yesterday.

But what if He did not give me another day? Here is Job's answer: “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him” (Job 13:15). God cannot be anything but faithful. That is His character—ever true, the most faithful of lovers. His story is one of incredible patience, compassion and fidelity towards a people who time and again only proved themselves unfaithful.

My Dad, Jim Vick by Jenna Vick Silliman

My father, Jim Vick, has positively influenced me in many ways. Like my father, I love music, dancing, singing, and laughter. Growing up, whenever my dad was home, he would have music on the radio or stereo or he’d pick up his guitar and play music. He liked to have fun and make us laugh with whatever jokes he’d heard, by telling a story, or by singing a silly song. Now I am like that too! I’m such a silly mom (The name Silliman fits!) that one of my son’s friends said to me, “You are more like a kid than a mom.” I took that as a compliment!

Dad likes to sing and whenever the mood strikes, he sings out with gusto. He sings all kinds of songs. Last summer we visited him in Northern California and I told him about some of the songs we sang at the nursing homes in our sing-a-longs on Wednesdays. As I knew would happen, we ended up having a sing-a-long right then and there. We sang, “Take me out to the ball game…” It didn’t matter that we were in a restaurant! Hahaha!

I like to think about how, as my dad’s firstborn child, I influenced him and “broke HIM in” to the world of babies, bottles, diaper-changing, and sleepless nights. Dad likes to tell the story of the first time he saw me. I was born at St. Joseph’s Hospital in San Francisco, four days after Valentine’s Day. Dad said, “They put you in my arms and you were all red and squallin’ and you had this big wrinkle of skin on your forehead. I thought to myself, ‘What have I done! I’ve created a monster!’”

We lived in San Carlos, about a half an hour south of San Francisco, and Dad commuted on the train to the city. He sold insurance bid bonds to contractors for a living for almost thirty years. Though he didn’t particularly enjoy selling, he did what he had to do make a living and provide for his family. That attitude of sacrificial giving of your life for your loved ones has been a shining Christ-like example to me my whole life. I was a “Daddy’s Girl” and sought to please him every chance I got. This has served me well in life because now I’m my Heavenly Father’s “Daddy’s Girl.” I delight in His Presence and seek to please Him.

After school I waited on the sidewalk for Daddy to walk home from the train station. I roller skated, played with my Barbie doll, or bounced my red, rubber ball to pass the time till Daddy got home. Many was the day I didn’t see my father because he left for work before I woke up and he worked late and didn’t get home till after I went to bed. When I spotted him I squealed with glee, ran to him with open arms for a hug, and put my little hand into his big one to walk him home. I loved to see his monthly train ticket—a long strip of paper with multi-colored squares and little holes punched on the dates. At the end of the month I was thrilled when he gave me his expired ticket. I collected them in a scrap book and still have them to this day.

Some of my earliest memories of dancing were rocking out with Dad in our living room to music on the radio. When I was little, my dad would pick me up and spin me around. Maybe that’s why I like twirling around so much when I dance! He now watches old movies of musicals and dance performances more than he dances himself. He’s 80 years old now and doesn’t boogie as much as he used to. However, on a recent visit we all went out to eat and there was some rhythm and blues playing and I noticed he enjoyed a little dancing down the hallway on the way to the men’s room.

Whenever there is a teachable moment, my dad takes the opportunity to give a lesson. I still think of him when I fold a letter into three equal parts, when I tie my shoes, or when I introduce myself to someone and make a point to say upon leaving, “Nice to meet you!”

I learned to love the ocean from my dad. Some of our happiest memories were Saturdays spent at the Pacific Ocean beaches near San Francisco. There is something so refreshing and invigorating about breathing in the salt sea air, listening to the roar, feeling the wind in your hair, and watching wave after wave crash and smoothly slide out onto the sand. I also love rock hunting along the shore like my father. I never get tired of picking up a rock that catches my attention and marveling over the beauty of it. Rocks rock! I learned that from my dad.

My father is a very positive man. He taught me to try to always say something nice about people. He told me you can always compliment a person’s smile. My father is very charming and in his day you would describe him as tall, dark, and handsome. Though he is stooped over and white haired now, I see him through love-filled eyes as one of the most good-lookin’ men you’d ever meet. I love you, Daddy!

Stepping out of my comfort zone into God's blessing

Last week I shared about how something that my son Daniel had talked about this past January caused me to re-evaluate if I'm using the gitfs and opportunities God's giving me to the fullest. I'd been inspired at that time to step out of my comfort zone and into some opportunities that God kept bringing my way.

If you know me at all, two adjectives that could well describe me are "shy" and "reserved". That's just me. I'm not a person who likes getting up in front of others and being the center of attention. It's a total turn on for me to get to work behind the scenes and bless people when they don't even know about me. I'm one of those people that is sometimes practically invisible, while I notice a lot about others.

A couple of years ago the woman in charge of women's ministries at our church approached me and asked that I be on the women's ministry core leadership team. After praying about it, I accepted. I adore women and enjoy getting to do things to reach out to them both in the church and community. A big part of the team is to pray and receive the vision/direction for what God wants to do for, and through, the women in our local church for the coming year. Then take that vision and plan out the calendar and "events", and do all the stuff required to make these things happen. Planning and administrative type activities come naturally for me. Plus I get to do lots of work that no one ever knows about but that blesses people - just my thing.

But several times, for more than a two year time period, I kept being asked to lead one of the large women's Bible studies that meet at our church. While there are few things that I enjoy more than studying the Word with other women, the idea of being the person who was in front of, or leading a large group, sounded totally unappealing to me. I kept thinking about how anxious I tend to feel in social settings, how tongue tied I get, how I don't at all perceive myself to be a particularly likable, charismatic, or popular type person. So I kept refusing.

But then God used what Daniel shared to make me think about the fact that God obviously doesn't expect me to be a super star (trust me, I have NO super star qualities), but He does want me to be faithful. He also kept bringing the apostle Paul's words from 2 Corinthians 12:10 about how when Paul was weak, then God could be strong, to my mind. It seemed to me that God was speaking to my heart that He wanted to use weak, shy, reserved, me and that because of my weakness it would make me rely more on Him and that way it would be a God-thing instead of a me-thing. So I finally agreed to lead one of the large women's Bible studies at our church.

And you know what? I absolutely loved it!

I know that lots of women from both our church and our community came faithfully. The study was set up so that there was a workbook with homework during the week prior to our meeting. We had a discussion time when we broke into small groups and shared, and I heard women tell about how God was working through His Word and His spirit in their lives during the time between our meetings. God was using the curriculum, His Word, relationships, and circumstances to cause change and growth, and produce faithfulness, in their lives. I never cease to be excited about God working in the lives of women!

A woman who was new to our church made sure to tell me later how comfortable, welcome, included, and accepted she felt. Another woman went out of her way to let me know that she really liked the atmosphere; that she appreciated that we had an agenda and (by the grace of God) didn't constantly go off on "rabbit trails", but at the same time were open to God's work, leading, and ministry to specific women in their lives. She felt like the agenda was never more important than herself of any other woman in the room.

I noticed that between or before meetings, that if I thought about me facilitating the event, I felt that sick oh-I-don't-want-to-be-visually-obviously-up-frontedly-in charge feeling. But if I kept my focus on the individual women in the group,that God kept giving me an intense love for each woman there. I'd find myself thinking about them, praying for them, seeing exciting things that God had in store for them. I got to write them notes during the week, or pray for specific things for them as the Holy Spirit prompted. Then we'd meet and I'd find out why God had me pray, and what He was doing. God was working in their lives, God was ministering to them, God was blessing them - and He let me be part of it!

There's a new women's large group Bible study starting in the end of September, and this time I didn't have to think twice before I agreed to facilitate one of the two times it will be offered. I'm looking forward to what God's gonna do.

What about you, can you think of a time when God seemed to be prompting you to serve in a way that was totally not you, that was outside of your comfort zone? What happened?

Choose this day... freedom or bondage

I am writing this blog from a place I've never been before. I am in a dorm room. No I'm not getting a child into college for summer school. I'm not visiting one of my children on a college campus either. I'm living in the dorm.

Now before you worry that I escaped South Dakota or left my husband, rumors can spread so fast. Let me explain. I am here because I have begun a doctoral program. In three years, with God's help, grace and a lot of hard work, I will be Dr. Joyce A. Lighari. I've even been thinking about changing my name for professional purposes. When I write my book I may want to change not only the names of some of those who are in the book but my own.

It's a strange experience. It's sort of like camp without the pool and free time. No late night campfires where we toast marshmallows and all come to Jesus either. I am in a rather stark dorm room all by myself. I share a bathroom with some one else. Other than that, it's just me. Breakfast at 7 a.m. - short breaks for lunch and supper between classes that start at 8 a.m. and end at 9, 10, or somethings 11 p.m.

So what does this have to do with freedom? Actually it has a lot to do with freedom. I'm not talking about that feeling of freedom that a college student has when they first leave home. I am taking about a freedom to pursue the calling of God on my life.

God has been doing a lot of rearranging in me. I feel a bit like Moses. God sent me to the backside of the desert (South Dakota). Now in my old age, I'm back in school. I'm back in a dorm. I'm being further changed and rearranged so that I can walk in a freedom I've never know before.

As part of this process, we've been reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Okay, I know, you must have read it. Just like you, I read it in the 90's too. It sounded good. Doesn't conflict with Biblical principles - doesn't particularly emphasize them as such either... Unfortunately, life got chaotic again for me right after I read it - the bottom of everything fell out. When I picked it up this time, I realized the only thing I clearly remembered was that picture of the woman.

Perhaps because of the all the calamities, chaos and such of my life, I was finally really ready to read this book. You know God uses everything, including Stephen Covey's 7 habits. I'd heard it before but when I read, between stimulus and response there is choice, I think I had an epiphany. Every since then, ever since it got deep down in my spirit, I realized I was free to chose.

Obviously the most important thing in life we ever chose is our response to God. That brings the greatest freedom. However, if we don't exercise our now re-born freewill to chose for ourselves how we are going to react, we are never free. We never know freedom. We destructively follow false Gods and false patterns. We never know the wonderful person God made us to be; we never let Him finish His work in us. We just react to everything. Crisis hits, and we react - we could respond by listening to the voice of God who will tell us what our response should be.

I feel more free than I have in a long time. This Independence Day, I am celebrating my independence from the dictates of other people, their attitudes, their opinions, their judgments and my own false beliefs. I may be too old to live in a dorm, but here I am. I'm older than almost anyone, but I'm here. I had the freedom to chose to live my life for God's glory and service.

We've been asked to write our personal mission statement. I didn't want to... still don't. But as I've thought about it, I discovered that I desire more than anything to have a legacy of faithfulness so that I may hear some day, Well done, good and faithful servant.

I'm No Dare Devil

I’ve gone through lots of struggles in my life. That is an understatement. If you want to know more, check out my own blog. I am writing about my early life. I am writing about God's faithfulness. My theme song has been Through It All.

I’ve written on this blog before about God never leaving me or forsaking me. You can read it here.  The fact that God doesn’t leave us is one of those things that you can usually agree with in your head, but your heart often wonders.

A number of years ago I was after God with full force. I wanted to swim in the river of God – in fact, I had dived headfirst right in. I wanted it all. I didn’t want to miss a thing. I am a life-long Pentecostal. I had read about Azusa Street and other revivals. I was sure this was my turn to experience these wondrous things. I wasn’t going to miss it.

A friend and I would go to the church every day during lunch to pray. We’d let ourselves in, turn on some worship music and storm heaven for revival. We began to see it. Then the bottom fell out. Death, calamity, betrayal, accusations, and a host of other things devastated my life to the point I could barely function. Where I was leading the charge for revival, now I could barely drag myself to church. When I did, I would often wander to the back of the church and sit on the floor. If my church family didn’t love me so much, they probably would have asked me to leave.

It was definitely one of the times I wondered where God was – this “Jesus and Me” stuff wasn’t working. I was sure I had been forsaken.  

One day I was talking to my pastor. I said remember that poster that you’ve seen. The one where the rope has a knot at the end and the cat is holding on for dear life.  

When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. 

I said,

I have no knot and I’m not hanging on any more.

His answer was astoundingly profound and something I’ll never forget. He agreed. I had stopped hanging on. He said.

Joyce you are in a freefall. It’s scary. You don’t know whether you’re going to hit the ground and die. Nevertheless, Jesus is there, and He’s going to catch you.

Sometimes, we can’t hold on. Sometimes our own strength just is not enough. Sometimes our world ends. Instead of diving in the river of God swimming and splashing in blessing, we just dive into an abyss and think we’ll die.

Jesus caught me. Have you ever been a free-fall? How did Jesus catch you?

Save at Dime Savings Bank

I’ve written before about witnessing. I’ve pounded the pavement in Brooklyn NY with the Roman Road. I’ve tallied souls and imagined notches in my salvation belt because of them. I’ve witness on the street corners in days gone by. I’ve looked at street maps as strategies were developed for winning souls. I even carried a bible with a bright red HiBA cover on top of school books to testify that I was a Christian. I’ve worn my salvation beads, WWJD bracelets and all manner of holy junk.

All these righteous activities were to lead up to saying the prayer. You know that prayer. We call it the Sinner’s Prayer.  I may get in trouble with my fellow bloggers, but often this prayer is little more than an exercise in guilt reduction. As if magic words were spoken the guilt of sin disappears, at least temporarily.

One of my earliest recollections of evangelism was a person who showed up at our young people’s meeting. It was never called youth group nor did we have a youth pastor. Friday night was “young people’s” where the same pastor who preached on Sunday, shared the word with the youth. Older folk were welcome and there was no Foosball, ping-pong or pool.

He looked rough by our standards. I am not sure where he came from or why he came. He was not Norwegian either. On Friday, we had a street meeting by the Dime Savings Bank at 5^th and 54^th in Brooklyn. They even let us use some of their electricity for our “meeting.” Perhaps they thought any kind of saving was good… <grin-okay, I know that was bad.>

As I think of him, I wonder if he had been to that meeting. Or if he were an invited friend of someone. I really don’t recall. Nevertheless, he was there. Right in the midst of clean scrubbed Pentecostal Norwegian youth.  The Holy Spirit convicted him that night, the solution, the prayer.

We invited him to go to the ice cream parlor with us. Like the Dunkin Donuts after church that became part of my children’s religious tradition, ours was the ice cream parlor. Later we would meander through the streets of Brooklyn until all the girls were safely escorted home by the boys. Someone offered him a life saver candy on that walk that night. He refused, saying he had already had a lifesaver in church. Boys were we excited. We had just caught fresh fish-we had been fishers of men. He was reeled in for sure.

I know this is laced with a lot of sarcasm. I don’t mean to sound so harsh. I don’t know what was in that guys heart that night. I do know we never saw him again. Maybe later, sometime in his life, he remembered that night and sought the Lord. I just don’t know.

I prayed that prayer at least a dozen times as a child. I was fairly riddled with guilt for all sorts of sinful infractions like playing cards, wearing make-up or looking at a boy. The prayer didn’t work. What worked for me were faithful Sunday School teachers and other adults in my life showing me the love of Christ.

If I have influenced anyone to faith, I would say it that children I taught in Sunday School. I don’t ever remember offering the prayer. I may have because of the pressure of my tradition that we all must “repeat after me.”

I taught them the scripture. I planted seeds in their life. Hopefully, I showed them that they were loved. I picked up children all manner of children and brought them with me to church. I sat on the floor with them playing games – games with a purpose. We sang about going on a trip on the Vacation Bible Ship. We made crafts. We laughed. We cried. We shared life. I told them about Jesus. I prayed for them. I still do.

I’d love to tell you that they are all missionaries or in full time ministry. Unfortunately, few of them seem to be serving the Lord. Maybe what I did with them was no more effective than the repeat after me prayer the guy prayed in young people’s so many years ago. 

What I do know is that God calls us to be faithful. He calls us to ask WWJD? The answer is usually not words or even prayers.  Jesus shared Himself. He gave Himself. If I am to share my faith, I have to die. I have to give myself away. I’m may not be very good at it, but I do know what I am supposed to do. Thankfully each day I get a do-over.

I may have missed the theme this week, but this is what is on my heart.

Lamentations 3:22-24 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness.