Monday, July 19, 2010

Conflicted....

I assume we are at least doing something right, as another coffee pot was executed this past week. Sure, just as Vacation Bible School was about to begin...in the cross hairs of the enemy we remain.

I could accept the free Gevalia coffee pot dying, and the $20.00 Mr. Coffee, but this was a blooming Kitchen Aid for crying out loud. The enemy of our souls is not happy with us. I guess he figures after he hears me get up, he can stop the "Oh no, she's up." in his wicked and evil heart, if he can just keep me from the java. I have stood in victory with a percolator on the stove!

Of course, the coffee is not ready when I awake. Not wanting to give the enemy a foothold, I was unwilling to stay the percolator~on~the~stove course. I want hot coffee to go with the enemies "Oh no, she's up." and so I have had to make my way to left over coffee each morning to warm it in the microwave...the hand-me-down one that I received when the enemy went on his small appliance killing spree back in May. It has worked just fine, but I knew there had to be a better way...but I was stuck and saw no way out.

....and then I got to serve this week at VBS. I spent the week in the kitchen with old and dear friends. We have not been attendees of this church in almost five years and so I assumed I would be treated a little bit more like a guest.

Um, no.

I was as abused as a kid sister returning home for a visit to Mom and Dad's. I was given dishes to clean and food to prepare without mercy. At the end of the last day, I politely asked the director, my dear friend, Miss Amy, if she needed any help before I took my bone weary family home from the heat of the day. I assumed that being a good Baptist lady, Miss Amy, would say "No, we got it. Thank you so much for serving and being a part of our VBS team..." That is not what she said. Instead I heard some of the harshest words my heart has ever received.

"Oh, could I ever use the help! Thank you so much. Send those kids of yours into the sanctuary to start cleaning up. You can start over there."

I never saw it coming. Next thing I knew, Maggie at the tender age of 6, was busy asking Amy's husband where he wanted the extension cords. Lizzy and her friend were walking around with a shop vac strapped to their backs looking like a skit for Ghost Busters and Caity was given charge of the holiest of holies...Amy's VBS closet.

By the time we left I was begging Amy, AKA: Pharaoh, to set my people free.

Glad that is not our church anymore....or not so much. I met the pastor. And while I understand that Pastor Howard was totin' a gun because it was a western themed VBS...it's the fact that he was totin' a real gun that made my heart pound with admiration!

I learned a lot this week at VBS in that hot kitchen. A lesson that has left my heart conflicted about where we attend now. While our present church also does not have air conditioning in the kitchen, I learned something so profound in my heart that I will never be the same...

I ran out the very night I learned this powerful lesson to purchase something that would change how I approach the throne of grace forever each morning:


To be used with:


Don't think the enemy is done with us yet. The electric coffee percolator has a three pronged plug and the timer only accepts a two prong. It is in these moments I miss my daddy the most. I know for a fact he would have cut off that third prong and made the whole thing work from the get go. But I have learned to wait on the Lord's perfect timing. I know he is seasoning me for our quiet time together...that and I married Mr. Safety who would not let me risk the potential electrical fire hazard.

I've decided this is a time to be content in these very circumstances the Lord seems fit to place me in.

Waiting on my coffee, waiting on answers, waiting on where He has called us...Even as I wait I remain trusting His word to be forever true:

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

He never, ever asks us to wait beyond what our measure of faith can bear.




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