Brenda Wilbee's "Living With Ravens": #11: Jumping In To Help

Monday, October 24, 2016

#11: Jumping In To Help

"Brethren, do not be weary in well-doing."
--II Thessalonians 3:13 (RSV)

"What's this?" I asked, stooping to pick up what looked like a pretzel on the rug in front of the fireplace. "And this?" I wailed, gathering up the shattered ceramic pieces of what I now saw to be one of the old-fashioned Santa Clauses I collect.

"Oh, no!"

Blake, my thirteen-year-old son, heard my cry and came running to help pick up the pieces. "Oh, Blake, it's one one of my favorites!"

"Don't worry, Mum!" he declared, slapping me on the back to cheer me up. "I'll glue him back together for you!"

How wonderful it is, I thought, when my children do something nice, all on their own. Such as when I'm making a bed and they come around the other side to tug on the sheet. Or when I'm fixing dinner and they set the table without any prompting. Or when they volunteer to mend a broken ceramic piece!

Can it be any different with God?

Over the next few days, I watched Blake as he painstakingly pieced my little treasure together. The day he presented it to me like something brand new, I decided I wanted to be more like him--offering to do little things that bring others pleasure.

"Hey, Blake," I volunteered one afternoon, "let me do your chores, so you'll have more time for basket ball. Okay?"

Dear God, help me to find ways where I can volunteer instead of waiting to be told. I want to bring pleasure to You and to those You love.
___________
Originally published by Guideposts Daily Devotionals Sat. April 29, 1995.

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ABOUT "LIVING WITH RAVENS"

Reflections For Women Living In the Hard Places

Remember Elijah? He’s the Old Testament chap God assigned to take on the prevailing god Baal, a rather nasty sort. God of rain, fertility, and harvest, Baal demanded the sacrifice of babies in massive bonfires. Rituals involved eating feces. To shatter this illusion of power that came at such a high cost, God sent Elijah to tell King Ahab there wouldn't be rain until God said so. The people needed to know who was in charge--Jehovah God, who freely gave. The response from King Ahab and Queen Jezebel was less than embracing.

Elijah ran pell-mell for the desert to hide in the stony outcroppings of Cherith. All he’s got is a crummy little creek cutting through the stone of a beastly hot desert. Oh, yes, the ravens. Foul, glossy black these things, eating nothing all day but road kill. Yet in Elijah’s extreme deprivation and isolation and fear pummeling his gut, the ravens became God’s saving grace. They brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening. Who would have thought that carrion-eating birds could be a man’s only hope of survival? It’s almost offensive. At times, it feels offensive. But then, sometimes that’s what grace looks like.

I know. Not what we want. We want “cured,” “livable wages,” “love,” "restoration." We want the window when the door slams shut. We want so many things--except ravens. So it's easy to dismiss what God sends—we don't even see these creative gifts of grace in the chaos of our fear, grief, despair, and gut-wrenching loneliness.

LIVING WITH RAVENS is for women stuck in their own kind of Cherith. Perhaps some of my own reflections of God intervening in difficulties will resonate with others who face similar challenges.