Kim Aldrich
abide: to remain stable or fixed in some state or condition; to continue; to remain.
abet: to contribute, as an assistant or instigator, to the commission of an offense.
It had been the sweetest season of my life to date. Seeds had been planted, roots had gone deep, and new growth had not only started, but remained. Each day my relationship with God was becoming more and more the air I breathed and the food I ate. For once in my life, I was truly abiding.
As if that wasn’t enough, over time the most marvelous “fruit” began to appear. Deepening and expanding friendships. Overflowing creativity and passion. An unmistakable sense of purpose. Childlike joy over the biggest or smallest blessing from my Father’s hand. Even the ability to laugh at things that had tripped me up or stunted my growth in the past. His life was flowing through me so continuously that I was no longer being held back by my own frailties. In my weakness, He was strong!
Then came the test. The undoing. The painful reminder that the deepest truths of the kingdom may be simple…but at times they’re anything but easy. Especially with an enemy on the prowl who knows our blind spots.
At first it was the small things that distracted my attention. A slight self-consciousness over a past area of hurt. Just a bit of scar tissue, nothing to worry about. Maybe a little extra preparation here or a bit of self-protection there will keep my heart safe. Then a task or two that needed doing, but came at a slightly quicker pace than I felt I could handle and still stay grounded. Not a problem, it won’t last long. I’ll just hurry a little faster and get it done, I told myself.
Then circumstances from without and within—you know the kind—the ones that disorient and unnerve you just enough to put you off balance without actually alerting you to any real danger. An inconvenience. A disappointment. A slight humiliation. A physical hardship or unmet expectation, or both. One after the other, after the other, after the other...until I no longer knew which way to turn or which end was up. Until (and this is the important part) I even lost the presence of mind to call for help. For I could have. Even at this point, I could have. But I didn’t.
True, I sent up a few half-hearted pleas, but nothing even remotely approaching the simple, gut-level communication I’d known before. Just a fruitless “wail of travail.” No repentance. No connection. No true transaction with God. No stopping everything and deciding I must have God or nothing else. For that would’ve involved actually stopping…the one thing I felt I couldn’t afford to do. Like Martha, I had become “troubled by many things” yet satisfied by nothing.
And all the while, my enemy circled and prowled with a satisfied smile. He examined both his handiwork and mine and said, “It is good.” I hit my knees. I shook my head. How was this possible??? Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined myself “aiding and abetting” such evil. Never in a trillion years would I have knowingly cooperated with his plans. But the evidence was irrefutable: Discontent. Shredded feelings. Confusion. Faithlessness. Despair. All my beautiful fruit had been replaced by the hideous produce of darkness. And I hadn’t even seen it coming. Or had I?
Gradually I began to recognize certain warning signs I’d previously overlooked. In hindsight’s glaring x-ray vision, my own fear, independence, and self-obsession were impossible to miss. And I repented. And repented. And when I was done, I worshipped.
I’d like to say the road to reconnection has been easy, but honestly it hasn’t. There’ve been false starts and setbacks, and more than a few tears. Some days my “branches” still ache. Trips to the woodshed are like that. Though correction and restoration are instantaneous, the bruises left by “aiding and abetting” can take a while to heal. But oh the joy of knowing the enemy’s plan is foiled! And oh the delight of rejoining God’s plan through simple steps of obedience!
Though life gets complicated, the “abiding” truth we can count on is still refreshingly clear: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15: 5).
Showing posts with label Abiding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abiding. Show all posts
Thursday, October 14, 2010
HIDING OR ABIDING?
Kim Aldrich
“I am the vine; you are the branches.” It sounds pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? “Remain in me, and I will remain in you.” What could be simpler? And yet, as my old youth pastor used to say: It’s simple, but it’s not easy.
Of course, it’s easy to abide when you’re at a retreat center surrounded by Christians or on vacation in Kauai (well, usually) but on a day-to-day basis how many of us truly abide in Christ? How many of us really even know what that means, much less how to actually do it on a regular basis?
A while back, I was confronted with that question for myself personally. Am I abiding in Christ? Am I truly walking with Him day-to-day, in a Vine and branches sort of way? And the answer that came back was unsettling, to say the least. I discovered that I was, at best, an “intermittent abider.” I tended to abide when my schedule went well, when my quiet times were consistent, and when I sensed the Lord’s presence the most. And in-between? Well, uh…in the infamous words of Paul Reiser…“not so much.”
Don’t get me wrong, I almost always intended to abide—and for years I actually thought I was. But it slowly began to dawn on me that those numerous in-between times were characterized much more by hunkering down and “just getting through it” than by actively trusting and abiding in Christ. For a veteran Christian of four decades, this was a startling realization! Apparently much of what I’d considered “trusting the Lord” had actually been “trusting myself” until I felt it was safe to trust the Lord again. Thump…the realization hit me like a ton of branches. In reality, I’d done far less abiding…and far more ducking and hiding. I’d done far more laying low and waiting til the storms passed than actually trusting the Vinedresser to quiet those storms or work them for my good.
But thankfully God in His kindness didn’t just leave me there in a heap. He gently but firmly lifted me up, dusted the branches out of my hair, and led me down a path of abiding I’d never experienced before. He began showing me, step by step, how to connect my heart to His, like a branch to a Vine. And once again, the words of my old youth pastor echoed through my mind: It’s simple, but it’s not easy. Yet, as I actually began trusting Him—in daily bite-sized steps of obedience—staying connected to the Vine became easier and easier. Although I continue to learn in fits and starts—and it’s been anything but “a perfect hundred meters” since—I’m slowly but surely starting to experience the abiding joy of…well, abiding!
It can be as straightforward as focusing on Him instead of the thing that’s frustrating me, or as complex as asking Him to help me unravel my thoughts when I’m so confused I don’t even know what I think. But either way, it involves simple, lovely choices day after day that eventually allow my heart to realize…Even in my weakness, He is there. Even in my doubts, He is there. Even in my willfulness and stubbornness, He is still there for me, if I let Him be. And slowly, but surely, I’ve found myself increasingly able to stop self-protecting and hunkering down and trying to arrange circumstances, til at last I find myself just standing there, connected to Him…aware that even my very life itself flows from His…and realizing that even the most devastating situation I can possibly imagine couldn’t really disconnect me from my Beloved…unless I let it.
I still have much, much more to learn about abiding. In fact, I’m probably still in the remedial class for those who’ve been walking with the Lord for as long as I have! Yet I’m also slowly-but-surely learning to recognize the difference between times I think I’m abiding, and times I actually am. And that difference is palpable. Tangible. The difference between life and death.
I can barely express the indescribable sweetness of letting your heart rest in that kind of connection to the Vine…letting His life-giving sap flow through your veins so freely that absolutely nothing else satisfies. It sure beats the heck out of “hunkering down” any day of the week—and twice on Sundays!
“I am the vine; you are the branches.” It sounds pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? “Remain in me, and I will remain in you.” What could be simpler? And yet, as my old youth pastor used to say: It’s simple, but it’s not easy.
Of course, it’s easy to abide when you’re at a retreat center surrounded by Christians or on vacation in Kauai (well, usually) but on a day-to-day basis how many of us truly abide in Christ? How many of us really even know what that means, much less how to actually do it on a regular basis?
A while back, I was confronted with that question for myself personally. Am I abiding in Christ? Am I truly walking with Him day-to-day, in a Vine and branches sort of way? And the answer that came back was unsettling, to say the least. I discovered that I was, at best, an “intermittent abider.” I tended to abide when my schedule went well, when my quiet times were consistent, and when I sensed the Lord’s presence the most. And in-between? Well, uh…in the infamous words of Paul Reiser…“not so much.”
Don’t get me wrong, I almost always intended to abide—and for years I actually thought I was. But it slowly began to dawn on me that those numerous in-between times were characterized much more by hunkering down and “just getting through it” than by actively trusting and abiding in Christ. For a veteran Christian of four decades, this was a startling realization! Apparently much of what I’d considered “trusting the Lord” had actually been “trusting myself” until I felt it was safe to trust the Lord again. Thump…the realization hit me like a ton of branches. In reality, I’d done far less abiding…and far more ducking and hiding. I’d done far more laying low and waiting til the storms passed than actually trusting the Vinedresser to quiet those storms or work them for my good.
But thankfully God in His kindness didn’t just leave me there in a heap. He gently but firmly lifted me up, dusted the branches out of my hair, and led me down a path of abiding I’d never experienced before. He began showing me, step by step, how to connect my heart to His, like a branch to a Vine. And once again, the words of my old youth pastor echoed through my mind: It’s simple, but it’s not easy. Yet, as I actually began trusting Him—in daily bite-sized steps of obedience—staying connected to the Vine became easier and easier. Although I continue to learn in fits and starts—and it’s been anything but “a perfect hundred meters” since—I’m slowly but surely starting to experience the abiding joy of…well, abiding!
It can be as straightforward as focusing on Him instead of the thing that’s frustrating me, or as complex as asking Him to help me unravel my thoughts when I’m so confused I don’t even know what I think. But either way, it involves simple, lovely choices day after day that eventually allow my heart to realize…Even in my weakness, He is there. Even in my doubts, He is there. Even in my willfulness and stubbornness, He is still there for me, if I let Him be. And slowly, but surely, I’ve found myself increasingly able to stop self-protecting and hunkering down and trying to arrange circumstances, til at last I find myself just standing there, connected to Him…aware that even my very life itself flows from His…and realizing that even the most devastating situation I can possibly imagine couldn’t really disconnect me from my Beloved…unless I let it.
I still have much, much more to learn about abiding. In fact, I’m probably still in the remedial class for those who’ve been walking with the Lord for as long as I have! Yet I’m also slowly-but-surely learning to recognize the difference between times I think I’m abiding, and times I actually am. And that difference is palpable. Tangible. The difference between life and death.
I can barely express the indescribable sweetness of letting your heart rest in that kind of connection to the Vine…letting His life-giving sap flow through your veins so freely that absolutely nothing else satisfies. It sure beats the heck out of “hunkering down” any day of the week—and twice on Sundays!
CUT FLOWERS
Kim Aldrich
The other day as I sat in my kitchen, one of my pastor’s recent sermons came to mind. I found myself chuckling: I remembered the kids reading “expiration dates” on various food items he’d brought in from home, including the Twinkie, which was so full of preservatives it would apparently last forever! Then I sobered up as I remembered the serious analogy the pastor had drawn from this lighthearted game of show and tell: that we all have an expiration date because of sin—and unless we deal with that terminal condition, nothing we value, including our very lives, will truly “keep.”
As I sat there thinking, my mind began to wander to the beautiful flowers on the dining room table in front of me. A Valentine gift from my husband, they were really starting to come into their own now. Over the past few days the arrangement had almost doubled in size because some of the buds that had originally been closed were now opening up in full splendor. A bouquet that had started out with only small red and purple flowers now boasted extravagant lavender and ivory blossoms as well. It was truly breathtaking!
But in an instant, a new realization changed my whole perspective. These are cut flowers, I thought. They’re going to die. Even though the new buds had blossomed and were behaving for all the world like a “live” plant, every single one of these flowers was, in fact, already dead. The truth then struck with double force as I suddenly pictured a pruned rose bush standing next to the cut flowers. The rose bush looked ugly, and quite honestly, dead as a doornail, while the bouquet looked fresh and alive and full of promise. But the reverse was actually true! At most, the cut flowers would last only a few days, while the rose bush would, all things being equal, probably live for years and years to come, possibly even producing fuller and more beautiful roses as a result of its barren season of pruning. I felt a strange mixture of sadness and excitement.
My mind then wandered back to my beautiful Valentine bouquet sitting in front of me. No woman, when her husband or boyfriend brings her flowers, thinks to herself, “Hey buddy, what’s the idea of bringing me a bunch of dead plants?” But unromantic as it sounds, that’s the reality! And no one who looks at a worldly person who seems “to have it all” thinks, “Oh, that poor person is dead in their sins.” But they are. They may blossom and grow intellectually, creatively, financially, even relationally; but spiritually speaking, unless they’ve been made alive in Christ, according to the Bible they’re already dead. And when they reach their “expiration date” this side of heaven, they will suffer loss—regardless of the lush foliage or breathtaking blooms they may seem to have sprouted. They’re rootless, and cannot sustain life.
Depressing as this sounds (especially just after Valentine’s Day!) there is still good news. VERY good news. Because the exact opposite of this scenario is also true. Those whose lives are truly grounded in God (who have had their sins forgiven and been made “alive in Christ”) really, truly will live forever! Even if, during times of pruning, their branches happen to look barren and dead. Because what’s most important is their roots. ROOTS LIVE: cut flowers don’t. It’s as simple as that.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.” (John 15:5-6, NIV)
In all honesty, I will probably still be delighted the next time my husband brings me flowers. After all, it’s a beautiful gesture, and very romantic! But from now on, cut flowers will also be a “fresh” reminder to cry out with all my heart, “Oh Lord, plant my roots DEEP in You!”
The other day as I sat in my kitchen, one of my pastor’s recent sermons came to mind. I found myself chuckling: I remembered the kids reading “expiration dates” on various food items he’d brought in from home, including the Twinkie, which was so full of preservatives it would apparently last forever! Then I sobered up as I remembered the serious analogy the pastor had drawn from this lighthearted game of show and tell: that we all have an expiration date because of sin—and unless we deal with that terminal condition, nothing we value, including our very lives, will truly “keep.”
As I sat there thinking, my mind began to wander to the beautiful flowers on the dining room table in front of me. A Valentine gift from my husband, they were really starting to come into their own now. Over the past few days the arrangement had almost doubled in size because some of the buds that had originally been closed were now opening up in full splendor. A bouquet that had started out with only small red and purple flowers now boasted extravagant lavender and ivory blossoms as well. It was truly breathtaking!
But in an instant, a new realization changed my whole perspective. These are cut flowers, I thought. They’re going to die. Even though the new buds had blossomed and were behaving for all the world like a “live” plant, every single one of these flowers was, in fact, already dead. The truth then struck with double force as I suddenly pictured a pruned rose bush standing next to the cut flowers. The rose bush looked ugly, and quite honestly, dead as a doornail, while the bouquet looked fresh and alive and full of promise. But the reverse was actually true! At most, the cut flowers would last only a few days, while the rose bush would, all things being equal, probably live for years and years to come, possibly even producing fuller and more beautiful roses as a result of its barren season of pruning. I felt a strange mixture of sadness and excitement.
My mind then wandered back to my beautiful Valentine bouquet sitting in front of me. No woman, when her husband or boyfriend brings her flowers, thinks to herself, “Hey buddy, what’s the idea of bringing me a bunch of dead plants?” But unromantic as it sounds, that’s the reality! And no one who looks at a worldly person who seems “to have it all” thinks, “Oh, that poor person is dead in their sins.” But they are. They may blossom and grow intellectually, creatively, financially, even relationally; but spiritually speaking, unless they’ve been made alive in Christ, according to the Bible they’re already dead. And when they reach their “expiration date” this side of heaven, they will suffer loss—regardless of the lush foliage or breathtaking blooms they may seem to have sprouted. They’re rootless, and cannot sustain life.
Depressing as this sounds (especially just after Valentine’s Day!) there is still good news. VERY good news. Because the exact opposite of this scenario is also true. Those whose lives are truly grounded in God (who have had their sins forgiven and been made “alive in Christ”) really, truly will live forever! Even if, during times of pruning, their branches happen to look barren and dead. Because what’s most important is their roots. ROOTS LIVE: cut flowers don’t. It’s as simple as that.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.” (John 15:5-6, NIV)
In all honesty, I will probably still be delighted the next time my husband brings me flowers. After all, it’s a beautiful gesture, and very romantic! But from now on, cut flowers will also be a “fresh” reminder to cry out with all my heart, “Oh Lord, plant my roots DEEP in You!”
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