Gary and I made plans to go to a museum we’d never before attended because its admission was pricey and most of the attractions in D.C. are free, so we’ve kinda gotten used to that. But we’d heard good things about it, so we set aside the time and the money.

We went online to purchase our tickets only to discover that the day we’d chosen was free for a special promotion.

Part of me was so ready to pay, we’d psyched ourselves up for it and budgeted for it, so I almost wanted to. But the checkout reaffirmed that the price of our tickets was absolutely nothing.

That got me thinking about salvation.

So often, so very often, I want to pay for it. While I know I can do nothing to contribute to the incredible price Jesus paid and I need only accept it, I find myself thinking, “But what if I gave something? What if I did some extra works that weren’t part of what you made me to do? What if I paid just a little?”

I can’t and I know it. The Bible says all my works are filthy rags and if you know what that translates to, you know it’s really disgusting so I’m so not going there this morning. But that doesn’t stop me wanting to do something to buy God’s favor. It’s like when someone gives you a lavish gift that you can in no way pay back.

There was such an exchange when I was a teen. My aunt, for reasons known only to her, she never told me, bought me a necklace of my birthstones for my seventeenth birthday. It was much more than the usual exchange of presents. So, wanting to do more than the usual thank you, I made her a card—the prettiest I could with all the supplies I had. I think I remember even putting lace on it. I was trying to pay back beauty with beauty. But the disparity made my effort ridiculous, though she thanked me for it. But she had been content with my gratitude and didn’t need the card.

How much more extreme is it when I try to pay anything toward the salvation that I had no ability to achieve? After all, He is content with my gratitude.

 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9, ESV)

With the ticket, with the necklace, I could only accept. I couldn’t pay for something that was already paid for.

Long before I was born, Jesus paid the penalty for the Garden in full. Upon the cross, He said “Tetelestai!” which means “paid in full”. His death purchased heaven for all who call upon His name in grateful and obedient belief. My status as a child of God was already paid for. I can’t pay for it again. (Not that I ever could!)

Instead, every time I start to think that way, I have to remember that I can make my card of construction paper and lace out of gratitude. I can walk in obedience and do the works He designed me for, while acknowledging that I owe Him absolutely nothing for His absolutely everything. I can accept and walk in the gift.

Wow, so many comments last week! Because of that, I will be sending off two gifts this week. The winner of Guzzy Goofball plus a couple bonuses is Antoinette M and Teri Ware wins a collection of gifts. If each of you could email me your address at [email protected], I will send those right out to you.

2 more weeks of this summer giveaway!

This summer, my fibromyalgia as well as a new joy (hear massive amounts of sarcasm), a pinched nerve in my hip, have made stretching a daily, sometimes hourly necessity. For those of you without the experience of fibro, it both makes everything tight and movement difficult and painful. The pinched nerve, in its attempt to protect my body from future injury, has further tightened my hamstrings and muscles near my hip. Without stretching, I would be immobile.

In life, physically, mentally, and spiritually, we need to stretch. Stretching our minds keeps us ready to learn. Stretching our spirits helps us become more like our Savior. But just like with the body, needed stretches can be uncomfortable, repetitious, and sometimes, downright painful.

But without them, we reach a point where we can no longer move.

Repeatedly in the Exodus account, Moses was told to stretch. To stretch out his hand and proclaim the locusts, the dark, and many of the other plagues. In the end, he was told to stretch his hand over the seas—first to divide them, and then to send them crashing back down on the Egyptians. But yet, in the song of worship and deliverance, we learn that Moses stretched, not only in obedience to God, but on behalf of God. In truth, in the heavenly realities, each and every stretching miracle belonged to God and God alone. “You stretched out your right hand; the earth swallowed them.” (Exodus 15:12)

Later in the book of Joshua, after Moses is gone, Joshua’s hand gets to represent the hand of his Creator in the conquest of the Promised Land.

Elijah stretched across the dead boy—offering everything he was and all he had to God to restore the widow’s treasure. In the dedication of the temple, Solomon begs God to acknowledge the prayers of any who stretch out their hands in pleading hope to the temple. “…whatever prayer, whatever plea is made by any man or by all your people Israel, each knowing his own affliction and his own sorrow and stretching out his hands toward this house, then hear from heaven your dwelling place and forgive and render to each whose heart you know, according to all his ways, for you, you only, know the hearts of the children of mankind.” (2 Chronicles 6:29-30)

God, Scripture echoes, stretched out the heavens. If His stretch has that much power, why don’t we stretch towards Him when we need anything? If we need understanding, he offers to stretch out to us with His wisdom. (see Proverbs 1) And, on multiple occasions, Jesus only healed if the person asking for healing stretched out.

Stretching isn’t our natural inclination. Especially in the spiritual. We’re more likely to curl in on ourselves in pity and hide. Isn’t that what Adam and Eve did at first when caught in their sin? When we stretch out, we acknowledge God’s sovereign power and our lack. We proclaim that without Him, we can do nothing. Without Him, we can’t “live and move and have our being” as Paul quoted on the Areopagus.

As I stretched my muscles today, I thought of the God who stretched out the heavens, stretches out to rescue us, and let his arms be stretched upon a cross.

Please Lord, remind me that I need to stretch to You.

Not enough comments this week, so the Guzzy Goofball copy is still in the running. Remember, the Wednesday after Labor Day one of the commenters from the summer will get a complete print set of the Talbott Family mysteries and a $25 Amazon card. Keep commenting for a chance to win!

We’ve had much delightful company this summer. This week ended our visit with our son’s wonderful girlfriend, Sabine. We thoroughly enjoyed her visit.

But I’ve also had company I didn’t want this summer. The company of pain. It has been messing with my rest, my sleep, my motivation, and so on.

Therefore, I’m doing something today that I RARELY do. I’m recycling an earlier blog post. This one is just as true as the first time I posted it. In other words, this is still an issue between me and God. Is it better? I’d like to think so. I think I worry less than I used to, but I still worry way too much. And I think, I’m less likely to lunge ahead of God, but I’m sure I still do. Thus, the title and the theme fits. So, onto the recycled post from over ten years ago!

A Lesson I Keep Needing to Re-Learn

I feel really sorry for God sometimes.

I know that he’s big enough to handle anything we creatures do, merciful enough to forgive us, and patient enough to provide us with new learning opportunities, but if he wasn’t perfect the frustration levels would surely skyrocket. I’m quite grateful he is the one and only true God because if he were like some of the mythological gods, I’m sure I would have been lightning zapped by now.

Over the years of following my Lord, one particular area has plagued my growth. It results in two sets of behaviors which can hide the truth of the sin. The problem is I have issues with trusting God.

Oh, I talk a good game. And I even believe it. My head knows all the Bible truths about God’s integrity and holiness. He keeps his word. Has throughout all of history. But still for some reason my heart and soul refuse to believe those facts. Instead, I act in one of two ways.

Worry. This is actually the inaction reaction. Instead of trusting God or doing anything to change my attitude, (like pray), I agonize over what might be. This becomes particularly troublesome in the wee hours of the night. A thought wakes me up, often a thought about one of my sons, and instead of praying, the worry cycle starts. It feeds upon itself until each worry is out of proportion to the original thought. At this point, I often give in and pray because if I don’t, I won’t get any more sleep.

Self-sufficiency. This definitely means taking action. But this path to action goes back to the garden and the original fall. Here, my path says: God, I’ve got this. I can be god for this activity or this objective. I know good and evil and I have decided that path A is better than the path B you seem to be leading me towards. So I’ll take care of it.

Either of these can look good on the outside looking in. The second can look like I’m a hard worker, getting things done. They can even look like godly things. The first can look like honest concern and caring.

But God reminds me of the truth when I get serious. I need to trust him.

And he’ll keep me in school until I learn that truth.

This week’s winner is Sarah Taylor. Sarah, email me at [email protected] with your address so I can get your books off to you!

Next week’s prize offering will be a copy of Guzzy Goofball and the Homeschool Play from Outer Space. If you have kids or grandkids in the 7-12 age range, be sure to comment for a chance to win it!