God was so good (insert positive situation)

We hear it all the time, right? 

We hear of children being born, career advancement, physical healing, a good grade on a test, travel safety, a marriage union, answer to prayer...followed by "God was so good." The most personally beneficial, 'best', and happiest moments of our lives get that tag. Of course they do! They should. That's an accurate conclusion.

But it's incomplete. 

God's goodness is sourced in something much deeper than our perception of His activity.

And we should breathe a huge sigh of relief over that. Because if He was only good because of the favorable things He does for us, what happens when He does or allows something that, to our human understanding, is...bad? When God allows beloved family members to die unexpectedly. When He allows close friends to wither away with cancer. When He keeps people single or allows a difficult marriage. When there's disability or a job ends before another begins. When He gives a thorn in the flesh. 

There will be times when what is happening in our lives cannot be quantified as good. There will be no mental gymnastics flexible enough to bear the weight of those trials. It will fall beyond our human ability to call something good. Beyond our human comprehension that it could be. 

So how can Job observe God's hand behind the unraveling of his life, and in the same breath bless Him? How can Mary comprehend the possible social repercussions of her pregnancy and respond with "My soul magnifies the Lord"? I mean, what is Paul thinking when he surrounds his debilitating thorn in the flesh with words like "pleasure," "power" and "glory?" How can David, God's chosen ruler, pen "Be thou exalted, O God, above the Heavens" huddled in a cave hiding from the current, wacko king who's bent on chopping his head off? And then there's Hosea: commanded by God to marry a harlot and told in advance that she will be unfaithful. Yet every chapter he authors circles back to God's steadfast loving kindness. 

I think I know why. These Biblical characters knew we don't have to look to how God's activity appears as the foundation for our trust. We have to know Who He is to trust. They looked beyond the doing to who's hand was doing the doing. It's the hand of Yahweh. And from front to back, our Bibles declare Him good. That's what led these people to such thrilling and active displays of faith and trust. They were not evaluating God's goodness on how favorable His activity was for them, but on His revealed character. Which led them in the what-seems-very-bad to say 'God is very good.'

A good God will work only good in our lives. That's true. But we are not called to comprehend that good. We are called to taste and see that GOD is good. To believe what His Word says about Him. There's a whole lot of freedom in that truth. It takes the pressure off of us to figure it out. It provides a sure band of stability when faced with circumstances that do not seem in our favor. And it frees our hearts and tongues to cry out in every season and situation of life:

God is so good. 

Beth

so shine

We'd balance all rickety on the garage step railing, and stretch full out to grasp the swinging pull. Then with one yank the ladder'd whoosh down; laying bare a pitch-black rectangle of adventure and mystery. An ebony vortex to a foreign world straight over our heads. 

Known to the less exotic-minded as our attic. 

I'd climb the rungs all shaky determination, then feel for the plywood boards of the small square floor. This is important, for to step one way was to set foot on solid board. To step the other way? A free-fall through mushy insulation straight into the boiling pot of water on our kitchen stove (or so I supposed.) Dangerous things happen when there is no light. 

Once on the gritty boards, we'd rest a bit. Coughing thin dust, brushing cobwebs from our hair... It was eery not seeing your hand in front of you and bumping into strange nobs and hard edges of unseen things...Fear and uncertainty breed in the dark. 

Those few moments were brief, but long enough for us to imagine all sorts of craggy-toothed creatures, and slithering sensations about our feet. The back of my neck would crinkle. Goosebumps spread like the plague. Deception thrives where it's pitch-black. 

Then, with a flick of a flashlight, everything changed. A world of wonder stacked rafter-high all around us. There was the old-fashioned typewriter. The massive painting of Jesus knocking at an old wooden door (three cheers for parsonage life.) Stacked to one side were retired, velvet collection bags, rusted nursery toys, communion schmuck-a-schmuck. In another corner, our winter sleds mingled with dusty hymnals. In other words, plenty to keep us amused until the contents of that boiling pot below were ready for dinner. 

Light made all the difference.

Light changed everything.
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You are the light of the world. 

You, who have believed on Jesus Christ. Who have been translated from the kingdom of darkness. You are the light in this pitch-black world of danger, fear, uncertainty, and deception. And (hang with me here) if we are the light, and we cannot be seen, the world will not have light.

A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

A practical, profound observation. Light that's high-up is hard to cover-up. So make your life plainly visible in this dark world. Set it where all can see. As the traveling eye cannot miss a glowing city in the falling dusk, make yourself obvious to all who are looking. 

Nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lamp stand. 

What foolishness! To hide light in the dark! To dampen its effect. What folly. And a covered flame will do damage to itself and all that it contacts. It must be set apart: distinct from its surroundings to fulfill its purpose. Hide it under a bushel? No! Of course not. Let it shine. 

And it gives light to all who are in the house. 

When the light is clearly visible, it does what it's intended to do. It provides for the understanding, safety, and good of all who see it. It dispels deceitful shadows and makes what is true clearly seen. Fear and uncertainty have no place in its warm glow. And all who are in the area cannot help but reap its benefits. 

Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in Heaven. 

So, how do we shine in this world? Bizarre clothing? Continuous street preaching? A strict, unusual diet? A visible tattoo? An old-timey way of life? Christ anticipates this question. We shine by doing good works. A public display of good. To all that come in contact with us. And this phrase 'good works' is generic. It's a wide open free-for-all. What good do you want to do? What good can you do? What good has God fit you for? Shine that way. 

And in this passage, there's only one response this world will have: glorifying our Heavenly Father. I don't know what that will look like, but I like to imagine it. I like to imagine my good works would lead to giving a reason for the hope within me to an inquiring stranger: giving more Gospel light to those responding to the light they have. Or a prayer of belief pouring from an unsaved coworker. Or fellow Christians praising God as they see me doing what is only possible by Divine grace...
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The Son of God came into a world that was sitting stone-blind in darkness. Like a dayspring He came; a Divine sunrise beaming into our night. A light to guide our steps into peace with God. He is the true light. And His good works run the spectrum of gentle words to physical healing. He allows children to crowd His lap. He boldly decries religious heresy. He lets the weak and imperfect minister to Him. He's continually making Himself poor-- burning Himself low-- that those nearest Him might know the riches of His salvation. In every Gospel chapter you see Him doing, saying, and teaching good. And the glory brought the Father by the work of Calvary? Countless millions bear witness of that. My voice straining to be the loudest. 

So shine.

Beth 

how marriage falls on single ears

Tis that time of year again when my social media is set ablaze with marriage engagements and weddings. With this season comes the inevitable dropping-of-pearls-of-marriage-knowledge-on-singles. And it's quite the mixed bag of treats that come tumbling from well-meaning friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. Here's what they can sound like to single ears. (and stay tuned for the redeeming point at the end of this nonsense, k?) 

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Marriage is the best. thing. evvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer. Wahooooo! 

Marriage is sososososososo (takes breath) soooooooooooooooooo hard. 

But marriage is aMAZng!!!!!!!!!!!! (cue all honeymoon social media)

You.

Are.

Both.

Sinners.

living with your soul-mate? AWWWWWWWW YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

You gotta live with this person until one of you dies.  

And...wait for it...CHILDERRRRENNNNN!!!!!!!!! YIPEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

And...children. (stares droop-eyed into the middle distance)

Never fall asleep alone again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Never fall asleep alone again. 

Someone to share every detail of life with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You must share every detail of life. 

etc. etc. etc.

Honestly, I'm laughing right now, because I've pontificated on the single life in a much similar way to marrieds. In fact, some of you have had a front row seat for that.

Beth: Singleness means SOLITUDE!!!! Gloria Deo, y'all.  

You: *blinks*

Beth: (heavy sigh) Singleness means so. much. so.li.tude. (insert all the sad faces) 

You: *blinks*

But presenting both marriage and singleness as two-sided, challenging/wonderful, difficult/amazing, pros/cons, seasons of life is not wrong. It's accurate. In fact, may I suggest that its also Biblical? Passages like 1 Corinthians 7 come to mind. Without getting in too deep here, Paul points out the benefits and limitations of both marriage and singleness. The conclusion? There is good and glory to be wrought by both. 

Sooooo what? 

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You know that old hymn Children of the Heav'nly Father? One of my favorites. And I think my favorite phrase is: "What He takes or what He gives us shows the Father's love most precious." Although I think that stanza was written later... Anyway, I couldn't get away from that line as I was writing this post. The connection? 

There is a natural 'taking' and 'giving' of benefits that comes with entering the season of marriage. For example, there's the removal of a certain amount of freedom. But there's the blessing of close companionship. We find this dynamic in singleness as well, right? We enjoy certain benefits because of our season of life while, within the gentle borders of God's instruction, other benefits are withheld. 

But the truth is that the withholding/giving of my season of life is a dynamic meant to showcase God's precious love for me. Not just cuz the hymn says so. You don't have to read very far in your Bible to see that dynamic. You can trace individual examples, but the whole of God's relationship with nation of Israel comes to mind. (Space fails me so I'll let you pursue that theme on your own blog.) 

And I think this what I want to start cultivating when I speak on singleness. Whether I digress on its inherent benefits or limitations, I want the point to be how I see God's love for me in those things. (because it's there, folks.) I want His steadfast loving kindness to be the obvious conclusion when people hear me. The take-away. Because we may well "trust His purpose wholly: tis His children's welfare solely..." as the hymn goes on to say.  

AND if that would be the theme of whatever season of life we find ourselves in today, can you imagine the mounds of glory heaped before the Lord through that? 

Whether what we say falls on the ears of 1 or 1 of 2. 

Beth 

a matter of prayer for the blog

Hi! 

I'm Beth, writer of this blog in case you were wondering.

Niece Emma showcasing how I feel writing this post

Hahaha (clears throat)

This is going to be an unusual post, but, you've proven such adroit and agile readers, I know I can do this to you without fear of mass hysteria or a general stampede towards the nearest exit. (can you tell I'm kinda jittery about this? Too much coffee maybe?) SOOOO....

News Flash: We are getting TOO BIG. 

And by 'we' I mean Single Threads. 

Which means a few things.

1. My readership (that's you! *loud applause*) has been increasing consistently for a while now. Which, other than having me in a constant state of jaw-drop, necessitates something more than what I'm currently doing on the blog. You know, something more than just throwing words up here and hoping you find them at some point. Which leads me to the next point...

2. Growth means change. AHHHHHH!!!!! You all know how I feel about that. But it's good, right? I mean right? Yes yes of course. And one of the biggest changes (so I'm told) is that I need a new site to blog from. Which means I need to MOVE MY ENTIRE BLOG SELF to a sharper, more visible, more traffic-friendly environment. And perhaps get my hair highlighted. (that was free) Which leads us to the third prong of this brilliant numeration...

3. I need help. Beth's brain simply does not fire on this technological level. As in, even the basic features currently on Single Threads were lovingly and patiently dictated to me by a dear friend sitting within a foot of me and repeating herself frequently in increasingly smaller sentences for HOURS. You get the idea. 

SO, would you all...

Pray that God gives me courage and wisdom to know how much of this to take on myself and when to invest in professional assistance?

Pray that He leads me to the right people and resources that will make this possible?

I mean I just don't know if I could work with someone like Hoss from Bonanza and stay focused, you know? (joke, friends, that was a joke) (but seriously, do you know a godly single man like Hoss.) 

Really though, would you also pray this will bring God more glory by reaching more lives? 
..........................................................

Now, this isn't in the works because I'm gettin' the big head or think I'm all that or woo-hoo, or 'Just call me (insert famous blogger here)'. It's more of a "this is a fearful, exciting, amazing, and necessary thing that God is leading me to because He is so good and loves to use what we love to do for His name's sake." (that's me quoting me by the way) 

And I need people's prayers behind me in this. 

Also (do I even want to open this door?) IF you have any mad skilz, resources, or other such helpful tidbits of know-how about the blog-o-sphere you feel led to share, I'm here. And I may even be clutching a fistful of small bills to throw your way.

But that may also be the coffee talking. 

Also, (In case you forgot) my name is Beth, writer of this blog.

Hahaha (clears throat) 

a wise woman builds

My church is reading through the Proverbs each month this year, and one phrase from chapter 14 has velcro-ed itself to me: The wise woman builds her house...Which (in case you're wondering) means pretty much exactly what it says. 

This tiny seed principle has taken root and grown this lush jungle of application in my heart. Now (lest you think I've gone and belly flopped off the hermeneutical deep end) honestly, the scope of this application fits more perfectly within the sprawling borders of Proverbs 31. It's just that, well, perhaps in a couple decades I'll feel more comfortable handling that passage? So I'm sticking with 14:1 while thinking about the virtuous woman. K? Here we go...

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A wise woman builds. 

Never tears down. 

Never diminishes her responsibilities. 

Never neglects those souls and things directly under her care. 

When people/ projects/needs run up against her they're furthered. Strengthened. Comforted. Filled. Her life is one upward, sweeping movement. And what is nearest is caught up in that push. And left better than it was. 

Building implies controlling. So the wise woman handles life. She does not let life handle her. She looks at what God has placed in her hand and says, what can I make with this circumstance? This blessing? This trial? (lemonade out of lemons anyone?) 

But she's not a random creative. She's following a blueprint. God's wisdom found in His Word is her step by step guide. And she's always comparing her work to that guide. Am I building up this person properly? Are my priorities fit together correctly? Is my foundation strong? 

Even when there's a lull in the obvious action, the wise woman doesn't stop. She's gathering resources. Redeeming the time. Laying up qualities of eternal value. Filling herself with the Word and begging the filling of the Spirit. There is never NOT something for her to build. And if she may build every moment, then every moment has value.

She builds her home. Builds its atmosphere. Builds by maintaining it. Making it a place of health. Ever increasing and changing in beauty and comfort. A better reflection of her and/or her family's priorities. Of their personality and stage of life. She builds her family. The strength, courage, and diligence that requires? You know you have my deepest admiration as wives and mothers, right? She builds others. Her friends. Her authorities. (dare I say, her enemies?) Coworkers. Strangers. Church-folk. She builds her skills and spiritual gifts. She's not content to let her natural abilities atrophy. And she thinks: I love doing_______for God, how can I do it better? More effectively? more often? For the benefit of more people? 

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So, how ya doin' with that building principle, Beth? 

Hey! You're not supposed to ask me that! I'm the ALMIGHTY BLOGGER don't ya know!?! No really, This principle's a challenge for yours truly. Here's why: 

• Building must be intentional. No one looks down and startles to find themselves building. It takes thought, preparation, purpose...and for someone who's status quo looks like drifting happily on the sun-kissed waves of life, that's a challenge. 

• Building implies work. See those construction crews out this summer? No walk in the park, yo. It takes sweat equity. Mental energy. And sometimes I simply don't want to work. Times I'm sorely inconvenienced by some necessary task. When I grumble and complain about the materials I've been given. (Anyone could build an Eiffel tower life with her resources....) 

• Building means I can't destroy. I mean, there's just times I want to tear down all the things, folks. ALL. THE. THINGS. Situations when building feels wrong, and has no advantage for me. When it rubs against my emotional grain...

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But this wise woman in Proverbs understands something about her wisdom.

It's foundation is the fear of the Lord. An accurate and thriving knowledge of God that affects every area of her life. Because she knows her God, she knows she may pull every needed resource from a Divine storehouse. Everything for her life and godliness. Drink full on from the well of her salvation. Abide in the Vine. She knows the buck doesn't stop with her. She builds, but like a child whose hand is cupped in a father's palm: guided and enabled by someone much wiser and stronger than herself. 

So we find that this wise woman and her work is not beyond our reach. We may well cultivate this fear of the Lord, draw our resources from Him, and see a building up of everything under our care. And if the Lord is building the house...

Our labor is not in vain.

Beth

9 things I learned at Christian camp

So camp is in full swing this summer, and it's got me thinking back to the 11 years and 4 camps that filled my summers growing up. Here's what I remember best.

1. Getting there is half the fun. 

first ever week at camp. Can you spot me?

Picture a 15 passenger van. Tan with brown lettering. Hot seats. Hot windows. Hot armpits. The smell of melting hard candy. Something sticky in your hair. Sloshing cokes. Stained pillows. Bangs being teased. Jeans being pegged. Someone crying. Someone belching. Someone laughing uncontrollably. Someone snoring. Someone feeling sick. A heavy mist of hairspray and sun-ripened raspberry hanging in the air. The crunch of pringles underfoot. 

And that was before we'd left the church parking lot. 

Whether to Junior camp 45min away, or Teen camp 8 hours away, the ride was savored as much as the week itself. And the return trip would offer up its joys in a much similar fashion. Except we'd know all the verses to The Austrian Went Yodeling in 7 different voices. (I thought it was ostrich not Austrian for years...)

2. Your suitcase becomes a foreign object the moment it leaves your home. 

What is this thing full of random articles at the foot of my bunk? Who packed this excessiveness? Why, there's at least 5 of everything! How can every last travel-sized toiletry get lost inside it? At least it's a place for my soaking towel and water-day clothing. Not to mention all my left-over snack shop food I can finish on our ride home the end of the week. 

3. Personal grooming is extraneous (aka junior week) 

Exhibit A: what to do for 8 hours in the tan van. 

What do you mean 'do my hair?'

No one else seems to care

and lake algae adds a certain flare.

Ate my scrunchie on a dare... 

Forgot my comb so wanna share?

You have no idea, folks. 

4. team spirit brings out the inner dork. 

Seriously. I was "rah-rahing" from the moment I tumbled from the tan van. One of those cheering campers you wish would lose their voice or pass out. The one that showed up to 'wacky hair day' looking like a Star Trek alien while every other girl was tastefully preppy. I'd stress over understanding the different games, then give MY ALL. (thank you low center of gravity). I'd accost kids I didn't even know all over camp with the secret hand motions and phrases of our team. Anyone wearing my team color on some part of their body was fair game. 

5. Camp food is the BOMB-DIGGITY. 

Camp is the sure-fire, step-by-step manual for making your kids eat anything. Run them hard from sunup to sundown. Dehydrate them. Put them on a hot, shade-less activity field for 45 minute time slots. Let them flail in the deep end to their hearts content. Run them through the obstacle course. Ok, do it again just for kicks and giggles. 

This will make variations on cardboard taste like Heaven. And may be why I remember all camp food with something akin to obsessive adoration. 

6. Nothing good happens during night games.

Beth in 'we will win this game or die' mode

*drops mic/walks away*

7. The Holy Spirit is not bound by externals. 

He's not bound by the counselors. Like the one whose counseling looked like sharing her life story and its woes for 40 minutes. Or the one more focused on googly eyeing the team captain than the 8 girls in her care (kids are smarter than you think). Times when I wanted to talk through deep slung struggles in my spiritual life, but was hurried through the one-on-one as "the really good girl who will probably be camper of the week again this year..." 

The work the Holy Spirit can do is not bound by limited camp facilities. Not bound by the razzmatazz level of the speakers, the weather, the food, or quality of the program. All these things certainly help, and to be honest most of my counselor and camp experience was outrageously positive. But in the end, it comes down to the Word of God. Give the Holy Spirit opportunity to change lives through preaching/teaching/reading/counseling from/ and devoting with it. And no matter how scummy the lake (or not funny Funny Time is) The Word will not return void. It will accomplish all of God's purpose. I'm living proof. 

8. Important people were behind me 100%.

At camp I found myself surrounded by people walking with God and loving it. And all of them had the same message: The Christian life is real, and we want to help you grow in it. 

long live the camp hat. 

One of the key players in this was my Dad. He was my pastor/youth pastor/main sponsor every year. He'd be around during the week doing whatever secret things sponsors do, but at some point he'd buy me something from the canteen and sit on a bench with me for a few minutes listening to what God was doing in my life that week. Sometimes he'd give further counsel or ask for clarification (more for me than him). But always it would end with "Good Beth. These are important things God is teaching you. Stay sensitive. Stay in God's Word. I'm proud of you." This was pure gold to me.

9. Devotion to God is worth it. 

Of all the times I raised my hand or walked the aisle at camp, this was the main lesson God was teaching me. My Creator is worth my time, my love, my trust, my loyalty...He's worth giving up lesser things. Worthy of being shared with others. Worthy of my obedience. His Word is worthy of careful consideration. I'd come home with sermon cassette tapes with titles like "the High Cost of True Christianity." and replay them til they wore out. For months afterward I'd sing "I have decided to follow Jesus" in my devos, the Holy Spirit teaching me what that meant in my every day teenage life.

The Word of God had been given unrestrained course into my life for one week, and its ripple effect could be felt the other 360 days of the year. In fact, to this day I can trace much good in my life to those crazy weeks away from home. 

Moldy towels and matted hair aside. 

Beth 

the tragic, old song of Stanford and Orlando

Last week? It's as if I'm there. There at that Stanford court case with my mouth hanging wide and my blood boiling. Hearing the tumbling words of someone so wrong, and someone so wronged.  My heart sounds in my ears. 

This week? It's as if I'm there. Watching a maimed humanity tumble-flood the street outside that Orlando bar. Hearing the audio recorded by some trembling hand. The end of bodies. The flight of so many souls. My heart sounds in my ears. 

I hear these stories every time I click the radio. See them every time the tv pings on. Read them on every front page. I feel the inestimable loss. The outrage of both of these tragedies. Hear the inevitable what could have been helped? The why here and now? The how do you pick up what is shattered beyond repair? And l think: this is an old, old sound.

This is not a new song.

Since Eden man chose the lyrics to this melody. Falling soft from the jagged-edge jaw of a serpent, we ignored their poorly gilded evil; happy to catch them up as our own: 

Has God? Is God? Surely not. 

We would have none of our Creator and His way. None of the perfect. None of being made in an image other than ourselves. None of that glory. 

And as soon as humanity took up this song, it took up murder. Rape. Incest. Adultery. Slavery. Lying, stealing, coveting...every imaginable violence. We took by force all that was created good and left it to bleed out. Became addicts to what leeches our feeble best and feeds our worst. We hate, and lust, and imagine all sorts of wickedness continually. We lust because we do not have. We kill and desire more blood. We fight and war. We smirk thinking we've trumped our Creator. Has God? Is God? Surely not. 

But we can't shake the inevitable counter melody; the loss and pain entwined in our seeming victory. This nagging obbligato of what could have been helped? and why here and now? And how do we pick up these pieces?  
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We hear this old song behind the recent tragedies: I will use you because it will pleasure me. I will mow you down because I want to. I am my own divinity; it is my right. And this triumph song? This i am my own god? Will always become a funeral dirge. The old chord progression of death/passed on all men/for all have sinned. We shake our fist at God and find ourselves bruised bone-deep in the heel. In choosing our own way, we've chosen our destruction. 

Yes, the details were new. The rape location became the filthy backside of a dumpster. The Orlando weapon? Unusual in its effective brutality. But the song has not changed.

It is an old, old sound.
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And I wonder, at what point do we wake up to this? Realize that weapon reform, and stricter laws, or heavier punishment, or more education is not the answer? These may mute evil for a moment; pause the music. Delay the refrain of death. But they cannot crush silent this twisted melody on continuous repeat. 

Only the One who gave us life can deliver us from the body of this death.  

And it's only when we turn towards our Maker than we can be remade. That we know the full healing of His finished work. Of His bearing all our broken, gilded evil in His own body and that cross. But it will mean a change of lyrics. A humble song of God has. God is. And I am not. To a truly this is the Son of God come to take away the sin of the world. Come to take away my sin. 

There is no other salvation from the tragic, old song of these last two weeks. 

Beth