The High Calling of Unseemly Things

I feel like one of those unseemly things.
Unpresentable.
With some food smeared where it shouldn't be,
and pulling my young fit-throwers along with me.
If you've ever had a more presentable role,
and you now spend your days cleaning up smashed olives,
and wiping dried milk off faces,
and kissing wounded backsides,
you'll know what I mean.

This morning, I looked into Ephesians 4:11-16, Romans 12:3-8,
and 1 Corinthians 12.
Ah, the gifts to the body.
Apostles.
Prophets.
Evangelists.
Pastors.
Teachers.
Those who equip the saints for the work of the ministry,
who edify the body of Christ
until we all come to the unity of the faith
and of the knowledge of the Son of God,
to a perfect man,
to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ...
by which every part does its share,
causing growth of the body
for the edifying of itself in love.
It feels so far removed from peanut butter and jelly.

"We have many members in one body,
but all the members do not have the same function,
so we, being many, are one body in Christ,
and individually members of one another.
Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us,
let us use them:
if prophecy, let us prophesy...
or ministry, let us use it in our ministering;
he who teaches, in teaching;
he who exhorts, in exhortation;
he who gives, with liberality;
he who leads, with diligence;
he who shows mercy, with cheerfulness..."

Pondering these passages, I began to pray.
I'm doing a study that brought these passages up,
and it asked, "Where are you in this picture?"
I'm home.
I'm too busy mothering people whose needs are still pretty intensive 
to even be available to the body.

Where am I?
I'm reading to my kids.
Not even things I care about reading, 
just sounding out the letters that make up three-letter-words.
I'm walking really slow, because my feet are tied to their short legs.
I'm reading through a manual written for parents 
to help us teach safe driving practices to teens.
My oldest is starting drivers' ed, and parents are necessary in the process.

Where am I?
Peeling cooked potatoes for a potato salad,
and vacuuming crumbs from the dining room.
I'm showing someone how to clean a shower head,
and telling them to fold some laundry.
I'm working on making high school transcripts 
even while being overwhelmed 
by the enormity of starting it all over again for a two and four year old. 
The finish line was in sight, 
but I've been picked up and put back at the starting line late in the race.
My friends have kids in college,
and I still have some in diapers.
My life revolves around messes.

Somehow my attention fell on the purpose of these gifts.
Equipping saints for the work of the ministry.
Edifying the body of Christ.
Bringing them into the unity of the faith
and the knowledge of the Son of God.
The fullness of Christ.
That every part would do its share.
Causing growth of the body for the edifying of itself in love.

I flipped over to 1 Corinthians 12 and read,
"Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit.
There are differences of ministries, but the same Lord.
And there are diversities of activities,
but it is the same God who works all in all."
Diversities of activities. Operations. Things wrought.

And then these gifts:
Word of wisdom. Logos sophia. Divine wisdom.
Word of knowledge. Logos gnosis. Divine understanding.
Faith.
Gifts of healings. Medicine. Remedy. Cure.
Working of miracles.
Kinds of tongues. Languages. 
Communication with those who have no understanding of my meaning.
Interpretation of tongues.
To understand what is otherwise gibberish to me.

One and the same Spirit works all these things,
distributing to each one individually as He wills.
Apostles, prophets, teachers, 
miracles, gifts of healings, helps, 
governments, language, and interpretation of tongues.

Here I am, in my diversity of activities.
So many kinds of work to do in this home.
I am sent to them.
I speak the Word of God to them.
I teach them.
I pray with them for miracles.
Government: administration.
I have to speak their language, when they don't speak mine.
I need interpretation when they say unintelligible things.
Have you ever conversed with a toddler?

Word of wisdom? Yes.
Word of knowledge? Please, Lord, speak.
Faith.
How many times have I continued on
in teaching and discipline that seemed to fall on deaf ears?

I doctor them, even as I pray for them.
I evangelize them.
I work hard to equip them,
whether it's teaching them to read so they can edify themselves with God's love,
or teaching them to cook, so they can feed themselves and others.

I've washed some of them for years,
but most wash themselves now -- sometimes without even being asked anymore.
I want them to come to the unity of the faith
and the knowledge of the Son of God.
Strangely, in teaching them, I learn and grow, too.
And they are learning to do their share.
Of laundry, of study, and of worship.

I minister to them, and I exhort them.
I give to them, and I want to do it with liberality.
With simplicity. Not with an ulterior motive.
I lead them, and want to do it with sincerity.
And where does anyone get so many opportunities to show mercy?
Oh, Lord, help me to be cheerful in it.
For helps?

Here, at home, let me use these gifts
that differ according to the grace that is given to us.
They're all needed for the equipping of these saints.

Who Handles His Dishes

After naming a tribe for service,
the Lord went on to call out families in it by name for specific duties.
He said where He wanted each one to camp in relation to the tabernacle.
God concerns Himself with even our temporary dwelling places.

"The duties of the children of Gershon 
in the tabernacle of meeting included the tabernacle, 
the tent with its covering, 
the screen for the door of the court, 
the hangings of the court which are around the tabernacle and the altar, 
and their cords, according to all the work relating to them."
This family's entire ministry
was related to maintaining and transporting
the large leather and fabric pieces
that the tabernacle was constructed of.
Brushing off dust,
and washing, and folding,
and oiling the leather to keep it pliable,
and storing them carefully when they moved.
"This is the service of the families of the Gershonites,
in serving and carrying." 

The Kohathites "duty included the ark, 
the table, the lampstand, the altars, 
the utensils of the sanctuary with which they ministered, 
the screen, and all the work relating to them."
An interesting detail related to the Kohathites' duties
explains how the sons of Aaron are to cover
and prepare every item they are responsible for handling
and the Kohathites "are not to go in and watch 
while the holy things are being covered, lest they die."
They were expected to bear holy things
with a reverence that did not touch them,
and did not get to see them.

"The appointed duty of the children of Merari 
included the boards of the tabernacle, 
its bars, its pillars, its sockets, its utensils,
all the work relating to them, 
and the pillars of the court all around, 
with their sockets, their pegs, and their cords...
And this is what they must carry 
as all their service for the tabernacle of meeting...
and you shall assign to each man by name the items he must carry.

Each one of these duties are particular to the family and to the individual,
but in concluding each catalog of tasks, it repeats, 
"And their duties shall be under the authority of Ithamar the son of Aaron the priest."

"According to the commandment of the Lord 
they were numbered by the hand of Moses, 
each according to his service and according to his task; 
thus were they numbered by him, as the Lord commanded Moses."

The Lord called out a specific tribe, specific families,
and specific men for particular tasks.
And their duties were holy and appointed only to them.
Every one of them was known by name to the Lord,
and called to a particular care for the Lord's things.
No one else could do their job.

In ministering to the Lord, I may find I am carrying holy things I may not see.
I am doing Him service
even though that service means busying myself
with tables and lamps, bowls and forks.
God cares who handles His dishes.

That They May Serve Him

I picked up a chronological Bible some time back,
and started using it in the mornings.
I thought it would be a valuable way to go through the Word,
better setting history in its context for me.
And then I came to Numbers --
probably the book of the Bible with the driest reputation.
I set it down for awhile and went about my devotions in other ways.
But yesterday I started back in again.
I read chapters 3-5.
And I underlined things to ponder.

These chapters are full of direct quotes from God.
And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying:
"Bring the tribe of Levi near, 
and present them before Aaron the priest, 
that they may serve him. 
And they shall attend to his needs 
and the needs of the whole congregation...
Now behold, I Myself have taken the Levites 
from among the children of Israel... 
Therefore the Levites shall be Mine...
They shall be Mine: I am the Lord."

The Lord counted the Levites as His own,
but they were appointed to serve people.
They were given to Aaron and the congregation for labor.
Not as slaves, but as ministers of the tabernacle.
Their work was the Lord's work.
But it was for the benefit of people the Lord loves.
And their work freed the priests
to serve in the capacity the Lord appointed for them.

Do we realize how valuable our work is to Him?
The Lord was not only concerned with the duties of the priests,
but with the very specific ministry
of the things the priests needed to do their work with.
I have behind-the-scenes work
the Lord has given to me to do
that allows my husband to serve in the capacity the Lord has given him.
And each of us has her own part of the Lord's work to do.
Doing well the task He gives me
is exactly the best way to serve Him here.
Even if it seems set apart from the 'real work'.
If He has called me by name to tend stuff in service to Him,
it pleases Him well if I do that.

An Unwelcome Servant

It's another new year.

My facebook feed pulls up old memories each day.
It showed me a post I wrote eight years ago,
as I was close to being admitted to the hospital
for an infection I had been battling for months.
It had been a lot of severe pain,
and a lot of antibiotics,
and warm compresses,
and several aspirations and skin biopsies, and incisions.
I had been placed under the care of a specialist
who confided to me that she wished it was cancer,
because she would know exactly what to do about it.

I was drinking turmeric powder in milk,
and eating raw cranberries,
and high dosing vitamin c.
But mostly, I was sitting, exhausted and in pain, on my chair.
I was worrying about my husband being widowed
and my children without a mother when they were so little.
I had to give that up.
I prayed, and I stared at a wall,
and I stared unpraying at a wall,
and everything looked dark.

The ordeal had begun in the springtime, but it wasn't an ordeal at first.
At first, it was just a concern.
And then it grew into pain.
And all the awareness and prevention in the world didn't keep me from the trial.
See, I saw it coming.
I got help early.
I checked in regularly.
I did what I knew to do to promote health, and to prevent surgery.
And I was prayed for.
And I was still afflicted.

It wasn't my first experience.
Sixteen years ago yesterday,
I was taken to an emergency room and sent to emergency surgery
for a similar infection that had gone too far.
My firstborn was six weeks old when that happened,
and I didn't know I was in danger.
But when the doctor saw the infection, his eyes grew wide,
and he rushed to the phone to talk to a colleague,
and tried to tell me in a calm voice
that he was sending me over to see a friend at the hospital.
When the triage nurse saw it, her eyes grew wide,
and she got on the phone to call the surgeon down to look.
Papers were presented requiring my signature,
and my objections to anesthesia were overruled politely,
and I was given a few minutes to feed my baby lying on the ultrasound table.
And they wouldn't let me walk anymore.
I was put on a gurney and wheeled up to preop,
where it was discovered I was still wearing street clothes,
and another nurse promptly remedied that.

When I woke up, I felt so much better
with a gaping hole in my body than I had before surgery.
My husband was trained to pack the wound.
He packed it for ten weeks,
and I had a daily visit from a visiting nurse for much of it.
I was trying to avoid that whole situation again.

Anyway, today I was remembering these things, as I read my old words.
And there was a verse that came to mind I've been pondering over.
Again.

"Therefore we do not lose heart.
Even though our outward man is perishing, 
yet the inward man is being renewed day by day.
For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
is working for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, 
while we do not look at the things which are seen, 
but at the things which are not seen.
For the things which are seen are temporary,
but the things which are not seen are eternal."

Affliction is an unwelcome servant, but a faithful one.
Many women would stop the pain of labor if we could.
Send affliction away.
But there comes a point when a pregnancy is overdue,
and it would be a danger to mom and to baby
to prevent the labor that brings that baby out.
Some of us suffer longer than others to gain that reward.
But I would not trade any one of my six children
to get back some pain free hours (or in the case of one, days).

Affliction is working for us.
I couldn't stop thinking about that phrase this morning.
And I kept thinking about those waves of contractions
I had to learn to breathe through.
To relax into.
To allow them to do their work in bringing forth my children.

There's another word up there to note, too.
Perishing.
Paul said, "Our outward man is perishing..."
One version says 'wasting away'.
Another says 'being destroyed'.
The NASB says we are 'decaying'.
There's a serious error that many buy into that rejects the truth
that Christians can be being renewed from the inside,
while also perishing in their bodies.
Like somehow an afflicted saint is not a victorious saint.
But on the contrary, affliction works for us.
It's working an exceeding weight of glory.
It's building eternity into us.
It's giving us eyes to see what is invisible.
It's training us to hope in the reality, and not the illusion.
It's working patience into us.
It's giving us compassion.
When we reject it,
we are rejecting the very servant God has sent us to make us fit for heaven.

Several weeks ago, I came across a prayer for the sick
in the Book of Common Prayer:

Sanctify, O Lord, the sickness of Your servant, 
that the sense of his weakness may add strength to his faith 
and seriousness to his repentance; 
and grant that he may live with You in everlasting life; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Amen. 

Sometimes it's difficult to believe
that our sickness could be a means of sanctification.
And we don't want to submit to that.
But it would be well to lean into it, and to learn to breathe through it.