Hammer on Anvil '

A couple of years ago, workmen tore out all the carpet to install hardwood floors throughout our home. As I watched, I realized again how life often provides wonderful illustrations of spiritual truths. What I thought was going to be an easy process turned out to be more labor-intensive. Why? Because two years prior to the flooring project, we added a guest suite onto our home. The guest suite and the hall leading to it had hardwood flooring, but the rest of the house was carpeted.

When the carpeting was taken up, the workmen discovered that they needed to also tear out the wood sub-flooring. If they didn't, the new hardwood would not be level with the existing hardwood floor.

In order for the new hardwood to have a solid foundation, layers of preexisting carpet and flooring had to be removed. Watching the process prompted me to think about my own life and my own walk with God. All of us have to grow beyond what we were taught as children. For some of us, being a Christian merely meant we went to church weekly, and didn't swear or lie or disobey our parents. Others got a picture of what Christianity looked like from observing people in their church.

Whatever your story, I think it's safe to say that we all have "sub-flooring" that needs to be ripped out at some point in our lives. We can't just add Christianity to our lives like adding another app to our iPhone. Jesus says if we want to come after Him, we have to deny ourselves and take up our cross and follow Him. He asked the rich young ruler to sell all that he had, because He knew that possessions had become an idol to him.

Uprooting the old to make room for the new is a solid spiritual truth. In Luke 5, Jesus said we can't pour new wine into old wine skins, or both would be ruined.

Today, take some time to think about what your foundation consists of. Is all the yucky sub-flooring out of the way so that new hardwood can be laid? Or are you still clinging stubbornly to old, not-so-accurate ideas of what you think Christianity should be? What does "following Jesus" look like in your life?

In the verses preceding these, Jesus told Peter, “I tell you the truth, when you were younger, you tied your own belt and went where you wanted. But when you are old, you will put out your hands and someone else will tie you and take you where you don't want to go” (NCV). He was alluding to how Peter would be martyred.

It is the will of Christ that his disciples should mind their own duty, and not be curious about future events, either as to themselves or others. Many things we are apt to be anxious about, which are nothing to us. Other people's affairs are nothing to us, to intermeddle in; we must quietly work, and mind our own business. Many curious questions are put about the counsels of God, and the state of the unseen world, as to which we may say, What is this to us? And if we attend to the duty of following Christ, we shall find neither heart nor time to meddle with that which does not belong to us.

He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Sometimes, in the flurry of daily activity, I lose sight of this precious promise. When I was younger, for example, I remember telling God I was simply too busy to be sick. I had too many responsibilities, and apparently my presence was indispensable. Such arrogance!

The past two weeks, I have been living on this Scripture. After mowing our rather bumpy one-acre lawn a couple weeks ago, something happened to my back. The morning after mowing, I could barely walk, and my husband promptly took me to see the chiropractor. I am a natural sort of girl, and would much prefer a chiropractic adjustment to invasive medical intervention.

As I was walking from the consultation room to proceed to the treatment room, a severe spasm nearly sent me to the floor. The pain was excruciating, and I grabbed onto the door jamb with both hands to keep from falling. Fortunately my husband and the chiropractor were on each side of me, and they gently escorted me to the next room.

Nobody in their right mind likes to be in pain. But I am learning to cherish it. God uses pain sometimes to say, "It's not about you, remember? It's about My strength being made perfect in your weakness." It's not the end of the world if I can't go here and there as I choose. When I can do little else because of physical incapacitation, I can always pray. And last week as I was stretched out in my recliner, icing my back, God reminded me in a very beautiful, personal way to cherish those "down times" that allow me ample time for intercession.

I love what Oswald Chambers says:

Most of us fall and collapse at the first grip of pain; we sit down on the threshold of God’s purpose and die away of self-pity, and all so called Christian sympathy will aid us to our death bed. But God will not. He comes with the grip of the pierced hand of His Son, and says – “Enter into fellowship with Me; arise and shine."

This is a very real dynamic. It's tempting to fall into self-pity when we are suffering, and sometimes well-meaning Christian friends engage in that pity with us, instead of reminding us that it is an occasion for God to demonstrate His power. But God reaches out and beckons us, "Enter into fellowship with Me."

God's Word promises that, if I boast in my weaknesses, the power of Christ will rest on me. I'll take that, thank you.

Many of you are familiar with the story of Peter walking on the water to Jesus in Matthew 14. After a grueling day of ministry, Jesus sends the disciples out in a boat to go across the water while He goes up on the mountain to pray. He had been thronged by crowds all day long and was exhausted. He needed to be with His Father to be recharged and refreshed.

The Bible says that "in the fourth watch of the night," Jesus came to the boat, "walking on the sea." At first the disciples were terrified, thinking it was a ghost. When Jesus told them it was Him, Peter said, "If it's really You, command me to come to You on the water." Jesus grants permission, so Peter steps out onto the water and begins to walk toward Jesus.

Peter did great walking on the water -- until he took his eyes off Jesus. Verse 30 says, "But when he saw the wind, he was afraid." He began to sink, and cried out to Jesus to save him. As Jesus reaches out to save Peter, the stern admonition comes: "You of little faith, why did you doubt?"

Recently my husband and I were with friends from a town about three hours away. We were enjoying lunch at a nice restaurant after church, when our conversation turned to the weather. It had been a bit stormy, and we were under a tornado watch -- not an uncommon thing for where we live. But our friend began to get more and more agitated as she thought about their return trip home. "What if a tornado touches down next to our car? What if our car is lifted into the air and crashes to the pavement?" She went on and on, and if I didn't know better, I would've sworn she didn't know Jesus.

At one point I stopped her, looked her in the eye, and said, "The worst thing that could possibly happen to you would mean you would be in the presence of Jesus! What could be better than that?" She looked at me as if I had two heads, and then sputtered something about, "Well, I can't do that to my family!" I assured her that if God took her, He would see to it that her family is cared for.

Friends, if we can't even endure a small weather disturbance without fearing for our lives, our faith is small indeed. Second Corinthians 5:7 says we are to walk by faith, and not by sight. Peter walked by faith when he kept his focus on Jesus. But then he looked down and observed the churning waves, and immediately began to sink. He had stopped walking by faith, and let his sight dictate his emotions.

God has made us hundreds of promises in His Word. Are we going to believe those promises, or believe what we can only observe with our eyes?

The day after this incident with our friends, my daily Oswald Chambers reading hit the nail on the head. In talking about being abandoned entirely to God, he says this:

The test of abandonment is in refusing to say – "Well, what about this?" Beware of suppositions. Immediately you allow – What about this? – it means you have not abandoned, you do not really trust God. Immediately you do abandon, you think no more about what God is going to do. Abandon means to refuse yourself the luxury of asking any questions. 

This may sound harsh, but it really makes sense in the life of faith. If we are perpetually saying, "But what about...?", we do not trust God at all. And since we don't really believe He has things in hand, we keep trying to figure out how our life circumstances are going to play out.

Paul instructs us to not be anxious about anything (Philippians 4:6). Over and over again, God promises that He will see to it that our needs are met. Yet I can't tell you how many Christians I have known over the years who say things like, "I'm just a worrier." And some of them wear that badge proudly, as if somebody has to worry, and they've taken up the cause!

Friends, worry is not merely wrong -- it is a SIN against our heavenly Father. It means we don't truly believe He can look after us as He has promised to do. If you only have "faith" when you can see the end result of all your circumstances, that is not faith at all. You are trusting in your own common sense.

Matthew 13:22 says the "cares of this world" are what chokes out God's Word. Let's stop focusing on our circumstances, and fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2).