Unveiling Our True Selves to God
In Exodus 34, we encounter a unique story about Moses. When he came down from Mount Sinai after speaking with God and getting the second set of tablets bearing the Ten Commandments, his face shone radiantly. This divine glow was a physical sign of his close communion with the Almighty. However, it frightened the Israelites, so Moses covered his face with a veil among the people.
And the children of Israel saw the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses' face shone: and Moses put the vail upon his face again, until he went in to speak with him. - Exodus 34:35
In Exodus 34, we encounter a unique story about Moses. When he came down from Mount Sinai after speaking with God and getting the second set of tablets bearing the Ten Commandments, his face shone radiantly. This divine glow was a physical sign of his close communion with the Almighty. However, it frightened the Israelites, so Moses covered his face with a veil among the people.
And the children of Israel saw the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses' face shone: and Moses put the vail upon his face again, until he went in to speak with him. - Exodus 34:35
It's not just Moses who sometimes veiled his true self. We often do the same. We wear masks to hide our insecurities, fears, doubts, and imperfections. We want to be accepted, loved, and admired, so we present a carefully curated version of ourselves. But the truth is, we don't need to put on masks before God.
Moses didn't wear his veil when alone with God in the Tabernacle. He stood unveiled in the divine presence, exposed and authentic. This is a powerful lesson for us. We can be honest with God. We don't need to hide our doubts, fears, anger, or confusion. He knows us better than we know ourselves.
God invites us to reveal our true selves to Him. He's not looking for a polished, perfect facade. He desires our hearts as they are—flawed, broken, and searching. He wants to have a genuine relationship with us. In your prayers, you don't need to use lofty, churchy language or try to appear more righteous than you feel. You can speak from your heart.
Have you ever been upset with God, wondering why certain things are happening in your life? Maybe you've questioned His plan or felt angry about your circumstances. It's okay. You can bring your raw emotions to Him. Just like Moses removed his veil when he was alone with God, you can remove your masks and be genuine in His presence.
There's something freeing about knowing that you can be completely honest with God. He's a loving Father who understands your humanity. When you're uncertain, share your doubts. When you're hurting, express your pain. When you're lost, ask for guidance. You don't have to pretend.
God doesn't turn away when we're vulnerable. Instead, He draws closer to us. He longs for a deeper connection with His children, and it begins with open and honest communication. Unveiling our true selves before God is an act of trust. It's a declaration that we believe He is a safe place for our hearts, a refuge for our souls.
When Moses removed the veil in God's presence, he experienced a unique transformation. He soaked in the divine glory, and his face radiated with God's light. Similarly, when we unveil our true selves to God, we allow Him to work within us. He begins to transform our brokenness into beauty, weakness into strength, and doubts into faith.
Plot Holes or Potholes?
You know that feeling when you're in the zone, pounding away on a keyboard, and in the middle of a writing sprint that's like a caffeine rush for your creativity? (If you’re not a writer, you’ll have to equate this to some other project you’re elbow-deep in.) So there I was, watching my tale come alive on the screen and giggling in excitement. The story was full of twists and turns, excitement, mystery, and anything else I could throw at it. And the best part of all? It was almost finished!
You know that feeling when you're in the zone, pounding away on a keyboard, and in the middle of a writing sprint that's like a caffeine rush for your creativity? (If you’re not a writer, you’ll have to equate this to some other project you’re elbow-deep in.) So there I was, watching my tale come alive on the screen and giggling in excitement. The story was full of twists and turns, excitement, mystery, and anything else I could throw at it. And the best part of all? It was almost finished!
As Jason and I walked with Tess down one of our favourite trails, I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm. I chattered on and on about the trials my characters had faced and the victories they had won. As I reached the point of the story I had just written, a look of confusion crossed Jason’s face, and he asked a question. My excitement plummeted like a burst balloon. My story had a major plot hole, and I hadn’t noticed it. Good grief!
Before I go any further, let me say I appreciate Jason pointing out the elephant-sized hole. Had I published the story as it was, I would have been so embarrassed. But, oh, how I wished for a “plot hole be gone” button. But hey, no giving up, right? So, I swallowed my pride and lunged back into my writing to patch that hole before it swallowed my plot. What started as a sprint quickly became a full-blown marathon with many writes, rewrites, and re-rewrites. Gotta love the writer's journey! The highs of creativity and inspiration often smash headlong into the reality of being a mere human.
Oddly enough, life often mirrors my writing escapades. We sketch grand blueprints, convinced we've mapped out a foolproof journey, only to encounter curveballs that throw our plans off track. Much like the plot holes I wrestle with, life is full of potholes that catch us unprepared. Yet, unlike my stories which often need rewrites, God's story for us is flawless.
You see, God's storyline doesn’t contain plot holes. He doesn't let any thread fray or any detail escape His watchful eye. His plan for our lives is intricate, regardless of the twists and turns. In His remarkable story, even the potholes have a purpose.
For instance, let’s look at Joseph's life in the book of Genesis. His dad doted on him, and his brothers hated him for it. In a tale only God could write, Joseph went from being pampered to being sold into slavery and later incarcerated. Talk about jaw-dropping plot twists! Yet, even amid the chaos, Joseph's life was woven into an awe-inspiring story of redemption. God had a plan!
So, when we encounter plot holes and hairpin turns, let's remember Joseph's unshakable trust in God. Even in the face of adversity, Joseph clung to his faith, believing that God's ultimate purpose for him was way bigger than his current troubles. His life story reminds us that even when things don’t seem good, God is working all things for our good.
God's story is foolproof. Unlike me, He doesn’t have “whoopsie moments.” No, everything He does is perfect. He is gracious and just, ensuring every chapter of our lives flows just as it should. As for those detours and potholes, they're not mistakes. They're chances for God to showcase His loyalty and grace.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a story here that needs some tweaking. Beware, plot holes! I’m coming for you!!!
As for God, his way is perfect: the word of the Lord is tried: he is a buckler to all those that trust in him. - Psalm 18:30
Tales of Moo and Poo
Since moving to Wales in mid-January, we’ve learned a lot of interesting facts about farm life in this country. For example, lambing season generally takes place in March and April, which means we’re privileged to watch little lambs scamper around the fields. So cute! Also, because of the long, wet winters, the cows are usually kept in the barns until spring. The main reason for this is that the ground becomes so wet and soggy that it is easy for the cows to break their legs. Not good! So, until recently, the cows on the farm here were heard but not seen as they were locked away in the barn.
Since moving to Wales in mid-January, we’ve learned a lot of interesting facts about farm life in this country. For example, lambing season generally takes place in March and April, which means we’re privileged to watch little lambs scamper around the fields. So cute! Also, because of the long, wet winters, the cows are usually kept in the barns until spring. The main reason for this is that the ground becomes so wet and soggy that it is easy for the cows to break their legs. Not good! So, until recently, the cows on the farm here were heard but not seen as they were locked away in the barn.
A couple of weeks ago, the shepherd moved around a few sheep (as I mentioned in my earlier post) and led the cows into the back field—the one directly beside and behind our borrowed home. For a child who collected cow figurines and plush animals when I was younger, I now find cows far less attractive than sheep. Some of them, in fact, are a bit scary-looking.
But that’s not the part I’ve minded the most. No, the thing we have to get accustomed to at this point is the smell. Oh, gracious! When there were dozens of sheep out in the field, we could see lush, green grass. Now, with just a dozen cows, we look out and see a minefield. Large mounds of—well, um, poo—litter the pasture and permeate the air. One step out the door reminds us the cows are near. Maybe a bit too near for my sensitive nostrils.
As Jason and I went for a walk down the farm road-turned-minefield, dodging the steaming piles of droppings, I was reminded of a Bible verse. Yes, I know that seems strange, but to be honest, the verse to which I’m referring has a humorous air about it. Yet, it also reminds us of a vital lesson about life. Have I piqued your curiosity? Good. Here’s the verse:
“Where no oxen are, the crib is clean: but much increase is by the strength of the ox. ”
— Proverbs 14:4
Isn’t that a great verse? I’ve written a devotion or two about it before, but I felt I needed to address it again. There’s so much truth in these words. Where no oxen are, the crib is clean. Makes sense, right? No oxen means no oxen poo, just as no cows in the field means no cow poo. It sounds like a good deal until we consider the latter part of the verse: but much increase is by the strength of the ox. Sure, we could give up the ox and all the poo that goes with it, but we also give up the advantages. We give up our means to plow and tow. Likewise, with the cows, to get rid of the cows is to eliminate the poo. However, it also eliminates milk and a very tasty meat. I don’t know about you, but I love a good hamburger, ribeye steak, or a big plate of beef tacos. Those delicious meals don’t happen without the cows!
What’s so great about this verse is that its application isn’t limited to farm animals. No, it applies to every single area of life. Let me show you what I mean.
Where no dishes are, the kitchen is clean: but food is much easier to eat with the use of a plate and utensils.
Where no clothes are, the laundry never has to be done: but much warmth—not to mention modesty—is gained through our garments.
Where no car is, gasoline is not required: but many miles are easier to cover with a vehicle.
Where no job is, there is more time for hobbies: but most hobbies don’t make money to live on.
Where no husband is, the floor is free of dirty socks: but many happy days and precious memories are made with the husband.
Where no children are, the house is clean: but much joy and happiness is derived from the children.
Where no rain is, the hikers can hike: but many beautiful blooms and rainbows are made possible by the water from above.
Do you see what I mean? Sure, we can look at everything and everyone around us and see only the negative—or the poo, if you will. Or, we can remember that while there is a poo, there’s also a moo. There’s something to be gained, noticed, or admired. There’s a benefit and blessing. There are two sides to every coin and two perspectives to every situation.
So, the next time you’re tempted to complain about the poo in your life, stop and take the time to notice the moo. You’ll be glad you did.
Give It a Big Squeeze
If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m frugal. I don’t like the word “cheap,” but you can call me “thrifty” if you choose. I’m not a fan of paying $30 for a tie or $200 for a pair of shoes. I appreciate good deals and do my best not to be wasteful.
That being said, there comes a point where I grow frustrated at trying to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste from the tube. Sure, I’ll fight it for a while, but before long, I throw the tube in the trash and add toothpaste to my shopping list. There’s frugal, and then there’s over-the-top miserly. I don’t want to be that person. Sure, I might get a few more days out of that toothpaste tube, but is it really worth it?
Over the past several months, I’ve felt more like the toothpaste tube than the user of said toothpaste. It seems that God is trying to access my full potential, and in doing so, He’s squeezing me tighter than I ever thought possible. We have faced more heartache and disappointment in the last stretch than I care to recount. Even now, we face a deadline of tasks that have to be completed before we board the plane for Wales on January 18th. And, if all that wasn’t stressful enough, we’re not even in our own “home.” Nope, the transmission on our motorhome blew nearly seven weeks ago, and we’ve been waiting on the repairs ever since. My aunt and uncle have graciously loaned us their RV for the time being, and we’re so grateful for that. But because the repairs on ours weren’t completed when they were supposed to be, we’re now going to have to make an extra 1,000-mile round trip sometime between now and going to Wales to return their motorhome and pick up ours. Again, I quote my friend, Charlie Brown: Good grief!
We’re so tired. Yes, we’re excited about nearing the end of our deputation and our departure for Wales. But the relentless attacks against our health, energy, vehicles, and mere sanity have taken their toll. Like that tube of toothpaste, we feel we’ve been squeezed up and down from every angle possible. And let me tell you, being squeezed is NOT pleasant.
But I understand that sometimes it’s necessary. Sure, things could go smoothly, and we could float along in our strength, all the while losing sight of the Lord and His many blessings. Or, we could endure the squeezing, knowing that God is only trying to bring out the very best in us. Each trial, heartache, and disappointment is just another way of making us just like Jesus. Though the pressure is unpleasant, we can rest in the fact that God is molding and making us into what He wants us to be.
I’m reminded of the words from an old Southern Gospel song, “Lord, it hurts, but You’re still God.” This is what I cling to. When I feel I cannot take another squeeze, I remember that God is good and is working all things in my life for the good. I can trust Him, and even more than that, I can be thankful that He cares enough to work so hard to access my full potential. He could have given up on me long ago. But, no, He continues to squeeze, to work on me, to make me better. And, for that, I’m grateful.
“My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
Miracles in the Mundane
“When Jesus then lifted up his eyes, and saw a great company come unto him, he saith unto Philip, Whence shall we buy bread, that these may eat? And this he said to prove him: for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered him, Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may take a little. One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, saith unto him, There is a lad here, which hath five barley loaves, and two small fishes: but what are they among so many? And Jesus said, Make the men sit down. Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. And Jesus took the loaves; and when he had given thanks, he distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to them that were set down; and likewise of the fishes as much as they would. When they were filled, he said unto his disciples, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost. Therefore they gathered them together, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above unto them that had eaten.”
The feeding of the 5,000 is the only miracle outside of the resurrection told in all four gospels. I've read it, studied it, written about it, and heard it preached more times than I can count. I've looked at it from every possible angle, or so I thought. It's not uncommon to hear the story told from the point of view of Jesus, the disciples, the crowd, or the little boy who offered his lunch to Jesus, but recently it struck me that one perspective is missing. So, today, I'd like to look at this story from a different point of view—that of the little boy's mother.
If mothers in Biblical times were like mothers of today, they cared for their families. They took care of household chores and were responsible for the day-to-day operations involved in running a home. That tells me this mama probably packed that little boy's lunch that day. And that, my friends, makes me wonder if she had any idea that her faithfulness to do the expected—and often unnoticed and unappreciated—task of packing a lunch would result in a miracle that would feed thousands.
I expect she didn't. I'm guessing that morning was just like any other. Same boring chores. Same mundane tasks. Cook the meals. Do the dishes. Fold the laundry. Sweep the floors. Nothing exciting. Nothing to write home about. Just the daily grind of every good mama who's ever lived. But here's the thing, despite the monotony and the lack of praise and recognition, she remained faithful. How do I know? Because that little boy didn't leave the house without a lunch. According to the account above, a whole lot of other people did. But not this boy. His mama made sure he had everything he needed. She was a good mom. A faithful mom. A mom who was willing to do the jobs nobody else wanted to do to ensure her family was loved and cared for.
Let's face it, not all of us get to travel the world, be adored by crowds, or have our names in bright shining lights for all to see. Most of us are just ordinary people doing ordinary tasks, and that's okay. The Lord can do mighty things with the mundane. He turned one woman's faithfulness into a miracle that affected more lives than we'll ever know. What could He do with our service?
It may not be glamorous. Or appreciated. Or even noticed. But God knows, and He appreciates. And to Him, faithfulness in the things to which we've been called is far greater than any "flashy" work we choose to do on our own.
Stay faithful in the little things, the mundane tasks. You never know what God may do with that lunch you pack, that blanket you knit, or that card you send. Your act of obedience may be the catalyst for another mighty miracle. I don't know about you, but for me, that awareness makes the mundane seem a little more exciting!