Hide and Seek

I've got to admit, this morning was a struggle for me. When I have a book of the Bible I'm working through -- a "next chapter on the docket" -- it's a little easier to focus my devotional time. Since I finished Esther yesterday and haven't decided yet which book I'm going to dive into next... this morning was a little more difficult to focus, because a.) I forgot to set my coffee timer last night, so I had to actually wait until my coffee was finished while I was reading, and b.) I had to realize -- once again (this is a lesson often learned, and then forgotten) -- that Tamara doesn't run the show, God does, and sometimes... I just have to wait on Him.

I can't remember if I've told this story before or not, but if I have, it's been a while, and you've forgotten about it, so I'll tell it again. Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year, and no matter how old I am, I still have child-like excitement as the big day (presents unwrapping time!) approaches. We decorate the house, we light all the cinnamon candles ever made, we set up the manger scene on the bookshelf and line it with cut pine branches, we bake enough cookies to feed a small country, and the strains of Bing Crosby's White Christmas plays on repeat in the background. George Bailey makes his annual appearance alongside Clarence Oddbody, AS2 in It's a Wonderful Life, and for a few short weeks, the whole world is soft and warm and beautiful.

On the big night (or morning, depending on the year), we gather in the living room, and before we hand out presents, we pull out the Bible and read the timeless story from Luke 2: "In those days, Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world..." And important figures from more than 2,000 years ago make their appearance in our living room as we read about the macro-level politics that brought about Jesus' birth in Bethlehem, fulfilling what the prophets had written: "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me One Who will be Ruler over Israel, Whose origins are from old, from ancient times" (Micah 5:2). 

Anyway, this one particular Christmas when I was still pretty young, we had finally arrived at present-unwrapping time. Our family gathered in our living room and one by one, gifts were distributed from beneath the tree. There was one tiny package left on the tree skirt that my mom told me I was supposed to save for last. I eyed it dubiously. It was small and did not hold much promise of being my long-hoped for hamster cage I wanted that year (I did tell this story before; that is, I'd mentioned this tiny present before! Check out "20/20, not 2020" ... but not until after you finish reading this story, because that post is a spoiler).

When my other presents proved not to be that hamster cage, I was already a little disappointed, even before I'd opened up my small package. I had been, in the words of Dusty Springfield, "wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin', plannin' and dreamin'..." about that hamster cage. I had leaned all of my thoughts into this thing which I had hoped for so much... and I wasn't going to get it after all.

I had sought after it with all my heart... and the disappointment before the actual opening was already killing my excitement. 

So... I opened it. And confirmed my worst fears. My parents had gotten me... a piece of paper. Not even a whole piece of paper. It was a small corner of notebook paper torn from its larger parent, with something written on it.

I was so disappointed. And burned, really. Who gives a torn off piece of paper to a kid who has so earnestly been seeking so much more than that?

And I admit (to my shame) that I threw down the paper with tears in my eyes. My parents hastily rectified the situation. "You have to read it, Tamara!" 

Which made me a.) instantly feel better, because it was the beginning clue of a treasure hunt that led, ultimately -- you've guessed it -- to my brand new, long hoped for hamster cage (now you can go read my above link, because that was the spoiler), and b.) feel wretchedly ashamed of myself for giving up too soon and with an attitude that did not at all reflect gratefulness.

The Lord's been speaking to me over the last few days about seeking Him. We're super familiar with this concept, right? Some of us grew up on the song based on Matthew 6:33: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness... And all these things will be added unto you, Hallelu, Hallelujah." At some point, you break up into a round, and then the sopranos come in with the descant: "Ha-- le-- lu-- jah..." It's so pretty.

This morning, I was reading in Malachi 3. The Lord is talking in 3:1: "'See, I will send My messenger (a prophetic proclamation regarding John the Baptist, who prepares the way for Jesus), who will prepare the way before Me. Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to His temple; the Messenger of the Covenant (that is, the Messiah), Whom you desire will come,' says the Lord Almighty."

Yay! The Messiah is coming, the Messiah is coming! I feel like Chicken Little, running around in circles, proclaiming the message. We've been seeking Him, and suddenly He is coming.

But Malachi doesn't stop there. He keeps going in 3:2-3: "But who can endure the day of His coming? Who can stand when He appears? For He will be like a refiner's fire or a launderer's soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; He will purify the Levites and refine them like gold and silver."

And Chicken Little pauses and instead of shouting for joy, he shouts in panic. The Messiah is coming, the Messiah is coming! 

I used to play Hide-and-Seek in the dark in my grandparents' basement with my cousins, and there were some rooms in that basement that didn't even have the well-windows that gave muted light. When you entered those rooms, it was pitch-black, and as the seeker, you held your hands out in front of you and felt around the familiar furniture, hoping your fingers might meet something that felt like a person.

I was the seeker many times. It never failed -- even though I knew someone was there, even though it was the best place for hiders to hide, the moment my fingers touched something soft and skin-covered, I always leaped back with a shriek at the suddenness of the contact.

When the Lord comes suddenly to His temple, even though we've bent everything into seeking Him, will we flinch back at the discovery of His refiner's fire? Of His launderer's soap? 

Because those things hurt. When I fell and scraped my knee, the pain was... well, pain, but after a few minutes, it became less painful, and I was able to kind of move from sobbing my little heart out to wiping away the tears... until my mom emerged from the house with the bottle of iodine. Germ-killer. Purifier of germs. Torturous fluid designed to create agony in the purification process.

And reluctant screams issued from my throat as my mom liberally applied the red liquid until every last germ died an agonizing death...

And then the healing began. 

I hear the Lord telling me this morning: Seek through the pain to the healing and reward on the other side. In other words, don't flinch back when He suddenly appears. Because He is a Refiner's Fire, He will hunt down and destroy the sin we cling to so tenaciously, because He is holy and He demands holiness of us. He is a launderer's soap; He will scour the stains and remove the dirt. And it's not going to be a fuzzy-wuzzy experience.

Here's something: A true seeker of the Lord is not going to live a fuzzy-wuzzy comfortable life. And if you find yourself comfortable in the Lord's presence, you'd better start asking yourself why you're comfortable.

Not joy-filled (that is promised in Nehemiah 8:10), not full of peace (also promised in Philippians 4:6)... but comfortable.

In Luke 9:23, Jesus says: "Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me." The last time I checked, carrying a cross, denying oneself, isn't a comfortable experience. That cross is heavy, it involves some effort, and it promises pain in the journey. So why do we do it?

Because there's a reward at the end. There's a hamster cage on the other side of that tiny, ripped off piece of notebook paper. There's new flesh to replace the skinned knee. There's the light of day after the dark basement. 

The reward can't be that good. 

Oh yes, it can! "As it is written: 'No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him'" (1 Corinthians 2:9). And "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away" (Revelation 21:4).

Y'all, that's what is waiting for those who seek Him through to the other side. No more death. No more mourning. No more crying. No more pain. Complete healing. Refined and beautiful on the other side. It's so, so worth it.

One final story: On the way home from church this past Sunday, my husband was taking song requests, one from each member of the family, to play over the radio until we reached home (we live 20 minutes away, and with five people in our family, it usually comes out just about perfectly). He started with the kids, which resulted in a song about a hamster dance (I think), and a couple of other ones that I didn't really understand, but that featured a synthesizer and a pretty decent beat. 

When my turn came, I asked for Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns, and as the familiar words threaded through our van: "Oh what I would do to have the kind of faith it takes to climb out of this boat I'm in onto the crashing waves..." one of my kids asked: "Mommy, why do you always listen to Jesus music? When you have the choice?"

I... admit, I couldn't answer. I just didn't have the words right then. The conversation went on without me, and we continued home as I tried to think of a good way to help my kids understand why I always "choose to listen to Jesus music."

The next morning, I wrote down the chores my kids were supposed to complete that day, but I let my kids pick the verse they were going to memorize (they memorize one verse a day during the summers). My son, flipping through my Bible, happened to see an underlined verse in Psalms (84:10). He asked: "How about this one, Mom? 'Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.'"

And the perfect opportunity opened like a door in front of me. "Y'all wanted to know why I always listen to Jesus music? That's it, right there. Because a single day in the courts of my Jesus, in the gates of heaven, is better than a thousand days anywhere else."

Not that every "non-Jesus song" is uninspired, and not that every "Jesus song" touches my heart. But the point is: I would rather seek Him. Period. Always. Always seek through to the other side.