In this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Harold Arnett offers a reflection on Acts 3, one in which he’s reminded of a Christmas gift from his wife, a new drill. “I was a bit disappointed when I opened the gift,” Harold writes. “The new drill was tiny, about half the size and weight of the one I already had. ‘I don’t need a toy drill,’” he thought.
It’s not an obvious connection, but this is what we find in the story Harold refers to from Acts 3: “Peter and John were going up to the temple. . . . And a man lame from birth was being carried in. . . . When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. . . . Peter said, ‘I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk. . . . Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God.”
Again and again in my own life, I’ve found this to be consistent with the way God answers prayer. Stuck in an impossible place, I pray for help. Unfortunately, the answers that come to mind are too small for the problem I’m facing. So I continue to pray. And, if I’m honest, I also continue to be frustrated. What I forget is that God is more likely to bring me a seed of future potential than the specific thing I think I need. I ask for what I want right now – relief. But God wants to give me freedom.
Harold found that this tiny new drill “had the same torque as the older, larger, heavier drill,” allowing for “hours of overhead drilling or driving without my arm and shoulder beginning to ache.” And as he reflects on his life, Harold recognizes that “what at first disappointed me in God’s response to some request or longing actually proved to be far better than the thing or situation for which I had asked.” God always gives “greater growth, greater blessing, greater good” than we first imagined.
Here at Barclay Press, I’ve been praying for more people who might give monthly to support the work we do as publishers of truth, sharing stories that have the potential to change lives. And people do give! Little by little this last year, we’ve reduced inventory, paid down significant portions of our long-term debt, and built up a small but stable fund-reserve that’s saved us more than once. The thing is, God isn’t calling us to pay our bills (as much as that matters). God intends for us to grow and to flourish and to make a difference. So I’m taking Harold’s words to heart this morning, and I’m thanking God for knowing our work well enough to give us the tools we need, even if at first they seem too small to be of use.
Eric Muhr
To endure
In this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Christine Riffel Herbel shares that “years ago, my mother wrote on a sticky note, ‘It’s always too soon to despair.’ I kept that note to remind me to endure.” Christine is writing a reflection on 2 Corinthians 4:8 – “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair” – a reflection in which she relates the story of Aron Ralston.
In April 2003, Aron was trapped in a Utah canyon for more than 5 days when his arm was pinned under a dislodged boulder. Aron escaped, and he tells the story of that escape in Between a Rock and a Hard Place. Christine writes that we, too, “may have times in our lives when it seems like we are riding down a mountain at full speed on an avalanche, and life is falling out of control. We feel helpless.” Or we may find ourselves “caught between a rock and a hard place. . . . We feel like we are holding on for dear life.”
In times like these, we long for escape. And escape sometimes comes. But while we wait, the temptation is to despair. Christine writes that it’s in times like these that she holds to the promise in 2 Corinthians 4:17 – “For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.”
And she remembers her mother’s words, “It’s always too soon to despair.”
Eric Muhr
The seeds of spring
In this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Chuck Orwiler reminds us that “the seeds of spring wait in the cold darkness of winter.” It is cold. The days are short. But silently and invisibly, just beneath the soil’s surface, there are seeds — waiting for the ground to soften, waiting for the rain to come, waiting for a little more warmth — and spring after spring after spring, they emerge. We know they are coming. We know that there’s reason for hope. We know that what we endure today isn’t permanent.
As Chuck writes, “We may be in a winterish season, which sucks us into its darkness. We may have thoughts and behavior of which we are not proud.” But there’s hope because “the God of resurrection is not as easily sidetracked as we are.” God knows what’s coming. God knows what good there is, silently and invisibly waiting just beneath the soil’s surface. That’s why “our dead ends are often God’s beginnings.”
In his reflection on 1 Samuel 1:4-11, Chuck admits that even though “Hannah was a woman of prayer . . . she was embroiled in a rivalry that left more of her humanity showing than she might like. But that is not all. Something deep within her was touched, and she cried out to God with all her heart.”
I think this is the key to the story in 1 Samuel. Hannah admitted her need. She begged God for help. Then there was spring. “We raise our hand to heaven and cry out from the depths of our being,” and God hears us. God listens. God responds.
At the end of this morning’s reflection, Chuck offers this prayer: “O Lord Almighty, if you will only look upon your servant’s misery and remember me.” And God will. Because even “in a winterish season . . . we attend to that which burns within us” while “the seeds of spring wait.”
Someday soon, what has been waiting will emerge, and it will be beautiful.
Eric Muhr