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“Thank God for Something”

Tracey Dyck 14 Comments
Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians! We have so much to be thankful for on this journey: big, life-encompassing things along with the little daily shards of glory we encounter.
Some of the big things I’m thankful for . . .
  • My amazing Savior, whose depth I couldn’t plumb even in a thousand lifetimes. For Him I am grateful.
  • My family. They are Home and Love and a Safe Place to Be. I am grateful for them.
  • My friends. People who ‘get’ me, on whichever level our friendship is–they know me. I know them. I am grateful.
  • Health. I’m grateful.
  • A nation in which I can worship God freely, contribute to how the country is run, and live in relative safety. I’m grateful.
  • Every single church service, message, book, devotional, or Bible study that has given me something to chew on. I’m grateful.
And there are hundreds of little things that bring a smile of thanks to my face. If I tried to list them all, we’d be here for days and I still wouldn’t be done. Lately I’ve been thankful for . . .
  • The sound of a friend’s voice over the phone.
  • Hugs.
  • Yellow leaves whirling down to rest on the front lawn.
  • A bicycle ride.
  • A shared joke.
  • Soft carpet beneath my bare toes.
  • The smell of coffee grounds.
  • Songs that perfectly express how I feel.
  • Blank notebook pages waiting to be written in.
  • Flowers still blooming in mid-October.
  • Happy customers at work.
  • Buttered fresh bread.
  • A favorite scarf.
  • Compliments given and received.
  • The beautiful browns and burgundies and golds and reds of autumn.
  • Sleeping in and lingering over breakfast with my family.
  • A stack of books.
  • Barbecues.
  • My sisters’ giggling across the house.
  • Conversations with my brother.
  • The voice of a cello filling the vehicle as I drive home from work.
  • A movie that instantly becomes one of those happy places, a comfort film you know you’ll watch again whenever you need a pick-me-up.
  • A stunning sunrise.
  • And all of you readers and commenters–I’m thankful for you!
It’s been said that if you wake up in the morning complaining, you’ll have little time to be thankful. But if you wake up and choose to be thankful, you’ll find you have little time for complaining. It’s all about your outlook. You may not be able to change your circumstances or the people around you, but you can control how you see them.
“In everything, give thanks . . .” Not for everything (we aren’t thankful for catastrophe or illness or strife), but in everything. In the midst of the struggle or heartache, we can find something worth being thankful for. And when we do, we’ll find the hard times much easier to bear.
What big or small things are you grateful for today?
 

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Grace

Tracey Dyck 14 Comments

Grace.

We say it before meals. A ballerina has it. A girl is named it. It’s a noun. It’s a verb—the king will grace us with his presence. And it’s a word sprinkled throughout the New Testament.

What is it really?

The best definition I’ve found for grace is unmerited favor.

Unmerited: unearned, not worked for, not deserved in any way.

Favor: excessive kindness or unfair partiality; preferential treatment.

This is what God extends toward us. And so many of us, having sung songs like Amazing Grace hundreds of times and having heard dozens of sermons on the topic, are desensitized to just how utterly, amazingly, mind-boggling this is. We’ve heard this all our lives. So we tune out. We disregard the subject as being basic. Let’s get to the more challenging stuff, right?

Truth is, we’ve barely grasped the fringe of it. Oftentimes the basics are the deepest, most profound parts of our faith—elements that take a lifetime and more to truly dig into.

Grace—unmerited favor—is what grew inside a teenaged girl’s womb.

Grace is what walked the planet, confining God to the limits of human skin.

Grace is what touched untouchable lepers.

Grace is what fed thousands of people who, not long after, would desert the One who fed them.

Grace is what turned itself over to be crucified on a Roman cross.

Grace is what looks at you, in all the dirt of your failings and the scars of your wrongs, and smiles and says, “You are flawless.”

We have watered down this concept of grace. It’s too good to be true, so we add our own “truth” to it. We say there’s grace for the sinner, and after that? Well, you’d better work for it. God gives you a slice of grace when you choose to follow Him, and then you must tread carefully, so as not to use it all up. Because there’s only so and so much of it. If you go too far (and we all draw different lines of what that is), if you make too many mistakes, or too large of a mistake . . . You’d best hope there’s enough mercy left for you.

It sounds ludicrous to say it so bluntly. But many of us, without realizing, think this way. And in so doing, we scoff at a grace so dearly bought, and say, “It’s not enough.”

“It’s not enough. Jesus’ work on the cross is not really a finished work; surely I must add something to it. Surely there’s an if or a when attached.”

But grace is not a well, able to dry up after so much use. Grace is a waterfall, an unending supply of lavish kindness that is completely undeserved.

Expecting parents couldn’t be more excited for their coming child. They prepare a nursery, buy clothes and toys and blankets, read books on how to care for it. And when the baby arrives, oh, the joy! This baby keeps them up at night, soils its diapers, spits up on things, wails to high heaven, and generally does nothing at all to deserve any love. And yet those parents would give their very lives for their child.

That’s the kind of love, the kind of grace, God has toward you and me. We’ve done absolutely nothing to earn it. How could we? Even if we lived to the very best of our ability, put in our highest effort, how could any of it even tip the scales toward an even balance? How could it even begin to match the weight of grace? To even try is to negate its very meaning.

And that baby? When it starts learning to walk, only to fall down again and again? Mom and Dad don’t scold it. They don’t smack it upside the head and say, “Why can’t you learn to walk straight without tripping? Get it together!” No, they cheer their child on. “You can do it! Come on, that’s it. Look at you—you’re doing so well!”

When we fall, our Father picks us up and cheers us on. In fact, it’s that grace that enables and empowers us to learn to walk.

Let’s rediscover the meaning of grace, my friends.

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Members of One Body

Tracey Dyck 12 Comments


They will know we are Christians by our love (John 13:35 paraphrased).

Huh. Right now, it seems they know we’re Christians by our judgmental comments, pointing fingers, and loud arguments—not only aimed at the world, but slung at each other. We arrange ourselves into factions, draw lines between them, and proceed to shout down everyone not in our group. We attack each other’s beliefs. Goodness, we attack each other. We give one another the cold shoulder. We look down our noses at those people who interpret the Bible that way, which is definitely incorrect because it doesn’t line up with our way.

And yet, last I checked, we’re reading the same Bible. We’re serving the same Jesus. We’re brothers and sisters! Sometimes I wonder what our family must look like to everyone else . . . this feuding family in which mother, father, sister, brother, all stake out their corner of the room and react viciously to anyone who suggests that another corner is better.

Baptist, Lutheran, Anglican, Catholic, Evangelical, Protestant, non-denominational. We cling to these titles almost as if they are our salvation. We have our church names, our slogans, our spiritual paraphernalia, and heaven help any who carry a different one.

I am sick and tired of the division. What’s more attractive: the family whose members bristle with discord and acidic comments, or the family who loves each other and sticks together through any disagreement? When I meet either kind of families in public, there is one I gravitate toward and one I do my utmost to stay away from. What do you think our denominational division looks like from the outside?

Look, my siblings and I do not always agree. We have our spats. We’re far from perfect. But in the end, we’re still in the same family; we share the same blood. We carry a common name.

And yes, I do realize that a lot of us don’t actually treat other denominations as badly as I’ve illustrated, but I’m painting this subject in vivid colors in an effort to drive home a point. Why should these differences be such a focus? Don’t we all share more common ground than not? Ultimately, if you believe Jesus is the Son of God, fully God and fully man, and that he walked the planet, showed us how to live, then died and came back to life in order to bring us back to himself . . . then what else is there? You and I are kin.

I’m not saying theology is unimportant, either. We should always continue to dig into Scripture and discover more about who Jesus is, who we are because of him, and what our purpose is here. Always. And I don’t deny that there are Christians out there who believe things I consider unscriptural. But if that belief will not affect their eternal destination, then it is not worth bashing them over it. Will that belief affect their life here on earth? Yep. But a lot of the things we argue about don’t actually shift anyone’s path from heaven to hell, or vice versa. There is a place and time for theological debates, but they are far fewer than we think.

This is all coming from a girl who is very passionate about truth, a girl able to debate a number of points when she wants to. And I wouldn’t believe what I do unless I thought it was right. But I do not, by any means, consider myself to have the full corner on truth. None of us know the entire big picture. I think we’ll all be surprised by something when we get to heaven.

So instead of fighting so adamantly over things that don’t carry much eternal significance, can’t we set our differences aside and love each other? Can we be known by our love? A deep, forgiving, transcendent, no holds barred kind of love? Can we make this our legacy, the reputation we carry?

I’m not suggesting we throw away this denominational thing entirely. It’s a beautiful thing that we can all find a church that worships and serves God in a way we connect with. Each one is gifted for a specific purpose. But it would be amazing if we could find it in ourselves to not care so much about labels.

A couple years ago, a friend of mine invited me to a multi-denominational worship event. I don’t know how many people attended, but we filled a sports stadium. Together we lifted our voices in praise. We crossed borders and stood as one, worshiping God. It didn’t matter which churches we came from. It didn’t matter if we had differing opinions on peripheral matters. We all followed Christ. That was the important thing. We had all been drenched in God’s reckless love, and we all loved him back.

From Him the whole body [the church, in all its various parts], joined and knitted firmly together by what every joint supplies, when each part is working properly, causes the body to grow and mature, building itself up in unselfish love. (Ephesians 4:16, Amplified) And the same verse in the New Living Translation: He makes the whole body fit together perfectly. As each part does its own special work, it helps the other parts grow, so that the whole body is healthy and growing and full of love.

It is a great tactic of Satan to distract us with infighting, to get us quibbling over passages of Scripture, so that we forget to actually live out that very Scripture. Our purpose is to populate heaven! Instead we are obsessed with populating our corner with more like-minded individuals. Though oft-quoted, this still holds true: A house divided against itself cannot stand.

Over and over, the Bible reminds us that we are all parts of one body. Each part is vital and has a different function. But we are one.

I appeal to you, dear brothers and sisters, by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, to live in harmony with each other. Let there be no divisions in the church. Rather, be of one mind, united in thought and purpose. (1 Corinthians 1:10, NLT)

Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace. For there is one body and one Spirit, just as you have been called to one glorious hope for the future. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father, who is over all and in all and living through all. (Ephesians 4:2-6, NLT)

Our Sunday mornings may look different. One sits on a pew and sings hymns. Another stands in an auditorium and sings songs written yesterday. One may come dressed in jeans, another in their utmost best. Your church building might sport a steeple that’s been there for a century, or church might be held in a converted grocery store. Maybe you’re a part of half a dozen people that come together in someone’s home, or maybe your congregation numbers in the thousands. Does it matter?

As long as you follow Jesus, no. It doesn’t. We’re family. Let’s act like it.

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Small Beginnings

Tracey Dyck 12 Comments

I think I’ve figured out why the young are always admonished to dream big, or to keep dreaming.

It’s because dreaming can be so incredibly hard.

I graduated from high school in 2014. Being homeschooled, I had the opportunity to plan my own grad ceremony. My family and I rented a spot in a local church. Friends and relatives showed up to wish me well. And there were speeches made my parents, my three grandmothers, and my brother. Bet you can guess a common theme, right?

They offered golden nuggets of advice for living well and following Jesus, of course. But time and again, it came back to the topic of dreams. Aspirations for the future. Choosing where to stake your tent. Never giving up. Always looking ahead. Dreaming big dreams, holding on to hope for great things.

We hear it everywhere. Disney creates sugary tales of underdogs who, with just the right amount of goodness and a little help from magic, achieve their dreams with a “Bippity, boppity, boo!” Songwriters encourage us to reach for the stars. People tell us we can be anything we want, do anything we set our minds to.

All well and good. But there’s more to dreaming. And I think maybe we forget that there’s more, because the next part is harder to swallow.

There’s this thing called perseverance. There’s another thing called stick-to-itiveness. There are ingredients we must add called patience, humility, and a willingness to learn (so that we can actually handle our dreams coming true).

Because some days, dreaming is downright hard. When everything in your world looks exactly the same as it did a year ago, or five years ago, it’s hard to believe things will ever change. When you fall down again and again–when the mountain you were climbing ends up being far, far higher than you imagined at the start–it’s oh so tempting to give up. It’s tempting to let the dream die, because it hurts to hold onto it.

My dad recently described me as being “a bulldog with lipstick.” When I fix my mind on something, I don’t let go. I clamp my jaws around it and refuse to let anyone tug it from my grasp–not Time, not Challenges, not Discouragement. I would be lying if I said that wasn’t hard sometimes. It is. Some days I couldn’t even tell you why I do it. But I know it will be worth it one day. I’ve come too far to give up now. So on I go.

Something I’ve had to learn–no, a truth that splashed me in the face like a bucket of cold water (which was the only way I’d find the humility to accept it), was that small beginnings are okay. I grew up fashioning grandiose dreams, under the delusion that they would just happen, and that they would happen in large proportions.

Now I’m realizing that great things start small.

I’m realizing that though I long for the battlefield, I have been despising the training ground, and how unwise is that? If I ran into battle without an idea of how to swing a sword, I’d be dead in moments.

I’m realizing that to be faithful in the little things will one day result in bigger things coming my way.

I’m realizing that I’m most certainly not above doing the menial and the mundane.

It’s these sandpaper days that smooth my rough edges. It’s these long hours of doing things that aren’t what I’ve set in my heart to do, that are preparing me for those very dreams.

There are waiting rooms in life. There are training arenas. Embrace them. Five loaves and two fish will become a feast. A tiny seed will turn into a massive tree. Small beginnings, dear one–don’t despise them. Somewhere down the road, you’ll look back on those little days and smile, for the wisdom and beauty woven into them will finally be visible.

“I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.” -Helen Keller

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin . . . (Zechariah 4:10a)

 

 

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