Increase My Faith

There is a picture of a map hanging on my wall with these words inscribed, "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders." I need increased faith for my life's journey, ministry, and to pursue God ordained dreams for the future. Increased faith is not increased intellectualism. It is more than knowledge. Increased faith is not increased wishing. It is more than wishing for things to come true. 

Increased faith is growing belief, it is trusting in the tough times, and it is taking God at His word. Increased faith is refusing to be daunted by challenging circumstances. It is believing what God says over what our eyes tell us. To increase faith we must endure some trials along the way. We must learn in the laboratory of life that God is faithful. We stand in trust because we are grounded in truth. God does not lie. He does what He says He will do. 

If I want God to increase my faith, I invite Him to stretch my faith way beyond where I am comfortable. To lead me to impossible situations where I'm challenged to trust Him for improbable outcomes. To behold His miraculous intervention. That is when He gets the most glory. Like Moses at the Red Sea. Like Israel in the wilderness crying out for water and it flowing out of a rock. Like David fearlessly facing down a giant with a sling and stones. Like Elijah digging a trench and pouring water on the sacrifice and trusting God to send the fire. Like Jesus telling people to remove the stone from the tomb for his dead friend Lazarus. 

Increased steps of faith often happen on the wrong side of logic. Increased faith steps are often irrational. That should not deter me. Naysayers will try to sow doubt. Satan will spread fear. Increased faith overcomes those tactics. Increased faith looks at mountains as molehills. Increased faith stands firm when others flee in cowardice. I want to live with increased faith no matter how steep the price required to get it. The amazing adventures that follow will glorify our God and that is the reason I exist. 

What Do You Miss Most

I had the privilege of ministering to one of our widows this morning. She is a treasure. A rare jewel of a person aging alone without her spouse, but she is not a bitter lady. She is classy. She is delightful, interesting, and joyful. I promised her months ago I would come see her. Today was the day. We sat at her dining room table and visited for an  hour and a half. 

She and her husband were married for 63 years. I have not even reached the age of 63. He died in 2019. I asked her at one point what she missed about him the most. Her answer surprised me. She replied misty eyed, "I miss his touch." She lives alone. She is faithful in attendance among a group of other widows in our church. I often stop by their class on Sunday mornings to visit. Those ladies are important to me. Very important. 

As I thought about daily routines, it became apparent to me that she probably never gets physical touch from her class. I've never seen the ladies in her class hug one another. Does she ever get a hug? A pat on the back? Do people shake her hand?  Then I thought about my own life. Brenda and I usually kiss in the mornings and at night before going to sleep. We hug nearly everyday. There are others in the church who refuse to shake hands preferring hugs instead. I shake hands with multiple people during the week. Physical touch is built into rhythms of life. 

The saintly senior lady I visited today does not have that. While she did not say so, I imagine her missing holding hands with her husband. Periodically Brenda and I hold hands during the night. Something this precious lady does not get to experience. She does not enjoy the soft tender peck on the cheek or a quick kiss just to say I love you without words. She does not get any tender strokes on her cheeks nor does she get enjoy a quick hug. She lives a touch free life for the most part. 

Multiple times she choked back tears as we visited about her late husband. He was an interesting gentleman. I wish I could have met him.  63 years is a long time to share life with someone and then that person to be snatched away. 63 years of little day to day touches. A shoulder rub. An Eskimo kiss. Walking arm in arm. 

I left that visit with two take aways. First,  I want to make the most of the moments I have with Brenda. I know those times will not last forever. Either the Lord will take one of us home first, or Jesus will rapture us. The second take away is I need to remember how meaningful a handshake, a pat on the back or a hug might mean to someone who never gets any physical touch. I know this is a sticky topic in this day and time. There is such a thing as inappropriate touching. I certainly want to steer clear of that. On the other hand, God might use me and you to be the hands of Jesus to minister through simple human touch to other hurting and lonely people. Something as simple as human touch is something many of us take for granted everyday. May this be a reminder to keep watch for those who could use a little Jesus with skin on..