Kathy Weckwerth

Everyday Encouragement

Uncategorized

The Plan

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I’m a planner. It’s as simple as that. My children know it. My husband, Farmer Dean knows it.  My church family knows it. When my family takes a vacation together, their only question is, “Mom, is this allowed in the plan?”

When January arrives each year, I set aside a day for planning. I pray, I prep, and I grab my yellow highlighter, large erasable white board, and huge calendar. 

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved planning. My father was a college professor and organized our lives around the school’s calendar. We’d plan out our vacation a year in advance, trips to visit grandparents, trips to the grocery store, trips to a neighboring city.  We had a plan and we stuck to it.

As I entered high school, I planned everything I could. I helped my boss plan her sales at the jewelry store downtown, helped our pastor plan the church services, and helped teachers plan events. When teachers would hand me a two-thousand-word paper that was due in a month, I’d make a plan to get it finished that week.

I planned. It made me happy. It made me encouraged. I felt like I had control.  

Currently, our circumstances across the world have led me to understand something at a deeper level. Many things are out of our plan, far out of our control. We like to plan our years, plan our weeks, plan our days. But something so horrific has stood in the way of our journey. Something affecting us all. A pandemic.

As I turn to Scripture for comfort, I remind myself of this fact: God is sovereign and still in control. He’s allowing this for a reason. Proverbs 16:9 says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

God is watching over us through these dark days. We would never plan for this. But our plan for this life needs to always include releasing our hold on what we think life should be, and allowing God to make it what He needs it to be. Hold on. God’s got a plan. It’s better than anything we could come up with using yellow markers, a white board, and a huge calendar.  

The Leftovers

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The Leftovers

There’s something strange about those little Tupperware containers that sit on the refrigerator shelf.  I see them, their little red tops alerting me that yesterday’s supper is hanging on today.  But the thing is … I don’t like to eat left-overs.  Neither does Farmer Dean.  We claim we will.  We want to, really, we do.  But when the next day rolls around, something different calls to us.

This morning, when I opened up the refrigerator to grab the farm fresh eggs from neighbor, JaVonne, I made my way past the many containers of leftovers.  I pushed them aside and wondered if anyone would ever come and visit and take care of the ever-growing number of boxes.  But, alas, I knew completely, it was time.  Time to fix the problem.

I piled them on the center island and began to open them one by one.  Seriously, I believed that they were from yesterday, or three days ago.  But the more I opened the food, the more I saw mold, and disintegrating food particles- some of which I had no idea what they started out as.

The warm sudsy water hit the dirty dishes and one by one, I made my way past the awful truth.  I had kept things on the shelf for far too long.  As I washed them and set them to dry, I began to compare the leftovers on the shelves of my refrigerator, with the leftovers on the shelves of my soul.

How often do I have someone say something that hurts.  Or perhaps ignore me when I’m speaking.  Or disagree with me adamantly, only to bruise my emotions.  How often have I slammed a lid on that and shoved it to the back of a shelf somewhere in my mind where I don’t think about it.  And then, one day, when something reminds me, I pull it out and realize, it’s gone bad.  Real bad.  It no longer looks like what it did, but it’s taken on a life of its own.  Disgusting.

Sin is like that.  Whether it’s sin that you and I have committed, or sin that others have committed, and it affects us.  We can choose to ignore it, sure, but if not dealt with, it will continue to sit on the shelf and sour, decay, and turn rancid. 

When I finished washing the many containers, I poured a steaming cup of coffee and sat in my comfy chair.  I looked out at the trees that had lovely birds chirping happily and said to myself- it’s time to unpack those little containers.  And I did.

 There were words that someone recently said that hurt me.  There was a purposeful laugh at something I did that wasn’t meant to be funny.  There was an unkind text message that tried to put me in my place.  And there was someone who was angry when I told them I couldn’t help them. I scooped everything onto a big garbage heap at the foot of the cross and told Jesus, “Here, I’m sorry.  Please, wash these clean.”

Although I was tempted to put some things back on the shelf in my heart, I remembered how awful things looked when they had outlived their time on the shelf.

My heart had things that were stored up and certainly were way past their expiration date.

Today, I’m wondering about you.  Have you checked the shelves of your heart lately?  Do you have things stored there that should have been cleared out weeks ago?  It’s time for a clean sweep.  Time for the garbage heap.  Time for Jesus, to wash things clean with the wonderful blood that He shed for all our sins.  Yours.  Mine.  And the refrigerator’s shelves.

1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, He (Jesus) is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Just a few leftovers~stored on the refrigerator shelf

The Sting of Rejection

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I Peter 2:4 says, ” As you come to Him, the living Stone–rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him.”

Last week,  Farmer Dean called me and asked, “Ma’am, did you change the password on our computer?”

“No,” I stated flatly.

“Well, it won’t let me in,” he answered.

We tried again and he was right … nothing worked.  My password was rejected.

We took it to computer techs.  They said, “No worries.  We have the power and the authority to override the rejection.”  Rejected … but with a small black jump drive inserted into our computer … they did it.  Life was recovered.

I’ve dealt with rejection many times throughout my life.  I have been rejected by others.  I have rejected others.

To reject something means:  to refuse to accept or agree in something because it is not good enough or not the right thing.

I have been rejected for employment, rejected in love, rejected in friendship, and rejected by church people.  There have been moments in this life where I have felt rejected by God.

But here’s what I know about rejection~ if you don’t DEAL with it, rejection will bury itself into your spirit and soul and will begin to wield its way into how you think and act.

Out of any human being on earth … Jesus understands rejection.

Isaiah 53:3 says, “He was hated and rejected by people.  He had much pain and suffering.  People would not even look at Him.  He was hated, and we didn’t even notice Him.” NCVB

I believe people can reject our ideas, our actions, our looks, our ethnicity, our accent, our faith for all kinds of reasons.

Sometimes it’s jealousy, control, competition, no connection, not their taste, or a trigger that reminds them of hurt in their own life.

3 simple points that  help us focus on how to deal with rejection are as follows:

Rejection is Part of Life
Rejection is Painful
Rejection has Purpose
In Genesis 29, we find the story of Jacob and his two sister-wives, Leah and Rachel.

Jacob sees Rachel in a field and  automatically loves her at first sight. He works for her father for seven years to obtain her as a wife, but the next morning discovers he has been tricked and he’s married Leah.

He works another seven years to obtain Rachel as a wife. But scripture is very clear on his feelings for Leah.

31 “When the Lord saw that Leah was not loved, he enabled her to conceive, but Rachel remained childless. 32 Leah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, “It is because the Lord has seen my misery. Surely my husband will love me now.’”

33 She conceived again, and when she gave birth to a son she said, “Because the Lord heard that I am not loved, he gave me this one too.” So she named him Simeon.

34 Again she conceived, and when she gave birth to a son she said, “Now at last my husband will become attached to me, because I have borne him three sons.” So he was named Levi.

Leah desperately wanted to be loved.  She felt like if she just had sons, her husband would love her.  Have you ever done this …  convinced yourself if I just do this, they will accept me?

But something changed in Leah’s attitude in verse 35.

35 She conceived again, and when she gave birth to a son she said, “This time I will praise the Lord.” So she named him Judah. Then she stopped having children.

Judah means: PRAISE.

Leah finally got it!  Leah had been looking for her self-worth from another human but was continually rejected.

Our worth can’t be placed in the hands of humans.  When we are looking for affirmation in places other than God, looking for our self worth in what we do, how we look, what we can accomplish, we will place our lives in the hands of those who can reject us and our footing will be offset.  We’ll fall!

The job you didn’t get, well, it wasn’t God’s best for you.  The man who said you didn’t do it for him, well, he wasn’t God’s best for you.  The person who didn’t want to be your friend, well, they weren’t God’s best for you.

Don’t focus on those who are rejecting you and what you don’t have.  Remember the truth of the One who loves you, created you, and thinks you’re fabulous!  He never rejects us. Give your life over to the one who has the power and authority to override rejection!

Psalm 94:14, “For the Lord will not reject his people; He will never forsake his inheritance.”

The Space Between Tragedy & Reality

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Many years ago, my best friend from New York called me sobbing.  She was at work when she learned the sad news that her father had passed.  Her world revolved around the kind man, and it was a horrible tragedy.

She was at her desk and completely undone.  I asked her calmly to hand the phone to her co-worker.  From there, I orchestrated steps to get someone to drive her car and take her home.

I took steps to arrange flowers for the family, a plane ticket to get to her home, a ride for me from the airport and for us to the funeral.  I met with the family and helped with some funeral details. I cooked and cleaned and picked out her clothes for the funeral.    But mostly, I held my friend while she cried.  I wiped the tears while she wept.  I listened while she remembered.

A week went by and I had to head home to my own family and job.  I knew in my heart that God had used me to bring comfort.

But something happened.  About three weeks later I received a phone call from the same friend.  “You never helped me or did a thing when my dad died!” she exclaimed.  I was in utter shock.  What?  Huh?   But, I was there, took off from my job, bought a ticket, held your hand, and on and on my thoughts raced.  This was the aftermath of grief.

I began to understand something about comfort at a deeper level that day.  The tragedy occurs, the comfort is needed.  God sends you and me into the situation to deliver that comfort.  But it’s always during the space between tragedy and shock.

My friend remembered the tragedy, but in the moments and hours of shock, she did not remember anything else.  Her mind was blurry.  She knew I was with her, but it never dawned on her that anything else was done except showing up. She couldn’t remember what took place, only that she lost her daddy.

What happens in that space between?  God calls us, God allows us, God uses us.  We head in to the moments of pain and we live in them with the one who needs God’s comfort most.  What we do in those moments is important to God, and detrimental to that person’s stability, courage and faith.

But the key is this:  we don’t get the glory.  God gets the glory.

We don’t need the kudos, the attention, the crowd clapping; we just need to know these are the moments when we are the hands and feet of Jesus.  It’s not about who we are, but about Whose we are.  We are being used.

Our hearts must be focused on the need of others and not on ourselves.

In Matthew 26, Jesus is in the Garden of Gethsemane.  He knows the tragedy is coming, but in those moments, He needs His friends’ comfort.  But they cannot give it.  They are tired from discipling, they are weary and worn.

“Wake up!  Just stay awake for a little while. Be with me.  Comfort me.”  Jesus says.

They cannot comfort.  They don’t understand what’s going to happen.

In the moments between tragedy and shock, just before reality settles in, God gives generous doses of comfort.  In the moments of comfort, God delivers courage.  It comes from the places of His heart.  It’s in His Word, His nature, His people, and His Spirit.  We just need to look and we will see it.

Recently, my good friend’s husband died.  It was a tragedy and a shock.  In those moments in the dark corridors of tragedy and shock, she pulled me in close and hugged me at the funeral.  She whispered, “Thanks for being here with me.  Thank you for your comfort, because it’s giving me strength.”  She got it.  She understood that in the moments of grief and pain, God’s comfort was delivering courage.

There lies the answer of the place in between.  In the comfort … we deliver God’s courage.  In the space … we deliver His strength.

That’s our purpose when tragedy strikes.  No fan-fare.  No attention-seeking.  No self-centeredness.  Just the hands and feet of Christ.  That’s where God’s work is done … in the space between.

What’s Humility Look Like On You

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Recently, Farmer Dean and I were at a store looking for a new jacket.  Dean was along for his opinion, but as a shopper, I pretty much know what I like and what I don’t like.

The Farmer is kind and gentle.  He’s not boastful and he’s pretty good at being humble.  So when he gives feedback, it doesn’t sting.

I tried on a fabulous jacket that I loved and my sweet husband said, ” Mam, I don’t think it looks good.”  I said, “Huh?  What are you saying to me?”

He answered, “I’m not sure.  Either it’s the color or it’s the cut.  The other one you tried on looked better.  This, well … uh, it’s not so good.”

And then I saw it.  I really saw it.  I went to the large mirror at the back of the store and saw what Dean saw.  It didn’t look so great.  Bunched up in the back, too short in the sleeves and really made me look like I had jumped from upstairs to get into it.  But the funny thing was all along, I thought it felt good … I felt happy so it must look good.

Today, this same scenario makes me think of my everyday life and what God’s been talking to me about.  The older I get, the more experience I have had with the talents, gifts, and jobs I carry out in life.

Lately, wherever I go, people seem to overlook my years of hard work and trying to be humble, I avoid stating (although I really want to), “But I’ve been a Director of Worship & Creative Arts for 35 years, ” or “Wait!  I’ve been a professional musician for 35+ years, wrote 5 books, have had my own bands, sung commercials for 8 years on radio, started my own business, blah … blah … blah.

You see if you’re reading this, you don’t want to be impressed by my resume.  You want to be impressed by my kindness, my gentleness, my Christ-likeness.

But this week (and last) I was pushed by people challenging my knowledge, my skill-set and abilities.  I reached in the back of my mind for my manual of all I’ve done, when suddenly it dawned on me.  The Apostle Paul, one of the most respected apostles in scripture (who taught, preached, healed, wrote 13 New Testament books blah, blah, blah) didn’t start off his letter to the Romans with:

“Let me prove my value.  Here’s all I’ve done.  Doesn’t it look good on me?”

Nope.  He said these words, “This letter is from Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God.”  He could have said, “I, the Apostle Paul …” But instead, he put the truth first.  As a Christ-follower he was an incredible man, but he wore his humility beautifully. Like a perfect fitted suit coat.  First comes the “slave of Christ …” and then he moves on to calling himself an apostle.

The couple of people last week who wanted to boast and brag and let me know that they were sure I didn’t know anything, well, I just gently reminded myself of Paul.  No proving.  No bragging.  No remembering.  No comparison.  And definitely no competition.  Let the others wear their coats and as the Farmer said, not look so good.

You see, I want to wear my jacket of humility right there for everyone to see.  Like Paul.  Like Farmer Dean.  Like Jesus Christ.

What’s humility look like on you?