Cast My Bread Where??

I swear He snuck up on me before I was fully awake. My eyes weren’t even opened when I became aware of Him. My Heavenly Father often does that to me, giving me thoughts and ideas about the new day while I’m still half asleep. He knows I’m vulnerable, I don’t have my guard up, and I’m going to be more open to His whisperings.

He quietly suggested I write a statement and publish it publicly on social media. He supplied the opening words, which is always how I write—from His springboard. He also provided some “rules of engagement.”   

Father God didn’t demand or require I comply, as some might think. The suggestion wasn’t a “do or die” sort of thing. He simply presented it as a next step for me. I had the choice and the option to take it or leave it.

I crawled out of bed, all the while making sure I remembered the specific opening words and the instructions. God and I both knew that I would follow through on the directions of His Holy Spirit.

I have made a point of being reticent on social media regarding most things political and spiritual. I might hint at or insinuate my beliefs, but God forbid I should lay them all out for God and the world to see! After all, those of faith shouldn’t enter the political arena!

God asked me to make a personal statement regarding the one I am supporting in the 2024 Presidential Election for President of the United States. I was to cite five reasons why. The first two were set in place in my mind; the other three would follow. And so I sat down before my computer, still in my PJs, and laid out what I ended up calling my personal manifesto.

I wrote of my faith, of God, and of my country, listing the reasons why I supported one candidate over the other.

It wasn’t an easy task—not the writing of it, but the fact I knew I would be making a public stand and declaration. I don’t even speak of these things with my family, let alone others with whom I’ve fostered friendships over time, or strangers. I avoid confrontation like the plague and didn’t relish the potential controversy.

His specific instructions: “Do not defend yourself. Do not engage.” He pointed out I was to simply present a personal statement, not one to convince others or one subject to debate. Post it and walk away. Period.

I completed the project. The next step was to make it public, which I did—not only on FaceBook but on X, formerly known as Twitter, as well. That’s when hysteria took over my being. I’d kept my positions secret for a long, long time. The doubts and second-guessing flooded in.

I decided I needed to take a walk in the fresh air. Besides, I needed some milk from the store. As I walked, His reassurances calmed me down. He reminded me that I had done what He asked me to do. And I needed to stop wrestling with my imagination and leave it behind.

Then He spoke: “Cast your bread upon the water.” What??? Bread plus water quickly turns soggy before completely breaking down. I had a mental vision of a teeny, tiny raft with a loaf of bread on it to keep it from getting wet. 😊 Another version states, “Send out your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will get it back.” [1]

This was His idea, at His direction, and at His hand—not mine. I have cast my bread on the water. I still have no clue what He means, but perhaps in time I shall understand.

There is an advocacy amongst some believers that we should remain out of politics. Trust me, I’m not in favor of getting in the middle of everything that is knock-down, drag-out, but I’m often reminded of the promise of the coming Christ when “the government shall be upon his shoulders…”[2] It doesn’t get any more political than that.

In the meantime, I’m back to posting photos of flowers and family. At least until the next early morning surprise.

 

 

 

 

 

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[1] Ecclesiastes 11:1 NRSVUE

[2] Isaiah 9:6 KJV

Just Give Him Time

My impatience revealed itself when I spoke with God this morning. I didn’t 

actually demand, but the intent behind my request was that He would do 

something yesterday, if not sooner. Without words, He reminded me of the 

baking process—and it is a process. If I am creating an end product of food to 

be eaten, it takes time--the correct amount of time. When the directions on the 

recipe indicate I need to bake it for 40-60 minutes, those aren’t code words for 

30 minutes. Anything less than the allotted time ends up half-baked and 

inedible, needing to be tossed away. So, too, with us humans. He 

creates perfection. That takes time—His, not mine. It gives new meaning to

the phrase “He’s not finished with me yet.”

On Time and the Giving of It

time: n. The inevitable progression into the future with the passing of present events into the past.

 

Time: a universal commodity given to every man, woman, and child living on the face of this earth. The amount of time allotted to each of us adds up to twenty-four hours in a day. Sixty minutes in an hour. Sixty seconds in a minute. No more. No less. It can be called true equity.

Time takes on a different “feel” at various stages of life. For a child, time often moves at a snail’s pace as it seems they spend their life waiting—for a holiday or special event. Parents can’t find enough of it to get everything done while meeting the demands of a family’s rigorous schedule. Those of us living as senior citizens find ourselves dealing with the reality of time passing like a flash in the night. Many elderly folks live in a paradox. They have nothing but time on their hands as they live their days in solitude and loneliness. All the while, they have very little of it left.

Whether consciously or unconsciously, we as humans categorize and prioritize our time. We schedule time for work, family, and leisure; we set aside time for events, activities, and vacation. And--God forbid if an interruption occurs—time for sleep. Most folk, however, never consider including another important category in their daily life. I call it “people” time.

When I give my time to another, I gift myself. I share “me.” No one else can do that but me. Gifts can be purchased and delivered, but the gift of time carries no price tag. While volunteer work has a time and place, I am speaking of something different here.

“I’m busy now. I don’t have time.” How often do those words so easily slip off the tongues of family members or perhaps one in a position of authority or a leadership role? Consider the message and the feeling it evokes: You have interrupted me and my life. You do not matter enough for me to stop what I’m doing. Go away.

We deliver that same message, though unspoken, as we plow through our daily lives, making certain we do not interact with people we aren’t acquainted with. After all, we have things to do, people to see, and places to go. We’ll never see these strangers again, so they don’t really matter. Or do they?

Recently, I took a trip to visit a friend. I’ve known her for decades, and we have been close friends for the past several years. Neither of us has a sister. The term sister/friend fits perfectly.

After she picked me up, we stopped by the grocery store to get a few things. While waiting in line to check out, she quietly commented, “Just a minute. This lady needs some help.” She saw what I hadn’t. An elderly lady, so tiny a slight breeze could blow her away, struggled bagging her groceries. She had an over-sized container of detergent, far too heavy and bulky for her to handle. My friend stepped in, placed the items in sacks, and told her she would help get the groceries into her car.

“This is the last time I’m going to do this,” the older woman commented. She shared she was in the process of moving into a facility where meals would be provided.

We finished checking out and headed to her car, loading the items in the back. The little lady chattered the whole time, talking about originally moving from Rhode Island and her current move. She was grateful and thrilled to be the recipient of the gift of time.

This action wasn’t unusual for my friend. She gives time where and when needed as she gives of herself. And she does it quietly, never seeking attention. It is just the kind of person she is--her second nature--without effort or pretense.

We spoke recently of being available when called upon. Her comment has stuck with me: “You just have to make time. Loving the broken is loving God.”

Though often unnoticed, therefore not acknowledged, the gift of time is a gift indeed. You’ll not hear a public service announcement with grand accolades. Bells and whistles won’t fill the air, nor will any balloons be released into the sky. The gift of time consists of the act of being present, lending an ear and providing companionship and help if needed--without fanfare.

Each of us is given a certain amount of time in life. Perhaps you have heard the charge to use your time wisely and make the most of it. The context of that admonition generally relates to an activity or a goal.

I give that same charge: Use your time wisely and make the most of it. I ask you, however, to consider the value and importance of giving time as a gift. Give and share yourself. The world would be a better place.

 

And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to

one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me."

Matthew 25:40