Jun

11

No longer just a calling

By Gwenn McKone | 4 Comments


What exactly is “a calling?” I believe it’s the thing that you know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that God has called you to do with your life. You may have known it for years, or at least had an inkling. Maybe you’ve even avoided it, afraid of failure. No matter how you respond to it, it continues to “call” you until you answer.

For many years, I knew I was gifted as a writer. Beginning in 4th grade, people were praising my prose. As I grew into an adult, I got my degree in journalism and was hired as a writer/editor into the corporate sector. In my spare time, I wrote a lot of things–children’s books, a screenplay, a young adult novel. But none of my “works” ever felt right, or came easy. And yet the call continued, as though I still hadn’t answered it.

We had two daughters, and I left my managing editor job when my second daughter became mobile. As the years went by, and I became further and further removed from the professional writing life, I began to call it “my hobby.” I wrote some here and there, and it was easier to call it my hobby because then if my personal writing never amounted to anything–if no one bought it or published it–then I wouldn’t be embarrassed or ashamed. A hobby is just that–something you do for yourself. But still, the call continued.

I don’t remember exactly when or how the idea of the book began to materialize. I do know that I felt completely inept. God was calling me to write about His personality and like Sarai, Abraham’s wife, I wanted to laugh. Surely He meant for a theologian to do so…a pastor, perhaps…more likely a highly publicized Bible study teacher…or someone who had at least a few theology classes under their belt. Nope, He insisted. I want you.

As I sat down and began to write the first chapter, I began to experience the thrill of my life. It wasn’t apparent at first. There I was, sitting in a semi-dark office, day after day, for two to three hours at a time, writing, researching, and conversing with Him. But as the first chapter drew to a close, and He suggested the topic for the next chapter, and then the next and the next, I realized that He was no longer calling. I was smack dab in the middle of what I was made to do. Joy began to bubble up, and as I would reread things I had written a week before, I would be astounded–not at my own writing ability, but at what He had revealed to me as I’d written, how He had coined a phrase and put it into my mind, how He had brought to mind the perfect scriptures, anecdotes and even other books that He had recently brought into my life that had text that was perfect to help illuminate a point.

It was no longer “a calling.” It was now a ministry, and I began to have the boldness to say so. The result of my answer to that call is my newly published book, God, Up Close and Personal: A glimpse into the heart and character of God. I hope you’ll take a look at the new website for the book, www.godupcloseandpersonal.com You’ll find reader reviews on the website so you can get an idea as to whether it would be something you would enjoy–or possibly an unchurched friend or family member. My prayer and my desire is that God would bring about an abundant harvest from this book.

I believe God is calling laborers into the harvest–real people to minister to real people. Don’t reject the call because you are afraid you’re not equipped. All you have to do is answer, and He will give you everything you need. And let me tell you, it will be the best time you ever had in your life, because it is what you were made for.

 

Jun

3

To Margaret

By Gwenn McKone | Comments Off


Margaret, I read your comments in regard to Julie Cosgrove’s “Destitute Prayers” blog entry. I hear the anger and bitterness in your heart. Your voice is one among thousands if not millions in this world who are screaming, “Why?” Why do women get raped? Why does violence go unchecked? Why is cancer claiming so many lives?

Carrie’s response to your comments was correct: we live in a fallen world. When God first introduced Adam and Eve to His brand new world, He gave them the choice to believe Him and His truth, obey and subsequently continue to live in a perfect world, or to disbelieve Him and disobey, and therefore invite sin and degeneration into His perfect world. We know the ending to that story.

However, we have been given a risen Christ. We are fallen, but He is risen. He has triumphed over sin and evil. What this means for us is that we can still choose to believe what He says in His word, obey and triumph with Him. One of the things that He has told us is that, as believers in Jesus Christ as our Savior, we can lay claim to His power. In essence, He’s given us a mighty weapon against evil, and we can either choose to use it or not. But it’s all about choices. Do we believe that He has risen and has triumphed? As believers in Christ, do we believe that we can wield that weapon?

In the Bible, the word of God is called the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:7). That’s because it’s powerful, more powerful than anything else on earth. But like any sword, it can do nothing if it is not taken into your hands and used against the enemy. If the enemy comes against you and you simply look at that sword sitting on the table, it will do nothing. How then, do you use the word of God like you would a sword? You must read it, and know it and its truth. Like a centurion who chooses his weapon well, and practices using it before going into battle, you must know your weapon well, practice with it and absolutely believe in its power. The centurion believes in the power of his sword; so must you. 

I recently heard a story about a woman who was accosted by a robber while she was changing clothes at a business. The man had a knife to her throat, and told her to remove her clothes. She commanded that he release her in the name of Jesus. The man staggered back and then fled. He was caught, went to trial and eventually to prison. In prison, he came to know Christ. Eventually, he told the story about the time he put the knife to the woman’s throat. Yet when she commanded him to release her in the name of Jesus, he confessed that his entire body went slack and he had no energy whatsoever. It was all he could do at that moment to flee.

There are many stories like this–stories where people have taken up their swords and been victorious against the enemy. And trust me–the enemy knows all too well the power of God’s word, and the only way he can be victorious is to keep you from using it.

While I don’t have all the answers to all the pain and tragedy in this world, this much I know–that all too often, the sword of the Spirit is left on the table and never taken up into someone’s hands.

So when we are looking up at God and screaming, “Why?”, He is looking down at us and asking, “Why? Why, when I’ve equipped you to come against the enemy and be victorious, do you face him empty-handed?”

Margaret, I hope this helps. And I hope you get that sword off the table, and stand up and fight.

Feb

19

The One True Hand Holder

By Gwenn McKone | 2 Comments


I’ve talked in former posts about the vacation home we bought in Sandpoint, Idaho. We bought it last July to make it into a vacation rental. Sandpoint is a six-hour drive from our home, so it’s not exactly convenient. It’s a log home, and the culmination of a long-held dream of mine.

We bought it from a bachelor who had two basset hounds who piddled on the carpet, and who had free rein to go in and out all day long–and not through a doggie door. This man left the two French doors wide open all day long while at work, so not only were the dogs at liberty to go in and out of the house, but so were the bugs. And since the property is on 8 acres in very heavily wooded wild country, I was surprised that he didn’t fear other varmints coming in as well.

This beautiful yet neglected log home was screaming for a woman to get hold of it. I had a vision for how it could look. So in late July, I began to undertake the project alone. I had to furnish the 3 bedroom, 2.5 bath house from the ground up, replace the carpet, orchestrate the remodeling of one of the bathrooms, and become a handy woman extraordinaire. Little did I know that in the process, God was going to do a work in me.

You see, two years ago, when I turned 50, I might as well have hit a brick wall at 90 mph. I was NOT READY to hit 50, no way. It took me nearly a year to adjust to the concept. And I went to God and said, please, I want to be like a race horse breaking out of the starting gates at 50, not one just being put out to pasture. This may sound like so much drama to someone who’s 60 or 70, but we’ve all got our stuff, know what I mean?

The beauty of God is that He takes such prayers seriously. He knew I needed to feel vital and strong and capable. So He gave me this project and as time went on, He ensured that I did it all by myself. There were a few times when my best friend planned to drive from Utah to help me, but always, something huge happened that kept her from coming up. And she kept saying to me, “Apparently you’re supposed to do this by yourself.”

So I gathered furniture from Craig’s list and nearby antique stores, put it into a U-Haul trailer and drove it over, just my faithful dog and me. I made 4 trips with a trailer on the back of my Tahoe. And when I would arrive, either God would place someone there to help me unload the big stuff, or I would somehow manage to figure out how to do it myself. One time, I had hired two young men to come and deliver wood for the wood stove, and so they helped me to carry a large armoire into the house. Another time, my real estate agent’s son came and helped me.

When I began to paint, I had to buy a 10-foot ladder, because the ceiling in the main part of the house is 12 feet high. At one point, the only way that I could get up to do the trim on the ceiling above the kitchen counter and bar was to literally place the 6-foot ladder on the counter in a closed position, lean it against the wall, and climb carefully up, praying the entire time that God would keep me from falling.

My husband has never returned to the cabin since he saw it for the first time in July. Although that bothered me for several months, I was also happy to have the absolute freedom to do with the cabin whatever I wished. 

Last Tuesday night, I returned from a week at what I have named ”Little Moose Cabin,” after the two baby moose and their mother who sauntered across our property several months ago. It was my final push to get everything done and ready for vacation renters. It was a very intense week of doing things like putting up a hanging light on that lovely 12-foot ceiling, installing closet doors and curtains on the French doors, cleaning the interior logs of the 1/4 inch of dust on them, etc.

The two women who will be managing the property and rentals arrived at the cabin a few days after I’d gotten there. They already manage another small cabin we have two hours from our home (this cabin came completely furnished), and live in the Seattle area, like I do. They had agreed to try to manage the cabin long distance and had driven all the way over to Sandpoint to see ”Little Moose,” to take pictures, and to gather information about the area. I was excited to have them there, because I wanted to ask them some questions, to pick their brains, and to just compare notes and have fellowship. They were going to be there for 3 days, and I had expected at least an entire day of talking, sharing, etc.

They came, oohed and aahed over the cabin and its decor, took scads of pictures for the website, and left an hour and a half later. I assumed I’d see them the next day, but they were too busy getting to know the area and gathering information. I was deflated, resentful and felt very let down. I realized I’d wanted them to “hold my hand” for a while.

I called my best friend and told her that apparently no one was going to hold my hand through the process–not even my management ladies. She said, “Gwenn, God is holding your hand.” I thought back on it, and realized it was true.

He had orchestrated that my neighbor on the property next to us is a skilled contractor and he has done wonderful work in the cabin that I would not have been able to do. This same neighbor is well-known in that small town, and brought me a wonderful electrician who has also done great work–and is even going to give me a pair of moose antlers for the cabin!

God took great care of me on my trips back and forth to Sandpoint. On one trip, I was driving back to the cabin from Home Depot when this huge clanging noise occurred in my wheel. I was leaving the next day and was annoyed that such a thing would happen. I got it into a mechanic who said my emergency brake had completely fallen apart and was banging around inside the wheel well. It then occurred to me that God had made sure it happened while in Sandpoint, and NOT while driving through the miles and miles of desolate country on the way home.

God showed me through these last seven months that with Him behind me and beside me, I can accomplish much more than I ever thought, and that 50 is just a number. He has renewed my youth like the eagle, and given me new mountains to climb. He has given me a beautiful log cabin that I hope will bless others as they come to stay. He has never left me, and He has stretched me and challenged me and given me renewed confidence in myself. Praise Him. 

‘Do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,

Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ Isaiah 41:10

 

Jan

28

Because I loved you

By Gwenn McKone | 3 Comments


I spent an hour in our car this afternoon having a very loud and emotional discussion (fight) with my 15-year-old daughter just sitting in our driveway. Such discussions are all too common between us these days. She was telling me that she’s tired of getting in trouble every single day, and that she’s really a good kid. I was telling her that I’m tired of her talking to me disrespectfully.

When I step back and look at her as a whole, she really is a good kid. She gets great grades, is very involved in our church high school program, and has a good head on her shoulders. She has good moral fiber, is very honest, and hates when her friends get involved with yucky guys.

So what’s my beef, then? Why aren’t I on my knees thanking God for this good kid? I often do. But just as often, I ask for wisdom and strength in dealing with her. She’s very intense and very in-your-face. She’s got attitude with a capital “A”. She often talks at me and not to me–loudly. If she’s passionate about something, or angry about something, and I disagree, I’m suddenly in the firing line. And of course, this usually happens in the car, when there’s no possibility of escape. For her, it’s an advantage–there I am, completely at her disposal. And, no matter how I react, it’s usually wrong in her eyes.

Last night, I was driving her home from her softball practice. She was fit to be tied about some of the things that are happening with her team. She began to vent, and I settled in, mentally preparing myself. The two of us stopped for a quick dinner, because she was going straight to Tuesday night church. She continued to vent. We got back in the car, and she continued to vent. Nearly an hour later, I finally said, “OK, I’ve given you almost an hour to vent. Enough. Let’s talk about something else.” She retorted, “Fine, then, I just won’t talk to you at all from now on.”  (Only seconds before, I had been congratulating myself on being patient enough to listen to her for that long.)

I now understand why God commanded us to “honor our father and mother.” He was trying to give parents a leg up. He knew that it was the toughest job on earth. He even threw in an incentive–the only incentive in all of the ten commandments–”that your days may be long on this earth.” He knows that rearing God-fearing kids is thankless, frustrating and exhausting. It’s the only occupation on earth where you can try your best, and somehow, end up at your worst. I do that a lot. I’ll walk away from a discussion (fight) with my daughter and think, “How the heck did she manage to pull that ugly, black, stinky, slimy stuff out of me? Why can’t I just have some SELF CONTROL!!”

As parents, we all need grace upon grace. And forgiveness. Heaps of forgiveness, especially from ourselves, to ourselves. And we need to remember that this, too, shall pass. All too quickly.

I was talking to my best friend a few months ago about this same topic. We’ve been best friends since the 10th grade–the exact same age that my daughter is now. I said, “I know I’ve always had a really strong personality, but I was never this challenging.”

“Yeah, actually, you were,” she said.

“No way,” I countered. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, you were really cocky.”

I was quiet a few moments considering such a thought. “Why did you put up with me, then?”

“Because I loved you,” she answered quietly.

Those four words knocked me into the back seat. Because I loved you.

“Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8)

In this verse, the word “covers” is “kalupto” in Greek, and it means “to wrap around, as bark, skin, shell or plaster; to cover up.” My friend’s love wrapped around my sins, and covered them up. I love the fact that love doesn’t just cover, it “wraps around.” Like arms…of a mother around her daughter.

Jesus’ love for us does the same, it wraps around us. Surely I can do the same for my daughter, who is…a lot like me.

Jan

15

When God Gets in Your Stuff

By Gwenn McKone | 4 Comments


About a month ago, I joined Facebook, and I’m still not sure why. I had managed to avoid the trend, even though I’ve received several invitations to become someone’s friend on Facebook for the past year or so. Little did I know when I finally gave in to Facebook that I would be opening Pandora’s box.

Suddenly I was contacted by old childhood schoolmates, some of whom I barely remember, and others that don’t even ring a bell at all. (Their married names didn’t help much, either.) Then, a few weeks ago, a name popped onto my screen that I’d hoped never to see again. She asked to be my friend, and I wondered why.

She was one of the mean kids when I was growing up, and I was the goody two-shoes. I took a lot of flak when I was a kid, because my mom sewed really nice clothes for me, and I always looked pretty cute and I rarely if ever got into trouble. I was as annoying to the mean kids as the mean kids were annoying to me.

I remember one specific incidence with this mean kid. It was a scene that is emblazoned in my mind. We were about 11 or 12 years old, and I had walked to town with her and her friend, thinking I was finally accepted by the “in crowd.” As I recall, we had an OK time, and the two girls walked me home. After I turned to walk into my yard, the two girls turned, and screamed in perfect unison, “Good riddance!” Then they shared a laugh, and walked away. I was crushed.

I have told this story to many people over the years, so it clearly had a major impact on me. When this girl’s name popped up on Facebook, I thought, wow, a memory I’ve managed to keep mostly buried rears its ugly head. Funny how I’m still dragging that around with me more than 35 years later.

I tried three times to write a fairly benign response to this woman on Facebook, without sounding peevish, especially since it’s so public. I finally settled with something like this: “Wow, __________, I never expected to hear from you again. You and I weren’t exactly the best of friends. Are you nice now?” I knew it wasn’t the most gracious response, but I simply couldn’ t lie and act like I was thrilled to hear from her.

It was several days later before she responded to me. She had Googled my name and asked me if I was the same person who blogged on this site. Oh man, I thought. Now she knows I’m a Christian, and I didn’t exactly post the most Christ-like response on her Facebook wall. I knew I had to come clean.

I sent her a message and told her my feelings, and that I had been carrying stuff around in my heart about her for years. I told her that I forgave her, (funny–I’d never thought to forgive her before) and asked her if there was anything she needed to forgive me for. Several more days passed, and I figured that was the end of our communication. Then came the most beautiful note I’ve received in a long time, a note filled with regret and apologies and an owning up to being the mean kid…and even some reasons why she had been like that.

It was like living water pouring into my soul. As another message or two flew back and forth between us, we realized that we are sisters in Christ. Oh, what grace! What amazing grace that God would cross our paths again all these years later so that there could be forgiveness and repentance and healing.

After I received that beautiful note from her, it occurred to me how wonderful it is that God gets in “our stuff.” Only God knew that I had buried that hurt deep in my heart, and that it needed to be extracted and dealt with and healed. I even felt a little sheepish still holding onto it–we were kids then, for crying out loud. But God doesn’t want us carrying around extra baggage. He wants us to be free.

I love Him for that. I love Him for what a personal God He is. 

Blessings,

 Gwenn

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