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COFFEE DISCOURAGEMENT Hello New Year, I came to you full of hope and splendid intentions. My vision of our relationship was filled with expectations. But villainous cold germs met me at your doorstep. They invaded my being and spread their misery. My vision and my intentions became shrouded with tiredness, my hope dulled by wistfulness. How easily I became mired in discouragement. I must have been all of three when I first encountered major discouragement. We lived on a farm in northern Indiana, and I remember deciding to go look for my dad, who was out with the team working in one of our fields. If I found him, he'd set me on the back of old Frank (our old, gentle plow horse) and let me ride awhile. It must have been spring because the lane was muddy and you had to be careful where you walked, also there had been some talk about the ground hog and whether he would see his shadow when he came out of his hole. I carefully made my way down the lane to a field where dad had been the other day. The fence row along that part of the lane was grown up with weeds and brush. The growth was considerably above this three year old's head and I was having trouble finding a hole in the brush so I could check out the field. There had to be an opening someplace. Suddenly there was a rustling noise and movement in the brush. Thinking for sure that this was Mr. Ground Hog coming out of his hole, I took off running as fast as possible up the lane, taking no time or care to avoid the mud. The clay in that lane must have been pure gumbo. My feet got stickier and heavier with every step until they couldn't move any more. I was stuck. The more I tried to pull a foot out, the more mired in the mud it became. With both feet unmovable there seemed nothing left to do but start calling for my mother. The more I yelled the more unhappy I became. The yells turned to sobs. No one would hear me. No one was coming. I was all alone - sad, scared, and sobbing almost in silence. And then far off, a long drawn out, "Gene…", I heard my mother's voice reaching out for me. Oh, such relief. She had heard me after all. I can still hear her haunting call of my name and see her face as it first crested over the hill. I was a little embarrassed about my predicament and couldn't think of anything to say but to exclaim, "I see'd a hog!" She came to me oozing with love, chattering assurances, as she bent over to dig me out of the mud. She picked me up in her arms, cooing motherly love things, and carried me all the way back to the house. I'm older now and mother has gone to be with the Lord. But I still manage to get stuck in the mire of life. Sometimes it's from being in a hurry and not being careful; other times it's in the clutter of too much stuff in my life. But generally I find myself getting stuck in the mire of too many subjective aspirations: spinning my wheels in the midst of those "need to do" things that have stemmed from personal wants or fears. Remember the Apostle Peter, when with his eyes and heart focused on Jesus, he walked on the water? And then, when he saw the wind he became afraid and began to sink. Perhaps I should learn from that incident in Peter's life: stay focused on the Lord. My more down to earth friends might say, "Come on, Gene, just keep your feet out of the mud." Well, all my life I have tried to avoid discouragement. I have found it a tough kind of "gumbo" to work my way out of. The circumstance of discouragement can dissipate, but the cloud of frustration lingers as you lament over the time and momentum lost. If you're not careful the whole process can lead to a case of depression. Perhaps I could also learn from the man, Moses. We've been studying his life in my Sunday school class at church recently. Moses, probably more than any man who ever lived, learned to stay focused during frustration, fear and disappointments. When he came down from mount Sinai with those tablets of stone and saw the people, whom he had led from Egypt, worshipping the golden calf, his frustration surely reached its apex. Even with disappointment and rage boiling up within him, he stayed focused. His anger was just. He took command and carried out the wishes of the Lord, his God, against those Israelites still in rebellion. Then he went back up the mountain and lay prostrate for forty days and nights without food or water, hoping to make atonement for the people of Israel, and waiting for God to speak to him. I'm trying to remember the last time I spent even two hours on my knees waiting for God to move in my heart. Too many times it's, "Hello God, I'm here. We can talk now", and in a few minutes I'm on my way again. Yes, I could learn from Peter and Moses. This year, I set out to get myself physically, mentally and spiritually in better shape - to be a stronger person in these areas. However, this month I've encountered some discouragement, even sluffed off a mite as viruses clouded my focus and attacked my household. But now I have a renewed determination to stay focused to the task, regardless of circumstance. Furthermore, it seems unwise to me that I should "truck along" on my own strength. I surely will need to spend more time on my knees. GS 1/21/02 If you would like to drop a note to offer feedback or ask questions, you can contact him at Gene Shrout |
