Monday, March 29, 2010

The Tale of Two Doggies




I have two dogs.

Oh, are they ever so very different. I would like to tell you about them if you would be so inclined as to give ear to listen. The first dog I will tell you about is our border collie, Asher. The second will be our beagle, Steven.

THE TALE OF THE SUBMISSIVE BORDER COLLIE

Once upon a time, there was a woman who raised sheep. She didn't much like her sheep because they wouldn't go where she desired them to go. Her shepherding style resembled Little Bo Peep more than Mary with her little lamb. She decided that she would like a shepherding dog to help her round up her sheep and direct them where she wanted them to go.

She found a wee male puppy that was black all over with white paws and a white muzzle. He was a border collie, and border collies are very well known to have natural sheep-herding abilities. With almost no training, this puppy decided to be housebroken and to follow his master wherever she went. Wandering away was out of the question. He was loyal, obedient, and very smart. His favorite place to be was right by his master's side, learning the ways of handling the animals.

This puppy was named 'Asher'. Asher is a Hebrew name that means 'to lead to prosperity' because that is what the woman wanted for her sheep, and she wanted the dog to help her. Some name books will tell you it means 'happy', and this is also true. This was the happiest dog you could ever meet. When strangers came to visit, Asher would stand on his rear legs and wrap his arms around them. He would squeeze and give loving hugs. He loved everybody! There was never anything more important in his life than serving his master and loving others and learning new things. What a good dog!

THE RECALCITRANT BEAGLE

Once upon a time, there was a beagle running down a freeway. She was full of puppies and had no collar. A woman saw her and took pity on her. She cared for the momma dog until she gave birth. She had five puppies and promptly abandoned them. She disappeared without a trace. The woman was then left to care for all five puppies; giving them milk and puppy mash and teaching them all how to potty outside.

One little puppy stayed with the woman while all others had other fates. He was white with brown spots and was named Steven. Steven was very, very smart and he knew it. Any fence that was ever set up, he could climb out of. He even learned to scale a six foot chain link fence. Any weak spot of any property was quickly discovered and used. No walls could contain this dog. He could twist and wriggle his body to fit through any hole, seemingly irrelevant of size. He did as he pleased and answered to no one unless it suited him. He didn't exactly hate strangers, but he would bark and snarl and let them know that his little body was there and he wouldn't suffer any guff from them.

Oh, he would act submissive...but he wasn't. He would cringe and crawl and creep; rolling over to show his belly with his little body trembling...but he was really rebelling on the inside. He was often referred to as 'slinker and stinker...the smeagol beagle' in reference to Lord of the Rings. Uncannily, he actually also had a perpetual stink. If you were to give him a bath in the most gorgeous, fragrant oils, he would smell like the oils...and nasty dog funk.

He would at random attack the submissive border collie (see above tale) and pummel him into the dirt. Asher would yelp and cry and Steven would growl and snap. He was a true prodigal; wandering off at will, returning only for comfort and food, and abusing whoever he felt he could control.

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Why do I tell these tales? Well, because I'm certain you're getting a picture of two kinds of people. There are the people who are 'sold out to Jesus' the way that Asher is sold out to me. Then there are people who put on a show of it and act like rebellious pagans when it suits them. Often, I reflect on these two heart attitudes when I feel a distance from God. I know that when I'm unkind to someone, that's the 'Steven' in me and when acting with the grace of God, I know it's the 'Asher' in me.

"God's power has given us everything we need for life and godliness, through our knowing the One who called us to his own glory and goodness. By these he has given us valuable and superlatively great promises, so that through them you might come to share in God's nature and escape the corruption which evil desires have brought into the world."- 2 Peter 1:3-4

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Bits, Bullies, and Bleeding Backsides




"Don't let love be a mere outward show...love one another devotedly and with brotherly love; and set examples for each other in showing respect." -Romans 12:9&10.

Recently, we acquired a third horse. To recap, we purchased an unbroken mare with a miniature horse buddy about a month ago. The unbroken mare has been coming along so beautifully in her training, that we were eager to have another full sized horse so that Daniel and I could ride together. As it has been, Daniel's been riding the 'unbroken' mare every day with no bit and bridle and has successfully gotten her to obey his commands.

Our newest horse is another mare that is white and fully broken. She's very sweet, but timid. Herein lies the problem. Our mare that we had previously has lashed out at her with a vengeance. She is deeply preoccupied with being the 'head mare' of the barn and denies access to it for the white mare. Feeding time has become a nightmare. The very first day here, the poor darling sustained a terrible kick to her rear end resulting in a cut in a very delicate place. This cut is still healing.

Today, God spoke to me about this issue and said it's a problem in the church. He said that there are many who have submitted to Him because He is holy and trustworthy and is the only one who can sort out the mess of their life. However, these same people can still retain a bitterness and a biting venom toward other people. We, brothers and sisters, are deeply imperfect. We hurt each other; often when we don't mean to. We can either be preoccupied with 'staying on top' of others or we can submit to not only God, but each other. My mare accepted me as master because I'm good to her, but she will not yield to a fellow horse.

Paul goes on to say in Romans,"Be sensitive to each other's needs--don't think yourselves better than others, but make humble people your friends. Don't be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but try to do what everyone regards as good. If possible, and to the extent that it depends on you, live in peace with all people. Never seek revenge, my friends; instead, leave that to God's anger."

My white mare is indeed 'turning the other cheek'. As many times as the previous one bites her and chases her, she simply moves along and minds her own business. How often are we the catty and immature one picking fights? And how often are we the submissive and docile one that keeps their nose clean?

Today, I hit a breaking point; as one day the Lord will stop tolerating the evil that we endure at the hands of malicious or just immature people. I took the unbroken mare's buddy from the pen so she lost her sense of security. I put the miniature in with my sheep and goats and then stood back to watch. Her malice grew toward the white horse, so I had to step in further. I put her in a stall (which I never do) and I began to groom and pet and treat the white horse in front of her. She pawed the ground angrily and lept at the dividing gate. I just calmly doted on the white horse and let her jealous foe watch. Then, I led the white one to the dividing wall so they could stand nose to nose. I held her there and forced them to 'hash it out' in an environment that no one could get hurt. Each of them sniffed and moved their muzzles up and down each other's necks. Often, one of them would open their mouths to bite, so the other would whinny and kick. They, therefore, set the proper boundaries with each other and are safe to be left alone with each other now. Beautiful success! God is indeed teaching me much about people through animals.

I exhort you, dear friend, to prefer others above yourself. Instead of chasing someone out into the rain and mud, stand aside and give them your portion. Instead of taking offense at someone else's insult to you (whether intentional or not), be the grownup one and 'show the example of respect' by overlooking the offense. By the strength we receive by being sons and daughters of the Most High, we can do this. God will step in and level the playing field because He is just. If you suffer any persecution, you have an ally and His name is Christ. Stand with Christ and stand blameless in front of a Holy God. To honor God, we must honor each other. We receive power through praise to submit to the Lord's will toward each other. Oh, and without coincidence, the white horse's name is Praise.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The Origin of These Words

















I'm a nerd. I love studying word origins. Here is the origin of the word 'provision': "goes back to Latin 'videre' which is the English word 'vision' meaning 'to see'. Its Latin ancestor 'providere, formed with the prefix 'pro' meaning 'before' hence meaning to 'forsee'-a sense which survived into English: 'evident and sufficient signs, whereby may be provided and foreseen the aborcement before it comes'. In Latin it had moved on to 'exercise foresight by making preparations', and this formed the basis of the later 'supply'. Other English descendants of 'providere' include 'improvise', 'prudent', 'purvey', and 'vision'.

Why in the world did I run you through all that Latin mumbo jumbo? I don't know. I'd be surprised if you had the patience to actually sit through that dissertation.

This means a lot to me because we named our farm 'Provision Farm'. When we first acquired our goats and chickens, I felt we needed to name our place. I've seen some horrific farm names like 'Empty Pockets Farm' and 'Broke Back Farm'. Would you want to live and work there? I surely wouldn't! I want to live and work at a farm in which I know the fruit of my labors is blessed. God thusly gave me the name 'Provision Farm'.

Do you know what the origin of the word 'farm' is? Don't worry, I won't copy out another section of my studies for you. I'll give you the skinny, okay? The word 'farm' literally means 'to pay'; a lot like paying rent. So, the way I think of it, I'm a lot like a landlord and I provide a home for my animals, so they pay me rent (often with their lives! heehee). Okay, seriously, there's many references in Scripture of Jesus being the Good Shepherd, and I don't think it's just because he was speaking to an agrarian culture. I think it's because we are all called to be a shepherd in some way shape or form. All of us have something in this earth that we are subduing (hopefully for the glory of God, which would indeed make us a good shepherd).

Also, God is like a landlord, and I pay him rent for the care that He gives me. I'm not talking about tithe right now; I'm talking about honor. The same as my animals pay rent to me with their lives, I pay rent to God with my life. I'm called to be a living sacrifice for Him. The rent I pay is to be fruitful for Him. He has warned that those who are not fruitful branches in their life will be cut off. I do the same at my farm. The technical term for it is called 'culling'. Those animals that do not bear sufficient 'fruit' with whatever traits they were bred to produce are usually butchered. They provide for us in some way, always. God sometimes makes our 'getting culled/pruned' an example to others so that they will take heed to be more fruitful with their lives.

So, to sum up the name of our farm: We look forward to what God is doing, and we owe Him our life. He is good and faithful to tend us well. We, in turn, are called to be faithful;to be a good and pleasing sacrifice to our Good Shepherd.

Thank you, dear Lord, for the gift of Vision.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Praise in a Barren Land



"For even if the fig tree doesn't blossom, and no fruit is on the vines, even if the the olive tree fails to produce, and the fields yield no food at all, even if the sheep vanish from the sheep pen, and there are no cows in the stalls; still, I will rejoice in Adonai, I will take joy in the God of my salvation. Elohim Adonai is my strength! He makes me swift and sure-footed as a deer and enables me to stride over my high places." -Habakkuk 3:17-19

I must admit, I'm no Habakkuk. When things are not as fruitful as I desire here on my farm, I fret. I begin to think that maybe I'm doing something wrong; or maybe God is punishing me for something. Do you know what? That could very well be the case. Guess what else? It's good and praise worthy even if I am doing something wrong, or being disobedient to God. Why? Because if I'm doing something wrong, the natural consequences are allowing me to learn something useful so that I don't repeat my mistakes and I can become wise. If I'm being disciplined because of disobedience, that's also good, because it means that God hasn't let me go and that He wants me to walk rightly. The Lord disciplines those He loves, and I know that He loves me!

Years ago, I learned a principle called 'consecration'. The literal meaning from the dictionary is 'to dedicate'. If I've dedicated the works of my hands, and indeed, my whole farm to God, then I'm not responsible for what He chooses to do with it. Okay, so I didn't really learn consecration years ago, I just kind of understood the concept! I wasn't ready to fully put it into practice.

About a year ago, I read the story of Harold Hill (christian engineer) and his daughter. His daughter was facing a divorce and decided to deal with it by trying to kill herself. She was rushed to the emergency room with a belly full of pills. They pumped her stomach, but the doctors said that she was already too poisoned and it was too late. She would probably not make it more than a few hours. What was Harold and his wife to do? Pray. They said,"Lord, heal our daughter." The Lord replied with,"Your daughter? Did you make her? If it's your daughter you want healed, prepare for a funeral. If it's my daughter you want healed, prepare for a miracle." Harold and his wife adjusted their hearts and stopped praying amiss after that, and they indeed prayed," Lord, heal your daughter. We've messed her up real good. Only you can fix her." Indeed, God came through to reward them for a dear lesson learned. It was the same lesson Abraham learned in accordance with his son, Isaac. That which is the Lord's will be dealt with according to His will. That which we keep trying to steal from the Father's hands, will become messed up by our inadequacy.

"Ownership binds you. Stewardship frees you." -Harold Hill

This past summer, my very valuable boer goat buck became ill. He was lethargic and weak. I did everything I could in my power and then stopped. I knew by experience that the more I relied on my own 'know how' the more I failed. I set aside all my medicines, then I stretched out my hand toward the ailing goat and began praying in tongues. "Father," I said,"Thank you for seeing me fit to care for your creatures. This isn't my goat. He's your goat under my care. We are both under your care. Heal your goat and don't let him suffer." I walked away and left him. The next day, I came out to find him on his feet as if nothing had happened. I continue to employ this prayer and principle whenever I'm encountered with a 'crisis'.

You are not forgotten. You are not left alone. God sees all that you do in a given day and is waiting for you to adjust your heart. Consecrate the things you call 'your own' and step down from the throne. Be a humble steward and the True King will reward you for your faithfulness. Trust Him. He can do a better job than you any day. I'm not picking on you, either. I also have had to do this in my life. I failed and failed and failed and lost many things dear to me because I labored for things that I thought were mine to labor for. No, they are His. Same as all else, I am His, too, and He longs for me to consecrate even myself.

This is a daily project! Go and be at peace! If all things in your life appear fruitless, rejoice anyway! Your life is God's and you are not alone.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Unpackaged Deal




I know it's wrong to have 'pet peeves', but there's something that both my husband and I have a hard time not getting really irritated at: generalization of living things (especially people). I truly don't like it when people use words like 'always' or 'never' to describe things. There's way too many variables in living creatures to categorize them. Not everything can be manufactured in China for cents on the dollar and packaged in identical boxes.

For example, when I'm looking to buy livestock, one of the first questions on an animal is what the breed is. For a dog, the options are Labrador, terrier, great dane, beagle, etc. For a goat, the options are alpine, nubian, saanen, lamancha, etc....you get the idea. Animals are bred for certain characteristics. A terrier was bred for hundreds of years for pest control of rats and such. A Lamancha goat was was developed within caprine circles that had no ears, so they got a dairy goat with no ears. People put this animal in a metaphorical box and labeled it with certain characteristics. When asking someone about a certain breed of animal, it's much like reading the nutritional information on the side of a cereal box....and only occasionally is it accurate. I'll give you examples here:

1) I have a nubian goat. People say nubians produce a lot of cream in their milk, but yield less milk than other goat breeds. In the case of my nubian, this is false. She produces just as much if not more than the others.

2) I have a miniature horse for the kids to ride. I was told miniatures need their hooves trimmed only once a year. Her hooves grow faster than the grass she eats!

3) I raise Katahdin sheep. I've been told that katahdins are very docile and easy to handle. My sheep flee from me as if I were chasing them with a bloody dagger. I won't even mention how my ram rolls his eyes and snorts like a bull (oops, I mentioned it).

4) I have a border collie for a dog. People warned me that border collies are very high energy and constantly need something to do or they become destructive. I guarantee you, his favorite hobby is sleeping.

I'll stop now, but the list could easily go on. It's actually a topic close to our hearts, because our marriage was almost doomed due to 'categorization' and 'generalization' of humans. When my husband and I got engaged, he was seeing a 'Christian' counselor. This counselor told him to break off the engagement(even though we believed God told us to get married) because people who got married in our age group had a 98% divorce rate. My husband was devastated and spent years questioning whether or not he should invest in a marriage that was likely doomed. I remember the first thing I said to him when he tried to break off the engagement: "For there to be a 98%, there's got to be a 2%!" At the time, this did little to encourage him, but it got me through some rough and lonely times.

I'm proud to say we ARE in that 2%!!!! Victory is not found in statistics and psychological research. Victory is found in thinking 'outside of the box'. Jesus came to earth and rescued the most unlikely of people from their distress and made them into disciples of Himself. An old pastor of mine said,"God seems to like using the B Team." New trends can always be set! The psalmist, David, said,"I sing to you a new song." Why do you think that is? It's because God is always doing something new! There's no such thing as ruts in the Kingdom of God. If David were to keep singing the same old songs, he'd be left behind. As it were, he understood God and kept pace with him in his praises.

If someone tries to treat you like you are a certain way and you're destined to stay that way, rebuke that curse! God made us mostly of water, and I think that's because we're supposed to remain fluid!

So, today I'm going to milk my 'unusual' goat, trim my 'unusual' horse's hooves, feed my 'unusual' sheep, and pet my 'unusual' dog. God is good!

Monday, March 8, 2010

The Gift That Keeps On Giving




My son, Elisha, is six years old. He just turned six about a month ago. Most six year old boys probably want a toy robot or truck. My son wanted a calf. You'd think the darling boy would be content with the 20 chickens and 30 odd sheep and goats. No, somehow he has an affinity to chattel. Personally, I don't like cows. They're large, stupid, clumsy and high maintenance. If you need to contain it somehow, you cannot use muscle strength alone to wrestle it down. Ah, chattel.

I spent months alerting family members of his desires so that they didn't spend their money on toys. I also spent those months posting and reposting on craigslist and calling all cattle and dairy people I knew to get a pulse on when some calves might be available.

Finally, I had two connections lined up in case one fell through. One was with an organic jersey dairy about a 2 hour drive from here. The other was with a jersey dairy much more local--maybe 30 minutes. The first calf born was the more local one. When my husband took Elisha to go pick up his calf, they actually gave us two. When the boys got home, I figured out why. One of the calves looked healthy enough, but the other was weak and had terrible diarrhea. I sighed and made up the bottles and decided to try to take care of it. By morning, it couldn't stand. By evening, Daniel had to euthanize it. I warned him to check calves over before bringing them home in the future. There's no such thing as free for no reason in the livestock world.

The second calf was born and ready less than a week later. The boys headed out and made a day of picking up the calf from the organic dairy. He was lively and readily took the bottle. However, a problem developed. The calves weighed about 70 lbs. and Elisha weighed about 60 lbs. Every time the calves took the bottle, they overpowered Elisha. He couldn't manage them, so I had to hold a bottle on each hip (because each bottle held over half a gallon of milk) and let the calves nurse from them. This was exhausting as the calves would bump the bottles and fight each other off and lose the nipples ( I told you they were dumb ) and then start bumping ME all over.

Twice a day now, I was making up over a gallon of formula at a time and feeding the calves. After a week of this, I came out one morning and saw that these calves, too now, were ill. They had a soft cough, runny noses, and no appetite along with the diarrhea. I looked it up online and immediately recognized the symptoms of shipping fever. Shipping fever is a sickness extremely common among bottle baby calves that are moved at a young age. It's simply an outworking of the suppressed immune system from the stress of being moved. In the end, it's a form of pneumonia and calves typically die of asphyxiation when they get it. Immediately, I ran to Tractor Supply and got sulfamethazine boluses (pills) to give them along with some vitamins in drench form. Now, I was administering medicine, trying to coax them to eat, giving them vitamins, and checking on their progress 5 times a day.

Some birthday present! Happy birthday, Elisha!

It'd be easy for me to get a bad attitude about this. If my son were like other boys, he'd get his toy robot and the most work I'd have to do is tell him to not leave it on the floor. Now, I was working from first thing in the morning til 9 at night upkeeping his calves.

I have recently come to realize that this is a unique opportunity for me to show my son how much I love and support him. He's not likely to forget this. If he had gotten his toy robot, likely it wouldn't have lasted more than a few months without being broken and thrown away. I am now providing him something much better---a gift that gives over and over. The gift that I'm giving him isn't his calves; the gift I'm giving him is me.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave His only Son, and whoever believes in Him will not die, but live forever." -John 3:16

This is the most quoted verse in the Bible, but it's also the most powerful. God gave himself to us, because that's the greatest gift He could have ever given. He could have just let us putz around on earth and play til we died, but we would never have been intimates with Him or experienced His love.

I'm glad that God has made this experience with the calves difficult. I'm glad that he allowed Elisha to like something that I don't. I'm glad because if it were easy, it wouldn't be a memorable expression of love. Truly meaningful love costs something. My son knows that my love is not a one time thing, but that it's a sacrificial and forebearing love that has an outworking from first thing in the morning until last thing at night.

May God be praised!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Bumping the Bag



I have to be honest, I've been dreading this post. Weeks ago, I felt like I was inspired to write about this topic, but I put it off.

When a goat gets milked (whether by hand or by the mouth of her suckling kid), much luscious milk is enjoyed in plenteousness for most of the milking process. However, as she gets emptied, there is something that must be done to induce the flow of the last of the milk in the udder....bumping the bag. When a human is bumping the bag, you just lightly bump the bottom of the udder with your fist on either side and continue milking. Usually, you have to do this a few times before she's empty enough to quit milking. When her kids do this, it's much more violent. These tiny, hungry mouths with sharp teeth pound her poor udder as a hammer hitting a nail. Over and over, this selfish pounding occurs as the mother endures as much as she can. After a time, she often tries to run off and has to fight for her freedom over and over as her kids keep rushing at her. I've often seen the babies bump so hard that they lift the rear end of their mother off the ground.

One of my does recently gave birth to triplets. Normally, this would be a joyous celebration of fruitfulness, but there's a problem....a goat has two teats, not three. Her kids have been literally brutalizing her udder. Every evening, I separate her kids from her so that I can milk her in the morning. Every morning, I sit down to milk her and have to do so very gingerly because her teats are scabbed over and bloody. Even my gentle touch reopens these wounds every day. Her kids are indifferent to the pain they cause her because they are only thinking of themselves.

My children are yet very young, and I've often felt as if they are 'bumping my bag' all day. It's hard to get a moment's peace because I keep hearing,"mom", "mom", "mom"....all day. I'm not complaining, because I know this is temporary. Also, it's great to know that they regard me so highly as to want to share every little thing with me. However, I have days in which I feel like my soul is in the same condition as my goat's udder--scabbed, bloody, worn out and empty.

God also is in on this thing. He wants to empty me of what I'm storing. Whatever goodness I've made, He wants to extract it because it's my responsibility to 'feed' others. When I think I have no more to give, he 'bumps my bag'. However, he is more like the gentle hand milker. You see, when I milk my goats, they stand on a stanchion (milk stand) and eat their fill of their favorite treats while I milk them. I am tender and make sure I fill them up as I empty them. Adversely, their babies can only take.

My children are at a point in which their 'bumping' is of a selfish nature and they don't think of the tax it puts on me. It's my responsibility, however, to not only fill them up but to teach them how to give back. They will not be kids forever, and they need to learn every day to be more like the gentle hand milker. While they are yet learning, though, I must lean into God who feeds me. He takes good care of me and makes sure I get all I need.

"God gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak." -Isaiah 40:29. If you're worn out, you're in good company!

For those of you who feel the way I do, and whose soul is often feeling the way mine does, remember to press into God. Read the Word; it will refresh you, I promise. Pray. Pray as much as you can. Pray in the Spirit so that the act of praying itself will not weary you. Trust. God is good on His word. And remember, if you don't like having your 'bag' violently bumped, employ the golden rule and don't do it to others! Children learn by example.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Say Cheese!




Today, I have finally enough milk to make cheese. Oh boy, does it take a lot of milk to even make a little bit of cheese! The average conversion of milk to cheese is 8 lbs. of milk to 1 lb. of cheese....so you're making approximately 7 lbs. of whey in the process.

When I was a teenager, I had a youth leader named Dean Carlo. God used him immensely, and one thing he told me that deeply impacted me that 'everything is spiritual'. I've been pondering this today as I study my cheese making book...

The first step to almost every type of cheese is heating up your milk. It needs to be a little more than room temperature. Next, is ripening. Typically, I put some cultured buttermilk in with my warmed milk and let it sit to ripen. Then, it's time to separate the curd from the whey. To do this, you add rennet. There's two types of rennet: animal and vegetable. They both are basically the same enzyme that causes the milk to clabber, but they are simply derived from different sources. After letting it sit to separate, you cut your 'mass' of curd into cubes and stir to really separate. Then, you drain the whey and use your curds (the curds is the cheese, the whey is the liquid leftovers). Some people make use of their whey for drinking, but I simply can't get used to it, so I feed it to my chickens. They like it well enough, since I'm convinced they can't taste anything anyway. What you do with your curds, then, is what makes the differences in the myriad of cheeses in existence. A soft cheese is just salted and left to drain a bit more in a cheese cloth and can be used in sometimes less than a day. A hard cheese must be pressed and dressed and repressed and redressed and left to be salted, aged, turned, salted, aged, turned...sometimes for months or years!!!

(I'm making a hard cheese today, so I'll talk about it)

When I came into fellowship with my creator, it was comfortable. I wandered into his arms like a toddler reuniting with his/her mommy after spending all day with strangers. I felt cuddled and coddled and treasured. Comfort. Warmth. I felt much the way this milk must have felt (bear with me, I know milk doesn't have feelings) to be warmed gently on the stove.

If I had been left to just sit warm on the stove, I would spoil. Specific 'cultures' must be put into me to give me a specific flavor; otherwise, I would simply go sour. My patient, gracious God let that sit a while and didn't rush me while I quietly changed my flavor. He didn't 'stir the pot' while I acclimated to this situation.

Next, it's time to truly change who I am. If we are to be truly one with God, there will be a necessary separation. I like to think of God's holiness being much like rennet. His holiness is an indisputable catalyst propelling my innards toward a rapid and violent change in my very structure. As God's math and holiness often demonstrates, much of what we've been made of is more waste than wholesomeness.

Time to make less of me! He takes this mass He's created and chops me up until I barely resemble what I once was. The smaller I am, in and of myself, the easier it will be for Him to strain out my 'waste'. After all of this disruption, He is often kind enough to let me set a while and let a natural 'separation' and 'falling away' occur as I become more situated with my new identity.

I don't sit for long! He pours me out and begins to work with the substance He's made. I'm salted (oh, this has a lot of spiritual connotations, doesn't it?). The main idea behind salt in cheese making is preservation to carry the freshness of cheese on through the aging process. So, my God pledges his goodness to me so that I will not become wearied in the processes ahead of me. They may not be as violent and obvious as the previous processes, but that doesn't mean they will be easy!

Now, I am put into the press. This is not as quick as I would hope, but it's very necessary. I am squeezed and pressed to shape me into a manageable lump of cheese. This process also achieves the last of the separation of the curd and whey that wasn't removed by the draining process. Now I sit and wait to be released. Guess what? Once is often not enough! I am put into a fresh garment (cheesecloth) and put back into the press for a tighter squeeze. Usually, once more will do the trick with another fresh cloth since I've saturated all of my previous ones. In my spiritual life, I'm sure I've saturated my garments with tears during this time.

I now resemble the end product a lot. However, I do not have the appropriate texture or flavor. I must be put on a shelf and aged. However, while I wait on the Lord, I am not left alone. I am continuously taken off to be re salted and turned to the other side so I am evenly ripened. Over and over my Lord refreshes me while I wait on Him. He makes sure the conditions are just right so that I don't grow mold or dry out. In this instance, I like to think of mold as bad attitudes and impatience. Drying out to me is simply weariness and exhaustion.

After the perfect amount of time, my Lord takes me from the shelf and uses me. Milk is the raw stage, and cheese is the end product. Milk can be used for drinking, but that's it. If it's to be used for anything more, something must be done with it. Without Christ, I could be nice, hold down a job, have honest relationships, and help out my fellow man. With Christ, the possibilities open up so much more. Have you ever had a dish with cheese? I'm sure you have! How many of your favorite dishes have cheese? Probably most, because cheese is so much more flavorful and fun to work with. I long to be a pleasure in the hands of the one who made me.

I hope this reflection is not too far of a stretch to you and I hope I've communicated well. It surely means something to me, and I hope you can relate.

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." -Ephesians 2:10