The Light is On…

Yesterday was Halloween.  It is not a holiday I have generally been enthusiastic about.  When I was a high school student (ancient history for my kids) I heard a former Wiccan priest then converted Christ follower talk about the implication of Halloween to those in the Wiccan religion.  I remember it sounding like something straight out of hell itself.  Not wanting to even remotely associate with anything evil I decided then and there not to participate in Halloween things anymore.

Yes, I was the mother who didn’t let my children get dressed up in a costume and traipse around the neighborhood asking for treats.  Instead, we were in the basement of our home, but always with the lights on our front porch off.  It was neither friendly nor neighborly.  In our attempt to keep ourselves from even the hint of evil we alienated ourselves from the people who most needed the gospel, our neighbors.  I knew people who refused to give candy out but would grudgingly buy gospel tracts to hand out instead.  No wonder the people around me considered Christians spoil sports.  I thought I was being righteous but really all I was being was selfish and stuck up.  There was nothing righteous about what I did.

My attitude toward Halloween started to change when my daughter, Kirsten, who had never been trick or treating in her life decided to give it a whirl with a couple friends when she was in college.  I chuckled at the stories she shared about the experience.  It didn’t sound evil at all.  And what she did sounded like clean fun rather than evil.  My mind began to shift.  Maybe I’d been a little too cautious with Paul’s admonition to “abstain from every form of evil.” (1 Thes. 5:22)

Before we moved to State College, PA in the fall of 2016 I began to be convicted that I needed to “be Jesus” to those with whom I came in contact.  I bought lunch for the movers that packed our house in Eau Claire, WI and then sent my husband to get sandwiches and drinks for the movers who moved everything into our new home near Bellefonte, PA.  I tried to respond hospitably to people I was coming into contact with, often for the very first time.

Then in April 2017 our pastor did a series of messages on the Art of Neighboring.  He continued the neighboring theme over the summer with a series he entitled More Than I See.  Convicting and life changing sermons, to be sure.  I became more aware of my call to be a “front yard missionary” and being perhaps the only gospel my neighbors might ever read.  I did not want to be the stodgy, old Christian woman who kept Jesus to myself.

And so when our friends Tim and Nancy Suloff told us they would not come to life group on October 31^st because they wanted to be present in their neighborhood to welcome children to their door, I moved past any misgivings still noodling around in my head and decided to be present in my neighborhood as well.  What happened?  When I turned my light on my entire neighborhood came to me.  I truly enjoyed seeing the children graciously receiving their treats, some being coached by thoughtful parents using the event as a teaching moment to encourage thankfulness but many offering big smiles with their polite “Thank you’s” all on their own.  I couldn’t stop smiling all evening.  Not only did I turn my light on, I let my son Jadon go trick or treating with some of his friends.  He came home with a big bag of candy, including a very large treat bag filled to the brim with all sorts of wonderful goodies AND a gospel tract.  It warmed my heart to know that there were others besides me, with their lights on and their hearts full of the love of Jesus, being Christ to their neighbors.

So next Halloween guess who’s going to have her light on?

The beginning of a dream...

I gave up on dreaming when I was a child.  I think that may have been because just about every time I proposed something I wanted there was always a reason presented back to me why that wouldn't work.  There was a very narrow window of things in my childhood life that were acceptable.  And a lot that weren’t!  It seemed every time there was something I desired it fell under the category of unacceptable things.  I don’t even remember what most of them were now.  I don’t think they were unreasonable things, just inconvenient.  Then there were those things that held out some hope for a time, but after I’d poured some effort into reaching a goal the good outcome I’d been hoping for evaporated.  It became easier to just not hope.  I don’t think my parents set out to hurt me, but it did.

A number of years ago while my husband, Alan, was reading Getting the Right Things Right by Charlie Hedges he posed the question to me, “What would you like to see yourself doing or where would do you see yourself five years from now?”  “I don’t know,” I casually replied.  “No, really,” he pressed, “Don’t you have a dream you’d like to see accomplished in your life?”  I didn’t know how to respond to that question and started crying, tears slowly trickling down my cheeks at first but then a torrent of them threatening to capsize me, “I don’t know,” I choked out. “I don’t have any dreams.”  He was shocked!  That was my first clue that something was terribly wrong in my soul, but it still took many years for me to overcome the hope stealing environment that had robbed me of those dreams to begin with.  In fact, it wasn’t until recently that I realized how uncertain dreams still were to me.

During the first week of October 2017 Calvary Church of State College, PA had a week long, uninterrupted period of prayer.  We covered prayer 24/7 by having individuals and groups sign up for time slots with which to be praying, many at a tent set up outside our Harvest Fields location.  I showed up for my first time slot on Monday morning.  There were already several women praying there when I arrived.  We started praying passionately for revival.  Many on the staff and in the church had begun even before the week of prayer had started.  I had felt an excitement building in me as I watched those around me become genuinely excited that God was in the midst of doing something.  But here at my time in the prayer tent I suddenly started feeling uncertain and afraid.  Why should I believe God would answer me?  What if God chose not to work in this time frame because I had become involved?  Crazy talk? Yes, but it sure took me back to some old places, overturned dreams at the hand of my mother.  And fear gripped my heart.  I recognized the implications almost immediately and started giving them to God, asking Him to help stay the fear rising in me.  Those fears were still threatening to engulf me as I left the tent some time later.

God put those fears to rest moments later as I made my way toward home.  I got barely a half mile before I saw a woman walking, a skeptic really with whom I’d been able to share the gospel.  I stopped and asked if she’d like a ride.  She gladly accepted and told me she was on the way to the prayer tent.  What?!?!  After I dropped her off the Holy Spirit gently nudged me “She is my deposit.”  There were no trumpets, no shouts, just a very gentle matter of fact statement – she is my deposit.  An excitement swept over me!  God knew my fear and was speaking peace into my soul!

I began to question if there was a personal dream I could hope in again.  After a series of conversations with my friend, Kristin, I decided to give myself five minutes a day for two weeks to just let my mind wander to see if I could discover a dream I might have.  To my wonder I had my answer within the first five minutes of letting my heart wander with my mind.  I realized I’d had a dream for quite some time but had just been too afraid to own it.  I wanted to write, maybe even get published.  But write, for sure.

This blog is my commitment to that dream, to become a writer; a place where I can share what is noodling around in my head, a forum where I can pour out some of the things I have been able to discover in God’s word and life, a glimpse into the inner workings of the very jumbled mind of Ruth Rieck.

Welcome to my world!