Rivers, By Joel Kibble "Let Me Fix It"

Let Me Fix It

My daughter loves to do crafts.  There seem to be few joys that are more inviting than grabbing some craft paper, glue, tape and sparkles and going to town on a new creation.  I will often find projects that she’s been working on and I’m amazed that she could come up with such ideas.  Well, the other day I found something that my daughter had left in the study that made me think.  While she was at her mother’s house, I came into the study and found the turquoise blue toothbrush holder that should have been in the bathroom sitting on her worktable.  She apparently had dropped and broken the top that holds the toothbrushes, as it was separated from the shaft that held it.  She had applied scotch tape to reconnect the top to the shaft, but the tape had failed to hold the large piece in place and there it was, partially hanging to the side in an awkward fashion.

At first I thought to reprimand her for not telling me about the broken toothbrush holder, reasoning that she had attempted to keep this a secret from me.  We’ve had a few conversations in the past about keeping secrets to hide mistakes.  In fact, I did recall hearing an object strike the floor the day before, but I was preoccupied with something else and didn’t follow up on the noise.  Her ensuing silence should have been an indicator that something was up, and this was it!  But then I thought about what she might have been feeling that caused her to decide to try to fix it herself.  

I reflected on my childhood.  How many times had I broken my father’s objects and tried to hide them, only to be found out and reprimanded hours, or even days later?  How many times had I been suddenly called in from playing with my friends to answer for some mistake I had hoped would never resurface again? A broken trophy? A scratched record?  A chewed up cassette still tangled in the tape recorder?  (Um, Am I dating myself?)  The lumpy throw rug in the living room of my father’s house would betray the many lists of items I’ve broken and brushed up under that rug, hoping never to be found.  So I could easily imagine what she might have been feeling in her effort to conceal her mistakes.    

As I stood in the door contemplating, I also thought that this might have been the reason why I’ve had such low tolerance for her decision to hide things from me. I see it in her because I see it in myself.  My desire to hide my brokenness causes me to learn to lie and to place the blame on other people.  It’s all too familiar to me and it comes from my desire to hide what’s broken in my life.  
My heart went out to my daughter when I thought about the little bit of stress she might have been going through that caused her to try to fix it herself.  But I didn’t need her to fix it.  I would happily have done it for her.  As I super glued the two pieces together, I longed to tell Karly that I found her mistake and that she didn’t need to hide it from me.  Things break.  We all make mistakes, but I wanted her to come to me about it instead of trying to conceal it and fix it herself.  Her desire came from an honest place, but I longed to give her the possible peace of mind that I didn’t hold her foible against her.  
So maybe this is how God thinks about us.  He knows we make mistakes and He sees how we’ve screwed up.  He knows we can’t fix what’s really wrong in our lives, and never expected us to do so by ourselves.  So maybe He looks at our pitiful patchwork and has the same tender regard for us.  He longs to relieve our stress and release us from the guilt we’ve been carrying.  Let Him have it.  Let Him fix it.

Joel Kibble is a world renowned dynamic motivational speaker, singer, songwriter, 
producer and member of the ten time Grammy Award winning group Take 6.


Official Site  |  Like Us  |  Follow Us

RIVERS, by Joel Kibble

Fire!

I have a close friend who shared with me about a catastrophe that he’s experienced recently.  He had a mechanic come over to his house to change a fuel pump in his truck.  In order to accomplish this, the mechanic needed to remove the fuel tank to get to the pump and replace it, then replace the fuel tank.  My friend asked the mechanic if he needed to pull the truck out of his garage to do this, and the mechanic replied that it wasn’t necessary.  He would be able to do all that he needed to do from inside my friend’s garage.
The mechanic had removed the tank, replaced the pump and was reinstalling the fuel tank and almost had it on when suddenly everything caught fire.  In seconds, the garage was engulfed in flames as the situation rapidly descended into chaos.  The mechanic and his assistant whose clothes also caught fire escaped with their lives and miraculously weren’t burned.  The truck was totally destroyed, as was the garage.  The fire hadn’t reached the rest of the house, but the house was lost to smoke damage, and when the fire department arrived, by protocol, all the windows in the house needed to be smashed out to keep the fire from consuming the structure of the house.  The rest of the house also sustained water damage, which rendered it completely unlivable.  In a matter of seconds, everything my friend owned was damaged.  
Blessings? Absolutely.  I won’t go into the fact that he, his wife, his mother-in-law, and his children were all away from home on this particular day, and that most of the rooms they usually occupy were closest to the garage.  That’s another testimony.  What intrigued me was what the fire marshal stated as the most likely possibility for the start of the fire.  While the mechanic otherwise appeared to have known what he was doing, it was determined that the garage wasn’t a sufficiently ventilated area, even with garage doors wide open.  The mechanic and his assistant had been working and had become familiar and unmindful of the trapped gasoline fumes that had surrounded them.  From a most unlikely source, a spark had ignited the trapped fumes.  Positioned in the garage was a refrigerator whose motor had automatically turned on, producing a spark sufficient to ignite the fumes, setting the truck and the garage on fire.
For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking of this fact, even though my friend went on to testify to the goodness of God in restoring what the fire had taken. The unfortunate events ironically strengthened his relationship to his wife and gave him a greater sense of the blessedness of life and its value.
Meditating over this event during the next couple of days, it became clear to me.  “Joey, you have been praying for more and more of the Holy Ghost’s fire and It’s presence in your life, but like the mechanic, there have been some potentially dangerous, surrounding conditions that you haven’t been mindful of or seriously considered.”  

Though he was able to do the job and had undoubtedly done it many times before, the mechanic had become familiar in his skills and had neglected basic fundamental rules.  He shouldn’t have been working in an unfamiliar environment with major potentially hazardous appliances. He should have chosen a well-ventilated environment, such as a properly equipped, professional auto-mechanic garage.  He had good intentions, but they were not sufficient to substitute for obedience to general rules of safety.

In the book of 2 Samuel 6, there was a story in the Bible about God’s people becoming equally careless of their environment.  David wanted to bring the ark of God back into the camp of Israel after they had become lackadaisical with the symbol of God’s abiding presence.  Their enemies, the Philistines, had snatched the ark from the Israelites, which had become nothing more than a glorified charm to them.  While the ark itself did nothing as far as victory for the Israelites, it desecrated the Philistine’s land and itself became a catastrophe wherever it was placed while in their possession.  In desperation, the Philistines put the symbol of God’s presence on a cart led by cattle and turned it loose, figuring that if the cattle miraculously pulled it out of their land and took it, unguided, back to the land of Israel, it must be the result of divine providence.  
King David had good intentions of putting the ark back where it belonged, but He and his priestly leaders had become familiar with disregarding what God had asked.  According to the book, Patriarchs and Prophets, when Uzzah the high priest stretched out his hand to steady the ark that was being carried on a cart back to Israel and was killed for touching it, there were three reasons.  One, Israel had become used to sin and disregarded God in a number of areas, which was how the ark got stolen in the first place.   Israel didn’t follow His express commands and had fallen out of vital communion with Him, yet decided to bring the symbol of His present out to wave it around in front of their enemies as if it had intrinsic power apart from God Himself.  

Two, God wanted it transported in a particular manner that He spelled out to the priests.  The ark had loops in which staves were inserted and it was to be “borne,” or carried on the priests shoulders, not on a cart. (Ex. 25:14) Uzzah, as a priest of the Lord, should have remembered that, but he didn’t think it deep what God had said about how it should be carried.  “God should be happy enough that we’re simply bringing it back,” he might have thought.  

Three, Uzzah was saturated with unconfessed sin in his life and presumed to approach the symbol of the Almighty and touch that which is holy to God.  The only time a priest even entered into the immediate presence of God was when the high priest entered the most holy place, once a year, to atone for the sins of the Israelites, and that only after the fasting and prayer of the entire nation to make sure all sins were confessed to God and forgiven by Him before coming into His Holy presence.  But priest and people had become so familiar with disregarding God and what He wanted that they and Uzzah felt comfortable in doing what seemed a well-intended task, and doing it their way.  So God dealt with him, and spared all of Israel in mercy to show them He meant business.  
 
As I listened to the details about how the fire started, the Lord made it clear to me that lately, I’ve been praying for more and more of the fire of the Holy Ghost.  That prayer has become routine, really, but I’ve grown immune to the sense of what it means to be fully inhabited by the Holy Spirit.  There are impure habits and practices that I’ve kept active as “back pocket sins,” and I’ve actually come to believe that God is okay with them and it doesn’t matter to Him that I retain them in my life.  “Why, He’s used me in such powerful ways in the past, and besides, lightening hasn’t struck me so far!”  Ps. 32:1 says, “Blessed is the man…whose sin is covered.” I’ve become comfortable moving about before the presence of God with open sin in my life, not considering how much He abhors sin or how He goes to great lengths to separate me from it by having His own innocent Son die for “my” disobedience, and not realizing that to sin, His very presence is a “consuming fire.” (Heb. 12:29) Yes, He wants to inhabit me and fill me with more of His abiding presence, but my nonchalant attitude toward my sins hovers around me like trapped gasoline fumes waiting to be ignited.  In addition, even though God loves to give mercy, good intentions are not a substitute for obedience.
David and the rest of Israel were spared despite the damages; the mechanic and his assistant were spared despite the damages; I have been spared despite the damages, and all because God wants me to get it right.  “…For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour; Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.” (1Tim. 2:3,4)

Joel Kibble is a world renowned dynamic motivational speaker, singer, songwriter, 
producer and member of the ten time Grammy Award winning group Take 6.

Official Site  |  Like Us  |  Follow Us

RIVERS: "Letting Go"

Letting Go

Many times, for birthday celebrations and special occasions, I will buy balloons.  They might come in different shapes, colors and sizes, but it just seems that balloons seal the deal with little kids.  On Valentine’s Day I brought home two balloons that screamed the occasion, and for the moment, my daughter was elated.

I even got the “Happy Valentine’s Day” balloon with the sound chip that balloons can come equipped with now.  It was a bit inappropriate, in that it played “You’re Still the One” by Orleans, but it conveyed my love for my daughter.  As I drove home with it, any little bump in the road would set off the sound chip, and anyone near had to endure the whole chorus of the song.

Valentine’s Day was great and as it passed, the balloons served as reminders of the wonderful evening we had together.  My daughter and I have this little tradition, though.  Cards get shaken for the money they hold and they get tossed.  Sweets get consumed, and toys get played with and balloons only have a couple of choices.  They pop or they deflate until they are thrown away.  Well, Karly and I have decided that we will release them and let them go.

How it became and tradition, I don’t know.  Maybe we just wanted to see how far they would float if we turned them loose.  Maybe I just didn’t want stray balloons left in my bedroom, startling me in the night by ominously looming over my head as I turn over.  But we just decided that it would be more interesting to release them into the wild blue sky, to whatever side of God’s closet balloons go to.  I don’t know, there’s just something about releasing them while they still have helium in them, while they can still rise that makes you feel you’re doing something profitable in the balloon-world for their inhabitants.  Some people collect the remnants and put them in a scrapbook, some take special pleasure in popping them, we let them go.

So, about a week later, when we were good and sick of hearing “Still the One,” when the balloons were meandering in the kitchen in a sad, melancholy way, we took them out to the back porch.  The sky was gray and it was a bit chilly with a slight, steady wind to our backs.  After we said our goodbyes to our one-time friends, we held them up to let them go.  The first balloon with the sound chip had the most helium.  We tapped it one good time to finally rid ourselves of the obnoxious song and turned it loose!  Wouldn’t you know it, as it rose into the air, and the song faded into the altitude, we thought we would be happy to be rid of it, but something about straining to hear the lyrics for the last time caused us, or at least me, to really take note.  The lyrics rang, “Still the one, that makes me shout. Still the one that I dream about.  We’re still havin’ fun, and you’re still the one.”

Higher and higher it rose, over the trees, over the highway, out of our neighborhood, until it diminished into a dot that we couldn’t make out anymore.  “I must be trippin,” I thought.  “I’m getting all sad over this silly balloon!” But the song was etched into my brain.

The second balloon was simpler in its written message, “I Love You” and much more plain looking.  It was more deflated, and for a second, as it hung close by just over our heads, we didn’t think it would make it into the wild.  But after a minute or so, and with some help from a gust of wind, it rose as well, and as though it lingered a little longer to say goodbye, it was finally taken by the current, and it was gone.  We waved to it, and as we did, I was sort of amazed at how I could become so attached to inanimate objects.

I began to think about why I was giving these balloons so much personality and emotion.  I realized that I’m at a point in my life where I need to let go of some things.  Sometimes I hold on to ideas, philosophies, memories, jobs and other things that have begun to droop and sag like those balloons.  My personality is such that I will hang on to these memories, songs, experiences, especially negative ones, and find myself refilling them with air to keep them around and strong, when they need to be released and let go.

Not only do I find that I hang on, but as life goes by, they build up and clutter my living space.  I have closets packed solid with clothes that I’ve not worn in years and will never wear again.  Even if I could fit them, they are out of style and finished.  I have drawers filled with trinkets that I would never use, wires that don’t fit any mechanism I have and pens that stopped writing years ago.  They take up space, and I can’t fit anything new into these drawers, but I’m holding on to the junk like it will be worth money someday.

In the recent few weeks, I’ve heard a few stories of older people finally passing away after long battles with disease and the effects of old age, and it makes me really think about why it’s never an option to let them go.  I always pray that God wouldn’t let them sleep until they have accomplished their work, but when they’ve made peace with God, why don’t I want to let them sleep?  Why won’t my life continue to grow and deepen in meaning after they have been laid to rest?  How do I know that my dogs won’t be a more wonderful blessing to someone else that needs companionship?  How do I know that cleaning out my drawers and my closets won’t make room for newer clothes that enhance my appearance, or gadgets that serve a meaningful function?  Maybe I’m afraid of the unknown.  Maybe I’ll regret not being able to get these things back.  But maybe I’ll grow as a result.

I’ll always remember the lesson my grandmother shared with me about pruning her peach trees when I came to visit and found many of the branches and green fruit cut away.  Some branches must be taken away, so that what remains may become more sweet and fruitful.  Sometimes, some things in life must be released and turned loose.  Maybe it’s not so bad.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away…He hath made everything beautiful in his time…” Eccl. 3:2-11.

Rivers, By Joel Kibble

Joel Kibble is a world renowned dynamic motivational speaker, singer, songwriter,
producer and member of the ten time Grammy Award winning group Take 6.


www.take6.com | www.facebook.com/take6