Get out of the box

Like most people, I am uncomfortable when I sense that other people are "putting me in a box" or giving me a "label". I guess none of us likes to feel that someone thinks they have us all figured out. It's an insult to think I've been oversimplified.

Recently I realized, however, that sometimes I am the worst culprit when it comes to putting me in a box. I don't know if it's a normal phenomenon that comes with getting older but I am becoming more aware of how often I do this to myself. There's a little verse in Jeremiah that may shed some insight on this increasing awareness.

Jeremiah 48:11 says: Moab has been at ease since his youth; he has also been undisturbed on his lees, neither has he been emptied from vessel to vessel, nor has he gone into exile. Therefore he retains his flavor, and his aroma has not changed. (NASB)

This verse describes people who haven't been "emptied from vessel to vessel" - forced to adapt to new situations and environments. The consequence of not having to adapt is that "he retains his flavor and his aroma has not changed". I'm sure there are lots of exceptions but I have noticed that people who haven't had to move, haven't traveled, haven't dealt with people of different ages and beliefs, haven't had their lives shaken up in one way or another (perhaps through difficult circumstances) can easily become inflexible and have set ideas about the way "things ought to be".

The move to California has been a "pouring from vessel to vessel" for me. In a totally new situation lots of things have been stirred up and I've noticed things about myself that I may not have noticed if we'd stayed put. One of the things I've noticed are some of the boxes I've put myself in, some of the labels I've stuck on myself and become comfortable with over the years. Labels do simplify life and they aren't all bad but sometimes they can get in the way of growth and creativity.

Here's an example: Lately I realized that I had put myself into a "frugal" box and that box was keeping me from enjoying something that God has recently lavished on me (via my dear husband). It's time to get out of that box, even if it's only occasionally, and to let my "flavor" and aroma be changed by being poured into a new vessel. Hopefully, new avenues of creativity, joy and blessing for others will result. After all, it's not really about me, it's about becoming everything God has in mind for me to be. And for that, I gotta get out of that box.

Common Grace

Once in a while God gives us the ability to see just how fragile life is and what an amazing gift it is to be blessed with another day of life. Last night I was thinking about that and when I opened my eyes this morning it was with the realization that I opened them to a new day only by the grace of God.

A year ago I would have been hard-pressed to give a definition to "common grace". It was a concept I was vaguely aware of but hadn't thought about a lot. Over the past year I have become much more conscious of the concept, having been instructed in and reminded of it numerous times. Common grace is "common" because it is grace that is showered on all people, regardless of their spiritual condition or their recognition of the Giver of this grace. Common grace includes things like God's providential care of His creation, His restraining of evil in the world, His allowing mankind to live together without total chaos and His many blessings given through the use of mankind's intelligence - science, medicine and technology. "God causes His rain to fall on the good and evil" is a recognition of common grace. Common grace is "grace" because it is something that is totally undeserved by the recipients. God gives it because He is a giver, not because we deserve it.

Of course in a world that doesn't recognize God, common grace is unheard of. Being materialists, most of us think it's our jobs that provide for our needs, not recognizing that our ability to work and our job itself is a gift of God. In manifold ways we ignore the ultimate source, giving credit to the "second causes".

The only sane and reasonable response to an awareness of common grace is thankfulness. There's a whole lot of sound theology in the three little words "count your blessings". So today I'm thanking God for the common grace He showers in my life - things like waking up healthy this morning, starting and ending each day in the arms of a good man who loves me, the love of my family, food in my cupboards and refrigerator, the rain He's causing to fall on LA today, the blessing of music that pours from my CD player at the touch of a button, the mail system and my computer that bring me greetings from beloved friends far and wide, safety on the LA freeways. Of course all of these blessings pale in comparison to the surpassing value of the UNcommon grace He has poured out on me in Jesus' atoning death on the cross. But they are still there, day by day reminding me that the One who spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, will with Him also freely give us all things.

An understanding of God's common grace helps me when times get tough. If my trust is in the Giver and not in the gift, my foundation is secure no matter what happens. "He does not fear bad news nor live in dread of what may happen, for he is settled in his mind that Jehovah will take care of him." (Psalm 112:7 Living Bible) The God who cares for the sparrows and lilies is also in sovereign control of my life. Life is much better when I spend it thanking God for His blessings than when I live in fear of losing them. May God open our eyes to His grace, common and uncommon.

Totally Random....

Every blog-less day that goes by makes it easier to not blog. To get over that hurdle I am now going to blog, even if it is something totally inane. Somehow having this empty space before me intimidates me if I think about having to fill it with something significant. So here are a few random thoughts that have been bouncing around my head like pinballs.

Before my mom died, I remember her telling me one day that she would "give everything I own just to have all the grandkids little again for just a day or two". It surprised me at the time but I've thought about it many times since then, reflecting on just how precious those days were to her. Now that we have our own little grandson coming to visit Grandma and Grandpa and scooting around the house I can understand her. TeeTee has taught Micah several hand motions so that even though he can't talk, he can express certain things. The other day when he came over I was holding him, just enjoying the warmth of that little body in my arms. He put up with it for a minute and then he looked at me and used the hand motion for "Feed me!" I had to laugh - he already knows what Grandmas are supposed to do and he lost no time in reminding me. I thought of my mom and knew she would agree with Micah - that's what Grandmas are for.

How many of our memories are associated with the kitchen? At least in our family I know that many of them are. Anne made a reference this afternoon to my favorite hiding place for things I didn't want the kids to eat beforetime: the vegetable drawer. I knew if they went foraging for a snack they weren't likely to look in with the carrots, celery and half-withered apples so I would often slip something I was saving under the aforementioned items and could rest assured that it was safe there. I think it was only recently that I revealed that secret and I may yet regret spilling the beans on myself.

I find myself reflecting often on my place in the flow of generations. Hovering over my shoulder are the memories of my own parents and grandparents. In front of me are my children and grandchild. Definitely one of the benefits of being middle-aged.

Captain O'Hara's Wisdom

Alhambra Public Library moved to a new building late this summer. Most moves precipitate housecleaning so there were tables of books for sale as they purged the shelves. I came across a book by one of my favorite authors, a book I hadn't read before, Green Dolphin Street by Elizabeth Goudge. It was published in 1944 and I was thrilled with the find. This was the book I was reading as we traveled last August.

During our trip we visited three of the places we've lived in the past - the farmhouse in Illinois, the rowhouse in Bochum and the apartment in Aachen. Visiting the very different places we've called home and seeing the people who were part of those lives was an unusual experience, perhaps because the visits came in such quick succession, giving almost a time-warp effect to our lives.

As we were traveling, visiting these stopping points of our lives, Captain O'Hara, a key figure in the book I was reading, spoke these words: "There's much that goes to the makin' of a man or woman into somethin' better than a brute beast, but there's three things in chief, an' them three are the places where life sets us down, an' the folk life knocks us up against, an' not the things you get in life but the things ye don't get." Those words haunted me as we were revisiting the 'places life had set us down' and the 'folk life had knocked us up against'. It was clear to see that those places and people truly had influenced who we had become.

And now it's been 14 months since we moved to California, the latest 'place where life has set me down' and I have to admit that I'm surprised at how difficult the adjustment has been for me. I guess I expected that within a year I would feel at home and like I fit in. The truth is, I don't. I've been struggling with this some and wondering about it. Perhaps my expectations were all wrong. If my life were a jigsaw puzzle then I expected that I'd dismantle the pieces of my life in Illinois and just put them back together out here in California. Of course I realized that many of the background pieces would have to change but I still expected that the main "picture" would be the same. Strangely, it seems that few of the pieces fit together any more. No matter how hard I beat on those pieces, they just don't seem to fit any more. I've gone from trying to MAKE them fit, to trying to figure out WHY they don't fit, to a slow realization that God in His infinite wisdom is in the process of making a whole new picture out of the old pieces. Perhaps Captain O'Hara would say this is one of those 'things ye don't get' that is going into the making of who I am.

I've been reading two books lately that have given me a new hope for the picture God will eventually make out of the jigsaw pieces of my life. The Holiness of God by R.C. Sproul and Living the Cross-Centered Life by C.J. Mahaney have challenged me to hope that the new picture won't be one of me at all, but a clearer picture of the cross and the One who died on it for me. I'm awed at the drastic measures God can take to dismantle the old so He can form the new. I have to agree with Captain O'Hara, that there is much that goes into the makin' of a man or woman - much more than we want to see sometimes. I'm grateful for God's sovereign grace over it all.

The "Little Faiths"

I've been reading in the Gospel of Mark these days and in Mark 4 there is a story that has puzzled me many times. It is the story of Jesus and the disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in a boat when a horrific storm comes up and Jesus is asleep in the stern. In alarm, the disciples finally wake Jesus. It isn't clear to me what they thought Jesus could or would do but waking Him appears to be the only thing they could think of to do.

Jesus rebukes the wind and the waves and then chides the disciples for their lack of faith. The question that always troubles me is this: How SHOULD they have responded in that situation? I mean in a practical sense. Undeniably, they were in serious trouble. But Jesus obviously expected a different response from them. And when the storms hit in my own life, what should my faith look like, in an equally practical sense?

While mulling this question, I did a little study looking up all the passages where Jesus rebuked the disciples for their little faith. "Why are you afraid?" "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" "Where is your faith?" "You of little faith!" "Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?" "You men of little faith, why do you discuss among yourselves...?" Most of these rebukes are in the form of a question. Jesus asks in wonderment, "How is it possible that you can have fear?" In every case there is a juxtaposition of their natural response of fear and His assertion that their natural response should have been faith. I can see that faith would definitely have been preferable but I am still left wondering, what would that have looked like in the midst of that storm?

Three days after I started mulling these "little faith" questions, the Lord directed my attention to Acts 27. Here a few excerpts describing the magnitude of this, another storm story: "There rushed down from the land a violent wind...scarcely able to get the boat under control...let themselves be driven along... violently storm-tossed...neither sun nor stars for many days...no small storm assailing us...all hope of being saved gradually abandoned...long time without food." Truly another situation of genuine peril and this one lasting for many days. But then we see the response of faith as exhibited by the Apostle Paul: "Yet I urge you to keep up your courage...an angel appeared to me...do not be afraid...Therefore, keep up your courage, men, for I believe that it will turn out exactly as I have been told." Paul, instead of panic, was calmly encouraging the others and strengthening them to believe. Fear is contagious, but so also is faith. Even though the circumstances were dire, Paul was fully convinced that all would be well. In spite of eventual shipwreck against a rocky shore not a single life was lost.

I came across some writings from Julian of Norwich recently (more about that in another post) and was struck again by these famous lines that God revealed to her in a vision: All shall be well and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. There is a profound answer in that to my question of what one should say in those storm-tossed seasons of life. No need for "little faith" for "All shall be well."

Why Pray?

I think most of us, if asked to answer True or False to the statement "Prayer is important" would say without hesitation, "True!". If the next statement on the quiz was "I spend daily, deep, consistent and concentrated time in prayer" we might be tempted to ask if we could answer on a scale of 1 to 10 instead of a straight true or false. Prayer has always been an area of struggle for me personally. I think the main reason is simply that it is hard work. It's hard work to put aside my Do List and spend time investing my life for someone else's life; to put aside the tangible for the intangible; to wrestle through my undisciplined thoughts, to confess my sin and to do the labor of the kingdom on my knees. Another reason is that the enemy would rather have us do just about anything other than pray and is adept at offering me plenty of alternatives or distractions.

One question that has often niggled at my mind is simply this, "If God knows everything and can do anything He wants, why is it necessary for me to ask Him to do something?" In essence it's a question about how I figure into the equation. Why pray?

THAT God wants us to pray is infinitely clear. So as I go about being obedient I am always looking for answers to the question of why. Over the years I've collected a few of them that do encourage me greatly. Perhaps one or the other of them will encourage someone else.

I love the story of God revealing to Abraham that He was about to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham, interceding for any righteous people who might be swept away in the destruction, begins to bargain with God. It's almost as if he were in a market, bargaining over the price of an article. He repeatedly asks God to spare the city for the sake of an ever-decreasing number of possible-righteous. And the amazing thing is, that God submits to the shamelessness of Abraham's faith, as evidenced by his requests. Keil & Delitzsch comment that this is the holy "importunity" of Luke 11:8 that does not cease until its point is gained. They go on to say that this would indeed be neither permissible nor possible, had not God, by virtue of the mysterious interlacing of necessity and freedom in His nature and operations, granted a power to the prayer of faith, to which He consents to yield. For some reason the Creator allows Himself to be worked upon by the creation and has given His creation the right to assert itself in faith. If that isn't a reason to pray, I don't know what is!

Another thing that motivates me to pray is knowing that God uses our actions as a gauge of our faith. There are so many examples in Scripture of God providing something but it doesn't become ours until we take it by faith. In the wilderness He provided manna for the hungry people. But they had to go out every day and collect it (humbling themselves to bend over and gather the flaky substance). When the Israelites were about to enter the Promised Land, God promised that He would fight for them. But they still had to take up their weapons and fight, a definite act of faith. God delivered the children of Israel from Egypt but they had to use their feet and walk out. The fishermen had to cast out their nets and bring in the fish. And God provided a solution for our sin, but in faith we have to repent and receive it. So prayer isn't any different. God is willing to do amazing things for the Kingdom but He is waiting for me to ask in faith. I hope the epitaph of my life will never be "She did not have because she did not ask."

Making Good Use of Your Time

There's a little devotional book by a godly old Norwegian pastor named Ole Hallesby. This was the first devotional book I had as a child (borrowed from my mother) and although most of the thoughts were probably deeper than my understanding, I used that book for years. At some point I loaned it to someone and never got it back. A year or so ago, another copy of the very same book fell into my hands and I've been treasuring it ever since. I think at some point during the years I had actually prayed that I would get my book back - one of those "forgotten" prayers that you don't remember until the Lord answers them. It's been wonderful to have the gift of this little book.

I was reading in this book today and came across a thought that thundered in my brain when I read it. The context was the author's thoughts about God's mercy in the way He chastens us. "Suffering child of God! It is not dangerous to suffer. In this world we are to suffer. Christ went before us also in this respect. We are to follow Him also in suffering. You are making good use of your time when you suffer. You are suffering unjustly, you say? Oh, well, neither is that dangerous. That is the way Jesus suffered all His life."

What an amazing thought - that we are making good use of our time when we are suffering! Only a heart truly gripped by the Holy Spirit can speak those words. It is one of the great mysteries of the Kingdom, like the first being last, the least being greatest. My flesh will never tell me that suffering isn't dangerous, that it's making good use of my time. This echoes of Paul's words that "these momentary, light afflictions are producing for us an eternal weight of glory." Producing an eternal weight of glory is definitely a good use of time; turning light affliction into a weight of glory is a good return on the investment. What Paul considered "light" affliction is rather boggling, though, too (beatings, imprisonments, etc).

Another thought I was chewing on today was from Ephesians 2:10: For we are His workmanship... I was trying to find out what that word "workmanship" means. I know there is the obvious meaning but I thought there might be more behind it. I checked several sources and found an interesting insight in Vine's Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words. The Greek word for workmanship is POIEMA. It means something that is made, fabricated. It is the word from which we get our word "poem". So the next time I start to feel a bit worthless, I will remind myself that I am God's poem, created in Christ Jesus for good works.

Dead is dead

Sometimes you have one of those moments when a truth sinks in and begins to revolutionize your thinking. I had one of those moments on Saturday.

Pete and I were discussing Ephesians 2:1-10 in preparation for our small group. The apostle Paul states bluntly in verse 1 "And you were dead in your trespasses and sins" (NASB). Pete made the observation that "there aren't degrees of deadness - dead is dead. Some people aren't more dead than others." A light went on for me at those words. I don't know how I've missed the implications of that all these years. Sometimes in my prayers for people I find myself thinking, "Oh, this person is so FAR from the Lord!" as if that would somehow make a difference in how hard it would be to save them. But, silly me, there aren't degrees in deadness. You can't be a "little" dead.

I've been thinking and rejoicing over that verse these last few days. It isn't easier to save a "nice" dead person than an "evil" dead person; it isn't easier to save someone who has only been dead for, say, 4 or 5 years than someone who has been dead for 40 years. Every one of us that has been saved is a miracle of salvation and redemption, even if I was saved as a small child. It's a miracle because I was a dead small child, dead in my trespasses and sins.

There is another picture in Ephesians that, coupled with this thought, infuses my prayers with hope. In chapter 1 (verses 15-23) Paul is telling of his prayer for the Ephesians. He asks that "the eyes of their heart may be enlightened to know (among other things) what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us..in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead." Phew - that's quite a mouthful, one of those lofty Pauline thoughts in Ephesians that we hardly know what to do with. The Living Bible puts it this way: "I pray that you will begin to understand how incredibly great His power is to help us who believe in Him. It is that same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead..." I picture Jesus dead in the tomb, wrapped in linen, bound and unmoving. Suddenly the power of God bursts forth and in an instant Jesus is transformed, raised from the dead and made alive forevermore. THAT is the power that is available to help me! THAT is the "working of the strength of His might which...raised Him from the dead."

The power that raised Jesus is the same power that raises each of us from our deadness. It is the same power that works in us day by day, our Deliverer day by day.

What hope. Dead is dead. But GOD, being rich in mercy and mighty in power - there's no room for puny prayers in the light of that truth.

Simple but difficult

Pete and I had an ongoing argument many years ago. He maintained that life was simple and I said it was complicated. We finally agreed on the idea that life is simple - but difficult. Most truth is pretty simple (to understand), but that doesn't mean it is easy (to apply or obey).

Here's one of those "simple but difficult" concepts: God's sovereignty.

This morning I was juggling and chewing on some ideas and it occurred to me that there are two truths I have taken a long time to learn in life. One of them is this: I am NOT the Assistant Holy Spirit. The other is: Don't turn every difficulty in life into an occasion for self-pity. I realized that really both of those lessons hinge on my understanding of God's sovereignty.

When I first heard the term "sovereignty" I really had no idea, except from the context, what in the world it was supposed to mean. Scripture doesn't use the term "sovereign" when talking about God but the concept is implied and described throughout the Bible. The Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Bible (Grand Rapids, MI, 1978, vol. 5, pg. 498, article by H.B.Kuhn) says this: "sovereignty" connotes a situation in which a person, from his innate dignity, exercises supreme power, with no areas of his province outside his jurisdiction...as applied to God the term indicates His complete power over all of creation, so that He exercises His will absolutely...God's sovereignty is His omnipotence expressing itself in relation to the created world."

Books have been written trying to explain how this all works in relation to the free will of man and that is totally outside the realm of these lines. What I'm talking about here is the simple assurance that nothing He allows in my life is outside the control of my loving Father. And if He sees fit to allow it, then it should be my good pleasure to receive it. No matter how difficult a pill it is to swallow.

If God is in control of His Holy Spirit's work in other people's lives, then I have no need to jump in there and assist Him (lesson 1 above). He may lead me to share a word or idea but it's not my job to try to change people. It's one thing to serve them and build them up, another to try to change them.

And if God truly is in control of my circumstances, then I have no need to feel sorry for myself (lesson 2 above). I may feel like I'm being taxed beyond the limits of my endurance or patience or whatever but if God has let these circumstances through His filter into my life, then He obviously has a purpose in them. The sooner I learn the lesson, the better.

Praises instead of complaining. It's only reasonable, isn't it? Rom. 12:1-2

Seen on the LA Freeway

A truck with rolls of turf. Sign on back of truck: Instant Grassification.

Someone in advertising deserves a raise for that one. I love it.

The Soil of God's Marvelous Love

For several days now I've been chewing on Paul's prayer in Ephesians 3: 14-21. The words there have been described as "the grandest promises which human language can express" (Adolphe Monod) and so they have furnished much fodder for thought. Bishop Moule's Ephesians Studies has been a wonderful help and guide. A phrase I re-read there this morning is worth sharing. Speaking of the phrase "you, being rooted and grounded in love" (or as the Living Bible says, "I pray that your roots will go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love") Bishop Moule explains it as meaning:
"that in the eternal love they may so feel their 'root and foundation' that they may look around from it and contemplate in peace the universe of salvation."

The word picture he creates is marvelous - standing rooted deeply in His love, our outlook on the world is one of peace, everything working together for good because of His salvation.

What a prayer to learn to pray.

Thoughts of Home

All our moving boxes have been on loan to some friends from church and today they brought them back. Collapsed, they store nicely under the garage staircase. While cleaning out that cubbyhole we were poking through a few boxes full of things that didn't fit in the house here (mostly because the kitchen and bookcases were already full). The table cloths that had covered the table in the farmhouse kitchen for so many summers and winters brought back memories of those times when "everyone's feet were under the table" as my dad used to say. My apple peeler is in storage, too, waiting for the return to the apple trees of home. We're happy here and fervently praying that we won't have to move when our lease is up. But seeing things from the farm did bring some pangs.

Oddly, this morning I was leafing through a notebook and came across some quotes I had written down on the topic of home.

"And pray what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary noons, than a sufficient number of ears of green sweet corn boiled, with the addition of salt?" Henry David Thoreau (If you're from Illinois corn = home.)

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin built there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade. Yeats

The following was found on a wall panel in an old house in Concord, Mass, author unknown.
He who loves an old house
Will never love in vain-
For how can any old house
Used to sun and rain,
To lilac and to larkspur,
To arching trees above,
Fail to give its answer
To the heart that gives its love?

One of my mom's favorite authors was Gladys Taber. In honor of Mom's 92nd birthday which would have been yesterday, here's a quote from Gladys and her "One and Only True Shortcake Recipe", just in time for strawberry season.

"The mind makes many journeys, but the heart stays home."

Gladys Taber's True Strawberry Shortcake

Sift together 2 C. flour, 4 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt, 2 tsp sugar. Work in 1/3 C. butter and gradually add 3/4 C. milk. Toss the mixture on a floured board, patting it rather than rolling it. Bake it in a deep pie pan at 425 deg. for about 25-30 minutes, then split it and butter both halves.
Pour crushed, sweetened strawberries on the bottom half, pour more on top and serve immediately with thick cream. Serve in shallow soup plates. Will serve four.

Don't bother to count the calories. Fresh strawberries are worth it!

Jasmine

Before we moved to California jasmine was just a word to me. I knew it was some kind of very fragrant flower and I'd even drunk jasmine tea. But I didn't really know jasmine.

Now, however, I KNOW jasmine. Starting sometime in March the climbing jasmine was blooming all over the neighborhood and even just driving by in a car with the windows open the fragrance was overpowering. For a couple of weeks now the star jasmine, a groundcover type jasmine, has been in full bloom and once again it's like walking through a jasmine cloud. There's really no way to describe it but once you have the experience of it, the word "jasmine" conjures up a whole lot more than just a vague definition.

I was thinking that the same is true for other things, like hope. And redemption. We can use the words and have a vague idea of what they mean. But until we have been born into the kingdom and actually experience true hope and real redemption from our lostness, well, they are just words and ideas to us. But having experienced real hope, there's no going back. Once we're bought, the "freedom" of lostness has no appeal. We may not be able to describe it to someone else - we can only encourage them to taste it for themselves. "Taste and see that the Lord is good."

True Grit

I was praying for someone today and the thing the Lord laid on my heart to pray for this person was for "grit". That's not a term you'll find anywhere in the Bible; it's not listed in the fruit of the Spirit ("love, joy, peace, patience, grit"???). But I wonder if you put the things on that list together, if you don't really have grit, too.

My big dictionary* defines grit as "firmness of character; indomitable spirit; pluck". Indomitable means something that cannot be subdued or overcome, cannot be "tamed". Amy Carmichael calls it "that in us which sets the firmer the harder things are. It is the reinforced concrete of character." People who have grit don't give up, don't whine and complain, don't wallow in self-pity. No matter what the difficulty, they hang on to the truth that they know and keep going.

Just like muscles, grit doesn't develop in a vacuum. It is only shown in the face of opposition and difficulty. There are many examples of grit in Scripture but the verses which come to my mind first are in Daniel (talk about a man with grit!). His friends Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego said to King Nebuchadnezzar "Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire...but even if He does not, we are not going to serve your gods." (3:7,8) How's that for grit?! Later in the same book, in his prophecies of the end times Daniel says that many will be turned to godlessness "but the people who know their God will display strength and take action." People who know God have grit. They go from strength to strength. It is a worthy thing to pray for but it only comes through difficulties. The person I'm praying for is already enrolled in Grit 101 - I hope they pass the class.

*Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language

Sharing Every Joy

I have such a wonderful time bathing in Scripture and journaling the things God shows me. I find myself very reluctant to "publish" these to the world (or the few people who read this blog). A thought from Amy Carmichael this morning cast a new light on it for me. She wrote:
Some of us are like Peter, "Silver and gold have I none." But we have other things: for example, books. Am I sharing my books and what I read in them? Am I sharing every joy I can?

I took that little thought of "sharing every joy" to heart and am laying out these encouraging words from the Psalms today.

The first one was Psalm 68:19-20 Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears our burden, the God who is our salvation. God is to us a God of deliverances...

My good friends Keil & Delitzsch mention that this "burden" (singular) is "the burden and pressure of the hostile world...which the Lord day by day helps His church to bear, inasmuch as He is mighty by His strength in her who of herself is so feeble". What comforting words when we do daily and sharply sense the hostility of the world. HE bears it, not just we.

Another verse in the chain of thought God was weaving for my day was Psalm 40:2 & 3: He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. David, just rescued from danger (out of the pit of destruction and out of the miry clay), is still exposed to peril. In that situation he offers praise to God because, according to Psalm 50:23 gratitude is the way to salvation. He who offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving honors Me; and to him who orders his way aright I shall show the salvation of God.

Thankfulness and praise are to be my highest priority, for through them God shows His salvation, gives me deliverance and daily bears my burden. There is no provision in Scripture for downcast spirits. I can't always give thanks FOR all things but I certainly can give thanks IN all things. Through Him then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name (Heb. 13:15). A day spent in praise can't be wasted, no matter what else happens!

A Listening Heart

It's Tuesday morning and high time to get rid of Sunday's LA Times. I confess that I don't read a lot of it but thought I'd better flip through before I put it in the recycling. There's a huge section on the latest films that have come out (yes, this really is entertainment city). In real estate I notice that Aldous Huxley's house on Mulholland Drive is for sale for just under $3 million (he died in the 60's but his wife died last December). The lots that he used to live on (the house burned down) recently sold for just over a million. There's advice on how to make a killing by getting good things at estate sales. Lots of pages devoted to style and fashion, most of which make me wonder whatever happened to beauty.

After I had disposed of the paper, I poured a cup of coffee and settled down with my Bible. I've been reading Nehemiah (did you know his name means "Yahweh consoles"? I love that) and thinking about his prayer in chapter 1. It reminded me of Daniel's prayer (Daniel 9). As often happens, one thought and passage leads to another and I turned to Solomon's prayer in I Kings 3. In 3:9 Solomon asks God for "an understanding heart". Another translation calls it "a listening heart". A heart that listens to God. Psalm 25:14 says that "the secret of the Lord is for them that fear Him." Another translation has that as "the secret converse of the Lord". From these verses I was getting a picture of a special quality of heart that is tuned in to and made privy to the thoughts of God. I turned to Keil and Delitzsch to see how they render the Hebrew for "secret of the Lord". As is often the case, their explanation of the Hebrew sheds buckets of light. The root word means "to be or to make tight, firm, compressed". In the context it means "being closely pressed together for the purpose of secret communication and converse, confidential communion or being together...He (God) opens his mind without any reserve, speaks confidentially with those who fear Him...it is used of the imparting of not merely intellectual, but experimental knowledge...it is intended of the rich and deep and glorious character of the covenant revelation."

Men like Nehemiah, Daniel, David and Solomon experienced this "secret converse of the Lord". How much more could I, with the indwelling Holy Spirit, experience each day the rich, deep and glorious character of God's fellowship? It's what Jesus called "abiding in Me". All that is required is a heart that listens. To listen means, however, that I silence my soul so I can hear Him. How much more valuable to hear His thoughts and secret communication than to know the latest real estate prices. As Amy Carmichael wrote:

What do I know of listening? O my Father,
Teach me in silence of the soul to gather
Those thoughts of Thine that, deep within me flowing,
Like currents of a river, guide my going.

Afternoon adventures

The town we live in (pop. 87,000) is a pretty "normal" town. People on the streets are pretty "normal" people. 47% of the population is Asian, 35% is Hispanic and 13% white so that might not be quite typical of the rest of the country's demographics. But aside from the fact that most of the signs around town are written in Chinese and Spanish, the town looks fairly average middle-class American and I feel pretty much at home.

Pete had been encouraging me to come to Santa Monica some day (his office is there) and spend the day enjoying the shops, the lovely public library, the beach and (if I came on a Wednesday) the Farmer's Market. Yesterday was shaping up to be a beautiful and quiet day so late morning I hopped in the car and headed over there. It's about 25 miles there but light years in atmosphere.

SM isn't a bit like the town we live in. There are lots of lovely shops and interesting places but the people on the streets are definitely different. I strolled into the Farmer's Market minding my own business and just looking at the merchandise, not intending to buy anything because (a) I knew it would be hours before I went home and (b) I didn't want to carry anything heavy around all day. I heard someone yelling, "Hey, girlfriend!" and after a few calls, turned out of curiosity to see who was calling. To my chagrin, there was an enormous man wearing a fez, propped on a stool at a booth and he was beckoning to me! I smiled, shook my head and kept walking as I was in the middle of the street and well past the booth. He immediately started venting imprecations at me. I was mystified - what had I done to merit vilification?

On my second turn through the market I saw two men dressed in pale pink robes. They were both wearing unusual haircuts and one was handing a book to a vendor. I overheard a snatch of the conversation as I walked past: "...this is what we do: we take food, and then we prepare it with a much love as possible, and then we offer it...." My mind was already jumping into the conversation, "That sounds just like what I've done two or three times a day for the last 31 years!" Then I began to wonder about that little phrase "as much love as possible". How does one quantify how much love is possible? I don't doubt the young man's sincerity but his words somehow had an empty ring in my ears.

Later I took refuge in a good book, seated at a table in the sun-drenched courtyard of the public library. There is a small cafe' there and a lovely little stream that bisects the courtyard, making it a wonderful spot to rest and read. An older gentleman shuffled past me toward the cafe'. I glanced up and then looked again. He was wearing a brimmed canvas hat, the kind fishermen wear to stick their tackle in. Instead of tackle, he had all kinds of huge feathers of every hue sticking straight up out of the top of the hat. I was mesmerized - how had he got the feathers to stand up so straight? Would he make it through the door without knocking them off? Were the ends of the feathers poking his head inside the hat? Where did he get such a feather collection? I was tempted to open a conversation with him to ask about the hat but then I remembered Mr. Fez from the market and decided to let the gentleman just mind his own business. I don't know - maybe he would have enjoyed talking about his hat. I would have enjoyed hearing about it.

I guess the moral of the day is, next time I feel the need for a dose of the bizarre, I know where to go to find it.

Back to the blogging board

My last post was on Dec 14 and three days later our grandson, Micah, was born. Since then, although the "muse" has occasionally visited in the night or odd hours of the day, I've been somewhat preoccupied in Babyland. And the longer the break, the harder it is to get back to blogging. But life is equilibrating again and I'm back at the keyboard.

We are approaching our 7th month-iversary of our relocation to sunny southern California. Spring is in full swing here and everything is lush, green and blossoming. Citrus trees, jasmine, honeysuckle and something-pink-I-don't-know-the-name-for are loading the air with inebriating smells. I just walked out to the mailbox and the air is heavy with beautiful fragrance. One sunny day follows another.

A very interesting book I read this winter was Last Child In the Woods by Richard Louv. The author lives in the San Diego area and he made an interesting comment about life in southern California (or SoCal as it's often abbreviated around here). He said that southern California captures the body but not the soul. He hit the nail on the head. What's not to love about a climate this warm and sunny? But the extreme urban environment doesn't do much for the soul. Pete and I often escape east to the desert for some solitude.

Of course grandparenthood has been an incredible adventure. I'll write more about that some other time; four months of experience doesn't equip me to say much with authority on the subject except that we're loving it.

Time for one more juicy orange (bought from a street vendor at $4 for a huge bag-locally grown and sweet as nectar) and a walk through the neighborhood. I'm back to wearing my pedometer and striving for those 10,000 steps/day!