LIGHT-BEARER

My valley's skyscape one day seemed  appropriate for a March 19 Facebook entry I'd just read by a longtime writer-speaker friend. She  quoted  Eighteenth century English poet and hymnwriter William Cowper: “Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds you so much dread, Are big with mercy, and shall break in blessings on Thy head.” Soon after, on March 25, my friend, Lucinda ("Cindy") Secrest McDowell broke through those "much-dreaded" spiritual clouds to eternal life.

Not long before, as I read Cindy’s month-earlier (Feb. 21) Lenten blog, I had no clue how deeply its truths would test her. Referring to the “Ash Wednesday” tradition, she wrote:

“Sometime today, you might find yourself hearing these words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3.19), as an officiant traces ashes on your brow, made from burning last year’s palm branches. On Ash Wednesday, the church begins the 40-day season of Lent by reminding us of our mortality. While that may sound morbid, this holy practice can actually become a catalyst to pursue a deeper, more significant life…As Ash Wednesday launches the beginning of our journey towards Easter, I’m focusing on remembering the past, reflecting on the present, and relinquishing my future to a sovereign God.-- (From Feb. 21, 2023 blog at https://lucindasecrestmcdowell.com)

A month later, just weeks before her 70^th birthday, Lucinda (“Cindy”) Secrest McDowell died of just-discovered invasive cancer. Shocked in hearing that, I thought back to the 2023 life “focus word” she had chosen: the Hebrew word hineni (pronounced hee-nay-nee), meaning “Here I am.”  Used of responding fully to a divine call, its most memorable use is in Genesis 22. There, Abraham had traveled to a certain mountain to obey God’s command to sacrifice the miracle child of his old age, Isaac. But just before Abraham prepares to kill his bound son on an altar, God calls again. Abraham responds, “Hineni”—“Here I am.” At that crucial moment, God tells him to spare the son. He has passed the test of obedience.

A gifted, prolific writer, she and her retired-pastor-husband had  entered their golden years...but her writing and speaking continued. "Hineni"--"here I am."

What a resume she had! Growing up in south Georgia, she raced through high school and college, throwing in (like Catherine Marshall’s fictional “Christy”) a stint of ministry among impoverished Appalachians. She finished a master's at Gordon Seminary in Massachusetts while living (as a hired housemate-helper) with famed author Elisabeth Elliot. Editing and writing jobs, (including one with a world-wide evangelism conference), then a few classes at Wheaton Graduate School (where I met her) came next. From there, she served as a missions pastor for a California mega-church. And that’s where she encountered a widower serving a parachurch ministry in Seattle. His wife had died, leaving him with three young children.

Some of her books from my bookshelf

Fast-forward through a long-distance courtship and marriage, and they’d follow pastoral callings on the other side of the nation, have a child together, and finally settle in a historic New England church. Busy as a pastor’s wife and mom to four, she’d find the time to write 13 books, contribute to 30 others, do other writing, and speak at conferences.

An avid reader—fiction, devotionals, Bible study, classics—she recycled the lessons of great spiritual leaders into her own writing. She mentored other writers through support groups and conferences. Whew. A full life. But one ended just before age 70, mere weeks after cancer was diagnosed.

Several decades ago, on the East coast for a business trip, I took a bus to her home in Connecticut. Though she was ill with a bad cold, she was a gracious hostess. I visited her historic church “gathered” in the 1600s and where George Washington once visited and worshiped. Behind the church spread a huge historic cemetery—rows upon rows of gravestones. (See some old graves behind us.) A few, she admitted with a smile, marked the final resting place of other “Lucindas” from centuries earlier.

Her given name, Lucinda, means “light.” I was privileged to be a tiny part of her light-bearing life. I treasure her books. I will read them again this year, grateful for knowing a woman who lived out her name, “light,” by responding, “Hineni….here I am.”

Be blessed by checking out these links:

My Word for the Year is in Hebrew – Lucinda Secrest McDowell

What Elisabeth Elliot Told Me | Lucinda Secrest McDowell – "Encouraging Words" (wordpress.com)