BERRY GOOD SECURITY

 My childhood home in a Western Washington river valley had great soil for growing berries. As a child, I earned money for school supplies (like a new zipper-close three-ring notebook!) by picking raspberries at the farm belonging to one of my dad's coworkers. The task taught me to appreciate the sweat equity of “doing life,” especially for a little girl who wanted a new, pretty notebook for my success in school. My parents grew up in the Depression—my mom, especially in poverty as the oldest of nine born to a farmer—so such child labor (under the eye of a parent or older sibling) matched their value system.

Okay, all this is somewhat backtracking, but early-on I developed a love-hate relationship with berry picking, favoring picking blueberries over raspberries (which smashed too easily) or blackberries (with their dreaded thorns). After going to her share of You-Pick farms for berries to freeze for our family's food, my mom talked my dad into planting our own blueberry bushes. After that first year, realizing our bushes were a favorite feeding place for the local robins, my dad built a chicken-wire cage over them, complete with a door to go in and out. He even buried the bottom of the cage wire in the soil, so the birds couldn't squeeze underneath.

Oh, the delight of blueberries! The amusement of going in the “cage” and hearing birds outside squawk because they couldn't get inside, too!

When I married and my husband learned of my love affair with blueberries, he upped his love-care and planted several bushes behind our garage. And when the robins found them, he realized we had a problem. He wasn't interested in building a walk-in wire cage, but bought a net to deter the winged robbers.

So when blueberry season came again this year, I smiled, and gingerly lifted the net to claim the blue gems that are like candy for me. (I especially like them as toppings on my morning oatmeal.) And I remembered other times I came out to pick that a robin was either fussing from a nearby tree or one was thrashing about in the net, thwarted from its plan to dine on those divine fruits.

I thought of other “barriers” we sometimes need in life. Not to discourage birds, but to find a place of safety away from demanding, demeaning, or denigrating people. That last one is a big one, meaning “to attack the character or reputation or speak ill of, to defame.” I've experienced that and have had to repeatedly turn the “denigrator” over to the Lord.

And I have found that the Bible has plenty to say about real security in the Lord. Among them, these verses:

“The Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life, the Lord will watch over your coming and gong both now and forevermore.” (Psalm 121:7-8)

“I have set the Lord always before me; because he is as my right hand, I will not be shaken.” (Psalm 16:8)

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” (Psalm 91:1).

I'd love to hear your fav verses of security. The “comments” box awaits.....

IN A NUTSHELL

When weeding one day, I came across this stalk which revealed its origin when pulled from the soil. A future walnut tree! If planted and nurtured, given a few years (or decades), I could have harvested a few buckets to crack, hull and stuff in a freezer bag for future cooking projects. (Sorry, tossed it in the garbage.) Later, however, I thought of how our super-charged world likes simple things: big concepts reduced to catch phrases. Big ideas to a nutshell.

The Gospel is like that, yet not like that. It's a big idea, condensed often to easy-to-recall verses like “God so loved the world that He gave....” (John 3:16). It's also like the potential of something really big and nurturing to the world—the transformation of a sin-preferring human being into a humble person loving God with everything he or she has within him or her. I think Peter suggests this in his second letter to churches:

But grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. (2 Peter 3:18)

This stalwart statement came from a man of energy and convictions, his early character shaped in the turbulent and unpredictable waters of the Sea of Galilee. Sometimes fish filled his nets, sometimes not. Making a living was hard, then it got harder when a Teacher came to the shoreline and said, “Follow me.” Without a salary or a 401K or any of the financial tools we have today. Living.On.Faith.

The man who once wielded needles and twine to mend his fishing nets would find himself crafting words and admonitions to teach and encourage those drawn to the teachings of the Son of God. In becoming a “fisher of men,” he learned to pay attention to human character instead of the water and the weather.

I often return to the first chapter of 2 Peter and his description of growing godly character. One builds on another: faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, love. Such attributes of character are to grow “in increasing measure....[to] keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 1:8).

In a nutshell, that's the Gospel. Let Jesus change you, and plant you, to change the world.

SUN OF OUR SOULS

 A feature on a hymn of the faith

A bright yellow rose brings its sunny cheer every spring to my front-yard rose garden. At one time, a stake by each rose gave the floral name. This one is now “stakeless,” but I recall it as named “Oregold.” It's the sunshine bush of the “patch,” and my floral reminder of the “Sun of My Soul,” the Lord Jesus Christ.

Yes, there's a hymn of that name, and it goes way, way back to the late 1700s. The lyrics are credited to an English curate and scholar named John Keble (1792-1866). He didn't have all the scientific information we do about the sun. But he had a heart for God as well as a stout Anglican upbringing. He also knew his Bible, drawing the text for his most famous hymn from this prophecy of a Messiah:

But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. (Malachi 4:2)

Keble, son of a vicar, became one himself after his education at Oxford where he excelled academically. Loyal to his birth family, he turned down clerical promotions to serve in a small parish, taking care of his widowed father and sisters. He also was part of the “Oxford Movement,” which sought to return the Anglican church to its historical liturgical roots, in contrast to the Wesleyan “holiness” emphasis of that time. That's a very brief summary of his life; that in the online Wikipedia goes on and on (3,000 words plus charts).

In singing this song, my mind goes to the gleaming, blinding globe of the sky that we call “the sun.” I cannot even imagine its role in creation, except to trust in a God whose power is so great it is beyond human understanding. The entry for “sun” in the World Book encyclopedia (which supposedly condenses things down) goes on for 13 pages. All that technical information just scratches the surface, And then come the “sun” analogies in language and literature embracing its size, fury and sustaining power for life on earth. Keble tapped into that image in this hymn, one of many hymn texts attributed to him. (One resource said he wrote 56 hymns, another connected him to 765 hymn texts.) This hymn would eventually be included in more than 1,200 hymn compilations in several languages.

Despite his brilliance and credentials as a preacher and scholar, Keble was a modest man who published his hymn texts anonymously. Their royalties helped him pay the bills for the small village church where he served for more than three decades. He died at about 74 in 1866; his wife survived him by six weeks. They are buried side-by-side in churchyard at Hursley (about ten miles north of Southampton in England), his longtime parish.

In this classic “YouTube” rendition (a recording of hymns of 100 years or older), George Beverly Shea narrates and sings:

BingVideos

CHILLING THOUGHTS

Just thought with July's higher temperatures, you might need a “cool-down”--thus a photo taken half a year ago in the midst of a January freeze. Brr—probably you don't want to stand under this collection that I spotted across our back fence. Though not lethal, these pointy ice structures could bruise. And what a good picture of human character that would rather stab than heal.

I'm not a great fan of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), whose many connections included the Transcendental movement, which rejected the Christian view of God. But this Emerson quote surely lines up with the Biblical observation that “whatever a man sows, that will he also reap” (Galatians 6:7-9). Emerson's quote, very similar:

Sow an act and you reap a habit. Sow a habit and you reap a character. Sow a character and you reap a destiny.

In other words ,your choices can have the potential for long-range consequences that may outlive you.

To relate that to real icicles, given the right conditions, every accumulating drip “grows” the product. In 2017, an icicle 30 meters long and 15 meters wide (think: about 90 feet long and five feet wide) was found in a remote area of northwest China. You wouldn't want to stand under, or near, one like that. Even medium-size ones can threaten. Some winters in my town, I noticed wooden construction “horses” cordoning off a dangerous icicle by a business building.

But in everyday actions and words, we have the potential to be—or not to be—icicle people. That term fits folks who threaten others with icy verbal or behavioral jabs. And they wonder why people within range keep their social distance!

Okay, I'm guilty of breaking off real growing icicles that grow off our roof in winter. No damage done, in fact damage prevented before they grew big enough, say, to bend or break a rain gutter. And their potential to damage often reminds me of the human analogy of how “spiked words” (=mean, accusing, lying) can wound deeper than the speaker realizes.

By the way, I still remember my childhood task (2^nd grade?) of learning to spell “icicle.” It simply looked funny, all those “same” letters. I wanted to pronounce it ICK ICK LEE. My mother (probably) helped me see the music of the spelled out version: I SEE I SEE ELLY. I've never had a problem since!