BY THEIR FRUITS.....

I was rushing through a local mega-mart this spring when a little plant in a near-the-register display whimpered, “Take me home!” You've seen those random near-checkout display shelves. The ones with the same compelling power as those of candy and gum by the conveyor belt where a child is apt to tug on a parent sleeve and say, “Please, Mommy (or Daddy), please.” The bedding plant looked so forlorn, I almost didn't “listen,” but I did decide to adopt it, and re-homed the plant in the sunniest place in my yard, right next to the mailbox. I put the wire supportive “tomato cage” around the infant plant it as preemptive protection!

I didn't hold much hope for its survival, but that little tomato start hung in there and grew and grew...and now is expressing its gratitude with tiny red, joy-prompting globes. “Cherry tomatoes.” Maybe call them “cheery tomatoes,” too, because their vibrant red skin promises delight inside, and I am not disappointed when I add them to my meal.

With time, my pitiful clearance plant grew strong and fruitful. So it is in the Christian walk, with time as we take in the nourishment of Living Water (scripture) and bask in the Sun of Righteousness (the Lord Jesus). And maybe that's another way of looking at His parable about the fig tree (Luke 13:6-9). In the parable, a barren tree was due for the rubbish pile because it just didn't produce figs. The farmer decided to give it one more year to prove itself. The analogy is to complacent Christians who aren't going anywhere in their faith walk. The lesson of “one last chance” holds both hope and fear.

Tomatoes, of course, are “annuals” with just one chance to bloom and yield fruit. Then the cycle begins again with the tiny seeds in each fruit that can carry on the fruit line. Without reproducing believers, faith would not grow and spread.

Living in an agrarian society, Jesus wisely taught from common things the people knew in their quest to feed and house their families with the basic necessities. And though our times have taken food production to new and sophisticated levels (ever eaten a green house tomato?), the lessons of God's creation never fail to teach again, and again.

Maybe next time you grab a tomato to put in a salad or BLT, pause a moment. That red globe didn't pop out of the air. God had a plan for it to grow and reproduce. Sound (humanly) familiar?

GUIDE ME!

The story behind a hymn of the faith.

Years ago in Wales a youth grew up in a family that chose a worship style different from the established church. That resulted in persecution so severe that his family and like-minded other families had to meet in a cave for worship during twilight, to avoid being “caught,” arrested, scattered or imprisoned by the king's soldiers. His father thought this brilliant son would become a doctor; instead, he became a preacher and writer of hymns including one we still sing: “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah.”

That's the quick backstory of Welsh evangelist Rev. William Williams (1717-1791) --and yes, his first and last names almost matched. His aspiration to become a doctor was changed one Sunday morning he traveled home from college. By one account, he was drawn to a service held in a local farmhouse. By another account, one day while passing through a little Welsh village, he heard church bells and slipped into the little “official” church, sitting through its very formal service. Afterwards, he noticed many reassembled in the cemetery outside the church where a man started preaching. Not flat, cold formal preaching, but fiery, convicting preaching like that of John the Baptist.

Whichever account is true, Williams' focus turned away from medical training to enter the Anglican ministry. But he never felt “at home” in the ritualistic church. Deciding instead to make all Wales his “parish,” over the next half century, on foot and by horse, covering 3,000 miles a year, he presented the Gospel of Christ in his home country. One source estimated he traveled more than 95,000 miles, drawing crowds of 10,000 or more. Of such large crowds in those pre-microphone days, Williams wrote in his journal: “God strengthened me to speak so loud that most could hear.” One mob nearly beat him to death. But he pursued God's will on his life until dying at age 74.

He was a hymn-writer as well as a preacher, leaving behind a reported 800 Welsh-language hymns, the best-known of which is “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah.” That text was inspired by the Bible's account of the Exodus from Egypt and as a symbol of a believer's spiritual pilgrimage. One writer remarked, “He sang Wales into piety.” Soon, all of Wales was singing, from the coal mines to the soccer field.

By the way, in Welsh this 1745 hymn's title is “Arglwydd, arwain trwy'r anialwch.” Learning Welsh was part of tasks facing then-19-year-old Prince Charles (now King) when his mother Queen Elizabeth II designated him “Prince of Wales.” For that, he was taken out of Cambridge University and enrolled at Aberystwyth University (at a seaside city in West Wales) for intensive language study. Years later, the hymn was sung at the 2007 funeral of Charles' former wife, Princess Diana.

Notably, a century-plus earlier, it was sung at the deathbed of U.S. President James Garfield, an inoperable (in those days) assassin's bullet lodged deep in his body. One day while hearing Mrs. Garfield singing this hymn, the dying President, aware of his own “soon exodus” to Heaven, remarked, “Glorious, isn't it?”

A Welsh choir and congregation sing the hymn in this You-Tube: 'Guide Me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah'.

(The site ends with the Welsh words.)

HOT STUFF

Yes, (baby), it was hot outside—no intended reference to a 1979 high-energy disco anthem about passionate connection which elevated the “hot stuff” saying. (Whew!). The first thing that came to my mind when I checked my outdoor thermometer one day was a quote from a half-century-plus ago, by Harry S Truman: “If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen.” (Ironically, this thermometer was in the shade outside the kitchen window!) In at least two instances, his quote came out in committee and staff meetings dealing with some heavy-duty national concerns. The essence is this: if the pressure of a high-stakes task is too much for you to cope with, leave so someone more capable can take over.

Few remember that Truman grew up in a Baptist church in Missouri, and claimed to have read through the Bible twice before he was twelve. He was said to have considered the Bible the moral core of American government. (More here: Sam Rushay: Harry S. Truman was a man of true faith ). (1) But long before Truman there lived another guy who found “the kitchen” way too hot. In his case, the kitchen was his God-invitation to the royal palace, which its current occupant did not want to leave. You've probably guessed: David, anointed to replace King Saul, but who had to endure a tumultuous transition in which Saul hunted him down like a criminal.

It's unlikely we'll be hiding in caves and behind rocks in a desperate effort to escape a would-be killer. But those intensive, faith-challenging times birthed the lyrics behind many of David's psalms. He didn't “get out of the kitchen.” He had to endure life in the “heat.” He listened to the voice of God, not that of his enemies. His Psalm 29 seems to emphasize that. Seven times he writes about the power of “the voice of God.” It's not an audible voice (as cartoonists tend to illustrate, which I think trivializes the mystery and power of God). But it's His voice revealed in His creation and the circumstances of life.

As I consider the imagery of Psalm 29, I notice that much is connected with loud, thunderous, scary storms. The psalm has vivid verbs: thunders, breaks, strikes, shakes, twists. It ends with God enthroned over all of this—after all, He created it! And the conclusion?

The LORD gives strength to his people; the LORD blesses his people with peace. (v. 11)

Life will have its share of storms. But through the tumult and mess and destructive power, these never change: His strength, His peace. The writer of Psalm 119 claimed this offer: “My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to Your word” (v. 28). The heat in the spiritual “kitchen” may get oppressive, but we don't have to stay in there and “stew” without relief when God offers His presence and help.

(1) Sam Rushay: Harry S. Truman was a man of true faith

GENTLE WORDS

Two "gentle" things from nature....
cotton and feathers

Gentle—even the word is usually pronounced softly, like the quality it describes. It makes me think of soft things like cotton and feathers. I was surprised to learn that our English word came from one meaning “a clan” or “a person of high social station.” That makes sense because a person born of “status” typically (though not always) has refined and polite manners and mannerisms. Think: “genteel.” Recall movies of old-time, manners-conscious aristocrats. Or, in another realm, the healing powders or lotions rubbed gently on inflamed skin.

People who portray the trait “gentle” usually have a kind face and mannerisms. There's no fire, hatred or bluster in their speaking or writing. They have control over anger. These scriptures come to mind:

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.” (James 1:20)

“Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” (Colossians 4:6) (The “salt” reference reminds me of how in Bible times salt was used to ward off spoilage. The verse does NOT refer to “salty language” associated with negatives.)

“When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise. The tongue of the righteous is choice silver....” (Proverbs 10:19-21—two of many “tongue” references in Proverbs)

“Put off falsehood and speak truthfully...in your anger do not sin...do not give the devil a foothold.” (Ephesians 4:25-27) It is possible to answer harshness with gentleness. Someone I know told of answering the phone one day and hearing the words, “I hate you!” Recognizing the voice of someone with anger issues (and for whom they'd prayed for years), they replied, “I can tell this is a negative call, so I'm going to hang up.” As expected, the caller immediately called again. But the recipient let the rebound call go to “message” rather than inviting more harsh words and an “anger foothold.”

Jesus could be harsh with the stiff-necked religious leaders of His times. He could reprimand His disciples when they got out of line. But He was also gentle with His followers and the fallen, wanting them to make wise and healing choices. Perhaps seeing that in the Gospel accounts has helped fasten a contemporary worship chorus to my heart. Listen here to the Gaithers' well-known “Gentle Shepherd.” (If there's an advertisement before the video, be patient for the performance.) Remember these lines: “We need your help from day to day.”

Gaither, Gaither Vocal Band - Gentle Shepherd [Live] ft. Gaither Vocal Band

WHAT'S 'RIGHT' ABOUT 'LEFT'

Ever given a thought to the trait of being right-handed? Or of the estimated 10-12% of the world's population who are left-handed? Even the Bible took note of it as a trait, highlighting a “leftie” Israelite judge and warrior who killed a Moabite king by pulling out his sword left-handed instead of the usual right-hand. It wasn't what the enemy king expected! (Judges 3:12-30).

Other than that, the Bible doesn't dwell too much on “handed-ness.” Most of the time I read about extending a right hand of welcome or the “right hand” side of a person being an honored place. When the Bible speaks of the “right hand of God the Father,” it's a metaphor for a place conveying authority, power, and honor. Jesus was accorded that honor upon ascending into Heaven. 

I have a grandson in elementary school who is left-handed, and for whom writing (especially cursive) is a not-fun task. When I help him with his homework, I sometimes wonder why our culture is so right-hand-focused. Another question: how much genetics affects that trait. In my family we were split: “lefty” husband/dad and lefty daughter, but “righty” mother (me) and son.

My “lefty” husband had a flowing cursive writing style, but he handled his pens or pencils in an “overhand” position. My “lefty” daughter chose a different way to hold a pen, but she capitalized her left-handed dexterity to become an accomplished violinist. (Have you ever watched a very good violinist and all the acrobatics the left hand accomplishes on the violin fingerboard?)

In modern times, the name “Lefty” has popped up in old Westerns (for characters with that trait and left-handed weapon-handling prowess). Many sports figures, especially baseball players, were called “Lefty” because that was their dominant hand. (Find the list here: Lefty - Wikipedia ). Left-handedness runs in British royalty: King George VI and the Queen Mother and their famous long-reigning daughter Elizabeth II. Her son (now King Charles) and grandson (Prince William) are also known to be lefties. The trait includes famed scientists: the Curies, Einstein, Newton, and Alan Turing (founded modern computer science).

Does “handedness” affect personality? Some say “lefties” are more independent because of how they've had to adapt to “righty” skills, like using scissors or can openers, writing in spiral notebooks (with the wire on the left), driving with a stick shift, and using computer mice.

Lots more could be dug up about the differences between “right” and “left.” But I am comforted and secure in knowing that such things are not a big deal to God. He said He is the way, the truth and the life. He who created us, also has a plan for us: “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it'” (Isaiah 30:21).

ASSIGNED SEATS

The grandson "side" of the table--three in a
row--Jimmy's with the "booster pad"

He turns the big “eight” in September—James (JimmyJohn, our pet family name for him), the youngest of my grands. With two just-older brothers, he's always wanted to be “just bigger” than the calendar allowed. It was a major moment when he outgrew the high chair and was allowed to eat right at the “big people” table. But that presented a problem. His chin lined up vertically with the tabletop, and he needed a “lift.” Enter a substantial foam “seat lift” from a yard sale, secured with a bungee cord. And thus has JimmyJohn felt like he's part of the “boy tribe” of my son's family.

The family meal setup in my compact kitchen/eating area, however, pales next to the elegance of what various artists have imagined might be Heaven's banquet hall (if we could even dare to suggest an earthly convention for Heaven's mysteries!). An internet search will bring up luxurious table settings with multiple goblets, and royal-worthy cutlery, gorgeous plates, and the soft lighting of candelabra. (This is one-- https://www.pinterest.com/pin/home-decor--33495590955158074/ – or search others with key words “dinner in heaven images.”) The truth is that we don't know. But if--BIG IF-- our earthly reality of gathering to eat and converse has a future heavenly "match," I'd say it's a good thing to keep having! 

Granted, it's chaotic when my son's family comes over. Because spills are inevitable on the “boy side” of the table, I have plastic place-mats featuring Washington state landmarks at the boys' places. That cuts down how often I need to wash the tablecloth, which covers a refurbished antique oak pedestal table. But we are together!

I realize that in many households, sitting around a communal table has become a thing of the past. Instead, dinners are placed on trays and the family “sits around” the television. Since dinnertime programming is typically news stations, I question (in jest, but partly in truth) if that habit might encourage indigestion. The worst and most vile seem to get the headlines around the dinner-hour news shows. And those who try to talk over the chatter of the news anchor are apt to get shushed by those wanting to keep on the keen edge of news events. On the other side of the spectrum, there are many who eat alone, quiet or with TV chatter in the background.

I prefer the “connection meals,” the ones where families ask each other, “Tell me about your day.” Or the celebration meals (like Thanksgiving, where many begin, “Tell one thing you're thankful for”). And such conversation should include the kids who are old enough to talk. Or who have graduated from the “high chair” to a regular adult chair (though helped with a thick cushion).

We need more at the table than “pass the peas” or “I want another roll.” In our fast-paced world, the table is the platform for talking to each other. I hope my grandsons see it that way, especially now that “younger brother” has a seat “up with” his older siblings. Someday, I realize, he won't need that booster. I'll put it away for possible “company need.”

In the meantime, let the conversation flow. More than, “Please pass the rolls.” “I want some more chicken casserole.” (Grandma: “Magic word?” Grandson, “PLEEAASSEE.”) Then, the second serving for a growing boy, soon to outgrow the booster seat. When they leave my home after a meal, and cleanup is done, sometimes I think...someday....how majestic, how sacred, how joyful, will be Heaven's "marriage supper of The Lamb"!

LIKE A RED-RED ROSE....

My home has a showcase flower bed that's packed with roses, including this brilliant red one named “Mr. Lincoln.” I am in no way qualified to rave on and on about hybrid roses. I just know the rose-bed that my husband had planted before we were married is a beautiful thing to behold. Especially this bush of red blooms reminds me of a famed poem by Robert Burns (1759-1796), titled “My Love is Like a Red-Red Rose.” He did other works which led to his reputation as the “national poet” of Scotland. If, at New Year's time you sing “Auld Lang Syne,” that's also a Burns work.

Although he's known in history as a Scottish poet, he was also infamous for his love life. He reportedly had at least twelve children by four separate mothers, seven of those children illegitimate. Historians also highlight his rebellion against morality and orthodox religion. But 250 years later, a little poem about a red rose and love is still around.*

The reputation of red roses pre-dates Burns' poetry, with the flowers symbolizing love, fidelity, passion, respect, and admiration.  As early as the third century AD, a thorn-less red rose was said to represent the virgin Mary for her purity, love for God, and motherly sacrifice. (Oddly, some early Christians were warned against planting red roses as they were reportedly a symbol of paganism!) In the 1500s in England, a “war” between royal families fighting for control of England was symbolized by white roses (House of York) and red roses (House of Lancaster). There's more...and if you're curious just go to this site: What Do Red Roses Mean? Symbolism, Spirituality & History

In our times, the saying “Bloom where you are planted” encourages people to make the best of their current circumstances. Our lives may have chapters that are difficult and simply not fun--"thorny," to continue the rose analogy. But instead of our fighting or complaining about them, God's way is to work through them and bring glory to Him through how they hone our character for good. In writing that, I inevitably go back to the humble wisdom expressed by Joseph of the Old Testament, an abused-brother-turned-slave-turned-royal-official in Egypt, who declared to his once-treacherous brothers: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good” (Genesis 50:20).

So, how can I connect a famous (and mushy) red-rose poem by a morally wayward Scotsman to life today? Maybe to get past the color symbolism, and to the basics of what “blooming” entails. The rose bloom is connected to the branch, which is connected to the root. And for believers in Christ, being “rooted” in Christ is the way—the only way—to bloom forth the beauty of His character. Burns, not known as a "man of faith," had problems with “real love” as he indulged in passion with many women. We have a Savior who loves us with absolute purity and the all-out sacrifice offered at a criminal punishment hill called Golgotha. One where crude execution crosses were stained....with red.

This spring I planted a rose where one had died. A red one. First one I saw at the hardware store plant display. Its name: "Forever Yours."  So appropriate in memory of my rose-grower husband. Its first blooms popped June 6 (to quote Burns' poem: "that sweetly blooms in June"....).

*The full text of the poem (and a commentary) can be found here: https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/red-red-rose/

EXAM TIME

It was time again to separate the weeds from the flowers, and toss the unwanted, wild greenery into the garbage bin. As I went through the routine of yard-work chores, I thought of how God does the same with those who seek to follow Him wholeheartedly. Like earth's rogue grasses, thistles, horsetails, and dandelions, there are spiritual faith-chokers that need removal so the soil of our souls can nourish the blossoms of godliness. Maybe, for this, we could use the term “eternal exams.”

Of course, the word "exams" takes me down memory lane to my education, especially college. The academic semester was full of lectures, papers, quizzes and such to convey information and evaluate how students were taking it in. With finals at the semester's end, two groups of students emerged: those who passed, and those who didn't. There were flowers (who bloomed through acquisition of knowledge) and weeds (those who slunk through without bearing the good fruit of learning).

Okay, done with poetic comparisons (and my analogy was admittedly a bit weird). But Jesus told a similar story (Matthew 13:24-30) about a farmer who sowed good seeds, symbolizing the goodness that God has sown into the world. But during the night, an enemy sowed weeds in the same field. Obvious analogy here: the work of Satan—sneaky and dark.

The weeds I pull are obviously different from the plants I want to nurture. But Jesus' parable makes a lot more sense upon learning the “weed” He probably had in mind: “darnel,” which looked like a stalk of wheat until mature and was toxic when ingested by animals and humans.* “Weeding out” the tares before harvest would damage the remaining wheat stalks. (Ever try to walk in a grain field without smashing the stalks?) After harvest, the weed-tares could be separated and burned.

I weed my flower beds and uproot dandelions to keep my home attractive and a credit to the neighborhood. When I get down on my knees to eradicate the unwanted weeds, I am reminded of how that humble posture is one way to approach a holy God in prayer.

My most-used tool is a long rod with a V-shaped tip to slip down the weed's stem to take “more” of the root than just snatching off the bloom. Maybe there's a lesson in that, too. When we're made aware of behaviors that aren't pleasing to God, it's easy to say, “Well, I won't do that anymore.” But casual declarations don't get to the “root” of the problem. God's “eternal exam time” digs deep into attitudes like selfishness and entitlement that grow from a life focused on me-me-me.

God's Final Exam is coming. In the meantime, we have the privilege of soul checkups—the “weeding out” of actions and attitudes that don't honor Him, giving the true blooms of godliness space to thrive.

*For more about the toxicity of “darnel,” check this reference: Topical Bible: Darnel

BLOOMERS V. GLOOMERS

“I hate this town!” the newcomer complained to me. “I can hardly wait to move back to my old town.” I don't remember what I replied—maybe to give the town a chance (as I had—and I was now quite comfortable and happy here). But difficult family circumstances had mandated the move. 

I thought about the phrase “bloom where you are planted.” I first heard it back in the 1970s when it was featured on posters showing lovely flowers. That's also when I, new to this town, decided I'd try to bloom, not “bomb out.”

Later I realized the principle was Biblical. The Old Testament's David probably had times of wanting to say, “I don't like living here.” Like, when as God's next-king-designate, David was hiding out in caves to escape murder by a deranged King Saul, whom he would succeed. I'm not sure when in his life he wrote what we call Psalm 37, but it sure speaks of navigating times when life doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped. Yet, of such times of “discombobulation” (I love that word; it means “a time of being upset or confusion”), David was able to declare:

Trust in the Lord, and do good,

Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.

Delight yourself also in the LORD,

And He shall give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him,

And He shall bring it to pass.

He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,

And your justice as the noonday. (Psalm 37:3-6 NKJV)

In other words, wait and see what God can do with your new circumstances. Be willing to flex, maybe learning new job skills and adjusting to new people, who just might bring out your “better self.”

I photographed this rhododendron in early May, when it was at its prime. (It reminded me of an orchid!) A few weeks later, the bloom had wilted, as “rhodies” are prone to do. I was reminded of the transience of God's floral kingdom but the wisdom He exercises with humans in “who” and “what” He plants and “where” for longtime “blooming.”

The prophet Jeremiah (long after David's time) used similar analogies in speaking of the sovereignty of God in moving people around. At this point in Hebrew history, his nation's widespread sin and apathy would soon result in a judgment of being captured and carted off to Babylon, a vicious and pagan nation. In his prophecies, Jeremiah emphasized that even when his nation's “location” and “vocation” wasn't what they dreamed of, to dig in and make it work.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 compares a person who trusts in the Lord to a tree planted by water, and thriving in that environment: “Blessed is the man who who trusts in the LORD, and whose hope is in the LORD. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river."

The prophet also counseled his displaced people to “settle in” and make a new life, instead of pining for the way things used to be: “Build houses and dwell in them, plant gardens and eat their fruit....take wives and beget sons and daughters...and seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it” (Jeremiah 29:5-7).

The person who complained “I hate this town” certainly was a candidate for such counsel. But their heart remained closed for years, nourishing bitterness.

I wish I could report a better end to this person's story, but...I'm praying. And really, the “end of the story” could still be rewritten to an outcome of hope and fulfillment. For that person. For any of us.

THE EYE-QUE OF THE BEHOLDER....

Our second-hand bookcase wasn't quite
wide enough for the entire encyclopedia set,
 thus a humorous break with a "boo"!

Grandson Number 2 was frustrated that day he came to my home after school. We'd fought our way through his arithmetic worksheet and now he had one for social studies. “I can't do it,” he whined. “Yes, we can,” I countered. “The answers are in the encyclopedias.”

Okay, for a half-way-through-grade-school kid of the internet age, encyclopedias rank up there with dinosaur bones. Ones still needing to be dug up. But I wanted him to discover that, despite their fading reputation in our internet age, encyclopedias have a lot to offer. So I led him to my home's book-cased set and helped him find what he needed to know.

I grew up before the virtual age, when “smart kids” often had home encyclopedia sets (my childhood home did!). I enjoyed looking up various topics. Yes, I know, I was different. But I did graduate as one of the top ten academically in my high school class. My only “B” grades were in physical education. (I married an elementary p.e. teacher—go figure!) And I thank my parents for encouraging me to study—and for putting out all that money for encyclopedias.

Fast-forward to marriage and children—and a teacher-husband with a similar “encyclopedia” upbringing. At one point, he decided to sell sets to bring in extra income. And he sold just enough sets for us to have our own.

Mix two children into that—a boy and girl who were encouraged to do their best at school. Yes, the home bookcase with the world's facts and figures, A-Z, occupied a prominent place in the living room. And they used them. Graduated from high school at the top of their class. Earned amazing scholarships to college.

Francis Bacon, 16^th century philosopher and statesman, is famed for this quote: “Reading maketh a full man, conference [discussion] a ready man, and writing an exact man.” If you think about it, reading takes a lot of concentration. It expands one's vocabulary and knowledge, and helps us evaluate situations we encounter in our modern world. And sitting down with a book with a succinct article about a certain subject is a sure winner for exploring questions about the world we live in—past and present.

By the way, we also invested in a mega-size world atlas. Both my son and daughter had an eighth grade teacher who emphasized map-reading and detailed work sheets. Their perception of the world went way beyond our valley, and that was a good thing.

Yet even as I advocate use of reference aids like encyclopedias and atlases, I'm grateful I've gone a step-further in reference aids for my passion: learning about God's Word. The top shelf of my desk has Bible dictionaries, commentaries, various Bible translations, and books to help me sleuth out the meaning of Hebrew and Greek words.

Would Francis Bacon have used such resources? Maybe, if available in his time. Biographers have lots of opinions about the boundaries of his religious beliefs. I won't go there. But I will agree with him that books still reign. And especially the Book above all books. I think about that as I read the end of the Gospel of John, where the aging apostle declares:

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I supposed that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written. (John 21:25)

SUN-SEEKERS

I was SO READY for spring this year, and was cheered by two gift bouquets of tulips. I put them together in one vase and placed them on a west-facing lamp table, spreading out the blooms in a circle. Later that afternoon, I was surprised to find they'd done some re-arranging of their own, all turning toward the sunshine coming through this window tracking the afternoon sun. I knew plants still in the soil sought the sun, but cut ones? The sight of those “head-turners” reminded me of comforting phrases in Psalm 34, especially these:

I sought the LORD and He delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. (vv. 4-5)

The word “radiant” especially caught my attention. Going through a season of loss and grief doesn't exactly make every day or hour a sun-shiny one. But God is teaching me to look up in faith to His love and sufficiency. And maybe to look out in faith to point those around me to the source of true joy and hope.

To be radiant, even when my days aren't all that sunny with happy connections and happenings.

Years ago, I received a number of notes and E-mails that were, well, grumpy and unappreciative. Yes, dumping on me. I knew enough of the sender's background to realize they wanted their own way instead of submitting to the Lord's discipline and better plan. Dealing with their negatives was a good exercise for me in asking whether similar behaviors were true of me. Yes, as David wrote in this psalm, to “seek the Lord.” To “look to Him.” And—in so doing, gain His perspective on fears and unmet expectations.

That last phrase of verse 5, “never covered with shame,” holds so much quiet power. In looking to the Sun of Righteousness, the shadows fade in the brilliance of His perfect love. There's another aspect to this psalm. The credits indicate David wrote it after a scary time (told in 1 Samuel 21), when he was running for his life away from mad King Saul. He was trying to hide amid some enemies—bad choice—especially since he turned up in the home territory of Goliath, the enemy giant he'd killed!

Do I still have fears, things that upset and scare me? Of course, I'm human. But I have a choice, like those crazy and lovely tulips, to seek the Light. To let the inner beauty God crafted as “me” to shine forth in the brief time I have to bloom for Him.

Sadly, my tulips wilted and had to be tossed after a few days. But I enjoyed the colors and reminders of spring's re-emergence. I reflected on the love shown me by those who gave me the tulips. And I realized God, in His grace, allowed this reminder to seek Him—the One bigger than fears or disappointments, and whose radiant Love is available to me, 24/7.

THE 'LION, THE SNATCH & THE YARD-ROBE

 Apologies to C.S. Lewis (author of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) but I think of this parody title (my invention!) of his famous allegory fiction  when spring comes. The warmer weather brings the emergence of lawn dande-LIONS that I try to SNATCH before they seed out to turn my YARD into a fluffy white ROBE of reproducing, winged seeds. Yes, I know they're pretty little flowers for little children to pick for a bouquet for mommy or grandma. (I've been blessed this way by earnest little hands.) They're fun to blow to the winds. Can't you just hear that fluffy little head saying, “Whee, free ride to another home”? But, not “pretty” for my culture's gardening ideal that considers the dandelion a weed.

So, I am thinking....do I cultivate spiritual dandelions in my life? When my heavenly Lawn-Keeper is at work in the garden of my soul, am I letting weeds like anger, resentment, discontent, slander, unfounded suspicion and such negatives sprout and spread? One sage remarked, “If you ignore little things, they'll become big problems.”

I think that fits right in with the Lord's pattern for prayer that includes “forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.” It calls for sweeping the "attitude dust" out of the heart-house, determined to minimize more re-entering. It means plucking out deceptively pretty blooms of “it's all about me” to clear the landscape for the beauty and purity of Christ to show forth.

The Prayer also includes this petition: “Lead us not into temptation,” avoiding sinful choices and attitudes which could flourish and spread. Tending the spiritual life calls for tenderheartedness regarding words and behaviors that shouldn't be. Then, an earnest desire to have God lead us away from tolerating the rogue attitudes and actions that don't belong in the garden (or lawn) of our souls.

So, apologies to C.S. Lewis for tampering with the title of his famed “Narnia” fantasy fiction. It was part of parent/childhood reading for my son and daughter. Not only had I previously read the series myself, but back about 1980 I saw the actual Lewis family wardrobe (stand-alone closet) made famous as an imagined entrance to “Narnia.” Purchased in England, brought to the U.S., it was then located in a dedicated archive room of the Wheaton College library. A photo of it here:

cs lewis wardrobe at wheaton college - Search Images

THAT HAPPY PLACE

 A huge green plastic turtle—so old its eyes have faded away—has occupied the backyard for decades. In the 1980s, it delighted a little boy and later a little girl, who found sand to be fun and creative. (Because its lid was faithfully replaced at night, I never worried about animal waste finding its way to the sand!) Now that my grandchildren have passed the age of sand-play at that old turtle-box, it's time to let it go to a new home. But not without first reflecting on just what is a “happy place.”

Of course, I think about how the Bible defines “happy.” Psalm 144:15 says, “Happy are the people whose God is the Lord.” Similar truths are expressed in others: 20 Bible Verses about Happiness - Uplifting Scripture Quotes . But in reflecting on the word “happy” in its spiritual sense, I'm often taken to a famed quote by Frederick Buechner (1916-2022):

The place where God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. (1)

Ironically, Buechner's father died of suicide when he was only ten years old. But he emerged from that childhood trauma to become a well-known Presbyterian minister and author of 39 books. One writer characterized Buechner as showing “faith despite doubt.” Among his famed quotes:

*”If it seems a childish thing to do, do it in remembrance that you are a child.” (So yes, help a child build a sand castle! And remember the importance of childlike faith and trust in God.)

*”Pay mind to your own life, your own health, and wholeness. A bleeding heart is of no help to anyone if it bleeds to death.”

*”Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing.” (Have you seen that on a gravestone? I think it fits.)

*”Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin.” 

This reminded me of another quote, by Henri J.M. Nouwen, (1932-1996), and how life's trials can be redeemed if they turn us into “wounded healers”:

Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not 'How can we hide our wounds?' so we don't have to be embarrassed but 'How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?' When our wounds cease to be a source of shame and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.” (2)

Have you ever considered what sand used to be? Rocks! But when rocks are broken and eroded, they take on new purposes. They can even become sand for a child's play-place of imagination. Where tiny cars and trucks find new highways. Mountains and valleys emerge for a new world. And when there's water around, an imagined little city or park.

And maybe there's another message here. When the Hand of God is moving around the sands of our lives, will we allow Him to create a masterpiece for His glory?

(1) Quote by Frederick Buechner: “The place God calls you to is the place where y...”

(2) Quote by Henri Nouwen: “Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounde...”

BY NAME

Decades ago, someone gave me this mug bearing the correct spelling for my name. I gratefully “wear” this name as it honors my father, John, for which “Jeanne” is a feminine form. And “John” is Hebrew for “God is gracious.” Certainly the idea of “God's grace” fit the reaction of a really-old first-time mom and dad, Elizabeth and Zachariah, whose baby boy "John" would be a cousin to Jesus. In fact, John's parents didn't name that baby. God did via the angel who announced the upcoming, miracle pregnancy (Luke 1:13, 63).

My dad's mother (named “Alvina,” meaning “noble friend”) died in 1927 when he was twelve years old. I was told that she had pneumonia, deadly in those days before antibiotics. She left three children (my dad was the oldest), and a deeply bereaved home. My middle name is my mother's name, Irene, which is Greek for “peace.” She was the oldest of nine born into poverty in a log cabin on a homestead in eastern Montana. Her father was a Norwegian immigrant; her mother had polio and was left with one leg shorter than the other. Yet despite that disability, she raised nine children (three girls, six boys) amid the hardships of primitive farm life. Yes, my name reminds me of my heritage.

So why all this chatter about names? Maybe because one of my favorite Bible passages in Isaiah speaks of names and God's intimate connection with His own. Although the passage addressed the nation Israel during its troubled history, it also speaks of God's character in loving and protecting those of us centuries later who look to Him as our Creator, Provider, and Savior:

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze....You are precious and honored in my sight... I love you. (Isaiah 43:1b-2)

This passage especially reminds me of the Exodus story of how a huge people group was miraculously released from crippling Egyptian slavery to begin a long trek to freedom and a new life. Forty arduous, miracle-filled years later, this infant nation stepped into the Jordan River, whose waters miraculously parted. Fathers, mothers, children of all ages went forward for what must have been a scary yet exuberant crossing over a bare riverbed to a yet-unseen new homeland.

This is known history! It is also a record of the Divine Plan. Those thousands that participated in the long and miracle-saturated desert “exodus” learned how helpless they were without the help of God. This wasn't some man-planned expedition. It was a God-plan. These people weren't numbers to God. Each mattered. He knew each by name.

Did you pause at the boldfaced phrase quoted above? God didn't whistle for us (like livestock) or ring a bell or buzzer (like we heard in school!). He knows our names—the ones we like, maybe the ones we didn't. But he sees past the human naming ritual, even past our disappointing sin choices, to call us by loving names: Mine. Precious. Honored, My Love. Imagine those names on your mug! That would be my go-to mug, every day!

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I wondered if someone had come up with a song based on Isaiah 43:1, and the answer is “yes.” Click here: Bing Videos

TRUMPETS SHALL SOUND!

Daffodils in spring gladden my heart like nothing else. I grew up in Western Washington’s Puyallup Valley, which for decades has celebrated that flower with a parade and outstanding teen girls chosen as “daffodil royalty.” But for me, it’s more than a spring party. The trumpeted golden flowers to me speak of the glory of God. This time of year, I often search for You-Tube excerpts of the solo, “The Trumpet shall Sound,” from Handel’s Messiah. Nothing grips my heart like its straight-from-scripture lyrics: about the someday-beginning of forever-life with God:

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. (1 Corinthians 15:52 KJV)

Along with the prospect of a sudden rush to eternity comes the self-examination in anticipation of the searing, pure eyes of a Holy God. Have I glorified Him with my life? Have I sought to serve Him? Did people see Jesus in Me? Or did I throw away my opportunities, instead spending my time in worthless activities? In our media-saturated culture, which connects the number of Facebook “followers” with status, that's an uncomfortable question.

Maybe I should rephrase this: If God read your Facebook posts, how would you feel?

I've come to appreciate the spiritual insights of Christian pastor and author A.W. Tozer (1897-1963). He spoke and wrote widely of the deeper inner spiritual life. When asked about the perception of “holiness” as a “negative kind of piety” that people shy away from, Tozer replied:

No, of course not! Holiness in the Bible means moral wholeness—a positive quality which actually includes kindness, mercy, purity, moral blamelessness and godliness. It is always thought to be of in a positive, white intensity of degree.*

A former pastor (now deceased) one year ministered healing words through a daily devotional based on a read-through-the-Bible calendar. His widow sent me a copy of the printed devotions, and it has enriched my Bible study for now a second year. He died before the predicted “final trumpet sound” when Christ returns again. But...could I hear it in my lifetime? I don't know. I do know this: every day is closer.

For several years a church I once attended had a very senior pastor on staff for “visitation.” He outlived two wives, dying in his nineties! But I was told that in his last year, in a little bedroom suite he shared with his third wife at a senior home, there was a note on their door: “Perhaps today.”

We who knew him, knew his meaning: Jesus might come before he died. Well, he died. But those two words continue to come to mind as eternity gets closer. Especially they revisit every spring, when the earth awakens and my favorite flowers inch up with their golden, trumpet crowns.

Earth-words cannot adequately describe the worship culture of Heaven. But angels with trumpets are prominently mentioned. Yes, the trumpet shall sound—infinitely louder and more joyful than the golden but mute daffodils of spring.

*A.W. Tozer, I Call It Heresy (Harrisburg, PA: Christian Publications, 1974). p. 63.

This short video (at the beginning) highlights the trumpet solo from Handel's Messiah:

Bing Videos

GOOD FRIDAY'S 'ALAS!'

The man who wrote the classic 18^th century Good Friday hymn, “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed,” was well-acquainted with rejection himself. His rejection, however, was from a woman's withdrawn love, not necessarily from his contemporaries. In fact, Isaac Watts (1674-1748) was what we'd today call a genius, a prolific and popular hymn writer (credited with some 750 hymns) and essayist.

Quickly, the backstory on his life. He was born in 1674 in Southampton, England, in a time of religious controversy. His father's dissenting views with the state church led twice to imprisonment. Biographers tell of Isaac's mother nursing baby Isaac as she sat outside the prison near his father's cell window.

As Watts grew, his genius unfolded. Even in early childhood he had a knack for rhyme which both amused and frustrated his parents. When scolded for keeping his eyes open during prayers, he replied: “A little mouse for want of stairs, ran up a rope to say its prayers.” Even after a spanking for his rhyming habit, he replied, “O father, father, pity take/And I will no more verses make.”

Because his family's theological stance was “non-conformist,” he couldn't attend the Anglican-restricted universities of Oxford or Cambridge, but instead was educated at the “Dissenting Academy.” He pastored a large independent chapel a few years, but poor health forced him to quit. Instead, he worked as a private tutor, eventually becoming a permanent resident at one of his clients' estate.

His prolific writing output included many books about the Bible, theology, logic and other topics. Add to that the huge output of hymns, including many still sung today: “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “Joy to the World,” “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” “Jesus Shall Reign Wherever the Son,” and today's feature, “Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed.”

He also wrote a book of songs that became the first hymnal ever published only for children. He loved children, but sadly never married or became a father. He did have a girlfriend, of sorts, a fan of his works whom he met by letter. When she finally traveled to meet him, she was put off by his less-than-handsome appearance. Small (five feet tall) and frail, he had a huge head and a long-hooked nose. Sadly, that ended her “crush” on him.

Frail in health, for his last thirty-plus years Watts lived with a nobleman friend (and later the friend's widow and daughter), never to know the centuries-long impacts of his hymn-writing. Notably, about 1850—a hundred years after Watts died—a 30-year-old blind woman went to a revival service in New York City. There, she heard a choir sing Watts' hymn, “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed?” The hymn stirred her heart, especially the last line, “Here, Lord, I give my life away.” That day, she gave her life to Jesus. Her name: Fanny Crosby. Living to age 95, she would become the greatest gospel lyric composer of her time—by some sources, writing more than 8,000 hymns.

SEASON'S GREETINGS!

Christmas, of course, is when the phrase “Season's Greetings” penetrates our culture. I know what people are trying to say, like: “The weather outside is awful, but all those gifts under the tree make things awesome.” So what sort of greetings are appropriate for spring? Please, not “the Easter bunny's comin' tonight.” For me, spring's first smiles are the warm days and earth awakening. The first crocus. Puttin' away the snow boots. Pruning the roses. Looking upward, to the blue sky, and thinking, Oh, God, all this You created. I cannot imagine Your smile as Your plan of beauty emerged.

To borrow from King Solomon and his famous “love ode”:

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone,

Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come. (Song of Solomon 2:11)

Yes, I know, he wasn't giving a weather report for the six o'clock news. Instead, his hormones were bubbling for a certain young lady whose love he craved. But maybe there's a lesson here beneath his poetry.

This winter, two friends lost their husbands. I've been down that lonely road, and while I can offer hugs and words of care, it's a journey we must take in our own way, leaning heavily into Jesus. “Lover of My Soul.”

If that last phrase stirred up some old memories of a hymn, you're right. It goes back to about 1740 when Charles Wesley penned those words shortly after accepting Jesus as His Lord and Savior. Its verses tell of seeking courage and comfort in Jesus when trials come. When the winter of hard times fades. When we can begin to see what God can do with our sorrows and disappointments. Stop for a minute and reflect or sing along about “Jesus, Lover of My Soul”: Bing Videos

The crocus blossom that faithfully pops up every spring by my front sidewalk reminds me of that. When we put away our snow boots and Christmas carols, we didn't put away all our reasons to sing and praise God. This is Easter month! Even as we can rejoice in flowers re-emerging, we can be astounded again by the beauty of this truth: He is risen, just as He said. And just as the angel triumphantly announced to the women who came to anoint a decaying body, and were shocked by the most amazing news ever.

Surely, “the season of singing has come” and we don't need to wait for “Easter Sunday” to proclaim that: Christ the Lord has risen today...Alleluia

Join these singers on You Tube: Bing Videos

HIGHLIGHTING...THE HIGHLIGHTER

Today's college student can “rent” an online book—unlike my “era” when long lines for textbook-buying snaked out of the college bookstore at the beginning of each term. The most prized copies—cheaper to buy—had the sticker “used” on them. They also typically had generous colored markings inside, thanks to “highlighter markers.” The more markings, the lower the resell value.

We of the Highlighter Generation can thank a chemist named Dr. Frank Honn, who in 1963 (my high school junior year) invented what became a ubiquitous study tool. However, early “highlighters” tended to bleed through thin paper, which included my Bible. In time, a waxy highlighter became available and my go-to for Bible-marking.

Today, those Bible-marking “highlights” re-tell something of my spiritual history. Once I broke away from the thinking that I shouldn't write in my Bible, it became a poignant record of my times with God and sermons that touched my heart. My first Bible (King James Version) was my dad's Bible from young adulthood, a gift from his Sunday school teacher. Its front-page inscription is dated Dec. 25, 1935, meaning my dad was 20 years old.

I know little of my dad's early history other than his mother died (probably of pneumonia in those pre-antibiotic days) when he was 12. His dad worked for the railroad, and desperately needed help caring for his small children. Thus his dad quickly married a single co-worker (a railroad cook) who practiced a ritualistic faith, not that of Dad's birth mother. After high school, Dad attended college in his hometown, finding a church home where Bible-reading mattered.

Years later, when I was 8 or 9, Dad gave me that Bible to take to church and Sunday school. It was, however, more a “prop” for “who-brought-their-Bible-today” checks. But Dad's old Bible was, well, old, with tiny type with lots of “ye,” “thee” and “thou.” 

Ninety years later after he acquired it, I still have it (along with a “New King James,” “Revised Standard Version,” “Living Bible,” “Amplified New Testament,” “New American Standard,” and my personal study Bible, New International Version. Sometimes, in reaching for my dad's King James version, I'll read the first-page inscription in red pencil by his long-ago Sunday school teacher. It says:

This marked copy of God's sure Word is given you as a prize for your faithful attendance at Sunday school. Another prize is promised you in this book for faithfulness to God wants you to find: “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Romans 2:10).

With the same red pencil, his teacher had highlighted thirty key verses or sections of the Bible—one third in the Old Testament, two-thirds in the New. His Sunday school teacher did not sign the inscription. I sometimes wonder about him or her. But I'm grateful that this person took the time to emphasize the value of a Bible to a young adult in a Sunday school class—one who lost a loving parent and needed a spiritual mentor to highlight vital truths from God.

Readers...do you have a “personal Bible” story?

*Carter's Ink Company produced the first pens, trademarked Hi-Liter (c); In 1975 Avery Dennison Corporation acquired Carter's and took on highlighter production.

JUST LISTENING

 

I stepped out the front door that early morning, looked down the street, and just listened. The birds of early spring were whistling, chortling, cawing, tweeting, and more..... We get so used to our "natural surroundings" that I suspect we forget that they, too, can praise their Creator.

Among Biblical reminders:

*Meadows (“clothed with flocks of sheep”) and valleys (“carpeted with grain”) “all shout and sing for joy!” (Psalm 65:13 NLT)

*As we look “up”: “The heavens declare the glory of God' the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.” (Psalm 19:1-2)

*Watching the heaving waves, hearing the thunder of the surf and the whispering retreating waves: “The seas have lifted up their voice” (Psalm 93:3)

*The whole landscape: “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy” (Psalm 96:11-12).

As a still-single young adult (age 31), six months apart I lost my parents to cancer and a heart attack. In that difficult “next year” of grief plus re-homing their belongings and selling their home, I had to make many trips across one of the passes of majestic Mount Rainier. Near the summit, there was a turnoff that I gladly took for a driver's break. As I got out of the car, there rearing above me, in glistening splendor, was the state's trademark mountain. As I paused, I listened to my heart in awe of this sight reminding me of the power and strength of its Creator.

I had memorized much of Psalm 139, and several verses revisited as I considered the mountain grandeur:

Verse 5: God knew the past and the future: “You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”

Verses 8-10: Wherever I go—the heights, the depths, beyond the dawn, on the far side of the sea, “even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

Washington's tallest mountain (a “sleeping volcano”) was worshiped by Native Americans, who called it “Tahoma.” (Strangely, it was later named "Rainier" by a British naval officer who surveyed Washington's coast and decided to give the mountain his friend's name. The friend never saw it in person!) I can understand their awe for a magnificent structure of creation. It helped me “lift mine eyes unto the hills” (Psalm 121), past my earth-bound worries and concerns, to my Creator.

I suspect too often we slam off the alarm, rush through the morning hygiene tasks, grab a breakfast and run to start our days. But now, in early mornings, the earth beckons me to pause and listen to the distinct voices the Creator gave the different bird species.

Maybe it's just me, but the gentle sunrise stillness especially draws me to worship. The cool, the dew, the chirps and chortles of winged life--just listening prompts my heart to praise the Creator.