REMEMBERING....

Okay, so I'm a Mom Photoholic. The short hall between bedrooms and living room in my home is a portrait gallery, with family photos nearly all the years since our 1981 marriage. Yep, wedding photo, then with a newborn and then a second baby, all the way through their graduations, weddings and grandchildren. Some were taken by local photographers (like ones who long-ago worked out of corners of Wal-Mart, Penney's, and Sears!). Others came off personal cameras. My “recliner-rocker,” diagonally across the living room, has a full view of the “gallery.” Just about every day, from my recliner viewpoint, I look across and silently pray, “Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness of 'family.'”

The last “family photo” was taken three months before my husband died. But that doesn't mean more “family chapters” aren't being written. Recently in reading Psalm 143, I paused at this verse:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (Psalm 143:5)

What's not being captured on a camera is still being captured in my heart.

In reading psalms, I'm mindful of the beginning attributions of many chapters. Psalm 143 doesn't have one but it speaks plaintively in verse 3 of being pursued by an enemy and having to “dwell in darkness” (likely meaning a cave). Obviously, David's referring to being pursued by murder-focused King Saul. But that verse is followed up by one beginning “I remember,” quoted above.

Despite his dire circumstances, David wasn't stuck in memories of “life the way it used to be.” He admitted feeling glum and weary of his negative circumstances:

Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit faints with longing. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. (v. 7)

BUT....he quickly switches to hope:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” (v. 8)

The contrasts of hopelessness and hope, of dark and light, endear this psalm to me. I haven't had to literally hide in a cave from an enemy. (The closest I got to a “cave” were two “basement bedroom” living situations when I was still single!) But I've endured difficult life chapters with challenging people. At such times I understood and claimed David's closing verse in that psalm:

For your name's sake; O LORD, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies...for I am your servant (v. 12).

David may have had to dwell temporarily in caves, but he was no gruff  “caveman of old.” His outlook was “up”--to a heavenly Father—who knew exactly what was going on and had great plans for David. In time, He would answer as David prayed:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Maybe that's a good description of my “family portrait wall” Year by year, the children grew older (as did their parents). We had good years, and bad years (like the year we were nearly killed by a drunk driver). But the photos continue to remind me: He has never forsaken me. And my heart is stirred to praise.

SPLAT!

My garage door recently sported some modern art before I used a wet rag to wipe it off. Either a feathered friend mistook the door's blue paint for sky or just wasn't paying attention to its route. I didn't find a dead bird nearby, so I hope he only suffered a slightly bruised chest and got on with life in the sky. I was fairly certain the bird wouldn't look for a wet rag to clean it up—so I did.

The unwelcome mess reminded me of other “splats” I'd experienced—the “splats” of mean and hurtful words. I'm not the type to go around yelling and insulting people in person or in written or virtual form. Yet for some reason, another's untrue and unsought mean words found their target with me. When I reacted, they retorted with excuses like, “I'm sorry you feel that way,” “You're too sensitive,” or “I didn't mean it like that.” Such replies attempted to bounce blame back onto me rather than acknowledging their own negative behavior causing the problem.

Weary of “splats,” I finally wrote this person a letter (which others read beforehand to assure its “kindness” tone), expressing how their anger and false accusations wounded me. After my backing away from that relationship, the "splats" decreased. 

Abandoning relationships isn't my to-go behavior. I thought of how patient Jesus was with people with problems. But when people in Jesus' life (like the Pharisees) persisted in their negatives, He drew a holy line. In my case, after prayer and seeking scripture's wisdom, I sensed the Lord permitting me to let go. His command to “love one another” didn't mandate being a continual negative target. Instead, putting down relationship “boundaries” might awaken reality in a person who habitually vented their unhappiness on others. Or who tossed out a “sorry” reply without the backup of personal reflection or accountability to change.

These times of computers and smart phones, we often hear the saying, “There's an 'ap' for that,” meaning you can download virtual instructions to achieve a task. I find “aps” for quitting “splats” throughout scripture, especially in Proverbs, which speaks so honestly to human behaviors:

Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. (Proverbs 16:24)

Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper [my translation: doesn't go 'splat'] than one who takes a city. (Proverbs 16:32)

A man of knowledge uses words with restraint, and a man of understanding is even-tempered. (Proverbs 17:27)

Anti-splat instructions aren't limited to Proverbs. They're illustrated throughout scripture's stories and counsel, with healing words given a five-star rating:

Do not let any unwholesome [the Greek term is “saphros,” meaning “putrid”] talk come out of your mouth, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen (Ephesians 4:29)

The same passage gets painfully specific about a Christ-follower getting rid of “bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (v. 31).

Splat! Think of the, well, “body waste” a bird gifted my garage door. The cure is a cleansing cloth dipped in kindness, compassion, and forgiveness—remembering our own Cross-purchased gift of forgiveness from the Lord Jesus Christ (v. 32).

THOSE 'SOUR' SORRYS

 My young-mother years sometimes required settling sibling disagreements. This often ended by my requiring brother and sister to apologize face-to-face in the hall between their rooms. Whatever else could be credited (certainly the Lord's help!), I'm grateful they grew up to be good friends and responsible citizens!

Spats between young children are inevitable as they learn to navigate life. What has saddened me are the apologies (of sorts) I've experienced from adults who, it seems, had too much “save face” blocking the path of genuine repentance. Their replies went like this: “Sorry I got mad at you, but I was having a bad day.” Or, “Sorry to offend you. I didn't mean to set you off.”

I call them “Sour Sorrys” and they are nothing new. One Biblical example: Saul, a tall, handsome guy who had a good start (at least from the “looks” of it) to be Israel's first king. But as his royal life softened with extra wives and servants, fame went to his head. He got so jealous of David, God's choice for the next king (instead of Saul's son), that he repeatedly sent assassins David's way. One time, he asked that they capture David alive—at home in bed--so Saul could have the honor of killing David himself!

Then Saul sent the men back to see David [after David had escaped one assassination attempt] and told them, 'Bring him up to me in his bed so that I may kill him.' (1 Samuel 19:15)

Like, how low can you go?

A little later, Saul's anger toward an elusive David caught up. One hot day, while combing the desert to find and kill David, Saul went into a cave “to relieve himself” (1 Samuel 24:3), probably meaning he needed a quick, private "rest stop" in the coolness of the cave. Saul didn't know David was in the same cave, and could have quickly killed him. Instead, David chose the higher road of not harming the king.

This is when I turn to Psalm 63, one of many that David is believed to have written during his lonely, scary time as a wilderness refugee before becoming king himself. The psalm has this preface: “A psalm of David, when he was in the desert of Judah.” As a shepherd, David knew how to survive in the parched, dirty desert without today's “cool-packs,” cell phones and camper snacks. But he also had a God who was watching him. He expressed it in this psalm:

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me....You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways....(Psalm 139:1, 3)

This psalm and the one preceding it bring me hope and comfort when I deal with those who can't say “sorry” from the heart. Who can't honestly admit, “God has shown me my sins against you” nor name at least a few of them as part of the apology. Instead, they revert to “save-face” admissions—some of which we've seen in recent high-profile crime cases.

“Sorry” has become such a feeble word. It's more than “sorry, excuse me,” like when you try to avoid smashing someone's feet or purse-slugging heads when you're moving down a row of chairs to an empty seat. For deep emotional and spiritual hurts, just saying “sorry” is like a band-aid on an open surgical wound. Old Testament Hebrew has several words for “sorry,” including one whose meaning includes the idea of sighing or breathing strongly, such as when the words one needs to say are painful to get out. That's intense “sorry.”

Sadly, when we are wronged, we won't always hear a genuine “sorry” (with sorrow, from which we get our word “sorry”) from the offender. But God knows our anxious thoughts (Psalm 139:23) and hasn't stopped His intention to “lead [us] in the way everlasting” (v. 24). And that includes resolving differences...His holy way.

THE PAIN OF PEARLS

Ow! A splinter in my thumb. I didn't invite it, but it came....and how it hurt—both its “residence” and the hole left behind when I dug it out with a sewing needle and tweezers. That ordinary “injury” came to mind when I learned how pearls are formed. Yes, I knew they came from oysters, but what starts the process? The answer: pain. More specifically, a foreign object (like a grain of sand) that an oyster can't expel back into the water. In defense, it secretes layers of calcium carbonate and a protein called “conchiolin” that covers over the foreign item, in time producing a pearl. It can take anywhere from six months to three years for an oyster to produce the pearl of a size commonly used in jewelry.

I'm glad I'm not an oyster! But learning that nature fact prompted me to think about my response to intrusive pain. Like hardship, loss, or an unwelcome task. Or unpleasant, demanding, “entitled” people who make life, well, painful. I also thought about Jesus' short parable about a pearl:

The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it. (Matthew 13:45-46)

The interpretation of this parable? Bible scholars find two ways to look at it. One is that this exceptional, valuable pearl is God's gift of eternal life in Jesus Christ. He is worth putting our “all” out for a life-changing discovery and eternal spiritual riches. Note that this parable (similar to the one that precedes it, about a man finding buried treasure in an old field, which became his by buying the field) involves recognizing the value of the “find.”

Another viewpoint suggests the merchant represents the Lord Jesus. The “pearl of great price” (notice the adjective “great”) is the church. To purchase this pearl, He gave His life on a splintered executioner's cross. Similarly to how a pearl is formed inside an oyster's shell through an irritation (like a grain of sand), the church began its formation through fatal wounding of the Savior's earthly body. Thus, the “pearl of great price” is the church.

Whichever viewpoint one takes, this truth remains: the authentic spiritual life will involve pain. That which we don't want—conflict, difficult relationships, financial distress—may be the “sand inside the shell” that causes pain. We can choose to sit at the bottom of the “sea of despair” and complain about our pain. Or we can welcome the healing “coverings” of faith in Christ to turn our pain into something of spiritual beauty.

If you're interested in the largest pearls ever found, check this website:

9 Largest Pearls Ever Found - Largest.org