LABELS

I still chuckle over certain scenes from the 1965 film, “The Sound of Music,” featuring an inexperienced but perceptive novice-turned nanny, “Maria,” played by Julie Andrews. She's come to the mansion of a widowed military captain and his seven children, who are are summoned (by military whistle) to line up like soldiers, by age, to meet her. 

One by one, they step forward to announce their name, plus the behavioral labels either their father or previous nanny had given them.(1) One of the boys says, I”m Friedrich and I'm impossible.” Another says, “I'm Kurt, I'm eleven and I'm incorrigible.” Then he asks the new nanny, “What does 'incorrigible' mean?” The new nanny replies that it's a term for “someone who wants to be treated as a boy.”

In viewing that movie clip recently (oh, the warm fuzzy memories of that film) I found myself remembering labels others gave me. Graduating high school in the top ten of my class, I glowed under the labels of “scholar” and “concert-mistress of the orchestra.” As the years progressed, with more education and jobs, I was encouraged and motivated by those who recognized my passions, hard work, and desire to work as a “team member” in the company or academic setting.

But God wasn't finished with me. He led me into other chapters of life around people who couldn't push past life's difficult places, and who unfairly blamed others for their failures and unhappiness. I wearied from dealing with their anger issues and blaming behaviors. These trials also pushed me closer to my Heavenly Father, Who knew my heart and also heard my continuing prayers for such people. His Spirit's role as “Comforter” became more real.

This topic has recently returned to my heart as I re-read a classic Christian “journey” book. Most people know about John Bunyan's allegory, “Pilgrim's Progress” (first published 1678) and its main character's refining trials on the journey to the “Celestial City” (Heaven). The book I read, Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard (copyright 1955), is much like it. The main character named “Much Afraid” journeys through danger and hard terrain to the “High Place” that is an analogy for Heaven. “Much Afraid” doesn't travel alone, but with two companions named “Sorrow” and “Suffering.” After she reaches the summit, conquering her many fears, she returns to her valley of service, transformed by her trials and now given a new name by her loving Shepherd.

As you might guess, the Shepherd is symbolic of the Lord Jesus, and her journey up the mountain (to grow in faith through trials) is simply preparation to return to her valley in service to Him.

If you've never read these books, consider doing so. Allegories about the Christian walk are powerful teachers—and incentives for our own “pilgrim's progress” which may push us onward through the tedious spiritual journey of “this world” to the heaven-pointing “High Places” closer to God. It's what turns “incorrigible” into the “possible” of a mature relationship with God. To a someday celestial scene where we can step forward and say, “I'm (name), and I am beloved in His sight.”

Speaking of names, don't forget the golden clue Revelation 2:17 gives us about names in Heaven: “To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone with a new name written on it, which no one knows except the one who receives it.”

By the way, the main character of Hinds' Feet on High Places, at the end of the book is given a new name. No longer known as “Much Afraid,” she becomes “Grace and Glory.” How fitting, How beautiful.

(1) Enjoy this memorable “Sound of Music” movie scene again online: Bing Videos

HOW BEAUTIFUL...

Yes, how beautiful, the first roses of spring in my yard. Each a unique creation, with delicately painted petals that display water droplets like diamonds.

I guess I'm in a poetic mood this morning, surveying the flowers and grass, noticing the gray sky will probably provide the “watering” today instead of my yard hoses. I've lived or worked earlier in life in what would be called the “concrete jungles”--the packed together office buildings, crowded sidewalks and congested, grimy streets. Now, I'm grateful for dirt and grass...and flowers.

It's not perfect. Vermin—rats--have dug under my house and I'm diligently trying to get rid of them. Yes, it was unnerving to realize this—when I heard “skittering” in the hall ceiling and then a stampede up the wall between the bathroom tub and kitchen sink. The battle of “bad bait” began. It seems to be working.

For all the decades I've lived in this small city, this is my first big experience with the “yucks” of rodents. At one time, there was a huge vacant lot behind my home. No doubt “critters” abundantly homesteaded there. Our cat nabbed a few! Then the land was bulldozed to put in stacks of townhouses. Guess where the disturbed vermin migrated.....

Yes, I sense a lesson in this. How we want our lives perfect, free of care and danger that “chew” at our well-being and leave emotional debris behind. But we live in a word tainted by sin and people who chew at what we value: our “person-hood” and self esteem, our safety, our hope. We want full “eradication” of such spiritual enemies. It's in the Divine Plan—but not yet. Only in the perfect spiritual timeline when Jesus returns to reign.

From time to time, science and photography provide us with breathtaking photos of our home planet, like these: photos of earth from space - Search Such views were unimaginable to people among whom Jesus lived during His earth-time, eking out a living in a mostly-barren landscape.

Our globe still has places where few can live: deserts, dangerous swamps, and places destroyed by war.

But we still have places where we can plant beauty. Not just flowers and crops (ever marveled at the wind pushing waves across a field of grain?), but the everyday living of kind words and actions. Refusing to let the “vermin” of ill will or unrealistic expectations spoil the possibility of peace and harmony. And then—how beautiful, the family of God.

Listen to Twila Paris sing “How Beautiful” here in a 2011 recording (skip through the first unrelated ads):

Bing Videos

GOT GUTTATION?

Unless you're a biology whiz, I'll bet you've never heard the term “guttation.” It has nothing to do with cleaning the innards (“gutting”) of a freshly-caught fish, in preparation for cooking it for dinner. Instead, “guttation” is the releasing (the scientific word is “exudation”) of drops of fluid from the tips or edges of leaves of some “vascular plants” and fungi. The “vascular plants” are so called because they have tissues that help a plant transport water, minerals and nutrients—something like the human body. These include species like club-mosses, horsetails, ferns, and some seed plants. If this subject gets you excited, you can learn the basics at this web site: typical vascular plants - Search

This photo doesn't nail it for illustrating “guttation,” as the plant shown didn't necessarily have the “veins” to release all this hydration—just a waxy surface to hold rainwater droplets for a while. But “guttation” is a real thing in the plant world. It's also somewhat of an analogy of a Biblical principle, that giving from overflow reflects God's abundant blessings and generosity.

Probably the best-known Bible verse of abundant giving is this:

“Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” (Malachi 3:10)

Others:

“Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)

“God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9:8)

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us.” (Ephesians 3:20)

My head spun a bit to learn about circulation systems in growing green things. I took biology in high school and college, but the facts I absorbed didn't apply to my vocation. They got buried (like dead plants!) Still, there's a whole world of discovery out there regarding God's immeasurably complex and delightful creation. Like plants that have “transport systems,” akin to the veins and arteries threading through our own bodies.

To bring this to a spiritual close--”Got godly guttation?” Am I responding to God's overflow of blessing, hope, and ability by reaching out to my parched world?

NATURE'S PARADE

Azaleas in my yard

As I write (early May) it's festival time in my valley. Every year, in celebration of spring and my home valley's orchard industry, promoters put on an “Apple Blossom Festival” with teen “royalty” and three parades (classic cars, youth-focused entries, and the grander 100-entry state-wide floats and marching bands). Oh yes, also a food festival which takes over the huge, well-groomed courthouse lawn for a couple weeks. (It recovers, thanks to diligent groundskeepers.) The influx of tourist dollars helps the economy. And yes, it is a sort of “whew” that bids goodbye to winter's chill and hello to spring and summer delights.

I smile to see my son continue some family festival traditions from his childhood. One is buying his family the finger-dusting pastry creation that's basically a glob of dough dribbled into hot oil, then sprinkled with powdered sugar. We know it as “funnel cakes”; it's a variation of the Italian chiacchiere-- messy to eat, but who's to quarrel with an annual tradition​?

It's sensory overload—all the classic cars, floats and their waving community “queens,” bands, drill teams, horses, carnival food, plus a real visiting “carnival” at one end of town with its classic array of noisy thriller rides.

Our local event reminds me of the first parade I remember attending, probably around age five, in the early 1950s. My family at that time lived about an hour's drive from the famed Rose Parade in Pasadena. My dad was able to buy reserved bleacher seats, which enabled us “little ones” to really see the parade going by. I have dim memories of my television Western heroes—Roy and Dale Rogers—waving while riding the same beautiful horses used on their then-black-and-white TV Western adventure show.

Yes, parades are exciting and glamorous. But there's a quiet parade I enjoy even more. It happens every spring in my yard when the grass, shrubs and flowers awaken from their winter naps. Color returns—not just green, but red, orange, pink, yellow. I recall this quote by Thomas Merton (1915-1968), an American Trappist monk, mystic, poet, and author:

Let us come alone to the splendor that is all around us, and see the beauty in ordinary things.

Rhododendron in my yard

Those “ordinary things” include nature's floral beauty....plus things like the morning light, a bird singing a greeting to the sunrise, a shared meal, and quiet connections. It's simpler life without the television blaring or fighting rush-hour traffic on the highway.

It's okay to come together as a community and celebrate. Besides my city's festival, another city about 30 miles west celebrates even more. Leavenworth has a spring “Mai fest” with the ribbon-winding pole dance. Its “Oktoberfest,” besides the ooh-and-ah of mountain landscapes turning yellow and red, amps up the Bavarian music with performances of the long alpenhorns. Its “Winter Karneval” with half a million downtown lights marks a German tradition back to the 13^th century.

Community spirit is a good thing. But beyond such celebrations, we should never lose sight of the ability to celebrate heaven's blessings. All around us are good and celebration-worthy gifts: sky, water, plants and trees, friendships and family--generously God-provided.

SURPRISE!

Who would have expected this—a pert little pansy squeezing out of a cement crack in my home's foundation? Yet there it was, just inches from the porch that leads to my front door. I didn't plant it, though “nature” might have, via last year's “pansy family” just across the walkway in wooden pots. Those former plants, removed after the first frost, had just been replaced with new, just-blooming pansies punched out of a plant nursery's plastic tray “starting bed.” My tiny surprise “volunteer” had to be an offspring of last year's pansies, somehow wind-seeded there and now growing out of the “crack.”

My surprise pansy won't last long. It gets full afternoon sun and will soon wither. But it will help me smile for a week or so as I go in and out of the house. It reminded me of an old saying about resilience: “Bloom where you are planted.” Even though I didn't plant this particular flower, it celebrated its “pansy personality” in the most unlikely way.

“Bloom” can be a verb meaning “to open, blossom, sprout, or mature.” The saying is often a metaphor for people who thrive despite challenging environments. Their lives aren't perfect—maybe because of a family situation or their own problems—but the possibility of shining-forth in the world is still out there. They adapt. Persist. Produce fruit (or blooms) despite life's tough places. Bring special beauty to this often ragged world.

We don't always have a choice in where our lives are “planted.” Family tragedies, poor personal choices, and things beyond our control may plop us in a “life garden” we never expected. But God remains the Master Gardener. His “garden care” for life includes:

*Staying rooted in Him, focused on growing spiritual strength, not on our circumstances.

*Becoming fruitful wherever He plants us. Classic spiritual quote on this: Jeremiah 17:7-8—the passage that starts with God's declaration, “For I know the plans I have for you”--with its analogy of a tree planted by a nourishing source of water.

Before long, the heat coming off the cement sidewalk will “cook “ this pansy to a withered stem. Yet--despite its brief life of blooming in a very unlikely, hostile place—I am grateful. It didn't pout or complain. It just lifted up its happy face to declare in a quiet way: No matter how long I last, despite my negative “planting place,” I will do what I was created to do: glorify God the Creator.

By the way, the saying “Bloom where you are planted” is quite old, attributed to St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), Bishop of Geneva. He's recorded as saying this: “Truly charity has no limit; for the love of God has been poured into our hearts by His Spirit dwelling in each one of us, calling us to a life of devotion and inviting us to bloom in the garden where he has planted and directing us to radiate the beauty and spread the fragrance of His Providence.”

DANDELIONS--AGAIN

Here they are: a dandelion family waiting to be evacuated from a lawn. My fingers and poker-tool are not their only enemy. You learn something every day, and though I don't hang around with folks with vibrant green thumbs (real smart gardeners), I've discovered that I can battle my lawn's dandelions without products bearing skull-and-crossbones warnings on them. The natural remedy: vinegar. More accurately, “horticultural vinegar,” which is 20% acetic acid as compared with the 5% acetic strength in my kitchen-cupboard vinegar. Here's the method: using vinegar to get rid of dandelions in lawn - Search

If only “weedy” human relationships were as easy. Often, no matter what is done to help or placate them, it's never enough. Seems that no matter how much one tries to sow “grace,” “friendship,” or “helpfulness,” with some folks, it doesn't help. Still, as Christ-followers, we're to follow His example in planting “good” even where soil is unfriendly. To bloom where we are planted.

St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), Bishop of Geneva (here's its history: Diocese of Geneva - Wikipedia ) is credited with that saying (“Bloom where you are planted”). In recent decades it enjoyed revival through the broadcasts of Paul Harvey and art of Mary Engelbreit. But sayings with the same thoughts are found throughout scripture. Sometimes that was history, like God's instruction to the Israelites to “settle in” with homes, gardens and families during their exile in Babylon (Jeremiah 29:5-6). The book of Psalms opens with a similar scenario, comparing a righteous person to a tree planted near a water source, growing and yielding fruit.

What if you think your “ground” isn't compatible to blooming? The apostle Paul said to learn contentment in every situation (Philippians 4:11-12). Do the right thing. Don't crumble if things aren't perfect.

Ironically, it's the very robust, prolific dandelion that runs counter to our culture's perception that a lawn must be lovely, velvety, and free of yellow-blooming weeds that “die” to self-propagating fluff-heads. But last I checked, nobody in history has enjoyed a perfect, velvet-green life. Life comes with times of storms, drought, cutting-down and unwelcome weeds (hardship, difficult relationships). But still, we are to bloom. As one example, I think of Joni Eareckson Tada. She could have turned her broken neck and invalid bed into grump's coffin. But she didn't. She turned paralysis into praise. Weeds into wisdom. 

And remember, dandelions can be pretty flowers for a little child to pick for Mommy. They don't prick like thorny roses, and their flying offspring or the  left-behind weed root can faithfully regrow another sunny bloom. Maybe—like life's negative relationships and difficult times—they aren't what we planted. But we can still shine forth—with the hope rooted in our faith in a generous, all-knowing God.....who deemed a lowly plant worthy of a bright and cheery color.

THIS MERRY MONTH OF MAY....

Right on schedule, the Yellow Ones have returned. From a grass-level “tutu” of broad leaves, a short stem lifts up its yellow crown. Dandelions. Yard weeds, but merry and lovely in their own way. Yes, I have a few yellow daffodils blooming, too, but the hearty dandelions have also awakened. I'm not into harvesting the leaves for a back-to-nature salad, so off to the garbage they go.

My brain makes some unlikely connections when I'm out doing yard-work (like plucking weeds). That day I found myself silently rehearsing an old hymn that starts with “May”--not the month-meaning, but the “permissive” meaning.

May the mind of Christ, my Savior,/Live in me from day to day,/By His love and pow'r controlling/All I do and say.

I knew this hymn, based on Philippians 2:5-8,  was an “oldie-but-goody,” but was surprised to know it was written sometime before 1912. The English author, Kate Barclay Wilkinson (1859-1928), wasn't a well-known hymnist, but an unheralded member of the Church of England. Influenced by the evangelical Keswick Convention Movement, she'd gotten involved in a mission that reached out to needy girls and young women living at St. Leonard's-on-Sea (about 65 miles from London). 

The verse that influenced her hymn was likely Philippians 2:5: “Have this mind in you which was also in Christ Jesus....” This scripture section highlights the spiritual walk of knowing Christ as Savior, dwelling richly in God's Word, claiming the Father's peace, expressing Jesus' love, faithfully running the “spiritual race,” and seeking to express the beauty of Christ in such a way that people are drawn to Him. In short, being rooted in Christ, in order to bring others to Him. As such—especially the hymn's verse about “running the race” for the Lord--it echoed Philippians 2:12-13 about working out one's salvation as God working in us.

A side note: the man who added the tune to her poem, A. Cyril Barham-Gould, was a Church of England clergyman whose first curate (position) was at All Souls Church in Langham Place. That parish became famous in our times as a church pastored by well-known evangelical leader and author John Stott (1921-2011), whom I once had the privilege of hearing in person.

I'm grateful for hymns like this one, and the preaching/writing ministry of godly men like Stott, as I seek (quoting her hymn) to “run the race before me, strong and brave to face the foe, looking only unto Jesus as I onward go.” The hymn may not “pop up” (like my springtime dandelions) in the “worship choices” of contemporary-culture churches. But maybe it should....

This link will help you recall its words and tune: May The Mind Of Christ My Saviour

THANKS--FOR THE THORNS?

Got thorns in your life? Like sorrow? Financial troubles? Job challenges (or challenge of unemployment)? Family conflict? People in general who are hard to get along with? Physical or mental health challenges? Whoever said “life is not a bed of roses” must have endured life's stabs and pricks from difficult experiences or people. Some have even worked their “thorn wounds” into books with that saying in the title. I haven't seen one (yet) titled, “Life is a bed of rose petals.” The thorns come with the petals.

Sometimes life seems too full of emotional and physical “jabs.” Some years ago someone jabbed me with negative accusations and nicknames in person, by phone, and by notes and E-mails. The verbal abuse hurt...for a long time. God and I had lots of conversations about forgiving that person.

Here's the truth: thorns are part of living in a fallen world. Roses are lovely to see and smell, but their stems have this “fallen accessory,” called thorns. But be thankful for the thorns? When you live with pain or an incurable physical problem? When you deal with human brokenness (your own or others')?

Maybe instead of complaining about our own “thorn”--whether physical, mental, or spiritual—we need to look around to see how others successfully deal with theirs. I'm regularly reminded of the outlook by a Scotsman named George Matheson (1842-1906). He began going blind at age 17 while studying for the ministry, and a few years later was completely without sight. He loved a woman—and she him—until blindness began. Unable to cope, she broke the engagement. He never married, but with others' help (including a sister who became his “eyes” for reading and writing) he went on to become a respected and beloved minister.

Every time I read this quote from him, I am moved:

My God, I have never thanked You for my thorn. I have thanked You a thousand times for my rose, but not once for my thorn. I have been looking forward to a world where I shall get compensated for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as itself a present glory. Teach me the value of my thorn.

There's a powerful word for such an attitude: surrender. None of us will have a perfect life. “The perfect life” ended in Eden. But in this fallen, wounded world, we can surrender our broken dreams and hurts to God, remembering He is the master “arranger” of all the thorny stems of our lives. And what He can bring out of the pricks and wounds of life's hard places—when lived-out with gratitude and trust—what can become His showcase to the world.

Yes, His beautiful, artfully arranged, life-bouquet.

UNDERCOVER WORK

 “Oh, rats!” In my childhood, anything remotely sounding like a curse abusing God's name was thoroughly discouraged. I think we got away with “Fiddlesticks” (even though it denigrated my future music passion), “Bummer!” or “Rats!” All of which I could have recalled (though refrained from reviving) for a recent household emergency—with the exception of the last. Because watching television isn't my “thing,” my evenings are quiet, often spent reading. So when I heard thumps and bumps and clattering in the ceiling—and there was no chance of the fabled Santa Claus and his four-footed flying helpers being the reason—I knew I had a problem.

Rats roam the neighborhood, probably still insulted that their wonderful Rat City (huge vacant lot behind the fences of homes on my street) was disturbed and banned when developers put up a huge neighborhood of townhouses on the site. Do rats have scouting parties that work in the dark? And how would they get in my attic to have nighttime square-dancing contests that scared me spit-less (more or less)?

Sharing my plight with some friends, we decided the rats had looked for a back door to success—in my case, a tiny chewed-away part of the wood frame of the screened “plug” to my foundation well access. Once under the house, party time! And somehow, the party moved upstairs through walls to my attic. A caring friend came over with eradication supplies (spell that e-RAT-ication) and helped me with the dastardly task. Another brought a bent piece of metal to cover the tiny suspected-chewed entry of the screen's wooden frame. A couple weeks later, the unwelcome clatter faded. I heard a tiny ceiling chunk-e-dunk a couple nights ago, but not the full-fledged square-dancing-romps of previous weeks.

As I considered the tiny access making way for a vermin celebration, I thought of how sin can be just as sneaky. Give sin an inch, and it chews away at a one's character:

Do not participate in the unfruitful deeds of darkness, but instead even expose them. (Ephesians 5:11)

Do not be bound together with unbelievers; for what partnership have righteousness and lawlessness, or what fellowship has light with darkness? (2 Corinthians 6:14)

This is the message we have heard from Him and announced to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. (1 John 1:5-6)

Disclaimer: I'm not pointing any fingers in writing about this problem. Any Christian faces the threat of spiritual “rats”: “Do not be deceived: bad company corrupts good character” (1 Corinthians 15:33). We don't have to turn up at unsavory places in person. Pushing the “on” button on a computer can take someone to virtual bad places as well. The more someone spends time in such negative places, the more it can erode one's character.

Oddly, mice and rats have been gentrified (made “normal”) through the pens and brushes of cartoonists. Remember the mice who helped Cinderella get ready for her life-changing ball? Or the comic critters with big ears, long tails and vicious dental work who starred in Disney's 2007 cartoon “Ratatouille”? Sorry, not the real world. My unwelcome visitors didn't have names, except maybe “Ugh.” Eradication, not entertaining them, was my aim. Hmm, sounds like spiritual warfare for believers, too....

SDRAWKCAB

My 12-and-under grandsons were having too much fun around the paper and crayons that I keep on a play-area shelf. I had heard them giggling, but that's a better sound that complaining about something. After their “grandma time” that day, I went into their play area and found this little sign—all in backwards printing. Their creative area is right next to a mirrored closet door, so I figured out that they'd written “backwards” (and everything else) well, backwards, and then held it up to the mirror. Snicker, snicker, snicker....

I'm not sure what they meant by “backwards cool”--maybe that I'm not “with-it” with computer games or assembling new and fantastic creations with those little notched plastic blocks. (The ones that start with the letter “L” which are not fun to walk on barefooted....) But (as Grandmas should) I do respond to their presence with adequate supplies of milk, granola bars, cheese sticks, apple slices, or other food items to help them grow big, strong, and smart.

The word “backwards,” unfortunately, has taken on some mean connotations. To call a person “backward” is to imply that they are “diffident” (meaning timid or lacking confidence) and just not “with it” for good relationships with their contemporaries. That bothers me, because “with it” doesn't always align with the behavior God desires that we exhibit in honoring Him. Often, there's an element of rebellion and pride rather than the graciousness that should characterize a Christian.

Here's another way a Christ-follower might look at this little grammar/spelling exercise. Moving forward in the Christian walk means heeding the lessons of a “look back.” That means a sobering look to the First Century when a Bethlehem-born Man left his earthly father's carpentry shop (and his mother, we presume, in the care of his subsequent brothers and sisters) to tell people about a Heavenly Father. And not just tell with life-changing words, but show it through life-changing miracles.

His itinerant ministry—up and down Palestine, and up and down again—shocked folks who thought God's promised Son would come in great, glittery splendor, like an earthly monarch. Not as a regular-looking person with dirt in his worn sandals and dinners with his followers around a camp fire. But there was something about His life and words that lifted people to a forward look—of an eternity with God on the basis of faith, not backwards layers of so-called “good works” which they hoped would cancel out the “bad parts” of their lives.

For peoples steeped in “religious rites” that centered on killing animals as sacrificial gifts, this “faith not works” relationship with God was new and jarring. It just seemed backwards. But it would change a world burdened by trying to work enough “works” to earn God's favor. The “backwards look” requires us to admit our sinfulness. The “forward look” pulls us into a relationship with a loving Father. The transition, spelled backwards, is called “noitavlas”--a silly word, but the true word, salvation, is the point of an honorable, joyful going forward with God.

GLORY AFTER THE SNOW

Besides the golden trumpets of daffodils, or the prayer-cupped petals of tulips, my yard welcomes spring with the tiny blue-star chionadoxa, better known as “Glory of the Snow.” Originally native to the mountains of Western Turkey, this member of the lily family spreads its dainty blue blossoms where the spring sun beams its welcome onto my front yard. Self-propagating, it always surprises and delights me in March as warmer weather crawls into the valley.

When I walked by my patch of these flowers one Sunday after church, I was struck by a truth they illustrated. I had sat with a friend who was widowed before I was. Behind us sat another widow, whose loss is more recent. We are navigating our spiritual “winters” of loss in our own ways. But hope—the spring of spiritual hope—is unfolding in ways unique to each of us.

In a similar way, the hope of new life through faith in Jesus seems to parallel the wakening from winters of sin and discontent. An old hymn, “I Can Hear My Savior Calling,” has been running through my mind lately. (Yes, I am a hymn-lover!) This one dates to 1890, expressing the heart of E.W. Blandy (1844-1907), a British Salvation Army officer who immigrated to an assignment in a rough New York City waterfront slum known as “Hell's Kitchen.” I wonder how many mornings he walked out the door into New York's worst neighborhood claiming that this was the place Jesus had called him to.

The hymn is the only one known to be associated with Blandy. But those who study hymn histories believe it was eventually published in more than 700 places. (One researcher claimed it was in 903 volumes.) Blandy based his hymn on two verses:

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27)

“Whoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me” (Mark 8:34)

Some church music historians regard this hymn as “too simple.” Its verses repeat these phases after “I'll go with Him”: through the water, through the garden, to dark Calvary, to the judgment. Then it ends: “He will give me grace and glory” (repeated three times) “and go with me, with me, all the way.” But these easily remembered words were just right in expressing the Gospel message for Blandy's rough-and-tough slum-area ministry.

Little more is known about Blandly. He was just one man, reaching out to people living in wretched conditions. Folks living in the unforgiving, crime-chilled environment of inner New York. But he appealed to them, through this hymn, to listen for the call of hope of faith in Jesus Christ. And in so doing, left us this still-memorable hymn.

Listen to the hymn here: Bing Videos

Then enjoy this spring-welcoming music with a background of these spring flowers and chirping birds:

Glory-of-the-Snow Symphony ❄️? Spring Serenity & Piano ? The Beautiful Garden ? #Chionodoxa

A LITTLE FOOLISHNESS

Five days until April Fool's Day—and I'm not fooling around about that fact. I really don't do anything for this so-called holiday. I mean, why mark a holiday for exalting pranks and deception? Not surprisingly, this odd holiday goes back to ancient times when the spring equinox (also known as the “vernal equinox”) took place in earth's Northern Hemisphere. That's the transition “day” when day-length is more or less equal to night darkness, and daylight progressively lengthens. The reverse (“autumnal equinox” with longer nights) will begin in late September.

No surprise that this celestial habit caught attention of ancient peoples. The Romans (somewhere between 625 B.C. And 476 A.D.) had a classic festival they called “Hilaria.” As you might guess from that word (similar to our English “hilarity”), it called for fun, like wearing disguises. Not much more history is recorded of that until 1561 when Eduard De Dene wrote a poem about a servant being sent off on silly errands. (Supposedly, that's the origin of the phrase “a fool's errands.”)

Fast-forward to 1957, when a joker on Britain's BBC broadcast claimed Swiss farmers were able to grow spaghetti on trees. Would you believe folks called the station to find out where to get pasta trees? Then Swiss jokers got in on the ruse, when a TV station claimed they could get color on their black and white television by wrapping their TVs with nylon stockings.

The prize for being “gullible” (or true, card-carrying “fools”) probably goes to folks who have heard about God's plan of salvation through Jesus Christ, and choose to ignore it. Instead, they go for man-generated outlooks, like thinking happiness comes through wealth or fame.

The Bible's take on it includes these verses:

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” (Proverbs 1:7)

“The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but he that hearkens unto counsel is wise.” (Proverbs 12:15)

“A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions” (Proverbs 18:2).

Some other Biblical perspectives:

*Fools tend to be hot-headed and for some reason feel secure through such behavior (Proverbs 14:16).

*Folly is like turning perfume into a stinky mess of dead flies (Ecclesiastes 10:1).

*Fools who deny the existence of God are corrupt, known for vile deeds and “no good” (Psalm 14:1).

*A “repeat offender” fool is like a dog going back to its own vomit (Proverbs 26:11).

A better verse to end this topic:

“Do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is” (Ephesians 5:17)--and that is to seek wisdom and discernment, and be committed to aligning one's life with God's purpose.

Oops, was it really boiling temp outside?
No--but my internet "home page" for
 March 13 said it would be 255 degrees out!

Years ago (credit childhood immaturity) I probably tried a few “April Fool's Day” pranks on my family. The possibilities are out there—just search the topic on the internet and you'll find several websites. If that's your inclination, be sure to keep it “light” and not damaging to reputation, health, or the environment.

God created us to laugh as well as cry...and He might have had some fun Himself in the whole creative process. Like, how did He come up with the idea of a platypus? Or allow weather forecast bloopers like this one slip into the daily internet predictions....

HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

Sorry for the bad pun (here/hair today), but one recent night my kitchen floor was covered in grandboy hair. He'd not had a trim in months, and that night when he was visiting, I dared to say, “Would you like to earn $2 and have a haircut tonight?” Money talks to little boys with an addiction to those tiny little colored notched plastic building blocks whose name starts with “L.”  He, his dad, and a brother had just come from an "L-toy" store. 

Within minutes of coming inside my home, his brother was already assembling the newest L-block toy. But Grandboy #3 hadn't bought one. He might have spent his allowance at another tempting place (the candy aisle at a local quick-mart?). I didn't ask. But his hair was getting hippie-style. His dad usually is his “barber” in the family bathroom (where the “results” are easily swept up), but Grandboy #3 had escaped the scissors and buzzer way too long. Money talked (Grandma's money!) and soon he was on the kitchen stool, orange plastic cape on his shoulders, getting a major trim by an electric-clipper-holding dad, who's performed this rite often. (And I asked myself, is this how it works? Does the person who cuts my hair pay me for the privilege of making me look human again? No, I think it's the other way around!)

He does get an allowance for chores around the house. I can't remember, but he might be “tasked” with taking the clean knives/folks/spoons out of the dishwasher and divvying them into the sectioned “utensil drawer.” Maybe he takes a turn scooping the gross little “sausages” (to put it nicely) out of the cat's litter box. Whatever it is, it's age appropriate. And it provides him with a tiny door into the big-world lesson of managing money.

So, back to the haircut and its results all over that end of the kitchen. If this had been a barn, it might have passed for wall-to-wall hay, in and out the animal stalls. But no, it was a little boy's hair, and he was $2 happier for cooperating.

I wonder if this story might represent the times when someone is reluctant to get rid of something they really don't need, but are negligent about abandoning. Instead of hair, maybe it's cutting away a bad attitude toward someone. Or failure to step out in faith to a big life change instead of stagnating with negative choices. They get so used to the overgrown, messy “present-self" that they can't envision that changing.

The apostle James (coincidentally the same name as my “hairy” grandson) considered that dynamic when he wrote, “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed” (James 5:16 KJV). I think we often focus on the “confess” and “pray” parts of that verse—and we should—but we overlook the “another” (or “one another” as in other translations). Left to ourselves, we get blind or stubborn to our neediness, resisting change. My grandson needed the incentive of $ to make an “appearance” decision, but in spiritual matters, a payoff is not the solution. The key words in this verse are “confess,” “one another,” “pray,” and “healed.” Necessary spiritual change happens best with admission of need, support of community, and earnest desire to adopt changes toward spiritual wholeness.

Disclaimer: there is no barber's striped pole outside my front door. No cutesy signs that say, “Hair today, gone tomorrow.” I'm happy to serve my family's “junior members” in this way. And when they run into the bathroom to see their “new look,” I think of how I need to regularly check my image in God's mirror—wanting to honor Him in the way that people see Him through me.

EQUIPPED

Somebody, somewhere, had this great idea of a pink-handled tool kit for women who will never aspire to be “Tim the Tool-man.” (Maybe “Tina the Tool-woman”?) Yes, the basics of hammer, pliers, screwdrivers, and such for those pesky little problems that crop up in running a household. I can't recall who my “girl-tool-kit” came from, but it's stored in a “handy place”...and from time to time has been “quite handy.”

First, a disclaimer. One's gender does not predispose certain real-world “tool-handiness.” There are women out there who excel with hammer, saw and all the rest. Some of us, though, have the “beginner set”--and I thought about my beginner tools when I thought through some Biblical passages about being “equipped for good works.” Like this one at the end of the letter to the Hebrews, offering a benediction that the “God of peace” bless these believers, “equipping you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ” (Hebrews 20:21). It's not a quality you can buy at a store, but it's what is stored up in our character through a growing faith.

These passages came to mind as I thought of essential “spiritual tools”:

Scripture's saw: Able to cut through character defects and excesses for the right “fit”: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16-17).

Tried-and-true instructions: Not a paper of 1-2-3 instructions and diagrams, but the tried (literally “tried” for Paul, before Roman government high-honcho Pilate) and true (Son of God) “Shepherd of God's sheep” who is able to “equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may...work in us what is pleasing to him” (Hebrews 13:21).

Skill-matched tasks: Some of the faith community will be tapped as leaders, others to serve in less public roles—all making up the body of Christ so all can “become mature attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:11-13). Whether judges or janitors, each has a vital role that lifts the “ordinary” to “God-ordained.”

Perseverance: The apostle Paul knew how tough ministry could be. He sat in many jails, endured harassment, and survived life-threatening stoning. He experienced the world's “pounding” of ridicule, shame, prison, shipwreck—and eventually a death sentence. Yet he affirmed, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Now, if you'll excuse me, I remember a screw coming loose on a door hinge....

SHORT LIFE, ENDURING MESSAGE

I can't recall when I got my first copy of the classic devotional, “My Utmost for His Highest.” I only know that from early adulthood it was among the books that challenged and help grow my faith-walk. Only recently, learning the story of its author, I am even more grateful that it came to be.

The book's author is listed as Oswald Chambers, a British evangelist and missionary who ended up in Egypt, where he ministered to British soldiers, dying of appendicitis in 1917, only 43 years old. By one report, he refused medical intervention for his agonizing condition, saying the wounded soldiers needed the doctors more than he did.

Though the book carries his name as author, the real credit goes to his wife “Biddy” (her nickname for “Gertrude”), a skilled stenographer. As a single woman, she'd committed herself to excellence in that business skill, hoping it might come to the attention of England's prime minister. But before that might have happened, she met and married Britisher and evangelist Oswald Chambers. She'd follow him in his missionary endeavors, finally ending up in Egypt where World War I battles raged between the British and Ottoman Empire. He served the troops as a chaplain, speaking at the soldiers' chapels. Quietly, in the audience, sat Biddy, taking meticulous notes in shorthand.

Seven years after their marriage, Chambers died—reportedly of appendicitis for which he refused treatment, saying the injured soldiers needed medical help more. Biddy would spend the next 35 years raising their daughter (their only child) and transcribing Oswald's shorthand-saved devotional messages into books. She refused personal name recognition for her work, with only his name listed as author.

First published posthumously in the United Kingdom in 1927, and in the United States in 1934, it has reportedly sold more than 13 million copies. All that—ironically--because a little-known woman who knew shorthand carried forth the skill to bring glory to God. In other words, to live out in her unique (yet God-planned) circumstance, the scriptural admonition to “train yourself for the purpose of godliness” (1 Timothy 4:7).

ALL GLORIOUS ABOVE

Sir Robert Grant's hymn--as found in
one published in 1938, a hundred 
years after his death.

 Some insights from a beloved hymn

If the Austrian city name “Salzburg” brings something to mind, it might include the image of actress Julie Andrews (portraying a “nanny”) running over stunning Alpine meadows with happy children wearing play clothes sewn from curtains. Her inimitable soprano voice sings the theme song that begins, “The hills are alive....” Yes, the film “The Sound of Music” made this Alps location memorable and “visit-able.” Located in north-central Austria, it now offers all sorts of tourist options, from a 40-minute river cruise to a private walking tour with a guide through historic places of Salzburg. But hang on, there's another “Austrian” connection in hymn history...

There's no fee charge for a breathtaking tour of a “spiritual Salzburg,” magnificently encased in a hymn woven with worshipful words that boost the “awe-factor” of God, described as “King, all glorious above.” The hymn aids praise to “gratefully sing His power and His love.” To look around at “His bountiful care” of this world”—all that: ...breathes in the air, it shines in the light; It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain, And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.

The lyrics burst with awe for God's creation, His love for His frail children, and His trustworthiness and mercies. It's not what you'd expect as the creative worship expression of a government official on foreign soil. But that's the story behind “O Worship the King.” It connects with Psalm 104's descriptions of God's greatness and attributes: Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

The hymn came from the heart of an India-assigned British government official, Sir Robert Grant (1779-1838). Born in Bengal, India, where his father held a high position in the East India Company, he was raised and educated in England. He followed in his father's leadership footsteps, including election to Parliament, director of the East India Company, and governor of Bombay. He was reportedly greatly loved by the people of India, who would name a medical college in his honor.

Grant's strong faith, nurtured in the evangelical wing of the Anglican Church, was also expressed in a small volume a poetry published a year after his death. But the poem that became this hymn was well-matched to a regal tune composed by J. Michael Haydn (1737-1806), Austrian composer (there's the Austrian connection!) and younger brother of famed musician Joseph Haydn. Although Joseph is better-known, Michael is considered one of the most accomplished composers of church music –even better in that genre than his brother. If you need to know “how prolific,” try starting with Michael's 43 symphonies, 12 concertos, 21 serenades, well over 400 religious pieces, 47 masses and more....plus 253 secular works--it's okay to say “whew!”

Five years after the hymn's 1833 composition, Grant died, just shy of age 60. He was one-of-a-kind—devout, creative, not the stereotype of a foreign government official. He didn't need inspiration from a movie set in stunning landscapes, or a tourist “riverboat tour,” to prompt worship of the God who created such a beautiful world. Nor did he need extensive hymn-writing credits. His career strengths were political leadership and rapport with the people of India. But his enduring, sing-able legacy is this hymn, inspired by the greatness of God's creation and power as our “Maker, Defender, Redeemer and Friend.”

Sing along (lyrics included): Bing Videos

IMPRINTS

“Stamping”--it was a crafting fad probably two decades-plus ago. I bought into it—literally--amassing a collection of “greeting” and “image” rubber stamps to make my own homemade greeting cards. At the time, there was a win-win aspect of “something to do” with my then-young-teen-loved-crafts- daughter. The slow demise of this hobby occurred to me when I was at a thrift store the other day and noticed a huge bin of used “stamps,” super-cheap. I passed them up as I still have mine, now little used.

The thrift store sight also brought to mind a New Testament phrase about our understanding about the person and role of Jesus Christ. The writer of Hebrews stated that God spoke in the past to His people via prophets, but now He is speaking “to us by His Son,” who is the “heir of all things” and Creator of all things (Hebrews 1:2) And here's the important word: “Jesus is the brightness of [God's] glory and the express image of His person” (Hebrews 1:3 NKJV). The term “express image” is a translation of the Greek term charakter, which described a tool-made impression or engraving, such as found on an official seal or coin. Back then, they didn't have rubber stamps in craft stores, but the process with metal or wax was the same: press hard, leave image.

I find this mind-boggling. How could an eternal, infinite yet intimate God show us His “charakter”--except through His Son, planted temporarily on earth to model and teach about God's plan for holiness and peace? And not just to “model and teach,” but to leave the Holy Spirit to energize right-living?

And maybe a clue is in how we rubber-stamp these days (or in earlier times, pressing an image into melted wax). You don't get an “image” on your paper by juggling the rubber stamps. You must choose what's appropriate, press it into ink, then press into your paper or document. Could the same thing represent the process to be “imprinted” as a follower of Christ? There is a choice, that decision “inked” by blood shed on an ancient cross, which identifies us as Christian.

One more thought. To make a good “image” from my stamps, I needed to press the inked stamp into the paper hard and accurately. Similarly, a true Christ-following-decision isn't a “light touch” on one's life choices. If it's blurred, pale, or incomplete, the message is also compromised. Or to add to what I said above: press hard into Him. Leave His image on all you do or say.

WHEN IT NEVER LETS GO...

It's that time of year when the advertising world explodes with roses, diamond-ring-ads, romantic dinners, mushy cards and more....for Valentine's Day. No doubt, somewhere in all that, you'll hear recordings of Whitney Houston's 1992 hit, “I Will Always Love You.”

That's good and fine for the economy, but painful for those who are alone and live with rejection or are grieving life-loss. Yet those who are “alone”....aren't alone before God. In my reading about hymn history, I am always moved by the biography of Scotsman George Matheson (1842-1906). A minister and author, at one time, he was engaged to a young woman. But his increasing blindness (which began when he was 17) caused her to break the engagement.

He never married, though managed to preach and write with the help of his sister, becoming both a beloved and eloquent preacher. The year he turned forty, his sister married. That occasion brought back memories of his own heartbreak. Out of that despair, he reached out in faith for God's unchanging love, penning four stanzas of his greatest hymn: “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.” The first verse goes like this:

O love that will not let me go, I rest my weary soul in Thee.

I give Thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow

May richer, fuller be.

Matheson's pulpit skills strengthened in that little parish. But like many pastors experience, sometimes the crowds thinned. One winter evening service was especially poorly attended—except for a visitor Matheson knew nothing about. That visitor had come from the large St. Bernard's Church in Edinburgh, which was seeking a new pastor.

The visitor liked what he heard, and Matheson was called to the pulpit of that 2,000-member church. There, his popularity and influence grew. He reportedly said of that surprise visitor: “Make every occasion a great occasion. You can never tell when somebody may be taking your measure for a larger place.”

Sadly, as common for many old historic churches, its fellowship and even purpose changed in the next century. One recent hymn researcher who visited Matheson's old parish found the church locked up and a notice on the front door that it was now used for concerts and dances.

It's too bad there wasn't a compelling historical sign, recounting the building's extraordinary history as a place where eternal Biblical truths and hope were powerfully taught. As I read again the lyrics of Matheson's hymn, I was drawn to verse three:

O Joy that seeketh me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee.

I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.

------------

Many groups have recorded this tender, hopeful hymn. Here is a rendition by Bill Gaither singers: Bing Videos

 

BEING BOLD...

A friend gave me this little dish—I presume a “resting place” for a tea bag—that (alas!) got me thinking about ways I should be “bold” and ways I shouldn't!

Thankfully, scriptures helped me identify the “okay” boldness. They include:

*Everyday spiritual confidence: “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1).

*Boldness amid spiritual negatives: “Now, Lord, look on their threats and grant to Your servants that with all boldness they may speak your word” (Acts 4:29)

*A wise and courageous “mouth-set”: The apostle Paul's request: “That I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel” (Ephesians 6:19-20).

*Confidence through faith in Christ: “Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold” (2 Corinthians 3:12).

Disclaimer: “boldness” is not “brashness.” “Boldness” is pure in motives, earnest in application, gracious in circumstance. Brashness tends to beat people up or tear them down. Boldness is trusting God to point to the right words and actions to bring about right-living in the midst of our fallen world.

Some heroes of the faith who showed boldness:

David, in facing Goliath and trusting God in what seemed overwhelming odds.

Esther, who put her comfortable life at risk to ask her pagan husband-king to spare the Jews from annihilation (including herself!).

The Lord's disciples, including (later) Paul, who faced mobs and imprisonment for telling about Jesus.

If those who analyze personalities proposed a continuum that had shy and mousy people on the left, and bold “shaker-movers” on the right, I'd be among the meek crowd huddling on the left of the chart. I took Speech 101 in college (required, even for shrinking-violet freshmen) but crossed “public speaker” off of my life goals. How was I to know that a few decades later I'd move on that chart a bit to the other side. Not way across to “brave, brash and quotable,” but able to address moderately large crowds without fainting under the podium.

Probably my heroine for “be bold” was an aged German woman who specialized in the quiet, precise work of watch repair. Then war yanked her out of the watch shop, and she survived arrest and notorious imprisonment during the Holocaust. Once freed, she could have retired to a quiet, safe life. Instead, until very old age, she traveled the world, declaring her faith and trust in God in the most horrific of experiences. Among her quotes (which I never forgot in a once-a-lifetime experience of hearing her speak): “There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still.” Her name (if you hadn't already figured it out): Corrie ten Boom.

Godly boldness is not nurtured in cotton-soft circumstances. It rises from the fires of trial, purged by the love of Christ, and spread with the compulsion of God-stoked conviction.

MENDERS

My mother modeled thrift, the legacy of growing up the oldest of nine born to a struggling farmer during the Great Depression. Some of those habits she passed on to me, even though I grew up in a middle-class home where we didn't have to pass on worn clothes to the next-younger sibling or grow a garden to feed all those mouths.

Even now, though I could just toss-and-buy-new, I try to stretch the life of “life's stuff,” like my cozy wear-to-bed socks. It's second nature to me to slip that holey sock onto a burned-out light bulb, and stitch the hole. I know such thrift is becoming rare these days. It's so easy to just toss, run to the local mega-mart, and buy a package of new whatevers.

As I stitched my holey sock closed, I thought of today's scarcity of “emotional menders.” That's what I call people who can graciously perceive others' wrongdoings and do what they can to heal the situation. Because they embrace moral responsibility and justice, they want to “fix” things. Help the offender turn away from hurtful words and actions. Bind up wounds.

Sadly, “offenders” don't always want to be around “menders.” Maybe the “offender” can't let go of negative emotions and actions. Perhaps pursuing peaceful solutions wasn't modeled for them. Or something from long ago changed them into “demanders” instead of “menders.”

Nobody said it would be easy. Sometimes we have to commit that person and situation into God's better way of mending:

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge...but leave room for God's wrath....Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:18-19, 21)

I'm all for mending—not just socks with a bit of useful life left in them, but people damaged by life's rips and tears. Jesus waits for us to bring these sorrows to Him. To gather them into His nail-stabbed hands, and mend as only He can.

...AND THE APPLE TREE

Oh, the memories that the sun, the moon, and even an apple can prompt!  For me, the trio evoke the classic  Disney cartoon version of the Johnny Appleseed story. First released in 1948 as a segment in another film, it was later reissued as a “standalone” in 1955. If you're too young to remember it, go to this website: Bing Videos 

 The "sun" and “moon” parts are connected to the lyrics that speak of God's goodness supplied through “the sun, the moon, and the apple tree.”

So, yes, there really was a “Johnny Appleseed,” his real name “John Chapman,” born in Massachusetts in 1774. His mother died when he was only two, and he was raised by a father and stepmother. From his roots on the East Coast, he traveled westward, planting apple trees on the way. He'd get seeds for free from cider mills. At his death at age 70, he left behind thousands of apple trees and a reputation as a generous (albeit odd) person. Alas, history also provides some negative feedback on his life passion, saying the apples he planted were only good for making hard cider!

On the other hand, others point out that he spread not just apple seeds but compassion and kindness. The Disney cartoonists depicted him as a thin, happy guy. But Chapman lived before modern photography. Nobody really knows what he looked like. Still, the Disney movie's lively animation and catchy song helped cement the “core” (no pun intended) story about this unusual, generous man. I remember that film from my childhood! If you search his name on the internet, you'll come up with lots of interesting history on him.

But I think there's another lesson from Chapman's unusual passion. Somewhat remotely, it references Moses of the Old Testament. When God was singling out Moses to lead the amazing exodus of his kinsmen from Egypt to a new homeland, He started with Moses' staff. “What is in your hand?” God asked Moses about the old wooden shepherd staff he carried. If you don't recall what happened next to that staff...well, read Exodus 4 and onward for the next 40 miraculous years. What was in Chapman's hand (or his satchel)? Seeds. He also carried a simple faith in God along with the lifelong desire to spread something simple, yet good, wherever he went.

Next time you bite into a juicy apple, maybe remember that connection. And ask yourself: what physical or relational skill or tool has God put in your hand?