RING AROUND THE WHAT?

This is my rubber-glove chore about twice a year, when our area's “hard water” (with its calcium, magnesium and iron) advertises its prevalence with rings in our, uh, “porcelain throne.” I wet down a now-well-used block of pumice (essentially “volcanic foam”) and carefully scrape away the hard-water crust-lines. It's not my favorite task, but it needs to be done and just takes a few minutes.*

The word “rings” has so many meanings. Trees have rings of growth. Brides and grooms exchange rings of pledge. Big ornery bulls may have rings in their noses. Circus clowns juggle rings. A stone tossed in a lake produces rings from its impact. But how many times in childhood (or with your own children) did you sing “Ring around the Rosie” without a clue to the ditty's meaning?

The rhyme sung in a child's circle-round game actually has a grim connection with the Black Death pandemic that ravaged Europe 1347-1351, killing an estimated 25 million people. Historians and scientists believe it was spread by infected rodents to humans through flea bites. One historian believed the “ring around the rosie” jingle referred to the round, red rash that was the first sign of disease infection. “A pocket full of posies” alluded to idea that flowers stuffed in one's pocket would ward off the disease. (Not so!) The song's line “ashes, ashes, we all fall down” has two possible explanation. One is that it alludes to death: “ashes, to ashes, dust to dust.” The other notion is that instead of “ashes” (as in burnt wood) the word is “Atishoo,” referring to sneezing and sickness. Finally, “we all fall down” references death.

So now you know—and it's not a very pretty story for what most people consider a must-learn, innocent child's game song. Yes, I know, hard-water rings in a household “device” doesn't quite match the idea of a child's circle-song. But maybe there's a truth here. Just as poor sanitation practices helped spread this virulent disease many centuries ago, failing to cleanse our minds of the world's mental and spiritual pollution can leave an ugly, hard-to-remove mark.

Maybe this is a good time to point out one of many proverbs that speak to self-examination to identify the roots of sin-choices: “He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy” (Proverbs 28:13). “Confesses”--sees the spiritual problem (like my hard-water lines). “Renounces”--seeks ways to scrub them out of one's life. Nobody said it would be as easy as putting posies in your pocket. The Enemy is out there, spreading His viral lies. He'd like nothing better than for us to fall down, and drag others with us.

A better choice: ring around the Cross, in praise to the One who conquered death.

*Click here for everything you always wanted to know about this household chore:

How to Easily Remove Hard Water Stains in Your Toilet (savvyhousekeeping.com)

WATER TORTURE

Two of my swimmer essentials in college.....

For whatever reasons (maybe that I was a sickly child), I bypassed the usual early-life-skill rung of “learning to swim.” I chose my college for its good music program (I played violin), not for its general education requirements, which included a brutal three-quarter, seven-credits-each curriculum in world history, literature, and culture. I also hadn't anticipated its insistence on three physical education classes before you could walk across the stage and get your diploma. One of the p.e. classes involved the college pool, and what class you took depended on the results of a swimming test.

Therein floated my problem. I had never learned to swim. (Yes, I know, that sounds odd.) Perhaps being a puny child (I purportedly had rheumatic fever and heart damage), physical exertion wasn't emphasized in my lifestyle. I was, in fact, because of this medical concern, excused from the “participation” part of high school gym classes, though I still had to dress “down” into the funky red shorts/white snap-close shirts required as p.e. attire, and watch the others run and jump. Oh yes, also swish through the showers at the end of class for “shower credit” toward my grade. Okay, this was a long time ago.

Then came college, which wasn't as lenient at that time toward folks who had so-called invisible disabilities. Graduation required three p.e. credits. Two that I took were low impact: “movement fundamentals” (basically slow, isometric exercises) and “beginning folk dancing.” The girl-to-boy ratio of the second class was understandably off-balance as the guys who opted for folk-dancing were—well, I'll let you figure it out. But a swimming class was mandatory, and when the tester realized I was telling the truth about being a non-swimmer, she graciously qualified me for beginning swimming.

Thankfully, the shallow part of the pool only came to my armpits, but by the end of the 10-week term I would have to pass a test that included jumping from the lower diving board into the deep end, coming up alive (well, that part wasn't specified in the rules), and then swimming several laps of the pool, one of which had to be entirely the crawl stroke. I decided I was facing “Mission Impossible.” Thus, at nighttime “free swims,” I was there in the tepid water for practice, trying to strengthen my skinny limbs for the inevitable “final.”

The scariest part for me was diving. Recently, watching the summer Olympics and divers who jumped, flipped and twisted at warp speed into the water, I recalled my own carefully aimed hands-first pose at the deep wet monster. No twists or tricks. Just “down.” And when I jumped in for my “final,” and my hands hit the bottom of the pool, I feared I'd run out of air before I returned to civilization. Whew, I surfaced, and then began my required “laps,” wondering if I'd be able to finish. Well, it was finals week, and those late nights of studying were taking their toll.

To dive (pun intended) to the end of the story, I passed. Without passing out. And with the help of one part of my story I haven't yet shared: prayer! I'm glad I learned to swim, but learning so was hard and fast. I was no mermaid, just a skinny late-teen who faced her fears (with the Lord!) and came out the other side (or maybe I should say, “surfaced”) with success (more or less).

Whether or not we'll admit to it, we all have fears, some afflicted more than others. And we have plenty of company in history, as well as “overcomers” who cheered us on with their own lessons. Like Paul, who said, “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). Remember, the apostle Paul swam, too, in a storm, after a shipwreck. Makes my diving board fears seem pretty puny.

 

WHAM!

I didn't expect to encounter a “casualty” when I stepped off the front porch that day. Right below a large window lay a little bird. I picked it up and touched it, hoping to discern if it was breathing. But there was no reaction. Apparently a collision with the sky-reflecting window took the little bird's life.

 I guessed it was a sparrow—I'm not a bird expert but certainly know crows from robins!--and thought of how common sparrows were in Bible times, too. They built nests in the temple precincts. They could be purchased cheaply for temple sacrifices. In Jesus' time, a penny bought two. Yet, despite their “cheapness,” Jesus remarked, “Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matthew 10:29-31).

 Elsewhere, the Lord admonished His followers not to worry about everyday life and the need for nourishment and clothing. Life is more than that, He said. Then He added (and I wonder if His hand swept across the sky): “Look at the birds. They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren't you more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?” (Matthew 6:25-27).

It's a bit of a jump from common birds to lambs, but I thought of lines penned by English poet William Blake (1757-1827). Writing as if a child talking to a lamb about its Creator, his poem begins:

Little lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee,

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed...?

 It had been years (a college English lit class) since I first read those words. But as I scooped up the little bird and decided where to bury it, the lines returned, but with adjustment: “Little bird, who made thee?....Gave thee life, and bid thee feed?”

As I dug a hole under a nearby azalea, it was a sad but holy moment for me. Dust to dust we all return, people and creatures—except for those still alive when Jesus returns to earth again. But in my minutes-long bird-burying role, I answered Blake's poem. Do I know Who made me? Absolutely! Gave me food, clothing, voice. Blake's poem ends with a reference to Christ as the “lamb of God.”

He calls Himself a Lamb.

He is meek, and He is mild,

He became a little child

I a child, and thou a lamb,

We are called by His name.

Little lamb, God bless Thee!

Little lamb, God bless thee!

 And little bird, now blanketed by soil under the azalea, you mattered to your Creator. Hard to comprehend in this big world, but true.

SPIRITUAL SQUEEGEES

Every spring and fall, I dig out my squeegee to take the layer of dust off the home's windows. I use a mixture of warm water-vinegar or water-ammonia to wet the windows, then squeegee them dry. When I bought this tool, I was reading some homemaker books that extolled the superiority of janitor-grade squeegees, as opposed to cheapies sold in regular stores. Truly, quality matters, and this one has lasted for decades and still does a clean “sweep” of a wet window.

In our spiritual lives, too, we need high-grade “sin-detecting” squeegees. When our spiritual windows, as it were, get clouded by sin-dust-and-grime, rubbing them with a quick “sorry-I-messed-up” rag just won't do the job. Cutting through the negative grime that sin leaves takes more than a spiritual shrug.

I have appreciated the insights about a holy life offered by Jerry Bridges (1929-2016) in his several Christian living books. He was affiliated with The Navigators, whose emphasis is discipleship and Christian growth. In his book The Pursuit of Holiness (NavPress, 1978, 1996), he wrote about the “daily battle” of resisting sin and living for Christ. It's a struggle that mandates honest, humbling self-reflection to “see” through the grime of our daily lives to the purity of Christ. Bridges remarked:

The Holy Spirit strengthens us to holiness first by enabling us to see our need of holiness. He enlightens our understanding so that we begin to see God's standard of holiness....Even Christians taking in the teaching of the Bible can be deceived about their own sins. We somehow feel that consent to the teaching of Scripture is equivalent to obedience.(p. 72)

When we allow our “spiritual windows” to be scrubbed by the “squeegee” (as it were) of God's cleansing Holy Spirit, then we realize how dirty our thoughts and actions really are. Maybe we can still manage life through the grime of sinful attitudes and poor choices, but it's not what God intended. Bridges continued:

As we grow in the Christian life we face increasing danger of spiritual pride. We know the correct doctrines, the right methods and the proper do's and don'ts. But we may not see the poverty of our own spiritual character. We may not see our critical and unforgiving spirit, our habit of backbiting, or our tendency to judge others (p. 72).

When that happens, he added, we're like the Laodicean church described in Revelation 3:17, thinking they were just fine spiritually, not realizing they were “wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked.” In other words, mud-covered windows obscuring the purity of God, needing deep spiritual cleaning.

My windows look a lot better after I give them some squeegee-TLC. But my washing task isn't perfect—or so I see when the afternoon sun glares through them and I see every little swath that escaped the squeegee's blade. I'm grateful that God still accepts me—streaks and specks and all—because He hears my confession and sees me through my faith in Jesus. And I think of that promise we're given in Revelation 3:2—that someday “we shall see Him as He is.” What a glorious-perfectly-clean-window promise follows that: “ And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure.”

LABOR OF LOVE

A vintage two-headed hoe in my yard
shed reminded me of Bible-times 
agriculture--shown with a drawing of
 Ruth in my childhood Bible.

My childhood Bible included several pages of Bible-story art which, as a kid, I enjoyed looking at instead of (sorry!) trying to follow the more-adult-focused sermon. The glossy full-color pages helped me picture many stories I'd heard in Sunday school. One that always saddened me showed a tired-looking woman in a Bible-times field. I knew that people in Bible times didn't have modern tractors, and harvest depended on human hands with primitive tools. I'd learned that this woman was a poor foreigner, not a hired worker. She was picking up the stalks of grain workers left behind to take home to her elderly mother-in-law for them to eat. What they made, I don't know. Maybe it was ground up, then mixed with water for a mushy cereal to ward off hunger pains.

Years later, I learned how that sad, solitary woman had made several difficult choices. A widow from a foreign country, she'd chosen to leave her homeland out of love and concern for her widowed mother-in-law, who'd lost husband and both sons and wanted to return to her own homeland. In so doing, this younger widow also embraced a new religion, very different from the idolatry of her homeland. She also turned her back on whatever extended family she may have had in her homeland to venture into an unknown future as an impoverished, vulnerable older woman.

Add in a difficult journey—probably by walking. The Bible doesn't tell their “mode” of transportation but they certainly didn't catch a bus and probably didn't hitch a ride on the back of an old wooden cart. The journey—about fifty miles of danger and unknowns, with overnight stays (probably in the open) along the way—was not easy. Probably the older woman needed many rest stops. Somewhere they had to find water to drink.

Finally they got to the mother-in-law's original hometown, called Bethlehem. I can't even imagine the daughter-in-law's thoughts as she watched the old woman glimpse the village she'd left long ago when famine hit. But whatever concerns the daughter-in-law felt, she knew she'd committed to this change when she weeks earlier declared to her bereaved mother-in-law, “Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God” (Ruth 1:16-17).

As this Bible story continues, a number of “just-happens”--happen. You probably have guessed by now that this is the story of Ruth, daughter-in-law of Naomi, whose choice of a field to glean “just happened” to belong to Naomi's relative, Boaz. This man could marry Ruth to continue the family line and thus also the inheritance of Naomi and her late husband and sons, buried in Moab. Naomi and Ruth were lifted out of terrible poverty and given a future and a hope.

There are numerous symbolic levels to this Old Testament incident. One that rises to the top if the concept of a close relative who can preserve a family inheritance and through progeny continue a family line. This person is called a “kinsman-redeemer.” Hundreds of years later, in that same little town, the greatest “Kinsman-redeemer” would be born to a virgin young woman. A miracle birth, God-planned. Jesus.

What Boaz represented many years earlier, came in God's perfect plan in sending Jesus. No matter our troubles or tragic circumstances, He is able to help and give us a future and a hope. The artwork in my childhood Bible is the sad “before.” But this old, old story also reminds me of new hope through Jesus Christ: “'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'” (Jeremiah 29:11).

PERSPECTIVE

I've worn eyeglasses since a teenager. Oh, my—back in the 1960s, the styles included frames that swooped up at the outside of the eye, like the taillights of luxury cars. (Other comparisons: a crow taking off from a tree. Or the odd upturned eyebrows of “human-Vulcan” officer “Spock” of movie Star-Trek fame.)

The other day, as I dug out my eyeglass collection—planning to donate the oldies to the little recycle box at my optical shop—a Bible verse came to mind. (Yes, it really did!) It's tucked into John 12, a chapter that's packed-full of events and truths as Jesus approached the dark hours of His death. First, there was a dinner in His honor, one full of awestruck guests (and outside-the-room looky-loos) because the co-host was his friend Lazarus, there breathing and full of life after being raised from the dead.

Though popular with the common people, Jesus was public enemy number one for the chief priests, who wanted Him gone. Jesus was a threat to their life work in the temple, and Lazarus' miracle coming-back-to-life didn't help! Worse, the next day, He was the featured rider of an impromptu parade, complete with celebratory palm-branch waving. The religious leaders were livid.

Enter some Greeks (not Jews) who wanted to know more about this Jesus. They came to one of the disciples, Philip, and said, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus” (John 12:21). Philip didn't lead them to Jesus right away, but instead told Andrew, and together they went to Jesus. His answer wasn't a “sure, bring them to Me,” but a prediction of His death.

Two millennia later, people are still saying, “We want to see Jesus.” The Bible accounts of His life and death aren't enough. They can't make that faith-leap of embracing the One who was both divine and human. They hesitate to respond to the call that Jesus made in beginning His ministry, telling the fishermen who'd hung around him to “Follow me.” As He asks the same of us, we realize this is no glib, sentimental poem-hymn. It's a serious life-changer. We either choose to be blind to His claims, settle for less than perfect spiritual vision, or see clearly that Jesus is indeed the Son of God, and that believing in Him, and following His teachings, will radically change our lives.

And maybe there's another hidden message in all these old glasses I need to recycle. As we grow in faith, our “vision” or perception of spiritual things should sharpen. And someday, as citizens of Heaven, we shall see Him face to face—no “corrective lenses” required!

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

The hymn “We Would See Jesus” was written by an Irish-born scholar and Presbyterian minister, whose life included pastoral service in lumber camps and city churches and seminaries, and nearly two decades as a Christian college president. Here's a link to a You-tube performance:

Bing Videos

TRUE REFLECTIONS

Funny thing about mirrors: you both see what you want to see, and what you don't want to see. They're a given in our times, from the cheap hand mirrors you can buy at a dollar store (well, thanks to inflation for a little more than a dollar...) to fancy room mirrors costing hundreds. What would we do without them in our grooming routines! And what would have Fairy-Tale-World have done without the evil queen Grimhilde (whose name means “masked in battle” and implying someone grim and fierce) who consulted her magic talking mirror about who was the loveliest person in the world. It wasn't her, but a maiden named Snow White. And on that the tale (which emerged in Norse mythology), through the animation artists of Disney Studios, came the classic portrait of reflected personalities..

For some reason, that fairy tale recently floated back in my thoughts. Maybe it was scriptures warning about vanity and how the older “me” I now see in the mirror certainly isn't the “me” of my youth. Without broadcasting my age, let's just say my youth came in the dawn of the space age when the Russians launched the first satellite into orbit.

So yes, we've come along ways from the world's first mirrors. Think of times even before Job of the Bible (believed to have lived 2100-1800 BC) and whose friend Elihu (offering him a perspective on suffering) described the mirrors of their time: “Can you join him [God] in spreading out the skies, hard as a mirror of cast bronze?” (Job 3:18).

Thank goodness we don't have to squint into primitive mirrors, like those of brass or of a polished volcanic rock, obsidian (about 6,000 BC). Quite a while later came polished brass, silver, and gold, before our current glass with a very thin chemical coating (typically silver).

What's a takeaway from this little science lesson? Maybe the truth expressed by Pope John Paul II: “We must reflect the light of Christ through lives of prayer and joyful service to others.” Another way of looking at it (pun unintended) is this: when we look at our lives, are we seeing someone slowly being conformed to the character of Christ? Or are we stuck in our distorted life perceptions? Romans 8:29 is a blunt reminder of Who we should reflect:

For those God foreknew, he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son.

The character Jesus fleshed out during His tenure on earth wasn't selfish or suspicious. He wasn't demanding or demeaning. He reflected the goodness of the Father as a role model for us. And that's worth reflecting about—and putting into practice.