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.

JUST DROPPING IN....

I learned a new word today: hydrophobicity. It's defined as “the physical property of a molecule that is seemingly repelled from a mass of water.” For a quickie illustration, check out plant leaves after a heavy dew, watering, or rain shower—like this photo of rose leaves. I find that when I slow down to just observe, I have the reminders of an amazing, inscrutable Creator who included such beauty for me to enjoy. Thus, I see transient diamonds right there in my front yard, quivering on a velvet bed.

Okay, if you're a scientist, you're thinking of an attribute of molecules that takes many words to explain. But I'm satisfied with just seeing beauty in the ordinary, little reminders to worship the Creator, whose handiwork has mandated centuries of awe-filled study.

Sometimes, life grinds on at such a pace that I forget to pause and just look. Reflect. Be in awe. Scripture says the heavens declare the glory of God, and the earth shows His handiwork (Psalm 19:1). I'm learning to look, listen, linger. One night the sunset cast such a brilliant orange on the horizon that I couldn't keep from sharing it. I called a close friend and said, “Quick, look out the window at the sunset,” then hung up. The color didn't last long, but she called back and thanked me for alerting her to it. To my surprise, she later gave me a photo print of that sky. She'd grabbed her camera for an “image” that lasted longer than a few minutes. I have it on my refrigerator along with coupons and photos of my grandchildren.

A much quoted thinker of the 1800s once said, “All I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen.” I hesitate somewhat to use this quote—by Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose theology wandered into Eastern religions outside Christianity—but I think it says what he probably didn't intend. It's this: that the heavens and earth are so amazing, so diverse, to interconnected, so beautiful—well, the “so's” can go on and on—that failure to consider their Creator is a travesty.

It is so right that the Bible's first words are: “In the beginning God created....” Not, "God called together a committee to plan this project.” God created. And His decision after creating beauty was to create people to enjoy it.

Of course, we know the Genesis story went sour...and so here we are. But God's Big Story will come to an ending chapter of magnificent redemption. In the meantime, I savor the reminders of His perfect creation, His delightful delicacies of plant and water, His gifts right in front of me—if I just stop and look.

So what if we name it “hydrophobicity.” I call it a fingerprint of the Creator.

IT'S NOT THE 'MATTRESS HYMN'!

The story behind a hymn of the faith.

Jokes aside, the hymn “How Firm a Foundation” is not about mattresses or the undergirding of a building! Instead, with noble words and tune, this well-known, well-loved hymn identifies our spiritual foundation as Jesus Christ.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word.

What more can He say than to you He hath said,

To you who to Jesus for refuge have fled?

Despite the endurance of this stout hymn through more than two centuries (first published 1787), its true authorship has remained a bit confused. It's been attributed to a George Keith (1639?-1716), who worked in publishing. He was the son-in-law of a Dr. John Gill (1697-1771), an English Baptist pastor and scholar. However, another person connected to the hymn is “Robert Keen” (also known as Keene” or simply as “K”) who was cantor (music leader) at the Carter Lane Baptist Church in London under John Rippon, who pastored two London congregations an incredible 63 years until his death at 85.

Rippon's name is most connected with the hymn because he helped compile a Baptist hymnal to augment the already-existing hymnal by prolific hymn-writer Isaac Watts (1674-1748, credited with some 750 hymns himself).

“Fear not,” the second verse begins. Verse 3 uses the analogy of deep waters, verse 4, fiery trials. The conclusion declares:

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose,

I will not—I will not desert to His foes;

That soul, though all hell shall endeavor to shake,

I'll never—no, never—no, never forsake!

Last but not least, consider its scriptural allusions:

1 Peter 1:23 (KJV): “Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever.”

Isaiah 41:10: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” This was the beloved hymn of General Robert E. Lee and has been performed at the funerals of several US politicians, including Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson. On Christmas Eve 1898, American units engaged in the Spanish–American War joined together to sing the hymn. The members were from the North and the South.

Why its diverse popularity through the centuries? Perhaps because it express with a stout but joyful tune the assurance and joy of our salvation through Jesus Christ.