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