"I can use that!"

I am in awe of Quilters—the Capital Q type—who turn fabric into art. I tried to Quilt (capital Q) but my mismatched corners caused weeping and gnashing of teeth. Simple patchwork quilts are my style! I’ve created hundreds, mostly baby quilts, from discarded fabric. I have a saying, “I could use that,” when folks offer me their sewing scraps. And when I finish off a quilt by tying the patchwork corners with yarn, then sewing a self-binding, I often think of a spiritual lesson.

It’s this: God is the greatest quilter and binder-upper! I draw this from Isaiah 61, where Isaiah had prophesied of Messiah who would minister to the broken and hurting. Fresh off the proving grounds of His desert temptations, Christ read that passage in His local synagogue, then declared, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:21).

I’m especially drawn to the second part of Isaiah 61:2: “He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted.” When only scraps are left of our lives, we may feel useless to God. We might think He can do nothing with the strips and odd pieces left after hardship or bad choices mess up our lives. But remember, Christ is the Redeemer. He knows how to redeem those scraps to a useful purpose. It requires some trimming…of certain habits, defeatist attitudes, worry, bitterness, laziness or other negative aspects of our character. But every swift cut is part of how He “fits” us into His greater plan.

In His wisdom, the dark pieces are just as useful as the bright ones, the plain ones as the ornate ones. I’ve watched people turn their greatest pain from bad relationships or difficult circumstances into something positive to help others in the spiritual journey. He can even “bind up” the hidden parts of our lives—I’m thinking of the quilt batting inside, which sometimes I also piece--turning heartache into the soft trait of gentleness.

After cutting fabric scraps into five-inch squares, I begin joining them, row upon row. I try to make sure dark colors are distributed throughout the quilt, not in one place. Christians are not exempt from dark times, but unlike non-believers, we have a Father who knows how much we can handle. Psalm 30:5 says: “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” That’s the favorite verse of a friend who suffers daily with severe post-polio pain, but who seeks the joy in every day.

Thus it’s appropriate that the baby quilts I sewed this past year from bits and pieces, for the hospital to give those in need (see July 6 blog on birthday blankets), be “patchwork.” When the Lord sees a life reduced to scraps, He says, “I can use that!” When He binds up the brokenhearted, He creates a masterpiece.

Lethal roots

I couldn’t believe how much root was attached to the morning glory weed I pulled from loose soil between some rose bushes. About two feet of root came up before it snapped off! As I dumped it into my weed bucket, I wondered if the writer of Hebrews had morning glory in mind when he wrote: “Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many” (Heb. 12:14-15).

I once wondered why the verse said “a bitter root grows up” instead of a “bitter plant grows up.” Then I realized that the origins are in the root¸ and when it’s full of bitterness, so will be the result that shows. Bitterness is clearly forbidden for those who follow Christ: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (Eph. 4:31). Bitterness and its ugly cousins put the big Me, not God, in control:

“ME” was hurt by what my (fill in the blank--maybe spouse, brother, sister, parent, friend, boss, coworker) did to ME.

“ME” didn’t get what I thought God deserved to give “ME.”

“ME” lost something important to “ME.”

Brooding over what one considers unfair treatment can lead to three natural reactions, according to Dr. Charles Swindoll, writing in Hope Again (Word, 1996). One is an aggressive blaming of others that can that grow into revenge and rage. In that process, he wrote, it “nurtures a deep root of bitterness that tenaciously wraps around our hearts” (p. 83). The second reaction is a passive “I feel sorry for myself,” resulting in withdrawal and depression. Third is a “holding pattern” when we postpone or deny our feelings, even though those suppressed feelings will eat at us like an acid (p. 85).

Such negative feelings have been linked to significant health problems. One powerful example concerned a forty-something woman who experienced chronic stomach disorders and arthritis. She asked a pastor to pray for her, and in the midst of praying he sensed the Holy Spirit telling him she had a problem with unforgiveness, especially toward her sister. When he inquired about her relationship with her sister, she stiffened up and told of being unable to forgive her sister for a long-ago offense.

Drawing from Psalm 32:3, where David connected health issues to keeping silent about his sin (“my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long”), the pastor suggested her health problems could be related to her bitterness. When she relented and asked for advice, he counseled her to write her sister a letter of forgiveness, asking to renew their relationship. She did so, but delayed mailing it. In the meantime she became so ill she thought she might die. She dragged herself to her car and drove to a mailbox. “The moment she dropped off the letter she experienced some relief, and complete physical relief came when she arrived home.”(1)

One story of forgiveness I've never forgotten concerns Corrie ten Boom, survivor of Nazi atrocities, who spoke widely after the war. One time after her presentation she was greeted by a former prison camp guard she recognized as being especially cruel to her and her late sister. When this man said he’d become a Christian and extended his hand to Corrie, at first she resisted. Bitterness almost paralyzed her. Finally, appealing to the Holy Spirit, she let go of that old bitterness and found the strength to extend her hand in forgiveness and greeting.

Because it’s so much like a pesky morning glory vine, which travels on and on through the darkness of the soil, bitterness takes radical effort to root out. Yet God truly cares about our “spiritual weed control.” Trust me, I’ve had to get down on my knees for spiritual weeds, too, but the anguish was worth if for the freedom I felt later.

(1) From John Wimber, Power Healing (Harper & Row, 1987), retold in Klaus Issler, Living Into the Life of Jesus (IVP, 2012), p. 59.

Floods and fickle trickles

It goes by the prosaic name “Dry Falls,” and when you look across the sedate coulee in central Washington State, you can only imagine its former thunderous, foaming glory. Scientists say about 16,000 years ago, an ice dam created an enormous lake that stretched into today’s western Montana. Then it burst. The resulting cataclysmic flooding scoured layers of basalt and dug out deep coulees, resulting in monstrous falls. This one was probably three and a half miles wide and 400 feet high, ten times larger than the present Niagara Falls. Yes, Niagara Falls—the foaming behemoth that a tight-rope walker successfully crossed just a few weeks ago as the world wondered, would he fall?


When a cross-state journey recently took us by Dry Falls, I thought of how easily as Christians we’re content with a “fickle trickle of God.” We want the label of “Christian,” the assurance of Heaven when we die, but we're like the lakes at the bottom of Dry Falls: just sitting there. Or, deep within us, we’re yearning for more spiritual power, as David expressed: “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

Those who feel stuck as spiritual “dry falls” can learn from Psalm 63 how to move out of there.

Get a glimpse of God. David wrote, “I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory” (v. 2). Of course, we don’t “see” God, but in worship we’re reminded of His power, authority and holiness. When Isaiah had a vision of the throne room of God, his first reaction was “Woe to me!” (Isaiah 6:1). He realized how unworthy He was in God’s absolutely pure presence. The same lesson comes to us. Getting closer to God requires confessing the sin that looms as a barrier between us. David lived for months with spiritual dryness from trying to cover up his adultery and murder. When these were exposed, David cried out, “Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity!” (Psalm 51:2). This was no stain-stick fix. This was thorough, harsh soul-scrubbing. Remember that “sin” includes wrong things we do (“sins of commission”) and things we’re wrong in not doing before God (“sins of omission”). Confession that breaks down sin barriers is the first step toward God’s purifying, holy flood.

Worship in community. When David encountered God in the worship center, he wasn’t alone. It was always filled with worshippers. Even as king, he needed the connections of other God-fearing people—the “all who swear by God’s name [and] praise Him” (v. 11). We, too, need the community of believers to pull us out of spiritual apathy. “Bedside Baptist”/”Pillow Presbyterian”/”Mattress Methodist” (or whatever tongue-in-cheek term you have for staying away from public worship) doesn’t do it. Yes, it takes effort to get to church and it’s risky to establish relationships, but there’s no other way to build a spiritual support network. “Let us not give up meeting together,” warns Hebrews 10:35, “as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another.”

Choose to praise. David could draw on the praise songs he composed during his lonely tenure as a shepherd boy. He also had the Hebrew scriptures to buttress his understanding of God’s praiseworthy attributes. Praise grows out of a deep appreciation for all that God has done for us and an intimacy with the Bible through reading, meditation, and memorization. “If your law had not been my delight,” says Psalm 119:92, “I would have perished in my affliction.”

Focus on God rather than negatives. David wrote of remembering God while in bed at night (v. 6). Instead of mulling over problems, turn heart-tugging scriptures into prayers. I remember a difficult time when Psalm 18 seemed to glow in neon lights from the pages of my Bible. I’d pray (from verse 33), “You promised to make my feet like the feet of a deer. I’m feeling wobbly now. Help me to stand on the heights. Train me for this battle to come.”

Don’t limit God. He can do amazing things. Ironically, after seeing Dry Falls, we spent the night at Post Falls, Idaho. As I took a photo of these falls the next morning, I thought of Jesus, days away from His death, standing near a public water source in Jerusalem and crying out, “Whoever believes in me, as the scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him” (John 8:38). Not Dry Falls. Not Niagara Falls. Something far greater, far better, and far more satisfying!

100 Birthday Blankets

The last 26 blankets

Let’s get this out of the way first. In preparing to write this column, I wanted to quote Jesus’ counsel about not bragging when you do “acts of righteousness.” Wouldn’t you know it: when I opened my Bible to get the chapter and verse, it fell right open to Matthew 6:1: “Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” What are the odds, in a study Bible of some 2,000 pages, of turning to that exact page? I think God wanted that top and center! As you read on, bring praise to God, not to me. Please!

Earlier this week, I delivered three bulging garbage bags containing 26 patchwork baby blankets to the obstetrics ward of our local hospital. With that delivery, I completed a goal of 100 donated blankets in time for my 65th birthday this week. Call it a “bucket list” item, if you wish.

The baby blanket story began last fall, when my church challenged its members to go out in the community as Jesus’ hands instead of showing up for morning services. Thus, folks from my church helped others as they painted, weeded, cleared brush, shoveled gravel, cleaned, hauled, wrote encouragement notes—you name it. As an asthmatic, I was reluctant to join a yardwork team and risk more breathing problems. But I can sew, and I had recently learned that blankets could be used by my local hospital to give the very needy or “crisis” deliveries. About 12-15 babies a month (about a tenth of total births) are born to families so poor or troubled that they're unprepared for their infant’s needs. They may live in their cars or come from another impoverished situation.

I began with sewing and donating about a dozen. And I kept going, regularly visiting thrift stores and yard sales for scrap fabric for the projects. By early summer I was approaching 65—a number I thought would be appropriate for my 65th year of life. Then one Saturday at a yard sale, I told the seller what I was going to do with the fabric I was buying. She said, “Give me your phone number. I have more.” A week later she dropped off a heaped box of fabric for more blankets. A seller at another yard sale gave me a large pile of batting scraps I could sew together. At a local thrift store I spotted old blankets (now designated “dog blankets” for $1 each) that I could wash and then cut for batting. Thus the new goal: 100.

I’m taking a break from sewing to return to writing. But I know I’ll make and donate more blankets in months ahead. A friend remarked to me how nice it would be to have a picture of a baby wrapped in one of my blankets. Because of hospital privacy rules, I know that won’t happen. But I’ve learned that when you do something for the Lord (usually something that’s irrational but Spirit-motivated), you fling it out there and let Him do the rest, even though you may never know the rest of the story.

Last weekend as I sat at our kitchen table, tying the last blankets with yarn, I remembered a quote from the writings of minister/author Frederick Buechner. He wrote: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

God probably won’t call you to sew 100 patchwork baby blankets. But you can be sure there’s a need out there that He wants you to embrace. Take the risk. I never imagined my “project” stretching me to sew 100, but it did. And it was with gratitude to God, and prayers for its unknown recipients, that I wrapped up this “birthday challenge” with—yes, deep gladness.

Lessons from a national anthem

It came out of a war in 1814, the national anthem for the United States. Francis Scott Key had sailed under truce to a British warship to seek the released of an American civilian. He argued his friend’s case successfully, but their departure was ill-timed. Getting ready to attack Fort McHenry near Baltimore’s harbor, the British refused to let them sail away.


I imagine Key squinting through the smoky darkness as night fell on the battle. His country’s flag still flew over Fort McHenry. But each thunder from a British cannon intensified his concern. He paced the ship’s deck all night, praying, wondering. But by the “dawn’s early light,” he saw the flag still waving. Pulling an envelope from his pocket, the young lawyer wrote four verses. “Oh say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,” it began, “What so proudly we hailed…” The poem focused on the flag symbolizing victory.

Today, we’re apt to focus not on national pride, but on national shame. Desperate battles rage: spiritual apathy, immorality, drugs, crime, homelessness, and hedonistic pleasure-seeking.

But I’m grateful for men and women willing to stand between their homes and the desolation of these wars. Seeking to return this nation to purity and truth, they recognize that the ultimate cure for national disintegration is hearts changed by Jesus Christ.

My appreciation for them is renewed every week as we share the same pews and prayer rails. They’re not unapproachable heroes; they’re people committed to the healing of the nation, believing that what they do will make a difference.

A few pews over is a woman, now widowed with adopted, grown children, who for decades has led our local pro-life advocacy group. Proverbs 29:2 strikes close to her heart: “When the righteous thrive, the people rejoice; when the wicked rule, the people groan.”

Throughout the congregation I spot mothers who believe that sustaining the biblical world view means intentional ministry with and through their children. Some are part of organized prayer teams on behalf of schools and teachers.

On my left, near the front, regularly sits a retired legislator. During his terms of office he brought the principles of godly living to government. In the often-charged partisan atmosphere, he was known as a peacemaker.

On my right, just a few pews up, sits a civil engineer who retired to extensive mission consulting work and leadership in men’s ministries.

Such people are among thousands who make me proud of my homeland. They’re acting decisively as citizens of both God’s kingdom and of America. One by one they’re making an impact.

Christ told us to “occupy till I come” (Luke 19:13 KJV). No matter their hometown, those doing so are the true patriots. They’re the “Key” people, not pacing the deck in worry, but heralding the dawn. Their victory symbol is not a battered flag but a splintered cross that changed the world.

Revised and  condensed from my article, “Celebrating America,” published July 1994 in Light and Life Magazine.
(c) copyright 1994.