Gingerly speaking

A series inspired by sights of Kauai.
Gingerbread men—have you savored that scent lately? This being Christmas, no doubt you have.  Believe it or not, this flower, which looks festive enough to hang on a Christmas tree, is ginger!  Like hydrangea, red ginger puts out floral “bracts” at the end of stems.  The actual flower is a tiny bloom that emerges at the tip. So prized was this plant in early Polynesian history that leis of red ginger were worn by royalty for important occasions.

Well, today, I can think of a royal Person, who enjoyed the worship of angels in Heaven, yet visited earth in the form of a helpless baby. His true birthday, believed to be sometime in early spring, was officially “affixed” to December 25 at the end of the Third Century. That time of year already had pagan festivals honoring Saturn (the Roman god of agriculture) and Mithra (Persian god of light). Church officials apparently thought a same-time Christmas holiday would help non-believers accept Christianity as the empire’s official religion.

Before that, the significant Christian celebrations were Epiphany (Jan. 6) for the Magi worshiping the baby Jesus, and Easter (Passover time), for Jesus’ resurrection. Long ago, token gifts to one another celebrated the Magi’s gift-giving to the star-heralded baby. Those wealthy, foreign visitors didn’t know it, but the gold, frankincense and myrrh they left could be sold to finance the little family’s flight to safety in Egypt. The original idea of gift-giving didn’t come with furious shopping and debt.

As for ginger and Christmas, I think the idea of ginger leis is right on target. While we ought to be giving all to Jesus, He gave all to us, including the designation of a “royal priesthood.”  When I first read this verse in 1 Peter 2:9, I had to stop and think about what all of it means for me.  What we think we’re giving to Jesus, we might as well be offering dirty rocks wrapped in old newspapers. God sees His children this way:

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

It’s more than I can imagine, more than I deserve. But God, the greatest Giver, has abundant red ginger leis to drape around the necks of His children. The only requirement is to accept His offer of salvation through His son, and live out one’s connection to Jesus:

Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us. (1 Peter 2:12)

 The day God visits us? It could be tomorrow!

Never say never

Part of a continuing series inspired by sights of Kauai.
Feral chickens run all over the Hawaiian island of Kauai, in part because their natural enemy, the mongoose, was never introduced onto this island.  Go in a tourist shop, and you’ll find chicken-themed souvenirs right next to the shell beads and Hawaiian shirts.

For me, the birds prompted remembrance of that sad, cool night a panicked man tried to keep near his spiritual leader. The man had once vowed he’d never deny a connection to his leader.  But his leader, wise beyond this world, predicted, “Before the rooster crows twice, you’ll deny me three times.”

 

The unthinkable happened:  the wise, gentle leader was arrested by thugs.  The man crept behind them as they took his leader to an official’s house.  The night was chilly, and someone had lit a fire. Cold, probably trembling with fear, he slunk near the fire to warm up

A servant girl—not a well-armed thug—noticed him and said, “This man was with the arrested man.” The man shot back, “I don’t know him.”

A little later, someone echoed her hunch, “You also are one of this man’s followers.”

“I am not!” the man insisted.

 

About an hour later, someone else voiced suspicions: “Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean.” The man declared, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Just then, a rooster began crowing, and the man remembered his boast. His arrested leader, a captive of ruffians and perturbed religious officials, turned and looked at the man. It was more than the follower could bear.

The man, named Peter, left the scene, heaving with bitter tears. Peter had failed his Savior, broken his boast, revealed the flaws of his character. Like any of us.Peter learned his bitter lesson well. Two letters he wrote after he rose to become a leader in the new sect of “The Way” (later called Christianity), are full of practical ways to follow Christ. I wonder if Peter was thinking of his rooster-announced failures when he wrote:

In this [living hope in Jesus Christ, vv.3-5] you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. (1 Peter 1:6-7) 

Will we ever face the test of the rooster’s crow? When opportunity comes to share about our faith, will we shrink back? Or use innocent idioms? 

At the Oregon junior college shootings in October, the random victims were asked to state their religion.  Those who said “Christian” got a killing bullet.  I may never face that extreme test. But every day brings tests to act and speak as someone not ashamed of Jesus Christ.

Spout and moan

A continuing series inspired by sights in Kauai.
Volcanoes were the contractors for the Hawaiian chain, all now dormant except for those on the “big island” of Hawaii, Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea. Those of Kauai’s volcanic history include Mount Waialeale (elevation 5,080 feet), one of the world’s rainiest spots with an annual precipitation of 460 inches. The beaches continue to witness to the island’s volcanic origins, and one tourist spot is “Spouting Horn” on the southeast shore. Surf channels through a natural lava tube, releasing a spout of water with a big hiss and moan. Depending on tides, the “blow” can go as high as fifty feet.
 

Watching it reminded me of the Bible’s do’s and do-not’s regarding “overflows.” Like the “Spouting Horn” we have blow-holes that originate in our hearts. In two Gospels (Matthew 12:34-37 and Luke 6:45) Jesus observed that we speak and “do” out of the overflow of our hearts. Good people speak and do good things, evil people, evil things. On judgment day it will be rehearsed.  We’re doomed—apart from the blood of Christ covering our confessed sin (1 John 1:9).

But there are hopeful, even joyful, teachings about “overflows”:

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence.  All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God. (2 Corinthians 4:14-15)

May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours does for you. (1 Thessalonians 2:12)

 Hope, thanksgiving, and love—they won’t come “moaning out” like “Spouting Horn”!

Big trees, bigger choice

Continuing a series inspired by sights of Kauai, which we visited on a trip gifted to us.
They’re sometimes called “trees on steroids,” the huge Moreton Bay Fig trees that grow seven times faster in Kauai than in their native Australia.  This tree, growing near the hotel where we stayed, is a youngster next to ones featured in the south-shore Allerton-McBryde botanical gardens. One, called the “Jurassic Tree,” was featured in the dinosaur movie “Jurassic Park,” whose filming began on Kauai in 1992. In the story’s plot, dinosaur eggs were found at its base, and from there ensued the high-drama conflict with wild mega-beasts. I never saw the film, but its theme song (which I heard in an Olympic figure skating competition about that time) was scary enough for me.

Tourists today can find the fictional “egg nest spot” amidst the Jurassic Tree’s huge buttressing roots, many as tall as a person.  These trees can grow to 200 feet high, have evergreen leaves, and impair growth of other trees around them.

Learning that reminded me of two similar passages about trees, one in Psalm 1 and the other in Jeremiah 17. Both tell of trees planted by a water source, unbothered by heat, reliably producing fruit. The analogy is to a believer, grounded in God’s Word, sustained by scripture, and producing spiritual fruit.  Then both swing to the negative:

“Not so the wicked! They are like chaff that the wind blows away.”  (Psalm 1:4)

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9)

Right now, two trees grow, as it were, in life’s garden. One is good, bountiful, beneficial, made up of Christians who believe they are called to serve their Lord through service to others.  Then there is an unruly tree that strangles anything around it. As Matthew Henry said long ago in his classic commentary:

The heart, the conscience of man, in his corrupt and fallen state, is deceitful above all things. It calls evil good, and good evil; and cries peace to those to whom it does not belong. Herein the heart is desperately wicked; it is deadly, it is desperate.

Calling “evil good, and good evil”—is nothing new? But it’s not a terminal condition. . Those who’ve lived apart from God can turn to Christ. So turning, Henry wrote, gives them “new desires, new pleasures, hopes, fears, sorrows, companions, and employments. [Their] thoughts, words, and actions are changed. [They] enter on a new state, and bear a new character.” 

Psalm 1 ends with the fate of those who reject God:  “perish.” I consider that destination more horrific than an imaginary monster story filmed in Kauai.

Just beautiful

A continuing series inspired by sights in Kauai, which we visited early this fall on a trip gifted us.
“It’s just beautiful,” I told my husband as we paused by an orchid plant blooming outside the headquarters for the National Tropical Botanical Gardens. On that hot, humid Kauai morning, it beckoned more than a glance with its pure, delicate color and structure.  Later I learned that there are about 20,000 varieties of orchids, of which I’d seen barely a dozen in my life.

Beautiful.  I wonder if, at times, we overuse that word.  A movie star or pageant contestant may be called “beautiful.”  The same for a radiant bride. To some, a spiffed-up classic car can take that adjective. Or a restored mansion, an intricate quilt, Persian rug, or even a smile after the braces come off.  (That last comment comes from a mom who had two kids in orthodontia!)

But a hymn learned in childhood takes me to my favorite use of “beautiful,” the word prominent in the fourth verse:

Fairest Lord Jesus, ruler of all nature, O Thou of God and man the Son!
Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor, Thou my soul’s glory, joy and crown!

Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands, Robed in the blooming garb of spring;

Jesus is fairer, Jesus shines purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

Fair is the sunshine, fairer still the moonlight, And all the twinkling starry host;

Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer, Than all the angels heaven can boast.

Beautiful Savior! Lord of all nations! Son of God and Son of Man!

Glory and honor, praise, adoration Now and forevermore be Thine!

 The hymn’s origins are sketchy.  Some date it to the 12^th century, saying German Crusaders and their children sang it during the long, weary trek to the Holy Land. Another connects it to a band of persecuted believers, followers of reformer John Hus, who settled in what now Poland during the Reformation era.  It was finally written down and published in the mid 1850s. Nobody knows for sure who later translated it into English.

Its anonymity means more focus on God, not the human messenger, for its memorably-composed message of basking in God’s gifts of beauty, and letting praise replace complaint. 

Beautiful Savior! Sometimes when I walk alone, I go with that “woeful heart” mentioned in the hymn’s second verse.  The things of this life—the troubled people and situations I care about-- weigh me down.  Then God brings my attention to something that’s a part of His creative magnificence, and the truth that, “Jesus is fairer, Jesus shines purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.”

Let the sea resound!

A series inspired by sights in Kauai.
Beautiful and restless, mysterious and marvelous, the ocean never fails to fascinate. One of many in Kauai, this is “Anini Beach” on Kauai’s east coast. Each beach has its personality—some better for surfboards, body-surfing, swimming, or snorkeling. A few are tame enough for children. At this point in my life, I’m as likely to learn to surfboard as I am to drop out of a plane with a parachute. But I can sit on a beach and gaze a long time at waves breaking, thinking of the God who created this world with its massive bodies of water.

At times I recall hymns that mention oceans, like “Wide, Wide as the Ocean,” which I learned in Sunday school. Its author was C. Austin Miles (1868-1946), who gave up a career as a pharmacist to write hymns and help publish them. Some twenty may be still recognized by hymn-lovers, including “Dwelling in Beulah Land, “I Have a Friend,” “A New Name in Glory,” “Win Them One by One,” and the well-known “In the Garden” (it begins, “I come to the Garden Alone”).  “Wide, wide as the Ocean” begins:

Wide, wide as the ocean, high as the Heaven above;
Deep, deep as the deepest sea is my Savior’s love.
I, though so unworthy, still am a child of His care;
For His Word teaches me that His love reaches me everywhere.

Another well-known song referencing the ocean is “The Love of God,” by Frederick Lehman. He was a pastor in the Midwest, but financial problems led him to southern California where he worked in a citrus packing plant. One day in 1917, a song formed in his mind as he worked. During breaks, he sat on a wood crate and wrote down words. That evening at an old piano, he came up with a tune to the two verses he’d written. But hymns of his era always had three verses. Before long, he thought of lines he’d heard in a recent sermon. As he’d heard the story, they were found on the wall of an insane asylum by an unknown inmate. But it’s now known that a Jewish poet in Germany penned them in the 11^th century. Thus, the “borrowed” words that conclude Lehman’s hymn:

Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill, and every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above, would drain the oceans dry,
Not could the scroll contain the whole tho stretched from sky to sky.
 

And we can’t improve on psalms:

Let the sea resound, and everything in it. (Psalm 96:11, 98:7)

Garlands of grace

A series inspired by sights of Kauai.
Abundant in Hawaii, the fragrant plumeria blossom is popular for picking and stringing into floral garlands called leis. Here on the mainland, I’ve noticed some graduates wearing leis at commencement exercises. On celebration days in Hawaii, statues of historical figures are often draped several deep with leis. I remember being given a lei many years ago. As it was lowered onto my shoulders, I felt very honored.

Best known in Hawaiian and Samoan culture, leis share with other cultures, even from ancient times, the idea of a garland signifying honor and celebration.  Two verses in Proverbs are worth considering:

Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction and do not forsake your mother’s teaching. They will be a garland to grace your head and a chain to adorn your neck. (Proverbs 1:8-9, NIV)

Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom, though it cost all you have, get understanding. Esteem her, and she will exalt you; embrace her, and she will honor you.  She will set a garland of grace on your head and present you with a crown of splendor. (Proverbs 4:7-9, NIV)

These verses presume that a parent’s advice and life example are worthy of emulating, and walking in their footsteps will bring honor and moral beauty to a young person. When parents are unable to fulfill their spiritual training role (because of distance, their own failures, or death), God can use other parent-figures to do that. I was reminded of that truth in recent weeks when two older friends died.  Lorna, a pastor’s wife, was 76, her abilities eroded her last few years by dementia. But beginning with my young adult years, she lived out before me the character worthy of God’s garland. At her funeral, many mentioned her steadfast, accepting love, and her wisdom.

Lorraine, at prayer in 2013 (then in her mid-nineties)

The other friend, Lorraine, died at 97, full of years and loved by her huge family and many friends. I met her when she came from Michigan to Washington state to visit her daughter, who lives in my town and is a close friend.  I am blessed by how her godly character lives on through that daughter. A few years ago while visiting her aging mother in Michigan, my friend quietly took a photo of her mother at prayer. Eyes closed, hand raised, her mother was absorbed in her extended daily prayer time on behalf of family and friends around the world. My friend keeps that photo by her kitchen sink.  Oh, that all of us had such a visual reminder of faithfulness! 

One more thing about plumeria: their perfume, like the “fragrance of life” that should emanate from us as Christ-lovers:

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. (2 Corinthians 2:14)

Properly propped

(A continuing series based on photos taken in Kaua’i, the Hawaiian islands.)
If you’ve never seen a hala tree before, you might think somebody didn’t plant it deep enough to cover up the roots. But it is what it is, distinguished by a main trunk and numerous “brace trunks” or “prop roots” that help anchor it to the ground, offering the tree greater stability in storms. Top-heavy palm trees aren’t so fortunate when winds bombast the island, but the stout anchor systems of the hala trees works in their favor.

What a wonderful illustration they provide of Paul’s concern for the Christians of Colossae:
So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. (Colossians 2:6-7, boldface emphasis added)

“Rooted” refers to our beginnings as Christians at conversion. Jesus is like the soil from which we draw our spiritual nourishment.  The deeper the root—or, in the case of the hala tree, the more connections with Him-- the more we will grow.

In His parable of the sower (Matthew 13), Jesus told of a plant that grew quickly but then withered when the sun came out because the roots were shallow. It surely couldn’t have been a mature hala tree!

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul echoed his concern for deep spiritual roots:
I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ. (Ephesians 3:17b-18, emphasis added)

Taken together, these verses tell the way to a solid, growing faith—like “prop roots” of the hala tree:

1. Authentically rooted in Jesus (that’s the main root).

 2. Built up with faith-strengthening teaching.

3. Practicing the grace of thankfulness.

4. Receiving and giving out Christ’s love.

5. Going even deeper in discovering the love of Jesus.

The result is what Paul described at the end of that chapter, words so awesome and hopeful that they need to have a “Hallelujah Chorus” sung behind as they are read:
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, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen! (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Fan club

(A continuing series based on photos taken in Kaua'i.)
“Being a fan”—it takes many forms in my state, especially during football season where it seems that everywhere you turn, there’s something about Seattle’s franchise team, the Seahawks. Oh, the merchandising and extremes of fans at games or game-watching venues, wearing gaudy blue-and-green gear, body paint, and dyed hair. And don’t forget to hoist that 12^th man flag—the 12^th being the extra combined “player” in the stands cheering on the eleven on the field bashing into each other.
 

I saw different kinds of “fans” in Kaua'i—ones with roots and extravagant split leafs that took me back to the uses of fans in ancient hot cultures. Think “throne room” and you’ll probably envision a servant on either side of the monarch, gently waving palm branches to keep the air circulating. No electricity needed—just cut a likely candidate from the royal gardens and put it in a slave’s hand.

People of ancient times also associated palm branches with goodness and victory. Palm branches have been found on coins and important buildings. King Solomon had palm branches carved into the temple’s walls and doors (1 Kings 6:29). But the Bible’s most significant mention of palm branches came at the end of Jesus’ earthly life.  John 12:12-19 describes Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem after three years of teaching and miracles, including the most recent and sensational miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead (chapter 11).

People were understandably ecstatic. Anyone who could heal the desperately sick, feed thousands with minimal resources, and taught against nit-picking religious rules—well, He had their vote even though, as subjects of foreign rulers, elections weren’t even possible  But their hopes for a change brought out a parade with all the festive and royal accouterments, like palm branches.

Thus we have “Palm Sunday,” knowing full well that the same adoring mob would, within days, demand His death.  In many churches, the hymn that day is “All Glory, Laud and Honor,” which we sing without knowing the story of suffering behind this ancient song.

Its author, Theodulph, was a native of either Italy or Spain who was brought to France by Charlemagne about 781.  A few years later he became Bishop of Orleans, and became known for trying to reform the clergy. Then came an epic royal family mix-up and false accusations against Theodulph, who was banned on Easter Sunday, 818 A.D., to solitary confinement in a monastery southwest of Paris.

Alone with his thoughts and his faith, he meditated on the Lord’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem and wrote this hymn of 78 verses (39 couplets). Three four-line couplets are in most hymnals today, including this verse:

The company of angels are praising Thee on high,
And mortal men and all things created make reply.
The people of the Hebrews with palms before Thee went,
Our praise and prayer and anthems before Thee we present.
 

But there’s more to look forward to.  Revelation’s sneak peek at heaven includes believers completing the Palm Sunday adoration:

After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.”  (Revelation 7:9)

Name-dropping

Part of a series based on photos taken in Kaua'i

We have a family friend named “Sylvester,” so when we spotted a St. Sylvester’s Church on the northeast shore of Kaua’i, I made sure I took a picture to show him.  The name “Sylvester” means “from the wood,” and it identified four popes of early Catholic church history. They held the posts long ago: in 314-335, 999-1003, two months in 1045, and 1105-111. One was connected with a healing that church leaders deemed miraculous, so later gained “St.” in front of his name.

 

The Bible gives a different criteria for the word “saint.” In writing up “creeds” (statements of Christian belief), early church leaders spoke of the “communion of saints,” referring to any set apart for their belief in Christ. Old Testament writers used three similar Hebrew words for “saints,” all suggesting “set-apart-ness.” They included:

Chasid (19x): kind, pious, as in Psalm 31:23: “O Love the LORD, all ye his saints.”
Qadosh (11x), qaddish (6x), and qodesh (1x): set apart, separate, holy, as in “Fear the LORD, ye his saints” (Psalm 34:9).

The New Testament’s Greek word for “saint,” hagios, is used sixty-two times and frequently means “set apart, separate, holy.”  The apostle Paul addressed his letters to “the saints” of such-and-such location.

One “saints” passage I find especially meaningful comes from Paul’s prayer for the Colossians. It concludes: …giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. (Colossians 1:12).  We’re not outsiders having to work our ways into God’s favor or into some “respect” list. Out of His generous love, He has conferred the title and responsibility of “saint,” set-apart one.

We bear the name of a God who wants us to bear His image to the world, imperfect as we are. There’s a story sometimes told about Alexander the Great—whether it’s true or not, scholars aren’t sure—that underscores behaving to honor the one you represent. As one version goes, a young, errant soldier (in various versions he’s AWOL, sleeping on duty, or has stolen a horse) was brought to Alexander for discipline. Something softened the great commander’s heart until he asked the lad his name. “Alexander, sir,” the young man said. The great conqueror’s demeanor hardened and he shouted, “Change your name or charge your conduct!” 

Interestingly, “saint” is an anagram of “stain.” Like the soldier, we may stain our testimony with failures. But First John 1:9 gives hope in failure: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive our sins, and to cleanse us from all iniquity.”

Sending the light

Second of a series based on photos taken in Kaua’i, the Hawaiian islands.

A postcard perfect sight, a classic lighthouse grips a cliff above the Pacific Ocean near the north shore town of Kilauea. It’s a few miles east of the island’s famed, steep and dangerous NaPali coastline, where huge cliffs plunge right to the sea. Only the brave and fit venture to hike the trail that links the ends-of-the-road on the north and west sides of Kuai’i. Tourists who can afford it take the helicopter tours along the picturesque, wild coast.

The lighthouse reminded me of Jesus’ proclamation in John 8:12:

I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.
It also brought to mind three well-known hymns and Gospel-songs about our spiritual Lighthouse.

 “Let the Lower Lights Be Burning,” by prolific Gospel musician Philip Bliss, was inspired by a sermon he heard evangelist D.L.Moody preach in 1871. Moody told a story of a ship approaching the harbor on a dark, stormy night.  The captain saw a light from a lighthouse. But no lower lights, which would mark the way into a harbor, were lit.  The pilot missed the channel into the harbor, and the boat wrecked on the rocks with much loss of life.  Moody appealed to his audience, “Brothers, the Master will take care of the great lighthouse! Let us keep the lower lights burning!” In other words, keep showing the way to the unsaved.  A stanza of Bliss’s hymn concludes:

Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave!
Some poor struggling, sinking sailor you may rescue, you may save!

 “Send the Light” came from the pen of Charles Gabriel, whose output included seven thousand hymns. While leading music at a San Francisco church, he was asked to compose a missionary hymn for Easter Sunday. A visiting missionary representative was in the congregation for its debut performance in 1890, and liked it so much he carried it back to the East. Many still know the hymn whose chorus goes:

Send the light, the blessed Gospel light,
Let it shine from shore to shore....forever more.

 “The Lighthouse,” a Southern Gospel-style song, was composed by Ronnie Hinson in 1970 in a most unlikely place: the men’s restroom of a church where he and his siblings were practicing for a concert.  They needed a new song for their concert, and thought Ronnie was kidding when he said he was going to the restroom for some inspiration.  He came back with the words he’d written on a length of toilet paper. The siblings added accompaniment, and the song became a hit. Here’s a strange twist: he had never seen a lighthouse before until later, when he biked thirty miles to Santa Cruz, Calif., and saw the Pigeon Point Lighthouse. For him, it reinforced the hand of God in this memorable song about salvation.

 
Burn the lower lights...send the light...Jesus as the lighthouse: what soul-touching music has risen from the tasks of a beacon tower on a rugged shore

Positives out of negatives

Page 286 of this book has
my chapter, "A Message at Stake."

Eighteen years ago today (October 11) my family was almost killed by a drinking driver. By coincidence, but also appropriately, this week I received my author copies of the newest "Chicken Soup for the Soul" anthology, subtitled "Think Possible."  My piece, one of 101 in the book, tells how Proverbs 3:25-26 helped me decide to bring positives out of this negative experience by speaking to convicted DUI offenders, urging them to drive sober from now on.

There's a detail in my story you may find fun, about a hidden blue plastic "it's a boy" plant stake I noticed in the potted chrysanthemum that somebody brought to express their concern and care. I was 50 years old the year of the accident, with no plans to enlarge the family.

Instead, the son who received the most injuries that night, enlarged the family. From his marriage came two delightful little grandsons, now  nine months and two years. We had lunch with them today, and as I fed the baby his pureed food (I think it was carrots) he lifted his arms and said "mmm, mmm, mmm" all the way through.

Life doesn't always offer us "mmm-good" experiences. The wreck was traumatic and frustrating. But we lived, by the grace of God, who can lead us to redeem our pain.

During my writing career I have contributed to about two dozen books. This is my fifth time in the best-selling Chicken Soup anthologies since 2006.  Other titles I'm in are those for "Chicken Soup 2," "New Mom's Soul," "Caregiver's Soul" and "Here Comes the Bride."  The book uses writers from a broad spectrum of belief systems, but I'm grateful that I can represent Christ through this avenue. My message is not about a "positive attitude," per se, as much as trusting God to bring good out of difficult circumstances. Or as the scripture I cited in my essay says (it's also one that I have marked "Oct. 11, 1997" in the margin of my Bible):
Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked,
For the LORD will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being snared.

Careful: endangered ones crossing

In September, my husband and I enjoyed a generous gift of nearly a week in Kaua’i, the northern “Garden Island” of the Hawaiian chain. Our son and daughter-in-law arranged the mini-vacation as appreciation for a year-plus of babysitting while they worked. Our “sitting” was win-win for us—no pay expected—as we invested in vulnerable babies and had confidence that their day-care (us!) met our standards J.  This gift-trip allowed us to unplug from tasks and concerns “back home.” As we drove around the island, I snapped photos of things that reminded me of God’s fingerprints. I start sharing them with this blog post.

As a mother and grandmother, I could relate to this sign intended to protect Hawaii’s state bird, the endangered nene (the name sounds something like the goose’s soft call). Found in the wild only in the Hawaiian islands, in 1950 the birds were close to extinction with only fifty left. A half-century later, they had grown back to about 800, but were still considered “endangered.”

The state is working to restore a healthy population of nene and other native birds at risk. During our visit, tropical storms slammed the islands. One wild night of thunder and lightning resulted in “navigation confusion” for about a hundred endangered seabirds, most of them “Newell’s shearwaters,” which fell from the sky and needed rehab; nine died.

Other protective tactics are signs like this one at a cramped parking area near a habitat overlook area, where it’s tempting to throw the birds human junk food. This sign brought to mind a Bible verse I learned in Sunday school as a small child:.

See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.  Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of God is. (Ephesians 5:15-17 KJV).
I didn’t understand it at the time, but I connected it with the illustrations in a classic children’s book my family owned: Make Way for Ducklings. Like the book’s ducks following their mommy duck in an obedient row, I was to follow my Sunday school teachers and parents in living “circumspectly,” which, whatever it meant, sounded quite serious!

 As an adult, I had that verse clarified for me in a newer translation:

Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord’s will is.

Ephesians 5 details the differences between “the light” (God’s way) and “the dark” (Satan’s temptations). Such choices faced us one evening when we visited the hotel’s free-to-guests video kiosk, thinking we’d choose one. But as we scrolled through the various available movies, nothing seemed right for us as Christians. Violence, sex, crime and abnormal behavior characterized nearly all.  Even the cartoons had doubtful content.  We left empty-handed. Interestingly, the next morning we picked up a copy of the island’s newspaper and read of school children taking a public vow to quit watching violent movies and videos. The day’s editorial lamented the demise of more innocent television shows, like Mayberry “sheriff” Andy Griffith.

I thought of the nene bird crossing sign, and the warning not to feed the birds. I asked myself: Is my culture wisely supervising what goes in our children’s minds, or is it inviting them to peck at garbage?

Extra-large was extra-wrong

My local store had put away most of its
swim suits to make room for fall attire,
but imagine this in leopard print.

All I wanted was a peach-colored shirt to go with a scarf my daughter had brought back for me from China. And I had found one, but the wrong size.

The store’s catalog clerk happily punched in the numbers to special-order one for me, and about a week later I found a phone message that it had come in.  Rushing to the store, I claimed the package and went back home.

Opening it, I found, not the medium-size peach shirt, but a women’s XXL bathing suit in jungle print so amazing and bold that I was certain I could hear lions and rhinos in the background.

Of course, I exchanged it (I provided the store clerks with their laugh of the day).  My husband asked why I didn’t keep it, as my very modest swimming suit is thirty years old. There was this issue of “swimming” in a very generously-proportioned swim suit.

Sometimes, I think, we are guilty of generously-proportioned praying that reeks of “Self.”  Like this:

For mySELF Lord, if You don’t mind, I’d like a perfect body [no more shopping in the gnormous sizes section], impeccable health [make me a pain-free zone], a Harvard I.Q., and a stress-free job that allows me to buy my move-in-ready dream house with cash.    

I know this goes against “name-it-claim-it” teaching.  But I wonder if we often reduce God to a prayer-order catalogue. We tend to advertise Christ as the One who takes away our pain and sorrow as we fill out the order form with grand requests for the way we’d like life to happen.

A prime example of that was the Zebedee brothers. Two Gospel accounts (Matt. 20:20-28 and Mark 10:35-45) recount a conversation in which they (or, in one version, their pushy mother) asked for high honors in Christ’s kingdom.  Jesus asked if they were ready to drink the cup He was to drink—and He didn’t mean orange soda. He meant giving one’s life for another, as He would soon do at Calvary. Serving others. Being willing to be last, not first.

The believer who serves is often one who’s had to learn the hard lessons that we don’t pray for a perfect life. Ease does not build spiritual muscle.  Fame doesn’t guarantee faithfulness. God knows exactly what is our best “fit.” When we place an order by prayer, we ask, “Not my will, but thine.” Often, what He brings our way is lots better than what we imagined.

Maybe with the exception of wrong-size swimsuits.

When senselessness strikes

Thursday's mass shootings at a college in Oregon have again shocked us. I wrote this piece after the 2012 shootings at an elementary school in Connecticut. Because my husband is a retired (and still subbing) teacher, those shootings at public schools hit us hard.  I think the principles here are worth republishing as we pray and try to make sense of this sick act.

 Not again, I groaned as I caught “breaking news” of another mass killing spree. Again, I grieved for innocent victims struck down in their offices, schools, places of worship, athletic events and other public places.

I also thought of those I know who survive such terrifying incidents. Some friends’ trip to a Portland, Ore., shopping mall ended with them huddling in a dressing room while a shooter went on his rampage. I once met a teen girl who nearly lost her arm in the first school shooting in 1996 in Washington state. She was sitting in math class; three died that day.

As a Christian, I can’t ignore these events. They remind me of the desperate consequences of sin. They also press me closer to God as I seek His perspective and hope. Here are some things I’ve found helpful when senselessness strikes. 

1. Limit media saturation. Excessive watching or reading of emerging news reports heighten focus on the evil event and the secular world view. Don’t let the world squeeze you into its thinking mold (Romans 12:2). Learn enough to know how to pray, and then do pray for the victims and those affected, including the media and emergency workers. Lift up those called on to convey God-honoring comfort and counsel, such as pastors and Christian counselors.

2. Remember history. Godless insanity and violence are nothing new. Old Testament history churns with wars and violence. Early Christians were persecuted and martyred. The greatest picture of evil came on a hill in Jerusalem, where three men were impaled on crosses to die. One was sinless, the Lord Jesus.   

 3. Rest in knowing that God knows. The Bible says the last days will see an “increase of wickedness” (Matthew 24:12). In His omniscience, God knows beforehand about every crime or killing. He sorrows over each, even as He knew ahead of time the unfathomable cost of His Son’s death: “He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one” (Psalm 22:24).

4. Trust His love and wisdom. Christ’s death and resurrection put a stake in the ground: Satan is not the final victor. So when another heartbreaking incident of public violence happens, don’t let intense media coverage fuel a hopeless perspective.  God’s answer for us is the same He gave the Old Testament’s Job, when this good man was stripped of all by violent schemes and natural disasters: “Trust Me. Acknowledge My sovereignty.”

Amid unspeakable loss and pain in our times, He is still there. His hands are those of rescue workers, medical people, counselors and friends. He also uses believers to pray rather than fret over news of violence. Psalm 22:27 shows the other side, when senselessness will finally make sense: “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him.”

Get it!

When I open up my internet’s “home page,” besides the usual distressing news, I sometimes spot a “teaser photo” of a silly cat feature. These are the ones with cats playing the piano or chasing laser-pen beams up the wall. Ho, hum, my son’s cat has chased lasers for years. In fact, the cat wore out one laser pointer so I took over ours, which our cat had no interest in. Actually, our cat would dismiss himself when he saw the dot running around the rug.

Not so “Rosebud,” my son’s cat—she (now “it”) of exceeding fluff and two-color eyes, adopted from an animal shelter.  Absolutely an indoor cat (except for rogue slipping out the door when groceries are being carried in), her life consists mostly of sleeping, carrying around her grungy Ty © toys, slipping under the furniture covers to illegally scratch the upholstery, and letting her humans know (1) she is hungry or (2) her litter box is foul beyond belief.

 

She comes alive, however, when the dot from a laser pointer starts dancing over the rug and up the wall. Her vertical leaps, for her girth and weight, would make her a star recruit for a pro basketball team. My two-year-old grandson stands there and hoots (which is funny enough in itself) when a parent engages the cat in the fantasies of laser play.

Chasing after fantasies....that reminds me of some ho-hums from a book of the Bible, written by a king who had all the wealth and entertainment earth could offer.
I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind. (Ecclesiastes 1:14)
Had he lived today, Solomon might have edited that to “chasing after the cat toy with a laser beam.”

 My point (pun intended) is this: We can be numbed by artificial pleasure or seek after the God who provides genuine and pure pleasure.  Remember, Adam and Eve were created with all the senses that brought enjoyment.  For example, I can’t imagine an apple with the taste and texture of cardboard.  God really packed that fruit with pleasure: color, crunch, taste, smell. Without the capacity for pleasure, we’d be robots.

But if we pursue only “pleasure,” we’re missing the real deal.  Having created us in His image, God also intended for us to pursue things that reflect His character. Paul gave us a good list of “pursue-afters” in both his letters to Timothy, his protégé and a young pastor surrounded by pleasure-seeking.  These included: righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness and peace (1 Timothy  6:11, 2 Timothy 2:22).

Such character qualities aren’t flashy (like the cat’s elusive laser toy), but they’ll go a long ways in building a life that’s meaningful.

Cast Away

One of the most important pieces of furniture in our kitchen is “Igor.”  Thanks to four hefty batteries, he obediently yawns open whenever we wave his direction with things to throw away. Yes, we have allowed ourselves the charming luxury of a magic-eye trash can, whom we affectionately named for its “eager-ness” (Igor-ness) to open and shut.  He replaced a trusty old plastic trash can that after several decades had terminal hinge fatigue despite attempts to extend its life with duct tape. 

At times I could wish for a spiritual “Igor,” who’d yawn open and swallow all the banana peels and coffee grounds of my spiritual life.  (Yes, I know I should be “green” and composting, but that’s another subject.) My human-condition (read that: sin nature) means I’ve had to deal with a lot of garbage, some of my own, some slopped into my life by others.  I’m talking about stinky attitudes, messy situations, the foulness of anxiety and worry, the sludge of grudges.

I’m often drawn back to The Lists in Galatians 5.  Galatia was no Mayberry which barely kept Andy Griffith and his comic deputy occupied. The list in verses 19-21 make you think “Vegas,” except what happened in Galatia-Vegas didn’t stay there. It stunk enough to bring out Paul’s censure—everything from immorality to fouled relationships and out-of-control behavior. 

Open, Igor.  Here comes the trash life.

I’m grateful Paul didn’t stop at these negatives.  He goes on to name God-pleasing traits that come from a life under Christ’s control: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Nothing trashy here.

“Since we live by the spirit,” Paul said, “let us keep in step with the Spirit.” It’s not a passive thing where God sprinkles “God-goodness” all over me as I waltz through the tulips. Instead, He’s at work conforming me to His image. Making me Christ-like.  Getting rid of the trash-life.  Nudging me to review the Owner’s Manual (the Bible).

Open wide, Igor.  I  have some sin confessions to cast your way.  Yeah, that stinky attitude...that wormy worry....that occasion of putrid pride....   How grateful I am that He clamps down the lid: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

Grin & share it!

Here’s my second grandson, Zion, doing a “test drive” on a baby-safe rocking horse my husband found at a yard sale.  I’d say he liked it. Now nine months old, he’s a jug of joy. Maybe those smiles are extra special because during the first four months of his life, until his first cleft lip surgery, that little mouth had a split up through his nose and he had to endure pre-op treatments of mouth-molding devices and taping.  Often when I hold him, if I smile at him, he brightens up and returns a 100-watt grin.  Of course, like any baby, he has his fussy times. But the pure joy we sense in his smiles certainly overcompensates for the times we get the “baby grumps.”

“Joy” is one of those misunderstood virtues of the Christian life.  It’s not the shallow “happy-all-the-time” personality.  It’s the deep sense of being settled in the love of God, knowing nothing that happens is outside His wisdom and permission.  Joy faces the worst—in trust.  Jesus “for the joy set before him endured the cross” (Hebrews 12:2).  James wrote, “Consider it pure joy...whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance” (James 1:2-3). With chains dangling off his wrists, Paul wrote the Christians at Philippi: “Rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil. 4:5—the entire letter, in fact, has 15 uses of “joy” or “rejoice”).

Someone once tried to define “joy” with an acrostic of its English letters, of loving “Jesus, Others, Yourself.” I once bristled at that, thinking that loving “yourself” was quite ego-centric and didn’t belong in the mix.  Now I realize that J.O.Y. is a triangle, with all points reaching to each other. When we love Jesus, we love ourselves (meaning have a healthy view of we are in Christ).  When we love ourselves, we reach out and love others. Back again, loving others reveals our love for Christ.  I recall having someone ask me, “Why is so-and-so unfriendly at church? They never smile or talk to me.”  Knowing a bit of the background, I tried to explain that this person was on the journey of loving others and loving God, and needing some life skills in reaching out to strangers.  Hey, haven’t most of us been on that journey? 

That’s where smiling babies like Zion and his toddler brother Josiah have a built-in advantage.  In those times when the joy-factor peaks in their little lives, we can enjoy the moment with them.  Such joy is contagious, let this grandma assure you! You should see ME grin when I hear a little two-year-old shout in glee, “Nana!” Yes, I'm enjoying the "ride" of investing in this next generation.

Should old acquaintance be forgot...

Yes, that's me in the upper-right corner, in 1965.

Growing older has its advantages, like senior coffee at McDonald’s and senior discounts at various stores. (For some reason, our “Senior Center Thrift Store” doesn’t have senior discounts. Hmm.) This year I reached another “senior event” about which I had mixed feelings: my fiftieth high school reunion. In 1965 I was among 460 teenagers graduating from Puyallup High School on the west side of Washington state.

 I gave my high school years my best effort, graduating in the top twelve academically. The class “brain,” no surprise, got a doctorate from Yale. (Two B’s in physical education kept me from a 4.0.  I married a physical education teacher. Go figure.) A decade after high school, the many friends who penned in my annual that they’d remember me forever had shrunk to two who sent Christmas greetings for a few years. In those decades before social media, if you didn’t write, call, or get together, friendships tended to fizzle, especially if you moved away from the core community of graduates.   

When the invitation came, I debated over spending $100 a couple for the event at a local casino (presuming drinks and dancing were part of the plan). The strongest drinks in our house are Pepsi or morning-blend coffee. I’ve only done “happy dancing” when I got a book contract in the mail.  My “gambling” is taking a risk on pull-date yogurt from the local discount grocery.  Plus, the reunion was scheduled for our wedding anniversary, and a three-hour drive away. I decided to stay home.

The organizers were doing a “reunion annual” and invited class members to submit a “bio” telling what they had done since high school. Not surprisingly, the student body president became a doctor and the football star spent his life in construction. Many wrote of buying big boats and RVs for retirement. Some had seen the world in military service. One taught in Japan for 26 years. Another spent more than forty years in public relations and lobbying across the nation in Washington, D.C.

 A classmate I didn’t remember earned a doctorate in gerontology and conducted 2,000 workshops in places like Thailand, China, Northern Marianas, Guam and Canada. Oh yes, she also volunteered in Mongolia, trekked with gorillas in Rwanda, and horse-camped in Turkey. Another classmate, to her doctor’s amazement, survived brain cancer.  But the last page held names of 67 members who’d passed away—15% of the class. Some guys may have lost their lives in the Vietnam War. Even 50 years later, without going to our original annual, I could recall their faces

Our daily treks through the wood-floored halls of an old school had united us. But our life choices had separated us.  So had our spiritual choices. I considered going to the reunion for the opportunity to tell what Christ had done for me. But the celebration venue didn’t really lend itself to that. Instead, in my “reunion annual bio” I mentioned that a certain Bible verse had been my life guide.

I know of people who used alumni connections to the glory of God. One from my husband’s high school class went away to West Point and a distinguished military career. But upon retiring to his hometown, he contacted fellow alumni and invited them to participate in a monthly E-mailed prayer request list.

The “golden class reunion” did take me one place, to Psalm 90, attributed to Moses. Two verses especially seemed appropriate for perspective on milestones:

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom (v. 12)
May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands. (v. 17)

No social event can compete with what’s ahead for those who have trusted Christ. The heavenly “graduation” will surpass it all!

The Junk Jungle

I hesitate to use the words “treasure chest” or “bargains galore,” but about an hour’s drive away there’s a junk store we always visit when in that town.  My husband walks around back to the recycling area where he can harvest parts off broken bikes for less-broken ones he’s trying to restore to usefulness.  I step carefully through the guardians of the front door: tired sofas, television shelves and other furniture ingloriously stored outside in all sorts of weather.  Want to reupholster furniture?  Have they got a deal for you.  Inside, the warehouse is crammed. Mattresses are stacked sideways like slices in a loaf of bread, and you weave down aisles between mountains of stuff on top of stuff on top of stuff.

Then there’s the “kitchen room,” with its teetering shelves of kitchenware, baskets, frames, and knickknacks.  Dusty? That’s understatement.  I venture in there in search of older cast iron fry pans for a friend who cleans and re-sells them in an antique mall. But as I round the corner to go out, I have conflicting feelings about the conglomerate of little figurines, cookie jars, china tea cups, and other decorative things dumped here.  Most were likely leftovers from emptying a home after death. At one point, they represented something to the person who owned them.  Now they’re like those recently unburied terra cotta soldiers in China--relics of mystery.

 

The “junk jungle” brings two big ideas to me.  One is that we keep so much stuff!  We attach great importance to things that cannot love us back.  Yes, I have some “tokens of memories” around.  But trying to dispose of my late mother’s enormous salt and pepper shaker collection cured me of taking up a hobby that involved amassing “like things.” I wonder what sort of things people collected in Bible times. We know that women wore headpieces or jewelry with gold coins as part of their dowry, a real-life insurance policy if something happened to a spouse.  And people probably just liked “nice” things. I think of the rich young man who said he was spiritually “right” by keeping all the commandments since his youth.  But when Jesus asked him to sell all he owned and give to the poor, he couldn’t do that.  “Stuff” and riches held him back (Mark 10).

 

The second thought that comes as I circle that cluttered “junque” room is the unfathomable love of God.  We may feel like rejected, dusty, chipped trinkets that nobody wants any more. But God doesn’t see us that way. What the prophet Isaiah said of God’s value system (here, regarding Israel, but in the bigger picture also us) helps me envision Him going in that junk room and taking one dusty, neglected piece after another and saying, “I have chosen you. You are precious to me.”  Or, as the scripture passage puts it:

You are precious and honored in my sight....I love you. (Isaiah 43:4)
Many of the items at that thrift store have no marked price, so when you go to pay, the person in charge of the cash register says what he or she feels is an appropriate price.  Sometimes you can bargain, but usually not.  And here’s where the analogy breaks down.  “Stuff” has little value in the junk store. But we're not unwanted castoffs. We're are so valuable to God that He paid the highest price imaginable for us—the death of His son, Jesus.