AUTOGRAPHED

I'm not an autograph-collector, but when I heard that Edith Schaeffer was to speak at my Bible college's weekly assembly, I grabbed my copy of her book Hidden Art and took a seat in the front row. What a privilege to see and hear a woman who with her husband, Francis, carved an indelible place in groundbreaking Christian apologetics. She also brought dignity to the simple arts: of personal pleasure in music, art, gardening, hospitality and homemaking. As the assembly ended, with unusual boldness on my part, I hurried up on the stage with my copy of her book, the cover open and pen in hand. She knew what that meant, smiled, and signed it. That was it. I faded away as others came behind me.

This was the late 1970s when the apologetics ministry of their Swiss compound L'Abri was becoming internationally known. Francis rose to worldwide prominence as a defender of the faith against existentialism and liberal theology. L'Abri welcomed spiritual seekers who jammed the alpine site. Her visit to my campus in 1977 was a big deal. Francis would die of cancer in 1984; Edith would live to 98, dying in 2013. This was one of her twenty books.

Whenever I open that book and see her handwriting, I'm reminded of something else: that we represent the handwriting of God on this planet. Yes, “handwriting” is a metaphor, but it's found in the Bible, as in Isaiah 49. There, through the prophet, God says He will never forget his people, any more than a loving mother forget the baby she nurses. It goes on:

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.(v. 16)

These days, people short on paper might ink a reminder on the hands, to be washed out later. But here the Hebrew word describes cutting--something more permanent. God has permanently autographed His hand with my name.

To look at it another way, most authors are glad to sign books they have written. I had the privilege of having several Christian living books published about patience, encouragement, and trusting God in life's hard places. When I spoke somewhere, I took books along—as most speakers do—and people asked me to sign them, usually with a “to” somebody before my name. I was glad to do so, identifying myself with the message.

Here's the bigger truth: each of us begins as a blank book. Our thoughts and actions –good and bad--fill their pages. The book that Edith Schaeffer autographed celebrated God's amazing works in the ordinary processes of life. She explored creativity and creation with robust thanksgiving to God. As I went through an emotionally and creative “lean” time in my life, I needed its encouragement for my own future with God.

As a new year opens, maybe that's the message many of us need. We're encouraged to put off the old past and embrace a new future: “Forgetting what is behind...straining toward what is ahead” in God's plan  (Phil. 4:13). We're given a blank book. What fills it up this year depends on each of us—and whose Name we choose to inscribe on its cover as the co-Author.

P.S. In researching “autographs,” I came across this site by a sports card collector. He featured sports personalities whose collector cards included a favorite Bible verse. What a way to witness!

Bible Verses on Autographs - TTM Autograph - Through The Mail Autograph Collecting

IMAGINATIVE

Oh, the land of make-believe! You know: the tales of a lovely, kind young woman being mistreated, and then fate bringing to her the prince who falls in love on the spot and marries her! I thought of that fare when I saw this Cinderella-type quilt at our county fair. Oh yes, in my girlhood I had a small collection of fairy tale books—thank you, Disney. I dreamed over its drawings of magnificent castles and voluminous ball gowns (accenting their wearers' teensy waists!). Someday, would my prince come and whisk me away to a castle?

Now my little five-year-old granddaughter is going through the “princess” stage. On our last visit, I started reading to her from her stash of fairy tale books. One about Cinderella was the same edition as I had as a child—an antique, for sure! But as soon as I read the last word, off my lap she jumped, running to her room. A few minutes later she emerged in her Cinderella costume. I knew she had the one for Queen Elsa (from “Frozen”) as she had paraded in that (with its filmy train, sparkly crown and wand) soon after we came to visit. Probably by now she has the costume for “Snow White,” her reported latest princess “thing.”

Imagination. Dream worlds. You'd think they'd be confined to children, but not so. When I open the “home page” of my computer, there's inevitably an ad promoting some imaginative-land computer game with the claim, “Try this and you'll be hooked.” I won't even start in on the prolific array of video games that range from woodsy-fairy-stories to the brutal and ugly. They do not feed the soul. They gorge the users with twisted ideas of reality and ungodly values. They fill the pockets of their manufacturers and leave their users spiritually impoverished.

Yes, it's a long ways from children's fairy tales to the utterly base or fake fare some people invite into their minds. But the temptations present an important question, popularized years ago with the revival of a classic Christian book that asked: “What would Jesus do?” Would He waste time following enchanted forest animals or a stern warrior princess or adrenaline-pumping interplanetary warfare as these spill across a television or computer screen?

Though not altogether true about real world systems, there's value in classic children's “hero” tales. They clearly show the difference between good and evil. Snow White is a pure maiden, only wanting to do good. Her life spared (despite the intents of her evil stepmother), she finds new purpose in serving a hidden-away conclave of miniature miners. But the jealous stepmother is their contrast: arrogant, self-centered, bitter, given to rages of anger.

Wait! Aren't the stepmother's problems also the values of today's world powers bent on destruction, responsible for incomprehensible human suffering? Perhaps in their own way, these little fairy tales prepare young minds for the greater conflict of good and evil with which Faith wrestles. And lest we forget: Jesus was called the “Prince of Peace.” His story was not of rescuing some damsel in distress, but redeeming a wounded world. A feeding trough for a crib isn't very royal, nor is an executioner's cross on a hill a romantic-castle-ending. But our story as Christians has the best ending: “He is risen! He is risen indeed!” This is no fairy tale. It's the real story of a God who created us, grieved our sin choices, and offers hope through a Savior amidst the world's darkness.

“Watch yourself,” Paul warned the Galatian church about getting caught in sinful choices, “or you also may be tempted” (Galatians 6:1). In other words, be very careful about the world's trendy entertainment choices. We have only a limited amount of time to live. Why waste it on what won't matter eternally?

THOU DIDST LEAVE THY THRONE

A monthly series on a hymn of the faith.
You've probably heard the question, “Can anything good come out of”—and then, they give the name of the town. In Jesus' time, a guy named Nathaniel famously asked this of an amazing Teacher in his area known as Jesus, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (John 1:46). There are two questions like this connected to this month's hymn. One is, “Can anything good come out of Brighton, England?” This British city on the English channel, about two hours' drive south of London, has actually been the home address of many celebrities, including author Rudyard Kipling. Lesser known names are connected to Christian hymns, including Charlotte Elliott, who wrote “Just As I Am,” and her niece Emily Elliott, an Anglican minister's daughter. 

Like many church women of the Victorian era, Emily was involved in service to rescue missions and Sunday school roles. That included editing a magazine for Sunday school workers, and writing poems and hymn lyrics. A collection of 48 of her hymn lyrics was published under the title, Under the Pillow, intended as bedside reading for the sick in hospitals, infirmaries, or at home.

Perhaps the second question would be: "Can anything good come out of Bethlehem?" The answer is a resounding, prophecy-fulfilling YES! This hymn grew out of her desire to express Biblical truths to children in simple ways. That included the amazing theological truth that God sent His Son in the form of a baby to eventually die as our Savior from sins. She captured those opposites in the hymn's opening lines:

Thou didst leave thy throne and thy kingly crown,

When thou camest to earth for me;

This is the hymn of “buts”--

“But in Bethlehem's home was there found no room...”

“But of lowly birth didst thou come to earth....”

“But thy couch was the sod, O thou Son of God...”

“But with mocking scorn and with crown of thorn, they bore thee to Calvary.”

Her hymn covers birth to eternal life--with the last line an invitation:

When the heavens shall ring and the angels sing

At thy coming to victory,

Let Thy voice call me home, saying “Yes, there is room,

“There is room at My side for thee.”

And my heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus,

When Thou comest and callest me.

The hymn tune for her lyrics was composed by Timothy Matthews, an English clergyman and one of the leading organists of his day, responsible for some one hundred hymn tunes.

A Christmas song? Yes, and it's often placed among hymns celebrating Jesus' birth. But its lyrics remind us that we not only celebrate a baby in a manger, but His purpose as a Savior.

This link goes to a choral performance of the hymn's first verse:

Thou Didst Leave Thy Throne - The Majesty and Glory Performers [with lyrics] - Bing video

NEIGHBORHOOD

This quilt, featured at our county fair this fall, prompted me to stop and reflect on so much housing crunched together. I thought of cities where I'd lived or visited. Some had tucked-tight yet immaculate historic row townhouses. Others, shabby slum apartment buildings. I'll never forget sitting in a worn seat on a clattering elevated train in downtown Chicago as it passed derelict apartment buildings splattered with graffiti. I had no desire to get off at the next stop and tour the area!

Yet people lived there, likely amidst pain, poverty and crime. I was surprised recently, in reading a biography of prolific blind hymn-lyric writer Fanny Crosby (1820-1915), to learn that she lived in such housing in a New York slum. Nearby were neighborhoods known by such unsavory names as “Hell's Kitchen.” She couldn't see the crumbling housing, of course, but had chosen to live there so that she would be within walking distance of rescue missions where she could talk to people about Jesus.

It wasn't that she didn't have enough money for a better place to live. But she chose to direct royalties from her 8,000-some hymn lyrics to ministries for those in need. The Lord saw her generosity, and also provided her practical needs. One of her faithful friends was a well-to-do Christian lady who, I'm sure, helped Fanny with things like food and clothing. Remember, Fanny was blind! Pictures show her dressed in all black with tiny black spectacles covering her eyes, blinded in infancy from a quack medicine. Fashion didn't mean much to her. Her passion was writing Christian poetry.

For some reason, her story came to mind as I recalled how the late Eugene Peterson, in his scripture paraphrase called “The Message,” expressed John 1:14: “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.” The KJV puts it: “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” And NIV: “The Word became flesh and lived for a while among us.”

“The neighborhood.” The term comes with all sorts of connotations today. Some have mansions with views, lovely yards...and doors and windows buttressed with alarms, multiple locks, and security cameras. Others consist of crammed, dirty dwellings with few safety measures.

The one Jesus entered was the latter. His newborn cradle was a feeding trough; the floor, manure and straw. He grew up in a family with its own humble home, but itinerant ministry meant sleeping outdoors or as someone's guest on a borrowed cot or ledge. No security men with walkies talkies or karate skills surrounded Him as He became famous, just ordinary fishermen and tax collectors who risked all to follow Him.

He left the splendor of Heaven...and moved into earth's humble neighborhoods. Back to the quilt—could this be another symbol of Christmas? Of the One who moved into “the neighborhood” on planet earth with the most humble beginning possible?

My son and daughter, now parents themselves, have children who watch the reruns of the late children's show “Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.” His signature song included the line, “Won't you be my neighbor?” He taught his viewers about his neighbors' occupations. He greeted the mailman with special enthusiasm. The tone of his show was “kindness.”

Maybe that's the key to seeing this quilt as a Christmas symbol. For another scripture about “God moving into the neighborhood” goes like this: “Because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved” (Ephesians 2:4-5). He moved into earth's sin-stained neighborhoods to gift us with saving grace and kindness. And that's a Christmas “story” that can be told all year around.

DISCOMBOBULATION

Welcome to the fictional Very Long Words Dictionary with today's 16-letter featured word. It means “confusion or disorder.” Maybe like the pile by my washer when dirty clothes are dumped there to sort and wash. Or maybe for those mixed-up times in life when nothing makes sense. When admiring quilts at our local county fair, this “discombobulated” one—a “Crazy Quilt”--got my attention!

With their haphazard designs, crazy quilts are a lot like life. Lucinda Secrest McDowell, in her book Quilts from Heaven (Broadman and Holman, 1999, p. 129), explained that such quilts became popular just after the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. That's when quilters took a liking to Japan's asymmetrical art. Scraps of velvet, silks and brocades, joined by fancy needlework, became lap robes and such for fancy parlor décor.

Until reading her book, I didn't know that! I have something of a “crazy quilt” my late mother created of random triangles more than half a century ago—places of it now rotting--as she used up scraps from her prolific sewing hobby. I just figured her quilt showed thrift in action. The idea of impressing others never came to mind.

But then...aren't there times when people might put on airs or use fancy words to try to impress? I admit, people don't usually throw around high-brow words, like “tumescent” (used of pompous or pretentious language) or the similar “altiloquest” (basically the same definition). But I've experienced situations in which someone embellished common words with prefixes or suffixes, creating highfalutin “non-words” whose intent and effect was to wound the reader or hearer.

God, who granted us the gifts of verbal and written communication, is honored when we use those gifts well. But abuse of language isn't new. As I read Paul's epistles, I notice how often he had to remind folks to watch their words. Like this: Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen” (Ephesians 4:29). The King James version ends it: “... that it may minister grace unto the hearer.” Grace: a simple, strong word for doing what honors God.

More often than we want, life will seem “discombobulated,” like the mishmash of fabrics in a crazy quilt. In this imperfect world, we endure the ragged pieces of sorrow, hurt, disappointment and grief. But there's a better plan ahead, in Heaven. The aging apostle John, given a vision behind the curtain hiding God's restored --recombobulated--future, saw the praise and glory of dwelling in God's presence forever (Revelation 21:5).

By the way, if you're driven to impress, here's the 2020 winner of the longest English word:

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

It refers to lung disease caused by silica dust. Not something I'd use in everyday conversation.