FIRST THINGS

Under the category “New Year,” many traditional hymnals include one titled “Another Year is Dawning.” Its lyrics were composed by a modest, behind-the-scenes Britisher named Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879). Daughter of an Anglican clergyman, she lost her mother when only eleven years old. But poetry that honored God stirred within her, and she'd write the lyrics to some 100 hymns, including the better-known hymn of consecration, “Take My Life and Let It Be.” And that is how she lived—a lifelong single—letting God live within her until her early death at age 42.

The “New Year” hymn begins like this: Another year is dawning! Dear Master, let it be,/In working or in waiting, another year with thee./Another year of leaning upon thy loving breast,/Of even-deepening trustfulness, of quiet, happy rest.

I've never been much for staying up on New Year's eve until the clock struck twelve. Maybe it's weariness from all the consumerism that has come to characterize the whole Christmas season and how alcohol seems to reign in the holiday partying. Give me instead a cup of warm cocoa and a quiet place to think about the past and anticipate what God has planned for the future.

Maybe we can learn a thing or two from Jewish culture. Their “new year” celebration, “Rosh Hashanah,” one of seven Jewish “feasts,” is one of three in the autumn. The name comes from the command to blow trumpets, and traditionally the shofar (made from a ram's horn) sounds the call to pause and examine one's life before God.

And isn't that the meaning behind the Lord's Supper (“communion”) in Christian churches? And when “communion” is scheduled for late New Year's Eve, or even at midnight, a reverent, humble attitude toward God is a lot more meaningful than some huge glittering ball dropping above a crowd of revelers in an alcohol-fueled environment. It's not about the calendar going from one numbered year to another. It's about what the apostle Paul called “forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead.” And in doing to, to “press on toward the call to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13b-14).

Or, as Miss Havergal put it, a fresh opportunity for “ever-deepening trustfulness, of quiet, happy rest.”

Join a congregation in singing this hymn:

Anotheryear is dawning - Bing video

BIRTHDAY SONG

It seems so incongruent that a King would have the most inadequate “bassinet” around. An animal feeding trough, not a crib with a pristine sheet and safety-approved side rails. No nice receiving blanket or soft sleeper, just strips of coarse cloth wound about Him to keep Him snug and serve as a type of diaper. Today, when the little kids (or even adults) re-enact the nativity scene (bless those shepherds in Dad's robe), we tend to forget the original “maternity ward” for the King of Kings was cold, crude and dirty.

Yet that's how God chose to write His Son's birthday story. He stooped to earth to raise us up to eternal life.

If left to human standards of celebration, Christ's birth would have been a presidential inauguration and royal coronation all rolled into one, and more besides. Parades! Bands! Extensive media coverage! But God doesn't need glitz to spread the Gospel. Possibly, we're ill equipped to accord Him the infinitely indescribable honor and glory that is His.

This past month or so, I've been reading and re-reading Psalm 89. It's a lengthy one, in which God's love and faithfulness—and the anointed reign of King David—get top billing. But between the lines extolling a human ruler are the parallels of the great Heavenly King who begin His long-prophesied reign in a chilly barn.

The heavens are yours, and yours also the earth; you founded the world and all that is in it....

Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; love and faithfulness go before you.

Blessed are those who have learned to acclaim you, who walk in the light of your presence, O Lord.

They rejoice in your name all day long; they exalt in your righteousness. For you are their glory and strength....(vv. 11, 14-17)

When I'm around a newborn baby, my voice is soft, tender. They are so fragile and vulnerable to loud and surprising sounds. (I wonder how Baby Jesus coped with the barn-mates' baas and moos!) But this psalm reminds me: it's okay to acclaim and rejoice—verbs that imply loud and joyful praise.

I like the quiet, lullaby-like Christmas hymns, like “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” and “Silent Night.” But this sacred holiday of celebration also calls for :”Joy to the World,” “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and “All Come, All Ye Faithful.”

Sing with gusto and joy! It's okay....He's no longer the “baby Jesus” needing a quiet nursery setting (if that was ever possible in a primitive animal shelter). As the the writer of Psalm 89 suggested with words like “rejoice” and “exalt,” this is the time to sing out with gladness. A King is born! More important, a Savior has come!

ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE

A visual reminder of a famous quote: "The
fragrance remains in the hand that gave the rose."

Have you recently endured (to paraphrase a classic children’s book) a horrible, terrible, no-good very bad day? Such are times that we chafe a bit at Bible verses that command us to be thankful. You know, like this:

Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5:17-18)

That doesn’t leave much room for griping about people, problems, pressures, or other perturbing things of life. Impossible? We might think so. And then we run into people who live on a higher standard and inspire us. One was my former pastor, who married us 41 years ago and recently died just after turning ninety. Yes, ninety. At his memorial, his daughter shared that she’d found some of his old journals, dating back nearly forty years. Every day he had written down things for which he was thankful to the Lord. Thousands of thankful items! And that included the difficult, discouraging years of caring at home for his wife, who slipped away slowly of dementia.

All circumstances.

Impossible, except with God’s help, and trust that He knows the bigger picture.

I’ve been around Major Worriers in my lifetime and have to admit to being one myself. But I’m chastised when I read God’s command: “Do not be anxious about anything” (Philippians 4:6).  Right after the command, the “how”:

….but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Some Biblical clues on nurturing that “attitude of gratitude”:

“He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor. 15:57)

“For He is good, His love endures forever.” (1 Chronicles 16:34)

“From Him and through Him and for him are all things. To Him be the glory forever!” (Romans 11:36)

I could cite more verses, but maybe the compelling image is the vision John had of what happens in heaven:

“I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” (Revelation 5:13)

With worshipping angels as role models, what more can I say? Except—to be grateful for the earthly role models that God has placed in my life…like a faithful, devoted pastor who, every day, expressed in his own handwriting his gratitude to God.

BACK TO THE BASICS

O

Okay, our refrigerator "bulletin board"
 is messy, with notes and lists
and more--but it works for our busy lives.

Our family calendar, attached to the side of the refrigerator with monster magnetic clips, has been anticipating 2023 since I bought next year’s calendar at a Dollar Store the end of the summer. (Okay, Dollar-and-a-Quarter Store.) At that time, I mark important birthdays, anniversaries and known medical appointments for the next year. Then I take a deep breath, tuck the new calendar under the current one, tidy up other "must-keep" papers and lists, and wonder what 2023 will bring.

For the most part, I’m fairly organized (like thinking ahead with the family calendar), but life doesn’t always send neatly-tied packages. That’s especially true of a folder on my desk I’ve randomly filled with “good stuff” to reconsider “later.”  Then “later” gets later and later. Recently, in cleaning it out, I found decades-old notes that cited principles expressed by the late Dallas Willard, author of The Spirit of the Disciplines (1988). And I thought, Yes!

In this past decade the world has welcomed the pare-down/simplify messages of folks like organizer guru Marie Kondo. In a sense, Willard did that in choosing significant spiritual goals. In my notes, he emphasized these practices;

1.       Identification—Know who you are. Jesus knew His calling as “the Bread of Life” and “The Way, the Truth and the Life.”  As “Bread,” He offered spiritual nurture, as “the Way,” spiritual direction.

2.       Dedication—Know Who you should please. Jesus said He came to give the Father glory (John 17:4). Alas, we’re prone to focus instead on others’ approval and self-glory.

3.       Prioritization—Know what you should accomplish in life. Our culture pressures us into certain “success” categories. And while we should develop and use our God-given abilities, the ultimate priority is to worship and serve God. Jesus did just that in commencing His ministry by claiming the calling of Isaiah 61:1-2: to tend to the practical and spiritual healing of the world.

4.       Concentration—Aim for the “best” instead of mediocre “good enough.” Luke 9:51 says Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.

5.       Meditation—Make a habit of prayer. Remember: Jesus spent nights in prayer. [In recent years, when troubled by insomnia, I’ve learned to “go through the alphabet” in recalling the worship-worthy names and attributes of God.]

6.       Relaxation—Take time to enjoy life. Balance work/ministry and play. Aim for even 10-20-minutes daily, doing something off the to-do list. Withdraw weekly (the “Sabbath”) and annually (“vacation”).

7.       Delegation—Let others help you. Remember, Jesus drew disciples around Himself. Don’t wait for the “perfect” friend or helper. Let God gather burden-bearers and task-helpers to you.

My husband practices #6 (“relaxation”) with televised sports. When I sit down to watch and keep him company, besides noting the score, I endure the “good life” commercials. You know the ones: shiny trucks zipping up rough mountain roads, parties where alcohol flows, or young “hip” adults snapping selfies of each other on their $1,000+ smart phones. He mutes the sounds on those; we both know they aren’t God’s “good life.”

In my very ordinary home and life, I’ll continue trying to organize life’s essentials by culling paper piles and remembering commitments via that $1.25 calendar. But I also know I sometimes need to step back and ask the essentials of Willard’s principles:

*Is my life spiritually balanced?

*Am I purposeful in seeking God through this action?

*Will people, in interacting with me, be able to see past my humanity and get a glimpse of Him? 

IN OTHER WORDS

To borrow a saying, it takes an
international "village" to produce
a body of worship hymns.

You probably know this classic hymn by Joachim Neander that German Christians began singing after its composition in 1680:

“Lobe den Herren, den mächtigen König der Ehren.”

Don’t speak German? Maybe these English words will resonate and also help you recall the tune:

“Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation.”

It's one of my favorite hymns, and now even more meaningful after learning about its journey to my native tongue, English. I thank a never-married Englishwoman, Catherine Winkworth (1827-1878), whose name as “translator” is quietly inserted in the credits of some four hundred hymns, many still included in hymnals.

Born in London to the home of a silk merchant, she was taught at home by her mother. At twenty-one, she traveled to Dresden, Germany, staying with relatives. There, she learned German and became interested in the rich heritage of German hymns, including those by John Wesley and leaders in the Moravian movement.

 As her translations came back to England, they were heralded for being “terse and delicate” in the complex task of bridging two very different languages. Her name would eventually share the credit lines of some 400 hymns. Besides Neander's (above), the better-known hymns would include:

Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates

Wake, Awake, for Night is Flying

If Thou Would Suffer God to Guide Me

Jesus Precious Treasure

She also translated biographies of founders of “sisterhoods” helping the poor and sick. In England, she advocated for women's rights and higher education. Later a resident of Bristol, she used her own funds to buy and upgrade apartment buildings to provide decent, affordable housing for its poor.

 Her lifespan was short—she died in her 50th year in 1878. She never married. But her legacy lives on through the stout, robust German hymns that she “gifted” to the English-speaking world through her bilingual and poetic skills.

 Miss Winkworth’s largely unsung role is a reminder that God uses all sorts of skills to advance the Gospel, and that includes sharing the story of salvation through song. It comes to us through gifted composers, poets, translators, and supporting musicians. “We are God’s fellow workers,” Paul said of Apollos, whom he said “watered the seed” he had planted (1 Corinthians 1:9). Certainly, the gifts of hymn-translation—as Miss Winkworth so diligently practiced--also belong in the category of “fellow workers.”

 

WORM THEOLOGY

 A friend had shared fresh produce from his garden, and I could hardly wait to taste that ear of corn, picked within the day. I didn't expect a side of protein: a corn borer caterpillar nibbling its way down one of the succulent yellow rows. I'd experienced “wildlife” in corn before. I learned to just cut out the “offending” portion. Still, it reminded me that anything is vulnerable to attack. And in everyday life in our fallen world, the “bad stuff” we can't see right away is fully visible to God.

Maybe that's why I find special comfort in the “omni” attributes of God: His omnipresence (He's everywhere), omniscience (all-knowing), and omnipotence (all-powerful). When I feel bewildered or defeated by what is gnawing into my life, none of it is a surprise to God.

I think that's why Psalm 139 is so meaningful to me. Sometimes I'm tempted to feel like just another anonymous person on this planet. But this passage reminds me that I am significant. God created me for a special purpose and I am known to God. He knows what's rattling around my brain--my thoughts are fully known to Him (v. 2). He knows my current and upcoming circumstances. Distance doesn't matter (vv. 7-10). Darkness doesn't hide him (vv. 11-12). He knew me from the time I was a few dividing cells inside my mother's womb (v. 13). He watches sadly if I turn away from Him and do my own thing.

If I make negative "all-about-me choices"—like caterpillar munching down a delectable row of corn kernels—well, He sees that negative path. He also knows how to point the purging knife of the Holy Spirit at the right spot and take out the pestilence. He gladly answers the psalm's concluding prayer:

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (vv. 23-24)

THANKS-SINGING

(A monthly post on a hymn of the faith.)

Something deep inside me is stirred whenever I open a hymnal and sing—in my heart or aloud—the hymns of its “Thanksgiving” section. Some of them five centuries old, they remain timeless in telling the bigger story of being thankful. One bigger than the annual “turkey feast” day we have in our times.

Take this one by an unknown Dutch patriot, which celebrated the freedom of the Netherlands from a century of Spanish domination. It found its way to a collection of Dutch songs in 1626.

We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing;

He chastens and hastens His will to make known;

The wicked oppressing, now cease from distressing,

Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

More wartime—and unimaginable human suffering--birthed another. Europe groaned under a Thirty-Year War (1618-1648), during whose latter years a German lad, Martin Rinkart, was called to be a pastor in Eilenberg, Germany. The walled town turned out to be a city of refuge amid terrible bloodshed and plague. He would spend the last 32 years of his life ministering to the sick and suffering. And he would write the hymn that begins:

Now thank we all our God/With hearts and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done, In whom His world rejoices;

Who, from our mothers' arms, Hath blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, And still is ours today.

Matthias Claudius (1740-1815) had a warm-cold-hot spiritual experience. A Lutheran pastor's son, he studied for the ministry but rationalistic influences extinguished his youthful faith. Then in his late thirties, a serious illness drove him back to devotion to God. About that time he wrote a 17-stanza poem titled “Peasant's Song,” inspired by a harvest festival in Northern Germany. Shortened, it became popular throughout the country. An English translator provided the lyrics that start, “We plow the fields and scatter,/The good seed on the land,/But it is fed and watered/By God's almighty hand.” The song shifts to gratitude with this verse:

We thank thee, then, O Father,/For all things bright and good,

The seedtime and the harvest,/Our life, our health, our food;

No gifts have we to offer,/For all Thy love imparts,

But that which Thou desirest,/Our humble, thankful hearts.

Born about the time Claudius died, Henry Alford (1820-1871) in 1844 offered this Thanksgiving hymn:

Come, ye thankful people, come,/Raise the song of harvest home;

All is safely gathered in,/Ere the winter storms begin;

God, our Maker, doth provide/For our wants to be supplied:

Come to God's own temple, come,/Raise the song of harvest home.

While the first verse celebrates the harvest, the next three refer to the final harvest of God's people. This is the final verse:

Even so, Lord, quickly come/to Thy final harvest home;

Gather Thou thy people in,/Free from sorrow, free from sin;

There, forever purified,/In thy presence to abide:

Come, with all Thine Angels, come,/Raise the glorious harvest home. Amen.

I'm aware that some folks consider classic hymns antiquated and useless. I dare to disagree. They're full of theology and bursting with awe and humility, conveying worthy thanks to the God who sustains us.

A choir and beautiful scenery celebrate Alford's harvest hymn in this You-Tube:

ComeYe Thankful People Come - Henry Alford - HD - Bing video

The one that follows is also worth singing-along-with.

SIMPLE DO'S

        These are two pages from one of my exhaustive 
Bible concordances, but the tiny print and compact
columns are probably a good picture of ALL
those 613 laws facing early Jews.

The law library at the University of Washington was my favorite place to study—away from roommate drama—during the two quarters I attended there (1969-70). No, I wasn't a law student (I was completing some journalism classes), but I knew that my need of a quiet study place could happen amidst the tall shelves of thick law books. So many laws! Thousands of tomes to interpret them!

A few years later I learned of an burdensome spiritual number: 613. That's how many commands good Jews of Bible times were expected to obey. Of that number, 365 were things not to do, and 248 were things to do. Of the “police force” (the Pharisees) pushing all those laws on people, Jesus declared, WOE! All of Matthew 23 jabs at the picky-picky laws they felt duty-bound to impose.

I'm grateful God set the “basics” at ten (commandments), not hundreds. And that Jesus augmented the stark “Thou shalt” and “Thou shalt not” commands of Moses' time with the compassionate do's and don'ts with The Beatitudes (Matthew 5) as well as His other teachings. Also: that scripture includes other parcels of teaching that support and explain the basics of simple, godly living.

One such passage is Psalm 15, by King David. He wasn't perfect, but he loved God. As a warrior-king, not a priest, he couldn't serve in the Jerusalem temple. But he seemed to yearn for a life of devotion such as he observed in the priests who lived and worked on God's “holy hill” (v. 1). The character traits he highlighted are still true for believers today.

*INTEGRITY. David spoke of a seeking a “blameless walk” (v. 2), despising vile lifestyles (v. 4a) and honoring godliness (v. 4b).

*TRUTHFULNESS. His spiritual role models had impeccable speech (“speaks truth from his heart,” v. 2b), and didn't slander or slur another's reputation (v. 5).

*GODLY CONDUCT. For this character trait, David looked at how someone handled money. He commended those who kept their word “even when it hurts” (v. 4), lent money without exorbitant interest (“usury”), and never accepted bribes (particularly, never against “the innocent”--v. 5).

Throughout all three of these character traits I hear echoes of the Ten Commandments and Jesus' teachings about loving and serving one another. And I'm grateful I'm not burdened by more than 600 Levitical do's and don'ts of long ago. The traits David highlighted transcend the centuries. And they can be journey markers until Christ calls us Home—to Heaven, where integrity, truthfulness, and godly conduct are the norm, for everyone there.

MICAH'S NUTSHELL

We know it's fall when the neighborhood squirrels turn our back fence into a narrow highway to rush a neighbor's fallen walnuts to their winter hideouts. Packed into each knobby nut is the nutrition they'll need to survive the winter. I think there's a parallel here with the Old Testament books of prophecy. They have a lot of “woe” and “shame on you” going on in passages that call for a grasp of turbulent ancient history in what we call “The Holy Land.” The problem was, the people weren't preparing (like our industrious squirrels) for a time of deprivation or a better, back-to-God future.

Enter Micah, who lived near Gath, famous for its fallen non-hero, the giant Goliath. Like other prophets, he tried to warn people that God's judgment would come if they didn't turn from sin. In the midst of a negative communication there's a jewel that cries out, “Notice me! Obey me!”

He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. --Micah 6:8

To put it in modern lingo:

*Following God is a good thing and it isn't rocket science.

*Be honest and just.

*Be merciful. Life isn't just about you.

*Humble yourself before God.

As for that last command, I think of Peter's similar teaching:

Therefore, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)

Context always matters, and especially so here. Micah 6:6-7 shows how twisted the people's understanding of how to approach God had become. You catch hints that they were observing the practices of pagan nations around them—folks whose “religion” required elaborate sacrifices of livestock and even human babies:

Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? (v. 7)

Instead the message was simple: uphold justice, be kind, obey God. They represent faith in a “nutshell.” The nutrients that can sustain God-followers when times get tough.

BUCKET LISTS

In our times, a “bucket list” is defined as something that we want to do before a certain deadline—perhaps before we die. That's why we read about 90-year-olds tandem sky-diving or going up in a hot air balloon. Or maybe their list includes mending tattered relationships, so they can pass away with a clear conscience. In Old Testament times, the spiritual buckets required folks to render enough offerings or acts of penance in hopes they'd be forgiven their sins and get right with God. By the time of Martin Luther (early 1500s) the church had lots of money-making rules to take care of bruised consciences. And Luther had a problem with that. He felt weighed down by his sin (even as a monk—a real-life “church guy”) and didn't know if he was good enough for God.

Then one day he read Romans 1:17

Die Gerechten werden aus dem Glauben leben. “The righteous shall live by faith.”

Nothing about having to earn it. It came by faith. A gift. And from then on, he risked his life to teach what Scripture teaches, birthing the Protestant movement. And this wasn't just a New Testament concept, for in writing that, the apostle Paul had reached back into an obscure Old Testament prophet, Habakkuk (2:14), to proclaim the forward-looking truth of the mission of Jesus Christ, that “salvation” is a gift, not something earned.

Habakkuk's name means “embrace” or “ardent embrace”--which has been taken to imply “wrestler” or big-time hugger. He had “wrestled” himself with his nation's plight. The wicked, strong, proud Chaldeans were getting the upper hand and ready to overthrow the southern kingdom of Judah. God answers that yes, they will prevail, but not forever. Judgment will eventually come. Our role is to trust and obey. Yes, amid the failures of Old Testament laws, and the threats of vile enemies--the extravagant hope of a Savior.

For a lot of people, the “minor prophets” like Habakkuk are hard to understand and boring. There's so much warfare and questioning and plain old doubt. But Habakkuk, fifth to the last of the Old Testament prophets, looks toward the dawn of hope that erupts in full glory with the birth of a Savior. As he wrote, things looked very dim. Crops were failing: figs, grapes, olive. Ditto livestock. But he looked up: “The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights!” (v. 3:19).

It's also the vibrant, hopeful New Testament message: Jesus died for my sins. I am forgiven. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

TASTE AND SEE

I'd stirred up some brownies from a box mix and could not resist a childhood pleasure—of licking the spoon and spatula. Yum, yum. Into the oven a pan would go, later to bear “number” candles for my son's latest birthday. That's right, brownies instead of a cake. His little boys eagerly tasted them and declared they were good!

I think of that sensory pleasure when I read Psalm 34:8:

Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

As children, when confronted by a new and strange food, we'd often be told, “Taste it, you'll like it.” That wasn't always true for limited and inexperienced palates! (Definitely NOT true of my first experience with liver!) But we often use the same ruse in introducing people to Christ. “Give Jesus a try—you'll like Him.” The problem is that Jesus isn't like the food samples offered by ladies in smocks and hairnets at the local big-box store. He's not in competition with another “product.” He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life—the only way to truly know God (John 14:6).

“Taste and see” is a warm invitation to know the living God—not a product evaluation. Once in a vital relationship with Jesus, we understand. And it gets better.

As a pre-teen introduced to the church sacraments, “communion” seemed such a mature mystery. At that time, my family attended a liturgical church where we came to the semi-circular altar rail, and the pastor served each of us: “This is the body and blood of Jesus.” I remember gripping the communion rail, trying to bridge the gap between something that tasted and Someone who sacrificed. As I grew and participated in communion services in other denominations, that mystery remained. And even though churches differ in how to explain this holy moment with long, important words, the bottom line seems to be this: we remember. The cross. Gratitude for being loved so much, for Him to endure so great a painful and sacrificial death.

Perhaps “taste and see” is the right way to phrase it. We can't experience Christ by looking in from the outside, no more than I could savor the chocolate left in the mixing bowl by leaving it untouched on the kitchen counter. Christ is not a display. He is a lifestyle, one defined and empowered by an undeserved, prophesied, willingly-entered-into and lovingly completed Death to conquer the Enemy's grip. His gasped words, “It is finished,” rocked across the millennia of history.

We taste...and know...that He is good. “Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8). We know through how choices play out in circumstances and relationships. And we know through that deep, inexplicable sense that Jesus is, indeed, the Presence within that truly satisfies.

In the church I now attend, communion is passed in trays down the rows, not served a few at a time at the altar rail. As I hold the little cup and wafer, I remember, and ask God to again make this a holy moment: “This is MY body, given for you, MY blood, shed for you.” I am to taste and know that He is good.

RESTING

 A monthly series on a great hymn of the faith

J. Hudson Taylor, known for his vision to evangelize all of China, had his share of faith-discouraging hard times. That especially included the trials and losses of the 1899-1900 “Boxer Rebellion,” so named because the Chinese rebels were known for their boxing and martial arts skills. They killed nearly eighty of Taylor's missionaries during that bloody time.

One of the slain missionaries was brother to Jean Pigott, an Irish poet and hymn lyricist. Though she lived to only age 37, her legacy included the lyrics to “Jesus, I am Resting, Resting.” That hymn reportedly brought Taylor great comfort during his greatest trials as a missionary leader. It's said that when the worries and losses of leading the mission nearly overwhelmed him, he'd go to his little reed organ and sing the hymn that expressed his greatest need.

The hymn also expressed in music and lyrics the Biblical truths from John 15, about abiding in Christ—illustrated by vines “abiding in” the branch (Jesus) and finding their strength there. A fellow missionary had written Hudson a note of biblical encouragement, sharing how he'd come to realize the power of “abiding” in his own struggles. The friend wrote: “But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith but by resting on the Faithful One.”

The hymn impacted Taylor so much that he often had his missionaries sing it with him. It didn't take away the bloody political problem. It's estimated that 100,000 died (including 200-250 foreigners, mostly Christian missionaries) during the Boxer Rebellion. But the hymn lifted their eyes from the discouraging political situation to the One who created and called them, and Who promised eternal life.

The words that Miss Pigott used to express “abiding” are worth thinking about. She wrote about resting in the Lord, gazing on Him, being satisfied at the deepest level through contemplating His presence and gifts. The hymn begins:

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art;

I am finding out the greatness of thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee, And thy beauty fills my soul,

For by thy transforming power, Thou hast made me whole.

At least two tunes are associated with this hymn. This video features a menu's chorus singing it with the traditional music.

Jesus I am Resting, Resting - Bing video

The other tune with beautiful scenery can be found here:

Jesus, I am resting - Bing video

JUST LOWLY SPUDS

We'd gotten a bag of potatoes that were rejected by the produce company for size, including this mammoth one that I decided to name “Bud the Spud” before I peeled, cooked, and mashed it for dinner. I gave it some fake “eyes” (though it had a few of its own, au natural) for its portrait....and thought of a game from my 1950s childhood that featured a plastic potato. The aim of the “Mr. Potato Head” game was to decorate it with all sorts of plastic “items,” like mustaches and hairdos. I guess, the uglier the better. But don't laugh: those half-a-century-ago game spuds sell now for $175-225 on resell sites. I find that... incredible.

I guess I shouldn't, as there's something in our culture that thinks “the bigger, the better.” The more luxurious, the lovelier. The flashier, the favored. The more “decorated” (as in military medals or academic degrees), the more desirable.

Paul turned that tendency upside down when he described what should characterize a Christian:

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. (Romans 12:3)

He went on to describe the various ways Christians live out their faith, according to the “giftedness” with which God has endowed them. Some are gifted in declaring God's truth. Others serve, teach, encourage, share resources with those in need, lead, and show mercy (vv. 6b-8).

The walls of my little office/sewing room have some award certificates given me as a writer and speaker. The recognition was affirming, but I have learned that they aren't the whole picture of God's call on my life. Some days I really feel like a lumpy old potato, wondering if God can still use me. Then I remember: He specializes in new recipes as He “grows” a servant. In my cooking life, I can transform a “spud” with recipes for baking/twice-baked, scalloped, mashed, hash-browned, and fried. Similarly, God knows what's best for the rest of my years on earth.

And who knows what God can do through the raw material of a human being? Pastor Charles Stanley of our times has said, “God takes full responsibility for the life wholly devoted to him.” Nineteenth century evangelist D.L. Moody said, “The world has yet to see what God can do with a man fully consecrated to him. By God's help, I aim to be that man.” Missionary martyr Jim Elliot wrote in his journal: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

Our culture tends to elevate and even worship celebrities. That's not God's usual way of doing things. He seems to delight in reaching down into a mesh sack and pulling out the most unlikely candidate to prepare for His work. Like me.

Curious about the world's biggest potato? Here's a whopper that looks like a curled-up gnome:

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/giant-potato-may-have-smashed-the-world-record/ar-AAQmFQk

BOOSTER SEAT

The grand-boys had come for dinner, and as little Jimmy (then 4 ½) stood by “his” chair, he touched the strapped-in “booster chair” and said, “Nana, I don't need this anymore.” Oh, another milestone of growth. First, he was a babe in arms. Then he sat in a high-chair where he slopped his food all over the tray. Finally, he was promoted to the “big people table” in a booster seat next to his brothers, with his own plastic dishes and place mat.

Hearing his request, I unstrapped and removed the booster, and he sat down, way down, so that his chin was almost even with the tabletop. Knowing he wouldn't want to resume the “booster seat” era, I found a thin foam pillow for him to sit on to give him a little height. That suited him just fine. Growing up with stair-step older brothers, he's tried hard to keep up with them. And even a little matter of outgrowing the booster seat was important to him.

Someday, even, he will grow out of the “foam pillow” boost, and his chin will steadily rise from table-level. Someday, that chin will have whiskers! I'm not sure I'll still be around for that, but for now, I'm glad I can encourage his desire to “not be a baby anymore.”

Later on, that incident got me thinking about “baby Christians” and the need to grow past the basics of accepting Jesus' death for our sins, and growing in the faith. One of my spiritual mentors years ago (a godly senior – the age I am now!) challenged me with her faith-walk and consistent scripture memory program. For some reason, this verse she recited to me—with a tear in the corner of her eye-- stands out from all the others:

But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. Amen. 2 Peter 3:18 (KJV)

Even at her age, this godly woman didn't consider herself Christian "enough” to coast with her current faith-walk. She was always growing, always praying, always reading and memorizing scripture. And it showed—in her eternal confidence and compassion for her family and the bigger needs of the world. She was into the “real meat” of scripture and into the “real heart” of prayer. I loved her and learned from her.

I think her distinctive spiritual character was that she loved her Jesus and she loved the scriptures. Her Bible was so well-used that it seemed molded to her lap. Such intimacy with God's Word doesn't come from haphazard reading or a quickie in a devotional. As I observe today's media culture (computer/smart phone addiction to gaming, social sites, other entertainment) capture the hearts of this next generation, I wonder: where will be the spiritual giants? Will they succeed in saying “no” to excesses of entertaining videos or social media to cultivate the most important relationship of all—that with the Lord Jesus? Will they grow out of the “baby habits” of a snitch of scripture here or there (if any) and really “chew” on mature spiritual food? Will their lives show it?

Such questions I ask myself: have I moved on from baby food to real spiritual meat? Is it making a difference in my life? Does scripture “give me a boost” to love my Savior even more?

NOTE-WORTHY

A "trinity" of music notes--a gift
I keep on my piano

Often when I come to my “quiet time” place, an old hymn starts running through my mind: “Jesus, what a friend of sinners, Jesus lover of my soul.” Faith in a loving, omnipotent God—who loves me despite my flaws—helps me personalize those lyrics woven long ago into my faith-walk. I'd noticed in hymnals that the tune carried the name “Hyfrydol,” whatever that meant. Little did I realize what a big impact that gentle tune, now more than a hundred years old, has made on Christian music.

The name (from Welsh) means “lovely, cheerful or melodious,” and the tune came from the heart of Rowland Hugh Prichard (1811-1887), when the Welsh textile worker and amateur musician was only about twenty years old. Who would have thought that a “tender's assistant” in a Welsh flannel manufacturing factory would have such a second faith-influenced avocation? But the reason may trace to the 1859 Welsh revival, when some 110,000 conversions changed the nation's spiritual culture. He also published a children's song book called “Singer's Friend.”

But a tune needs words to become a song or hymn. Those matched to “Hyfrydol” have included these:

1866: Scottish businessman William Chatterton Dix (he sold marine insurance) was also a prolific hymn-verse writer, attaching the tune to “Alleluia, Sing to Jesus.”

1875: The “Hyfrydol” tune was applied to Methodist Charles Wesley's classic 1744 Advent poem “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” It was also later matched to his 1747 “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.”

1876: Philip Bliss, prolific Gospel musician associated with evangelist D.L. Moody, used the tune for his “I Will Sing of My Redeemer.”

1886: Baptist minister Francis Rowley penned “I Will Sing the Wondrous Story,” which has two music matches in hymnals, one tune by Peter Billhorn and the other Hyfrydol.

1910: John Wilbur Chapman, a Presbyterian evangelist who traveled with a gospel singer and also preached with the legendary Dwight Moody, penned “Our Great Savior” (also known as “Jesus, What a Friend of Sinners”).

“Hyfrydol” is certainly not the only versatile hymn tune out there. But learning who has adopted it to meaningful lyrics has only deepened my appreciation for how God uses musicians and lyricists—in tandem or perhaps separated by years—to bring glory to Himself. Those partnerships transcended their times, and even come to my corner of the universe when I sit down to focus on our amazing Creator-God and Savior.

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Enjoy a men's choir in Wales sing a “Hyfrydol” hymn in the Welsh language:

PendyrusChoir - Hyfrydol - YouTube

PRECIOUS....

Part of a monthly series on a hymn of the faith.

Precious Lord, take my hand. If just those five words set your heart to humming a tune, and recalling the rest of the words, then you've looked briefly into the broken heart of a well-known blues musician. His name was Thomas A. Dorsey (not to be confused with the big-band leader Tommy Dorsey).

He was born in the small Georgia town of Villa Rica, about 20 miles west of Atlanta, Georgia, in 1899. His father was a Black revivalist preacher and his mother a church organist. There he heard the melodies handed down from slaves with their “moaning” styles with elongated notes and embellishments. When the family moved to Atlanta, Thomas became enamored with the “blues” music style. Before long, he was playing in night clubs, including some “speakeasies” connected to the mob bosses. Before long, he moved to Chicago where he rose in the blues performance culture.

When his mother saw him swallowed up by secular music, she repeatedly urged him to turn back and serve the Lord. Yet he ignored her counsel, and often worked around the clock to meet the demands for his type of music. He suffered what is believed to be a mental breakdown; his mother nursed him back to health, but he went right back to paid jazz and blues jobs. Again, his health broke. His sister took him to a church where he experienced a supernatural healing.

This time, he tried to incorporate his new style of music—with blues and jazz syncopation—into church worship services. But it didn't match the more conservative hymns that African-American churches were singing at that time.

He had married and he and his wife were expecting their first baby. She was near her delivery date when he needed to travel to lead a choir event in Indianapolis. While on the platform, he was handed a telegram telling him his wife and baby had died. Coming home, inconsolable in his loss, he eventually went to a piano. In what he described as a mystical inspiration, he began to play a melody and found words to go with it. Later, Dorsey would claim that his song, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” came from God Himself. It would be performed by Mahalia Jackson, and was a favorite of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Another of his 3,000 songs (a third of them Gospel) to become well-known was “Peace in the Valley.”

Dorsey eventually took a job at Chicago's Pilgrim Baptist Church where he organized one of the first Gospel choirs. He would serve there from 1932 until the late 1970s, introducing Black Gospel audience participation like clapping, stomping and shouting. He also started a Gospel publishing house for African American composers. Then came a national organization for Gospel choirs and choruses that adapted the “Gospel blues” style.

He later remarried and had a son and daughter, but continued a hectic music performance schedule in the U.S. and overseas. By the 1970s he began to slow down and showed symptoms of Alzheimer's disease. He would die in Chicago at age 93 in 1993, reportedly while listening to music on a “Walkman.”

For listening, one of many YouTube videos of this poignant song:

Joey+Rory - Take My Hand, Precious Lord (Live) - YouTube

PURE

This white rose bush is my favorite among the dozen-plus roses growing by our driveway. It's named “Mount Hood” for Oregon's snow-capped inactive volcano. But when my husband chose that variety for our rose garden, he remembered a dark night on Mount Hood several years earlier, when an impaired driver crossed the center line and crashed into us. Our car was destroyed, we had injuries...but we lived.

After that traumatic event, I struggled with bad feelings toward the man who hit us and tried to elude responsibility with lies and denials. Yet I knew God's way was not to nurture enmity against this man. Jesus taught, “Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God” (Matt. 5:8). Even in far-lesser offenses, it's so easy to let bitterness and pride taint the heart. I love this old ditty by an unknown author: To dwell above with the saints we love, Oh, that will be glory!/But to dwell below with the saints we know, well, that's another story!

On our own, without other people to bug us and badger us, we might do quite well. But “purity of heart” isn't a matter of isolation or always having our own way. In Psalm 73, Asaph (one of King David's temple musicians) struggled with trusting God when he saw nonbelievers enjoying prosperity, fame, and good health. Such people even declared faith in God as unnecessary for them: “How can God know? Does the Most High have knowledge?' (73:11).

WHY TRY?

This bothered Asaph, who complained, “In vain have I kept my heart pure, in vain have I washed my hands in innocence” (v. 13). If purity didn't really matter, why try? His attitude adjustment about the rewards of faith came as he returned to worship. He admitted he was looking at other people and not at a holy God.

When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered,

I was senseless and arrogant; I was a brute beast before you.

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me to glory. (vv.21-24)

I've long appreciated Asaph's psalm. He pulls no punches: life doesn't always favor the godly with bouquets of roses, riches, popularity, health, yada yada. But God never changes. In a song that Asaph's king, David, wrote: “To the faithful you show yourself faithful, to the blameless you show yourself blameless” (2 Samuel 22:26).

My “Mount Hood” roses bloom for a season, then go to a winter's death. How different for humans who trust God: Asaph put it this way in beautiful words I memorized and often recall:

Whom have I in heaven but you? And being with you, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:25-26).

So yes, blessed are the pure in heart. And even if, in all honesty, we struggle to feel our hearts are pure enough, God has the “pruning” solution: “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).

Oh my, did my rose care lead to a sermon? I confess so. But I'm grateful that even in the ordinary tasks of life, God has a message for me. Maybe for you, too.

PRIMROSE PROVERBS

After a much-too-snowy winter (like the night of a record two-foot snowfall!), my husband was eager to welcome spring by planting some primroses by our front walk. Their name comes from the Latin prim for “first” (as in first of spring), and their compact growing pattern and bright colors always cheer. Sometimes they make me think of the phrase “Primrose Path,” which I long associated with some ultra-lovely garden. Maybe that's because our English word “prim” (for a very proper and demure person) comes from that word in French. Still, I'd envision lovely gardens with all the rainbow's colors, artfully planted, and probably primroses lining a flagstone walkway. Perhaps there's such a garden somewhere, but not in our hot climate. Primroses grow best in damp, wooded-like conditions. If that sends your imagination to fairies, you probably recall this 1916 children's song:

White coral bells upon a slender stock. Lilies of the valley deck my garden walk. Oh, don't you wish that you could hear them ring, That will happen only when the fairies sing.

Sorry, but primroses didn't make it into these song lyrics, as least from what I researched. Instead, they have a darker reputation tracing back to Shakespeare's plays. In Hamlet, Ophelia's brother Laertes is lecturing her how to behave while he's away at a university in Paris. She turns his advice around, warning him to behave himself since fellow students have quite a negative moral reputation. Her warning (in that quaint Old English):

Show me the steep and stormy way to heaven whiles like a puffed and reckless libertine himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and recks not his own rede. (Hamlet, 1.3).

Shakespeare's audiences understood Ophelia's worry that such behavioral paths led to bad outcomes. Because this was the era of the King James Bible, no doubt audiences also knew the Bible's warning about the moral gate that led to destruction (Matthew 7:13). Over centuries, that allusion led to to the contemporary meaning of “Primrose Path” as “a life of pleasure and leisure that results in a negative or detrimental outcome.” (1) In other words, it's the easy way out but it has its hidden costs.

I pick up the same theme throughout the book of Proverbs. Maybe King Solomon was writing out of his disastrous experiences with the world's biggest pagan harem when he penned advice that warned against following paths that led away from God. The most vivid example is in chapter 7, where a guy is dawdling along a street when a brazen immoral woman lures him into her home. Verse 22 is chilling: “All at once he followed her...little knowing it will cost him his life.”

I once heard it said that when someone is faced with temptation, he or she should imagine Jesus watching from a nearby corner. Would He be pleased or grieved by your choice? Writing to believers in the immoral city of Corinth, Paul had similar advice:

If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall. (1 Corinthians 10:12)

He added that temptations are out there. They're a common thing in our human existence. But in keeping God in such situations, “when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it” (1 Corinthians 10:13). To borrow a modern phrase, He will help us just say NO!

In contrast to the “Primrose Path” (in its historical meaning of pleasure leading to harm) is “the path of the righteous [which] is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day” (Proverbs 4:18).

I have to be honest: all this historical background saddened me! I enjoy our garden primroses. But checking out a garden-variety allusion reminded me of the higher calling to submit to the Lord's spiritual landscaping plan for my life.

(1) a life of pleasure and leisure that results in a negative or detrimental outcome. - Search (bing.com)

THE BACKWARDS VIEW

When our year-old car was destroyed in an accident, I had one “must” for our replacement: a back-up camera. Maybe it's an older, careful-driver thing, but I felt it would help with parallel parking or backing out of a shopping mall parking space.

That gadget, however, wouldn't have prevented the accident caused by an inexperienced driver. We'd just visited a friend in the hospital and were driving home in a car we'd bought just a year earlier. About a mile into our journey, headed up a narrow hillside road, we noticed a vehicle careen at high speed around a bend and weave erratically, headed for us. In those panicked seconds, my husband pulled to the narrow shoulder as far as possible. There was no guardrail to stop an over-the-ledge push if the other driver slammed into us. Instead, he struck us with a glancing blow that destroyed the side of our car. Miraculously (God-protected-ly), we didn't tumble down the embankment to serious injury or perhaps death.

Nobody was hurt seriously, though “shaken.” Police came quickly, the wrecked cars were towed, and we called a friend to take us home. Then we faced the insurance labyrinth and finding another car. That should have tied up the loose ends of that scary experience, right? Maybe, except that we exert influence we may not be aware of. Months later, my husband was shopping one day when a woman came up to him. Her son was the one who hit us. She thanked my husband for his caring attitude toward her son, in running to his wrecked car to make sure he was okay.

I thought of that scenario when I came across this head-scratch-er (for me) quote by Marshall McLuhan, a Canadian philosopher on media theory: “We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future.” One interpretation: how we act in emergencies and trauma spreads a long shadow forward.

About fifteen years earlier, we survived another “totaled” wreck nearly 200 miles from home when another driver (impaired by alcohol) also took a corner too fast and lost control. That time, our family suffered injuries. But I took my experience to the public, speaking for nearly a decade at monthly “alcohol education” meetings required of people convicted with “driving under the influence.” Eventually, I needed to end looking in the historical “rear-view” mirror. But from the number who came up to express appreciation for honest sharing, I know it was the right thing to do.

I think that's true of any experience we endure and reflect on with angst or sorrow. Eventually, with God's help, we need to move on. Contemporary author Ann Voskamp put this spin on it: “God reveals Himself in rear-view mirrors. And I've an inkling that there are times when we need to drive a long, long distance before we can look back and see God's back in the rear view mirror. Maybe sometimes about as far as heaven—that kind of distance.”

The apostle Paul, of course, didn't have any experience with auto wrecks. But he did endure imprisonment, beatings, stonings, shipwrecks, malicious talk and other things that would make an ordinary person ask, “Where is God in all this?” Instead of dwelling on hurting things that were “behind,” he urged this attitude:

Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:13b-14)

(1)Quote by Marshall McLuhan: “We look at the present through a rear view mirr...” (goodreads.com)

(2)Quote by Ann Voskamp: “God reveals Himself in rearview mirrors. And I'...” (goodreads.com)