THORNY PEOPLE

Ouch!--from my spring rose-pruning

Thorny people—you know who they are! They find it easy to pout (poor me!) and spout (terrible them!). I thought of those two negative words in reading Anne Graham Lotz's Wounded by God's People (Zondervan, 2013). Lotz, author-speaker and daughter of the late evangelist Dr. Billy Graham, pulled fresh-to-me lessons from the complicated Old Testament story of Sarah and her maid, Hagar. Lotz' application is not limited to believers wounding other believers, but the whole picture of choosing revenge and anger over trust and kindness.

First, a recap of Hagar's story from Genesis 18 and 20-21. Hagar was barren Sarah's handmaiden. When Sarah gave up the idea of getting pregnant in her old-old-age (despite an angelic visitation telling her it would happen--sometime), she told Hagar to “sleep” on her behalf with her century-old husband Abraham. He got her pregnant and Hagar gave birth to a baby boy, Ishmael, whose name means “God will hear.” This wasn't the way God intended for Abraham's lineage to be carried on. Then, at an age 91 miracle, Sarah got pregnant and gave birth to Isaac. His name means “laughter,” and why not? It was a joyous, crazy occasion. (Probably in those middle-of-the-night feedings she had to remind herself of his name!)

Fast forward a bit. In the meantime, Isaac's half-brother Ishmael (via Hagar) was starting to grow whiskers and pimples. Not wanting this kid around, reminding her of her failure to believe God earlier, Sarah decided to terminate Hagar's “employment.” The maid and her son were sent off to the wilderness.

Just imagine Hagar's thoughts as she and the famished, thirsty boy sought shade from the blasting sun out in the middle of nowhere. Death was imminent--until God (via an angelic helper) intervened, provided some miracle water, and sent them on.

On one level, this is a story of family anger and heartless abandonment. But it's also a reminder that God, in His wisdom and eternal plan, can work through times when others wound us. Lotz pointed out that our typical response in “wounding” is to focus on the faults of others: “It's not me. It's them! And even if it were me, what I did to them wasn't as hurtful as what they did to me. So, it's still them!” (p. 92).

But Lotz suggested another way of processing life's wounds—of asking questions like these:

• “Do you want your life characterized by the result of remaining focused on 'them' while being blind to your own pride, arrogance, anger, resentment, name-calling, vengeful digs, schemes for revenge, or vicious gossip disguised as prayer requests?”

• “What are you living for? Instead of living your life to the glory of God, are you driven by a desire to get even, vindicate your actions, prove someone else wrong, justify your opinion, expose the other person, get your own way?”

• “Consider carefully...do any of these desires truly honor God?” (p. 93)

To put it in a nutshell, whether we're wounded (or wound-ers), we face two choices: pout and spout....or trust and obey. I know, as that 1887 hymn by John Sammis says, the better choice is: “Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus....but to trust and obey.”

Not always easy, but it's God's way of moving on from conflict that dishonors Him.

HUMBLE

It was a year when I was speaking at numerous women's retreats, and this one would be memorable. Not because my driving instructions were so vague that I started down a lonely road that only got worse—and with no place to turn around, I had to gingerly back up for hundreds of feet. Finally I got to the real retreat site (which was a right turn at a certain tree, and I had gone left), where dinner was being served. Coming into the busy, buzzing dining hall, I noticed one empty seat, and decided to sit there.

I introduced myself to the woman on my right, sitting quietly amidst the retreaters' chatter. She said her name was Dagmar, and her name and accent led to our next conversation thread about her roots in Germany. My paternal great grandparents had come from Germany. I guessed her to be mid to late sixties, Now a single woman, she was working as a maid for one of the large motels in a nearby Bavaria-themed tourist town. She had two adult children, a son in Washington and a daughter in California.

When the retreat ended, she said she wanted to keep in touch and pray for me. She also gave me a fabric heart she had made during the retreat's craft time. She asked that it remind me to please pray for her adult children. So we exchanged addresses. Once or twice a year she'd write or call me, reminding me of her prayers and asking what else to pray for. She later moved from our area, but sought me out when she passed through our town en route to see her son, who lived in a rural area about an hour's drive north. Later, no longer driving, she asked if I'd meet her at the town's bus station for a little visit when she had a layover between bus schedules. Her letters grew less frequent, then finally stopped. My last letter to her, about a year ago, was returned by the woman who had moved into her apartment. She had no idea where Dagmar moved to.

The end of April I saw Dagmar's name in the local newspaper's death notices. There would no service. Nothing said about burial. She was 88 (she would have been 89 on July 21). Though  perhaps not celebrated at death like most, she was surely known and cherished by the Lord whom she served through prayers and witness in her everyday life.

I was reminded of famous words woven into a web by the fictional Charlotte the spider in a 1952 children's book by E.B. White. Charlotte used every bit of her spider ability to reach out to a humble pig named Wilbur, She wove in her web above his pen these uplifting adjectives: “some pig,” “terrific,” “radiant,” and “humble.” The mystery words stunned his community, and saved him from becoming bacon.

“Some pig” didn't fit Dagmar, although the other words, plus “some special lady” would. Something else she said one time pierced my heart. She remarked that she was surprised when we first met how I sat by her and started a conversation. Her experience in other retreats was that “the speaker” hung out with the organizers. They didn't sit with “ordinary folks” like her. Ouch.

So, Dagmar, I celebrate you. The Lord smiled on your humble, praying life. See you at the table—God's table—in Glory.

=========

In thinking about godly women, I remembered a blog I wrote some years ago. You might enjoy reviewing its comparisons:

Jeanne Zornes: A Tale of Three Women

I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR

 A monthly story on a hymn of the faith.

Think back a century-plus in history to times when nobody was absorbed with texting, tweeting, twitter and all the rest. Homemaking was labor intensive. No “push button” dishwashing, laundry or even a circular rug-hugging robot to vacuum while you sleep. Yet people took time to read their Bibles and write down their thoughts. Often that took the form of a poem.

With that background, put yourself in the middle of the 1800s, watching a New York girl named Annie Sherwood write poetry. At 14, she was regularly published in a variety of newspapers. She would eventually compose more than 400 hymn texts. But life got busy at 24 when she was married Mr. Hawks and had three children. Mothering and homemaking absorbed her life. Yet she continued to compose poetry.

One bright morning when she was 37, busy with regular household tasks, she became deeply aware of God's presence. She later wrote that she was “wondering how one could live without Him, either in joy or pain.” Poetic words came rapidly; she titled it “I Need Thee Every Hour.” She later showed the poem to her pastor, Robert Lowry, a brilliant scholar, pastor and musician, then leading the Hanson Place Baptist Church in Brooklyn, N.Y. He wrote a melody for it and added the refrain.

That same year (1872) it came to the attention of Ira Sankey, the revival musician for evangelist Dwight Moody. He used it for the National Baptist Sunday School Association convention, and from there it went into a hymn compilation.

From then on, Dr. Lowry's name was added to the hymn's credits as “composer.” But it would be just one of many of his that became popular during his times. His personal favorite was “Weeping Will Not Save Me” (1868). But his hymns that endured into the next century included “Low in the Grave He Lay” (1874) and “Shall We Gather at the River” (1876). (Dr. Lowry's fuller story, including the background about his heaven-focused "Gather at the River" hymn, will be told in a future blog.)

For his parishioner, Mrs. Hawks, questions about heaven loomed as she became a widow. Her grief took her back to the words she wrote as a young mother, “I need thee every hour.” She later reflected, “I did not understand at first why this hymn had touched the great throbbing heart of humanity. It was not until long after, when the shadow fell over my way, the shadow of a great loss, that I understood something of the comforting power of the words which I had been permitted to give out to others in my hour of sweet serenity and peace.”

Be uplifted by this a cappella YouTube with beautiful scenery:

I Need Thee Every Hour - Bing video

WISH LIST

I have a milestone birthday (of sorts) coming up—which means my loved ones will be scratching their heads over appropriate gifts. They can skip the joke cane. Besides the flimsy joke cane at left (a gift to my husband gift at a previous "milestone" birthday) I have a real and sturdy one. It's my buddy for stability, typically in the morning, when my weak ankle reminds me of a major crunch-fall followed by surgery and casts two decades ago. Prunes? Well, I eat them anyway, from time to time. They're high in iron! Tweezers for chin whiskers? Already supplied. Wrinkle cream? I'm beyond hope, although have some generic skin lotions for “all over.” Brain pills? Not in my pill caddy. I figure the jury is still out, probably on some beach looking for smart jellyfish to harvest and pack into capsules. Interestingly, they're often touted in ads during brain-exercise TV programs, like “Wheel of Fortune” and “Jeopardy.”

So what's on my “list” as I enter into “older” years I never thought about in my younger self? I vote for “PETER'S POSITIVE POTION.” That “product” has this description: “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness” (2 Peter 1:3). The things that really matter aren't on a store shelf.

I've rubbed elbows in recent years with people who never feel they have enough. I got so tired of hearing them say, “Well, so-and-so has this or that [usually a relational or material blessing] and I DON'T and so I am so miserable because God isn't giving me what I think I need for my happiness!”

Paul had a different outlook: “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation” (Philippians 4:12). That included poverty OR material “enough.” A full stomach OR a rumbling hungry one.

A friend with a steady spiritual walk introduced me to the works of Nancy Leigh DeMoss Wolgemuth, whose writing and speaking focuses on the holy, God-focused life. In Lies Women Believe (Moody, 2021) she zeroes in on common but ungodly attitudes, like excusing bad behavior, claiming “rights,” and focusing on beauty over character. She also countered the common complaint that “I should not have to live with unfulfilled longings.” Her biblical perspective (p. 87):

“I will always have unfulfilled longings this side of heaven.”

“The deepest longings of my heart cannot be filled by any created person or thing.”

“If I will accept them, unfulfilled longings will increase my longing for God and for heaven.”

Maybe that's my best answer for “what do I want for my birthday.” What means the most to me can't be bought in a store. Well, maybe a simple card (funny or serious, Dollar $tore or homemade), extra “positive sparks” if the sender adds affirming words (which is one of my “love languages”). But a gift wish list? Not me. Despite its numerical significance, this birthday is but a service station pause (hopefully with clean restrooms) on the road to heaven. As Paul wrote: “I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).

LOVED AND UGLY

You've heard of the Big One for dog connoisseurs: June's legendary Westminster Dog Show (New York/established 1877), where preened, purebred pooches of all sizes are paraded with much flair. But there's also a rival competition about the same time across the nation in Petaluma (Pet-aluma—get it?), California. Started in the 1970s, this one—for considerably less-than-stellar mutts--is called the “World's Ugliest Dog.”

This year's winner was “Mr. Happy Face,” an aging Chihuahua mix rescued from an abusive situation with a hoarder. Estimated to be about 17 years old, he was given little chance of finding a new forever home. He had tumors and neurological issues, needed a diaper, could barely stand upright, and held his head (with its Mohawk-like topper) askew. But when he's happy, he reportedly sounded “like a Dodge Ram diesel truck” revving its engine.

That this dog was even adopted was a miracle. One vet, considering his age, past abuse, and disabilities, predicted he'd live only a month or few weeks. The woman who adopted him—despite all his disabilities—determined that he'd get so much love that he'd forget his old life. That was ten months before the “ugly dog” show—and now he earned his owner a $1,200 prize and an appearance on the “Today” show in New York. (Yep, not too far from the “elegant” dog competition site.)

And I thought—how much like God's lavish love described in Romans 5. Our “before Christ” might also be described as full of neglect and abuse. That's how Satan likes to fling about folks who don't know the security of faith in Christ. But God walked into the room, saw the yearning in our eyes despite the ugly trappings of sin, and paid for our release with a check on the “Bank of Calvary,” signed in His Son's blood:

But God demonstrates his love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8).

In no way do I intend to trivialize the extravagant gift of salvation through Jesus Christ by linking it to an “ugly dog” show. But I think even this secular event portrays a deeper truth: that no matter our past, no matter how much we've been knocked around, wounded, rejected, given up on—God never lets us out of His sight. To Him, we're not ugly. What the prophet Isaiah wrote of God's love for Israel is just as true for each of God's human created beings:

You are precious and honored in my sight....because I love you.. (Isaiah 43:4)