MAY!

These cheerful tinted daisies, a get-well gift from a friend, brightened our lives this winter. Tired of winter's white and gray, the blooms helped us anticipate the glorious colors of spring that seem to explode in May.

“May”-be you never thought about it, but the word “may” has more than one meaning. Besides a month name (supposedly related to Maia, the Roman goddess of spring and growth), in the English language it's a “helper verb.” More specifically, it's a “modal verb.” That sounds very important, but basically it implies a level of certainty or permission to the verb. Like: “You may go to bed”=permission to go. In contrast, “You can go to bed”=ability to go.

Enough English grammar. But this winter I found myself mentally “chewing”on a set of verses full of the helper verb “may.” The apostle Paul had written the church at Thessalonica, which had endured some bitter persecution. He reminded them of God's amazing love now and the wonderful future waiting in Heaven (boldface added):

Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus clear the way for us to come to you. May the Lord make your love increase and overflow for each other and for everyone else, just as ours does for you. May he strengthen your hearts so that you will be blameless and holy in the presence of our God and Father when our Lord Jesus comes with all his holy ones.(1 Thessalonians 3:12-13)

And in the conclusion:

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. (5:23)

You can't miss the key words: love, be strong, be blameless and holy. And Who is the source of those life-changing attitudes? The One whose name follows the “may”: God the Father and "God of Peace". Paul's letter expressed the positive possibilities connected to faith in Christ, despite one's negative circumstances.

Maybe I “think” too much, but it does seem so right that May's re-birthing of the earth after winter (particularly for those of us in colder climates) shares the idea of hope and renewal with the “helper” (or modal) verb “may.” In our spiritual walk, Jesus is the One who can turn a “may” outcome into reality. It's a verb of blessing.

Several years ago I was elected to my local church's official board. We got to know each other and the pastor's vision for ministry through a weekend retreat. At its end, each of us sat in a chair while others gathered around to pray for us. With the laying-on of hands and earnest prayers, humility and gratitude washed over me.

I think a similar spirit was reflected through Paul's “may” statements of blessing in this passage. When, in Christian community, we focus on the “may's” of walking with Christ, we will draw closer to Jesus. We will be strengthened to make godly choices. We will have greater anticipation for the return of Jesus Christ.

May this be your reader take-away!

"MOW' THAN MEETS THE EYE

To mow your lawn, would you choose the toy lawn mower that rattles an impressive fake “vroom”? Or the antique push mower that's so rusted that it's only good now for yard art? Last summer, our front lawn got shaggy as my husband (the official mow-er) recovered from a serious illness that put him in the hospital. Recovering myself from Covid, I wasn't much yard work help. When our son and family came over to help, the middle grandson, 7 1/2, grabbed a toy lawn mower that doesn't cut anything but makes impressive “vrooom” sounds. The oldest grandson, barely 9, eyed a better choice—our gas-powered lawn mower (NOT the old rusty one in the photo). His dad pulled the cord to start it and gave him some safety advice. Then, his dad walking alongside him as he strained to push, the boy realized he wasn't ready for that adult task. Reluctantly, he let his dad take over.

Afterward, I thought of my own lawn-mowing challenge as a young woman. This came after my parents died half a year apart. They were survived by me (still single at 31) and my older, married sister, who was busy with a young family and bookstore business. To “settle their affairs,” the only reasonable choice was for me to drop out of my graduate program, and move into their home. I'd need to dispose of their life's accumulations through estate sales, spiff up the interior with paint, keep up yard work, and try to sell the house. Our parents' home sat on a huge corner lot, with lots to mow and weed. The task exhausted me every week. But—with God's help—I did it for months.

What kept me going in this overwhelming physical and emotional task? Clinging to the Lord in prayer. Caring friends who helped. And scriptures. A Bible verse memorized years earlier came back to me as a reminder that I wasn't alone, and that God would help me through every difficult task I faced in that “estate clean-out” year.

That verse, Isaiah 41:10, had been the weekly “memory verse” for grade-school-age girls for whom I was a Sunday school teacher a few years earlier. In preparing that week's lesson, I suspected they'd stumble over so many words. I also wanted them to understand its application to God's great compassion in our difficult times. I decided to figure out a sort of “sign language” (not the real type) to take us through the verse.

Fear thou not—head turning back and forth for “no.”

For I am with thee—hand to heart.

Be not dismayed—face looking worried, head turning for “no.”

For I am thy God—hand raised to ceiling (as to heaven).

I will strengthen thee—right arm flexed to “show” muscle.

Yea, I will help thee—arm down, open hand reaching out.

Yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness—right hand raised upward.

I lost touch with my “girls” after moving away, though learned that one did become a minister's wife. But I'm glad I could lead that little group, and especially for the impact of that one verse on my life. During that difficult year after my parents' death, it was among scriptures that lifted me up. Without such scriptural encouragement to bolster me, my life would have been as difficult as trying to cut a lawn with a useless toy mower. Or straining to push a real mower that was much too heavy for me to handle alone.

Even today, some four decades later, I when I encounter that passage in Bible study, I remember that lesson time reinforced with uplifted hands. It remains a poignant and truthful reminder that, in any difficult situation, God waits to see me lift my problems and concerns to Him.

LIGHT-BEARER

My valley's skyscape one day seemed  appropriate for a March 19 Facebook entry I'd just read by a longtime writer-speaker friend. She  quoted  Eighteenth century English poet and hymnwriter William Cowper: “Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds you so much dread, Are big with mercy, and shall break in blessings on Thy head.” Soon after, on March 25, my friend, Lucinda ("Cindy") Secrest McDowell broke through those "much-dreaded" spiritual clouds to eternal life.

Not long before, as I read Cindy’s month-earlier (Feb. 21) Lenten blog, I had no clue how deeply its truths would test her. Referring to the “Ash Wednesday” tradition, she wrote:

“Sometime today, you might find yourself hearing these words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3.19), as an officiant traces ashes on your brow, made from burning last year’s palm branches. On Ash Wednesday, the church begins the 40-day season of Lent by reminding us of our mortality. While that may sound morbid, this holy practice can actually become a catalyst to pursue a deeper, more significant life…As Ash Wednesday launches the beginning of our journey towards Easter, I’m focusing on remembering the past, reflecting on the present, and relinquishing my future to a sovereign God.-- (From Feb. 21, 2023 blog at https://lucindasecrestmcdowell.com)

A month later, just weeks before her 70^th birthday, Lucinda (“Cindy”) Secrest McDowell died of just-discovered invasive cancer. Shocked in hearing that, I thought back to the 2023 life “focus word” she had chosen: the Hebrew word hineni (pronounced hee-nay-nee), meaning “Here I am.”  Used of responding fully to a divine call, its most memorable use is in Genesis 22. There, Abraham had traveled to a certain mountain to obey God’s command to sacrifice the miracle child of his old age, Isaac. But just before Abraham prepares to kill his bound son on an altar, God calls again. Abraham responds, “Hineni”—“Here I am.” At that crucial moment, God tells him to spare the son. He has passed the test of obedience.

A gifted, prolific writer, she and her retired-pastor-husband had  entered their golden years...but her writing and speaking continued. "Hineni"--"here I am."

What a resume she had! Growing up in south Georgia, she raced through high school and college, throwing in (like Catherine Marshall’s fictional “Christy”) a stint of ministry among impoverished Appalachians. She finished a master's at Gordon Seminary in Massachusetts while living (as a hired housemate-helper) with famed author Elisabeth Elliot. Editing and writing jobs, (including one with a world-wide evangelism conference), then a few classes at Wheaton Graduate School (where I met her) came next. From there, she served as a missions pastor for a California mega-church. And that’s where she encountered a widower serving a parachurch ministry in Seattle. His wife had died, leaving him with three young children.

Some of her books from my bookshelf

Fast-forward through a long-distance courtship and marriage, and they’d follow pastoral callings on the other side of the nation, have a child together, and finally settle in a historic New England church. Busy as a pastor’s wife and mom to four, she’d find the time to write 13 books, contribute to 30 others, do other writing, and speak at conferences.

An avid reader—fiction, devotionals, Bible study, classics—she recycled the lessons of great spiritual leaders into her own writing. She mentored other writers through support groups and conferences. Whew. A full life. But one ended just before age 70, mere weeks after cancer was diagnosed.

Several decades ago, on the East coast for a business trip, I took a bus to her home in Connecticut. Though she was ill with a bad cold, she was a gracious hostess. I visited her historic church “gathered” in the 1600s and where George Washington once visited and worshiped. Behind the church spread a huge historic cemetery—rows upon rows of gravestones. (See some old graves behind us.) A few, she admitted with a smile, marked the final resting place of other “Lucindas” from centuries earlier.

Her given name, Lucinda, means “light.” I was privileged to be a tiny part of her light-bearing life. I treasure her books. I will read them again this year, grateful for knowing a woman who lived out her name, “light,” by responding, “Hineni….here I am.”

Be blessed by checking out these links:

My Word for the Year is in Hebrew – Lucinda Secrest McDowell

What Elisabeth Elliot Told Me | Lucinda Secrest McDowell – "Encouraging Words" (wordpress.com)

FOUNTAIN

A monthly feature on a hymn of the faith. Many years ago, co-workers who invited me home to dinner asked me to play something on their piano. Church-goers, they had a hymnal on the piano’s music ledge, so I opened it to “The Old Rugged Cross.” Within a few notes, the wife said, “Oh, please don’t do that one, it’s so bloody.” Her reaction surprised me. It also made me reflect on how our faith does rest on a blood-stained cross and how Jesus Christ died in a terrible way for MY (not HIS) sins.  There’s another “bloody” hymn, nearly 300 years old, often sung as we anticipate Easter: “There is a Fountain Filled with Blood.” Its lyrics were composed by William Cowper (pronounced “Kooper”), best remembered as one of England’s greatest poets. Son of an English clergyman and a mother with royalty in her bloodline, he was a frail and emotionally sensitive child. His mother’s death when he was only six further deepened his emotional issues. When he fell in love as a young adult, his father would not permit him to marry the woman. Cowper’s father had urged him to study law, but the young man’s fears as he anticipated his final bar exam before the House of Lords led to a mental breakdown and attempted suicide.                              

  During his recovery in a mental asylum for a year and a half, one day he read from Romans 3:23-25 of how the blood of Christ was God’s plan for forgiveness of sins. Eventually, through reading the Bible, he came into a personal relationship with Jesus. He was 33 years old.

After Cowper’s release, Rev. Morley Unwin and his family took him into their home. The wife, especially, became like a second mother to him. When Rev. Unwin died, his widow and family—including Cowper—were invited by John Newton (slave-trader-turned-Christian minister) to move to his parish in Olney, England. There, Newton often took Cowper on long walks, which proved therapeutic for Cowper’s mental struggles.

Their close friendship resulted in publication of the “Olney Hymns,” a groundbreaking collection of 349 hymns, including 66 by Cowper and the rest by Newton, including Newton’s own “Amazing Grace.” One of Cowper’s hymns was “There is a Fountain Filled with Blood,” written about 1770, and based on the imagery in Zechariah 13:1. That verse anticipated Christ’s full atonement for forgiveness of sins through His death on the cross: “In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and uncleanness.” We sing the hymn today to music of an American folk tune. Other Cowper hymns found in recent hymnals include: “Oh, for a Closer Walk with God,” and “God Moves in a Mysterious Way.”

Cowper’s “informal adoption” by Mrs. Unwin and then the Newtons sustained him as he continued to battle depression. Though at times he worried that God would turn His back on him, Cowper came to his death at 69 with eternal assurance. Shortly before his last breath, he is reported to have said, “I am not shut out of heaven after all.” He had taken to heart his own lyrics, “And sinners plunged beneath that flood, lose all their guilty stains.”

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Bill Gaither musicians sing from their hearts—solo by Vestal Goodman (includes lyrics):

Vestal Goodman - There Is a Fountain [Live] - Bing video