JUST DROPPING IN....

I learned a new word today: hydrophobicity. It's defined as “the physical property of a molecule that is seemingly repelled from a mass of water.” For a quickie illustration, check out plant leaves after a heavy dew, watering, or rain shower—like this photo of rose leaves. I find that when I slow down to just observe, I have the reminders of an amazing, inscrutable Creator who included such beauty for me to enjoy. Thus, I see transient diamonds right there in my front yard, quivering on a velvet bed.

Okay, if you're a scientist, you're thinking of an attribute of molecules that takes many words to explain. But I'm satisfied with just seeing beauty in the ordinary, little reminders to worship the Creator, whose handiwork has mandated centuries of awe-filled study.

Sometimes, life grinds on at such a pace that I forget to pause and just look. Reflect. Be in awe. Scripture says the heavens declare the glory of God, and the earth shows His handiwork (Psalm 19:1). I'm learning to look, listen, linger. One night the sunset cast such a brilliant orange on the horizon that I couldn't keep from sharing it. I called a close friend and said, “Quick, look out the window at the sunset,” then hung up. The color didn't last long, but she called back and thanked me for alerting her to it. To my surprise, she later gave me a photo print of that sky. She'd grabbed her camera for an “image” that lasted longer than a few minutes. I have it on my refrigerator along with coupons and photos of my grandchildren.

A much quoted thinker of the 1800s once said, “All I have seen teaches me to trust the creator for all I have not seen.” I hesitate somewhat to use this quote—by Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose theology wandered into Eastern religions outside Christianity—but I think it says what he probably didn't intend. It's this: that the heavens and earth are so amazing, so diverse, to interconnected, so beautiful—well, the “so's” can go on and on—that failure to consider their Creator is a travesty.

It is so right that the Bible's first words are: “In the beginning God created....” Not, "God called together a committee to plan this project.” God created. And His decision after creating beauty was to create people to enjoy it.

Of course, we know the Genesis story went sour...and so here we are. But God's Big Story will come to an ending chapter of magnificent redemption. In the meantime, I savor the reminders of His perfect creation, His delightful delicacies of plant and water, His gifts right in front of me—if I just stop and look.

So what if we name it “hydrophobicity.” I call it a fingerprint of the Creator.

IT'S NOT THE 'MATTRESS HYMN'!

The story behind a hymn of the faith.

Jokes aside, the hymn “How Firm a Foundation” is not about mattresses or the undergirding of a building! Instead, with noble words and tune, this well-known, well-loved hymn identifies our spiritual foundation as Jesus Christ.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word.

What more can He say than to you He hath said,

To you who to Jesus for refuge have fled?

Despite the endurance of this stout hymn through more than two centuries (first published 1787), its true authorship has remained a bit confused. It's been attributed to a George Keith (1639?-1716), who worked in publishing. He was the son-in-law of a Dr. John Gill (1697-1771), an English Baptist pastor and scholar. However, another person connected to the hymn is “Robert Keen” (also known as Keene” or simply as “K”) who was cantor (music leader) at the Carter Lane Baptist Church in London under John Rippon, who pastored two London congregations an incredible 63 years until his death at 85.

Rippon's name is most connected with the hymn because he helped compile a Baptist hymnal to augment the already-existing hymnal by prolific hymn-writer Isaac Watts (1674-1748, credited with some 750 hymns himself).

“Fear not,” the second verse begins. Verse 3 uses the analogy of deep waters, verse 4, fiery trials. The conclusion declares:

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose,

I will not—I will not desert to His foes;

That soul, though all hell shall endeavor to shake,

I'll never—no, never—no, never forsake!

Last but not least, consider its scriptural allusions:

1 Peter 1:23 (KJV): “Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever.”

Isaiah 41:10: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” This was the beloved hymn of General Robert E. Lee and has been performed at the funerals of several US politicians, including Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson. On Christmas Eve 1898, American units engaged in the Spanish–American War joined together to sing the hymn. The members were from the North and the South.

Why its diverse popularity through the centuries? Perhaps because it express with a stout but joyful tune the assurance and joy of our salvation through Jesus Christ.

WORN DOWN

A, S, M, N—on my computer's keyboard, those letters are “no more.” Years of typing have worn off the lettering, so I pressed on "substitutes" cut from adhesive labels. But that's okay. Other than to make sure my index fingers are on the “home keys” of F and J when I start typing, the process has become quite automatic.

I have a fun story about anchoring “typing fingers.” One year during college I lived on the same floor as a blind student. She had some shadowy vision, we understood, and could find her way around the campus. Yet we “floor-mates” sometimes took turns making sure she navigated okay. That was especially helpful at meal time when she needed to choose a la carte foods she couldn't see and then find her way to an empty chair. Our “assistance” was rewarded by her gracious presence. As for typing—yes, she typed on a regular typewriter. But if she got her anchor fingers on the wrong keys, the result was gobbledygook. She also had a Braille “typewriter” that punched out the raised letters she could read. For quick note-taking (without dragging the heavy Brailler around), she had a special punching slate. I ordered one and wrote her in my primitive Braille a few times after college years. I still have it along with my 3x5 how-to card (the symbols in reverse for punching).

My Braille "writer" and ABC guide

Where am I going with this? Maybe that we need to be sensitive to communication styles. A regular written or typed message was hard for our college floor-mate to read. But she responded well to verbal commands or a hand on the forearm--done with grace and care.

More recently I've watched situations where one or both persons in a relationship don't see “eye to eye” or are blinded to their own faults. The same-old complaints or demands upon someone are like worn-down computer keys. In anger, someone might just stab at an emotional “key”--and the result does not spell “love” or “grace.” Knowing someone's “communication style” helps a lot. Few people respond positively to being worn down by nagging or demands. More are amenable to “appreciation” and “us” messages like, “How can we work together to achieve this?” This is how we obey the Bible's command to strive for peace with one another (Romans 12:18).

I've had my little Braille stylus and punch for more than half a century. It's one of those odd things rattling around in my desk drawer. I guess I hang onto it because it reminds me of my blind friend's determination to persevere and succeed. (I heard that she became a physical therapist and later married.) As such, she inspired me—more than she may ever realize.