PLUMED HATS OFF TO THEM....

Quail tracks in the snow

Maybe I first heard it sung by my mother or father—that 1926 pop song with lyrics about a red-red-robin that went bob-bob-bobbin' along. Move over, Mr. Robin. Make room as well for the quail, which faithfully visit my yard, especially in late fall and early winter. I know the quail are about when I hear their quiet chortles as they forage for food, their heads bobbing up and down. A rose hedge, full of rose-hips, was once their bird-friendly gourmet dinner. That hedge is now gone, so I'm hoping other treasures of the yard will draw them back and I'll again hear them chortling “Rebecca, rebecca!”

Of course, there are many quail species; the one most commonly seen where I live has that distinctive top-of-the-head six-feathered plume, which reminds me of an old-time military guard's helmet. Although it's a bird, it's a ground-dweller as its wings can barely lift it off the ground. When it feels threatened (like by an approaching human or predator) the quail scurry away in a ground-running flutter.

Despite their fraidy-cat behavior, they're a delightful sound and sight. I know winter is hard for them; they don't fly—they cannot fly—to a warmer climate. So they hang around our northern, snowy environment, working hard to find something to eat. In the spring, they show up with their tiny just-hatched chicks jockeying just behind, learning the ropes of finding food. Sometimes I wish they could understand “human-talk.” When, after a snowfall, I see them nosing around my yard, I want to tell them, “Hang on, I'll throw out some bird seed.” It doesn't take much—even the door opening—for them to react and scatter in a noisy mass fluttering.

THE BIBLICAL QUAIL-TRAIL...

For whatever reason God created these earth-bound birds, I'm grateful for the spiritual lessons they bring to mind. One is the Bible verse I taught to fourth grade girls in a Sunday school class decades ago:

Fear thou not; for I am with you; 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.(Isaiah 41:10)

I recall using hand movements to help the girls memorize it.

“Fear thou not, for I am with you''--head-turning for “no.”

“Be not dismayed, for I am your God”--pointing upward (for God).

“I will strengthen you”--arm lifted into “show your muscle” pose.

“I will help you”--arm lowered, outstretched hand.

“I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness”--arm raised, pointing upward.

Even decades later, that verse (with its hand movements) comes quickly to mind. And not just when I see the local quail skitter around with their “fraidy-cat” reactions to any possible threat. I've had to deal with my own threatening situations and angry people, which do get the adrenaline flowing. But right behind those spiritual tests I hear this affirming verse anew: Fear thou not, for I am with you. And isn't that, at the heart, one of the key messages of Christ's coming?

----------

Here's a photo and more on this beautiful bird: 

California quail - Wikipedia

MIST-TERY

When my home was first built, more than forty years ago, this tree was barely thigh-high when planted. I'm not good as guessing heights, but I think it's more than twenty feet tall. It commands a corner of the front lawn. No, I don't string lights on it at Christmas, but it's “evergreen-ness” is a regular reminder of God's amazing plan for plant life. This tree quietly sheds some needles, but just across the fence, my neighbor's willow generously drops its autumn-yellowed covering. (You can see some of its branches just to the right.), Leaf-fall and fall-mist seem to be constant cousins, painting their own canvas of a land settling in for winter's chilling pause.

I recently came across this quote: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, the present is a gift. Every day is a gift—that's why it's called a present.” For those of us who live in cooler climates (with the vivid change of seasons), the cycle of winter-spring-summer-fall brings vivid reminders of a Divine plan even for earth's weather. A season to grow. A season to rest. A reason to awaken and grow again.

My three grandsons were here the other night for dinner. I'd already wrapped their Christmas gifts, which sat in a pile in the living room. Oh, they noticed those! Snicker, snicker, pinch, pinch. They've probably figured out the contents—the typical Grandma-sewn pajamas, now a holiday tradition. Last year they begged to open their gifts after the Christmas eve service, and promptly, one-by-one, dashed into the bathroom to change from “regular clothes” to their new Pj's.

The next morning, they would tear into the “stash” under their family's Christmas tree, including kits of all those little snap-together plastic blocks. You know the ones—their name starts with the letter “L.” Their current “cache” (a full storage bin) isn't enough to their little minds. There's always the “new kit” with a new project to build “just out” and beckoning....

And maybe there's a comparison here between a growing tree and a growing pile of tiny plastic play-blocks. Each has its purpose—the one to sustain the environment, the other to “grow” little minds. The blocks certainly “trained” their dad's mind to “configure” and “connect.” He became an electrical engineer.

Back to that tree. Who would have imagined its steady growth from a “wee thing” to a giant of needled green beauty? And so it should be with us, spiritually. Planted in faith, nurtured with the Word, we are to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18). And when those spiritual growing pains come—when life is hard—to remember: “Tribulation produces perseverance, and perseverance, character, and character, hope” (Romans 5:3-4).

Not wimpy, half-hearted, mist-blurred “religion,” but stalwart faith in a loving God.

SIGNS OF LABOR

If winter's cold is getting you down, imagine yourself back in summertime... when instead of mittens or stout snow gloves I was wearing...garden gloves.

My  garden gloves were a mess—torn, somewhat mended with duct tape, definitely ready for the trash after years of grubbing out weeds. I guess my sister-in-law noticed when she stopped by one day while I was down-on-my-knees wrestling with rose-bed weeds. Soon after, here came her practical, loving gift: new gloves.

I purposely chose the word “wrestling,” as my “knee-level” gardening stance regularly reminds me of another implication of “on-your-knees”: that of earnest prayer. Prayer doesn't need a certain body posture. But I've experienced how the “down-on-the-knees” posture helps adjust my heart-attitude when I'm wrestling with heart-wrenching prayer needs.

That's also the word translators chose (from the Greek pale) for the earnest prayers of one of the leaders of an early New Testament church located in today's nation of Turkey. The word is tucked away in Paul's letter to the church in Colossae (near today's modern city of Honaz in southwest Turkey*).

Epaphras, who is one of you and a servant of Christ Jesus, sends greetings. He is always wrestling in prayer for you, that you may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured. (Colossians 4:12 NIV)

Even though Paul had never been to the city (see Colossians 2:1), he had once hoped to come there in person to encourage the Colossian believers. Christianity had been planted there through the ministry of Colossian resident Epaphras, converted during a trip to Ephesus (about 100 miles away). Now, years later, this new church had adapted some heresies into their faith platform, including a descent into legalism and Gnosticism. Epaphras knew he needed help to lead this congregation, so made the long trip to Rome to consult with Paul, now a prisoner on house arrest.

In response to Epaphras' concern, Paul wrote this pastoral letter, full of doctrine and theological correction. It ended with extensive “final greetings” that revealed his appreciation for those who were carrying on the Colossian ministry. Ten names dot the final ten verses—quiet reminders of believers who put on their “work gloves” to serve that church.

I wonder if, at this point, Paul felt something like worn-out work gloves. He'd traveled thousands of miles, enduring beatings, stonings, and persecutions. Yet, stranded in Rome as a prisoner, he realized he'd probably have to give up hopes of “hands-on” ministry in Colossae. He had to turn it over to “new gloves,” new leaders who had to confront the false legalistic teachings and affirm the Gospel message of faith in Christ.

Or, to continue the analogy: it was a situation of “out with the old rules/rituals and weird Gnostic ideas” and “in with the new life-giving Gospel.” Crusty, dirty, worn-out religious ideas OUT, the fresh, working-gloves faith in Jesus, IN!

*See map here: Honaz,Denizli, Türkiye - Bing Maps

**For a little more on the Colossian heresy, go here: 

Whatis the Colossian Heresy?

HE ALONE--MY ROCK

"Saddlerock"--the most famous rock above my valley.
It reminds me of the desolate terrain where David hid.

The contemporary worship song “In Christ Alone” has been been wafting through my mind lately. Here's an online presentation to bring it to mind, if you're not familiar with it: Bing Videos* (full link below).

The most recent “come-to-mind” occasion surfaced as I read Psalm 62, which Bible scholars think may have been related to David's unsought “alone” time in the desert during his son Absalom's attempt to usurp the throne.

My soul finds rest in God alone, My salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken.(vv. 1-2)

The next verses talk about enemies who want to topple a man. Surely this fit the situation of a king being pushed from his throne. But David, in his “aloneness,” found the holy aspect of “alone” in making God alone his hope:

Find rest O my soul, in God alone; my hope is from him, He alone is my rock and my salvation, He is my mighty rock, my refuge, I trust in him at all times, O people; Pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. (vv. 5-8)

Quiz time: go through this psalm and mark every time the words “only” and “alone” are mentioned. There are times when worship communities or “small groups”--as good as they are in spiritual nurture--aren't enough to get us close to God's heart. He often speaks in the quiet, silent pauses. Surely that was the case of the Old Testament prophet Elijah, who ran for his life from a treacherous royal couple, ending up in a desolate place. There, alone, cut off from human contact, he waited for God's next nudge. And waited. Finally came that holy moment, after a mysterious spiritual pause in ministry, when God revealed the prophet's next task (1 Kings 16-17).

This Bible story grips me, because I'm prone to believe the cliché, “If it's supposed to be, it's up to me.” But when I shift the emphasis to “in Christ alone,” I learn to seek His path. I learn God is in the pauses as well as the actions. Instead of charging down an unknown path, I go forward carefully, keeping my eyes on Him, “the Author and Perfecter of Faith.”

Jesus was never in a hurry. He included solitude and silence—rest in the Father--in His daily rhythms. For get-it-done personalities like mine, such reminders are important—no, more than that, absolutely necessary—to keep focused on His unfolding will for my life.

Video link: 

https://www.bing.com/videos/riverview/relatedvideo?q=%22In+thee+alone%22%2Bhymn&mid=537489326122024E7DC5537489326122024E7DC5&FORM=VIRE

HORN OF PLENTY-TO-BE-THANKFUL-FOR

Thanksgiving—yes, it's “cornucopia” time, with the cone-shaped decor stuffed with leaves and autumn leaves or fruits brought out of storage for this season. So named for its cone shape (duh!), some sources say its use dates even to the Bronze Age (3300-1200 B.C.). Back then, of course, it had nothing to do with “Thanksgiving” as we know it. Instead, “cornucopias” were broken off-animal horns.

The name derives from the Latin cornu (for “horn”) and copia (for “plenty”). Word-origin tales include two from Greek mythology. One says the baby Zeus accidentally broke off the horn of a goat that nursed him. As the tale goes, the horn provided divine, unending nourishment. The other myth concerns Zeus's offspring Hercules, who broke off the horn of a river god. Somehow in the detours that myths take, the “horn” became a symbol of an abundant harvest.

Fast track through more history, and the Vikings, Germanic tribes, Celts and Romans began using horns as drinking utensils. Eventually man-crafted horn-like drinking vessels emerged, made of ivory and embellished with gold, silver and enamel. Out in the fields, the curved cone shape morphed into a strapped basket that hung from the shoulders of harvest workers. (I can just imagine its practicality for crops like grapes and other fruit.) Advance to our times, when the cornucopia is typically reserved for November decorations, filled with autumn leaves, nuts, miniature pumpkins and gourds.

So, yes, I dug out our decades-old cornucopia for display this November. I also recalled how for many years another November “tradition” at our home was a family “thankful box.” This was a square facial tissue box onto which I glued autumn-motif fabric. I put it on the table with scraps of paper and a pencil. All month, family members were to fill it with notes about what they were thankful for. On Thanksgiving evening, we emptied the “box” and read aloud the notes. It was a wonderful way to practice the scriptural admonition:

In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you. --1 Thessalonians 5:18 (KJV).

Alas, in our times, we rush through the “cornucopia” season to the buy-buy-buy season. The day after Thanksgiving is known as “black Friday” for the frantic search for holiday bargains ahead of Christmas. Such frenzy stands in contrast to the simple message that the cornucopia symbolizes. The best things aren't on sale racks. They're in the simple provision of daily sustenance that comes from the heart and hand of our generous God. Thanksgiving-time “thankfulness” should recalibrate our hearts for the December-celebrated, supreme reason for “thankfulness”: a Savior, Christ the Lord.

DUSTY...

Spider webs captured smoke ash
on shrubs at my home

My household “chore” as a small child was “dusting” the furniture, wiping an old flannel cloth across surfaces. I don't recall dawdling and using my finger to write my name in the dust, although I could have so-”autographed” the household furniture. I just wanted to get through my chore! I remember that chore now as I notice more-than-usual household dust in my own home, no thanks to multiple wildfires in hills and mountains in my part of the state.  

Winds are wafting the smoke into our valley, dusting everything (including what sneaks into the house) with a gray ash veil. And I remember....that ash had great symbolic meaning in the Bible. Often it's used for human mortality and humility before God. One of the more familiar occasions: Job, bereft of all he held dear (children, possessions, health) and left only with a crabby wife. Here he sat in ashes, afflicted with a miserable illness such that nobody wanted to get too close to him, and she hollers, “Curse God and die” (Job 2:9). (I wouldn't call her an “encourager”!)

It helps to understand this Biblical “sitting in ashes” pose to realize that in those times ashes represented repentance, mourning, humility, and morality. Besides sore-covered Job sitting in the ash heap, some centuries later there was city-wide ash-sitting in Nineveh. That's when Jonah, still dripping in whale saliva, followed through with God's command to call the city to repentance. It shocked the whole evil town, and even the king put aside his royal robes for sackcloth, and left his throne for a pile of ashes (Jonah 3:6).

Such history helps me understand why in Mosaic law, ashes were used in purification rituals. Representing human frailty, judgment and destruction, ashes pointed to cleansing and hope. But I think Jesus put another spin on the rite when He rebuked the evil cities of Korazin and Bethsaida (located north of the Sea of Galilee), which--despite seeing His miracles--refused to repent (“in sackcloth and ashes”--Matt. 11:21) for their sins.

There's nothing magic about “dust and ashes.” But there is truth in their symbolism: that of admitting that the “things of earth”—like living a “good” but Christ-empty life--are worthless unless there's a heart renewed by the purifying power of God.

BEDSIDE BUDDIES

I'm trying to break a habit—of having way too many books on my bedside table. I know of folks who can't head for bed until they've watched the 10 o'clock evening news. I fade before then, preferring to let God's Word or wisdom from others who've absorbed spiritual truths be my “last thoughts” of the day. So, yes, some classic and edifying books are stacked next to my alarm clock.

Here are the books I'd accumulated at bedside before my recent pare-down (I kept about half bedside). The ones I removed are now on an office bookshelf—still appreciated as faithful “book friends” to which I will return for spiritual challenge and hope.

*The Disciplines of Life by V. Raymond Edman (c. 1948). He was the fourth president of Wheaton College in Illinois (1941-1965) and then was college chancellor. He died in 1967 while speaking to students in the college chapel. Today, the chapel at this well-known Christian college bears his name. So do the titles of 19 Christian books. This one develops 31 seemingly negative circumstances (all starting with the letter “d,” like “danger” and “disillusionment”) and draws from them their hidden spiritual blessings. In other words, looking at the “good” that can come out of life's “bad.”

*The Amplified New Testament (c. 1958). I have my mother's copy of this devotional (she died in 1978). I appreciate the “enlargement” of original Greek word meanings in its text (designated by parenthesis) plus am touched to see which verses she had underlined in red.

*My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers (c. 1935). Based on devotionals he delivered in England and to English troops stationed in Egypt (1911-1917).

*Streams in the Desert by Mrs. Charles Cowman (c. 1966). Classic devotional by former missionary, draws heavily from classic Christian literature.

*Be Worshipful by Warren Wiersbe (c. 2004). An insightful and practical study of Psalms. I had the privilege of meeting this pastor/teacher/writer when he spoke to my graduate class at Wheaton College.

*The Practice of Godliness (1983) and The Pursuit of Holiness (1978) by Jerry Bridges. Lived-through, challenging studies of these spiritual qualities by a man long associated with The Navigators ministry.

*Hurt People Hurt People by Dr. Sandra Wilson (c. 2001). This former family therapist's insights helped me navigate past emotional wounding.

*Healing for Damaged Emotions by David Seamands (c. 1981). Helpful for healing from challenging relationships, meaningful for same reason as Dr. Wilson's book (above).

Yes, I also have a Bible on my bedside table—actually, a small, lightweight New Testament for those “final moments of the night” that I like to close with something from God's Word. Its small size also helps me with scripture memorization. No more hoisting my heavy reference Bible back and forth for that discipline of getting God's Word “inside” me.

I have to confess that a few years ago, my evening “habit” included one of the prime-time TV game shows. I enjoyed trying to beat the contestants to the right answer. But the Lord drew me away from that, reminding me of the better priority of absorbing His love letter to me with its messages of hope and help for life's challenges. I rarely watch television anymore.

I get little reader feedback from this blog, though the internet statistics show many are clicking into it. Would you care to share your favorite bedside books in the comments section below?

ROOTED

Well....this weed had a deep “foundation”--and I'm glad the soil was moist enough that I could “liberate it” from further growth without leaving the root in the soil to propagate again. I'm sure you've seen—as I have—homes in the community where weeds have taken over. I pass by one nearly every week, the once-trim lawn now thigh-high in weeds. I know that house, in and out. Back in my single days (the early 1970s) I rented a bedroom there for a winter. At that time it had orange shag rug, and my roommates had a dog who thought that rug was a dandy location for its, uh, “bathroom duties.” But, I digress...

Driving past it now—overwhelmed by weeds and more—I remember our  “renter duties” of mowing and weeding. We kept it 'lookin' good." Now when I see an unkempt house, I think of several reasons “why.” Sometimes it's in an estate situation—the owner deceased, the inheritance knotted up in probate issues. Or it may be owner-occupied, and that owner unwell or just doesn't care. Or, third choice, a rental, with an absentee owner who, well, just doesn't care as long as the occupants pay the rent.

Bear with me for the analogy, but I wonder if our Lord looks over His world and finds hearts that are spiritually unkempt, full of the weeds of bad habits, sloth, anger, or indifference. I remember this principle: “For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:11). If the body-and-mind-house (our flesh-blood-thinking “selves”) doesn't have Jesus in residence and in control, it often shows in what we present outwardly to the world through our demeanor and words.

That seems to be a common theme in letters that the apostle Paul wrote to fledgling churches. Besides the one at Corinth (mentioned above which had its share of worldly “habits” to change) there were believers at Colossae (in modern-day Turkey), who got this Pauline reminder: “So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness” (Colossians 2:6-7).

In other words, the inner character that is revealed in our “outward lives”--as the soil yields either a mess of weeds or a groomed, cared-for lawn—is what the world sees. It's also how the world regards the difference that a faith “rooted” in the Lord Jesus Christ as Savior can make in our inside/outside "person."

Come to think about, one alternative to a cared-for lawn is one overwhelmed by crab grass. And it's hard to be “overflowing with thankfulness” if you've got weeds of crabby discontent in your life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go out and dig some weeds out of my real lawn.

TAKING IT DAY-BY-DAY

The plume visible from my street on 10/6

As I write this in early-October, my valley is “on alert” with smoke-filled skies from major, spreading mountain fires. Even this evening, as the sun sets in the west, the clouds are washed gray, pink and orange from the smoke pollution. As I study the sky, I recall the years we survived arson-set fires at my end of town. As flames came closer, we stayed alert via the local radio station for evacuation orders. One night was especially scary—we were ready to load the car with “survival essentials” and leave--but the fire was stopped just blocks from our home.

During active fire season, the saying “day by day” becomes especially poignant. Though my hometown was first established in dry, “high desert” terrain, it's now a river-bisected valley known for its apples and other crops nurtured by irrigation systems. Sometimes that connection reminds me of the Living Water, the Lord Jesus, who refreshes us and nurtures the spiritual fruit within us.

Often, the best way to describe this growing faith-walk is “day by day,” also the title of a hymn that has been close to my heart for years. The lyrics came from the heart of a Swedish woman, Lina Sandell Berge, a pastor's daughter who endured poor health as a child. She was especially close to her father. Sadly, when she was 26, she watched in horror as he fell overboard from a passenger boat and drowned. She later married, but her only child died at birth.

Yet God's grace shone through her life tragedies. She would eventually write more than 650 hymns that enriched the Pietist revivals in Sweden in the late 19^th century. Her hymn, “Day by Day,” is one of my favorites. When sadness from my losses begins to cloud my hope, I find myself recalling its tune and lyrics, like these which open the hymn:

Day by day, and with each passing moment,

Strength I find to meet my trials here.

Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,

I've no cause for worry or for fear.

The hymn goes on to declare that God, whose “heart is kind beyond all measure,” permits what happens each day, both “pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.”

Hope despite the heat of destruction. Something beautiful and eternal beyond the ravages of earthly life. Faith beyond life's fiery times. Beauty from ashes. Lived...day by day.

Just an aside: the hymnist's surname “Berge” is in my family tree. My maternal grandfather, Martinus Berge, who died just before I was born, had immigrated from Norway. 

RUNNING LIFE'S REAL RACE

My town's high school track (now fenced, I presume, to prevent vandalism) has served generations of students and local “walkers” who made their way around its red oval. It's no surprise that running has been around for a long time as a competitive sport. Nor that the Bible used that skill and sport to illustrate spiritual principles, like perseverance, faith, and the Christian journey. Among them:

RUN YOUR ABSOLUTE BEST. Of course getting first place is “the best,” but there's also an honorable goal called “your personal best.” Not everybody can stand on the top podium at awards time, but a race means you run. Thus the apostle Paul observed: “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it” (1 Cor. 9:24-27).

FORGET—BUT DON'T FORGET—THE WATCHING CROWD. Yes, I know that seems to contradict itself. The watching, cheering crowd send energy and determination into our performance. They want to see us do our best. And when I read Hebrews 12:2, I think of more than just the spectators at an athletic event. Instead, in the great Race of Life, we're representing family—that on earth and that in heaven: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out of us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

RESIST DISTRACTIONS. It's easy to get sidetracked when you look off to the crowd. “Where are mom and dad? Where's my girlfriend/boyfriend/best friend?” Or, moral choices, like: “That little sin won't make a difference. Who will know? Who will see?” But God sees it all, allowing us in His wisdom to make stupid choices. Galatians 5:7 speaks to this: “You were running well. Who hindered you from obeying the truth?”

SEEK THE ENDURANCE GOD CAN SUPPLY. Those who run to win somehow reach deep inside to do better than their former best. “They who wait upon the Lord,” begins Isaiah 40:31, “shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” The movie industry gave us a picture of that in re-enacting the 1924 Paris Olympics run of Scotsman Eric Liddell, portrayed in the 1981 film “Chariots of Fire.” He'd trained for the 100-meter race, but before race day learned its heats would be held on a Sunday. A devout Christian, Liddell refused to compete on the Lord's Day. Instead, he signed for the 400-meter race—far more grueling. Yet, he won, with an Olympic record. And then, he retired from Olympics training to become a missionary in China.

Years later, while in China, someone asked if he regretted not making another try for Olympics fame. He replied: “It's natural for a chap to think over all that sometimes, but I'm glad I'm at the work I'm engaged in now. A fellow's life counts for far more at this than the other.” He would die in his 43^rd year of an undiagnosed brain tumor. But his testimony of honoring Christ in life's Real Race still inspires.

"DO NOT CALL?"

I did the grumpy and responsible thing: opted in to the “Do Not Call” (DNC) registry to try to slow down the flood of unwanted solicitor phone calls. But still they came, like a mud slide that keeps oozing down into the abyss of frustration. (Picturesque analogy, right?)
    So, is it worth it? The website explaining the “DNC” rule admits it has “limited effectiveness," as the registry says it mostly targets "legitimate telemarketers" but “may not prevent calls from scammers or robo calls.” Plus, after registering, calls can still come from charities, political groups, surveys, and debt collectors. And, I'd add, mean people who spoof emergency situations.
    I'm glad that God is “on call,” “receiving prayer calls,” and knowing the real thing from the spoofs. Also, that Heaven's phone system (Paradise Phone Co.?) isn't bound by rules and regulations except for those reflecting His love, His presence, and His kindness. I “hear” that between the lines in a Bible verse many have memorized:
“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know” (Jeremiah 33:3)
    Like any Bible verse, this one can have its meaning twisted and wrongly used. Historically, it came to Jeremiah while he was imprisoned by a king who didn't like the prophet's negativity. It was God's word of encouragement to a prophet who gave everything he had back to God in obedience, only to end up as a despised prisoner. This message wasn't a current “status report,” but a prophecy of a future nation of joy, peace and abundance, with the gracious, loving rule of a Messiah.
    Bear in mind how fantastic and unbelievable this prophecy must have been back in Jeremiah's time. His 40-year ministry included the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC. How badly the people of his time needed a dose of hope!
    The “calls” that Jeremiah and his contemporaries heard from other lands were threatening. Abusive calls. Worse than the “wanna-get-your-valuable-cardit-card-ID” calls that our culture's “junk callers” thrive on. Although it may not happen in my lifetime (though it could), the spam call “system” with its threatening and dubious intentions--along with all the allure and wrongness of fallen culture in general--will someday end with Christ's return. Let's call that 1-800-TOP-HOPE.

NOT-SO-SIMPLE SYNONYMS

One of the books on my desk reference shelf is called “The Synonym Finder.” I bought it back in college years when my English major mandated using such a reference work. If you're hopping along writing an essay and find yourself stuck for just the right WORD, this is the place to go. All 1,388 pages of it! Of course, it presumes you're an English speaker who knows enough of nuances of words that you won't pick one that just doesn't fit your meaning.

I think of that when I read Psalm 19, which is well-known for its synonyms for scripture and what it does in our lives. They spill out starting at verse 7 (as translated in the NIV):

The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul.

The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy, making wise the simple.

The precepts of the LORD are right, giving joy to the heart.

The commands of the LORD are radiant, giving light to the eyes.

The fear of the LORD is pure, enduring forever.

The ordinances of the LORD are sure, and altogether righteous.

All these, the psalmist says, are “more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.” It's easy to skip over these two comparisons. Gold is painstakingly taken from ancient rock veins and from eroded areas along rivers called “placers.” (Remember reading about California's “Gold Rush” of the mid-1800s, and frenzied, grizzled men swishing their pans along certain rivers they'd “staked” to pan for riches?) Gold has also been discovered in meteorites and oceanic vents.

As for the preciousness of honey, let's say it's not as easy to produce as, say, carrots. Today's honey—nature's “gold”--is “harvested” from its buzzing-bee-guarded incubator hive by someone wearing protective clothing and a veiled hat. In David's days, they didn't have such “garb,” and probably bee-farmers had their share of bee-warfare wounds.

But Psalm 19 is about more than adjectives for scripture. It's about obedience. It described scripture as “warnings” (v. 11), able to reveal our “hidden faults,” “willful sins” and behavior that threaten to “rule over me” (v. 12). That sounds like the biography of King David—and indeed, he is credited with the psalm!

Ever thought about the concluding verse?

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. (v. 14)

So much is packed in that closing. Our minds (hearts), and what comes out of our minds and emerges through our mouth, really matter. Kind, true and caring words (the focus of this psalm) should be my “mouth-set,” not the negatives I might hear from others in my daily tasks. They should be honoring of (v. 14) my Rock and Redeemer.

REMEMBERING....

Okay, so I'm a Mom Photoholic. The short hall between bedrooms and living room in my home is a portrait gallery, with family photos nearly all the years since our 1981 marriage. Yep, wedding photo, then with a newborn and then a second baby, all the way through their graduations, weddings and grandchildren. Some were taken by local photographers (like ones who long-ago worked out of corners of Wal-Mart, Penney's, and Sears!). Others came off personal cameras. My “recliner-rocker,” diagonally across the living room, has a full view of the “gallery.” Just about every day, from my recliner viewpoint, I look across and silently pray, “Thank you, Lord, for your faithfulness of 'family.'”

The last “family photo” was taken three months before my husband died. But that doesn't mean more “family chapters” aren't being written. Recently in reading Psalm 143, I paused at this verse:

I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (Psalm 143:5)

What's not being captured on a camera is still being captured in my heart.

In reading psalms, I'm mindful of the beginning attributions of many chapters. Psalm 143 doesn't have one but it speaks plaintively in verse 3 of being pursued by an enemy and having to “dwell in darkness” (likely meaning a cave). Obviously, David's referring to being pursued by murder-focused King Saul. But that verse is followed up by one beginning “I remember,” quoted above.

Despite his dire circumstances, David wasn't stuck in memories of “life the way it used to be.” He admitted feeling glum and weary of his negative circumstances:

Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit faints with longing. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. (v. 7)

BUT....he quickly switches to hope:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.” (v. 8)

The contrasts of hopelessness and hope, of dark and light, endear this psalm to me. I haven't had to literally hide in a cave from an enemy. (The closest I got to a “cave” were two “basement bedroom” living situations when I was still single!) But I've endured difficult life chapters with challenging people. At such times I understood and claimed David's closing verse in that psalm:

For your name's sake; O LORD, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies...for I am your servant (v. 12).

David may have had to dwell temporarily in caves, but he was no gruff  “caveman of old.” His outlook was “up”--to a heavenly Father—who knew exactly what was going on and had great plans for David. In time, He would answer as David prayed:

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. (v. 10)

Maybe that's a good description of my “family portrait wall” Year by year, the children grew older (as did their parents). We had good years, and bad years (like the year we were nearly killed by a drunk driver). But the photos continue to remind me: He has never forsaken me. And my heart is stirred to praise.

SPLAT!

My garage door recently sported some modern art before I used a wet rag to wipe it off. Either a feathered friend mistook the door's blue paint for sky or just wasn't paying attention to its route. I didn't find a dead bird nearby, so I hope he only suffered a slightly bruised chest and got on with life in the sky. I was fairly certain the bird wouldn't look for a wet rag to clean it up—so I did.

The unwelcome mess reminded me of other “splats” I'd experienced—the “splats” of mean and hurtful words. I'm not the type to go around yelling and insulting people in person or in written or virtual form. Yet for some reason, another's untrue and unsought mean words found their target with me. When I reacted, they retorted with excuses like, “I'm sorry you feel that way,” “You're too sensitive,” or “I didn't mean it like that.” Such replies attempted to bounce blame back onto me rather than acknowledging their own negative behavior causing the problem.

Weary of “splats,” I finally wrote this person a letter (which others read beforehand to assure its “kindness” tone), expressing how their anger and false accusations wounded me. After my backing away from that relationship, the "splats" decreased. 

Abandoning relationships isn't my to-go behavior. I thought of how patient Jesus was with people with problems. But when people in Jesus' life (like the Pharisees) persisted in their negatives, He drew a holy line. In my case, after prayer and seeking scripture's wisdom, I sensed the Lord permitting me to let go. His command to “love one another” didn't mandate being a continual negative target. Instead, putting down relationship “boundaries” might awaken reality in a person who habitually vented their unhappiness on others. Or who tossed out a “sorry” reply without the backup of personal reflection or accountability to change.

These times of computers and smart phones, we often hear the saying, “There's an 'ap' for that,” meaning you can download virtual instructions to achieve a task. I find “aps” for quitting “splats” throughout scripture, especially in Proverbs, which speaks so honestly to human behaviors:

Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. (Proverbs 16:24)

Better a patient man than a warrior, a man who controls his temper [my translation: doesn't go 'splat'] than one who takes a city. (Proverbs 16:32)

A man of knowledge uses words with restraint, and a man of understanding is even-tempered. (Proverbs 17:27)

Anti-splat instructions aren't limited to Proverbs. They're illustrated throughout scripture's stories and counsel, with healing words given a five-star rating:

Do not let any unwholesome [the Greek term is “saphros,” meaning “putrid”] talk come out of your mouth, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen (Ephesians 4:29)

The same passage gets painfully specific about a Christ-follower getting rid of “bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (v. 31).

Splat! Think of the, well, “body waste” a bird gifted my garage door. The cure is a cleansing cloth dipped in kindness, compassion, and forgiveness—remembering our own Cross-purchased gift of forgiveness from the Lord Jesus Christ (v. 32).

THOSE 'SOUR' SORRYS

 My young-mother years sometimes required settling sibling disagreements. This often ended by my requiring brother and sister to apologize face-to-face in the hall between their rooms. Whatever else could be credited (certainly the Lord's help!), I'm grateful they grew up to be good friends and responsible citizens!

Spats between young children are inevitable as they learn to navigate life. What has saddened me are the apologies (of sorts) I've experienced from adults who, it seems, had too much “save face” blocking the path of genuine repentance. Their replies went like this: “Sorry I got mad at you, but I was having a bad day.” Or, “Sorry to offend you. I didn't mean to set you off.”

I call them “Sour Sorrys” and they are nothing new. One Biblical example: Saul, a tall, handsome guy who had a good start (at least from the “looks” of it) to be Israel's first king. But as his royal life softened with extra wives and servants, fame went to his head. He got so jealous of David, God's choice for the next king (instead of Saul's son), that he repeatedly sent assassins David's way. One time, he asked that they capture David alive—at home in bed--so Saul could have the honor of killing David himself!

Then Saul sent the men back to see David [after David had escaped one assassination attempt] and told them, 'Bring him up to me in his bed so that I may kill him.' (1 Samuel 19:15)

Like, how low can you go?

A little later, Saul's anger toward an elusive David caught up. One hot day, while combing the desert to find and kill David, Saul went into a cave “to relieve himself” (1 Samuel 24:3), probably meaning he needed a quick, private "rest stop" in the coolness of the cave. Saul didn't know David was in the same cave, and could have quickly killed him. Instead, David chose the higher road of not harming the king.

This is when I turn to Psalm 63, one of many that David is believed to have written during his lonely, scary time as a wilderness refugee before becoming king himself. The psalm has this preface: “A psalm of David, when he was in the desert of Judah.” As a shepherd, David knew how to survive in the parched, dirty desert without today's “cool-packs,” cell phones and camper snacks. But he also had a God who was watching him. He expressed it in this psalm:

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me....You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways....(Psalm 139:1, 3)

This psalm and the one preceding it bring me hope and comfort when I deal with those who can't say “sorry” from the heart. Who can't honestly admit, “God has shown me my sins against you” nor name at least a few of them as part of the apology. Instead, they revert to “save-face” admissions—some of which we've seen in recent high-profile crime cases.

“Sorry” has become such a feeble word. It's more than “sorry, excuse me,” like when you try to avoid smashing someone's feet or purse-slugging heads when you're moving down a row of chairs to an empty seat. For deep emotional and spiritual hurts, just saying “sorry” is like a band-aid on an open surgical wound. Old Testament Hebrew has several words for “sorry,” including one whose meaning includes the idea of sighing or breathing strongly, such as when the words one needs to say are painful to get out. That's intense “sorry.”

Sadly, when we are wronged, we won't always hear a genuine “sorry” (with sorrow, from which we get our word “sorry”) from the offender. But God knows our anxious thoughts (Psalm 139:23) and hasn't stopped His intention to “lead [us] in the way everlasting” (v. 24). And that includes resolving differences...His holy way.

THE PAIN OF PEARLS

Ow! A splinter in my thumb. I didn't invite it, but it came....and how it hurt—both its “residence” and the hole left behind when I dug it out with a sewing needle and tweezers. That ordinary “injury” came to mind when I learned how pearls are formed. Yes, I knew they came from oysters, but what starts the process? The answer: pain. More specifically, a foreign object (like a grain of sand) that an oyster can't expel back into the water. In defense, it secretes layers of calcium carbonate and a protein called “conchiolin” that covers over the foreign item, in time producing a pearl. It can take anywhere from six months to three years for an oyster to produce the pearl of a size commonly used in jewelry.

I'm glad I'm not an oyster! But learning that nature fact prompted me to think about my response to intrusive pain. Like hardship, loss, or an unwelcome task. Or unpleasant, demanding, “entitled” people who make life, well, painful. I also thought about Jesus' short parable about a pearl:

The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it. (Matthew 13:45-46)

The interpretation of this parable? Bible scholars find two ways to look at it. One is that this exceptional, valuable pearl is God's gift of eternal life in Jesus Christ. He is worth putting our “all” out for a life-changing discovery and eternal spiritual riches. Note that this parable (similar to the one that precedes it, about a man finding buried treasure in an old field, which became his by buying the field) involves recognizing the value of the “find.”

Another viewpoint suggests the merchant represents the Lord Jesus. The “pearl of great price” (notice the adjective “great”) is the church. To purchase this pearl, He gave His life on a splintered executioner's cross. Similarly to how a pearl is formed inside an oyster's shell through an irritation (like a grain of sand), the church began its formation through fatal wounding of the Savior's earthly body. Thus, the “pearl of great price” is the church.

Whichever viewpoint one takes, this truth remains: the authentic spiritual life will involve pain. That which we don't want—conflict, difficult relationships, financial distress—may be the “sand inside the shell” that causes pain. We can choose to sit at the bottom of the “sea of despair” and complain about our pain. Or we can welcome the healing “coverings” of faith in Christ to turn our pain into something of spiritual beauty.

If you're interested in the largest pearls ever found, check this website:

9 Largest Pearls Ever Found - Largest.org

PRIORITIES

It's late August, and we're going through our annual late-summer “heat waves” with 100-degree temperatures. I'm grateful for today's “air conditioners,” recalling my younger years in stuffy, low-budget rental apartments without “A/C.” Instead, a noisy box fan helped move air so I didn't sizzle like bacon on a hot pan.

Our current blistering-hot days find me thinking of a psalm in which a deer's thirst becomes a spiritual analogy. You probably know the one, which starts:
As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? (Ps.42:1-2)

This bold, young deer visited the back yard
in late winter, obviously hungry (those
are rose bushes behind him--ouch!)

If you can remember back to the 1970s to the emergence of contemporary Bible choruses (many out of the Southern California “Maranatha!” ministries), you're probably humming that chorus. It's been running through my mind, too, as I go about my tasks. I recall how this psalm reflected a challenging time in David's life. His comfort and prestige were stripped away, and he was enduring the hard, hot life of hiding in the desert from insane, murder-intending King Saul. Food and water were precious and rare. Yet David found his hope and practical supply in God: The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. (Psalm 28:7)

I suspect that Psalm 42, with its downcast tone (like verse 3: “My tears have been my food day and night”) isn't apt to inspire upbeat “life verses.” The ticking away of days and years has its hard spots, and it's easy to think sadly about past “Glory Years.” Maybe we had more friends. Respect from others. A secure job we enjoyed. Health. A place to live which brought us comfort and happiness. A satisfying purpose for living. Or maybe a measure of fame.

Certainly “fame” was anticipated for Scotsman Eric Liddell, whose amazing athletic achievements were portrayed in the 1981 film “Chariots of Fire.” He was predicted to win the 100-meter race in the 1924 Olympics. But Liddell, a devout Christian who aspired to be a missionary, withdrew when he learned the race's heats would be held on a Sunday. Instead, he switched to the more grueling 400-meter race during the week.

In the movie script, Liddell was handed a note just before the race. Reportedly from his team's masseur, it read: “In the old book it says, he that honors me I will honor. Wishing you the best success always. 1 Samuel 2:30.” Despite the extra strain for him to attempt a race four times his “trained” length, Liddell won with an Olympic record of 47.8 seconds. It would stand until the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

From sports fame he moved on to mission work in China, dying there of an undiagnosed brain tumor in his 43^rd year. But his dedication to Christ's cause made a difference. Of course, he was asked “post-Olympics” if he regretted leaving behind his Olympic fame for mission service. He replied: “It's natural for a chap to think over all that sometimes, but I'm glad I'm at the work I'm engaged in now. A fellow's life counts for far more at this than the other.”

Powerful words about priorities! The Lord was Liddell's strength and shield. And even decades after his death, Liddell's passion for Christ still inspires.
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Enjoy these links connected to Liddell's story. This one presents the “deer” song: Bing Videos
Then, here is the movie reenactment of Liddell's Olympic race (skip the preceding ads): Bing Videos

STICKY SITUATION

I didn't intend for my worn-daily athletic shoes to fill their creases with dirt and pitch. All I did was notice the pine cone and twig debris under the evergreens along the backyard fence. I took a bucket, walked through the mess, and picked up all but the underlying needles. Those would have to wait for another day, when I had a rake and more energy.

I dumped the “collection” in the garbage bin, but as I walked over the driveway, I became aware of a “muck-muck” noise and a sense of stickiness under my shoes. You probably guessed. My under-the-tree task added tree sap and tree junk to the bottom of my athletic shoes. No way would I walk in those over the house rug—so off the shoes came. I hoped that as they dried out, I could pry out the muck with a sharp instrument (okay, my “compass” from high school trig math days—back when the “dangerous” pointed side wasn't yet outlawed).

I didn't have perfect results of “sticky-ickies” removal, but at least my “yard shoes” are back in business, but won't be getting near the sticky tree debris. I guess I could be clever and pull plastic bags over my shoes. Or else use some really antique tennies now delegated to yard-work and not allowed in the house....

I wonder how often, instead of picking up pitch under trees, we let down our guards and pick up the mucky, sticky, unwelcome conversational values of our non-Christian world. I remember my shock and disappointment when a young woman who grew up in a Christian home lost her cool and called me a vulgar name. Where did she acquire such gutter language? Not, that I know, from her Jesus-following parents. But I know she had a second life away from the God-honoring values of her upbringing. It had a screen and a keyboard, and from it, vulgar language and values likely entered her eyes and heart.

The apostle Paul knew how culture clashed with Jesus-centered values. He saw it at every city where he visited to evangelize, but it seems he pulled out all the stops of reproof when he wrote to the church at Ephesus:

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths.” (Ephesians 4:29)

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.” (Ephesians 4:31)

“Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place.” (5:4)

The apostle's alternative mouth-style was this: “thanksgiving” (Ephesians 5:4).

Granted, there are times when we need to address tough topics, but it's wrong to resort to the world's lazy and mucky language. It needs to go where my collection of pitch-drenched needles and twigs went: the disposal bin. Which is to say: ditch negativity, raise the integrity level of everyday conversation, including the virtual connections. Aim for words that are “helpful for building others up according to their needs....Be kind and compassionate” (Ephesians 4:32).

If tempted to use the world's coarse vocabulary, think of the pitch-drenched needle debris I scooped up from under the trees. A spoonful of those....ugh!

HEAVENLY-MINDED OR EARTHLY GOOD?

Hope fills my prayers. Hope... that the situations and people that I pray for will find transformation in Jesus Christ. Hope and Biblical assurance.... that God hears those prayers with unimaginable compassion for the people, places and problems that came to this planet He created.

I think C.S. Lewis captured this well—and as I re-read his words, I'm reminded that he made a 180-degree turn from atheism to faith in God. He wrote in Mere Christianity:

“Hope is one of the theological virtues. This means that a continual looking forward to the eternal world is not (as some modern people think) a form of escapism or wishful thinking, but one of the things a Christian is meant to do. It does not mean that we are to leave the present world as it is.

“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next. Apostles themselves, who set on foot the conversion of the Roman Empire, the great men who built up the Middle Ages, the English Evangelicals who abolished the Slave Trade, all left their mark on Earth, precisely because their minds were occupied with Heaven. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.”

The apostle Paul was so burdened about people becoming Christ-followers that he imagined himself as miserable as a woman in labor. (Not that he had personal experience in that!) He wrote the church in Galatia, “My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Galatians 4:9).

He didn't live Sunday-to-Sunday. He lived today-to-promised-eternity and heavenly citizenship, eagerly waiting for Jesus, “who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like His glorious body” (Phil 3:21).

Writing in old, old age, reflecting on what he'd learned personally from Jesus, the apostle John wrote: “Now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).

With those words, he thumbed in time to the last pages of history. What encouragement to know the outcome!

I've heard of people who like to start a mystery or who-done-it book, but take a peek at the last chapter to see how it will turn out. That takes the mental exercise out of it! But we don't have to wonder about the incidents and characters, the clue-plants and distractions that are parcel to who-done-its. We know already Who-done-it! The sinless One who visited planet earth, taught, suffered, died, rose, returned to the Father...and is coming again!

GOT YOUR GOAT?

My neighborhood is quite a suburban mix; single-family homes, apartments and townhouses, mobile home courts, and even a pasture nibbled down regularly by a small herd of goats. When God created goats, I wonder if He stifled a chuckle. Their bearded little heads and nervy behavior bring a smile to my face when I drive or walk past their pasture.

One day I thought about the phrase “got your goat.” I knew it was connected to situations when something or someone upset or angered someone else. Like, “Sorry, didn't mean to get your goat.” Why goat​? Why not another animal, like dog or cat or cow or baboon? If you have ever wondered, it's supposedly related to how goats could be used to calm racehorses. If a nervous, on-edge horse's “calm goat” was removed, it would possibly get upset and lose the race.

Well, I won't get into Derby fashion (if you want to, try this link: What To Wear: Kentucky Derby fashion and outfits for women & men | KentuckyDerby.com ) But it's interesting that the cultural icon of animal prowess (read: prizing fast horses) has a big-hat dress code! But goats are also in its culture....

Maybe more needs to be said about goats. They're interesting creatures:

*They have a reputation for being curious.

*They can be taught their name and come when called.

*They're picky eaters.

*Their sneezes are alarm sounds.

*They don't like water. Confronted by a puddle or stream, they try to leap over them.

*They're excellent climbers.

*They have an efficient digestive system. (Sorry, not tin cans.)

*They have distinct personalities: shy, nervous, curious, aggressive, affectionate.

*Their tendency to be fearful means they like having an escape “platform” or “partition” in their resting or eating areas.

In our era, their name has become an acrostic for excellence or prowess—Greatest Of All Time. Sports heroes crave that distinction. Likewise, standouts in other vocations or positions.

You know where I'm going with this. In God's writing of history, only ONE was the Greatest of All Time. Jesus. Got HIM?