BEING BOLD...

A friend gave me this little dish—I presume a “resting place” for a tea bag—that (alas!) got me thinking about ways I should be “bold” and ways I shouldn't!

Thankfully, scriptures helped me identify the “okay” boldness. They include:

*Everyday spiritual confidence: “The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1).

*Boldness amid spiritual negatives: “Now, Lord, look on their threats and grant to Your servants that with all boldness they may speak your word” (Acts 4:29)

*A wise and courageous “mouth-set”: The apostle Paul's request: “That I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel” (Ephesians 6:19-20).

*Confidence through faith in Christ: “Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold” (2 Corinthians 3:12).

Disclaimer: “boldness” is not “brashness.” “Boldness” is pure in motives, earnest in application, gracious in circumstance. Brashness tends to beat people up or tear them down. Boldness is trusting God to point to the right words and actions to bring about right-living in the midst of our fallen world.

Some heroes of the faith who showed boldness:

David, in facing Goliath and trusting God in what seemed overwhelming odds.

Esther, who put her comfortable life at risk to ask her pagan husband-king to spare the Jews from annihilation (including herself!).

The Lord's disciples, including (later) Paul, who faced mobs and imprisonment for telling about Jesus.

If those who analyze personalities proposed a continuum that had shy and mousy people on the left, and bold “shaker-movers” on the right, I'd be among the meek crowd huddling on the left of the chart. I took Speech 101 in college (required, even for shrinking-violet freshmen) but crossed “public speaker” off of my life goals. How was I to know that a few decades later I'd move on that chart a bit to the other side. Not way across to “brave, brash and quotable,” but able to address moderately large crowds without fainting under the podium.

Probably my heroine for “be bold” was an aged German woman who specialized in the quiet, precise work of watch repair. Then war yanked her out of the watch shop, and she survived arrest and notorious imprisonment during the Holocaust. Once freed, she could have retired to a quiet, safe life. Instead, until very old age, she traveled the world, declaring her faith and trust in God in the most horrific of experiences. Among her quotes (which I never forgot in a once-a-lifetime experience of hearing her speak): “There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still.” Her name (if you hadn't already figured it out): Corrie ten Boom.

Godly boldness is not nurtured in cotton-soft circumstances. It rises from the fires of trial, purged by the love of Christ, and spread with the compulsion of God-stoked conviction.

HIDDEN

 It's one of the most frequently memorized Bible verses:

Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against thee. (Psalm 119:11)

That verse sometimes came to mind as I look out the window and watch the local squirrels hurriedly dig a hole and drop in a just-acquired walnut. Often, when weeding, I find these “squirreled away” treasures. Some were quite dried out and dead, although a few had a tiny stem starting to poke out. A future walnut tree. But without the right conditions (good soil, water, light), most would never produce a tree.

When this psalm was written, the “Word” referred to the Torah or the “Law,” what we call the “Pentateuch.” That's the first section of today's Bible (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy), the scriptures of the psalmist's time. Today it means the Bible's entirety: Old Testament history, poetry, prophecy and the “second half” (“New Testament”) with truths revealed through Jesus Christ's life and teachings. It's not a handbook given new employees! It's the ages-old counsel God provided for all humans.

The word translated “hid,” is from the Hebrew tsaphan, meaning to treasure, hoard, or cover. It's more than our English-language idea of “hiding” something from view. It's more like weaving golden strands of God's pure and loving standards into the fabric for everyday life. Those strands are heavenly truth to teach, reprove, correct and provide training in God's righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16).

Back to squirrels. They're not the only ones who hoard. Add in: chipmunks, hamsters, rats, mice, woodpeckers, corvids (crow family), moles, fire ants and fiddle crabs! And yes, humans. I've been inside the living quarters of hoarders. It is utterly sad that they can't let go of “things.” As I say this, my finger is pointed back at myself as I pursue “paring down piles” in my own home.

This whole idea of “stuff” (or personal treasures) takes me to the biographies of godly people like Corrie ten Boom. When arrested by the Nazis in World War 2, she was able to hide under her clothing a small copy of the Bible. Miraculously, during her concentration camp imprisonment, she was able to keep it from being discovered. At night, she'd bring it out in the filthy prisoner dorm (see one at this site: corrie ten boom prison camp - Search Images) and share with these hopeless women about Jesus and her hope in Him.

I hope you looked at that picture. Consider your despair if you'd been one of the cold, starving prisoners crammed into lice-infested, stacked bunks—all victims of a dark life outlook based on greed and political power. Then, look to Jesus. And scriptures.

The book about Corrie ten Boom's nightmare Nazi imprisonment (later a movie of the same name) was called “The Hiding Place,” referring to a hidden room in her home where she sheltered refugees before her own arrest. It also alludes to the declaration of David, himself a refugee from King Saul's murderous hunt for him, referred in Psalm 32:7:

You are my hiding place; You preserve me from trouble; You surround me with songs of deliverance. Selah.

“Selah” is a Hebrew word loosely translated, “Stop and think about it.” Thus I'll end: Selah!

WORRY BAGS

How big can a purse get before it’s considered a suitcase? I think about that when I see displays of huge purses at stores (or thrift stores, as in this photo), then recall how I try to minimize what’s in my purse. I’m not sure when the standard modest purse disappeared. When I was in high school in the 1960s, when the “ratted/poufed/sprayed” hairdos were all the rage, a teen girl’s purse wasn’t complete without a big can of hairspray to keep her locks in lacquer. (Disclaimer: I didn’t do that.) And of course, that took up space.

I’ve tried to keep my purse-life under control. I can’t survive with just a wallet, keys, and my tiny no-frills $7-a-month cell phone. Add a small calendar planner and a little zipped pocket thing for lipstick and the like. When I weighed mine recently, it was a decent four pounds, complete. But I’ve been attacked by mega-purses, not because somebody thought I was going to rob them, but in other innocent situations—like sitting in church next to an empty seat.  Even though I usually stand up to provide more room for the passer, I’ve gotten head-bashed by somebody’s mega-purse that borders on the size of a suitcase.

I smile to think of it—and I remember a wonderful illustration about heavy suitcases given by Corrie ten Boom during her speaking tours. After World War 2 she was a guest at a little church in Japan, which was still reeling from the war. She decided to conquer the language barrier with an object lesson about how to pray. She dragged her heavy travel suitcase up to the speaking platform. Quoting 1 Peter 5:7 (“Cast all your cares upon Him”), she emptied her suitcase, putting the items on a table. Some, she said, represented her weary co-workers. Another was her next trip to a town where she knew nobody. Then came friends at home, recovering from an auto accident; a little boy who refused to trust Christ; then her personal problems, like unconfessed sin, pride, and worry.  All these she wanted to “cast on the Lord.”  Then, she said, “amen,” closed the empty suitcase, and began to walk away, swinging the now-light suitcase.

The people got her point—about casting all such cares on the Lord.

Many years later, in Berlin, she ran into a Japanese evangelist who remembered her “trouble suitcase” speech in his homeland. She was flattered that he would mention it. But he said he had one problem with her illustration.  Speech over, she’d reloaded her suitcase with her personal items and left the church, just as burdened as before. * That wasn’t the message she intended! But it was a reminder how she (and the rest of us who know that promise in 1 Peter 5:7) kept putting worries and cares back in the “trouble suitcase” instead of freely releasing them to God.

I have the same problem as I pray. My real purse may get its periodic “purging” and tidying up (I sure don’t want to be guilty of carrying a head-bonker purse!). But from time to time the Lord needs to remind me (as He did when I came across Corrie ten Boom’s story) that when I cast my cares on Him, I’m not to keep stuffing them back in my worry suitcase/purse.

Worry bags aren’t part of God’s plan for the growing, trusting believer.

*This anecdote was told in Jesus Is Victor, © 1985, compiled in Corrie ten Boom: Her Story (New York: Inspiration Press, 1995), pp. 472-73.

 

AND A POST SCRIPT:

When a student at Wheaton Graduate School in my early thirties, I met a remarkable young woman whose background by that time already included living with author Elisabeth Elliot (as a seminary student helper), and ministry with a well-known international evangelism group. She'd eventually marry a widower with three children (and add a fourth) and juggle family, writing, and a busy inspirational speaking career. Her name is Lucinda Secrest McDowell, and I recently received a copy of her latest (and 15th) book, Life-Giving Choices (New Hope Publishers, $15.99). This book reflects her practice of choosing a value-oriented word as a spiritual stake for the year, and highlights 60 qualities or decisions. It's intended to be a 60-day devotional guide, but I couldn't put it down and read it in a few days. (I will go back and read with more thoughtful diligence!) I was reminded of Mark Twain's remark that the difference between the right word and the not-quite-right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug. This book is full of "right words" to ignite spiritual examination and spiritual intention. On my computer I have posted the word "inspire" as a reminder of a daily choice I need to make. This book certainly illustrates that quality. I commend it as a thoughtful, Biblical, personal, and applicable addition to your spiritual disciplines.

WORKS OF ART

This loom on display at an Amish bakery in Idaho fascinated me—not that I’d never seen a loom before, but that the “work in progress” prompted me to wonder what the weaver’s design would be. The “warp” are the threads that run lengthwise, and the “woof” run crosswise. The weaver decides what colors will run each way, and as the shuttle for the woof goes in and out of selected threads, a design emerges. But this part is important: the slamming tight of the crosswise threads to make a taut, strong fabric.

Weaving is hard, and noisy!  Like life, sometimes. We have a choice: to yield to the God-appointed hard “slams” to tighten the fibers of our being, or to ask Him to lay off, with the result of a weak and hardly-useful product. The writer of Hebrews wrote of the spiritual aspect of those “hard slams”:

God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness.  No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful.  Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:11)

Another “fiber art” illustration further emphasizes our need to trust God, even in the times that seem dark and confusing.  It’s one frequently used by the late Corrie ten Boom, survivor of the Holocaust, who spent the rest of her long life in weary travel and speaking, pointing people to Jesus. She would show the back side of an embroidery project, full of knots and stray threads, and not very pretty. But turned over, it revealed a glittery crown. She’d quote this poem:

“My life is but a weaving / Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors / He weaveth steadily.
Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow; / And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper/ And I the underside.
Not ’til the loom is silent/ And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas/ And reveal the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful/ In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver/ In the pattern He has planned.
He knows, He loves, He cares;/ Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those/ Who leave the choice to Him.”

I probably heard her quote that poem when I heard her speak in person in the mid-1970s in southern California. Friends urged me to arrive early at church to get a seat. I did, and was astonished by the crowds already waiting an hour early for the doors to open. I will never forget this simply-dressed older woman, her hair in an old-fashioned bun, speaking through her thick accent of atrocities she survived and the sustaining presence of God.

She would die a decade later on her 91^st birthday, her “weaving” (or embroidery) finished—to the glory of God.

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 119:113-176: Rescued and Renewed

Part of a continuing series on Psalms.
References to danger build in the last third of Psalm 119 as the author keeps returning to the stability and hope he finds in God’s Word. Saints of the previous century—their faith anchored in scripture amidst wars and disaster—seemed to be more attuned to these truths. One was Corrie ten Boom, who survived the atrocities of World War 2 to tell of God’s sustaining power in her family’s story, particularly as it is highlighted this verse in Psalm 119:
Thou art my hiding place and my shield: I hope in thy word. (119:114 KJV)
In her autobiography The Hiding Place, Corrie told of her family’s late-night arrest for hiding Jews from the Nazis. They were briefly detained in their hometown before being split up and shipped to prison and concentration camps. The last night they were together, a group gathered around her godly, elderly father for evening prayers. His Bible left behind at their store apartment, he reached into his memory to quote Psalm 119:114 (above) and 117: “Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe.” “Hiding place” comes from the Hebrew sitrâ, which means “cover,” rendered throughout the King James version by ten different English words. The NIV uses “refuge.” The point is that we have God’s covering or place of safety, even in trouble. That “covering” may not always translate to physical safety and freedom on earth, but God holds us up for safety and freedom in His presence.

This 15^th stanza of the psalm, built on the Hebrew letter “Samekh”(vv. 113-120), speaks of the conflict between evil men and those who trust in God’s Word. “I stand in awe of your law,” the psalmist says (v. 120). If only all of us would affirm that loudly and boldly! Some other nuggets from the remainder of Psalm 119:

16. Ayin (121-128): It is time for you to act, O LORD: your law is being broken (v. 126). I mark a star or date beside Bible verses that stand out for me during my reading time. This one has “11-15-12” and “our broken nation” beside it for news of election results. Another marks verse 125: “I am your servant; give me discernment that I may understand your statutes.” My marginal comment: “Help me be a teaching writer.”  The Hebrew word for “servant” appears fourteen times in psalm 119, three in just this stanza. More and more, as I age, I want to serve God through writing material that leads people closer to Jesus. That was one motivation behind this lengthy series on Psalms.

17. Pe (129-136): The entrance of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple (v. 130). A few hundred years later, this verse came to life as two people, walking to Emmaus, discussed the death and reported resurrection of Jesus. When someone they didn’t recognize joined them en route and heard their doubts, He said, “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” (Luke 24:25-26). Then, starting with Moses and going through the Prophets, Jesus explained how He fulfilled the scriptures.

18. Tsadhe (137-144): Righteous are you, O LORD, and your laws are right. This whole stanza deals with the idea of “righteous,” whose Hebrew word (tzedek) starts with the alphabet letter for this section. Some form of “righteous” is used four times. God’s Word is “righteous” because it reflects His character. Even amidst a world fouled by unrighteousness, the Word of God remains untainted as our standard and instructor.

19. Qoph (145-152): I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises (vv. 147-148). First century Christians in Thessalonica were probably wondering if things could get any worse, or maybe if the wickedness around them meant the Lord had already come again and they had missed out. The apostle Paul reminded them of the sequence and suddenness (“like a thief in the night”) of end times. As he wrapped up his letter, he gave them practical steps (helping, being thankful) for the “meantime.” Tucked in that list is a powerful two-word verse: “Pray continually” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). This was the psalmist’s mindset in the midst of his own troubling times. It should be ours, too.

 20. Resh (153-160): Your compassion is great, O Lord, renew my life according to your law (v.  156). God’s compassion sets Him apart from the false gods whose religious systems see them  as harsh or demanding. Other religions are “do, do, do,” and Christianity is “done”—at the cross. As 1 John 2:2 reminds us, “He [Christ] is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.”

Psalm 119 reminds us to take the
"upward look" to God's sufficiency
 through life's problems

21. Sin and Shin (161-168): Great peace have they who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble (v. 165). The epistle by Jude, Jesus’ half-brother, ends with a similar doxology: “To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without  fault and with great joy….” (Jude 24).

22. Taw (169-176): May my lips overflow with praise, for you teach me your decrees (v. 171). Psalm 119 ends with the writer’s deepest hopes for his faith walk. The word “may” occurs five times, asking that his cry, supplication, praising lips, and singing tongue be heard by God. Finally, he asks, “May your hand be ready to help me” (v. 173). He’s saying that he’s helpless on his own—indeed like a dumb sheep that’s prone to stray (v. 176).  In a concluding verse that looks forward to the Good Shepherd, who leaves the ninety and nine to seek the lost sheep (John 10), the psalmist says, “I have strayed like a lost sheep. Seek your servant, for I have not forgotten your commandments.” Thus it comes full-circle from the beginning statement that those who “walk according to the law of the Lord” are blessed (119:1).

How can we possibly respond to all that Psalm 119 teaches?  Perhaps as Paul did in the doxology tucked into his letter to the Romans:

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!

How unsearchable his judgments and his paths beyond tracing out! (Romans 11:33)

Next: Psalm 121

 

Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 32: Hidden Places

God's "good" hiding places include the winter soil for
flower bulbs. These are daffodils, ready for spring.

Part of an ongoing series on selected psalms.
“The Hiding Place,” Corrie ten Boom’s World War 2 account of hiding Jews and punishment in a notorious concentration camp, gripped me when published in the early 1970s. I knew “hiding place” referred to the secret compartment built into her bedroom to protect refugee Jews. I also knew the phrase carried a double meaning from Psalms, for God’s protection.

When “The Hiding Place” was released, I was in my twenties and reading the Psalms with fresh spiritual eyes. When I came across the “hiding place” phrase in Psalm 32:7, I marked it: “Thou art a hiding place for me; thou preserveth me from trouble; thou dost encompass me with deliverance” (32:7). Later, re-reading Corrie’s book, I realized it quoted another “hiding place” passage right after Corrie’s family was arrested and detained at the local police station. The night before her family was split up to go to different prisons, a group had gathered around Corrie’s aged father for evening prayers. She recalled: “His blue eyes seemed to be seeing beyond the locked crowded room, beyond Haarlem, beyond earth itself, as he quoted from memory: ‘Thou art my hiding place and my shield: I hope in thy word….Hold thou me up, and I shall be safe…’” (The Hiding Place, Chosen Books, 1971, p. 126).

Corrie’s father had quoted from Psalm 119 (starting at verse 114), but both that verse and Psalm 32:7 used the same Hebrew word (sether) for “hiding place.”  In both places, “hiding place” is a metaphor for God’s loving presence, even when we face unspeakably difficult circumstances.

 

TWO ‘HIDDEN’ THINGS

 Psalm 32 deals with two types of “hidden” things. One is hidden sins. Psalm 51 tells how David confessed his hidden sins of adultery and conspiracy to murder. Psalm 32 also refers to that incident, but was written later, probably to warn and teach others about falling into hidden sin. Psalm 32 reveals how hiding sin damaged David’s health. He describes his bones wasting away, groaning all through the day, a sense of heaviness, and sapped strength. The second “hidden” subject, after confession of sin, is God’s love and protection, described as our “hiding place.”  The psalm also speaks of spiritual teachings that are hidden from the hard hearts of the unsaved.

HIDDEN AND HIDEOUS

Both Psalms 1 and 32 open with the word “blessed.” The Amplified version, trying to catch the energy of the original Hebrew (‘esher), translates this “happy, fortunate, to be envied.” Psalm 1’s “blessed” person completely followed God. Psalm 32’s “blessed” person realizes he has fallen from God’s perfect path, but knows the blessing of forgiveness after confession. Hebrew poetry is characterized by parallel thoughts, and Psalm 32 begins with an excellent example as David seems to rake the Hebrew language for synonyms for the hideousness of sin.
            *Transgression (v. 1), from the Hebrew peshah, a “going away,” “departure,” or “rebellion” against God.
            *Sin (v. 1), from the Hebrew chattath, a falling-short of a mark, like an archer failing to hit his target. In this case, sin is “falling short” of God’s law.
            *Iniquity (v. 2), from Hebrew hawon, something corrupted, twisted, crooked—which we become in twisting away from God to sinful choices.
            Next, the psalmist gives three divine responses to sin.
            *Forgiven—literally, to have our sin burden lifted off, like Pilgrim losing his burden at the cross in John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.”
            *Covered—a term picturing the Old Testament sacrificial system. A priest would carry blood from a sacrificed animal and sprinkle the “mercy seat” or cover of the ark, which contained the law the people had broken. The blood symbolized shielding the sinner from God’s judgment. Christ’s death fulfilled that ritual, once and for all.
            *Not counted against him—like a divine bookkeeping term.  God takes the sins recorded in our life’s ledger book, removes them and put them in Christ’s ledger book. He died for them, and His righteousness was credited to our ledger. In Romans 4, the apostle Paul quoted these verses and went to great lengths to explain “justification by faith.”

GOD’S HIDING PLACE

The word selah, which denotes a musical pause to “think about this,” separates each section of this psalm. First David defined sin and revealed how it wrecked his health. Selah, he wrote, as though urging people not to go down similar paths. Then David recounts his confession and the relief of getting what was dark and hidden out in the open. “You forgave the guilt of my sin,” he said, followed by selah (v. 5).

Next comes an admonition to keep accounts clear with God and not wait for the fearsome floods of chastening (“when the mighty waters rise,” v. 6). Earlier, he was hiding from God.  Now forgiven, he hides in God, his “hiding place.” David knew well how God led him to “hiding places” in the rocky wastelands during the dozen years he hid from Saul’s murderous campaigns. That was worth a big selah.

NOT-SO-HIDDEN COUNSEL

The psalm ends with Proverbs-like counsel. Verse 8 spoke to me during a scary time of change when I was a young adult. I’d decided to leave my newspaper reporter’s job with its steady paycheck for “mission service” a thousand miles away, and “support” for income. To help me decide, I’d flown to the mission headquarters to talk with people there. I had thought much about Psalm 32:8, now marked in red in my Bible: “I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” On the flight back, as I looked out on clouds and land, I had an inexplicable sense of God guiding me with His all-seeing wisdom.

The next verse was my challenge: to not be like a mule that had to be pulled into submission.  Lyrics of an old hymn kept coming to me: “Have thine own way, Lord…I am waiting, yielded and still.” How well these summarize the message of Psalm 32. When we quit hiding from God, we can rest in God’s hiding place. There is no better place to be.  And though it’s not written in David’s text, this is another place where a selah would be very appropriate!

 

Next time: Psalm 34

 

Lethal roots

I couldn’t believe how much root was attached to the morning glory weed I pulled from loose soil between some rose bushes. About two feet of root came up before it snapped off! As I dumped it into my weed bucket, I wondered if the writer of Hebrews had morning glory in mind when he wrote: “Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many” (Heb. 12:14-15).

I once wondered why the verse said “a bitter root grows up” instead of a “bitter plant grows up.” Then I realized that the origins are in the root¸ and when it’s full of bitterness, so will be the result that shows. Bitterness is clearly forbidden for those who follow Christ: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (Eph. 4:31). Bitterness and its ugly cousins put the big Me, not God, in control:

“ME” was hurt by what my (fill in the blank--maybe spouse, brother, sister, parent, friend, boss, coworker) did to ME.

“ME” didn’t get what I thought God deserved to give “ME.”

“ME” lost something important to “ME.”

Brooding over what one considers unfair treatment can lead to three natural reactions, according to Dr. Charles Swindoll, writing in Hope Again (Word, 1996). One is an aggressive blaming of others that can that grow into revenge and rage. In that process, he wrote, it “nurtures a deep root of bitterness that tenaciously wraps around our hearts” (p. 83). The second reaction is a passive “I feel sorry for myself,” resulting in withdrawal and depression. Third is a “holding pattern” when we postpone or deny our feelings, even though those suppressed feelings will eat at us like an acid (p. 85).

Such negative feelings have been linked to significant health problems. One powerful example concerned a forty-something woman who experienced chronic stomach disorders and arthritis. She asked a pastor to pray for her, and in the midst of praying he sensed the Holy Spirit telling him she had a problem with unforgiveness, especially toward her sister. When he inquired about her relationship with her sister, she stiffened up and told of being unable to forgive her sister for a long-ago offense.

Drawing from Psalm 32:3, where David connected health issues to keeping silent about his sin (“my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long”), the pastor suggested her health problems could be related to her bitterness. When she relented and asked for advice, he counseled her to write her sister a letter of forgiveness, asking to renew their relationship. She did so, but delayed mailing it. In the meantime she became so ill she thought she might die. She dragged herself to her car and drove to a mailbox. “The moment she dropped off the letter she experienced some relief, and complete physical relief came when she arrived home.”(1)

One story of forgiveness I've never forgotten concerns Corrie ten Boom, survivor of Nazi atrocities, who spoke widely after the war. One time after her presentation she was greeted by a former prison camp guard she recognized as being especially cruel to her and her late sister. When this man said he’d become a Christian and extended his hand to Corrie, at first she resisted. Bitterness almost paralyzed her. Finally, appealing to the Holy Spirit, she let go of that old bitterness and found the strength to extend her hand in forgiveness and greeting.

Because it’s so much like a pesky morning glory vine, which travels on and on through the darkness of the soil, bitterness takes radical effort to root out. Yet God truly cares about our “spiritual weed control.” Trust me, I’ve had to get down on my knees for spiritual weeds, too, but the anguish was worth if for the freedom I felt later.

(1) From John Wimber, Power Healing (Harper & Row, 1987), retold in Klaus Issler, Living Into the Life of Jesus (IVP, 2012), p. 59.

Bed-making as a sacred act

As I made my bed this morning, I thought how this has been an unquestioned habit all my life. I also consider it a sacred discipline. It’s acknowledging and appreciating God’s gifts of a bed, blankets to keep me warm, and a room to sleep in. It’s remembering how “He grants sleep to those He loves” (Psalm 127:2), and then, as I awaken, how He also offers the new day to live out my love for Him.


Even at my lowest time financially--when I slept borrowed mattress on the floor of someone’s bedroom, a cardboard box for my “night stand”—I thanked God for a bed. I never went through the nightmare recently endured by family friends. Short on cash, they decided to buy some bunk beds at a yard sale. They didn’t know the mattresses had bed buds. The infestation eventually cost them $4,000 in cleanup.

Making my bed daily also recognizes that He is a God of order. It’s a marker for caring for my possessions and seeing them as gifts from God. How many millions sleep in despairing conditions?

In recounting her imprisonment and persecution under the Nazis, Corrie ten Boom also reminded us of the blessing of having a bed. From her book The Hiding Place, and the film based on it, we have chilling descriptions of not having what many of us take for granted. After her arrest, Nazis detained her in a dirty local prison. Then she, her sister and hundreds of others were crammed into filthy trains and transported to the feared Ravensbruck concentration camp.

They were first herded into an open-sided canopy with a straw floor full of lice. Then they went to Barracks 8, five women to a bed, where they heard the constant screams of women being punished in an adjacent building. Finally came Barracks 28, where 1,400 women were crammed into space intended for 400. They slept on square piers stacked three high, their foul straw mats full of fleas.

Upon her miraculous release (a clerk’s error), she traveled three grueling days by train home to Holland, a shadow of herself. Checking into a Christian hospital, she savored a warm bath. Nurses gently dressed her in clean clothing. Taken to a bedroom, Corrie delighted in its colors. “And the bed!” she wrote in her book Tramp for the Lord. “Delightfully soft and clean with thick woolen blankets.”

The simple, personal discipline of bed-making can go along with saying, “I’m checking into this new day, Lord. It is fresh and new, a gift from you. Yesterday, there were attitudes and actions that were messy and sinful. I am sorry for them and ask forgiveness. I ask for a fresh start. I thank you for my abundant blessings, including a bed to sleep in. I pull up the sheets and bedspread in acknowledgement of who You are, and Your interest in every part of my life today.”

Some people say it takes too long to make one’s bed. I timed myself this morning: 67 seconds. And as I made it, I found myself thinking of a good-morning song I learned years ago: “Good-morning, Lord, this is your day. I am your child, show me your way.”