FROZEN ASSETS

'Twas a few frozen days before Christmas, and the local birds were desperate for a meal. Some apparently recalled that I toss treats into my empty bird bath. But it had rained, then temperatures dipped to freezing. The “bird bath” was now a huge frozen ice saucer with tidbits locked inside. The birds landed and flew away in disgust.

Fear not—I lifted out the “ice saucer” and replenished its treats. As the edible tidbits soon disappeared, I thought of how I have found wonderful “tidbits” to strengthen me. Not physically, but spiritually. They're Bible verses of comfort and instruction, providing insight and hope for spiritual growth and difficult times. Maybe some (memorized long ago) are “yours,” too.

When feeling weak and disappointed, to remember that when we are “weak,” He is strong. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

When things are scary and out of control, He never leaves: “Fear thou not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you.” (Isaiah 41:10)

When things you hoped for and dreamed about, don't happen, He feels our disappointment but has a going-forward plan: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18)

When we feel like giving up, or are making poor alternative “choices,” or when life turns sour, God doesn't “move on” to the next “counseling client.” He stays by us: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

This past year or so, a friend with life challenges similar to mine has started sharing –also on 3x5 cards--the “aha!” verses she is coming across in her spiritual life-journey. Every week or so, I'll find in the mail an envelope with her latest “great reminder” verse—one that often is extra-meaningful to me as well.

As these verses collect, I rubber-band them and keep them by my living room rocker (where I usually have my Bible-and-prayer time) for memory review. Unlike my local birds, I don't have to teeter on the edge of a birdbath and dip for a few soggy morsels of nourishment. From paper they go to mind, to heart—just where they belong.

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?

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

California quail - Wikipedia

SAFE IN THE ARMS

If kittens could talk, this one might have quite a tale (notice I wrote tale, not tail). This winter some relatives noticed a stray cat shivering at their back patio sliders. Taking her to a vet, they learned she not only had a tapeworm but was pregnant. Before long she gave birth to a half dozen kittens, one deceased. Another, already dead, came later. (Poor Mama Cat!) We finally met the Meow Tribe a few months later when they'd been weaned and potty-box-trained (more or less) and would soon be adopted out.

I hadn't been around kittens for years. They are light as a feather and bounce around like autumn leaves on a blustery day. But they also will sit still for some lovin'--as in this photo I got of one that my husband held. I like this photo because is says “protected” and “safe” to me. It also reminds me of scriptures that express God's attributes to us in human terms.

Isaiah 41:10 portrays God's promise to help us in the image of his strong hand:

I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 63:3, expressing God's desire for His people to have a fresh, holy, and God-honoring reputation:

You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of God.

In John 10:28-29, Jesus used the metaphor of God's hand to express eternal security for true believers:

I give them [His followers] eternal life and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand; My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand.

And of course, the Gospels give us the tender picture of Jesus welcoming children to His lap, laying His hands on them and blessing them (Mark 10:16).

Besides those scriptures, the tiny kitten in my husband's hands reminded me of a hymn of yesteryear with a poignant story behind it. The hymn is “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,”written in 1868 by Fanny Crosby, prolific hymn-lyric-writer who was blinded in infancy and lived to her 90s. One little-known fact of her life is that after she married another blind person (whom she met at her school for the blind), she became pregnant. But the child—reportedly a little girl—died shortly after birth. Fanny would carry that sorrow close to her heart for the rest of her life. But she also penned the words that would comfort untold numbers who needed to feel themselves wrapped in the arms of God:

Safe in the arms of Jesus, Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o'ershadowed, sweetly my soul shall rest.

Hark! 'tis the voice of angels, borne in a song to me,

Over the fields of glory, over the jasper sea.

The last verse ends:

Here let me wait with patience, wait till the night is o'er;

Wait till I see the morning break on the golden shore.

Sometime, somewhere, somehow, all our lives will be marked by times of difficult parting. Of letting go. Death, disappointments, lost opportunities, fading health—all enter this fragile place called “life.” But the end of the story will come, someday. We'll find ourselves gently spilled out of the rough earthly hands that cupped us, and led by a celestial hand as we walk wide-eyed into Heaven's royal banquet hall.

This YouTube chorus video with scenery and hymn text features Mrs Crosby's tender hymn:

Safe in the Arms of Jesus - Bing video

"MOW' THAN MEETS THE EYE

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

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

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

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

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

For I am with thee—hand to heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIRM FOUNDATION

(A monthly hymn story feature.)
The history of “big numbers” in English hymnody began with the brilliant Isaac Watts, who in his 74 years of life left a legacy of some some 750 hymns. But a few years after Watts' death, another little English boy was born, destined to continue a prolific legacy of hymns, or at least of published hymnals. His name was John Rippon, and after his youth in southwest England and university education, he ended up about 200 miles east, in London, as the 22-year-old pastor of a Baptist church. Unlike many pastors, who move around, Rippon stayed there for 63 years until his death at age 85, and the church became one of the largest congregations in the country. One of its later pastors would be the renowned preacher Charles Haddon Spurgeon.

Rippon, who also edited a Baptist magazine for twelve years, was known as the foremost authority on the hymns of Isaac Watts. He chose many for a hymnal for public worship, first published in 1787 and periodically revised. Eventually the hymnal, known as “Rippon's Selection” was reprinted 27 times with over 200,000 copies. Some of the hymns were his composition, but not all were identified by author. One of the most enduring of the hymns, “How Firm a Foundation,” had just an alphabet letter, “K,” for its credit. Many believe it was the work of his assistant, Robert Keene.

No one knows who wrote the hymn's melody, but it's believed to have been an American folk tune, probably from the South. Coming across the ocean, the hymn became well-known throughout the country. It was apparently a favorite of Andrew Jackson, president of the United States from 1829-1837. One time after Jackson retired to his famed home, The Hermitage, a local pastor was his guest. Jackson said, “There is a beautiful hymn of the subject of the exceeding great and precious promises of God to His people. It was a favorite hymn with my dear wife until the day of her death. It commences thus: 'How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord.' I wish you would sing it now.” The minister and his other visitors sang all seven stanzas for Jackson.

“How Firm a Foundation” was originally named “Scripture Promises,” with the words of 2 Peter 1:4 printed above the first stanza: “Exceeding great and precious promises” (KJV). Each stanza emphasized a different scriptural promise. Stanza 2 reinforces Isaiah 41:10: “Fear thou not, for I am with thee...I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” The hymn climaxes with the last verse's proclamation that echoes Deuteronomy 31:6 and Hebrews 13:5: “The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose....I'll never, no, never, no never forsake.”

Besides Andrew Jackson, the hymn was a favorite of Confederate leader Robert E. Lee, who wanted it sung at his funeral. President Theodore Roosevelt also considered it a favorite. And why not? It affirms we're loved by a God who says He will never, never forsake His children.

For listening, or singing-along, this video features vocals by Michael Card with inspiring artwork:

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=how+firm+a+foundation+youtube+with+lyrics&ru=%2fvideos%2fsearch%3fq%3dhow%2bfirm%2ba%2bfoundation%2byoutube%2bwith%2blyrics%26%26FORM%3dVDVVXX&view=detail&mid=EC417756DB364E6C10A0EC417756DB364E6C10A0&&FORM=VDRVRV

Center of attention

Thank you, family cat, for plopping inside a bike tire on the deck one day.  Nearby, an upside-down bike waited to have its flat repaired.  But the cat, who in its cat-way likes to be the center of attention (“brush me,” “feed me”) gave my heart a prod about times I’m tempted to play “Center of My Universe.”

 We understand when babies act like that. “Diaper me,” “feed me,” “play with me,” “accept my bad moods”—they’re too young and helpless to know life has different rules as you grow up. Maturity comes with stepping outside your preoccupation with your needs. Spiritual maturity comes with learning to think and act as Christ, our role model for servanthood. The One we call the King of Kings came not to be served, but to serve, including the ultimate serving: “to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

Dwelling within little circles of “self” leads to loneliness and self-pity, a problem that author J. Oswald Sanders calls “that dismal fungus.” He writes further in The Joy of Following Jesus (pp. 125-26): “If we persist in focusing our thoughts on ourselves, that will only serve to fuel the fires of loneliness.  If, instead, we turn our thoughts outward and begin caring for others, then our condition can be reversed, and we will be able to break out of the shell of our own desolation.”

            Among his other suggestions for those afflicted with loneliness:

            *God knows—believe it! (Isaiah 41:10, Heb. 13:4-5)

            * “If outward circumstances cannot be changed, inward attitudes can and should be adjusted.”

            * “Clear the ground spiritually.” Confess and forsake any contributing sin.

            * “Learn to live with some unsolved problems. Jesus told us to do this when He said, ‘You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand’ (John 13:7).”

What if you’re on the “outside” of someone’s sad circle? I think poet Edward Markham (1852-1940) had a memorable image in his poem, “Outwitted”:

He drew a circle that shut me out—

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But love and I had the wit to win.

We drew a circle and took him in.

 I easily substitute “Jesus” for the word “love.”  He alone is the true center of the universe, and draws the bigger circle to bring people in.  His “drawing instrument” was the cross, and His love is big enough for those “heretics,” “rebels,” and any who think their lives have no hope.

The Test of the Scary Black Notes

I read The Great Church Christmas Orchestra Recruitment Letter and said, “I can do this.” When the music arrived, I said, “Can I really do this?” To understand my reaction, you need to know that I play the violin “somewhat.” On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being a squawky beginner and 10 fairly proficient, I consider myself about a 2.7. The number usually suffers when I’m handed music parts that have notes so high I’m almost scratching my chin, or that include 32nd notes in seven flats played at warp speed. And that’s what happened. Admittedly, 95% of the music was at my skill level. But it was the 5% at the musical prodigy level that made me wonder if I even qualified for my preferred perch of last chair, second violin.

To be honest, that’s been my story ever since I picked up a violin in seventh grade. I despaired of sounding any better than a cat in heat. The other way to get better was to try and try—and keep practicing. By the time I was a high school senior, I sat as first chair of the high school orchestra. Then I toted my violin to college and discovered the bar for excellence was raised by students with years of private lessons behind them. Again, the only option was to keep trying and practicing. And I did get better. Then came non-music jobs, marriage, motherhood and a host of other commitments, and my violin took a long nap in its case. My skills went downhill.

But the other day as I practiced those jet-travel (high & fast)sections of the program music, I realized that’s a picture of how God “grows” us into the people of faith and trust that He planned for us to be. Whatever the means—be it a challenging job, stretching college course, or a difficult relationship—we have two choices. We can bail out, fearing failure, or push on, trusting God to get us through it and develop our character in the process.

Robert McGee addresses this in his book The Search for Significance. The thrust of the book is helping people identify negative outlooks and habits and replace them with a Biblically-based foundation of God’s view of them. One of the common false beliefs he discusses is this: “I am what I am; I cannot change. I am hopeless.” Such a perspective is typical of those who feel they’ll never be successful in life, who blame their failures on being undisciplined, who can’t trust God, who say “That’s just the way I am,” and who claim they just can’t overcome a particular sin.

Such negative attitudes crash right up against this truth--to borrow from the famed “Four Spiritual Laws,” that God loves us and has a wonderful plan for our lives, one connected to new life in Jesus Christ. Trusting Him is not mere "fire insurance" (to avoid hell), but a remodeling process. To bring the analogy back to music practice, moving forward with God’s program is a learning and re-training process. It’s loosening up unyielding thought patterns (and, with violin, my age-stiffened fingers).

I won’t claim to now play the pieces perfectly, but I’ll give it my best effort come performance time. I’ll remember God’s promise of help: “I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10). And I’m counting on His right hand helping my struggling left hand with all those busy notes! After all, the main purpose of this is to bring praise to Jesus, and His coming to earth as a baby to be our Savior.