EQUIPPED

Somebody, somewhere, had this great idea of a pink-handled tool kit for women who will never aspire to be “Tim the Tool-man.” (Maybe “Tina the Tool-woman”?) Yes, the basics of hammer, pliers, screwdrivers, and such for those pesky little problems that crop up in running a household. I can't recall who my “girl-tool-kit” came from, but it's stored in a “handy place”...and from time to time has been “quite handy.”

First, a disclaimer. One's gender does not predispose certain real-world “tool-handiness.” There are women out there who excel with hammer, saw and all the rest. Some of us, though, have the “beginner set”--and I thought about my beginner tools when I thought through some Biblical passages about being “equipped for good works.” Like this one at the end of the letter to the Hebrews, offering a benediction that the “God of peace” bless these believers, “equipping you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ” (Hebrews 20:21). It's not a quality you can buy at a store, but it's what is stored up in our character through a growing faith.

These passages came to mind as I thought of essential “spiritual tools”:

Scripture's saw: Able to cut through character defects and excesses for the right “fit”: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16-17).

Tried-and-true instructions: Not a paper of 1-2-3 instructions and diagrams, but the tried (literally “tried” for Paul, before Roman government high-honcho Pilate) and true (Son of God) “Shepherd of God's sheep” who is able to “equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may...work in us what is pleasing to him” (Hebrews 13:21).

Skill-matched tasks: Some of the faith community will be tapped as leaders, others to serve in less public roles—all making up the body of Christ so all can “become mature attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:11-13). Whether judges or janitors, each has a vital role that lifts the “ordinary” to “God-ordained.”

Perseverance: The apostle Paul knew how tough ministry could be. He sat in many jails, endured harassment, and survived life-threatening stoning. He experienced the world's “pounding” of ridicule, shame, prison, shipwreck—and eventually a death sentence. Yet he affirmed, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Now, if you'll excuse me, I remember a screw coming loose on a door hinge....

WATER TORTURE

Two of my swimmer essentials in college.....

For whatever reasons (maybe that I was a sickly child), I bypassed the usual early-life-skill rung of “learning to swim.” I chose my college for its good music program (I played violin), not for its general education requirements, which included a brutal three-quarter, seven-credits-each curriculum in world history, literature, and culture. I also hadn't anticipated its insistence on three physical education classes before you could walk across the stage and get your diploma. One of the p.e. classes involved the college pool, and what class you took depended on the results of a swimming test.

Therein floated my problem. I had never learned to swim. (Yes, I know, that sounds odd.) Perhaps being a puny child (I purportedly had rheumatic fever and heart damage), physical exertion wasn't emphasized in my lifestyle. I was, in fact, because of this medical concern, excused from the “participation” part of high school gym classes, though I still had to dress “down” into the funky red shorts/white snap-close shirts required as p.e. attire, and watch the others run and jump. Oh yes, also swish through the showers at the end of class for “shower credit” toward my grade. Okay, this was a long time ago.

Then came college, which wasn't as lenient at that time toward folks who had so-called invisible disabilities. Graduation required three p.e. credits. Two that I took were low impact: “movement fundamentals” (basically slow, isometric exercises) and “beginning folk dancing.” The girl-to-boy ratio of the second class was understandably off-balance as the guys who opted for folk-dancing were—well, I'll let you figure it out. But a swimming class was mandatory, and when the tester realized I was telling the truth about being a non-swimmer, she graciously qualified me for beginning swimming.

Thankfully, the shallow part of the pool only came to my armpits, but by the end of the 10-week term I would have to pass a test that included jumping from the lower diving board into the deep end, coming up alive (well, that part wasn't specified in the rules), and then swimming several laps of the pool, one of which had to be entirely the crawl stroke. I decided I was facing “Mission Impossible.” Thus, at nighttime “free swims,” I was there in the tepid water for practice, trying to strengthen my skinny limbs for the inevitable “final.”

The scariest part for me was diving. Recently, watching the summer Olympics and divers who jumped, flipped and twisted at warp speed into the water, I recalled my own carefully aimed hands-first pose at the deep wet monster. No twists or tricks. Just “down.” And when I jumped in for my “final,” and my hands hit the bottom of the pool, I feared I'd run out of air before I returned to civilization. Whew, I surfaced, and then began my required “laps,” wondering if I'd be able to finish. Well, it was finals week, and those late nights of studying were taking their toll.

To dive (pun intended) to the end of the story, I passed. Without passing out. And with the help of one part of my story I haven't yet shared: prayer! I'm glad I learned to swim, but learning so was hard and fast. I was no mermaid, just a skinny late-teen who faced her fears (with the Lord!) and came out the other side (or maybe I should say, “surfaced”) with success (more or less).

Whether or not we'll admit to it, we all have fears, some afflicted more than others. And we have plenty of company in history, as well as “overcomers” who cheered us on with their own lessons. Like Paul, who said, “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). Remember, the apostle Paul swam, too, in a storm, after a shipwreck. Makes my diving board fears seem pretty puny.

 

PUSH-POWER

My son and family were over to help me with some yard work, and the oldest grandson gave mowing a try. Let's just say he needs to grow a bit and develop those leg and arm muscles. But he gave it his best effort! I snapped this photo because the incident reminded me of one of my go-to verses when I feel overwhelmed: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)

I know of folks who twist that verse into claiming God's empowerment for unworthy, self-serving, and even God-dishonoring goals. But when this verse planted itself in my heart, I took it within the context of Paul's “writing office”--a Roman prison. He didn't write, “Hey, loving the vacation! Beautiful view, incredible food, sparkling swim pool.” Far from it. He was in unwanted, unsought, primitive circumstances. But he was making the best of it. And this letter, centuries later, would be known as the “epistle of joy.”

Ironically, a lot of negatives framed this particular letter to the church at Philippi. Paul would rather be traveling and preaching than sitting in a Roman prison. He felt a special bond to this church, a Roman colony in current-day Northern Greece (then known as Macedonia). He sought to remind them of his own life lessons: to expect to suffer for Christ. To be humble. To pray. To let God stretch and grow their faith. To overcome opposition inside and outside the church.

Perhaps it's the undergirding message of “persevere” that made this book of the Bible so special to me in my young adult years. I'd gone through a lot of challenges and turmoil in my twenties. I won't bore you, but there were a lot of disappointments and humbling experiences. Times I felt like asking God, “Did I make the right decision? Am I pushing faith too hard? Is this goal really bigger than I can really handle?”

So, like my grandson straining against a too-heavy lawn mower, I was wondering if I wasn't big enough or smart enough for tasks I'd envisioned as my life work. Once God had shrunk me down to size, my song changed from “I can do all things—I'm smart and clever” to the more realistic “I can do this through God who strengthens me, because I sure can't do it on my own.”

God doesn't excuse us from making big goals, as long as He's part of the process. The end result may be something we never anticipated. Like little-kid-big-mower, I needed to grow strong in some areas before God could entrust me with bigger things in His plan for my life.

So yes, my grandson's dad (my son) took over the mower and finished the lawn. Give us a few years and that grandson will grow like Kansas corn in the summertime. His limbs will muscle out. His voice go down a few pitches, and that bare little chinny-chin-chin will sprout hairs.

Isn't that a picture of us as growing Christians (puberty's progress aside)? God has His best plan, His best time, and His best purpose—to grow us up as Paul wrote the Philippian church: “That he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6).

ONE BULB AT A TIME

I spent most of my growing-up years in Washington's Puyallup Valley, which for decades has celebrated spring with a “Daffodil Festival,” complete with royalty, a parade, and many other events. Now I live about 150 miles away, but I acknowledged my “valley roots” by planting a few daffodil bulbs at my home. However, my “patch” was a pittance—especially after I learned of “The Daffodil Garden” near Julian, a town in the mountains above San Diego. And that garden was originally no commercial venture. It was the love-labor of one woman, planting one bulb at a time, until the region exploded in the hues of yellow, orange and white of some 80,000 daffodils.

She began in 1958 by planting a couple dozen bulbs around her A-frame home, its shady trees and garden. The collection grew over the next half century, one bulb at a time, until plethhora of blooms became a local tourist attraction that survived her death. The plantings even survived the devastating 2021 month-long “Willow Fire” which scorched nearly 2,900 acres—because the bulbs were resting after their bloom cycle underground.

Did you catch that phrase, one bulb at a time? Her quiet dedication inspired a book with the bigger life principle of starting and steadfastly pursuing a big goal. Like planting bulbs, life goals happen one action at time. This link takes you to a narration of the book:

The Daffodil Principle (abundance-and-happiness.com)

So what? Well, so what of your goals? Maybe an educational or health goal. Or cleaning up your room or home or yard. Or garage! Or tackling a new skill. Nosy question: do you have goals?

I don't know about you, but I faced goals I thought impossible to achieve. Some were financial, others educational and relational. Transforming a goal to reality took tools requiring courage to start and sustain. When I talked to God about them, I was taken back to the advice shared by one of his most energetic, sold-out followers, Paul. He had many strikes against him: health, enemies, folks who didn't really care about the “Jesus story.” Not to mention financial (but he wasn't too important to sew tents for food and housing). He shared his secret: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Not quite the “Daffodil Principle.” But similar. There's no reaping without sowing. No daffodils without bulbs. No spiritual fruit by avoiding what God calls us to do.

Challenge question: Are you planting bulbs to bloom where God has planted you?

Be inspired by this montage of daffodil photos:

"the daffodil garden" in julian, california - Search Images (bing.com)

AUTOGRAPHED

I'm not an autograph-collector, but when I heard that Edith Schaeffer was to speak at my Bible college's weekly assembly, I grabbed my copy of her book Hidden Art and took a seat in the front row. What a privilege to see and hear a woman who with her husband, Francis, carved an indelible place in groundbreaking Christian apologetics. She also brought dignity to the simple arts: of personal pleasure in music, art, gardening, hospitality and homemaking. As the assembly ended, with unusual boldness on my part, I hurried up on the stage with my copy of her book, the cover open and pen in hand. She knew what that meant, smiled, and signed it. That was it. I faded away as others came behind me.

This was the late 1970s when the apologetics ministry of their Swiss compound L'Abri was becoming internationally known. Francis rose to worldwide prominence as a defender of the faith against existentialism and liberal theology. L'Abri welcomed spiritual seekers who jammed the alpine site. Her visit to my campus in 1977 was a big deal. Francis would die of cancer in 1984; Edith would live to 98, dying in 2013. This was one of her twenty books.

Whenever I open that book and see her handwriting, I'm reminded of something else: that we represent the handwriting of God on this planet. Yes, “handwriting” is a metaphor, but it's found in the Bible, as in Isaiah 49. There, through the prophet, God says He will never forget his people, any more than a loving mother forget the baby she nurses. It goes on:

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.(v. 16)

These days, people short on paper might ink a reminder on the hands, to be washed out later. But here the Hebrew word describes cutting--something more permanent. God has permanently autographed His hand with my name.

To look at it another way, most authors are glad to sign books they have written. I had the privilege of having several Christian living books published about patience, encouragement, and trusting God in life's hard places. When I spoke somewhere, I took books along—as most speakers do—and people asked me to sign them, usually with a “to” somebody before my name. I was glad to do so, identifying myself with the message.

Here's the bigger truth: each of us begins as a blank book. Our thoughts and actions –good and bad--fill their pages. The book that Edith Schaeffer autographed celebrated God's amazing works in the ordinary processes of life. She explored creativity and creation with robust thanksgiving to God. As I went through an emotionally and creative “lean” time in my life, I needed its encouragement for my own future with God.

As a new year opens, maybe that's the message many of us need. We're encouraged to put off the old past and embrace a new future: “Forgetting what is behind...straining toward what is ahead” in God's plan  (Phil. 4:13). We're given a blank book. What fills it up this year depends on each of us—and whose Name we choose to inscribe on its cover as the co-Author.

P.S. In researching “autographs,” I came across this site by a sports card collector. He featured sports personalities whose collector cards included a favorite Bible verse. What a way to witness!

Bible Verses on Autographs - TTM Autograph - Through The Mail Autograph Collecting

Think tank: "any praise"

The "flowers" of hydrangea are actually the "bracts" or stem ends. They
seem to explode with praise for their Creator!

A series on Philippians 4:8.
In her book Calm My Anxious Heart, Linda Dillow tells the story of a military wife whose romantic notions of living overseas were soon cloyed by the language barrier, loneliness, and everything strange about another culture. She was done, done, done—and ready to move home to Mama.  Then Mama faxed her just two lines:
Two women looked through prison bars;
One saw mud, the other saw stars. --(NavPress, 1998/2007, p. 29)
Through that little couplet, the wise Mama reminded her pouty daughter that we make choices about how to look at life, even when we feel imprisoned by our circumstances. The view out the window is either mud or stars…our choice.

I think that’s part of what Paul was getting at as he wound up his list about “things to think about” as antidotes to sinful anxiety and worry. When the “negs” nag on us, we can choose to turn from them and find things worthy of praise. 

The whole marvelous plan of salvation should be at the top of our lists of things “worthy of praise.”  We have a God who:

*will never leave us nor reject us.
*calls us His beloved.
*has a plan for our lives.
*helps, not hinders us.
*can transform disappointments to joy.

 “The older we get,” wrote Charles Stanley in How to Reach Your Full Potential For God (Nelson, 2009, p. 29), most of us can look back at our lives and see how God’s purposes have unfolded over time.  If you and I have chosen to obey and live in right relationship with Him, we can look back and say, ‘I have done things I never would have thought I was capable of doing or would do.  I have things that I have never thought I would have.  I have achieved things I never dreamed of achieving.'”

 

His comment made me think of Paul’s declaration, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  And where is that? In Philippians 4:13, just a few verses past his lengthy list of “think on these things.” For when we retune our minds to Christ’s thinking patterns, God has a slate on which to write amazing life stories.

Anything worthy of praise in your life?  Feel free to bless the rest of us with a comment in the reply section.

 

Next: final instructions.

Schlepping along

My tasks that day included weeding—something I really didn’t want to do. So I put on my don’t-be-seen-in-public “work duds” and began my close encounters with a long, fence-line flower bed. Soon, my bucket was brimming with weeds, so I pushed my tired body off the ground, and schlepped my way to the garbage bin. That’s your word for the day: schlep.  It’s from a Yiddish word meaning “to drag,” and in English it’s come to mean “to move slowly, with difficulty or unwillingly.”

For several hours I scooted alongside this notoriously weedy fence line to dig and pull invaders.  It doesn’t help that an empty, weedy lot is on the other side of the fence. By the time I’d dumped the last bucketful in the garbage, I collapsed in a heap by the couch (I was too filthy to sit on it) and downed a glass of water. 

I thought of other times I’d schlepped through life’s exhausting “stuff.” Facing homelessness and joblessness (and God’s amazing, just-in-time provision). The huge task of emptying homes of parents after their deaths. Seeking harmony in difficult relationships. Being a victim of injustice. Fulfilling a commitment beyond what I perceived as my limitations. Did I mention letting God do some “weeding” of bad stuff in my heart?

At such times I experienced the hope of “enabling grace.”

Like Paul described: “God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work” (2 Cor. 9:8). I tend to read that, “so that most of the time you’ll survive.”  But no—that stout word “all” reminds me God’s work is done in His strength.

Paul learned that principle in a wretched classroom, a filthy First Century prison. Yet even from its dirt, debris and discouragement, he proclaimed, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13). Instead of giving up, he gave it to Jesus.

Okay, I admit it.  When doing mindless tasks like weeding, I do a lot of thinking. As I seek to uproot (or at least slow down) the encroachment of various weeds whose names I don’t even know, I think of how God looks at this sin-choked world.

How grateful I am that He gives us this hope:  this isn’t how it will always be. Someday He will return and end all that is wicked and fallen, making it new again. As Isaiah saw it: “Instead of the thorn bush will grow the pine tree, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.  This will be for the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, which will not be destroyed” (Isaiah 55:13).

No more schlepping, either!

P.S. Warm and grateful greetings to readers around the world. The program that operates this blog tells me the countries (but not the individual addresses) that are accessing my blog. Most of you live in the U.S. but others (in order of frequency this past month) visited from Germany, Russia, United Kingdom, Brazil, Belarus, France, South Korea, Malaysia, Poland and Portugal. Knowing your diverse backgrounds (including those who might know some Yiddish, as per today's post!) reminds me that our Lord's messages are for all cultures. I am thankful when you share these blog posts with others, for my motivation is to honor Jesus and help us all in our journeys of faith.