ENOUGH

I can't recall when this beleagured bird bath became a part of our yard. Perhaps it was a freebie somewhere because it already had a notch missing from its hard-plastic basin. But there's still enough of a “bowl” to hold bread crumbs, and when I get to the hard heel of a loaf, I usually break it in there. Within minutes, birds—typically sparrows—are feasting and spreading the word. It's almost amusing to watch the landings and departures escalate and then fade as the supply is picked clean.

Jesus noticed that, too, bringing a lesson recorded in Matthew 6 (The “Sermon on the Mount”):

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

Although I've lived through lean times, when there wasn't much food on hand, I have never gone hungry. And in this season of “aging” and now being alone, I feel a kinship with the birds that swoop down for a few bread crumbs. It's not just about what's in my cupboards and refrigerator (I have plenty--and that includes the cookie jar with granola bars for growing grandboys), or what I pump into my car's gas tank. Or the wires going into my house for electricity, phone and internet, or the pipes that bring water and remove our sewage. I've always lived more simply, but do pause at times and thank the Lord for these conveniences.

More than that, I want more than enough of His love and assurance, of which He has an infinite supply. Paul reminded those who came to Christ through his ministry to make sure they were “givers” as well as “takers.” As someone living on “love offerings,” he never was sure of where his next meal would come from, or what Mediterranean culture where he preached would influence the menu!

I love how the book of Philippians ends with thanksgiving. Paul talks about contentment and generosity. Plus, how he learned that “our God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). Not the wants (not a perpetually-full bird feeder) but the needs. There's a huge difference—a divine difference—between those extremes.

PETTICOAT JUNCTION

I’d just finished sewing a little music-themed dress for my granddaughter (her mother teaches violin), but something seemed missing: a fluffy petticoat for its full skirt.  She’s turning 3, which is that “princess ballerina” age. On one recent visit, her parents put on a classical tape and helped her pull on a little girl’s play tutu. Oh, the imaginative moves she made in her “dance show” for grandparents.  In her mind, she was the prima ballerina in the tutu that looks like a mushroom. I could make her a fluffier one, I thought.  Then I thought I heard a whisper, “I will provide.”  The “I,” of course, is God, who knows I try to stretch every dollar.

Right away I thought of checking the sewing supplies area at a local large thrift store, one so overwhelmed by donations that finding things can be an adventure.  I went to its crafts corner where there was a huge tub of random scraps and larger pieces with a sign that said, “Don’t leave a mess.”  About six inches down into the bin I found about three yards of what was probably netting for a wedding veil. Yes, that will work, Lord, I said, finding myself smiling. The checkout clerk said, “How about fifty cents?”  I gladly put my two quarters (plus tax) on the counter, wondering how much it cost in the first place off the bolt in the fabric store. A couple days later, I’d stitched what would pass for a little girl’s tutu/petticoat.

When I get to heaven, I’ll have a lot of “how did you know, Lord?” questions for how He supplied not only our needs (over and over and over!) but our special, unique “wants.”  I’m grateful that the Bible includes stories of miracles of supply—like Jesus telling Peter to go fish to get the temple tax that the local authorities said they’d better pay.  Not land a fish, sell it, and use the money. But this:

Go to the lake and throw out your line.  Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours. (Matthew 17:27)

Philippians 4:19 has long been a special verse for me: “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.” Next to this in my Bible I wrote (probably a note from a long-ago sermon): “Jamestown went from 500 to 7 because they didn’t appropriate the riches of the land.” Yes, even thrift stores can hide the “riches of the land” as answers to our desires and needs.

Along the same line, here’s another gifting, sewn up the same day.  These three shirts for my grandsons (ages 2, almost 5 and 6) resulted from a large bag of unwanted fabric I was given.  When I went to cut them out, I realized that whoever pre-washed the fabric had included something dark in the load that stained portions of the fabric. But by cutting carefully, I was able to squeeze the three shirts out of it.

Is there a bigger lesson here? I think so. When God supplies my needs or even wants, He doesn’t always deliver in the way I anticipated. But every good and perfect gift—the little daily surprises as well as the incomprehensible truth that God loves and cares intimately for me--comes from Him (James 1:17).

The Worrier's Hymnal

You probably know, as I do, some chronic worriers. If they
 wrote a hymnbook, it might include songs like these:

THE GLOOM GOSPEL (sung to tune of “Rock of Ages”)

I’m a worrier, I think the worst,
I’m so anxious I could burst.
I dwell on the negatives,
All the awful life can give.
Yes, I know that it’s a sin,
But my worries always win.

EXPECTING THE WORST  (sung to tune of “God Will Take Care of You”)

Worry, worry, life is not fair,
I might be breathing polluted air.
Every new ache and pain gives me alarm.
Inflation might force me to move to a barn.

Chorus:

An-xi-ety is my way.
Anything bad might happen today.
Accidents, illness or robbed by a bum—
Worrying expects it to come.

Maybe you caught the irony, that the tunes to both bogus “hymns” are stalwart hymns of trust in God. “Rock of Ages,” begins the first, “cleft for me,/Let me hide myself in thee.” As for the second, there’s an interesting story about its composition in 1904 by a pastor’s wife, Civilla Martin. She was among the prolific hymn lyricists of her time, reportedly writing several hundred songs. Next to “His Eye is on the Sparrow,” this is her best known.

Civilla had some health issues, and one Sunday wasn’t well enough to accompany her pastor-husband to a preaching request several hours’ journey from their home.  He seriously considered cancelling it so he could stay home with her.  His young son persuaded him to go, saying, “Father, don’t you think that if God wants you to preach today, He will take care of Mother while you are away?” While he was away preaching, Civilla wrote the four stanzas that begin:

Be not dismayed whatever betide,/God will take care of you;
Beneath His wings of love abide,/God will take care of you.
Chorus: God will take care of you,/Through every day, o’er all the way;
He will take care of you,/God will take care of you.

 What specific Bible text inspired her isn’t known, though she may have been thinking of some verses in Philippians 4:

“Do not be anxious about anything” (4:6)
“My God will meet all your needs” (4:19)
Or, from 1 Peter 5:7: “Cast all your anxiety upon him because he cares for you.”

Civilla knew the best cure for worry: a steady dose of trust in the God who “will take care of you.”  By the way, her husband, also a musician, wrote the tune to it.