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.

COMFORTING

Within a few days of my husband's death this summer, a close friend was at my door with some unusual tokens of comfort: a framed saying and a little glass vial. “These are on loan for a few months,” she said, knowing I was feeling overwhelmed by “too much stuff” in the aftermath of a loved one's death. But they revealed her compassion toward how I'd travel my grief journey.

One “loaner” was this framed saying about the Author of my life. As one who's written books, I understood the comparison. How I needed the reminder that this event was so big that I desperately needed to listen to the Author of life through His book, the Bible. The little ribboned corked glass container referred to an ancient Jewish custom of saving one's tears (in a vial) as proof of the depth of grief. The custom was even mentioned in a psalm:

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8

Of course, that custom is not part of my culture. But reading about grief and the need to weep reminded me that God sees my tears and it's okay to let them flow when needed. Death is a deep, life-changing loss.

One week at church I was sitting next to another recent widow. One of the worship songs hit both of us in the tender parts of our loss. She started wiping tears first and asked if I had a tissue. (I didn't—just a crumpled handkerchief that I passed over with a look of apology.) But her tears started mine coming. People behind and on the side of us, who know us, understood.

This same widow, upon my loss, started mailing or handing me 3x5 cards on which she had written encouraging scriptures or quotes. My communication strength is “written words,” so that was right up the road to my heart. I posted them on a clip under my computer screen. How often had I read the same scriptures? But now they revisited—via the hand of a caring friend—to comfort and renew again.

Know someone who's grieving? Send notes—even after the first few weeks of loss when the cards fill the mailbox. Keep them simple. Visit briefly. Share their tears. Be sensitive to any saying or token that will remind them of God's care . Like these. Or a Bible bookmark. If a “larger decor” item, clarify you're loaning it for a certain period of time so that they aren't burdened with later getting rid of it.

Embarrassed by my lack of clean tear-soakers that Sunday, I went to the dollar store and got some of those mini-packs of tissues. I'll give one to her, and show her (with a peek into the cave of my purse) that next time I will be prepared. Bring on those heart-tugging hymns and choruses. It's good when worship music reaches our hearts and leaks out through the tear glands. God understands. When loss hurts so bad, it's how He reaches His arms around us (sometimes through another “real” person) to let us know He cares. More than we can comprehend.

DOES JESUS CARE?

 A monthly feature on a hymn of the faith.

Do ministers ever get discouraged and depressed? Of course, they do. Even ones whose natural disposition tends to be on the sunny side. That was the reputation of Pastor Frank E. Graeff, who led a Methodist Episcopal Church in Philadelphia. In fact, he was dubbed the “Sunshine Minister” for his cheerful disposition. But the cheer wasn't always there.

Something happened that cast him into discouragement and depression. According to one historical account, he and his wife had a beautiful daughter. In those days—the late 1800s—the girls and women wore floor-length dresses with layers of lace or other frills. Homes at that time were usually heated by wood-burning stoves or fireplaces. His daughter got too close to one such fire and her clothing caught on fire. It happened so fast that nothing could be done, and she burned to death. The grief was more than Pastor Graeff could bear.

One day he meditated on 1 Peter 5:7--”Casting all your cares upon Him, for he cares for you.” He also found comfort in the hymn written 75 years earlier by another who'd known great sorrow, Joseph Scriven. That man, who immigrated to Canada from Ireland, had who lost two fiancees to death. Afterwards, Scriven spent his life in poverty serving his community's poor. Only one hymn survived of Scriven's spiritual journey, a poem he wrote to comfort his own mother across the Atlantic since he couldn't afford to visit her. We know it today as “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”--and it continues: “all our sins and griefs to bear, what a privilege to carry, everything to God in prayer.”

Besides songs like Scriven's, Pastor Graeff also found comfort in Bible passages like these:

First Peter 5:7: ”Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

Isaiah 55:4: “Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.”

2 Corinthians 1:3-5: “Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; who comforteth us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.”

His gloom eventually lifted as he took to heart the truth that God truly did care for him, even in his greatest heartache. From that experience he wrote the hymn, “Does Jesus care?” The first verse hints at the depth of his despondency:

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained

Too deeply for mirth and song;

As the burdens press and the cares distress

And the way grows weary and long.

After each of four questioning verses comes the chorus:

O yes, He cares, I know He cares,

His heart is touched with my grief;

When the days are weary,

The long nights dreary,

I know my Savior cares.

Pastor Graeff loved hymns and wrote thirty-six that were published, but this is the one still best known. It's comforted untold thousands since first publication in 1901. He would live another 18 years after its publication, dying in his 59^th year.

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In a similar vein, someone has suggested these steps to “casting” our cares and sorrows about the Lord. Using the acrostic CAST, it goes:

C—Commit the burden to Jesus. He cares more than you can realize.

A—Ask in prayer for the Lord's help.

S—Search scriptures for passages of encouragement

T—Trust Him for comfort and healing. He does care for you.

Sing along with Mark Lowry (of the Gaither Vocal Band) in this meaningful blend of two hymns, including Graeff's:

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=%22Does+Jesus+Care%22%2bMark+Lowry&view=detail&mid=EAE8C0ADF2021F1EE806EAE8C0ADF2021F1EE806&FORM=VIRE0&ru=%2fsearch%3fq%3d%2522Does%2bJesus%2bCare%2522%252bMark%2bLowry%26FORM%3dSSRE

Grasping at hope

I love looking at the tiny, trusting hands of my new grandson, James, now four months old.  These tiny, intricate hands curl around an adult finger with such faith and trust. Right now, his favorite game is “push-ups,” going from sitting in my lap to standing in it.  I know better than to trust just his grip to pull him up, so I hold his hand as he holds mine.

This tender imagery came to mind as I prepared last week’s blog review of Carol Kent’s new devotional book, He Holds My Hand.  In autographing it, she referenced Psalm 63:8, “I stay close to you; your right hand upholds me.”

The psalm’s inscription says David wrote it while in the desert of Judah, probably referring to the years he fled the murderous intentions of King Saul. He’s hungry, hunted, and hopeful.  He thinks of God day and night:

On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. (v. 6)

In recent months I’ve experienced those “night-watch” God times.  I value a good night of sleep, but frequently I wake up around 2 or 3 a.m. with a compulsion to pray for someone who has verbally bullied me. My greatest desire is to see this person become whole in Christ. In praying, I sometimes feel like a little child (or even a baby) putting my weak but trusting hand in God’s.  At such times, other “hand” scriptures bring me comfort, like this one in Isaiah 41:13:

For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, "Do not fear; I will help you.”

Or this, in Psalm 37:23:

The LORD delights in the ways of the man whose steps he has made firm; through he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.

At times in those middle-of-the-night prayers, my posture is uplifted hands, my way of releasing to God my frustration and deep concern for this person. That’s the way it should be. When I reach up, God is reaching down to me.  And that brings comfort and hope.

Home-made Hymnal

I was having what might be called an “emotionally-fragile day.” My daughter was somewhere over the Pacific Ocean en route to her life’s new chapter in China. Oh, I missed her already. I was also troubled by an insensitive E-mail I’d gotten from someone. But life had to go on, which included buying groceries the other side of the river that divides the town where I live.

Mindful that my emotions could make me a distracted driver, I was on high alert for traffic issues. Just before the river bridge, as I looked ahead to a certain crosswalk where people often barge across the street without caution, a tune suddenly flooded my mind. Then came snatches of words, “There is a river that never shall run dry.” God had sent the reminder of a spiritual river that flows from deep within, no matter my outward circumstances.

Back home, I searched the hymnals kept on the piano for this song, but couldn’t find it. Then I remembered another source: my home-made hymnal. Years ago, as my learning curve of hymns and Gospel songs steepened, I had started a simple Bible-size three-ring notebook with the lyrics to my favorites. There, in the “T” section, between “Take Time to Be Holy” and “’Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus,” was “There is a River.” I sang the lyrics, remembering how they tell the story of the Samaritan woman who met Jesus at the well. And I realized, once again, that God had brought out of a deep pocket of memory something I needed for the moment: a reminder of the vast supply of His water—His comfort, His love.

Do you have favorite hymns? Have you considered gathering them into your “personal hymnal”? It doesn’t need to be fancy. Mine are hand-written or cut out from song sheets and pasted onto a page. But they’re there, accessible on paper, when I can’t always pull them out of my memory.