Pouring chocolate

A series inspired by sights in Kauai.
Heavy rainfall had turned the usually white-frothed Wailua Falls, near the east coast of Kauai, into thrashing muddy flood.  Still, it was beautiful and worthy of its “must visit” rating as we chose what to see in Kauai.  Most sources say it falls 140 feet; some claim it’s 173 high, others, less than 100 feet.  Despite warnings of safety, some dare to swim in its pool.  In ancient days, Hawaiian men would jump from the top of the falls to prove their manhood.  Today’s that illegal because of the danger.

In contrast to the roar and volume of the Wailua Falls, I recalled my study a few years ago of the water-pouring ceremony associated with “Feast of Tabernacles” in ancient Jerusalem.  Priests would process to the city’s “Pool of Siloam,” a reservoir created in King Hezekiah’s time, holding water brought 1,780 feet through a conduit hewn from rock from a small spring outside the city.  One day Jesus watched the priests go through their ritual, then shocked everybody by saying with a loud voice, “If a man is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.  Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”  The “living water” to which He referred, would be the Holy Spirit, to be poured out in magnificence at Pentecost to help Christ-followers (who include us today) to live out their faith with refreshing power. An old hymn by Horatius Bonar (1808-1889), Scottish preacher and hymn-writer, has one stanza that speaks of this:

I heard the voice of Jesus say, ‘Behold, I freely give
The living water-- thirsty one, Stoop down and drink, and live.”
I came to Jesus, and I drank of that life-giving stream;
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, And now I live in Him.

This “living water” is what keeps us going when life sends us reeling with its muddy flows of destruction and disappointment.  In recent weeks, as I’ve prayed for troubled loved ones, another hymn has flowed through my heart like a life-giving, cleansing stream.  At times, just a few words of the chorus helped to settle my heart and trust God again:

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him, How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus! O for grace to trust Him more.

Hymn books name the lyric’s authors as Louisa Stead, who penned the entire verse in 1882. Born in England, she became a Christian at age nine and as a teenager felt the call to mission work. A revival meeting at Urbana, Ohio, confirmed that on her heart. But when she applied to go to China, the mission board felt her health was too fragile.  She married and had a little girl. But when her daughter was about four, her husband drowned trying to save someone.  Muddy waters!  But shortly after, she and her little girl sailed to mission work in South Africa! Widowed, alone, in a foreign culture—that’s when she wrote these lyrics. During her fifteen years there, she married again, but poor health meant a return to America where her second husband pastored a Methodist Church.  By 1900, her health restored, they returned to Africa, this time to Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) as missionaries!  She retired in 1911 (about age 61) and died six years later. 

Of her last work in Rhodesia, she wrote in her journal, “In connection with this whole mission there are glorious possibilities. One cannot in the face of peculiar difficulties help saying, ‘Who is sufficient for these things?’ But with simple confidence and trust we may and do say, ‘Our sufficiency is of God.’”

Louisa Stead could have allowed her faith to be drowned in the floods of disappointment and a spouse’s death. But she trusted in Jesus, and “proved Him o’er and o’er,” living in the power of His living water.

Chase away the clouds

A devotional series inspired by sights in Kauai
Storms hang over even paradise. Our four-day visit to beautiful Kauai in the Hawaiian islands came at the end of a series of tropical storms, treating us to gray skies, rain, and mud. One morning, my husband had to take off his shoes and wade through several inches of standing water to reach our rental car in the hotel parking lot.  These clouds lingered through the day.  As we explored nearby sights, I could have dwelled on the gray clouds. Instead, I marveled at the lush green vegetation that the clouds sustained. Back home in parched eastern Washington state, just months earlier, a scary summer of wildfires included one that torched a neighborhood just a mile away from ours.

The Kauai sky that day reminded me of the “Lit’l Abner comic strip,” which ran in newspapers across the nation during 1934-1977.  One of the minor characters, named “Joe Btfspik” (the comic artist “pronounced” it like a rude sound), wandered the story line with a perpetual rain cloud over his head.  The world’s worst jinx, everywhere he went, something bad happened.  It was an amusing caricature, but, sadly, I know people who live in a constant “cloud” of negatives. God stretches me in trying to help them look for the sun that’s trying to break through.  Some of their “weather reports” go like this:

 “The sun will never shine on me like it does others.” This “poor-me” outlook imagines that people reject them because they have some terrible flaw. The truth is that we’re all imperfect, but we’re people in progress as we draw nearer to the radiance of Christ, whom Malachi 4:2 called by the prophetic label, “the sun of righteousness.” One source of this distortion is popular culture, which uses media savvy as a measure of personal worth. Interestingly, a recent study by the University of Houston found a link between depression and Facebook-“lurking.” If virtual comparisons foster “nobody appreciates me” reactions, it’s time to quit the social media.

 “That thunderhead might produce a terrible storm that destroys my home!” Fear and exaggeration are not of God. Caution is. Near Kauai’s coastal areas, we noticed huge sirens ready to warn people of coming tsunamis.  But gloomy people always think the worst, revealing their fears that God won’t help them if it does happen. One published counselor suggested that such people may be reading about, listening to, or watching the news too much. All these media sources tend to emphasize the worst of any disaster. Reporters on live media (radio, TV) have a practiced, intense tone in their voices, adding to the sense of urgency. The counselor suggested: quit your news intake for a while until you can get your what-if’s under control.

“My life is just a big fog bank.  I’m hopeless and stuck.” Where I live, we can expect gray, foggy, frozen days in January and February.  It can be quite depressing unless we choose to find spots of cheer. Some simple things I do: wear colorful clothes, open the curtains, eat healthy, and connect with other people. Bringing order to the physical clutter where I live also helps.  But emotionally fog-bound people aren’t proactive in simple lifestyle things. They’re paralyzed by “I can’ts,” instead of asking God to help them overcome excuses. They’re so down on themselves that they may interpret a harried store clerk’s reaction as a snub on them.  Too much emotional analysis can lead to behavioral paralysis. Their “fog” may be a clue to a chemical imbalance in their bodies that needs medical treatment. But there’s also a spiritual aspect. David had this “future” perspective for his “fog” times, a phrase repeated several times in Psalms 42 and 43: “Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God!”

Hopeless, fictional rain-cloud Joe Btfspik didn’t enjoy what believers have for life’s storms: a God who promised: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isaiah 43:2, emphasis added). By the way, we did enjoy some blue skies before flying home across the ocean. As an old Gospel song puts it, “Sunshine after the rain.”

A magnificent menu

Part of a series inspired by experiences and sights in Kauai, the Hawaiian islands.
When my husband and I go to a restaurant to eat, we are quite the conservative connoisseurs.  An incurable coupon-clipper, I usually have that little slip of paper that gets us a cheaper meal. Or if it appears that the portions are generous, we’ll ask for an extra plate to split an entré. 

When our son and his wife “gifted” us with a trip to Kauai as thanks for more than a year of day-care for grandkids, they included a daily “breakfast buffet” which was beyond belief for “sumptuous.”  It became our main meal of the day, with conservative fast-food orders and fruit from the island’s “farmer’s market” supplying other meal needs.  One feature was a made-to-order omelet created by a man who knew exactly how to flip the cooking mixture to keep it fluffy and tender. I thought of the omelets I make at home, just a notch above edible Frisbees.  And the fruit table.  Oooo. Ahhhh. Tree-ripened mangoes, papayas and pineapple.  Ohhh, wonderful.  Not to mention other choices to satisfy every taste.

A few years ago I wrote a little book that compared Heaven to a literal home, using scriptural motifs to try to imagine just what is ahead for us. I was inspired to think about Heaven’s banquet hall by a prophetic passage in Revelation 19:9:

Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!
In imagining  the banquet hall that might await in Heaven, I recalled a religious poster popular a few decades ago, which showed an elegantly-set table at the seashore, reaching far into the sunset horizon.  Nobody was seated at it yet.  The plates and goblets were ready for whatever was ahead.

I thought  David’s Psalm 63, which includes a note that it was written “when he was in the desert of Judah.” That could apply to two times, either pre-reign as he tried to elude murderous King Saul, or during a later turmoil as king when his son Absalom was trying to steal the throne, and David escaped to the wilderness.  In both cases, there was no royal palace dining hall, only a primitive place outside to cook and eat.  Rather than gripe about his circumstances, David wrote:
I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. (Psalm 63:5)
Now eating the poorest of earthly foods, David focused on the blessings of God’s great love.

Fast-forward to the time of Isaiah. There were now two warring nations in the former Promised Land, both to fall to foreign enemies.   Still, the prophets appealed to the people to return to God.  Isaiah cast his spiritual invitation to return to God in the symbol of good food, offered without cost:

Why spend money on what is not bread and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. (Isaiah 55:20)

 David called it “the richest of foods”; Isaiah, the “richest of fare.”  Through the symbolism of food, they were identifying God with supplying in generous supply the very best to sustain His children.  The sweet fellowship we may enjoy through prayer, scripture, and like-minded Christian friends is but a tiny appetizer of what’s ahead. 

I know this: if I thought the buffet in Kauai was beyond wonderful, I have a lot more to look forward to in that realm we call Heaven.  What is now a mystery, in the presence of the God will surpass everything, satisfying us entirely as we praise Him face to face.

Invaders of the dark

They're quick and hard to see, but that bit of white by the rock is the "crab"

A continuing series inspired by sights of Kauai
Dusk was deepening to darkness as we sat on driftwood on a beach on the east side of Kauai.  As we watched the gentle dimming of the sky above the swishing ocean, we enjoyed the solitude of the surf’s rhythms. Then something almost otherworldly startled me—a ghostlike being barely bigger than a hand, scuttling across the sands in front of us. One, then three, then maybe a dozen danced before us.

Ghost crabs had slunk out of their hiding places for their nocturnal feedings. Swift runners, they can fold in an instance and slink into a tunnel whose opening is smaller than a dime for bigger crabs, or a pencil eraser for smaller ones. Later, reading about their habits, I learned that they can’t stay underground for long.  If a wave passes over the tunnel’s opening, they have to get out as soon as possible or they will drown.

The ghost crab is upper middle, just to the right of the V created
by a branch and piece of bark

Returning during the day to the same beach, we found baby ghost crabs learning their trade, remarkably agile for creatures no bigger than my “pinkie” fingernail. Instinct has taught them to hide.  In that respect, some people have a lot in common with ghost crabs. They physically or emotionally hide when they feel threatened by the world around them. They close themselves off from social activities, friendships, and even God’s calling to be His salt and light in the world. They’re happier hiding in their “holes.” Some allow media compulsions (TV, internet browsing, social media) to shrink their emotional world to an unhealthy state.

The Bible pictured a similar emotional state in the story of Elijah, just after he triumphed over the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. When wicked Queen Jezebel realized this attacked her authority, she threatened to kill Elijah, and off he ran to a desolate place to whine that he was done-done-done with life. God allowed Elijah to get some much-needed rest and nourishment. But He wouldn’t let the prophet cringe in the cave forever.  He dispatched Elijah to crown a new king (a scary, anti-establishment act) and his own eventual successor. In those days, there was no tele-commuting from the cave. He had to go out and do that personally. (See 1 Kings 19.) Later, he stomped into Jezebel’s and Ahab’s throne room to censure them for killing an innocent man to take over his property.  Heavy stuff!

It’s easy to play “hide.”  But I’m grateful for the “and seek” part of that phrase. Jesus said, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10). God wants to pull us out of our comfortable holes. He calls us to engage in the world with integrity in order to spread the Gospel. Ghost crabs were amusing to watch, but the real “invaders of the dark” have two feet and a compulsion to bring spiritual light to this dark world. 

Beauty and the thorn

Part of a continuing series inspired by sights of Kauai.
Ow! A tiny rose thorn had punched through my garden gloves and found a deep hiding place in my thumb. Digging with a sterilized sewing needle wouldn’t budge it, so I covered that area with a bandage and went on with life, trying to ignore the pain. How could such beautiful flowers emerge off such unfriendly stems?

 A similar thought came as I rediscovered bougainvillea growing throughout Kauai. The same flowering vine grew by the front porch of my childhood home in Los Angeles. I was warned to stay away from it because of the thorns. But the delicate, paper-like blooms were so fascinating!

Bougainvillea, which thrives in tropical climates, received its unusual name in 1768 when a botanist discovered it in Brazil. The scientist was aboard a ship commanded by Admiral Louis de Bougainvillea, and Brazil was one stop on the admiral’s quest to become the first Frenchman to circumnavigate the world. He did so, surviving sailing through the treacherous tips of South America and Africa. From its native South America, bougainvillea spread around the world, with 300 species now identified. Their colors range from white to apricot, pale to dark pink, and bright to bluish red.  The vine’s heart-shaped, paper-like three-leaf “blooms” are actually bracts, from which emerge the small white tubular flower.

Plus thorns.

Thorns, of course, have a powerful spiritual analogy for life. I’ve certainly wrestled with personal application of Paul’s perspective on “thorns.” He admitted having a frustrating condition that impaired him and simply wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he prayed about it.

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations [visions of heaven], there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10, emphasis added)

Years ago, amidst a time of many “throny” problems, I learned a simple chorus that often comes back to me as hope. Try singing this to the tune of “Blessed be the tie that binds,” then thank God for the flowers beyond your “thorn.”

As thy day so shall thy strength be.
My grace is sufficient for thee.
My power’s made perfect in thy human weakness,
My grace is sufficient for thee.

State your flower!

A continuing series inspired by sights of Kauai.
If you could choose one flower to represent your life, what would it be? I tend to think the blue and purple hydrangea are “me,” the colors suggesting loyalty and the pompom “flowers” (actually brachts) for the life-experiences that have rounded out who I am.  Earlier in life I would have been “Miss Shrinking Violet,” but God has a way of working on our weakest spots.  I know people who’d be called “Mrs. Sunflower” (for her cheerful personalities) or “Mr. Red-Rose” (for his strong loyalty despite a few thorns on the way to knowing him).

The flower officially representing the state of Hawaii is the yellow hibiscus, whose trumpet-like blooms pop out of landscaping just about everywhere you go. It seems to announce, “This is a beautiful place. Just come and explore!”

The saying, “Bloom where you are planted,” was quite popular during my early adult years. Flower-adorned plaques turned up in gift stores. It seemed like such an innocent, upbeat saying, and I had such a plaque myself.  But I think it doesn’t tell the whole story, which is better expressed in two big messages of Ephesians 2:8-10.  Verses 8-9 tell how to establish a spiritual connection with God:

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.
We can’t work our way into favor with God.  We can’t have a spiritual connection on our own accord, no more than a flower can bloom apart from a stem and root system.  The vital life-connection is His gift, by faith. We can’t earn it by good works.  However:

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. (v. 10)

The God who created us with known and latent abilities has a plan for each of our lives. Salvation is not only “done” (bought by Christ’s death), it’s also “do,” in the plan and power of God for extending His work on earth.  “Sit, soak and sour” Christians (attendance without commitment) are disobedient Christians.  We’re not to wither up, but to bloom where God plants us.

Oh, my, to think of where He sends us when we say “yes.” Hibiscus may favor certain climates, but the person sold out to God says, “Whenever you send me, I’ll go.”

 

So, what flower would best represent you now? And which might  you like to be?

Our Chicken Soup cat

Our 14-some-year-old cat, Augie, unwillingly posed for his author breakout photo with the newest Chicken Soup for the Soul volume, My Very Good, My Very Bad Cat.  He qualified for the second category (bad) about three or four years ago when he decided Christmas morning was a wickedly great time to escape his injury containment, despite having a recovery cone on his head after a vet trip for fight injuries. After three weeks of no cat, we decided his final hour had come, probably in some frozen shed. Then he returned home, repentant in his cat way.

My essay, one of 101 chosen for the book, is titled "The Prodigal Cat," and pokes fun at his ill-chosen decision.  But I think there's also a big lesson from it for our human tendency to choose to walk apart from God's best plan for our lives. Like the Prodigal Son lesson taught by Jesus, we tend to think we have it all figured out, and then find "our way" is the wrong way. The book offers the comforting balance that, besides cats who really earn the title "very bad cat," there are some amazingly good cats, too.  This is my sixth time to have an essay in a "Chicken Soup" compilation. The book officially releases Feb. 6.