ROLL WITH IT

If you came to our front door, you’d find a huge cardboard tube swathed in black plastic bags to keep it from disintegrating in the rain. Catch us on a sunny day with grandsons visiting, the protective bags off and the tube in the front yard, you’ll likely find the little guys crawling through it (enjoying its echo chamber), rolling inside it, one rolling/the other inside, straddling it—you name it. Who would guess that a construction form for a pillar (from a yard sale) could provide so much entertainment?

Okay, so their grandma is always thinking, and this time the phrase “roll with it” came to mind. The saying has several versions. In sports, we hear “roll with the punches” for how boxers shift their stance to avoid incoming strikes. Todd Beamer’s last known words on a soon-doomed airplane on Sept. 11, 2001, were “Let’s roll,” calling any to help him storm the cockpit which hijackers had commandeered.  But I’m going for the generic meaning of “roll with it,” which means to adapt to unexpected hardships.

Wow, could that also be a Biblical concept? I think of a verse I’ve often recalled as I faced a difficult or potentially impossible situation: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).  This, alas, is a verse that some folks twist and distort to their expectations. It’s not claim to super powers or a guarantee that they’ll rise about the world’s common woes. Its context was Paul’s note of appreciation to this particular early church, which took up an offering for his “keep” while chained up in a prison in a foreign country. In his early life (particularly “before Christ”), Paul presumably had a comfortable living. That all changed when the Christ he once despised became the Christ he loved and served with all his being. Even in putrid First Century jails.

In other words, Paul looked around at his impossibilities and still said, “Let’s roll.”  Let’s still witness for Christ and let Him show us “the secret of being content in any and every situation,” comfortable, primitive or even what the world would call miserable (Philippians 4:12).

My grandsons enjoyed their short dizzy rides in the tube. They laughed over the echoes of their voices. This cheap little toy was a happy place for them.

But sometimes life is a tube with both ends closed off. It’s dark, the air is suffocating, and we don’t know how to get out. But God knows, and His “exit strategy” may surprise us and build our faith. I think Paul pointed to that as he composed the “close” to his letter to the Philippians. He thanked them again for their sacrificial “support” gift, reminding them that God was equally able to meet their needs:

And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. (4:19)

Roll with life’s dizzy, bumpy, unknown journeys? Absolutely, if you know who’s in charge of things “on top”—the One Paul described in closing as “the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 23).

 

GRIPPED

I'm guessing that—if you are human and breathe—you've had times you felt a vise twisting you tighter and tighter. That pressure may have come from job problems, people conflicts, health issues, or unexpected negative events that left you feeling “pressed in” with little hope of relief. At such times in my life, Psalm 34 is among scriptures that helped me quit looking around at my circumstances, and instead up to God:

This poor man called and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. (Psalm 34:6)

The next verse was always a reminder that God's help isn't always visible:

The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.

Further on in this psalm, we're told:

*God sees: “The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous” (v. 15)

*God hears: “And His ears are attentive to their cry” (v.15b); “The righteous cry out and the Lord hears them” (v. 17).

*God advocates: “The face of the Lord is against those who do evil” (v. 16)

*God takes appropriate action: He delivers them (v. 17), comes close (v. 18) and “saves those who are crushed in spirit” (v. 18).

 This is a psalm with a “prelude” that explains the writer's desperation. First Samuel 21 tells how David fled his crazed “king-employer,” King Saul, ending up in the last place Saul would want to go: Gath. That prominent city of the enemy Philistines had produced the giant hero, Goliath, whom David had slain. Wisely, David didn't stay long, and fled to the wilderness. No wonder he felt alone, vulnerable, and desperate.

 In the grip of desperation and fear,  David looked to the only real hope: the power of God. And—to borrow the title of a book by Max Lucado—the grip of God's grace.

My life story included times when I felt squeezed tighter and tighter by life's challenges. It would have been easy to despair and think (wrongly) that God was busy elsewhere helping somebody who had greater needs. But when desperation pushed me to earnest prayer, a quiet voice to my spirit reminded me that no matter the pressure, no matter the pain, God would never leave.

This poor man  called and the LORD heard him ...Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him. (Psalm 34:6a, 8b).

I could go on and on, quoting verse after verse of this precious psalm. If you opened my Bible to the page with this psalm, you would see circles, lines connecting words and verses, red-pencil highlights, notes in the margin. They attest to the many times I've found myself there, seeking God's comfort and assurance, encouraged that God's “Ad-vice” is able to take care of any life-“vise.”

OUR GREAT SAVIOR

A monthly feature on a hymn of the faith

For some reason, this hymn seems programmed into my heart. Whenever I settle into my favorite rocker for “time with God,” my heart sings the opening lines to a hymn written way back in 1910.Its official title is “Our Great Savior” but I know it better by its opening lines:

Jesus, what a friend for sinners! Jesus, lover of my soul.

It wasn't always the first hymn to come to mind, but over the past decade-plus, I was challenged spiritually by a situation similar to that of the next lines:

Friends may fail me, foes assail me, He, my Savior makes me whole.

My friends remained steadfast, but I did go through challenges with negative people. And in those situations I experienced new ways that my Savior was “saving, helping, keeping, and loving” me.

 But what type of man would write such a hymn? Answer: a Presbyterian pastor-turned-worldwide-evangelist-turned-denominational leader. One acquainted with grief, who outlived two wives (a third survived him). One who packed a lot into his 59 years of life.

 Born in Richmond, Indiana, in 1859, J. Wilbur Chapman made a public profession of faith at age 17. Later, studying for the ministry near Chicago, he attended a D.L. Moody crusade. After Moody preached, Chapman had doubts about his salvation. In the inquiry room, Moody met personally with him, using John 5:24* to give him assurance. Moody would become a lifelong friend of Chapman. Later ordained, Chapman served several Presbyterian and Reformed churches. Among them was Philadelphia's Bethany Presbyterian, which boasted the largest Sunday school in the world.

 When only 34, Chapman began evangelistic ministry, partnering with D.L. Moody at the World's Fair and preaching at other meetings by himself. Soon he branched off on his own to preach worldwide for  crusades that took him to Canada, Hawaii, Fiji, Australia, New Zealand, England, Scotland, Japan, Tasmania and the Philippine Islands.

 During the “crusade” era of his life, he worked with a variety of evangelical leaders. One was a former baseball player whom he sent out as an  “advance man” for crusade arrangements. That man would later launch out on his own as an evangelist with a theatrical preaching style. His name: Billy Sunday.

 Chapman would also direct the Winona Lake Bible conference and set up conferences at Stonybrooke, Long Island, and Montreat, N.C., before taking on roles for the general assembly of the Presbyterian church.  In May 1918, he took on the stressful job of moderator of the Presbyterian general assembly. He would live only until Christmas that year, dying at age 59 of complications two days after emergency gallstone surgery.

 Besides a legacy of souls and soul-winners, he left behind fifteen hymns. The best known are “Jesus, What a Friend of Sinners” (also known as “Our Great Savior”), which would be included in seventy hymnals, and “Glorious Day” (also known as “One Day”), in more than 150 hymnals.

 *John 5:24 (KJV): “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that hearest my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life.”

 This You-Tube provides beautiful scenery and congregational singing of one of Chapman's hymns:

Jesus! What A Friend for Sinners! - Bing video

MEOW.......
 For an eighth time, I am among 101 authors featured in a “Chicken Soup for the Soul” compilation, which released this week. It’s also the second time our gray tabby cat Augie (who died at an amazing 18 years old) enjoyed “Soup”-published notoriety for his wild and wonderful ways. This time, the fun story is titled “Chicken Cat.” It recounts his cowardly encounter with a red hen that mysteriously appeared in our fenced back yard one morning and stayed a week until its owner connected via a “found pet” classified ad. The book is available through traditional online and bookstore outlets.

SWEET REMINDERS

Oops, some got eaten already!

Some friends gifted us at Christmas with a specially-ordered box of chocolates. Instead of flavor names, each piece was labeled with a fun word. My husband, knocked by a recent serious illness, chose one labeled “longevity.” I'd tried hard to keep upbeat through it all, so picked “charm.” Yum, those few seconds of chocolate bliss while we chewed and swallowed!

On second thought, though it would have tasted the same, I thought I should have gone for “wisdom.” I This past year I needed that quality as we navigated so many medical emergencies. But read on....

I know some Christian writers who choose a “focus word” for the year. One is Lucinda Secrest McDowell, of Connecticut, who has written several books packed with short chapters that focus on the spiritual meaning of one word at a time. Her “Ordinary Graces” and “Dwelling Places” (both Abingdon Press) are often-reread treasures in my bookcase. Every year she has a “focus word” that just makes sense for the way she anticipates spiritual growth and deepening.*

Another similarly gifted and word-sensitive writer-speaker is Grace Fox of the Vancouver, Canada, area. She and her husband, who are also support staff for an overseas mission, live simply on a moored boat. That type of housing can have its disadvantages—like how dampness from a prolonged rainy season recently filled their cramped floating home with mildew. And that prompted her to choose “Restore” as her word for 2023 to focus on her need of physical and “habitat” restoration.*

As 2022 ended, I started thinking about what—besides “wisdom”--God might be building in my life. Of all things, the word “humble” came to mind, along with the drawings in E.B. White's delightful childen's book, Charlotte's Web. Most folks know its story: of how a clever spider named Charlotte spun webs with words spelled within the crossing strands. Seeking how to save her barnyard friend, a pig named Wilbur, from slaughter, she spun “some pig,” “terrific,” “radiant” and “humble” above her barn friend before she herself died.

Like the Bible's Solomon, I could have chosen
this label, but another pricked my heart.

Except for “some pig,” I wouldn't mind any of those labels myself. But the word “humble” snagged my heart. I thought of 1 Peter 5:6-7: “Humble yourself, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”

In my earlier years, the words “achieve,” “surpass,” and “exceed” might have described me. I graduated from high school in the top ten of my class of more than 400, plus was the orchestra concertmistress. I was a college newspaper editor and graduated magna cum laude. I finished a master's degree “with highest honors.” Several books and hundreds of magazine articles carried my byline. But there comes a time in spiritual growth when these labels take on a different perspective. Those achievements weren't mine to fling around, but occasions for me to acknowledge my dependence on the Lord. To humbly acknowledge that without Him and His smile, any of the world's glitter and honors are meaningless.

And so, in 2023 I will put the word “humble” at the bottom of my computer screen. It's a word that will roll around in my heart all year in my continuing journey of living for Him.

---

Here are the "word of the year" blogs mentioned above:

MyWord for the Year is in Hebrew – Lucinda Secrest McDowell

How Does a Yearly Focus Word Help Us Grow? | Grace Fox Ministries

CAN & CAN'T

Okay, the illustrations are a bit corny (or maybe “canned humor”)—a CAN and a CANTaloupe, but I’ve been thinking lately of “Can People” and the “Can’t People.”

“Can People” specialize in Biblical obedience and courage. They’re energized by statements like this: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). Author: Paul. “Office” when he wrote that: a miserable First Century prison. Hardly the poster child to illustrate the results of possibility thinking. He couldn’t name-it/claim-it to get out of jail.

But, definitely the poster child for enduring difficulties if those were part of God’s script for his life and ministry. He preceded his “can-do” statement with his thanks to the Philippian church for sending practical help—probably money via an encouraging friend named Epaphroditis.

As a young adult in my late twenties, wrestling with major life changes, I was drawn to Paul’s positivity as expressed in the book of Philippians. My gas tank for life’s journey was definitely empty. I’d spent nearly all my savings to attend Bible college for a year. It was a great experience. I made good friends, gained Bible study tools, and deepened my spiritual walk. But as my coursework ended, I had no job. No place to live. And my bank account was starting to gasp.

My heart said, “God. I can’t go forward. What am I to do?”

Then a miracle one-year job came my way. The housing office asked me to stay in the campus apartments for the summer to “supervise” the guests who came and went—with free housing as my “pay.” When summer ended, some other single women invited me to live in the basement of their rented house as that roommate was leaving. It was dark and dank, but it was housing.

Something else happened that summer. One of my professors had set the high bar of encouraging students to memorize extended passages of scripture. Memorizing selected Bible verses had been part of my spiritual practices. But a whole book? Why not?

I chose the book of Philippians. I knew Paul wrote it out of a discouraging personal situation of imprisonment. Yet I knew it was considered the epistle of joy. And I needed joy in my life! So, I plunged in, memorizing a few verses at a time. Because my summer housing was “dorm furniture,” my bed was the bottom part of a bunk. I still remember holding up my little palm-size New Testament with its backdrop of springs supporting the upper bunk. I’d read a phrase, close my eyes, and try to quote it. Over and over. Over and over.

At times I wondered why I had taken on such a task. But the maturity of that professor’s spiritual walk compelled me to give it a try. By summer’s end, when I had memorized dozens of verses, I realized this had been God’s discipline to chip away at my “can’t” attitudes. He drew nearer than ever before (4:4), taught me about the trait of gentleness (v. 5), worked on my tendency to worry (anxiety, v. 6), and put me through the school of being patient about unanswered prayer (v. 6). Word by word, verse by verse, that huge scripture memory project built up my faith.

Even today, as I read Philippians, I can remember the “sanctuary” of a steel bunk bed, holding up that little Testament and closing my eyes as I memorized each phrase.  As God’s Words filled my brain, He fine-tuned my heart, helping me drop the “T” in the “cants” of my spiritual life.

PATHWAYS

Our neighborhood quail--before the snow

Often when shoveling freshly-fallen snow, I encounter the dainty footprints (claw-prints?) of local California quail, identified by their gray coats and the lone forehead tear-drop feather, like the turban on an oriental potentate. Because female quail typically lay between 8 and 16 eggs, I'm guessing the “tribe” that hangs out under our hedge rose (with its abundance of edible rose hips and buried bugs) is a mom, dad and lots of juvenile quail.

Constantly they cluck “rebekah” as they strut beneath branches. The slightest disturbance—like passersby or our front door opening--sends them into their low-flying escape behavior. Then it's back to rebekah, rebekah, rebekah—their trademark cluck. Sometimes they walk along the top of our backyard fence, their bulky bodies teetering on the narrow fence boards. Though they aren't high fliers like other birds, their wings do provide enough motion to give them soft landings back on earth.

So? Well, having such a beautiful display of God's creation moving through our yard gets me thinking about times in my younger life when I wasn't quite out on my own and still learning from my parents or parent figures in my life. The latter group was particularly important to me because my own parents died when I was a very young adult. Thus I looked for godly adult models to lead me into fuller adulthood. Like a poult (young quail) following close behind a parent, I kept their example in sight.

Of that time in my life, this verse took on personal meaning:

Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them. Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way, walk in in it.'” (Isaiah 30:20-21)

The context, of course, was the prophet Isaiah's warning for Israel to return to God. But he wanted them to realize there could be a better ending to the story being written by conquering nations if they turned from their immature, immoral ways. For me, during my times of adversity and affliction after my parents' death, I became especially tuned in to the character of good people God placed in my life.

Another encouraging passage from that difficult time in my life was Psalm 37:23-24:

The Lord delights in the way of the man whose steps he has made firm; though he stumble, he will not fail, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.

When life got scary—in job and location changes when I didn't know where I'd live, my finances were thin, and I hadn't connected with a spiritual family (okay, are you hearing Mama and Papa Quail clucking me to stay close?)-- I prayed in trust that God would firm up my faltering steps because I believed He was utterly trustworthy. And He did, often in surprising, last-minute ways.

When quail wander over the snow covering our driveway, their claws leave delightful patterns. They circle around a few times, then go off in a different direction. And sometimes my life was like that, too. Not a straight-forward race, but one with detours. But God was keeping His eye on me and—like those parent quails—knew when to signal my need to come back closer to His safe place.

BOUNDLESS, FREE

 A monthly column on a well-known hymn.

At some point you've probably sung the hymn whose music reminds you of powerful, rolling ocean waves. It fits the lyrics that include these about God's love:

O, the deep, deep love of Jesus,/Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!

Rolling as a mighty ocean/In its fullness over me!

Surprisingly, these stout words of affirmation came from the pen of someone who, as a young man, nearly committed suicide. His name was Samuel Trevor Francis, and one cold, rainy winter night in 1853, at about age 19, he halted as he crossed the Hungerford Bridge of London's River Thames. Discouraged, sickly, he was about to fall over the railings to death. Instead of yielding to the inner voice that said, “End all this misery,” he reportedly heard another message, “You do believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.” Instead of jumping to his death, he affirmed, “I do believe, and I put my whole trust in Him as my Savior.” He ran across the bridge repeating the words, “Then I am saved, then I am saved!”

Born in northern suburb of London, his family moved about 200 miles north to the port city of Hull, near relatives who taught him Bible truths. At age nine, along with his brother and father, he joined the local church choir. By that time he was also writing poetry. When the family moved back to London, where he briefly apprenticed with a doctor, he encountered a group of Plymouth Brethren believers. Finding new hope after that dark night on the bridge, becoming a successful merchant, he found his spiritual passion in hymn-writing and open-air preaching through the Plymouth Brethren. His ministry included helping with music for the Dwight Moody/Ira Sankey London crusades of 1873-74.

Despite failing eyesight, he preached for 73 years around the world, having the unusual privilege of hearing some of his hymns sung. At age 92 he went into a nursing home where he soon died.

Of course, the other half of the story of his best known hymn is the dramatic music later matched to it. For that, credit Welsh musician Thomas John Williams, who brought the tune to Welsh hymnals in 1897. The tune became known as “Ebenezer” for the South Wales chapel that Williams once attended.. The name comes from the “stone of help” mentioned in 1 Samuel 7:12, commemorating the Israelites' thunder-assisted victory over the Philistines. As a footnote, another “Williams,” famed English musician and music historian Ralph Vaughan Williams, called “Ebenezer” one of history's greatest hymn tunes.

This stunning hymn video pairs a violinist and vocalist performing at a beach—appropriate for the hymn's phrase “rolling as a mighty ocean”:

Oh,The Deep Love of Jesus - Epic Version! - Bing video