IN A NUTSHELL

When weeding one day, I came across this stalk which revealed its origin when pulled from the soil. A future walnut tree! If planted and nurtured, given a few years (or decades), I could have harvested a few buckets to crack, hull and stuff in a freezer bag for future cooking projects. (Sorry, tossed it in the garbage.) Later, however, I thought of how our super-charged world likes simple things: big concepts reduced to catch phrases. Big ideas to a nutshell.

The Gospel is like that, yet not like that. It's a big idea, condensed often to easy-to-recall verses like “God so loved the world that He gave....” (John 3:16). It's also like the potential of something really big and nurturing to the world—the transformation of a sin-preferring human being into a humble person loving God with everything he or she has within him or her. I think Peter suggests this in his second letter to churches:

But grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. (2 Peter 3:18)

This stalwart statement came from a man of energy and convictions, his early character shaped in the turbulent and unpredictable waters of the Sea of Galilee. Sometimes fish filled his nets, sometimes not. Making a living was hard, then it got harder when a Teacher came to the shoreline and said, “Follow me.” Without a salary or a 401K or any of the financial tools we have today. Living.On.Faith.

The man who once wielded needles and twine to mend his fishing nets would find himself crafting words and admonitions to teach and encourage those drawn to the teachings of the Son of God. In becoming a “fisher of men,” he learned to pay attention to human character instead of the water and the weather.

I often return to the first chapter of 2 Peter and his description of growing godly character. One builds on another: faith, goodness, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, love. Such attributes of character are to grow “in increasing measure....[to] keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 1:8).

In a nutshell, that's the Gospel. Let Jesus change you, and plant you, to change the world.

SUN OF OUR SOULS

 A feature on a hymn of the faith

A bright yellow rose brings its sunny cheer every spring to my front-yard rose garden. At one time, a stake by each rose gave the floral name. This one is now “stakeless,” but I recall it as named “Oregold.” It's the sunshine bush of the “patch,” and my floral reminder of the “Sun of My Soul,” the Lord Jesus Christ.

Yes, there's a hymn of that name, and it goes way, way back to the late 1700s. The lyrics are credited to an English curate and scholar named John Keble (1792-1866). He didn't have all the scientific information we do about the sun. But he had a heart for God as well as a stout Anglican upbringing. He also knew his Bible, drawing the text for his most famous hymn from this prophecy of a Messiah:

But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. (Malachi 4:2)

Keble, son of a vicar, became one himself after his education at Oxford where he excelled academically. Loyal to his birth family, he turned down clerical promotions to serve in a small parish, taking care of his widowed father and sisters. He also was part of the “Oxford Movement,” which sought to return the Anglican church to its historical liturgical roots, in contrast to the Wesleyan “holiness” emphasis of that time. That's a very brief summary of his life; that in the online Wikipedia goes on and on (3,000 words plus charts).

In singing this song, my mind goes to the gleaming, blinding globe of the sky that we call “the sun.” I cannot even imagine its role in creation, except to trust in a God whose power is so great it is beyond human understanding. The entry for “sun” in the World Book encyclopedia (which supposedly condenses things down) goes on for 13 pages. All that technical information just scratches the surface, And then come the “sun” analogies in language and literature embracing its size, fury and sustaining power for life on earth. Keble tapped into that image in this hymn, one of many hymn texts attributed to him. (One resource said he wrote 56 hymns, another connected him to 765 hymn texts.) This hymn would eventually be included in more than 1,200 hymn compilations in several languages.

Despite his brilliance and credentials as a preacher and scholar, Keble was a modest man who published his hymn texts anonymously. Their royalties helped him pay the bills for the small village church where he served for more than three decades. He died at about 74 in 1866; his wife survived him by six weeks. They are buried side-by-side in churchyard at Hursley (about ten miles north of Southampton in England), his longtime parish.

In this classic “YouTube” rendition (a recording of hymns of 100 years or older), George Beverly Shea narrates and sings:

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CHILLING THOUGHTS

Just thought with July's higher temperatures, you might need a “cool-down”--thus a photo taken half a year ago in the midst of a January freeze. Brr—probably you don't want to stand under this collection that I spotted across our back fence. Though not lethal, these pointy ice structures could bruise. And what a good picture of human character that would rather stab than heal.

I'm not a great fan of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), whose many connections included the Transcendental movement, which rejected the Christian view of God. But this Emerson quote surely lines up with the Biblical observation that “whatever a man sows, that will he also reap” (Galatians 6:7-9). Emerson's quote, very similar:

Sow an act and you reap a habit. Sow a habit and you reap a character. Sow a character and you reap a destiny.

In other words ,your choices can have the potential for long-range consequences that may outlive you.

To relate that to real icicles, given the right conditions, every accumulating drip “grows” the product. In 2017, an icicle 30 meters long and 15 meters wide (think: about 90 feet long and five feet wide) was found in a remote area of northwest China. You wouldn't want to stand under, or near, one like that. Even medium-size ones can threaten. Some winters in my town, I noticed wooden construction “horses” cordoning off a dangerous icicle by a business building.

But in everyday actions and words, we have the potential to be—or not to be—icicle people. That term fits folks who threaten others with icy verbal or behavioral jabs. And they wonder why people within range keep their social distance!

Okay, I'm guilty of breaking off real growing icicles that grow off our roof in winter. No damage done, in fact damage prevented before they grew big enough, say, to bend or break a rain gutter. And their potential to damage often reminds me of the human analogy of how “spiked words” (=mean, accusing, lying) can wound deeper than the speaker realizes.

By the way, I still remember my childhood task (2^nd grade?) of learning to spell “icicle.” It simply looked funny, all those “same” letters. I wanted to pronounce it ICK ICK LEE. My mother (probably) helped me see the music of the spelled out version: I SEE I SEE ELLY. I've never had a problem since!

'BEE' THERE

See the bee? (It's on the bottom of
the second blossom clump down)

Oh, the sayings we borrow from the apiarian (bee) world: “busy as a bee,” “buzz-word,” “bee's knees.” “don't worry, bee happy,” “as cute as can bee,” and more. If you're really into this “bee” thing, visit this site: Bee Mottos and Slogans, Quotes and Sayings - Bee Real Honey

But a recent day, working near blueberry bushes where bees were crawling in the plants' blooms, I mused, “Thanks for BEE-ing there, little winged friends.” I knew their hovering over the bushes' tiny white blossoms could mean a crisp, tasty blueberry in a few months. Last year I didn't have many blossoms (and nearly zero berries) so I stirred some concoctions into the soil....and waited. This year the bee battalion came. Check with me the end of the summer to see if these black-and-yellow hovering insects did their magic.

I know I'm not the first human to stop and consider the bee. And probably not the first to pause a moment whenever I encounter “bee” or “honey/nectar” references in the Bible. These amazing insects and their golden, edible product have been around a long time! Probably the best known ”honey verse” comes in the conclusion of Psalm 19:7-10—that all the laws and ways of God are “more precious than gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.” Others:

“How sweet are your promises to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (Psalm 119:103)

“Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste. Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul.” (Proverbs 24:13-14)

Love-sick King Solomon had a different analogy for his beloved: “Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue” (Song of Songs 4:11). I don't think he was referring to the menu for the wedding reception! Or a flavored lipstick.

Oh yes, strong man Samson also ate honey from a hive he found in a lion's corpse (Judges 14). I'm sorry, but, UGH!

A negative analogy: “The lips of an adulteress drip honey, and her speech is smoother than oil, but in the end she is bitter as gall....” (Proverbs 5:3-4). In other words, “bee” careful (sorry). Flattery that seems sweet can be bitter if it comes from a cloyed heart.

Could Jesus have Jesus enjoyed some raw honey while on His earthly rounds? Why not? No doubt He saw bees swarming around a hive. Though it's not in His recorded words, those bees certainly illustrated one of His final admonitions. Through a parable of a departing landowner giving instructions to his workers, the Lord gave this poignant command: “Occupy until I come” (Luke 19:13). “Occupy”--be at diligent work. Dare I say, like bees?

JOY ON THE WAY

By the time this is published, the clumps of early-spring grape hyacinth by my front walk will be limp, their stalks shriveled to threads. But they'll be back again next year, shooting up as the weather whispers the coming of spring. Their resiliency amazes me, as some of the rock salt thrown on the icy walk next to them during winter surely contaminates their soil. But they still return, offering their brilliant purple “beads” as a springtime delight.

For whatever reason, while reading Colossians 2:7—a wonderful admonition and benediction—those little plants came to mind:

Just as you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

The analogy isn't perfect; grape hyacinth have a very short blooming cycle. But they're true to their nature, responding in God's amazing plant growth cycle to push from their dormant roots with delicate, lovely blooms.

If grape hyacinth could talk, I wonder if they'd complain a bit about their long dormant season. I'm reminded of David's woe-is-me Psalm 13 as he kept running and hiding from those who opposed him. Psalm 13 starts out with almost a whining tone:

How long, O LORD, will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have horror in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

David is definitely down in the dumps. He's wondering if his foes might succeed in taking his life. But he ends on a note of hope against hope, of trusting the trustworthiness of God:

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me. (vv. 5-6)

The Hebrew word translated “unfailing love” is chesed and used of God's steadfast, faithful love, such as seen in His covenant relationship with His people. It's a whole package of amazing qualities: loving-kindness, mercy, and loyalty that is unwavering in challenges of difficulties. In English, we just don't have an adequate synonym for God's awesome, immeasurable love.

Do we experience hardships in this life? Slumps? Discouragement? Harm and danger? Yes. Is God aware of them? Absolutely. Are we supposed to kick at them and blame God? No. It's better instead to stop, look and be in awe of how He works through our trials and hard places. He knows “how long,” and it will be just the right interval.

Possibly, on that hard-to-travel path, we'll find whispers of His goodness. Little blessings, Glimpses of joy. Like those delicate beaded hyacinth blooming by my home every spring. Reminding me that, after every winter, God will stir the earth and send them forth. True to His character as faithful—to me.

MAKE ME A BLESSING

 A monthly feature on a hymn of the faith.

His parents gave him an Old Testament name, “Ira,” meaning “watchful” in Hebrew. It was also the name carried by three of King David's warriors around 1000 B.C.. Though little more is known of them other than their tribes, no doubt these vigorous men could be labeled “blessings” to their earthly leader in that tumultuous time in Hebrew history. (1) People don't always match the character conveyed by their names, but the legacy of Ira B. Wilson (1880-1950) includes a mighty little song, “Make Me a Blessing.”

Wilson's biography isn't flashy. He was born in 1880 in Bedford, a little town in Iowa. His sister taught him to play violin and organ. Around 1902 he began studies at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. While there, he wrote a poem about being a blessing; his roommate George Shuler reportedly added the music. Their piece was rejected by a music publisher. Later, however, someone made 1,000 copies of it. One came to the attention of George Dibble, a singer and music director for the International Sunday School convention in Cleveland, Ohio. Soon after its convention introduction, it became widely sung.

Wilson worked in Christian music publishing throughout his life, with other original pieces reaching print. Some were published under a pseudonym. He also directed a volunteer choir. Little is known about his personal life other than that his first wife probably died and he remarried. He died in his 70^th year and is buried at Forest Lawn in the Los Angeles area.

Though it seems odd, in later years Wilson didn't remember writing the lyrics. He denied authorship to his death, even though his college-years-hymn lyrics went on to be sung by millions of Christians throughout the world.

So, a take-away from the meaning of his name, “Ira,” meaning “watchful”? Perhaps a reminder that no matter our gifts (even a simple childhood acquaintance with violin and organ), being a “watchful” learner under the umbrella of gifted musicians and publishers can be part of God's plan for ministry. If the words and tune to “Make me a blessing” are easily recalled, remember that in God's economy there are no “little people.” His plan involves a whole range of abilities. David had his warriors, but Christian music also had its back-of-the-battle-line folks. Like Ira Wilson.

Enjoy singing this classic hymn again:

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1. “Ira,” a Jairite and “chief ruler about David” (2 Samuel 20:26); “Ira a Tekoite, one of David's thirty “mighty warriors (2 Samuel 23:26, 1 Chronicles 11:28, 27:9); “Ira the Ithrite,” one of David's “valiant men” (2 Samuel 23:38, 1 Chronicles 11:40)

RESTING, RESTING....

China: Hudson Taylor claimed it for Christ

An inspiring story about a hymn of the faith.

Sometimes in doing research for these blogs, I come across stories that cause me to push back from my desk and whisper, “God, You are awesome.” That happened recently when I decided to look up the story behind an old hymn, “Jesus, I Am Resting, Resting.” Like many hymns swirling in my gray matter, it had “come back” to me as I work through the emotions of losing a spouse.

I don't have all the pieces to the background of the hymn, “Jesus, I am Resting, Resting,” but here's how it goes. About 1876, a 31-year-old Irish poet, Jean Sophia Pigott, penned some verses about trusting and resting in Jesus. An English pastor added music to it. Jean Pigott would die in 1882, and her survivors would include her brothers, missionaries to China under Hudson Taylor's ministry.

Somehow, sometime, a brother had apparently shared his sister's poem-turned-hymn with Taylor. A few years later, in 1901, the Chinese “Boxer Rebellion” erupted. Many of its participants were skilled in Chinese martial arts—also called “Chinese Boxing.” Eventually, the combatants turned against foreigners, including Christian missionaries. Jean's brothers Thomas and William were among more than 75 missionaries slain during the Chinese rebellions.

Greatly burdened by the unspeakable loss of his workers, Taylor reportedly found regular comfort from Jean Pigott's hymn when he sat down at his little organ to sing and worship.

Jean had written other poems, many compiled into a book titled “A Royal Service.” She died in Ireland at age 37—nearly two decades ahead of her missionary-brothers.

Learning the background of this gentle hymn—how it met a spiritual need years later following a crushing loss—helped me appreciate all the more God's planning and presence in leading and comforting His children.

Here's a You-tube sing-along to remind you of the hymn:

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