A bride I know was a gem. She promptly and graciously acknowledged every shower and wedding gift. Except one. The package of pink towels came minus any sort of card or I.D. Would the gift-givers think her ungrateful because she never sent a note? How could she ever find out who they were?
As far as I know, she never solved the mystery. But her dilemma made me thankful that there’s one amazing, priceless gift for which I can daily give thanks. I was reminded of it a couple days ago in reading Paul’s first letter to Timothy. The venerable apostle starts out talking about people who reject God. Then he turns the finger on himself, the ultra-religious Christian hater, proud of his religious pedigree, and whose life changed dramatically to Christ-lover. Imagine the angst in his voice as Paul declared, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1:15).
He writes of Christ’s unlimited patience with him, then breaks out in a doxology: “Now to the King eternal, immoral, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen” (v. 17).
Paul knew how to say “thank you” to God. He knew what God had given Him—the priceless gift of eternal life. And even the midst of his serious discussion about false teachers and other problems of the religious community, Paul stopped to say, “Thank you, God.”
The King eternal. There are no other Gods besides Him.
The immortal God. The One without a beginning and without an end.
The invisible God. At least for now. But someday, “we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). I hope that grips your heart like nothing else. It does mine.
The only God. Not a shelf of gods. The only God, ever.
Honor and glory for ever and ever. Match this with the celestial hymn of Revelation 15:3: “Great and marvelous are your deeds, Lord God Almighty. Just and true are your ways, King of the ages.”
Here on a chilly early winter day, the fire is crackling and my husband is cracking open walnuts. I’ll soon assemble a mega “green bean casserole” for a big family dinner at my sister-in-law’s. Our daily newspaper with its 45 pounds (just kidding) of ads purring, “Buy, buy, buy” is in a disheveled pile near the couch. Often at Thanksgiving, I read my favorite “thankful” text, Psalm 103, as a reminder to praise God for all His benefits. But this year my heart is drawn to that verse in Paul’s letter to his protégé, Timothy.
Underlined in my Bible years ago with a blunt red pencil, it reminds me that this is what Thanksgiving is all about. Unlike the perplexed bride, we know both the Giver and His Gift. And to Him be all praise and thanksgiving, Amen.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
The cat of a hundred names
The theology lesson, all two or three pounds of him, shook in a culvert pipe, alone. Probably a couple months old, he’d been abandoned at the park near our local hydroelectric dam. When no one was looking, people dumped cats and Easter bunnies there, illegally.
Becoming coyote casserole was his likely fate.
Then a father and teen son, on a guy-bonding time, passed by. They’d just left the stagnant oven of their valley home that August first. The rocky hills that shouldered the dam offered some shade, sweetened by the mist wafting off spillways.
They heard the faint “mew.” Two softies, they couldn’t leave him there. Luring him out with a chicken nugget from a nearby trash bin, they swathed him in a towel from the trunk of the car and brought him home.
To a mom who was asthmatic. Who choked and sneezed around cats.
“Where’s some tuna? Get some milk. We’ll just keep him overnight and try to find a home.”
Promises, promises.
That was more than eight years ago. The wisp of a kitten is now 15 pounds of aloofness, deprived of his malehood but not of his territorial temper. Identified with his city pet license and proof of rabies vaccine. Called “Auggie” (for August 1, when he was found) and dozens of other names. More than 150, in fact. When cleaning out the other day, I found a cat-name list my son and his sister had concocted. “Buick.” “Rumplefatskin.” “King Midas of the Golden Drool.” “Bleh.” “Mookie.” “Slug” (my favorite). I’ll spare you the entire list.
No matter how insulting the name, the cat responded in the usual cat way of ignoring us…unless we had a can labeled “Friskies” in hand and he was hungry.
That cat-name list reminded me of something wonderful about our relationship with God. Devotional author Max Lucado wrote about it. God whispers our names. He calls us by name (Isaiah 45:4). Our names are written on His hand (Isaiah 49:16). Even when we muddle under the generic name “sinner,” He knows the name He created us to have: Child of God. Lamb. Beloved. My Precious One.
He rescued us from something far worse than coyote teeth. The One who hung on a cross with a sign declaring “King of the Jews” (John 19:21) took away the condemning name, the hellish destination. He made it possible to have a new name. Redeemed One. Forgiven. Chosen.
His name is Jesus. Savior. Lord.
He whispers your name, in love. Can you hear it?
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Look to the ant....
Alone, they weren’t bigger than a hangnail or a thorn in the thumb. But they were even more annoying than those in early spring when hundreds boiled out of cracks in our driveway, then started migrating inside the house. Thanks to ants, I realized I had a spiritual problem.
At first there were just a few that we could whap or wipe away with a wet paper towel in seconds. Then came the morning when they held a wriggling revival in the cat’s food dish (he never was a member of the “Clean Plate Club”), filled the grandstands of the Honey Nut Cheerios box, and started scaling the heights of the trash bin for more delectable discards. Every toaster crumb and ice cream drop came under mass scrutiny.
I shooed the cat outside and sprayed ant poison. Black square ant traps became part of the house décor. And still they came.
One early morning, after letting in our feline night watch guard (for what other reason would he stay outside all night?), my husband crawled back in bed and said, “It wasn’t pretty.” When I got up a little later, it still wasn’t pretty. The kitchen looked like someone had sprinkled coffee grounds all over the floor and cabinets. And this was where I cooked?
Okay, so I had a sanitation problem. But what of the spiritual problem? Sometimes it takes tiny annoyances to help you realize how short your fuse can be. I got snippy at my husband. Whiny to my friends. And, oh so mean, when I came in the kitchen and saw a wiggling line over the floor, up the cabinet side, and into places I’d just cleaned out!
Well, the first frost has come, and yesterday we dared to take the plastic wrap “seal” off the plastic lidded container of cereal. We haven’t seen the enemy for at least a week.
And I went to my Bible.
“Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.” –Proverbs 6:6-8
“Ants are creatures of little strength, yet they store up their food in the summer.”—Proverbs 30:25
Despite being tiny and fragile, they excel in industriousness. They do their jobs without special incentives! They’re fascinating--if you look up “ant” in an encyclopedia, you’ll learn more than you thought possible. And that’s just a start. A Bible dictionary reveals more:
*Ants in the Holy Land place their nests near threshing floors or storage bins for grain. They stay near the food!
*The grain becomes their winter food. A stocked pantry!
*They consort with certain insects (like aphids) that secrete sweet juices they crave, and store their insect-friends’ eggs with their own for future use. I’m not sure what to call this—slavery? Co-dependency? Let your imagination fly!
But a spiritual application? For me, Psalm 19:10 came to mind: that God’s Word is “sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. By them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward.”
A regular intake of God’s Word is essential for spiritual survival. In His foreknowledge of difficult events to come, God may impress on us to “feed” upon a certain portion of His Word more diligently in preparation for that time. In my late twenties, I obeyed nudges to memorize large parts of Philippians and Romans 8. A few years later, when my parents died, my heart was fortified to endure a spiritual winter. When my mind was too numb to study scripture, I could still “harvest” the sweetness of His Word—those reminders to rejoice (Philippians) and to know that nothing could separate me from His love (Romans 8:39).
I’m still not fond of ants scurrying all over my kitchen (and even finding my toothbrush in the bathroom!). But I am in awe of their Creator and stand reminded that I, too, need to be industrious in taking in the sweet nectar of Scripture.
At first there were just a few that we could whap or wipe away with a wet paper towel in seconds. Then came the morning when they held a wriggling revival in the cat’s food dish (he never was a member of the “Clean Plate Club”), filled the grandstands of the Honey Nut Cheerios box, and started scaling the heights of the trash bin for more delectable discards. Every toaster crumb and ice cream drop came under mass scrutiny.
I shooed the cat outside and sprayed ant poison. Black square ant traps became part of the house décor. And still they came.
One early morning, after letting in our feline night watch guard (for what other reason would he stay outside all night?), my husband crawled back in bed and said, “It wasn’t pretty.” When I got up a little later, it still wasn’t pretty. The kitchen looked like someone had sprinkled coffee grounds all over the floor and cabinets. And this was where I cooked?
Okay, so I had a sanitation problem. But what of the spiritual problem? Sometimes it takes tiny annoyances to help you realize how short your fuse can be. I got snippy at my husband. Whiny to my friends. And, oh so mean, when I came in the kitchen and saw a wiggling line over the floor, up the cabinet side, and into places I’d just cleaned out!
Well, the first frost has come, and yesterday we dared to take the plastic wrap “seal” off the plastic lidded container of cereal. We haven’t seen the enemy for at least a week.
And I went to my Bible.
“Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest.” –Proverbs 6:6-8
“Ants are creatures of little strength, yet they store up their food in the summer.”—Proverbs 30:25
Despite being tiny and fragile, they excel in industriousness. They do their jobs without special incentives! They’re fascinating--if you look up “ant” in an encyclopedia, you’ll learn more than you thought possible. And that’s just a start. A Bible dictionary reveals more:
*Ants in the Holy Land place their nests near threshing floors or storage bins for grain. They stay near the food!
*The grain becomes their winter food. A stocked pantry!
*They consort with certain insects (like aphids) that secrete sweet juices they crave, and store their insect-friends’ eggs with their own for future use. I’m not sure what to call this—slavery? Co-dependency? Let your imagination fly!
But a spiritual application? For me, Psalm 19:10 came to mind: that God’s Word is “sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb. By them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward.”
A regular intake of God’s Word is essential for spiritual survival. In His foreknowledge of difficult events to come, God may impress on us to “feed” upon a certain portion of His Word more diligently in preparation for that time. In my late twenties, I obeyed nudges to memorize large parts of Philippians and Romans 8. A few years later, when my parents died, my heart was fortified to endure a spiritual winter. When my mind was too numb to study scripture, I could still “harvest” the sweetness of His Word—those reminders to rejoice (Philippians) and to know that nothing could separate me from His love (Romans 8:39).
I’m still not fond of ants scurrying all over my kitchen (and even finding my toothbrush in the bathroom!). But I am in awe of their Creator and stand reminded that I, too, need to be industrious in taking in the sweet nectar of Scripture.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Civility and yard sales
The incidents hit the news last week like grenades: a rapper ranted rudely at an entertainment awards show, a senator shouted sarcasm at the President, and a tennis diva threw a tirade over a ruling—all before millions watching on television. “Where is civility?” commentators asked, processing the parade of negative behavior.
These public figures disappointed me, too, but I wasn’t surprised. Hey, I’d just experienced the darker side of humanity while holding a yard/estate sale of my late mom-in-law’s things. These types were among the yard sale’s shoppers:
Stalkers: They ignore starting times. They’re after items with collector’s value to re-sell. The day before the sale, as I lugged borrowed tables to the lawn, one woman showed up claiming the ad said “today,” then asked if I had certain collectibles she could buy while she was here! On sale day, one man showed up at 7 a.m. (an hour before the sale started) as I was frantically putting out items. He, too, asked about certain collectibles.
Stuffers: They practice the tricks of shoplifters. For this sale, I’d placed matching towel sets (bath, hand, wash cloth) in twist-tied clear plastic bags, the “set” price clearly marked. Midway through the sale, while tidying up display tables, I noticed a woman fumbling with one of the sacks. It seemed unusually full when she came to pay, so I opened it and found other items conveniently “included” for the same price. When I pointed out the problem, she glared and left.
Switchers: They re-price items, thanks to easily-removed price stickers. That had to be the case when people brought ridiculously low-priced items to the cash box table. Even though I was tired after two days of pricing things, I knew I’d priced those items higher. What could I say, except, “You got yourself quite a bargain.”
Scammers: They use planned deceit. A friend who’s a swimming coach helped her team hold a fund-raising sale. At the beginning, a woman gave them $15 to “hold” a $30 vacuum cleaner, saying she’d get the rest of the price from her husband. At the end of the sale, she returned and claimed, “My husband doesn’t want me to get it. Please give me my $30 back.” Told she’d left only $15, she began quarreling loudly. Finally the coach said, “I will give you the $30 you are demanding, but we all know you only left $15 and you are robbing these girls of money for their fund raiser.” She took the $30 and left. (Reminder: get it in writing!)
The Bible speaks to such behavior:
“’It’s no good, it’s no good!’ says the buyer; then off he goes and boasts about his purchase.” --Proverbs 20:14
“Like a partridge that hatches eggs it did not lay is the man who gains riches by unjust means.” –Jeremiah 17:11
“The Lord detests lying lips.” –Proverbs 12:22
“The Lord abhors dishonest scales.” –Proverbs 11:1
Yard sales can be a good thing, especially in helping some of us pare down and others of us live more economically. A lot of nice people came to the yard sale, too, enabling us to continue emptying the earthly home where my mom-in-law lived.
But the shady shoppers? The prophet Jeremiah was right: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure” (Jeremiah 17:9). There’s nothing like sitting over a cash box full of quarters and crumbled dollar bills to remind you that ordinary people as well as celebrities reveal their souls when “civility” is missing.
These public figures disappointed me, too, but I wasn’t surprised. Hey, I’d just experienced the darker side of humanity while holding a yard/estate sale of my late mom-in-law’s things. These types were among the yard sale’s shoppers:
Stalkers: They ignore starting times. They’re after items with collector’s value to re-sell. The day before the sale, as I lugged borrowed tables to the lawn, one woman showed up claiming the ad said “today,” then asked if I had certain collectibles she could buy while she was here! On sale day, one man showed up at 7 a.m. (an hour before the sale started) as I was frantically putting out items. He, too, asked about certain collectibles.
Stuffers: They practice the tricks of shoplifters. For this sale, I’d placed matching towel sets (bath, hand, wash cloth) in twist-tied clear plastic bags, the “set” price clearly marked. Midway through the sale, while tidying up display tables, I noticed a woman fumbling with one of the sacks. It seemed unusually full when she came to pay, so I opened it and found other items conveniently “included” for the same price. When I pointed out the problem, she glared and left.
Switchers: They re-price items, thanks to easily-removed price stickers. That had to be the case when people brought ridiculously low-priced items to the cash box table. Even though I was tired after two days of pricing things, I knew I’d priced those items higher. What could I say, except, “You got yourself quite a bargain.”
Scammers: They use planned deceit. A friend who’s a swimming coach helped her team hold a fund-raising sale. At the beginning, a woman gave them $15 to “hold” a $30 vacuum cleaner, saying she’d get the rest of the price from her husband. At the end of the sale, she returned and claimed, “My husband doesn’t want me to get it. Please give me my $30 back.” Told she’d left only $15, she began quarreling loudly. Finally the coach said, “I will give you the $30 you are demanding, but we all know you only left $15 and you are robbing these girls of money for their fund raiser.” She took the $30 and left. (Reminder: get it in writing!)
The Bible speaks to such behavior:
“’It’s no good, it’s no good!’ says the buyer; then off he goes and boasts about his purchase.” --Proverbs 20:14
“Like a partridge that hatches eggs it did not lay is the man who gains riches by unjust means.” –Jeremiah 17:11
“The Lord detests lying lips.” –Proverbs 12:22
“The Lord abhors dishonest scales.” –Proverbs 11:1
Yard sales can be a good thing, especially in helping some of us pare down and others of us live more economically. A lot of nice people came to the yard sale, too, enabling us to continue emptying the earthly home where my mom-in-law lived.
But the shady shoppers? The prophet Jeremiah was right: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure” (Jeremiah 17:9). There’s nothing like sitting over a cash box full of quarters and crumbled dollar bills to remind you that ordinary people as well as celebrities reveal their souls when “civility” is missing.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Gentle on my mind
Lately the phrase “Gentle on my Mind” has floated in and out of my thinking. I’ve learned it’s a song popularized by many artists, but especially Glen Campbell. The lyrics are about a drifter’s long-ago love. But I’m drawn to the title for another reason: how hymns learned long ago come back to me—“gentle on my mind”—in renewed ministry.
As a young adult I began attending a church that sang lots of the old Gospel hymns. As a newcomer to the Gospel music culture, I embarrassed myself more than once as I helped out at the piano or organ. My mediocre keyboard skills were stretched by the tricky rhythms or fourteen sharps (or so it seemed). But one by one, those melodies and snatches of verses became a part of me, tucked away in some cerebral electrical compartment. Some rested unused for years, yet ready for retrieval if needed.
After my parents died when I was 31, I was drawn to Lina Sandell Berg’s hymn “Day by Day.” Its message seemed tailored for me with its reminder to find daily strength for life’s trials through trust in God’s wisdom and love. Later I learned that when only 26, she was on lake trip with her pastor-father when the boat lurched and he fell overboard and drowned. Her hymn came out of that incredible tragedy. And about a hundred years later it was “gentle on my mind” in my own loss.
Through the years, other hymns have drifted in during times of rejoicing or tragedy. This past week it happened again. On Monday, I was part of the family surrounding my mother-in-law, Doris, as she took her last breath. Seeing death happen for a faithful Christian woman drove home Paul’s proclamation: “Absent from the body, present with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8).
A lot went through my mind that day, but the next morning something I never expected was “gentle on my mind.” It was the chorus of one of those old peppy Gospel hymns—probably one that Doris had sung herself in her many years as a pastor’s wife: “O victory in Jesus, my Savior forever.” I grabbed a hymnbook, read all the verses and chorus—and I knew God had sent it special delivery.
I’m still singing it in my heart: when I wake up, when I drive to errands, and when I lie down at night. And I’ve put a hymnal by the chair where I often read and pray. When another hymn is “gentle on my mind,” I want to be ready to be blessed again.
As a young adult I began attending a church that sang lots of the old Gospel hymns. As a newcomer to the Gospel music culture, I embarrassed myself more than once as I helped out at the piano or organ. My mediocre keyboard skills were stretched by the tricky rhythms or fourteen sharps (or so it seemed). But one by one, those melodies and snatches of verses became a part of me, tucked away in some cerebral electrical compartment. Some rested unused for years, yet ready for retrieval if needed.
After my parents died when I was 31, I was drawn to Lina Sandell Berg’s hymn “Day by Day.” Its message seemed tailored for me with its reminder to find daily strength for life’s trials through trust in God’s wisdom and love. Later I learned that when only 26, she was on lake trip with her pastor-father when the boat lurched and he fell overboard and drowned. Her hymn came out of that incredible tragedy. And about a hundred years later it was “gentle on my mind” in my own loss.
Through the years, other hymns have drifted in during times of rejoicing or tragedy. This past week it happened again. On Monday, I was part of the family surrounding my mother-in-law, Doris, as she took her last breath. Seeing death happen for a faithful Christian woman drove home Paul’s proclamation: “Absent from the body, present with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8).
A lot went through my mind that day, but the next morning something I never expected was “gentle on my mind.” It was the chorus of one of those old peppy Gospel hymns—probably one that Doris had sung herself in her many years as a pastor’s wife: “O victory in Jesus, my Savior forever.” I grabbed a hymnbook, read all the verses and chorus—and I knew God had sent it special delivery.
I’m still singing it in my heart: when I wake up, when I drive to errands, and when I lie down at night. And I’ve put a hymnal by the chair where I often read and pray. When another hymn is “gentle on my mind,” I want to be ready to be blessed again.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
'Twas a dark and stormy night
‘Twas a dark and stormy night ....
It’s the classic opening line for a mystery novel. Even the aspiring author-dog Snoopy (of Peanuts fame) used it as he tapped out his best-seller on a typewriter balanced on top of his doghouse.
But it really was a dark and stormy night when Acts 28 opened. With a famous prisoner (the apostle Paul) aboard, bound to appeal his case to Caesar in Rome, a sailing ship found itself on the wrong side of the sailing season. Violently tossed for two weeks in a horrendous storm (offering another meaning to “think green”), the ship finally ran aground and broke apart. Miraculously, all made it safely ashore. But no luxury hotel awaited (nor even a Red Cross shelter), only a beach battered by the cold rain.
Word quickly spread among the locals, and they rushed to help out, building a fire for the bone-cold survivors.
Stop a minute here to consider Acts 28:2: “The islanders showed us unusual kindness” (NIV. RSV). Other versions call it “no little kindness” (KJV), “extraordinary kindness” (NASB), “unusual and remarkable kindness” (Amplified). It’s easy to skim right over this benevolent beach scene and rush on to the Hollywood moment of the chapter: the apostle shaking a poisonous viper off his hand (2:3-6).
Unusual kindness. Luke, the writer of Acts, didn’t just say “we got help.” He commended these strangers for helping above and beyond.
My eighty-something friend Mary, a remarkable woman who leads Bible studies in senior facilities, brought that verse to my attention and got me thinking. All around us, people are suffering in spiritual storms. They’re tossed on a lonely beach, battered by the wild winds of life. It’s not the script they would have written.
When I get around them and hear their pain, I want to jump in and fix everything. You know, “Extreme ship makeover” or something like that. But life is messy because we live in a fallen world. It’s “unfixable” until Christ returns again.
But we can do as the islanders, and show unusual kindness. People won’t forget it, either.
Case in point: Thirty years ago, I was tossed on a lonely shore by Hurricane Grief. My parents died six months apart, and I spent most of the next year cleaning out their home and preparing it for sale. One week I faced the task of changing living room walls from “Robin’s Egg Blue” (my parents were creative!) to a neutral, more sale-friendly ivory. The almost-empty room seemed as big as a gym as my energies flagged.
Then a single nurse from the church I’d started attending called. Help paint? Sure, she could spare an afternoon. And she did—her compassion and joy lifting my spirits. Yes, thirty years later, I still remember it—as I do other times people have helped me through a personal storm with the unusual kindness of a card, phone call, visit, hug, prayers, meal or practical help.
Memories of unusual kindness stay with you. Count on it. And keep an eye on the clouds. When you least expect it, some needy people may wash up on your day, needing the compassion of Jesus Christ, expressed through your hands.
It’s the classic opening line for a mystery novel. Even the aspiring author-dog Snoopy (of Peanuts fame) used it as he tapped out his best-seller on a typewriter balanced on top of his doghouse.
But it really was a dark and stormy night when Acts 28 opened. With a famous prisoner (the apostle Paul) aboard, bound to appeal his case to Caesar in Rome, a sailing ship found itself on the wrong side of the sailing season. Violently tossed for two weeks in a horrendous storm (offering another meaning to “think green”), the ship finally ran aground and broke apart. Miraculously, all made it safely ashore. But no luxury hotel awaited (nor even a Red Cross shelter), only a beach battered by the cold rain.
Word quickly spread among the locals, and they rushed to help out, building a fire for the bone-cold survivors.
Stop a minute here to consider Acts 28:2: “The islanders showed us unusual kindness” (NIV. RSV). Other versions call it “no little kindness” (KJV), “extraordinary kindness” (NASB), “unusual and remarkable kindness” (Amplified). It’s easy to skim right over this benevolent beach scene and rush on to the Hollywood moment of the chapter: the apostle shaking a poisonous viper off his hand (2:3-6).
Unusual kindness. Luke, the writer of Acts, didn’t just say “we got help.” He commended these strangers for helping above and beyond.
My eighty-something friend Mary, a remarkable woman who leads Bible studies in senior facilities, brought that verse to my attention and got me thinking. All around us, people are suffering in spiritual storms. They’re tossed on a lonely beach, battered by the wild winds of life. It’s not the script they would have written.
When I get around them and hear their pain, I want to jump in and fix everything. You know, “Extreme ship makeover” or something like that. But life is messy because we live in a fallen world. It’s “unfixable” until Christ returns again.
But we can do as the islanders, and show unusual kindness. People won’t forget it, either.
Case in point: Thirty years ago, I was tossed on a lonely shore by Hurricane Grief. My parents died six months apart, and I spent most of the next year cleaning out their home and preparing it for sale. One week I faced the task of changing living room walls from “Robin’s Egg Blue” (my parents were creative!) to a neutral, more sale-friendly ivory. The almost-empty room seemed as big as a gym as my energies flagged.
Then a single nurse from the church I’d started attending called. Help paint? Sure, she could spare an afternoon. And she did—her compassion and joy lifting my spirits. Yes, thirty years later, I still remember it—as I do other times people have helped me through a personal storm with the unusual kindness of a card, phone call, visit, hug, prayers, meal or practical help.
Memories of unusual kindness stay with you. Count on it. And keep an eye on the clouds. When you least expect it, some needy people may wash up on your day, needing the compassion of Jesus Christ, expressed through your hands.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Wedding "Fireworks"
It started out like a normal wedding on June 27. The mother-of-the-bride (that’s me) had eyes that started “sweating” even as her son ushered her down the aisle. The three-year-old flower girl was cute-cute-cute as she flung petals along the aisle to the tune of “Humoresque.” The bride (my daughter Inga) glowed as she entered with her dad. The worship band and scripture readings kept the focus on God’s faithfulness.
But those of us who knew were waiting for the final act of the ceremony. After pronouncing the couple “man and wife,” the minister turned to the guests and explained about their unusual pledge. At the beginning of their public “courtship” and on through a year and a half engagement, this couple had established certain physical boundaries to honor the other’s purity. One was that they wouldn’t kiss until their wedding day.
Deep breath. Then, “Trevor, you may kiss your bride.”
We didn’t have to wait a week to the Fourth of July to witness some fireworks!
In an age in which promiscuity is rampant, even among Christian teens (including, sadly, those who made “abstinence” pledges marked with rings), it was a pure, sweet moment.
By the way, do you know the origin of the wedding kiss? Pagan cultures believed this was how the couple “exchanged spirits.” The first bridal bouquets were nosegays of fresh herbs that supposedly warded off evil spirits. The first wedding rings (braided grass wrapped around the bride’s wrists and ankles) supposedly kept her “spirit” from leaving her. More “spirit” stuff: guests clinked glasses in wedding toasts to ward off evil spirits. Carrying the bride over the threshold was supposed to keep her safe from any “evil spirits” lingering there.
Ready for more wedding trivia? The first “best man” was actually a warrior to help capture a likely woman from another tribe! The first bride’s attendants were partners in crime to help a bride escape her family and other suitors to run away with her choice of mate.
Despite all the strange beginnings of many wedding customs, one truth remains. One mother-of-the-bride shared how, between photo-taking and arrival of guests, she took her daughter to the doors leading into the sanctuary. As they looked at the cross at the front of church, the mother said, “Remember this day isn’t about you. It’s about Jesus.”
Amen.
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