I don't live there anymore

My husband pulled to the curb, turned off the motor, and let me just look for a minute. The house where I grew up in a western Washington town was still standing and well-maintained. I noticed an older woman at the kitchen window. I can almost imagine her worried whisper, “Honey, we’ve got strangers parked across the street staring at us. Think we ought to call the police?”

No, I was just wondering if the kitchen still had that very dated gray and blue checkered tile. If the beast of an oil furnace was still there, with a short clothesline across its sunken room for quick-dry laundry. If the hydrangea outside my bedroom window still bloomed. If the fixtures in the main bathroom were still that ghastly green. I wondered how she’d managed to arrange furniture around an awkwardly-placed corner fireplace.

But I didn’t live there any more. My last time in the house was 1979, the year after my parents died, when I emptied it and repainted the blue/pink/mint walls a neutral ivory in preparation for selling it.

My trip back to Memory Lane (actually, 13th Street) came as a result of attending a family funeral “back home”—that of my sister’s 101-year-old mother-in-law. Besides the home where I grew up, I also found the tiny rental where my family lived a few months after moving from southern California. I recalled how our front-loading washing machine galloped all over its laundry room during the spin cycle. Eventually, Mom planned her washing around times my dad was home to sit on it. As my husband drove between that house and the school I attended in third grade, he asked, “Your parents let you walk home alone this far?” How safety concerns have changed!

It was good to see the “old places” again. But one thing the trip “back home” reminded me of was how careful I need to be to not dwell on the past. I’ve experienced “stuckness” at times in my Christian walk, and I know it’s because I fail to turn problems and disappointments over to God, then seek a fresh start in His strength.

Something I read in a book by counselor Jan Silvious, Please Don’t Say You Need Me (Zondervan, 1989), applies so well to anybody’s spiritual walk. Silvious says her counselees often want to go over and over why they felt they were wronged, and get stuck there. Instead, she says, they need to “move on to forgiveness, healing, and the creation of a lifestyle” in which damaging perceptions and behaviors are left behind. The apostle Paul put it more succinctly in a verse I’ve claimed in moving away from hurts of the past: “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14). Jesus died to cover the past and to call me into a fresh and growing relationship with Him.

In other words, I don’t live in my “past life” any more. God doesn’t want me to stay stuck in old habits of blame and fear. He has new plans and joys for me if I’m willing to stretch out of comfort zones to discover them.

By the way, about twenty years ago on a family trip to Disneyland, we took a side trip to the suburb where I lived from infancy until third grade. The little two-bedroom was tidy, its front porch still painted brick red. But graffiti filled the neighborhood and my husband was nervous as I dashed out of the car for a quick photo in front of the house (that's photo at the top of this column). I’m thankful I don’t live there any more!

That date with destiny

Widespread mocking of Christians was the saddest result of the recent failed “end-of-world” prediction by an 89-year-old engineer-turned-preacher. The whole media-fueled ridicule reminded me of fears of crippling computer glitches when the century turned over to a new millennium a decade ago.

When I first heard of this person’s claim, I reviewed the Bible’s message about end times. Jesus’ disciples, too, wanted to know a date: “When will this happen, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” (Matt. 24:3). He answered in general terms: the coming of imposters, persecution, famines, earthquakes, betrayals, desecrations, deceptive messages of “He’s here,” and signs in the skies. He added that nobody, not even the angels, knows what date God has put on the universal calendar (v. 36). Those who “predict” are going against this very truth.

Instead of quitting our jobs, selling all, and waiting for the bullet train to eternity, we need to consider the counsel given another generation anxious for the world to end. It’s tucked into the letters Paul wrote believers in Thessalonica, who experienced so much persecution that they longed all the more for Heaven. Some were neglecting the daily tasks of going to work or maintaining a home, causing people to scorn Christians.

As that problem persisted, Paul wrote again against idleness. He reminded them that even as he preached among them, he worked day and night to pay for his own expenses (2 Thess. 3:9), probably following his trade as a tentmaker. He was also displeased that those who weren’t “busy” earning a living were becoming “busybodies” (v. 13).

There’s value in being reminded that Heaven has a clock that’s ticking down. Someday, the Lord will come again. For some, it will be like a dreaded pop quiz they didn’t prepare for--except infinitely agonizing. For others, it will a joyful time of fulfilled hope.

One of my dear friends prayed for years for her husband to become a Christian. Instead of badgering him, she treated him with respect and love. One day he agreed to come to church with her and there heard the message about Christ’s coming again. Matt. 24:40 especially pierced his heart: “Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left.” He didn’t want to be the one left, and accepted Christ into his life. Some godly friends in their nineties lived in an assisted living center. On their door was a sign revealing their hope of Jesus’ return: “Perhaps today.”

Both have now died, but the message is the same: Perhaps today. Perhaps not. But keep on doing what God commands: “Warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else. Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thess. 5:14-18).

Survival of the Floaters

How God builds your faith often comes down to ordinary experiences. Like a college swimming class.

The college I attended required, of all things, passing a swimming proficiency class for graduation. Most people just quickly splash up and down the pool and pass. But I’d never learned to swim, thanks to health issues as a child. I had an irrational fear of any water deeper than my waist.

Thankfully, the test began at the shallow end. When the instructor ordered us to swim, I attempted my best effort at swimming—one that might be described as tortured Dutch windmill.

“Sign up for Swimming 101,” the instructor told me. She means sign up for Faith-Stretch 101, I told myself.

I had only ten weeks to conquer my fears. By the ninth class week, the agony deepened.

“Today you learn to dive off the board,” the swim teacher announced. The board? Does she mean the plank at the deep end off which I will fall to my doom? I will spare you the details of my first straight-in dive to the utter bottom of the pool.

Still alive by the tenth week, I showed up for the final swimming exam. My classmates curled off the diving board like penguins slipping over an ice float for a frolic around the ocean. As they stroked the required three pool lengths, I took my fateful walk to the end of the plank, er, diving board. My life passed in front of me as I tried to remember the “how to dive” lesson. I sucked in a breath and jumped.

Surfacing for the compulsory crawl (aptly named, for me), I managed two more lengths with other “exhibit” swimming strokes. As I finished, the teacher nodded and mumbled something about how I might enjoy Swimming 102. I chose not to hear her. I was too busy thanking God for helping me get through Mission Impossible.

That quarter, I learned something more than treading water, diving, and the crawl. I also experienced how God could grow me by helping me accomplish something I thought was way beyond me. He specializes in “strength” and “protection” (2 Thess. 3:3). Even in this personal battle (small to others, big to me), God was ready to help me.

He’s continued to see me through lots harder things that I never signed up for, but that are a part of life. As a college freshman, I never imagined I’d be orphaned at 31, face joblessness, stay single until 34, or almost get killed by a drunk driver. At times, I’m sure my ability to trust God looked like that tortured Dutch-windmill stroke. But through prayer, trust in the Bible’s promises, and daily dependence on God, I got through it all.

I think that’s why Paul urged the folks at Thessalonica, “Never tire of doing what is right” (3:13). Even if we think we can’t do it, with God we can. And having God’s love and approval is a zillion times more exciting than the instructor’s nod that I passed Swimming 101!

Do me a savor

The gift wafted my way the other morning as I painted the deck at my late mother-in-law’s home that we’re fixing up. As I crawled across the weathered wood, paint pad in hand, I paused and smiled as the scent from her lilac bush came my way. Talk about a fragrance factory! This year it’s probably ten feet tall and just as wide, and heavy with blooms.

I couldn’t help but think of how the Bible describes true followers of Christ as a “fragrance” (“savor” in KJV) –the scent of life among those who believe, the stink of death among those who don’t (2 Cor. 2:15-16).

Paul’s use of a powerful olfactory comparison is even more amazing considering how much attention his culture usually paid to “fragrance.” Though the wealthy had baths and some scents (like myrrh) were expensive enough to be part of a dowry, they didn’t have our culture’s obsession with “clean” and “smelling nice.” If you haven’t thought about it, just stroll down the aisles of cleaners, soaps, shampoos, air fresheners, and candles. Then go to the hardware store and check out the shower heads and bath fixtures. Finally, go to a makeup counter and start counting the perfume brands!

I admit to lighting a fragrant candle at dinner, especially when I’ve cooked fish and broccoli (and you know how those smells linger in a house). But I’ve cut back to almost no perfume use—first out of deference to those who attend my church who have profound chemical sensitivities, and second, realizing I’m bothered at times myself. I was reminded of that the other Sunday when someone squeezed in beside me in the pew and her strong perfume was almost more than I could handle.

As I stroked paint on the deck timber, I thought about the “scent” to which Paul referred—that intangible quality of living for Christ. Even among believers there’s a broad variety of “scents” that mingle when we get together. A quiet, peaceful essence emanates from an older, godly woman who’s passionate about prayer and encouragement. A sense of true caring surrounds another person who quietly goes about doing good. Someone who is humble yet wise spreads another Christ-fragrance—not overwhelming, but definitely there.

I thought of negative scents, too. Some are like the notorious Titan Arum, a huge, fast-growing plant native to Indonesia that blooms for about three days every six or seven years. It emits a stench reportedly like rotting meat or garbage. Its spiritual counterparts are described throughout the Bible, but 2 Timothy 3 has a significant list of spiritual stench that starts out: “lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful….” Of such people, it’s easy to say, “Their attitude stinks.”

Instead, I’d rather focus on Jesus and His love, grace, truth, and hope. He is the lily of the valley, the rose of Sharon, the fragrance I want in my life.

What is your favorite floral fragrance? Some of the most scent-sational of the plant kingdom are roses, orchids, gardenias, night-blooming jasmine, and honeysuckle. Any more nominations?

Lessons from a floral flunkout

I had high hopes for an amaryllis bulb my husband bought before Christmas. I planted the bulb according to instructions, and gave it the water and sunlight recommended. Grudgingly, it sent out its leaves, but never a stem or a bloom. Sadly, I nurtured a floral flunkout. It didn’t even produce one brilliant trumpet flower to cheer our dining table on those gray winter days. So recently I withheld water and let it go dormant, curling up its wilted, yellowed leaves for storage.

I thought of how this plant is like people who plod through life with an attitude of ingratitude. They have so much potential, but they choose to dwell on the negative and never bloom for God.

In saying that, I am aware that when I point my index finger at someone’s neediness, three of my fingers are pointing back at me. I need to regularly examine my heart for ingratitude and confess it to God, asking Him to help me change that behavior: “Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults. Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me” (Psalm 19:12).

In her book Choosing Gratitude (Moody, 2009), Nancy Leigh DeMoss spoke to this issue. She said we are prone to expect a lot from others and life and, no matter how much we get, it’s never enough. She adds: “Needing God but not always wanting God, we expect others to take the place of God in our lives, depending on them to guide our decisions, to love us unconditionally, to provide for us emotionally, physically, socially, totally.” Inevitably, she adds, people will disappoint us. Instead of turning to God, grateful for His faithfulness in meeting our needs, we let “those unfulfilled expectations…turn to resentment that poisons our hearts and relationships” (p. 53).

In other words, we become like a stubborn, bloomless amaryllis. We don’t do what God created us to do: honoring Him in the work place or in raising a family, serving Him in the strength of spiritual gifts, and being His channels of love to the hurting.

I’ll tuck my dead bulb in a shed for another year, and give it another chance next year. That’s what God does for us. He gives us second chances when we’ve gotten muddled in failures and ingratitude. For years I’ve cherished this passage about God’s desire for us to claim fresh starts: “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:18-19).

The Power of One

One lone tulip popped from a planter I loaded with bulbs last fall. I don’t know whether to rejoice over the one survivor or decide my green thumb carries the black plague. I’m not enough of a gardener to know what went wrong, but I do know one is better than none.

That got me thinking about “the power of one.” I did an internet search and found quite a few sites devoted to that slogan. Then I opened my Bible concordance (the one thick enough for a baby booster seat at the dinner table--wrapped in a towel, of course!). There I ran across about 1,000 references to the number “one.”

I could think of even more where “one” was implied, like the book of Esther. It reveals the power of God through one young woman, chosen to be the number one queen, who did one difficult thing to save one displaced nation condemned through the actions of one evil man.

Some others that came to mind:
“The one thing needed” (Luke 10:42) was Mary’s choice in sitting at the feet of Jesus.
One thing was lacking in the life priorities of the rich young man, who couldn’t bring himself to give away all he had to the poor (Luke 18:22).
One child offered up his lunch to feed 5,000 (told in all four Gospels).
One leper returned to thank Jesus for his healing—and he was a Samaritan who, presumably, lacked the finesse of gratitude (Luke 17:11-19). (Ouch! How many of us fail to thank Jesus for all He has done?)
Committing one sin is as bad as breaking the whole law (James 2:10). But by the sacrificial death of One, we are redeemed (Romans 5:19).
“There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called—one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” (Ephesians 4:4-6)
There is one God and one mediator, Christ jesus (1 Timothy 2:5).
One day is as a thousand years to God. The impatient early Christians (and we, too) needed this reminder (2 Peter 3:8). One day Christ is coming again!

My lone tulip bloom, besides reminding me of biblical powers of “one,” also stirred up disturbing thoughts. What of the other tulips that just sent out foliage? They’re not doing what God intended them to do, and that’s bloom. How often am I failing to bloom for God? With what useless activities to I fill my hours? There’s a lot of truth in old poem that adorned many wall plaques (including one belonging to my late mother-in-law): “Only one life, ‘twill soon be soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.”

Easter Sunday Psalm-Drive

Photo: daffodils blooming in my neighbor's yard. I grew up in Puyallup, Wash., famed for its "Daffodil Festival." Besides a daffodil's bright yellow beauty, I love its "trumpet" shape, so appropriate for proclaiming this promise of our own resurrection: "The trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed" (1 Cor. 15:52).

In my childhood, when gas wasn’t so expensive, my father enjoyed taking the family on a Sunday afternoon drive. Even on familiar roads, we’d discover a new sight. Occasionally, my husband does the same thing. Our favorite spring route winds through orchards and foothills with astonishing patches of wildflowers.

My repeat journeys through the book of Psalms are something like those drives. I have no idea how many times I’ve read that book. I do know the edges of its pages are well-thumbed, with notes and underlining on every page. Yet I still discover new things.

Often when I come back to a psalm, I remember when it previously connected to a life challenge or event. I personalized Psalm 18 in a time of great anxiety and need. I was 32 at the time and still single. My parents had recently died just six months apart. I’d interrupted my master’s degree studies to return home and settle their affairs and empty their home. While it sat unsold, I returned to graduate school and finished that degree. I was near the end of my personal savings and could not find a job in my field. Going “home” was no longer an option. My parents’ still-empty home was 2,000 miles away. I needed to vacate my college housing by the end of July.


My desperate prayers reminded God of scriptural promises to take care of widows (and single women, like me, I hoped), orphans (my parents were gone) and aliens (I was just a temporary resident of this college town). One morning in my personal devotions I read through Psalm 18. Many verses became prayers: “I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise” (v. 3). “He rescued me because he delighted in me” (v.19). “To the faithful you show yourself faithful” (v. 25).

As I walked to the block-away college track to jog, squirrels cavorted in the old trees along the sidewalk. I thought of verse 33: “He makes my feet like the feet of a deer” (the poetic “hind’s feet” in old translations), referring to the strength and agility of deer in mountainous terrain. This time, however, I adjusted it to the prayer that God would make my feet like the agile feet of squirrels flinging among the branches. I needed His strength and miracle to get through these difficult circumstances.

God did answer my prayers, just in time, that last week of college housing. A failed interview at one large institution opened the door to an interview at a sister company, and a job offer there. Plus, the boss arranged for me to have temporary housing with one of his employees. Because I had no car, she drove out and got me and my few belongings, and took me home with her. For several months, until I could afford to live on my own, I slept on a mattress on the floor. Yet even this was of God, and how He “brought me out into a spacious place” (Psalm 18:19).

Other portions of that psalm reminded me of the awesome power and character of God. But I recently realized how much deeper I could go in understanding it. Bible teacher William MacDonald (1917-2007), in his Believer’s Bible Commentary, said this is really a psalm about Easter and the power that raised Jesus from the dead. Psalm 18:49 is quoted in Romans 15:9 as referring to Christ. MacDonald comments: “Nowhere else in the Bible are we given such a vivid account of the tremendous battle that took place in the unseen world at the time of our Savior’s resurrection.”

May I suggest reading and meditating on Psalm 18 this Easter? Some sections to consider, as broken down by MacDonald:
1-3: Praise to God.
4-6: Christ’s dying.
7-15: Celestial war against evil.
16-19: Victory in the resurrection.
20-30: The raising of the sinless One.
31-42: Christ’s second coming.
43-45: Christ’s reign.
46-50: Closing praise.
For your own closing praise, consider speaking back to God the doxology of Romans 11:33-36 which begins: “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!"