Caged In

Just as I expected, the rooster exhibit at the local county fair was the noisiest place on the grounds. Well, maybe second noisiest after the carnival rides at their busiest. I can’t blame them. When you’re used to strutting all over the barnyard, it’s total indignity to be confined to a cage next to other roosters bent on out-crowing you.


I snapped a photo because I was immediately reminded of times in my life when I felt confined by negative circumstances and probably "crowed" too loud about it. I’ve learned that accepting hardship is part of how I mature as a Christian and am shaped into readiness for my future home in Heaven. And it’s more than passive “acceptance.” It’s grabbing hold of those negatives and making positives of them.

Probably no Bible character illustrates that better for me than the apostle Paul, especially in his letter to the Philippians, written while he imprisoned in Rome (Acts 28:16-31). This was a hard thing for a “controller” who liked his space. Yet instead of saying, “I hate being stuck here by these stinky circumstances,” Paul said, “What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel” (Philippians 1:12). He was praising God for his “captive audience”—the Roman soldiers chained to him who couldn’t escape hearing his testimony. He was praising God that his witness emboldened other believers. He was thankful that God was using his negative circumstances to bring glory to Christ.

Peel back another layer of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, told in Acts 16, and there’s a even more amazing story. Paul had just been trudging through Asia, preaching about Jesus, when he had a vision to “come over to Macedonia,” meaning a whole linguistic and cultural jump. He and his companion Silas ended up in Philippi, a leading city in that area, and after getting their land legs, decided to worship somewhere, as it was the Sabbath. Philippi didn’t have enough Jewish men to form a synagogue, so they ended up down at the river with some women who met for prayer. Paul wasn’t “caged in” by expectations of what a church should be. If that was God’s place for him to start, he’d start. He didn’t say, “I don’t know anybody” or “What if they reject me?” He chatted with Lydia, a seller of luxury purple cloth, and led her to Christ.

Soon after came opposition. Paul cast an annoying evil spirit out of a slave girl, ending her fortune-telling business for her owners. He and Silas were seized by a mob, then taken by local police who stripped, beat and flogged them, then put them in stocks in prison. They didn’t sit in a funk, but in that stinky hole began praising God in front of their “captive audience” of other prisoners and the jailer in charge. Then came a violent earthquake—and many prisoners escaped. But not Paul and Silas, who kept the jailer from committing suicide and led him to faith in Christ.

And this remarkable story (think what Hollywood could do with it!) was the background of Paul’s comment as he began his letter, “I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now” (Phil. 1:5). The “first day” (and week) were chock-full of negatives! Then they were literally caged in, their feet in stocks in the inner part of the filthy prison. But Paul remembered it with joy. It wasn’t the ideal script he would have written, but He trusted God to work through all the negatives.

All of that from hearing the cacophony of crowing at the fair? Well, yes. God can use anything to remind us of His truth. He used a donkey for Balaam, a whale for Jonah and, that day, a rooster for me.

Swine Time

There’s nothing like the pig pen at the county fair to slap a smile on your face. Though not super-models, but you can be sure they’ve been washed, shaved and otherwise beautified for their “showing” and hopefully a ribbon. But nothing—not even the caricature of “beautiful” that Muppet “Miss Piggy” brought to pig-dom—can eradicate the basic “pig”-ness of pigs. Turn ‘em back to the pen at home and they’ll roll in the first available mud to cool off. And snort. Their vocals aren’t exactly on par with meadowlarks.

I’m not a farm girl, but I’ve heard some make great pets. But they’re still pigs (or “swine”), and a breath away from a grocery ad illustration.

In the Bible, swine had a much more unsavory reputation. Declared “unclean” and unfit to eat, only non-Jews (or bad Jews) raised them. The “unclean” ruling was God’s way of keeping the Jews healthy in those days of primitive medicine. Pigs often carried trichina worms which passed on to humans in undercooked meat. The larvae infected major organs and muscles, making people very sick.

To keep things simple, God told the people to just leave ham (and other disease-bearing living things) out of their diets. Thus they acquired the reputation as loathsome creatures. That provides the background for a little proverb tucked into Proverbs 11 between two verses about the righteous and the wicked:

Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion (Proverbs 11:22).

In those days, the women often wore gold nose rings along with other jewelry as their “on-board” savings account. If a woman was widowed or abandoned, she at least had the jewelry attached to her body as an insurance policy. I’m not sure I’d want a nose ring, but in those days it was part of the beauty code. Except, you didn’t honor a pig with a nose ring. Slop and mud would soon coat it.

The contrast is the message. A woman may know how to dress, apply makeup, and do her hair in the latest style. But if her attitude stinks, that won’t make up for the best perfume. If what comes out of her mouth is negatives or profanity, that will cancel any other words. Externals don’t cover for the internals of godly character. Or, as the writer put it a few verses earlier, “A kind-hearted woman gains respect” (v. 16).

Turning over a few pages to Psalm 31, we’re given a get the bigger picture of what makes a godly woman tick. I’ve read it over and over, and I can’t see anything that puts “looks” first. In fact, after praising her industriousness and compassion, it ends up, “charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (v. 20).

That encourages aging women like me whose faces now nurture wrinkles and whiskers. At least some of those wrinkles are smile marks from checking out the pig pen at the fair. I know I could have even more laugh lines as I learn how, like Mrs. Perfect in Proverbs 31, to “laugh at the days to come” (v. 25).

Besides, with all my allergies, a nose ring would be a nuisance.

Tested by fire

Choke, cough, wheeze—right now the valley where I live is enveloped in a thick, smoky haze, no thanks to multiple nearby fires that have blackened thousands of acres. The sun, gauzed by the smoke, rises and sets as a crimson globe. Health officials have deemed the pollution level as “hazardous” and are urging people to stay inside, if possible. Schools are even keeping children in at recess. As an asthmatic, I’m staying inside, close to an air purifier.


The fires started Saturday night with an intense thunderstorm that lit up the sky and pounded us with half hour of rain. When we drove to church Sunday, already smoke was boiling into the sky up a canyon just a few miles away. Within a few days, flames had crept across foothills within a mile of our home. The fire encircled the home of friends, who had wisely put a wide perimeter of gravel around it.

Winds blew the fire away from our neighborhood, but the flames continue to eat at scrublands of sage brush and dry grasses, plus parched timberlands. As I pray for the firefighters, I’m also reminded that fires can cleanse diseased lands. Unfortunately, when they’re in populated areas, they’re unwelcome.

Fire is also a powerful spiritual analogy. One comes up in 1 Corinthians 3:11-15, which talks about Jesus Christ being the only certain foundation. What we build on that foundation must past God’s test at Judgment Day. At that time, the lasting influence of peoples’ choices will be revealed. Some will have used the spiritual equivalent of gold, silver or costly stones; others, wood, hay and straw.

That passage doesn’t specify what activities are enduring and what aren’t. But maybe this is a good question to ask: “Does this work or activity have the ultimate end of honoring and serving God, or is it rooted in boredom, selfishness or personal indulgence?”

I think about that as I find “indoor” activities for my time. I’m editing some articles and blogs, and cutting up fabric scraps for more baby blankets for the hospital. And as I look out at the haze, those “arrow prayers” go up for the men and women fighting the hot monsters in my area.

Looking up



My mother painted this version of Mount Rainier for
me in 1978, the year she died of cancer. It's
much like the view of Tipsoo Lake at the
top of Chinook Pass, mentioned in this blog.

 Someone stopped by the house the other day and began anxiously lamenting all the negatives in world news. “Is God still on the throne?” I chided. Every generation will have its negatives, some of which seem to be hurtling our planet toward self-destruction. When worry about these things tries to slither into my heart, I find I need to go back to Psalm 121:

I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.

This psalm had its greatest impact in my life when I was 32, making numerous trips over Washington’s Cascades Mountains to my sister’s home in Eastern Washington. I was temporarily living in our deceased parents’ home in Western Washington while cleaning it out as part of estate settlement. The four-hour trip included a true apex. At the top of Chinook Pass, I came upon a stunning view of snow-capped Mount Rainier, elevation 14,410 feet.

Often I’d be mulling over my problems and challenges as I drove. But when that mountain came in view, reminding me of God’s power and purity, I got an attitude adjustment. Though I didn’t know how He’d do it, I could trust God for the troubling unknowns I faced.

The Israelites didn’t have Mount Rainier, but they did have Mount Zion, the “big hill” on which Jerusalem was built along the ridge called the “Judean Hills.” The temple hill was Jerusalem’s focus, and in those days the “glory cloud” that signified God’s presence hovered over the Holy of Holies. When they looked to the hills, they had this bright, inexplicable floating mass to remind them that God dwelled among them. Who could be more powerful than the Maker of heaven and earth?

He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

Let me tell you about a “foot slip”! Mine on an icy stairwell changed my life and the anatomy of my ankle. Though the broken bones healed, the arthritis there now is a great barometer for weather changes! But in this case, the psalmist is saying God is the ultimate security. He wants to help us over life’s rocky places. Unlike human guards, who are apt to doze off, He’s on constant alert on our behalf.

The Lord watches over you—the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

Most Bible teachers connect these verses to demonic religions that deify the sun and moon. In that context, this verse is a reminder that God is greater than that. First John 4:4 emphasizes: “The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”

The Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

This doesn’t mean that nothing bad will happen to us. Instead, nothing will come into our lives apart from God’s permissive will. Bible teacher Kay Arthur often remarks that whatever happens is “filtered through fingers of love” (As Silver Refined, Waterbrook, p. 130). To pull from Romans 8:28, these things happen according to God’s purpose.

God’s enduring care for us shines through the last four words: “both now and forevermore.” His watch-care never ends.

The Bible predicts a cataclysmic end to the world. I don’t know what that will involve. Maybe Mount Rainier will collapse! But I know I don’t need to worry about it. God cares about every detail of my life and will help me through whatever is ahead. And someday, I won’t look unto the hills for inspiration. I’ll look unto the Throne, from whence came my help, and offer all the praise I can muster.

Lost and found

Oh, the things that people lose at church! Bibles, and more Bibles. Copious numbers of coats, caps, and casserole pans. Pacifiers and mouth guards. Planners that didn’t get planned in. Journals that journeyed out of sight.


At least once a year, usually twice, my church displays the lost wares that are normally tucked out of sight in a cabinet marked “lost and found.” People whose names are inscribed inside Bibles are contacted. Some come retrieve them, some don’t.

If my Bible got lost, I’d be turning every pew upside down to find it. It’s full of devotional and sermon notes. I’d really, really miss it.

In thinking about our lost-and-found table, I considered the Bible's stories about lost things. Four are slotted into the Gospel of Luke, right after another:

*Salt that has lost its flavor (Luke 14:34-35). In Bible times, salt didn’t come in the pure crystalline form we have for table salt. It included impurities that remained as residues in the bottom of salt containers. The analogy is people who start out seeming to be the “real thing” as Christians, but they’re really like the disgusting powders at the bottom of the jar.

*Lost sheep (15:3-7). How many of us can identify with the one lost sheep that the Shepherd risked all to bring back?

*Lost coin (15:8-10). My tendency to misplace things increases as I age, so I feel for this poor woman who’d lost what was probably part of her dowry and insurance in old-age. But the truth here is more like the Campus Crusade evangelistic slogan of a recent decade: “I found it,” “it” being a life-changing relationship with Christ. No wonder Heaven is throwing a party!

*Lost son (15:11-32). Two sons were really lost: one to his materialistic folly, and one to his anger and resentment. One found forgiveness through repentance.

That parable makes me think about things I should be losing, like resentment when somebody else got the breaks. Resentment is not of God. Pass the trash can.

Some other things worth losing: Love for the world’s fads and trinkets, love of pleasure, and love of being admired. John nailed them with this description: “the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life” (1 John 2:16 KJV).

Things I don’t want to lose:

*A love for God’s Word: “Oh how I love your law” (Psalm 119:97).

*Patience. (Anybody else on this one?)

*The sense of awe regarding our holy God.

*The amazement that Christ would die for me.

*My ministry passion.

*My testimony.

Oh, yes: my Bible. After so many years of use and markings, it’s an old friend. Not irreplaceable, of course, but still personalized for me. So far, I’ve kept it off the lost-and-found table. However, when my aging tendency to forget or misplace things causes a few moments of panic, my husband’s been known to say, “We’re in for a ride!”

“For better, for worse,” I retort, “and don’t you forget that!”

Living Looser

Our two kids were both in college when I sent them this doctored-up photo of their parents. How better to “lighten up” the pain of paying for college?

Though my personality runs to the serious side of the spectrum, I’ve found balance in letting humor seep from the seams. Even back in my scholar personality of high school, I self-appointed myself to spiff up the music room’s stale bulletin board with a page of jokes and cartoons, purportedly published by the BBBBBBC (Building Better Boring Band Bulletin Boards Committee).

Enter marriage and motherhood, and humor was a parental survival tactic. It was also one way to help build well-rounded children. Here are some of the things we did.

*Be imperfect. Our kids heard their parents laughing about their mistakes. Mine involved their dad’s new white tennis shoes for teaching elementary physical education. They’d gotten muddy, so one morning I tossed them in the “dark” wash load. They emerged pink, thanks to some new red pants in the same load. His foible as a life-long fisherman: flinging out a long cast with his favorite rod and reel and accidentally letting go of them. Plunk.

*Be imaginative. Our kids’ best toys came in a box that we filled…with yardage remnants, wigs, shawls, funky glasses, hats, allergy masks, old nightgowns and yard-sale costumes. Called the “dress-up box,” it aided hours of creative play. While the kids were still little, at Christmas we re-enacted the Nativity story with the kids as the key characters, Dad as the donkey and Mom multi-tasking the extra roles. Another box held hand puppets (found at yard sales and thrift stores) that starred in original puppet shows behind a “couch” stage.

*Be irrational. Sometimes we changed the rules, like having dessert before dinner, or having the kids be “cook” and “waiter” for guests Mom and Dad at the kitchen table. Over milk and crackers, the parents hammed it up with atrocious manners like talking with food in our mouths, using fingers instead of forks, and arguing over who got the biggest portion. We called it “teachable moments” as the kids saw their own bad habits.

*Be interactive. Playing together included charades with Bible characters (Samson flexed his muscles and combed his hair, bent-over Sarah swaddled a baby). On long car trips it meant add-on stories (“There once was a weary mother who…”) and alphabet drills (F my name is Felix, and I live in Farmington and sell frankfurters). And yes, besides letting the kids play “fort” with sofa cushions, chairs and lots of sheets and blankets, we actually crammed a tent into the living room for a “camp-in.”

*Be infamous. Celebrate being “normal” and prone to funny stuff. We had “code names” for hilarious family events. “Eagles” recalled the zoo trip to see raptor birds and Mom getting disgusting “plops” in her hair while she stood under a tree for shade. “TP Streamers” coded a bare-bottomed 18-month-old streaking out of the bathroom with a lengthening stream of toilet paper in hand. We also started a “Funny File” notebook where we pasted all those too-close-to-home cartoons retired from tenure on the family refrigerator.

Trust me, a sense of humor can defuse some not-so-fun experiences. One afternoon a split scalp from a fall sent me to the emergency room. Home again with the wound stapled shut, I found my teens unusually solicitous in offering me ice and an afghan while I rested in my recliner. Later, after much behind-the-bedroom-door giggling, they presented me with a get-well card in which they’d expressed their love and kisses with X’s and O’s--created with a desk stapler.

Nothing to crow about



Crow atop a fast food business

 Wherever you find road-kill, you probably find crows or ravens. Big, black, and raucous, they have a party that clears the refreshment table. Oh yes, they prefer “carrion,” not carry-out. (Sorry about the pun.) They apparently flunked Singing Class at Bird School, as I wouldn’t call their cawing “pretty.”

Even in the Bible, they were the “hoods” of the neighborhood. Unlike the sweet little sparrows that nested in the nooks of the temple, they weren’t known for good manners. Although Elijah was fed by such birds during his hideout time at the brook Cherith from King Ahab, to do so was against their natural inclinations. By instinct, they would have gobbled the food samples faster than a starved shopper at Costco. This, like Elijah’s other instant meals at the cave in the desert, was a miracle.

Another verse in the Bible that camps on their nasty behavior is a curious one in Proverbs about parents and children. I scratched my head over it many times until I started to do some investigating: “The eye that mocks a father, that scorns obedience to a mother, will be pecked out by the ravens of the valley, will be eaten by the vultures” (Proverbs 30:17).

Whatever did this gory verse mean? For eyes to be pecked out meant the body was left to scavenger birds. One Bible teacher noted that the Jews took dishonoring the family seriously. It was a disgrace to die violently and be denied a decent burial. Another said this connects to verse 11, which talks of “those who curse their fathers and do not bless their mothers, those who are pure in their own eyes.” In other words, they think they know it all and are beyond fault. Still another Bible teacher said the pecked-out eye referred to the inability to look at another with full and transparent attention.

I’ll leave it to question-and-answer time in Heaven to fully understand this verse. But I think it harkens back to one of the ten basic laws of life that God gave thousands of years ago: “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12).

My parents both died, of cancer and a heart attack, the year I was 31. In my twenties, as I transitioned out of adolescence and into responsible adulthood, I tried to honor them with words of appreciation and practical help. I tried not to take them for granted. I wanted them to see they’d successfully launched me into life as I pursued a career and served God through my church.

It’s dysfunctional families that this proverb addresses, and I pray for several families suffering in this way. And now, thanks to the word picture in Proverbs 30:17, I have an extra reminder to pray—whenever I hear that grating, annoying bird caw.