A Mother's Love

My heart is so heavy, I don't know how I will ever rest again. How can I sleep when all my hopes, my expectations for my family's future have been dashed to the ground? We'll be laughing-stocks; no one will respect any of us again. And why? Oh, God, how can I bear this? The sweet taste of honey in my mouth is replaced by bitter gall. The pain of childbirth is nothing compared to this. No more joy, the future holds nothing but heartbreak for me. 

Childbirth. Ah, that pain was tempered by anticipation of joy. Besides, there would be an end to it. Not like this pain, which will pursue me until death and beyond. No ointment, no opium can still it.Such hope, such celebration, to finally give birth to my darling girl. Such companionship we would share as she grew. I would teach her all those things a Godly woman must know, all the skills she would need to run her own household someday. I would receive honor through all her successes, all the wisdom and good works she would accomplish throughout her life which loomed brightly ahead.

God! How dare you repay my reverence with such betrayal? The wicked should be punished, yes, but your faithful servant should be esteemed by those around her, should receive the reward she is due. Why did you not send a lightning bolt through my heart and finish my suffering? Do you really expect me to carry my head high as I travel through the community, to continue to be an example of purity and loyalty to the other women in church? Who would listen to anything I say now? Why would they believe I know anything worth their attention? They turn their eyes away from me now as I pass them in the street, they avoid speaking comforting words to me. 

All the hours I spent on my knees in prayer, all the hours in community service in your name, wasted! I could have taken my ease at home rather than working until my back cried out, my legs turned to jelly, with a sweet smile still on my lips, gladly helping others in times of trouble, dispensing encouraging words to the heartbroken. Where is my comfort, my help, my encouragement?  Look to the Lord", I'd say. "We may not see until eternity why these things happen, but we must trust that He knows best." Trust! Such piety. My own words reproach me, lie in my belly like a cold fire. Perhaps faith is only there when you give it away; maybe it's not something you can keep and count on. All is lost.

Even my own husband is silent. There's no comfort there. He tries to go on as though the world had not ended, but when our eyes meet, I'm scalded by the reproach I see. I have failed as a mother, as a woman. It's difficult for him too; I know that full well. But these things are a mother's responsibility, guilt adds to my burden. Besides, men don't feel things as deeply as women do, despite their protests to the contrary. If they did, they couldn't go about their business as usual, they would collapse at home behind closed doors. Like me.

She was a happy, loving child, well-behaved and obedient. She would follow her older cousin around constantly; they played at being grown up with dolls for children as they practiced the skills they didn't realize they were learning -- they thought it was only fun. Then her cousin began to grow up, sooner than my darling child, and began to spend her time with a young man destined to lead a worship group in a little town some distance away.

When they married, I was concerned at the loneliness I saw on my child's disconsolate face. But her sunny disposition soon reappeared through the clouds of grief caused by loss of her playmate and she began going out to play again, alone. When she came in after hours of play, she would run to me and tiptoeing, would embrace me, hugging and kissing a greeting. Before much longer, she was as tall as I; her kisses fell on my brow instead of my chin. Her countenance grew in beauty; in her presence I felt a peaceful happiness, a satisfaction that she was growing up and would in such a short time, become a charming young woman. My heart would give a little lurch as I realized she would not forever reside within arm's reach but would some day soon look forward to a home of her own, a husband and children to care for  --like her dear cousin, who finally had a child coming, after long years of waiting.

I would rather my own child had died in my womb and I would have gladly missed those joyful years of proudly watching her grow up, rather than live to see her hopes dashed to the ground, our hearts broken, along with any future happiness she may have hoped for.   

All the sacrifices we made, all our love, our efforts to raise her -- as was our responsibility, understand. This was our duty under God's law, not a gift to her, not something she was required to repay (except the honor any child owed to her parents under God's same law). We were repaid, but not with honor or respect. In return, we received grief, regret, shame and she could not even explain to us how or why we were so betrayed. She said she was bound to secrecy (as though any promise to another could take precedence over her loyalty toward her parents). She said we would understand in time. But when?

We had no choice but to agree to her hasty marriage to this man -- this man, years older than she, who should have known better, who should have realized she was too young to understand the repercussions of such behavior. Oh, we did everything right, the wedding party included all the best people, all the refreshments; the decorations were as fine as money could buy. The guests came, ate and drank, tittered or giggled behind their hands when they thought we couldn't see or hear, watched my beloved daughter and her new husband and nudged one another, whispering. They made sure we knew they weren't taken in by our masquerade of apparent celebration of the nuptials. They slyly slipped in snide questions with their congratulations, such as why had we not waited until she was older; surely if it were true love, he would have waited for her. Our heads held high, we ignored the stabbing pain of their jibes and looked at the innocent (what irony) gaze of our daughter into the uneasy eyes of her bridegroom. He knew, if she did not, what their lives would be like.

I was relieved when a short time later he came to us, saying he must make a long business trip and his wife would travel with him. It might be, I thought, that he was looking for employment possibilities there and they could start over where no one would know of their unsavory beginning. To be fair, he had been a loving husband and treated her very tenderly; he provided for her every need and reassured her, bringing a smile back to her face, whenever she became fearful or felt poorly because of the pregnancy. She was so young!

She bravely waved and smiled her farewells as she rode away. Who knew when we'd see her again, if ever? So many things could happen with a first baby, such a young mother, and so far away from any women in her family who could see her through this time and help her after the birth. It wasn't wise to travel so late in her term; I was uneasy though I knew it was best if the baby were born far away from the gossips and tattle-tales of our small town. Oh God, help her. Help my child through this difficult time. Keep her safe, hold her future ---  

Yes, in spite of my grief, my anger, I can't withhold my prayers. God is. He won't disappear just because I keep silent and ignore him. In the scriptures it tells how King David cried out angrily over his hardships, his troubles, yet it says God called him a "man after his own heart". I never understood that, but I guess God doesn't hold grudges when we blame him for our pain. 

Light from my window. Have I truly lain here awake all night? My ears! What is that humming sound; it grows louder. And the light! Surely the sun never shone like this before. Surely it will explode and the world with it; that will end my sorrow.

Her face, my darling daughter's face in the midst of that unearthly glow. The baby! She's holding her child and I see her tender gaze as she nuzzles that downy little head. Oh, I remember that first sight of my own dear child. And behind her, other faces like none ever seen, radiant and joyful and singing, they're singing of great joy, peace come into this world with that child. Whispers of sorrows ahead but promises that she won't have to go through them alone, that God is with them, this family, this daughter who once belonged to me.

I'm on my knees, Lord, hands reaching toward the warmth of this brilliance filling my room. I will weep no more. Hail Mary, full of grace. Blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

How to Recover Your Lost Good Humor

              Comes a time when there’s no sunshine in your day? Sometimes the arrival of a hangnail seems like the final blow that tips you over and you find yourself alone and hating your sole companion and you began to wonder why anyone cares about you (or if anyone does). Usually this crash comes along when I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself. Maybe, like me, you’ve recently been cruising on auto pilot and found yourself  thinking too much about Number One instead of those around you.

            Even those giants mentioned in the Bible fresh from some spectacular history-making event often followed that spiritual high with depression, fears and loss of confidence. Shouldn’t that little detail give us a clue as to the origin of our own self-pity? It’s not our fault these rushes of self-pity strike. We do have a powerful enemy who hates it when we have a good day, an effective day when we behave like one of God’s children. As they say, “You can’t stop a bird from flying over your head, but you don’t have to let it build a nest in your hair”.  In other words, don’t adopt the little fellow; shoo him away!

            One way to locate the express track to joy and exit the bumpy road you travel alone is hard to do. Let’s face it. A solo pity-party takes concentration; you have no energy to worry about anyone else’s surgery when you’ve just suffered through a blister on your heel, but just for a minute, let’s make the effort. In fact, make a list of people you care about, then people you know and those you see along the way and look for a hint of some problem they may be wrestling that might (admit it now!) be bigger than those you’re facing. Stop right there and breathe a prayer for that person and if that isn’t too big a shock to your system (your realization that your problems aren’t unbearable), try to think of something you could do to help.

            I guarantee you won’t feel like an insignificant loser when your mind is on someone else instead of your mirror. You may surprise yourself by beginning to count your blessings. And remember to stay on the narrow, bumpy path instead the crowded highway leading nowhere good. Above all, remember you’re not travelling alone. Thank you, Jesus

Love is . . . .

Love is . . . .

Some people say ‘love is never having to say I’m sorry”. Maybe this sounds like it would ease your conscience—never holding you responsible for harmful things said or done.                                             

Yet shouldn’t we be held responsible for our actions? Words are cheap. True love should want to ease any pain caused, not expect the loved one to swallow disappointment at our casual disregard, as well as to absorb the pain from our original hurtful deed.

True love will want those we to feel our love, not the pain we may carelessly cause them, knowing we will have their back in time of trouble and will share joy whenever possible. True love won’t leave them wondering whether we will prove to be a fair weather friend.

What we do speaks the truth from our hearts; what we say should do the same.            

            1 Corinthians 13:1-8 says:                                                                                                                       If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am 

            only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy

             and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that
            can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I 

            possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, 

            but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It doe

            not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it 

            is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

            Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  Love bears all 

            things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

            Love never fails.

 What does the Bible tell me to do if I realize I have done or said something wrong or hurtful? For the well-being of my eternal spirit I must abide by God’s directions.  Some see the conscience as a square wheel revolving inside our hearts; If overwhelmed by our repeated acts of non-love, the corners get worn down and cease to prick our heart as it revolves within and thus no longer remind us to change and grow.             

If I am my Father’s child, I must love others, for our God is love. He has been called by many names: Creator, Father, Savior, All-Powerful Supreme Ruler of All There Is; we could say, since He is also author of unsurpassed love, Love is God

The Closet Test

There are many ways to describe our relationship with our God. Depending on the day, one may seem to apply more than another.

Sometimes, I try to visualize the God-shaped hole that would exist in my spirit if I had never invited Him into my heart, my life and my future. I find it difficult to imagine the depth of barren aloneness because I met the Lord very young: at age 7 and have long been aware of His presence and never felt completely alone. I find it difficult to imagine threading my way through all the threats of this world without His security.

One common image for me is that of a child, clutching tightly the hand of my Father; occasionally despite warnings of danger ahead, breaking “free” and running into traffic and feeling relieved and incredibly safe when gathered into His arms, safe once more.

As I grew and learned more of this world and my place in it, I felt like a child arrayed in Daddy’s shoes, dragging His briefcase, as though I struggled with important business. And there are days I feel like a disobedient child, hiding, dreading His discipline, which is never as bad as the feeling of fear beforehand.

When up to my ears in problems, swatting at the many gnats and wolves from our enemy Satan distracting me from my purpose in life—whether from a hangnail to a trip to the E.R.--it seems as though the suit of armor He offers me is too big and heavy. I become weary and faint-hearted until He reminds me to let Him handle the battle; all I need to do is carry His cloak.

Perhaps because often I have heard warnings to remember Jesus goes everywhere we go, step by step so we must watch where we take Him, I picture myself driving a car but since the road ahead is new to me, I seem to make many wrong turns and temporarily lose my way. I have to go back to the beginning and move to the passenger’s seat and relax, allowing Him to direct my trip.

One day while hanging my coat in the closet, another thought surfaced. They say Jesus has many hands to do His work (attached to the arms of His followers). What if I were His coat He put on when He went out on the Father’s business? What if this coat was feeling worn out or bored and said, “No Sir, I don’t want to go to church today. I want a day off. Take me to a park or maybe let’s go gamble at that casino I’ve heard about.”  Does my coat decide where I go? Sometimes this image keeps me from “taking that day off” if I think of myself as His coat and it’s His decision where we go today.

Jack and the Beanstalk

             I've been thinking about what’s behind the disconnect between people today. Many folks I see believe they themselves are Jack, and instead of working the land and preparing for the earned harvest, they sit looking for the magic beans to sprout up overnight and fulfill their wishes.

            A lot of effort by someone else grows food, processes it and brings it to our local store so we can zap an instant meal in our microwave. Television advertisements display something daily we are sure to covet, don’t need and can’t afford. Bankers join in to “give” us instant credit—but at a price. The headline banner should read:

                                 Have all you want when you want it—no waiting!

        You and I, of course, see the fallacy in this belief system, but you probably have noticed the trend about to bury us all in debt. Right?

            Only in Fairyland do wishes come true spontaneously. A wealthy prince claims you as his bride, lotteries are won, rich uncles die and solve our worries. Foreigners by the drove come to our land to cash in on their dreams and wishes. Too few of us stop to think about the lessons handed down to us by the generation who sacrificed, risked their lives to give birth to our nation. They understood that it takes work and time to grow a nation just as work to grow a tree—preparation, planning, cooperation and continual hard work and careful maintenance for it to grow and thrive.

            From creating debt we may never be able to pay there is a natural-seeming progression to believing the world owes us and, just because we can’t afford something, it doesn’t mean we should go without something we really want. If we want it, we should have it. Why not? 

            The natural extension of these expectations is to think that other people who seemingly have plenty are required to share with us, letting us benefit effortlessly from their years of working and planning for their own families. Government should give us a free ride, we say—they’ve got money to spare. But that money was invested in our nation’s continued existence by taxpayers who worked for it. In a sense, when we stand with our hands out asking for gifts, we are walking uninvited into someone else’s house with our shopping basket on our arm. How is that different from the thief who enters with a gun? 

            Where the disconnect comes in is when folks without the drive to earn still want the plenty they see, without saving or working for it and begin to believe they have the “right” to demand things others have, others who have worked for it.

            There’s a pretty clear example in Exodus of the result of lack of faith and effort by a great nation of people, slaves freed by God and promised a land of their own if they would come and claim it. Miracles aplenty brought them to the edge of the Promised Land—daily food prepared—all they had to do was go out and pick it up. Somehow water was provided as they travelled the desert. Along the way they grew bored with the same basic food and whined for a feast and God sent them flocks of birds to eat. When they came to Canaan and saw its war-like residents, they were afraid to fight for the land, even after evidence of so many miracles in Egypt and the desert. That generation who refused to make the effort was barred from entry; the next generation were men of faith who believed their efforts would be rewarded—and they were.

            Along with fairy tales like Jack and his magic beans, some bits of truth came down through the years: Give a man a fish and he will eat one day; teach him to fish and he and his family will eat every day. And what about the proverbial ant and grasshopper? Some old ideas have not gone out of style; they just became unpopular for a time. Too bad for us.

           

Point of View

            In writing, they call it P.O.V.  -- point of view. In art it’s known as perspective: a study of perception as distance and line of sight cause variation in appearance, depending on where you are. An item seen from a severe angle appears to be misshapen or twisted. The item will seem to grow in size as you look more closely. An old illustration of perspective involved 6 blind men surrounding an elephant. Depending on which part of the animal they touched—the ropy tail, massive flapping ear, snake-like trunk or tree-like leg--each had quite different opinions on the animal’s appearance.  

            Remembering this led me to think about how I go through my day; I am unconsciously defining my experiences along the way, as well as anticipating what lies ahead, good or bad. I realized that sometimes I may concentrate too closely on something, giving it more importance than it deserves or needs, causing me to overlook something else more important. Worry is one outcome of this habit.

            Our individual backgrounds influence our attention toward some elements of our day based on previous encounters and may vary greatly from each other’s experience. Individual differences in viewpoints on some matters probably are unimportant and none are uniquely right or wrong; merely based on each person’s preference.

            Some issues, however, are universal and important to get right; penalties for failure to take them seriously may be severe, so we can’t afford to take our eye off the important and give too much attention on lesser important distractions.  

            Back to perspective: when I worry about an issue, I tend to concentrate on it, examine closely all the “what ifs” and the problem gets bigger, consuming time it doesn’t deserve and becoming a source of dread.  

            But wait--God’s Word says worry can’t change a situation and is a waste of energy; He reminded me that He even provides for each tiny bird. And there are promises in the Bible that nothing happens outside of God’s control and He loves me. He proved that when He sacrificed His Son to pay my sin debt and accept me as His child. 

             Remembering that what I hold closest becomes bigger and has a stronger hold on my attention, I must loosen my grasp on problems and keep my eyes focused on the One who created me and promised never to desert me.  With my all-powerful, loving Father and Solver of problems filling my sight, problems assume their proper (smaller) size, with God standing between them and me.  

            Our God, will you not judge them? For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us.

           We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”  2 Chronicles 20:12  

          Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, 

          what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?     Matthew 6;25                                                                                      

         I Will lift up my eyes to the mountains; From whence shall my help come?   Psalm 121:1

        My eyes are always on the LORD, for He will free my feet from the mesh.      Psalm 25:15
 

Behind the Scene

If someone told me this would happen or was happening, I’d have been surprised. Actually, I didn’t connect the dots until decades later. I didn’t see the pattern because so much time passed from beginning to completion. And it’s something I hadn’t actually asked for but was and is still one of the highlights of my life.

I was let go from a job with 13 years seniority. In shock I went home and checked my bank account and applied for unemployment insurance, then found a temporary part-time job at night for an air freight company through a business contact and joined a temp firm placing me in short-term jobs. 

I expected a rebound of all my old worries and fears, of feeling rejected. I guess my head was too busy figuring out working anywhere, night and day; worry never really paralyzed me as it used to. On thinking back to the beginning of this latest crisis, I realized why my spiritual backbone was strong enough to corral any stray thoughts and keep me focused. God was preparing me for a future I never dared dream of.

A couple of months earlier I had bonded together with 3 or 4 other Christians in this fairly worldly, if not corrupt, company--from corporate officers to warehouse clerks--and we began having weekly meetings, fasting through that lunch period, spending it in prayer for this company and its many employees whose lives showed no evidence of spiritual awareness. Our group had grown to about a dozen every week—and suddenly I was no more a part of it!

That day the only 2 office workers laid off were over 50 and had seniority in length of service benefits (extra vacations and profit-sharing, etc.) and in this situation I realized many people in my place would have sued. But I felt restrained in my heart from returning bad feelings with the same. I just got busy seeking a future. With no justification and no clue at God’s reasons for allowing this to interrupt my even-keel status: my girls were now married, I had a little money in the bank and no financial crisis for several years now; yet I never doubted  that He had allowed this—interruption. And a few months later, when I became a permanent employee at His planned destination (Abbott Laboratories) my bank account was identical to the day I was pushed out of my crowded, uncomfortable but safe (I thought) nest!

Some 40 years later, I could see the pattern and forethought woven to provide and is still providing for me, some 25 years after retiring,/ Over the years I have marveled at Bible stories about Abraham waiting so long to have a family, how long Noah labored to build an ark of safety from a fate the word had never seen before,  how long Moses and the Israelites wandered the desert, 40 years. I learned God plans ahead--way ahead!

You see, I never voluntarily left a job, never risked a sure thing for a chance at something better. My first job went away when the G.I. Bill for veterans’ education expired. I left the next job when I married and moved out of town, the next when a baby was on the way. It dawned on me: I would have stayed put in that job and missed many blessings.

After waiting on God, enduring about 3 months of  long hours at temp and part-time jobs, I joined a major company where each employee received fair treatment, respect, advancement and found many friends at all levels of the company and later in the retiree club. Pension at the new job was more than twice that of the former one, plus stock plan contributions from the company and continued relationships throughout retirement years. 

I’d never have set my sights on the quality of employer God was preparing me for; He knew this about me.

Casting All Care

Humble yourselves…casting all your care upon Him. 1 Peter 5:6-7

I was 41 years old when I learned how to do this.

A bitter wall between me and my husband during an 8 month long divorce battle was bad enough. I was barely hanging on by my fingertips, but at the same time I was losing my Mother, who had always been my source of strength, wisdom and love, to cancer. She went into the hospital August 27, 1994, died on Thanksgiving Day. When my eyes opened each morning I braced for – not knowing what blow -- was coming that day; that was the terrifying part.

 Our home, supposed to be a place of rest and safety, felt cold and unwelcoming. Each day until he was moved out, I dreaded coming home. Even worse was the suffering I saw in my two daughters, as they watched the world they knew crumbling. Prayer kept me on my feet, but barely.

Once the presence of turmoil had left, immediately I began again to see our home as our refuge, newly dedicated to our Father’s loving care, sustained by His grace and love. But there were still battles to be won. We had three vehicles, but two were beginning to be less dependable. With one daughter driving to high school, the other driving to Denton to college and her gospel music group performing at night and often returning very late, I worried about their safety when their cars would break down. Worry was a lifelong, chronic part of my existence even when things were going smoothly, so external peace for the family didn’t yet extend to internal peace, the kind of peace I knew was promised to a child of the King. So I reminded God of His promise and He reminded me that I needed to trust Him more.

Every payday I habitually wrote down the list of bills due; there was nothing left over for repairs and certainly not for a car payment. Yet we needed a new car that wouldn’t need repairs. Any math skills I had told me what I needed just didn’t exist. So every night when I prayed at bedtime, I laid the list on my bedside table and told God, “This is impossible. There are no answers. It’s up to you to figure this out, Lord,” And I’d turn out the light and go to sleep.

Within a few weeks, Kathy’s friend and fellow performer told Kathy about her search for a cheap used car and described one she couldn’t quite afford: a Dodge Charger from an elderly man who became ill soon after buying it and seldom drove it. Only 12 miles out of warranty, yet 3 years old. I actually felt my heart jump: new car, used car price, just as I had asked. I still didn’t understand how I could pay for it, but felt sure this was God’s answer. I  didn’t dare ignore this.  I went to the credit union and came home with the car. I still don’t know how, but it was paid for in 3 years and never went to a repair shop until it was paid for.

In addition to this miracle car, came the lesson learned that worry for me was sin, lack of trust. After an experience like this, greater faith in God’s protection enables me to feel bulletproof. Worry is no longer my daily companion. 

He tells me to keep my eye on Him, not on the problem.

Discipline is a Dirty Word

The very word brings to mind Punishment! It’s uncomfortable at best, painful at worst, and takes up time we’d rather spend doing something fun. Why does it matter?


In our youth every day, whether we wanted to or not, we were pushed out of a warm bed and sent to school. Once we were there, it wasn’t all bad. There was recess and usually one teacher or subject we enjoyed more than the rest. And even a test wasn’t too bad, if we had studied for it the night before. Otherwise it was pure tort ure. While actually taking the test, our hearts beat a little faster as we wondered if we’d be kept after school and what our parents would say or do.


Habitual avoidance of discipline complicates our life later on too – it takes effort to keep a list of excuses on hand for being late to work and our boss questions our character. And someday a doctor will warn us not to ignore routines which could extend our lives. Too many self- indulgent years in front of a TV, choosing high-calorie foods have taken their toll. Any muscles and joints that still work hurt! Our world gradually shrinks to a room, a chair, a bed, and suddenly we understand the cost for ignoring discipline.


Simply put, schools, churches and parents try to prepare us to reach our full potential mentally, morally and physically. and good habits get easier with practice.


We reap what we sow, only more so.

A life in the military means immediate response to any command, no matter how meaningless it seems; stifle any questions. There’s no choice, no “carrot", just a "stick", merely "get with the program or get out" or end up behind bars. No excuses. In the military, as in Christian life, strict compliance keeps us ready for whatever comes next and could save lives. Anyone having spent time in a war zone can look back on times when discipline kept them alive.

Any Christian can look back at crisis points when a decision between desires and life- instructions from the Bible can say the same. In our relationship with our Heavenly Father,
habitual compliance instead of questioning His guidance can at least help us avoid potholes in our path and perhaps keep us from losing our way.


And lest we venture into unsafe, forbidden thinking, such as asking God for a sign of His direction, a personal thunderous voice from heaven just for us, remember the story of the man who opened his Bible at random, asking God to instruct him and read the verse Matthew 27:5 “And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.” Then, deciding to give God a second chance, flipped again and found John 13:27 – “That thou doest, do quickly”.


But we must remember King Solomon, blessed by God with both wisdom and great wealth surpassing all others in history, and writer of the book of Song of Solomon, Ecclesiastes and Proverbs, an extensive map of how to orient our daily lives to please God.
Oh, did we think the New Testament replaced the Old which can be disregarded except as a historical record of God’s chosen? It's full of a wealth of prophecy forming the foundation of proof for the validity of the New Testament. And in the meantime (reinforcing the O.T.), N. T. records how God's people should order our lives, in letters written by the Disciples to the various new churches planted throughout their known world.

We reap what we sow, only more so.

Why Not?

I asked that question a lot as a child. Or simply "Why?" Mother was more  patient than most parents when I whined, but eventually I invariably pushed too far and her sweet voice seemed to thunder “BECAUSE I SAID SO!” End of conversation.

When she patiently gave her reasons, I could usually see her logic, reluctantly, but I knew nothing bad would result from my getting my way. She was always there, protecting me, right? Unless she was trying to make a point, the point of which escaped my tiny brain. There simply was no way she would allow me to be harmed, just to punish me. What I didn't realize was that her knowledge of dangers often were beyond my capacity to understand, or the risk was immediate and there was time only for immediate behavior, not for endless discussion.

One important precept escaped me: "A picture is worth a thousand words". If she allowed me to proceed as I wished, the outcome would be memorable. The bag of candy she warned me not to eat now did ruin my appetite and I missed my favorite fried chicken dinner and also suffered an upset stomach. Staying awake past bedtime to watch the end of the movie did make me oversleep and get to school late. If she really loved me, why did she punish me so harshly? It was her fault I missed a test that morning and had to stay after school to take the test.         Really???

Often vestiges of this attitude follow us as we age; often we still want our own way and trust our God to prove His love daily. We don't want Him to be our Father, we want a doting Grandfather granting our every wish. But God has no grandchildren. He wants to be our Father, the One who guides us away from pitfalls, dangerous situations, helps us to grow to be good people who are kind, respectful, good friends to those around us needing our help. He wants us to grow to be just like Him.

Just as our earthly parents may have done, God tells us how to please Him and offers wonderful rewards for obedience. If we prefer to go our own way, He will remind us there will be trouble. If we insist on ignoring Him, He will step back and allow us to dig ourselves into a hole we can't escape on our own and wait for us to admit our willful behavior and ask for help. We learn that some things we do can't be undone; though forgiven, there may be inevitable, painful consequences we will suffer. If we break a law, we can be forgiven, but may still go to jail.

It does no good to try to excuse our behavior by pointing to others far worse, shaking our fist at our Father and shouting "Why would a loving God allow this to happen?" and certainly honesty would prevent our blaming God for our predicament, claiming "You made me this way".

Maybe we just asked "Why?" once too often and His answer is "BECAUSE I SAID SO!'

           Who is wise? Let them realize these things. Who is discerning? Let them
           understand. The ways of the Lord are right; the righteous walk I them, but the
           rebellious stumble in them.
                                                           Hosea 14:9
                                                                     
                                                                  

Wanna Be Perfect?

                                                            Wanna Be Perfect?

I did. And I do. By trial and error, I eventually found new ways to approach perfection.

I’ve been delving into my past, hoping to offer insight into the mystery of me, past the generational barrier, to my grandchildren, who have so far only seen the barrier from one side; I’ve seen it coming and going, and learned much more about my “city Grand-mother”, who kept a journal for over fifty years, than my “country Grandmother” who may have had less time, compulsion to record her days, or access to pen and ink.

One trait I regret indulging for much of my life is chasing perfection. You see, I went about it all wrong. I became aware of this need to have perfection in the first year of school. So many children took their turn, one per day, at the easel and its thrilling reds and blues and a pristine canvas. Finally it was my turn. I gazed intently, gripping the brush tightly. So many colors, so many ideas whirling in my head. What should I place on this paper I had waited so long to paint? Some minutes later, with paper still blank, the teacher took my brush and handed it to someone else. I was heartbroken. I missed my chance.

A few years later I took piano lessons for four years. Eventually I reached the limit of my ability, or thought I did. If I couldn’t perform perfectly, it saddened me to compare what my ears heard with the sound in my imagination. “If I can’t do it right, I won’t do it at all.” 

I was not good at sports. I hated being compared with those kids who loved baseball and whenever possible I avoided coming up to bat or stood far out in the field where surely no one would hit a ball in my direction. 

I had found my niche. Do only what I was good at, stick to books. Some people enjoyed the game without perfection, but it embarrassed me. In the classroom I recognized that continued effort resulted in measured improvement, but otherwise I avoided doing in public something that gave others a chance to laugh at me. 

Only one problem with that practice: I didn’t like myself much, and my pride suffered because of I was letting fear govern my life. Looking back I began to see missed opportunities, wish I had dared to try some of those things that looked like so much fun. And yet I knew I was a child of the King of All There Is and, like the prodigal son, I was living in a pigpen, when I should be honoring my Father by planning my life around the palace waiting for me at the end of this road. I was definitely not behaving like His ambassador to this foreign country—I had measured my worth by this world’s standards. My pride should have been centered around my King.

Shifting my gaze outward freed me to forget self, learn to see others as Jesus sees them. I learned winning a race is not important—getting into the race instead of watching it is success in life. I want to report to my Commanding Officer some day, as Timothy said:

      “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”  2 Timothy 4:7             

       "Whatever you do, do your work heartily as for the Lord rather than for men."  Colossians 3:23

       "It is God who is at work within you, giving you the will and the power to achieve His 

        purpose."   Philippians 2:13

Finding Your Identity

Cleaning, sorting old files, I ran across a few things still seemingly true to me and maybe helpful to someone who stumbles across it. 

In a Psychology one paper from 1978, I wrote "Keep your mind fixed on what you want most in life, not on what you DON'T want." Someone said 'You are what you eat'. Perhaps more accurate is  "You are what you think". Fill your mind with complaints and self-pity. grievances and bitterness and you will discover plenty of valid justifications for this attitude.

"Happiness is not something you have; it's something you become. If you wait for something to be happy about before you become happy, you may never recognize it when it arrives."

Spoiler Alert: due to our being prone to the very basic, very human trait of "ME FIRST" , changing your life so drastically to this very foreign attitude takes time, like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar to a delicate butterfly.

I refer to a quote more recent:

"You are not what you think you are, but rather, what you think, you are."

Are You Ready? by Doris Lakey

Long ago when I was young I formed the habit of putting off as long as possible my daily responsibilities.  Mother would leave a list of chores for me every day—a short list usually, so I 

would enjoy my day with an eye on the clock so I’d finish up just before she got home. The 

dishes left in the sink all day would still be dripping on the counter when she arrived, and I’d be  slightly out of breath from the last minute rush. And yes, I knew well the old proverb of the  grasshopper and the ant.

This reluctance to do my best became so ingrained that seldom did I feel a twinge of conscience.           I knew there were things I should do, but grew to expect there would always be plenty of time –           in the meantime, there were things I’d rather do. Sound familiar? I suspect most of us prefer to procrastinate, but hopefully we outgrow or overcome this habit, which in the long run is really         more damaging than we knew. 

You see, I knew my Mother would come home every day. I knew when she would arrive, so I felt      safe in putting my fun before my chores. I hadn’t allowed any time to recover from any unscheduled accidents or delays; if the hot water heater had stopped working before I’d done the dishes, or if she   had called just before getting off work and added some urgent little thing I must do, I’d have caused her disappointment and displeasure. 

Continuing this habit into adulthood could risk job advancement or at least cause embarrassment.  Much more serious is putting off things the Bible says we should be doing to prepare for Jesus’s  arrival. You see, Jesus said He surely will come, but didn't tell us when! The Lord has been very generous with the amount of time he has allowed me to grow into His likeness, yet because I knew        I was safe, my past record will show I have failed to diligently pursue spiritual growth over much        of my eight decades.

Dear Ones, you have no guarantee you will have the time and be able and willing to get ready to      greet Him upon His return. My mother died at 62. My oldest daughter died at 38.  An uncle died           at 20. His twin brothers died before 10. The risk in putting self first in my life is (1) an early call homeward or (2) my lack of interest could grow instead of my spirit and lead me further into  separation from our Father in Heaven. Either option will leave me stricken with remorse, kneeling       at the throne, regretting my pitiful excuses instead of arriving with a clean spirit and clear conscience, with crowns of obedient service to our Redeemer who gave all for us.

About 1/3 of the Bible talks about Heaven and in many scripture also warns us to be ready.

            And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take
            you to be with me that you also may be where I am.    

                                        John 14:2

He's working NOW for our arrival; shouldn't we be preparing for that day?

Boldness or Timidity?

  

I remember when I was a small child in church that a preacher often got so excited, so filled with passion, that his voice rose to a shout as he paced back and forth with such urgency in his voice, such emotion, that even so small a creature as I was could not ignore what he was saying. In fact one preacher (J. Frank Norris, a local fire-and-brimstone preacher) inspired such emotion in my own father that his strong feelings led to rebellion and he rose mid-service, grabbed my hand and dragged Mother and me out of that church, never to return.

My dad rebelled at hearing the fate of a sinner described so vividly and darkly. His view of God was purely love toward mankind. So far as I know, Daddy stayed away from church services for the next decade. Years later, he said he couldn’t sit and listen to someone talk about a God who said He loved us and condemn sinners to such am eternal, infernal fate. Yet Jesus spoke of Hell three times as often as He did Heaven. If God the Father is real, so is God the Judge, who will sentence any who refuse to accept His pardon, given at the expense of the Perfect One, who sacrificed Himself, accepting the death penalty our sin requires. Both Heaven and Hell are real or Jesus was not who He said He was and there is no Heaven, indeed no God!

I wonder whether as time went on many pastors had trouble explaining away this truth and began to avoid this aspect of God and rather began to emphasize in their teaching discipleship, a form of self-improvement intended to bring us closer to a loving Father. Even while telling us we were saved by God’s grace through faith He planted in our hearts, I wonder if we listeners hear only that we need to improve to be acceptable to our God. We often seem to think of Holy God as dispenser of Good things, a doting Parent and less often remember He is a Judge who hates any sin and who dispenses final judgment. One day His patience will end and His invitation will be withheld, Heaven's gate will be shut, leaving us to our choice: an eternal future without Him and an eternal penalty to repent, without hope.

A precious few preachers now seem to sense that time is short; there is a boldness in their message which demands our full attention. Self-improvement is not why God left us here in this sin-filled world—if we loved others as we do Him, we would be shouting about the dangers ahead for those who deny Him as Lord. This is not the time for timidity, tolerance of evil around us.

One has described our behavior as that of a surgeon who can heal our disease but doesn’t offer the cure or even tell us there is a cure, and lets us limp forward with a prognosis of sure death. Or a fireman sitting in the firehouse, ignoring the blaring alarm which signals imminent death for some unknowing victim, or a highway repairman failing to signal a collapsed bridge ahead.


The one thing we can do today which cannot be done after we leave this world behind is to share God's love and warning to those around us, whose coattails are already smoking.

MEASURING UP by Doris Lakey

        Sometimes my mind wanders, often when I watch the TV news describing the terrible trouble someone              has gotten themselves into—road rage on the highway, political demonstration turned violent, highway                deaths caused by someone who lingered too long at the party (just one cocktail more won’t hurt), or a                   neighbor I see entertaining an overnight guest when I know her spouse just left on a business trip—and                 it’s pretty easy to go from observing and deploring their behavior to comparing them to myself and                      feeling just a little self-satisfied. And then I remember, God doesn’t grade on the curve!

      Sometimes I think God may have given us computers so we would see one basic principle:                      each bit and bite in a computer consists of switches 1 or 0, yes or no. Nothing in between,                       no sometimes, no once on a while, no maybe. The Evangelism Explosion course for faithful                 Jesus followers who want to become better witnesses for their faith illustrates this principle                     using an omelet for illustration. If you crack several eggs into a bowl and too late notice a bad                spot on one of the eggs, but they are mixed together and you think maybe it will be okay, most                of the eggs are good. As they cook, however, a terrible stench rises and you understand you                    can't present the omelet to your family and suggest they eat around the bad parts. The odor                     tells you none of the omelet is acceptable. All sin, any sin, is a foul stench to God.

     And Omniscient God has access to facts I can’t see. He looks into the heart and intentions whereas I                       see only the public façade. I’m not equipped to properly and fairly judge others, nor can I look into a                     mirror and see what God sees in me. It's a good thing that's not my job, but His.

    Comparing my behavior with someone else is dangerous. I don’t know that the drunken killer just fell0                  on his knees in the jail and begged for—and was granted—forgiveness. I don’t know the one who ran a                car off the road was rushing to a hospital to be with a family member at the point of death. Only God                    knows whether their hearts are hate-filled or remorseful, forgiven the instant they asked.

    Some people drink and look down on those narrow-minded folk who think it’s dangerous.  Some folks                  feel superior and look down on the indulgent drinker and his lifestyle, yet are faithless, unloving to their                families. Does it really matter which is worse, when they both lead to failure to meet God’s standard?                    Comparing two things which are both harmful, does it matter which is worse? We can always find                        someone around who is worse than ourselves, in our own opinion. Funny, we seldom are comfortable                    comparing ourselves to someone we suspect is closer to God than we are.  

    A carpenter measures his work by an absolute measure, a standard ruler which is the same every time                    and gives consistent results. By this principle, shouldn’t we therefore measure our behavior and thoughts             against the Perfect Standard He sent into the world to show us what He expects us to follow? His Son                   Jesus, though eternal and all-powerful, was our teacher and example of perfection, who became also                     man, unsuccessfully tempted in every way that Satan uses very well against each of us. In doing this,                     we can see our true measure and daily grow more like Him.

   When I catch myself comparing my failures with other people, I must quickly look at Jesus to measure                 my true worth. In spite of my self-indulgent life which could never match His in this world, He loved me             to the point of paying the death penalty I earned and will hold me close until I join Him in Heaven. 

   And I must always remember, Jesus thought my "little" sins were big enough to earn that death                       penalty.

        "The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. ...

        The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know                             it?                            Jeremiah 17:9

        For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, 

                                        Romans 3:23

A Special Day

        Whether we are or not “church people”, most of us think of Sunday as a special day and try to plan for some way to enjoy the day, whether it’s a picnic in a park, a summer day boating on a lake, or football on TV. Two generations ago, Sunday after church the family went to visit each other or took scenic rides in the countryside, perhaps glorying in the beauty of God's world. And while on a weeknight you might enjoy a game of cards or dominoes, never would you allow yourself to be caught at those games on Sunday.


Even most of us churchgoers, at some point, may attend services partly to uphold family tradition or from habit or to avoid explaining to someone we care about why we weren’t there. And usually we feel a twinge of guilt when we fail to go and resolve on Sunday afternoon to be there next Sunday for sure, unless something comes up. Eventually for some of us, this becomes our habit and we feel less and less guilt. We may show up to worship on special Sundays, like Easter or at Thanksgiving or Christmas, failing to realize every Sunday should be special to us and should be kept Holy in whatever we do that day.


As recently as mid-20th century, there were many restrictions (called Blue Laws) on non- ` emergency sales or purchases in Texas, and some states and many other countries still have some varying degrees of restriction on activities or sales on Sunday for preservation of a day of rest and/or worship for workers and their families. Commonly the work week consisted of five and a half days or even six days a week during the 1950s, so Sundays were the unique, special day for most of us. Then came the five-day week and the 1990s began trending toward a ten hour, four-day work week. Perhaps this skewed our attitude toward Sunday as part of our “personal days”, to do what we wanted.

There’s nothing wrong with boating, picnicking, a late party Saturday night, or football, unless they replace church attendance as our first priority. How to adjust our perception of Sunday? Guilt is a reminder only until we become desensitized. I’ve been thinking about this attitude change I needed, and like everything else God says, He made the answer so simple, if I just look.

Remember how loving you felt at Christmas toward everybody? Remember how gratitude filled your heart at Thanksgiving? Remember how humbly and fervently worshipful you were on Easter Sunday? Every Sunday is an anniversary of the day Jesus rose after paying the terrible sin price for what we all too often think of as our minor sins. In recognition and gratitude, let’s promise to greet every Sunday morning and remembering just how much He loves us.

 Six days you shall labor...but the seventh day is a Sabbath of the Lord your God.

                                                                            Exodus 20: 9-10

Journey of a Traveler

Perhaps I had a dream. Sometimes dreams are vague and short; this one was not. I was cruising along on a wide concrete, multi-lane highway. Distant mountains came into view and diminished as I sped past. Roadway signs clearly marked my route; rest stops and restaurants, signs offering side trips to attractive tourist locations appeared frequently. A pleasant journey overall.

As time passed, the road narrowed to two lanes, then to one and eventually to an unpaved gravel, single lane. Highway signs, rest stops, roadside attractions were now less frequent, the scenery perhaps a little boring, but later I learned there would be thrills and chills further down the road. The bumpy road was uncomfortable at times, but the potholes! I feared for my tires. My vehicle picked up a few rattles as I bounced along this patch of road. I began to look forward to the next fuel stop and the opportunity to check my vehicle's condition and a few minutes to walk off the kinks in my neck and stretch a bit.

The road was poorly marked, but there were few intersections, so chances to become lost were not a problem; however, I began to notice a slight incline. The road stretching ahead was less traveled and gradually wound upward, and the area I was passing through seemed fairly deserted, even lonely. An occasional detour sign slowed me down, but undeterred, I persevered. Most of my fellow-travelers had exited the road but I continued onward, with very few others still on the road. My engine began to overheat as it labored to climb the hill. I had to stop occasionally, open the hood and wait for it to cool down before continuing.

Luckily, I would eventually come to a fuel station along the way, where a mechanic would spot any trouble and repair it and prevent a breakdown. A tune-up aided my car's handling of the elevation without serious problems. As the road wended its way higher, I could see a fork in the road some distance ahead. One appeared to join another wide, paved highway; the other seemed to climb higher still, a barely visible single lane, lonely and even more primitive than I had experienced so far.

I paused at the intersection and read the highway signs: one promised a large city just ahead, with all amenities and entertainment--the other sign announced excellent care for my vehicle, "Repairs, Restoration, Renewal" and "New Cars, Unbelievable Trade-ins".

I pondered this decision, wondering about the two roads ahead. I think of my body as the vehicle; the path toward my destiny offers only two choices. Looking back over my years. I remembered the broad highway when things were easier, more comfortable. I recognize the bumpy road my vehicle is now on and I'm still smarting from some of the potholes I've fallen into. How tempting is the smooth, wide open road? How encouraging is the road promising "repairs, restoration. renewal"?

No contest. The Great Mechanic manufactured this vehicle, my body, and I trust His promise and ability to prepare it (and my spirit) for infinity with Him. I can hardly wait to see His new models!

Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.
Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.

Psalm 90:10, 12

Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written The days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them.

Psalms 139:16

(I'm at 85 this month, but who's counting?)