God is in the Compost Pile

Procrastination—You Don't Have To Know Everything

2012-01-28T12:39:00.022-06:00

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men."
Colossians 3:23 (ESV)

Art ©Richard Krzemien, The Writer at Work
All Rights Reserved

The Procrastinator’s Poem

I’ve gone for a drink and sharpened pencils,
Searched through my desk for forgotten utensils,
I reset my watch, adjusted my chair,
I’ve loosened my tie and straightened my hair.
I filled my pen and tested my blotter 
And gone for another drink of water 
Adjusted the calendar, and I’ve raised the blinds 
And I’ve sorted erasers of all different kinds.
Now down to work I can finally sit.  
Oops, too late, it’s time to quit.
—Author Unknown

Like the man in the poem, I’m a procrastinator. This is something I’m working on in 2012. My goal is to resist the temptation to procrastinate.

People procrastinate for different reasons. Some are lazy, and others just put things off because they don’t have time.

An incident from the American Revolution illustrates what tragedy can result from procrastination. It is reported that Colonel Rahl, commander of the British troops in Trenton, New Jersey, was playing cards when a courier brought an urgent message stating that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware River. Rahl put the letter in his pocket and didn't bother to read it until the game was finished. Then, realizing the seriousness of the situation, he hurriedly tried to rally his men to meet the coming attack, but his procrastination was his undoing. He and many of his men were killed and the rest of the regiment were captured.

Nolbert Quayle said, "Only a few minutes' delay cost him his life, his honor, and the liberty of his soldiers. Earth's history is strewn with the wrecks of half-finished plans and unexecuted resolutions. 'Tomorrow' is the excuse of the lazy and refuge of the incompetent."
[Source: Our Daily Bread February 2, 2009.]

When I was an editor at Golden Books, I worked with a wonderful man who acted as a liaison between the Editorial Department and the printer. Wally’s job was to keep everyone on schedule, and his favorite phrase was, “I deal only in absolutes and certainties!”

My problem with procrastination isn’t so much with laziness or time, but rather with absolutes and certainties. Before I start something, I want to have all of the pieces and know exactly how they fit together. I want to know everything. And when that isn’t possible, then the task seems overwhelming. I want to procrastinate.

One day a young man moved into a cave to study with a wise man. He hoped to learn everything there was to know. After giving his student a stack of books, the wise man sprinkled itching powder on his student's hand and left. Every morning the wise man returned to the cave to monitor his student's progress. "Have you learned everything there is to know yet?" the wise man asked.

And every morning his student said, "No, I haven't." Then the wise man would sprinkle itching powder on the student's hand and leave. This was repeated for months. But one day, as the wise man entered the cave the student took the bag of itching powder and tossed it into the fire.

"Congratulations!" said the wise man. "You've graduated. You've learned you don't have to know everything to do something positive. And you've learned how to take control over your life and stop the itching."
[Source: Today in the Word, May 1, 1992.]

Every day, I’m trying to "stop the itching" by following the advice given in 1 Chronicles 28:20: "Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged by the size of the task, for the LORD God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you." (NLT)

Whatever the reason for procrastination, it isn’t good. Proverbs 24:30-34 (NIV) says: "I went past the field of a sluggard, past the vineyard of someone who has no sense; thorns had come up everywhere, the ground was covered with weeds, and the stone wall was in ruins. I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw: A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest— and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man."

Are you a procrastinator or have you overcome procrastination? I would love to know your story.

Are You Afraid of the Hodag?

2012-01-21T12:18:00.008-06:00

". . .but whoever listens to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm."
Proverbs 1:33 (NIV)

The Hodag, the unrelenting legend of an illusive beast that prowls the Northwoods. A hideous, hairy animal it is. Seven feet long, three feet high. Ferocious. Dangerous. Grumpy. Its short, strong legs finish in claws, raw and needle sharp. A dozen gleaming, white horns line its backbone. Wicked-looking tusks hang menacingly from its vise-like jaws. With spikes and tusks, the Hodag rubs bark off maples and covers itself with sap. Sticky then, it rolls in fallen leaves making a winsome disguise.

“Beware of that pile of leaves in the woods,” says the storyteller. He points into the darkness past his shoulder. “It might be the Hodag waiting for—YOU!”

We scream. He pours water on the campfire then. Flames sizzle. The orange glow surrounding his face vanishes in a shroud of steam. Reluctantly, we girls retreat to our tents. Brave scouts no more. We slip into sleeping bags, zip them tight, and lay awake worrying about the Hodag. We don’t know when or if it will come, or worse what might happen if it does. We only know that it IS. Somewhere out there the Hodag lurks, and it fills our souls with fear.

Are you afraid of the Hodag? Most of us are. It’s that “something out there,” that something that could harm us, the unknown. For some, the Hodag is fear of loss—of a loved one, our job, our health. For others, it’s a persistent unnamed fear, or fear of fear itself. A Hodag fear can lead to a deathbed confession like this one:

“I’ve had a lot of trouble in my life—most of which never happened!”

There’s only one weapon that can destroy Hodag fear. Faith. Faith first in God’s perfect plan and protection. Faith then in ourselves that we possess enough strength to face our fear with faith.

Think about David in 1 Samuel 17. A gangly teenager with a slingshot and no cladding, he faced Goliath, a fearsome, mocking bully, nine feet tall. The giant, dressed in full armor, harassed and cursed him, but David answered, "You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty. . .” (verse 45) Then David struck Goliath. The Hodag fell dead. Faith conquered fear.

In Psalm 112:7-8, David writes about people who are faithful and obedient to God. He says, “They aren't afraid when bad news comes. They stand firm because they trust in the Lord. Their hearts are secure. They aren't afraid. In the end they will see their enemies destroyed.”

In times of trouble believers can find peace knowing that God will deliver them. No matter what the circumstances He is God, our protector, the One who knows the unknown. He is the God who does not change. He is Faith in the face of fear, the Slayer of the Hodag.

Curious about the Wisconsin Hodag legend?
Learn more here.

If You Could Meet Jesus the Man . . .

2012-01-13T11:39:00.013-06:00

. . .He came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
— Luke 10:38-42 (NIV)

I sometimes daydream about living back when Jesus wore skin. In my imaginings, I’ve slipped into the personas of Gospel characters, disciples, and followers of Christ. I’ve lain in a field, a lowly shepherd guarding my sheep when the angel came down from Heaven. I’ve rested with the Twelve, listening to Jesus speak parables on cool, starry nights with gentle breezes rocking silver leaves on olive trees. When I faced uterine cancer in the present-day world, I became one with the woman who bled and sought healing. I imagined that, like she, I could push through the sea of neediness surrounding Our Lord and ever so dimly touch the hem of His robe. And somehow, I did. I transcended time. He knew my touch, and He healed me in the twenty-first century.

Last night, I asked myself, “If you could choose to be one, just one, who had personal contact with Jesus the Man, whom would you choose?” A question like that deserves pondering. But I didn’t turn it over and over in my head trying to decide which one. I knew. I have always known. If I had to choose, I would be Mary, sister to Martha and Lazarus.

This Mary was Jesus’ close friend. It was she who sat at His feet listening to His words while her sister cooked and swept. It was this Mary who gave Christ her undivided attention and enjoyed the one-on-one intimacy with Him that we Christians have in Spirit.

Mary. Mary of Bethany. What questions did you ask Him? What answers did you receive from this God made Man? While the everyday busyness, the preparation of the table, the sweeping of the hearth, went on without you, what did you learn from Christ’s words? Did He unravel mysteries that we wonder about today? Did He tell you things hidden from the scribes? Did the Rabbi allow you to travel deep into His heart and know Him beyond the Word of God? What secrets did you discover when your souls, those of dear friends, touched?

I want to know. I long to know this flesh and blood Jesus apart from what the Bible tells me. I want to sit at His feet and listen to His every word. On ancient nights, so still, in a small house lit faintly by oil-filled lamps, I ache to whisper questions that no one dares ask. What is in the heart of this living, breathing Jesus? What might we know today that remains hidden because there were not more like Mary who was not upset about many things, but instead chose what was better?

I can only imagine.

If you could be someone who had personal contact with Jesus the Man, whom would you be?

The Cool Side of the Pillow

2012-01-08T10:24:00.007-06:00

A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest
—Proverbs 6:10 (NIV)

My German grandmother holds the wicker laundry basket brimming with linen sheets and pillowcases as if embracing a child still in the womb. Without grasping the railings, she descends the steep back staircase from her upper flat, slowly, carefully, left foot, right foot, until she reaches the bottom. There, she props the basket between her stomach and the door. With one hand, her crippled fingers turn the latch counterclockwise and then the doorknob. Lacy edgings spill over the sides of the basket like snow slowly melting and hanging precariously from the eaves. She pushes the door open with her foot. April slips in, aching to rise up the stairs, enter the apartment, and devour the stale, leftover scents of winter. Grandmother steps outside. She sets the basket down and lifts up the worn, gray, cellar doors. Her right hand searches her apron pocket for the old, silver key. She finds it, picks up the basket, three steps down, cement this time, she unlocks and opens the basement door.

An old wringer washing machine sets in the corner next to Lower-Flat-Daughter-in-Law’s “modern” washer and dryer. Casters scrape against concrete as Grandmother rolls the machine next to the sturdy double rinsing tubs. She fills the tubs and the machine with hot water, empties the basket into one vat of the steaming liquid, adds detergent to the machine. She passes the soaked sheets and pillowcases through the wringer and into the old Maytag, then turns it on. The machine rocks gently, agitating the load, washing away seven nights of sleep. A quarter of an hour later, Grandmother stops the machine. She slips each piece of material back through the wringer and into the rinse water. Then, with a wooden broom handle, she swirls the bedding hard through the rinse. Once again, she slides the sheets and pillowcases through the wringer. She loads them into the wicker basket, tosses in a canvas bag filled with wooden clothespins, then goes outside where Daughter-in Law is cleaning the flower beds, admiring tiny green shoots sticking up through the soil. “Mother,” she says. “I wish you would use my washing machine and dryer. The way you do it takes so much extra work.”

Grandmother clips a clean sheet on the clothesline to dry. In her thick German accent, she answers, “It’s the work that makes best for the cool side of the pillow.”

The cool side of the pillow—that amazing sensation of soft, cool linen against your skin. There is something about it that ushers in a sense of peace and wellness with the world. It promotes a fullness of soul and gentle, restful sleep. But, as Grandmother said, a little elbow grease is needed to get that linen smelling fresh and to make it feel clean and new.

Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 NIV) Have you ever thought that Jesus is the cool side of the pillow? The more work we put into our relationships with Him, the more restful our dark nights become. Many of us tend to take our problems to our beds. Isn’t it wonderful to know that we have the option of flipping our pillows over to the cool side, the Jesus side, to find instant refreshment?

Conclusion: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

2011-12-25T15:55:00.018-06:00

The unfailing love of the LORD never ends! By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each day. I say to myself,
"The LORD is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!"
Lamentations 3:22-24 (NASB)

Word spread quickly throughout Bethlehem that the prophecies of Isaiah and Micah had been fulfilled. The truth became known. Mary, the young, unmarried pregnant girl, had not told a lie. She was the one the prophet Isaiah had spoken of when he said, “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14) True to what the prophet Micah had predicted, the child was born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). Mary must have felt more at ease now about how others viewed her suspicious pregnancy. Believers came to worship and adore the child, and they recognized that God had chosen Mary to give Him birth.

In another place, God was revealing the next piece of His Christmas puzzle—the star. Contrary to our modern-day interpretation of Christmas symbols, the star was likely a subtle sign and not a bright heavenly body hovering over the stable in Bethlehem. Had it been a glaring white light, the whole countryside would have seen and wondered, but the Bible doesn’t say that. Instead, Magi, wise men from the East, noticed something different in the sky. These men from a powerful, priestly tribe, many miles from Bethlehem, were astronomers, and they determined that this was “His star,” the Messiah. Matthew 2:1-2 tells us: After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

The Bible goes on to suggest that King Herod was clueless about the star and also Christ’s birth. He felt threatened when he heard about this King of the Jews, so he called his religious leaders and asked what the scriptures said about the Messiah and the place of His birth. Then Herod sent the Magi to Bethlehem. “Go and search carefully for the child,” he said. “As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.” (Matthew 2:8)

The star acted differently then. It appeared to move, and it led the Magi directly to Jesus. They bowed down and worshiped Him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. (Matthew 2:11-12)

Herod felt furious that the Magi had betrayed him. He had just enough information to know the approximate time of Jesus’ birth and where He might be. So, Herod ordered his soldiers to go to Bethlehem and kill all the baby boys ages two and under. This foreshadowed Jesus’ fate. Throughout His life there would be those who wanted to kill Him. But, for now, the young Messiah, King of the Jews, was safe.

Just as an angel was the first piece of God’s Christmas puzzle, so it was the last. An angel appeared in a dream to Joseph and warned him of Herod’s plan. Now, all the pieces of God’s Christmas puzzle were in place. The angel told Joseph to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt and later to Nazareth where they would raise the boy.

Shrouded in the silent simplicity of that first Christmas, God had begun working His mighty plan of salvation. He continues to work that plan today, quietly, piece by piece, out of our sight and apart from our comprehension. As we approach this new year, we can only imagine what 2012 will hold. Like Mary, a young woman, unmarried and pregnant, we go forward in faith, trusting God and believing in His power to lead us and provide for us.

I pray that all of you will have a happy, healthy and prosperous new year.

Part 4: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

2011-12-21T22:04:00.006-06:00

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."
Luke 2:11 (KJV)

In the depth of night, Mary gave birth to a baby boy—Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah. She wrapped him firmly in swaddling cloth and laid him in a manger. The little town of Bethlehem slept. There was no fanfare, no celebration, only the adoration of two proud surrogates who knew this baby was not their own, but the Son of God. In the darkness, the Lord had gently slipped into Earth’s presence, His spirit resting in the body of an innocent newborn child.

As they gazed at the sleeping baby, Mary and Joseph might have wondered, what now? Was it God’s will that they keep Jesus a secret until He was ready to reveal His plan, or did God want them to tell the world? And who would believe them? Certainly in the stillness of the night, these young parents prayed and asked Heaven for guidance. As they prayed, God revealed the next piece of His Christmas puzzle. We find it in Luke 2: 8-18.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.

Mary and Joseph had received a quick answer to prayer. God planned for shepherds to deliver the news that Christ, the Messiah, was born in Bethlehem.

Why shepherds? For the same reason that the Son of God was born in a simple and modest setting—humility. Christ came into this world not as a rich and mighty king, but instead poor and needy. He came for those who, like shepherds, had many responsibilities but few resources. He came to redeem not only the poor shepherds of the world, but also the world’s lost sheep. Everything about that first Christmas was clothed in humility. That night began the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy about Jesus the Messiah:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoner and recovery of sight for the blind,  to set the oppressed free . . .” Jesus had come for the poor in spirit, to open their eyes to salvation and to set them free from Satan’s lair.

Luke writes, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Surely, now she understood that she and Joseph had been right to take the high road, that it was God’s plan for His Son to be born among animals and laid in a manger. It was God’s plan for poor shepherds to be the first to come, honor Him, and share the Good News.

Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

These days as you shop for last-minute Christmas gifts, wrap presents, and prepare to celebrate the holiday with family and friends, do you ponder the events of that first Christmas night in Bethlehem? Do you treasure them in your heart?

Part 3: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

2011-12-16T20:18:00.007-06:00

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke 2:7 (KJV)

The Bible provides us with a simple outline of the Christmas story, but it leaves the details to our imaginations. Perhaps, as I suggested in my last post, Joseph chose the high road: the shortest route, the road more difficult to travel. Maybe he borrowed a donkey for Mary to ride. We don’t know. But let’s continue to imagine what might have been.

As they walked the dusty road, steep hills and low valleys, did Mary and Joseph share their worries aloud, or did they travel silently, feigning that their faith in God was solid? They were human, after all. And humans doubt. Did Mary wonder, have we done the right thing? Surely, God wouldn’t want His son born in a small and ordinary town. Certainly, He would want Him to enter the world in a place fit for a king. There was nothing kingly about Bethlehem.

When they arrived there, the place teemed with travelers who, like Mary and Joseph, had come to be counted. Where would the young couple stay? Did they have relatives in Bethlehem? If so, would they want Mary in their home, a woman who had become pregnant before marriage? We can only imagine the thoughts that Mary was thinking as she and Joseph wandered through the city among the crowds.

The Bible says that there was no room for them in the inn. Bible scholars translate this in different ways, but the consensus is that there was no space for them in the guest room. Whose guest room? It doesn’t matter. Wherever they went in Bethlehem, whether to family, friends, or a traditional inn, there was no space for them to stay. So they found lodging in an area where animals were kept, a place with a manger. And this place was the next piece of God’s Christmas puzzle. Christ the Savior was to be born in the simplest of settings, and his bed would be a lowly manger.

As Mary and Joseph waited, hours or days, for the child to be born, did they doubt that they were in the right place, that they had done the right thing according to God’s will? They were in a stable and not in a palace or a temple fit for the birth of the King.

There is that old adage that goes, “God works in mysterious ways.” Usually, those ways are not what we expect. God moves easily and quietly, assembling the pieces of His plan in ways that we cannot understand. That first Christmas in Bethlehem was set in simplicity, and not grandeur. Yet, God was there—fully, totally, completely.

O, little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in they dark streets shineth
The everlasting light . . .

Mary, did you know?

Is your Christmas set in the stillness of simplicity, or are you trying to make it fit for a king?

Part 2: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

2011-12-10T14:21:00.009-06:00

“The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.”
Habakkuk 3:19 (NIV)

Our story continues with Mary and Joseph going on with their lives, preparing a home for the child. Sometimes, Mary rests from her work, places both hands on her belly, takes pleasure in feeling the baby move and kick inside of her. Her pregnancy has been routine, uneventful. But now, in the eighth or ninth month, God reveals another piece of His Christmas puzzle. Without warning, the Romans call a census of all Jews. Mary and Joseph, members of the tribe of Judah, must travel to Bethlehem to be counted. They must go immediately. There is no waiting, no reprieve. The Bible doesn’t tell us much about what happens next, but let’s imagine.

“We should leave early tomorrow morning,” Joseph tells his very pregnant wife.

“But it is too near the time for the child to be born,” Mary answers.

Neither of them says it, but they know. It will be next to impossible for Mary to complete the journey without giving birth along the way. Surely they are worried. Do they hide this from one another, hoping to give each other strength? They trust the Lord, but they are human. And humans worry.

Joseph has to make a tough choice—which route to travel. The easiest, through the plains, is also the longest. Certainly, Mary will give birth along the way. Joseph wonders, is this what God wants? An old trading route provides the shortest way. But it winds for 70 miles through the rocky highlands. Mary will have to travel on uneven ground, up and down hills. Impossible, Joseph says to himself. But nothing is impossible with God. His still, small voice echoes in Joseph’s heart. “Take the highlands. Walk where you most fear to tread.” With some reservation, Joseph chooses to follow God instead of his own human judgment. If God wants them to take the roughest route, then that is what they must do. Again, Joseph trusts in the words of Jeremiah 29:11. He believes that God has a plan to prosper and not harm them.

How does Mary react to Joseph’s decision? Do the words of the scriptures enter her mind?

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will find joy in the God of my salvation. The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. Habakkuk 3:17-19

We can only imagine what happens next, but we do know this: Mary and Joseph made it to Bethlehem. They made it in God’s time and in accordance to His will.

In life, God sometimes leads us to take the roughest route, one rife with rocky hills and deep valleys. We might ask why. Why not the easiest way? But we remember that it was in the rocky hills that God gave Moses His Ten Commandments. It was in the hills that Abraham offered sacrifices to God, and Jacob dreamed of angels climbing a ladder to Heaven. In the hills we find God, like a Good Shepherd, leading our way. In the hills, we grow stronger in our will to make the journey as we learn to put our faith and trust in Him.

When Mary and Joseph left the next morning, they might have offered this prayer, these words from Psalm 121:

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

Amen.

Part 1: I Don’t Know How To Tell You This, But I’m Pregnant

2011-12-04T00:10:00.006-06:00

Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows: when His mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit.
Matthew 1:18 (NASB)

Can you imagine Joseph’s reaction when Mary told him that she was pregnant? He knew that the baby wasn’t his, and her explanation seemed unbelievable. What? She had become pregnant by the Holy Spirit and would give birth to the Son of God? And an angel told her this? The Bible suggests in Matthew 1:18-19 that Joseph didn’t believe any of it. “And Joseph . . . being a righteous man and not wanting to disgrace her, planned to send her away secretly.” (NASB) Joseph had other options. He could lie and say that he was the father, but this would humiliate them both and break God’s ninth commandment: you shall not bear false witness. He could accuse Mary of unfaithfulness and embarrass her. According to Jewish law, he could even have her stoned for being unfaithful. But the Bible tells us that Joseph was a righteous man. And he was a caring man, too. He didn’t want his fiancé embarrassed by her unexpected pregnancy, and also he didn’t want to accuse her of unfaithfulness and begin a flood of gossip. After all, the Old Testament taught, “He who goes about as a talebearer reveals secrets, but he who is trustworthy conceals a matter.” (Proverbs 11:13 NASB) Joseph was a righteous and God-fearing man. He decided to suffer silently, believing that Mary had betrayed him. He planned to quietly send her away.

Meanwhile, God was putting together the pieces of the Christmas puzzle, and the next piece was to confirm to Joseph that Mary had been truthful. Matthew 1:20-21 (NASB) tells us, “But when [Joseph] had considered [sending Mary away] an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife; for the Child who has been conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. She will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”

So, Joseph scrapped his plan, obeyed God, and did as the angel had told him. He took Mary as his wife, and he kept her a virgin until she gave birth to Jesus. (Matthew 1:24-25) What did people say when they found out that Mary was several months pregnant? Did they gossip and humiliate her? The Bible doesn’t tell us. What we do know is that Joseph stuck by her and supported her pregnancy because not only did he trust her, but he trusted God.

When you think about it, the beginning of the Christmas story is all about trust. Without hesitation, Mary trusted that the angel Gabriel had told her the truth. Joseph didn’t believe her, which must have hurt, but she continued to trust that God was working out His plan through her. After God's angel spoke to Joseph, he stopped struggling with his decision and immediately put his trust in God and also in Mary’s truthfulness.

As this month of Christmas begins, how well do you trust God? Do you believe, as Jeremiah 29:11 tells us, that He has a plan to prosper you and not to harm you, a plan to give you hope and a future?

What Number Is Your Turkey?

2011-11-19T14:08:00.006-06:00

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.
Philippians 4:6 ESV

(Reposted from Thanksgiving 2009)

My mother was the official turkey maker for our Thanksgiving dinners. Every year, Mom would fret about cooking the turkey, and Dad would answer by telling her how many turkeys she had cooked through the years. "We've been married 27 years, and you've made 27 turkeys. It'll be fine"….."We've been married 40 years, and you've made 40 turkeys. It'll be fine." It was the same conversation each Thanksgiving, and the turkey was always fine.

I confess, that I was somewhat annoyed by their annual exchange. Sometimes when we're young, we miss the significance of the little things – those little exchanges that couples have again and again.

Mom was a worrier, and I'm sure that she prayed to God each time she put a turkey into the oven. She read her Bible daily, and Philippians 4:6 was a verse that she liked to quote: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. "Dear God, thank you for this turkey. Now, please help me to cook it just right so it won't turn out dry. Amen."

Mom checked the bird often. She tested it for brownness and juiciness, and when it was finally done and presented to the table she always said, "I hope that it's okay." That's when Dad would chime in and announce the annual turkey number and proclaim that the bird was fine.

The last turkey was number 57. We didn't know that it would be the last. A few months after Thanksgiving, Mom became suddenly ill and died. That same year, Dad went into a nursing home.

Dad had dementia that progressed rapidly after he lost his wife. He no longer remembered the number of turkeys that Mom had cooked through the years, but he remembered Mom. As time went on, he forgot that I was his daughter. I became Betty, his wife. I looked like her and I sounded like her, and that, I think, was a comfort to my dad. In his mind, his beloved wife was still with him, and although I wished that he'd remember me, I played along. I was Betty.

On each of the nine Thanksgivings that Dad was in the nursing home, I cooked our traditional Thanksgiving dinner at home, packed it up, and took it there to share with him. Like my mother, I fretted about the turkey and wondered if it would be done enough or if I had overcooked it and it would be dry. The nursing home staff always prepared a private dining room where Dad and I could sit together and eat our Thanksgiving meal. In Dad's mind, he was home. "I hope the turkey's okay," I found myself saying as I presented Dad with a steaming plate of food. I half expected him to answer that this was turkey number 58 and it would be fine, but he didn't. I fed him the turkey because he was no longer able to feed himself. He said that it was good. Gone was the traditional exchange between my parents. Lost was the annual turkey count. But we went on sharing our Thanksgiving meals, father and daughter together, until he died.

1 Thessalonians 5:18 says, "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." This year, I'm thankful for all the Thanksgiving turkeys that I shared with my Mom in joyful holiday fellowship. I'm equally thankful for the additional Thanksgivings that I had with my dad. Although the circumstances were sad, and grew more difficult with each passing year, we had each other. I'm most thankful for memories of the little things: my mom and dad bickering about the turkey and the wonderful smell of it roasting in the oven when I walked through the door. It was those little things that reminded me that I was home…and everything was fine.

Dear Lord: On this Thanksgiving Day, we give thanks to you for family, home, and for the sweet remembrance of Thanksgivings gone by. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.

What number is your turkey? I wish you, my readers, a blessed holiday filled with little things that become cherished memories...and most of all, I wish you a turkey that turns out fine!

Thanksgiving 1963 -- Lee Harvey Oswald

2011-11-07T19:42:00.016-06:00

"Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as an excuse to do evil.
Live as servants of God."
1 Peter 2:16

I climbed out of bed that morning, November 24, 1963, savoring the steamy aroma of a fat, stuffed turkey roasting in the oven. As I stumbled into the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes, Mom was busy making cranberry sauce. Dad was sharpening the knife he always used to carve our Thanksgiving turkey. Their attention focused on a small, portable, black-and-white television set, its “rabbit ears” antenna tilted toward the steam-fogged kitchen windows. On the screen a fuzzy image of Walter Cronkite re-told the events since President Kennedy’s assassination two days before. Guilt contributed to our silence that Sunday morning. We had skipped church, the place where most Americans sought comfort following one of the darkest days in our country’s history.

We were having our Thanksgiving meal four days early because my grandmother planned to travel to Quantico, Virginia to spend Thanksgiving Day with my mother's sister. No one felt like celebrating. Our President was dead, shot by Lee Harvey Oswald who took aim from a window in a schoolbook depository in Dallas and twisted our lives into a tangled mass of confusion and fear.

As I set the table later that morning, and Grandma arrived with homemade pumpkin pie, my ten-year-old mind struggled to understand why anyone would want to kill the President. The whole world, it seemed, had stopped. Our feelings had shifted from anger and disbelief to a stark, quiet acceptance. Kennedy was gone. There was nothing anyone could do to turn back time and make things right again.

We were about to sit down for our Thanksgiving dinner when Mom called from the kitchen. “Come here. They’re showing Oswald!” We gathered around the TV for our first look at the monster who had killed President Kennedy. There he was, handcuffed and looking surprisingly clean-cut wearing dark corduroy slacks and a pullover sweater. He walked swiftly and with a sense of arrogance, through the basement corridors of the Dallas Police Department, toward a car waiting to take him to the county jail. Then, as we watched, a man wearing a suit and fedora lunged forward. He shot Oswald, point blank, in his stomach. “Mercy!” Grandma exclaimed. We had just witnessed a murder, and although no one felt merciful toward Oswald that day, we were shocked. Stunned. “Enough,” said Mom, turning off the television. "It's Thanksgiving."

We sat down at the dinner table, joined hands, and prayed, “Thank you, Lord, for your many blessings, your faithfulness, and your never-ending love . . .”

*****

Praise the Lord, all you nations; 
extol him, all you peoples.
 For great is his love toward us, 
and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. 
~Psalm 117:1-2

How To Turn Fuzzy Gratitude Into Heartfelt Gratefulness

2011-11-04T13:44:00.028-05:00

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.”
Isaiah 55:8 (NLT)

When bad things happen, we sometimes assume the role of a therapist psychoanalyzing God. The conversation might go something like this:

“God, it says in Psalm 145 (NLT) verse 3—‘Great is the Lord! He is most worthy of praise. No one can measure His greatness,'

and verses 5–7—‘I will meditate on Your majestic, glorious splendor . . . Everyone will share the story of your wonderful goodness.’

Verse 18 says—‘The Lord is near to all who call on Him.’

So, God, if You are so great and good, and if You are near when we ask for help, then why do You allow bad things to happen?”

And God answers, “But you don’t understand!”

During this month of Thanksgiving, I want to challenge you to look at God from David’s perspective in Psalm 145. Keep in mind that David’s life was filled with trouble. Saul wanted to murder him, he ran away, hid in caves, and went without food. After he became king, David lost a child, his best friend was killed, his enemies tried to overthrow him, and his own son tried to kill him. Certainly, David asked why, and in doing so he learned to change the way he thought about God.

Read the second part of verse 3. Here David tells us that no one is able to psychoanalyze God. There are no answers to our why questions, because we humans cannot begin to understand God’s thoughts. God does not behave according to our rules. So, instead of asking why, David accepts that God is too great for the human mind to understand, and he chooses to praise His greatness.

In verses 5–7, understanding that he can’t comprehend God’s thoughts, David meditates on God’s Creation. He concentrates on what his human mind is able to comprehend as good. He finds so many awesome things, that he says to God, "Everyone will be talking about how great You are!”

Then, in verse 18, David shares his belief that God is near to those who trust Him. He has learned through his own experiences that

1. believers should accept God for who He is and praise Him in all circumstances;

2. when it is hard to praise God in bad times, it helps believers to concentrate on God’s goodness as they are able to comprehend it; and

3. when believers do these two things, God draws nearer to them.

Has this been a bad year for you? Are you half-heartedly thanking God during this season of gratefulness? Then try this: spend from now through Thanksgiving looking at God from David’s perspective. See if God draws near to you and transforms your fuzzy gratitude into heartfelt gratefulness.

Three Things Cancer Taught Me About God

2011-10-01T17:20:00.010-05:00

For with God nothing will be impossible
Luke 1:37 (NKJV)

Last year, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. I am one of the lucky survivors who had surgery and was done with it. No radiation or chemotherapy needed, just quarterly checkups. I had been cancer free for 15 months, and then, two weeks ago, I went for my annual mammogram. They found something. The doctor was reasonably sure that it was a new cancer. I faced more tests, and while I waited for the results I felt at peace. So different from last year. This time, I waited meditating on how God has used cancer to teach me about Him. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

1. God wants us to fight against fear.

To fear cancer and its treatment, to fear the idea that it might kill me, is not God’s will. Instead, He desires that I be self-disciplined enough to use His power in me to reject Satan’s cruel what-if’s and death threats. I have learned to push fear away because fear shuts God out. When we learn to shut Satan out, we receive God’s peace that passes all understanding. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. (2 Timothy 1:7)

2. God heals our cancers.

The unknown is whether He will heal them here on Earth, or if healing will come in heaven. Most of us don’t want to die. I don’t. We have our good reasons to stay here. But God’s plan for our lives is greater and better than ours. I have learned to accept that God knows best. Always! I think of death now as similar to the way a baby is born, coming out of the darkness of the womb into the light. When I die someday, I will be reborn from the dark tunnel of death into the light of eternal life. The transition may be uncomfortable, but it also must be uncomfortable for a baby to come through the birth canal into life. Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. (Psalm 30:5)

3. God wants us to choose our feelings wisely.

Yes, we have the ability to choose our feelings. My mother died of leukemia. Throughout her illness, she inspired us through her faith and gratitude. She lived each day appreciating all of God’s little gifts—a bird singing, white clouds floating through a cerulean sky, a child’s laughter, an hour without pain. Mom told me, “When I wake up in the morning, I say, ‘Thy will be done, and when I go to bed at night, I say, ‘Thank you.’” Through my mother’s cancer and my own, I have learned to praise God in all circumstances. Praising Him allows me to live joyfully and focus on His gifts instead of my disease. Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

The list of what God has taught me through cancer is long. Maybe I will share more about this with you someday. But the three big things are fight fear, believe that you will be healed, and concentrate every day, every minute, every hour, on God’s gracious gifts.

On Thursday, I got my biopsy results. Negative. Praise God, I remain cancer free. But now I know that if I ever face cancer again, God has taught me a new way to cope: His way—the best way.

Severe Weather Warning for Your Immediate Area!

2011-09-24T12:44:00.009-05:00

If you say, “The LORD is my refuge,” and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent.
Psalm 91:9–10 (NIV)

Did the title of this week’s post grab your attention? I hope so. Before I write more, let’s listen to this Hank Williams song to get us in the mood:

Angry purple clouds hang overhead, their bottoms torn and ragged. From somewhere within them, thunder rumbles echoing off towering walls in unseen caverns. Earlier in the day you felt it, that subtle but discernable hint of something bad in the air. Now, the weather siren warns that a storm is racing right at you, hungry to destroy your possessions and maybe even your life. What do you do? You tune in to the weatherman!

How often do we tune in, I mean really tune in, to the daily weather forecast? Most of us tune in to find out the temperature and whether the sun will shine tomorrow. Then we tune out. All of that changes, though, when dark clouds roll in and the warning siren howls. When that happens, we seek out the weatherman and listen to his every word. We want to know where the storm is now, when will it hit us, how bad will it be. The weatherman can answer those questions, but more importantly he will tell us how to protect ourselves. We might lose some of our things in the storm, but if we follow the weatherman’s advice most of us will live.

Have you ever thought that our relationship with God is a lot like our relationship with the weatherman? On good weather days, we routinely check in with God through Bible reading and prayer, but when bad weather hits, we drop to our knees and plead for more information. “Mr. Weatherman, please tell me that the storm won’t hit me. If it does hit me, tell me that it won’t be bad. If it is bad, Mr. Weatherman, then make it go away without causing much damage. Mr. Weatherman . . . like the song goes . . .

‘I've had too many highs and too many lows
Too many storms and tornadoes
I need some blue skies and sunshine
I need a good forecast tonight.’”

Do you tune in to God in all kinds of weather? He desires that we tune in to Him, really tune in, every day—good weather or bad. The more we learn from Him about weathering storms, the more likely we are to find safe shelter when life-storms come our way. When we rely on God in all kinds of weather, we learn what to do when evil strikes. We find safety through His Word and in our prayerful relationship with Him.

Share with us:
What has God taught you about weathering a life-storm?

You Inspire Me!

2011-09-19T18:03:00.010-05:00

Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.
Luke 6:38 (CEV)

INSPIRATION. With every word I write on this blog, I pray to inspire you to trust more, love more, laugh more, and to believe that our loving God has a plan for your life. In return, I am inspired by YOUR blog posts as God speaks to me through you.

This week I want to share with you three posts by other bloggers that made me pause and think. I hope that you will take the time to read them and that they will inspire you to choose joy over sadness, to be more kind to others, and even to laugh.

First, Ann Voskamp (A Holy Experience)
Ann is the author of the best-selling book "One Thousand Gifts." Her daily blog posts are visually beautiful and always inspiring. In her post "When Longing to Choose Joy," Ann pays tribute to her dear friend Sara.

Next, Sara Frankl (Gitzen Girl)
"Thought for the Day" is one of Sara's last blog posts. A serious illness has confined Sara to her condo for the past three years. Last week, she began the journey home to be with the Lord. Sara's uplifting attitude and her mantra "Choose Joy" have touched so many lives, and her inspiration will live on. (Sara is the friend in Ann's post.)

And then, Renae Brumbaugh (Funny Coffee Girl)
Renae makes me laugh. Her humor reminds me of the late Erma Bombeck's as she tunes in to the details of life and adds a twist of funny. Renae's post "Of Mice and Me" will inspire you to appreciate the little irritations that creep into Our Father's world.

P.S. -- Renae has been busy lately at her other blog, "Morning Coffee With Renae," where she's leading us through the Book of Amos.

Thank you all for stopping by the Compost Pile this week. Until next time, I wish you sweet blessings, God's abundant love, peace, and lots of joy.

It's Not a Coincidence; It's a God Thing!

2011-09-11T16:12:00.017-05:00

You are the God who does wonders; You have declared Your strength among the peoples.
Psalm 77:14 (NKJV)

My post this week is a bit longer than usual, but bear with me. I’m about to tell you a story. It’s one of those stories that people call “a God thing,” something that makes the hair stand up on their arms.

Last Friday, my friend and I met for coffee so I could return a book that I had borrowed from her. In the thirty-plus years that we’ve known each other, we’ve gone for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, but never just coffee. I suggested that we meet at a little place on the west side of town.

As we sat there sipping almond lattes and discussing the book I’d borrowed, I asked, “Have you read ‘Jesus Calling’ by Sarah Young?” My friend hadn’t, so I told her about what an amazing devotional it is. She jotted down the title.

The coffee shop sets next to the only Christian bookstore in town, a small shop that struggles to stay in business and has more than a few empty shelves. When we finished our coffee, my friend suggested that we go inside and look around.

While she browsed, I checked to see if they had any of my books. They didn't. Then I looked for “Jesus Calling.” I didn't find it among the dozen, or so, books on the Devotionals rack.

After a few minutes, we decided to leave. On our way out of the store an autobiography caught my friend’s eye. She decided to buy it. A chubby gentleman stood at the checkout counter. He introduced himself as Anthony, the new owner. As Anthony rang up the book, he said, “Have you heard of ‘Jesus Calling?’” He pointed to a display of Sarah Young’s books in the corner of the shop. My friend looked at me, and I knew what she thought: This is strange. Anthony continued, “The Holy Spirit led me to stock that book. I’ve sold copy after copy. It sells out every time.” (What I didn’t share with my friend or Anthony was just how connected I’ve felt lately to Sarah’s books. That’s something that I decided to keep to myself.)

The conversation with Anthony continued. I told him that I had worked as an editor at Golden Books until the company left our town and moved to New York. “Were you in the Erie Street building?” Anthony asked. Yes, my office had been there, on the third floor. That building and others in the complex have sat empty for years. The real estate company hadn’t found a buyer although the location is prime, on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan.

“It’s sad,” I said, “that those buildings are still vacant and in such disrepair.”

Anthony smiled. He said, “I just bought them." (It turns out that Anthony comes from a well-known, wealthy family in our area.) He told us about his plans for the complex: a new Christian ministry center with a residence for abused women and their children, an auditorium for concerts and worship, a chapel overlooking the lake, and picnic grounds inspired by the Fruits of the Spirit. “The first time I stood on that land, on that bluff,” Anthony said, “I looked out at the lake, and I cried. I felt the Holy Spirit moving there.” He paused. “I tell you; that’s holy ground.”

A chill ran through me. The hair stood up on my arms —
Almost thirty years ago, I also had met the Holy Spirit on that same bluff, on that holy ground. I was an agnostic then, and I had stood there questioning whether God is for real. On that cloudy spring morning, the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart: “Look out at the water, and the sun shall shine upon you as I speak.” Just as He promised, the sun broke through the clouds, and God and I had a conversation. That was the day when I asked Jesus into my heart.

Now Anthony the Bookseller has met Jean the Author. Both of us are connected to the Holy Spirit through that bluff on Lake Michigan, a place that Anthony just purchased to develop for the Lord. Is this a coincidence? No. It’s a God thing—

And I don’t think He’s done with us yet.

(Oh, and by the way, before Golden Books owned that land, guess what occupied it. A Christian college!)

In my first-ever blog post, I wrote about the day that I met the Holy Spirit on the bluff. You can read that post here.

Three Things We Should Remember About 9-11

2011-09-04T11:51:00.020-05:00

And he said to the human race, "The fear of the Lord— that is wisdom, and to shun evil is understanding."
Job 28:28 (NIV)

September 11, 2001 became my generation’s Pearl Harbor. On that day, in the split second when the first plane smashed into the North Tower, America transformed from a safe and secure homeland into a den of anxiety and fear.

What should we remember most on this tenth anniversary of 9-11?

1. We need to remember not only those who lost their lives, but also those most affected by the tragedy: the families and friends of the dead, the rescue and recovery personnel who witnessed unspeakable horrors, the citizens who escaped from the towers and the Pentagon and still wonder why. Ten years later, these individuals relive, with searing clarity, the events of that day, and they need our prayers.

Psalm 71:20-21  Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.

2. We need to remember the extraordinary acts of heroism, not only those publicized, but also those that went unseen. We don’t know most of what happened inside the towers and the Pentagon or inside the doomed planes, but we do know that God places His people, His angels, exactly where they need to be at His appointed time. As nearly 3,000 people perished, we can know that compassionate heroes helped in their transition from the horrors of Earth to the wonders of God’s perfect heaven. In these acts, we find hope.

Psalm 91:11  For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.

3. We need to remember where to look for our strength. As believers we know that our feelings of safety and security go beyond the measures of our home here on Earth. When fear overwhelms us, our strength comes from God. Todd Beamer, a Christian on Flight 93, knew this when he faced his death on 9-11. In a phone call he made from the plane, Todd asked a GTE switchboard operator to pray with him.

“Our Father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed by they Name.
Thy Kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth,
As it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses.
As we forgive them that trespass against us . . .”

Ten years ago on September 11, 2001 evil struck. When it did, the gates of Heaven swung wide open, and a throng of Christians entered all at once. This week, we remember the events that brought them there and also the loving God who watched over us then and watches us still.

Matthew 28:20: Behold, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.

To those we lost that day:

We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Thessalonians 1:3 (NIV)

From the Memorial Service held at the National Cathedral on 9-11-01:

Make Time for God’s Timing

2011-08-29T15:32:00.007-05:00

“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31 NIV)

I had good intent this morning. I got up early, dressed and prepared to head to my favorite writing spot near Lake Michigan. As I climbed into my car, I silently congratulated myself for getting an early start. Then I said a quick prayer asking God to inspire me with an idea for today’s blog post. I stuck the key into the ignition. I turned it. Nothing. Again I tried, this time holding the key a few seconds longer and giving the engine a little more gas. That’s when I noticed that the car’s interior lights were on and had probably been on all weekend. Dead battery.

With impatience brewing within me, I called the service station. Then I sat down in my living room to wait. “Lord,” I whispered. “I have no time for this. Please make them come quickly.” Almost instantly I heard it, God’s still, small voice reminding me of something that I had read in a book last week: “There is no time in Heaven.”

That’s right. Heaven knows nothing but eternity. The only time that matters there is God’s perfect timing, and that holds true here on Earth. The Bible tells us in Psalm 37:7 to wait patiently for God to do His work. Yet, when I look at my own life, I see that so often I view my time as more important than God’s timing. Patience wins God’s approval. The psalmist David says, “I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry.” (Ps. 40:1) Whether we cry out to God about little things, like a dead battery, or about matters of life or death, He hears us. “When His people pray for help, He listens and rescues them [in His own time]” (Ps. 34:17 CEV)

I waited more patiently. The service man arrived and started my car’s battery. Now, later than planned, I am at the lakefront writing this post inspired by God.

A Coast Guard cutter floats fifty yards offshore. It travels slowly across the water, back and forth, its occupants searching each square in an imaginary grid. Several dozen people are gathered on the beach,— brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, grandparents—all waiting patiently near the water’s edge. A passerby told me that they have no choice but to wait. Their ten-year-old relative, a boy, went to be with the Lord while swimming here two days ago. The boy's family kills time, some ambling along the beach, others sitting in lawn chairs staring toward the horizon, a few hugging and holding tight to each other as they wait for his body to be found. And as I look more closely, I see a small group of them raising their hands toward Heaven, praying.

And here I am, no longer grumbling about a dead battery, but instead praying for a dead child's family, and praying, too, that this blog post will inspire you to be patient with the little things that disrupt your schedule, your time. Because, you see, God knows precisely what He is doing, and His timing is always perfect. Those little interruptions happen for a reason as He moves you through life in His time and His way.

Where has God sent you today? Are you impatient about where you are? Look around. Does someone need prayer? Were you sent by God to help? You are exactly where He wants you to be right now, and, in some small way, you are working out His plan.

The Colors of Heaven

2011-08-21T15:36:00.006-05:00

“The foundations of the city walls were decorated with every kind of precious stone. The first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth ruby, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth turquoise, the eleventh jacinth, and the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of gold, as pure as transparent glass.”
Revelation 21:19-21 (NIV)

I was one of those kids who sniffed a box of new crayons and imagined the Northern Lights, or a double rainbow, or the ocean with clouds drifting overhead transforming the water from teal to pea soup green to robin’s-egg blue. My standard back-to-school box of eight crayons wasn’t enough. I wanted the box of sixteen, then twenty-four, then forty-eight crayons. The big box of sixty-four colors was my idea of perfection. Colors like Prussian Blue, Maize, Orchid and Apricot gave my muse exactly what she needed to let down her hair and attempt to re-create the universe on a piece of stark white paper.

As an adult, I've continued my search for new and exciting colors. My current obsession is with Benjamin Moore’s “My Perfect Color” web site. There, I can peruse colors that match my mood, from sleepy — “Moonlit Sidewalk,” “Silver Clouds," “Quiet Haze” — to bold and adventurous – “Deep Mystery,” “Kilimanjaro Thunder," “Australian Desert.” I've learned that any color I can imagine exists somewhere as a paint chip, each one inspired by something in God's creation.

Last week, I read two books that fed my passion for color, “Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back” (Todd Burpo and Lynn Vincent, Published by Thomas Nelson) and “90 Minutes in Heaven: A True Story of Death & Life” (Don Piper and Cecil Murphey, Published by Revell). Each tells the story of a near-death experience, and each provides a hint of the colors in heaven. Both are strikingly similar as they suggest that heavenly colors are beyond any earthly description.

Little Colton Burpo tells us that there are “lots and lots of colors” in heaven. Using a preschoolers’ vocabulary, he can only describe them by saying, “That’s where all the rainbow colors are.” Don Piper takes us one step further in his book. He writes, “As I looked around, I could hardly grasp the vivid, dazzling colors. Every hue and tone surpassed anything I had ever seen . . . Everything around me glowed with a dazzling intensity. In trying to describe the scene, words are totally inadequate, because human words can’t express the feelings of awe and wonder at what I beheld.”

Some of the first words that God spoke to us through the Bible were, “Let there be light.” (Genesis 1:3). As He expanded His creation from light to the sky and the earth, God created colors that He allowed man to name. As I write this blog post, I look around me soaking in all those colors and marveling at their beauty. Then I imagine, beyond my big box of crayons and seemingly infinite number of paint chips, the colors that exist in heaven. Vivid colors. Dazzling colors. Colors so stunning and so indescribable that only God can speak their names.

What effect do earthly colors have on your relationship with God?

Are You Home Yet?

2011-08-14T16:06:00.007-05:00

“I had planted you like a choice vine of sound and reliable stock. . .”
Jeremiah 2:21a (NIV)

Is there a place that beckons to you? Someplace that tugs at your heart? A place where you always feel at home? For me, that place is Lake Michigan. It captured my heart on the day I was born.

I was just hours old when my parents brought me home from the hospital in a February snowstorm. I imagine that as they took me from the car and into our house across the street from the lake, wild, gray waves crashed over mountains of ice on the shore. Those waves were some of the first sounds that I heard. As I lay on my parents’ bed, bundled in warm blankets, Lake Michigan’s waves sang me to sleep. Their soft, rhythmic rushing brought comfort on many a night when I lived in that big, old house on Fifth Avenue. As I grew, from dawn until dusk Lake Michigan was my constant companion, my playground, my classroom, and the place where I felt closest to God.

I have never strayed far from the lake. I went to school at a university near its shore, my career as an editor took me to live in some of its port cities, and now I am settled just a few city blocks from this vast body of water that behaves like the sea. Often, I stand at the water’s edge in awe of how the sun reflects, like diamonds, on its surface and how the gentle waves make music as they wash over smooth stones. “Thank you, God, for planting me here.”

Do you know that God plants His people? He says, in Isaiah 60:21, that people are the shoot He has planted, the work of His hands for the display of His splendor. I believe that God not only has a plan for His people here on Earth, but also a place. Some find themselves firmly planted from the day they are born. Others God picks up and transplants where they are supposed to be. Wherever our place is, we will know it when we get there because it feels right. It feels like home.

Have you thought about it? Are you at home where you are, or is somewhere tugging at your heart and beckoning you to come? Even if you haven't yet found your place here on Earth, you can be sure of this: Jesus has gone to Heaven to prepare a place for you, and some day you will live there with Him forever.

"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 14:3 (NIV)

Trust Your Sonscreen

2011-08-02T12:57:00.012-05:00

I cared for you in the wilderness, in the land of burning heat. Hosea 13:5

It’s one of the hottest summers on record. How hot is it? It’s so hot that your car’s seatbelt feels like a branding iron. When you go for a walk, you worry about passing out from the heat and frying on the concrete pavement. It’s so hot that farmers feed their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs! Okay, I’m exaggerating. But it is hot outside.

The media constantly reminds us that a good sunscreen provides the best protection from the sun’s ultraviolet rays. Without it, we risk getting sunburn or worse skin cancer.

Sunscreen is effective in a very simple way. Ultraviolet radiation from the sun consists of several different kinds of wavelengths. Protection from these unique waves comes in different forms. Sunscreen combines organic and inorganic ingredients that either reflect the sun’s rays or absorb and dissipate them as heat. The simple act of applying sunscreen shelters your skin from up to 98 percent of the sun’s harmful rays.

Ninety-eight percent protection is good, but as Christians we have access to an even better 100% guaranteed source of protection. Jesus Christ—the world’s best Sonscreen! Jesus protects our souls from life’s searing heat. The simple act of believing in Him guarantees that He will protect our souls from burning to a crisp or dying an agonizing cancerous death. When we apply Jesus rigorously and religiously to our lives, then we receive the full benefit of His protection. He will either reflect life’s harmful rays or allow us to absorb them and dissipate them in a Christ-like way.

If you trust in the protective power of sunscreen, a simple man-made substance, then how can you not trust in the protection that comes from Jesus Christ, our Savior, created by God Himself? Do you apply Jesus regularly throughout the day, every day? Do you believe that He will protect you?

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. 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. (Psalm 121:5-8 NIV)

Our God Is Simply Indescribable

2011-07-22T12:33:00.013-05:00

And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you. Exodus 3:14 (KJV)

In the Book of Exodus, we read that when God commissioned Moses to return to Egypt and free the Israelites, Moses asked Him: “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?” [And] God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:13-14 NIV)

Can you imagine how frustrated Moses must have felt? How would he explain when the people ask, “Who sent you?”

“I AM,” Moses answers.

“You are what?” the people respond.

“I am Moses,” he says, “And I AM sent me.”

“Who?”

“I AM!!”

It sounds like that old Abbot and Costello skit “Who’s on First?” doesn’t it? Still, as confusing as it might sound, God chose to describe Himself simply as I AM. But why?

Bible scholars have offered vast and complicated answers, but I think the clearest explanation lies in very basic grammar — the adjective — a word that describes or modifies a person or thing in a sentence.

In kindergarten, children learn simple comparative adjectives like big, bigger, biggest. The last is called a superlative adjective. A superlative adjective expresses the extreme or highest degree of a quality.

So what does this have to do with God calling Himself I AM? The answer is that God is beyond any description or modification offered by even a superlative adjective. He is bigger than biggest, greater than greatest, mightier than mightiest. There are no words, nor will there ever be, adequate enough to describe our God.

God, our Father, the Great I AM. Simply indescribable.

Refreshment to Beat the Heat

2011-07-18T20:34:00.007-05:00

"You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat . . . "Isaiah 25:4 (NIV)

An Ironman Triathlon (half iron) was held here yesterday in sweltering summer heat. I am not an athlete, and while I admire those who are, I cannot imagine swimming a mile and a half, then biking 56 miles and running another 13 in 90-plus heat and high humidity. Still, there are those who thrive on testing their limits and meeting such a challenge.

Race organizers set up cooling stations at each mile along the course where bikers and runners could enjoy a spray of cold mist against their feverish skin and gulp down a welcome drink of water. Homeowners hauled out their garden hoses and sprayed athletes as they biked and ran through shadeless streets. Some offered paper cups filled with ice water or Gatorade. And everywhere the athletes went, they heard cheers: “You can do it! Don’t give up!” When the race ended, only six-percent of the participants had dropped out. The other ninety-four percent persevered and crossed the finish line against all odds. They attributed their stamina to the refreshment and encouragement that they received along the way.

Life sometimes feels like a punishing race in summer’s heat. The author of the Book of Acts wrote: “I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me.” (20:24 NIV) The course might be oppressively hot at times, and we might feel like giving up, but when we persevere with faith and trust in the Lord’s help, “[we] will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:18 NIV)

We Christians run life’s race through faith, not only faith in Jesus Christ, but also faith in our God-given abilities and our Christian helpers along the way. When we give of ourselves using the example of Christ, then when our race is finally over, we can say in all truth, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. (2 Timothy 4:6-8 NIV)

Today, many of us sit comfortably in our air-conditioned homes and offices and wait out the heat knowing that it will end. Others around us are miserable and in need of refreshment. This applies not only literally, but also figuratively. We all know friends and family members who are in need of finding refreshment in faith. God’s great love flows through us so that we who have been helped can help others.

Will you provide refreshment to those running a harsh and oppressive race? Reach out today. Offer them the cool, comforting love of Christ.

Dear God, Help me to help those in need of receiving your love, and when I help, deliver me from myself and from spiritual exhibitionism; for you see what is done in secret, and you know that what I do is for you. That alone is enough for me. Thank you, Lord. Amen

When the End Means the Beginning

2011-04-10T11:30:00.004-05:00

“It is finished.”
John 19:30

I stayed up late last night watching the Facebook status, waiting for news about Baby Annabelle. Annabelle’s mom is one of my Facebook friends, and I, along with many others, have prayed for Annabelle since she was born with a rare heart condition. A heart transplant was Annabelle’s only hope for survival, and late last night, she got her new heart. As I write this the baby is doing well, and I pray that soon she can go home with her family. Annabelle has spent all of her short life, nine months, in the hospital.

As I thanked God for Annabelle’s new heart, I remembered the donor family. Someone lost their child yesterday. Annabelle’s family’s joy came at the price of another family’s sorrow. Life is like that sometimes—a horrific event in some way brings blessings. We may not always see them. God’s blessings sometimes remain hidden to us, but He knows. To everything there is a purpose.

I’m thinking of that Friday, two thousand years ago, when Pontius Pilate turned Jesus over to the crowd to be crucified. Jesus, the beloved Rabbi, the Teacher. What a horrendous sight: Jesus of Nazareth, beaten and bleeding, nailed to a cross, dying. Such a sorrowful day for those who loved Him.

The greatest blessing of all lay in God’s hands that Friday, hidden, ready to reveal in His time and according to His purpose. Those who stood weeping at the foot of the cross could never imagine that Jesus’ death was necessary for our eternal life or that His suffering would bring infinite joy.

Last night, when Annabelle’s surgery was over, her mom posted “It’s finished” on her Facebook status. Just before Jesus died, He, too, said, “It is finished.”

Sometimes, the end is just the beginning.

I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.’ Isaiah 46:10 (NIV)

When Your Hair Goes to Seed, Praise God!

2011-02-26T14:54:00.006-06:00

Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever.
Psalm 136:26 (NIV)

The other morning, I rolled out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh, no! My hair had gone to seed. You know what I mean. About every six weeks or so, gremlins come in the night and make your hair grow just enough that it’s ratty. You go to bed with your hair looking halfway decent, and you get up in the morning with it looking like . . . well . . . a plant that grew out of control and went to seed!

I called the beauty salon.

“JoAnn is out until Tuesday,” Cheryl told me. “Do you want an appointment with someone else?”

I didn’t. I complained about it on Facebook:

I really need a haircut. My hair went to seed last night, and my beautician isn't in until next Tuesday. Can I make it till then?

The replies came in:

Renae said: Sure you can. Wear a cute hat, and people will just think you're trendy.

I responded with:

How about a cheesehead? Would that work? (I live in Wisconsin.)

Joyce chimed in:

I'm in the same predicament, my hair is thick as mud and my appointment is on Wed., I don't know if I can hold out...anyone who needs hair, I will gladly donate. It's a hairy situation!

Then my friend Diana posted her reply:

It is a blessing to need a haircut--better than being bald and cold.

You might chuckle at that response, but wait. Diana just finished her last round of chemo after almost a year of fighting ovarian cancer. She gets it that hair is a blessing, especially in the middle of this cold, snowy winter.

In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, Paul writes: “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” I often forget to thank God for the little things. It is a blessing each time my heart beats. I am blessed when I open my eyes from sleep, and I can see. I should shout praises to God that I can hear, think, feel, walk, speak, breathe and a million other things that I take for granted!

Thank you, Diana, for reminding me that it is a blessing to need a haircut. And thank you, God, that my hair went to seed.

What Is Your Legacy?

2011-02-17T14:55:00.006-06:00

You will make known to me the path of life
Psalm 116:11(a) [NASB]

I love sailing ships. I don’t mean cruise ships with their heated swimming pools and all-you-can-eat buffets, but old, wooden tall ships, the kind with masts and cloth sails. A few years ago, at a tall ship festival, I sailed on a replica of a three-masted schooner. As I stood on the deck savoring the sounds of waves slapping against the hull and the coolness of sea spray on my face, I felt certain that sailing was in my blood. But why did I feel that way? Why did it feel so right for me to be sailing on an old wood ship surrounded by nothing but water?

Years ago, my mother had shared with me bits of information about her ancestors. They fought in the Civil War and traveled cross-country in covered wagons. Maybe they lived in the colonies, but Mom wasn’t sure about that. Since I don’t like missing pieces, I began searching for them, and when I found them and put them together, I discovered something amazing.

My great-grandfather’s name was William Doty. His father was Nathan Doty. Nathan’s father was Joseph, and Joseph’s father was another William. His father was Jacob, and Jacob’s father was Isaac, and Isaac’s father was Edward. None of this meant anything to me until I dug deeper into the lives of these men. There I discovered my legacy—the path God set for my very existence.

Edward Doty was one of the first emigrants to live on what is now U. S. soil. Almost four hundred years ago, in 1620, he stood on the deck of a wooden tall ship 95-feet long with a three-masted rig of courses and topsails. While sailing from England to North America, he heard the waves slap the hull, and he felt the sea spray on his face, just as I would in the twenty-first century. It must have felt good to Edward, my seventh great-grandfather. It must have felt right as he headed toward his destination. The name of his ship? The Mayflower.

See? Sailing is in my genes.

Generation after generation, since the foundation of time, we are God’s children. He sets the course of our lives from birth to eternity. In the beginning, God said to Adam and Eve, “Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth.” Adam and Eve gave birth to Cain and Cain’s son was Enoch, and Enoch’s son was Irad . . . and on and on. The Bible says in Psalm 127:3, “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.” (NIV) Do you know your heritage? Who walked ahead of you on the path of your life?

Have you ever experienced a déjà vu moment that might connect you with an ancient ancestor?

Manna in a Snowstorm

2011-02-03T14:58:00.003-06:00

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Psalm 23:1

“Manna.” If you’re a Christian, you know the word and its story. In Exodus 16, we find the Israelites trekking through the desert grumbling about being hungry and blaming their leader, Moses. “We should have stayed home and taken our chances at being killed,” they said. “Back home, we had all the food we wanted, and now look, we’re starving, and it’s all your fault!” (Sounds like a road trip with the kids, doesn’t it?) Moses knew exactly what to do. He took the problem to God. And God said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you.” (Exodus 16:4a) Every morning, small white, round pieces of food appeared with the dew—manna. God provided the exact amount the Israelites needed, no more, no less.

This week in southeast Wisconsin, we’ve been walking through a frozen desert. Snow fell from the sky, lots of it, and as we faced digging out, we grumbled. “We should have gone to Florida for the winter! We’re stuck in the snow, and we’ll never get out.” Some of us took the problem to God, and it was no surprise that He provided manna—exactly what we needed, exactly when we needed it.

Tuesday evening a blizzard stranded motorists in their cars on the Interstate. When rescue workers couldn’t reach them, a local snowmobile club heard about it and volunteered to help. Manna. The blizzard got worse. Firefighters and paramedics couldn’t get through city streets to answer calls. The National Guard showed up in Humvees to help out. Manna. By daybreak on Wednesday, the storm had ended, and we faced moving two feet of snow and drifts up to ten-feet high. Neighbors helped neighbors. Strangers helped out. The mayor organized groups of volunteers to help the sick and elderly. Manna. During the Blizzard of 2011, our great and loving God provided for our needs just as he had for the Israelites back in Moses’ time.

Philippians 4:19 says, “And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” Whatever we need, whenever we need it, God provides.

What kind of manna has the Lord provided for you?

On My Father's Shoulders

2011-01-27T16:42:00.003-06:00

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.  I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.
Isaiah 46:4

This cold Wisconsin winter reminds me of one many years ago when the inland lakes froze early and hard. I was seven or eight then, and I wondered about all the little houses that suddenly appeared on frozen Twin Lake. Dad explained that they were fishing shelters set up to keep the ice fishermen warm. I wondered if it were safe to be sitting in one of those shelters in the middle of the lake. What if the ice weren’t thick enough and the shelter fell through?

One day, Dad invited me to go ice fishing with him. I don’t think it was entirely his idea. Mom had other plans that sunny Saturday morning, and Dad didn’t want to give up his weekly date with the fish. So Dad and I headed out to Twin Lake. When we got there, Dad pulled his shelter out of the car’s trunk. He didn’t have an ice shelter as grand as those ramshackle wooden ones on the lake. His was a portable canvas tent, small, army khaki and enclosed on three sides, more of a windbreaker than a shelter. With it still folded and in its case, Dad put his shelter on my Flexible Flyer sled, and we headed toward the ice. When we got to the edge, I froze. The only person I knew of who had successfully walked across water was Jesus, and only He could do things like that.

“What’s the matter?” Dad asked.

“I don’t want to step on it,” I told him.

He held my mittened hand and gently tried to pull me onto the ice. I resisted. “What if we fall through?”

“We won’t fall through,” he promised. “The ice is nice and thick.”

Then, seeing that I wasn’t going anywhere, he hoisted me up onto his strong shoulders and carried me onto the frozen water.

In a little while, it didn’t matter to me anymore that the shoreline seemed far away. Dad knew that the ice would hold us, and he was there to protect me. I felt safe riding on my father’s shoulders all the way to the middle of the lake.

Dad died a few years ago, and along with him died a sense of security that I’d known since childhood. Dad—always my protector.

In Psalm 121 verses 1 through 8, the psalmist writes: “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. 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. 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. 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.” These are wise words to remember when we worry that we’re walking on thin ice. God is our protector! When we stop short, frozen with fear, He picks us up and carries us safely on His shoulders.

Heavenly Father, When the ground we walk on seems unstable, we trust that you won’t let us fall. You made us. You will sustain us and carry us whenever we are afraid. Thank you, Father, for lifting us up onto your strong, capable shoulders and protecting us from harm. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

A Septillion Snowflakes

2011-01-12T15:14:00.015-06:00

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
Psalm 139:14 (NASB)

Snowflakes! They fell everywhere this week, even in the Deep South. In fact, many news agencies are reporting that the only state with no snow on the ground is Florida. So, how much of the white stuff can we expect? Well, in an average winter about one septillion snowflakes fall from the sky, and this is no average winter. To put it in perspective, a septillion is equal to a trillion trillion, and by the end of this winter it will all add up to— well—a lot of snowflakes!

Now consider that no two snowflakes are alike. How do we know this? Because, according to crystallographers (scientists who study the structure of crystals), not all water molecules are exactly the same, and snowflakes are made up of water molecules. Add winter's unstable atmospheric conditions. Snowflakes react to temperature changes as they pass through the atmosphere, and that causes them to change their shape and design. To find any two exactly alike is virtually impossible.

A septillion snowflakes, no two alike, each brilliantly designed by our Creator.

Like snowflakes, we humans are unique and complex. Each of us is shaped for God’s purpose. He not only gives us one-of-a-kind DNA, but also unique creative gifts (1 Corinthians 7:7), reasons for existence (Ephesians 1:11), abilities (2 Corinthians 3:5), personalities (1 Samuel 16:7) and experiences (Romans 8:28).

So, the next time you look out your window and see pretty snowflakes spilling from the sky, remember that you are not all that different from these matchless, tiny masses of ice. In God’s eyes you are small, and yet you are a perfect and indispensable part of His great and mighty plan.

Have a little fun today. Barkley Interactive offers a virtual snowflake maker. Click HERE,
but be warned it’s addictive.

10 New Year's Resolutions From the Bible

2010-12-27T12:10:00.007-06:00

“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 wilderness  and streams in the wasteland."
Isaiah 43:18-19 (NIV)

I’ve always loved those two verses from Isaiah. They remind me that no matter what happened yesterday, God gives me hope for today!

This is the week when we make resolutions. We resolve to put the events of this year in the past and move forward into the new year with a fresh start.

What do you hope to accomplish in 2011? Will you resolve to shed weight? Squash a bad habit? Work out at the gym? Spend more time with your family?

As you make your list of resolutions, consider these

10 New Year's Resolutions From the Bible:

I will try not to be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present my requests to God. (Philippians 4:6)

Instead of depending on my own wisdom, I will seek the wisdom of the Lord. I will respect Him and refuse to do wrong. (Proverbs 3:7)

If someone mistreats me, I will not mistreat that person in return. Instead, I will try to earn the respect of others, and I will do my best to live at peace with everyone. (Romans 12:17-18)

I will remember not to judge people, because in the same way that I judge them, they might judge me. (Matthew 7:1-2)

I will never let love and faithfulness leave me. I will remember them every day and keep them in my heart. (Proverbs 3:3)

I will honor the Lord with whatever I earn and by doing the best that I can. (Proverbs 3:9)

I will study my Bible and be careful to follow only those teachers who are true messengers of God. (Matthew 7:15)

With all my heart, I will trust in the Lord and not in my own judgment. I will always let Him lead me and make clear to me the road I should follow. (Proverbs 3:5-6)

I will love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul and strength. (Deuteronomy 6:5)

Finally, I will fix my thoughts on what is true and honorable, and right and pure, and lovely and admirable. I will concentrate on things that are excellent and worthy of praise. (Philippians 4:8)

As we enter 2011, I wish all of you a year filled with faith, hope, love,
and resolutions fulfilled through blessings from God.

Approaching That Silent Night

2010-12-20T00:01:00.006-06:00

A RE-POST FROM LAST YEAR

Have you known a night so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face? Have you experienced a night so silent that you heard your own heart beat? Nights like these were common in the fields near Bethlehem. It was an ancient time before electricity and technology brought a surplus of light and noise into the world.

Imagine shepherds in the fields on such a dark night. Suddenly, the sky tears open and a bright light shines down upon them. The shepherds are terrified. Where is the light coming from? Are they about to die? Then an angel emerges from the radiant glow and proclaims, "Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." (Luke 2:10-14 KJV). The black, silent night had become the Holy Night -- the night that the Savior, the Messiah, the Holy One came into the world!

This was the night that Father Joseph Mohr imagined when, in 1816, he wrote the lyrics to "Silent Night" in the form of a poem. It is believed that Mohr was living in Mariapfarr in the Alpine Lungau region of Salzburg, Austria, when he wrote it. Two years later, he was called to serve the parish of St. Nicola in Oberndorf. There he became acquainted with the church organist Franz Xaver Gruber.

The legend goes that the church organ was broken on Christmas Eve 1818. Mohr presented Gruber with his "Silent Night" poem, and the two of them quickly composed a tune for two solo voices and the choir to be accompanied by a guitar. The song was performed for the first time that Christmas Eve in St. Nicola Church in Oberndorf. The rest, as they say, is history.

Several years ago, I came across an amazing web site, StilleNach.info. Its aim is to educate about the origin of the famous carol. Here, you will find links to information about Mohr and Gruber, the original sheet music, the Silent Night Museum, and much more.

The most interesting link on the site is the Silent Night Chapel, a small memorial chapel built on the place where St. Nicola church once stood. Each year, thousands of tourists visit the chapel, and each year on Christmas Eve there is a short service that ends with the singing of the beloved carol as it was originally composed. The web site features a live web cam. Best of all, the Christmas Eve service is broadcast live each year. Try not to miss it this December 24th. It will leave you wanting to travel to Austria for next year's celebration.

Christmas Eve is near – that night, that silent, holy night when the Light of the World swept the darkness away. For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 KJV) Let us rejoice and be glad!

Dear Father: We thank you for the Holy Night when you sent your Son into the world to save us from our sins. As we rejoice and celebrate, fill our hearts with love for our Savior. In His name we pray. Amen

Sometimes, It’s More Blessed to Receive

2010-12-16T09:28:00.005-06:00

Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4

I’ve lived with the Grinch. His name was Dad, and while my father didn't hate Christmas, he wasn't a fan of the gifting part. He didn't mind giving presents, but he loathed receiving them.

"Don't get me anything," he'd warn. “I don’t want to see anything under the tree with my name on it.”

On Christmas morning when it was time to open the presents, Dad made every excuse not to open his. Finally, after we insisted, he'd reluctantly unwrap his gifts complaining all the way. “I don’t deserve this,” he’d say, holding up a new fishing reel, or shirt, or pair of cuff links. “Thanks, but I don’t deserve it.”

Dad’s reaction took all the fun out of giving. We disliked shopping for him, because we always assumed that whatever we chose wouldn’t be good enough. Even more, we were hurt by his reaction to our presents.

Now that I’m much older, I understand. Dad didn’t feel worthy. At any occasion when he received a gift, he did so with guilt, and he accepted what he got not with a sense of joy, but with shame.

I’ve learned that I have a similar relationship with Jesus Christ. In my prayer life, I have no trouble asking for things for family members, friends and even strangers, but when it comes to gifts for myself, I don’t feel deserving or worthy. I never boldly approach God’s throne of grace, as the Bible instructs in Hebrews 4:16. Instead, I shamble there, embarrassed and reluctant to ask God for what I want.

Recently, I thought about how the Lord must feel when He gives me the desires of my heart, and instead of being open to receive them with joy, I accept His blessings with a shamed and guilt-ridden spirit.

Jesus, I’m sorry. I resolve to change. With each coming day, like a child at Christmas, I’ll await your gifts with eager anticipation. And when they arrive, I’ll tear off the wrapping paper and delight in what you’ve given me. No more guilt. No more shame. I’ll accept your gifts earnestly with a joyful and grateful heart.

That Forbidden Word — “Christ"

2010-12-10T19:21:00.017-06:00

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
Luke 2:11 (KJV)

Today it’s rare to hear merchants wish customers a Merry Christmas. Some even forbid their employees to say it. We don’t want to utter that word. You know the one: “Christ.” It might offend someone.

I’m old enough to remember when Christmas was Christmas. When I was little, everyone went downtown to shop. No malls for us. Most people had never even heard of a shopping mall. In December, stores stayed open late on Friday nights, and only on Friday nights. Waiting until after supper meant you risked not finding a parking spot. Christmas lights stretched across Main Street from light post to light post. If you’re much younger than I am, you’ve probably only seen this kind street decoration in “A Christmas Story.” You know, the movie about the kid wanting a Red Rider BB gun? Our downtown was a lot like that. Hard to imagine when looking at Main Street today with its empty storefronts. No one goes downtown anymore. And elaborate Christmas lights? They’re too expensive to install and maintain. Some fake green garland wrapped around a light post with a wreath atop and a banner that says “Happy Holidays.” That's all.

When I was a kid, The Salvation Army Band played Christmas carols on downtown street corners, and school and church choirs performed in the town square. And yes, they sang about Christ. A tall Christmas tree stood in the center of the square strung with big, multicolored light bulbs, the kind where the whole string goes dark when one light burns out. Sometimes, the fire department willingly sent a crew in a ladder truck to help change a bulb on an upper branch. No problem. No charge. An empty stable with an empty manger stood in front of the tree, and the week before Christmas, folks from the local churches put on a living nativity complete with real animals, a real Baby Jesus and a chorus of angels. The angels sang “Away in a Manger,” and when they sang about Jesus, no one protested. Not so in the town square today. When a Christian church wanted to set up a small nativity display, it caused a public debate. They finally got permission. Then, the Unitarian church worried that not all world religions were represented, so they put up a “peace obelisk.” No problem until a question was raised about whether or not the nativity scene and the obelisk were erected in the right spots according to proper city procedures. (Read about it here.) Atheist groups chimed in that Christmas doesn’t need Christ or God anyhow. (Here’s some of what they had to say.) And Jesus, the One they call “Christ?” He’s staying out of it — for now.

Today, when someone wishes me “Happy Holidays,” I reply with a hearty “Merry Christmas!” I do it because I remember downtown, and the Salvation Army Band, and choirs and the merry spirit that dwelt within us then, the spirit of CHRIST. There, I’ve said it – that offensive word. And I’ll say it again and again: ”Merry, Merry Christmas!”

Christmas Lights

2010-12-03T14:44:00.006-06:00

And God said: Let there be light: and there was light. Genesis 1:3

“Turn off the lights first! Daddy, tell them to shut off the lights.”

I heard the plea of a little boy, last Sunday, at our zoo’s annual Christmas lighting ceremony. The Kiwana’s Club decorates the zoo grounds with a generous light display, and Sunday, the boy in a crowd of two thousand waited with eager anticipation.

“Turn off the lights! Daddy, tell them to shut off the lights.” He pointed first to the security lights on the monkey house and then to those on the lions’ cage.

The father put his hands on his son’s shoulders, bent down and gently asked him to be quiet.

“But no, Daddy!” he protested. Then, remembering another tradition, he said, “It’s like the birthday cake. It has to be dark first.”

Maybe they heard him, I don’t know, but the lights went out and the crowd grew still. Then, in a split second, the grounds and the sky exploded into a symphony of light. A train made of multicolored lights chugged around the beaver pond while a cascade of white lights spilled into the water. The little boy watched as an amber ape family swung from a fence almost within reach of the real giraffes. Green lights lit even the tallest trees, and everywhere you looked, there were lights.

“It’s Christmas!” he shouted, jumping up and down. “The lights came on! The lights came on!”

It was like that on the night that Christ was born. A heavenly angel waited with anticipation until the coal-black darkness descended on the field where shepherds watched their sheep. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, she appeared in a burst of light so powerful that the shepherds shielded their eyes.

“Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord!”

She might as well have shouted, “The lights came on! The lights came on!” because it was the night when Light conquered Darkness, a light so pure and bright, a light everlasting.

When we decorate, inside and out, with Christmas lights, we celebrate the birth of Christ, the Light of the World. This holiday season, take time to look at the lights. Notice how they bring a sense of safety to the once dark street corners and watch how they add warmth to your home. Then thank God. Thank Him for sending the Baby Jesus who grew up to lead our souls out of darkness and into the Light – forever and evermore.

The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.
John 1:5 NLT

And the little boy sang:

Nine-Months Pregnant and 100 Miles to Go

2010-11-26T17:43:00.000-06:00

"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

Matthew 28:20b

Can you imagine being almost nine months pregnant and receiving the news that you have to travel almost 100 miles – on foot! That's the quandary that Mary found herself in when Caesar Augustus sent out a decree that the entire Roman world should be taxed. Everyone was required to return to their hometowns to be counted, and that meant that Mary and Joseph had to pack quickly for a journey from their home in Nazareth to the town of Bethlehem, about 92 miles away. What went through Mary's head just then? She knew that she was chosen to give birth to the Son of God, but she had no clue where the birth might happen. (See Luke 1:26-35) Did she worry that she might have the baby on the road to Bethlehem? Did she wonder if she had the strength to make the journey at all?

As I set up my nativity scene this week, I thought about these things, and I wondered: What was the journey really like for Mary and Joseph? The only account of it is found in Luke 2:1-5.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. (KJV)

That's not a lot of information for a writer, like myself, who thrives on details. So, I searched the Internet to see if I could find the route that Mary and Joseph might have taken and if it held clues about their travels. I found this interesting account by D. Kelly Ogden on the Church of Jesus Christ Latter-Day Saints web site.

"They would probably have made the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem by one of two routes. One would have taken them south across the Jezreel Valley, then through the hills of Samaria into Judaea. This is the more direct route in straight-line distance -- but there are two reasons it probably was not the way Joseph and Mary went: It is physically demanding, with constant ups and downs through the hills -- and it took the traveler directly through Samaritan country, and “the Jews [had] no dealings with the Samaritans” (John 4:9).

The other possible route is the one Joseph and Mary more likely traveled. It would have taken them southeast across the Jezreel Valley, connecting with the Jordan Valley, then level or slightly down in elevation all the way to Jericho, then up through the Judaean Desert to Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

To discover for myself what each of the routes would have been like, I have walked both of them. Both routes are about ninety-two miles long. Normal walking pace, even with a camel or donkey, is three miles per hour. So a traveler can usually walk between seventeen and twenty-four miles each day. Each route took me about thirty hours to walk—seventeen to twenty miles a day for five days.

At that rate, the journey would have taken Joseph and Mary at least four to five days. We wonder where they stayed each night, where and with whom they camped along the way. It would have been a wearying journey for anyone, but especially for a pregnant woman soon to give birth. It was early spring, which can still be very chilly at night in the hill country. However, in the Jordan Valley -- which is below sea level -- the temperatures would have been mild and pleasant.

The last leg of the eastern route would have been the hardest of all. Jericho is the lowest city on the globe, and Jerusalem and Bethlehem are situated right in the top of the hills. From Jericho’s desert to Bethlehem is an uphill hike of 3,500 feet. How exhausted Mary must have been! How anxious Joseph must have been to find a comfortable room at the inn! Desperate to find adequate shelter, they may have resorted at last to a limestone cave used for a stable." [D. Kelly Ogden, “The Road to Bethlehem,” Ensign, Dec 1995]

Imagine that. Mary walked, or perhaps rode on a donkey, for 92 miles, part of it through a desert, camped at night in God knows what kind of weather, and then ended her journey with a 3500-foot uphill hike; all of it when she was nine-months pregnant. This only adds to the miracle of Christ's birth.

This week, take time to think of Mary and Joseph as they traveled to Bethlehem. Contemplate the trip and the difficulties they might have encountered. Then remember that God was with them every step of the way, just as He's with us now, guiding us through this journey called "life."

Kind Heavenly Father: Guide us through this Christmas season, and lead us in prayerful remembrance to the hour when Christ was born. Amen

Seeds of Faith, Sheaves of Joy

2010-11-19T00:09:00.016-06:00

"Going forth with weeping, sowing for the master
Tho' the loss sustains our spirit often grieves
When our weeping's over, He will bid us welcome
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves"

From the hymn “Bringing in the Sheaves,”words by Rev. Knowles Shaw (1834-1878)

My mother’s family has a strong heritage of hard work and faith. Her first ancestor in this country was a Calvanist Christian, a Pilgrim who arrived on the Mayflower. His sons and grandsons became Presbyterian ministers who preached to colonists and soldiers during the American Revolution. Eventually, a many-great-grandfather brought his family by covered wagon from the East Coast to settle a small farm in the Midwest.

Stories handed down through the generations made their way to me, and when winter sets in, I imagine my pioneer ancestors gathered around a fireplace in their one-room cabin seeking to survive the winter’s cold.

Before late November, the time when we celebrate Thanksgiving, my farmer ancestors brought in the sheaves. There was no money for a reaper, so they harvested wheat the old-fashioned way, stooping down, gathering, and cutting a handful at a time with a short handled sickle. They raked the cut grain into sheaves, which were bundles tied together using several twisted stalks of wheat. After they harvested the grain, there was no better way of separating it from the straw than with a flail. They cleaned off a space of level earth, packed it as hard as possible, and, laying the sheaves of grain there, they pounded it with the flail until most of the grain was beaten out. Then, my family gave thanks to God for this grain that would feed them through the long, sharp winter.

Their days of Thanksgiving gave way to hardship. The story continues that the family left the farm when winter departed, but without their young son who must have died between the days of Thanksgiving and the first signs of spring.

That I exist today a faithful Christian, having learned my faith from my mother who learned from her mother and grandmother—faith passed down through generations—is proof that my ancestors survived their heartache and stayed strong in the Lord.

Psalm 126:6 says: Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them. My ancestors left their farm weeping, but they brought with them wheat seeds to sow. The heritage of my faith is proof that their dark days gave way to light, and less than a year after losing their son, they rejoiced and thanked God, once again, as they brought in the sheaves.

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the grains of faith that sustain us in winter, and for seeds that turn into sheaves of joy.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers.
May you be blessed with an abundance of faith and joy.

Have You Settled In Yet?

2010-10-29T19:55:00.009-05:00

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1

The storm windows are on, the garden put to bed, and I’ve traded backyard campfires for fires in the fireplace. Hot apple cider fills my travel mug now instead of the iced coffee that sustained me all summer. Flannels, sweaters and fleece hang at the front of the closet, and there's an extra blanket on the bed. I’ve stashed a stack of novels in the bookcase to await snowy days, and finally my to-do list has only a few items left unchecked.

I’m settling in for winter.

Look around and you’ll see all God’s creatures settling in. Bears, their noses dirty from digging, scoop leaves into well-hidden dens. Squirrels carry mouthfuls of leaves and twigs high into treetops to stuff into their cozy nests. Geese, in V-shaped flocks, fly south in search of a milder winter and plentiful food. Even pet cats seek sunny windowsills and spend hours curled in their cat beds, snoozing. Everywhere you look, animals and people prepare to hibernate, migrate, or adapt to the season.

We have come to November, that month of settling in, the season when we slow down with the waning light of day and prepare for quiet winter nights. Somehow, God seems closer now. Maybe it’s because in long hours of darkness we sense the need for His protection and want to snuggle in His strong, loving arms.

In Mark 6:31, Jesus said to his apostles, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place. You need to get some rest." (NLrV)

So let’s go. Let’s go away to Winter, that quiet place. Let’s spend our nights reading God’s Word, singing His praises and thanking Him for His blessings. Let’s cozy up to warm fires with family and friends and rejoice in the gift of fellowship. Let’s put aside the seasons of coming and going, the days of no leisure . . .because winter is upon us—the quiet place, the place where Jesus calls us to rest.

Hachiko: Waiting for his Master

2010-10-17T14:56:00.011-05:00

When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Colossians 3:4

I watched a wonderful movie this weekend called “Hachi: A Dog’s Tale.” It is a special story about love, loyalty and the relationship between a dog and its master. (Warning: the following contains a “spoiler,” so if you’d rather not know the plot, please watch the movie before you read on.)

Every weekday, college professor Parker Wilson commutes to his work by train. Late one afternoon when he returns to the train station, he finds an Akita puppy abandoned there. He takes it home, and his wife discourages him from keeping it, but a bond already exists between the man and the dog. Parker names the puppy Hachiko – Hachi for short – after the Japanese symbol for luck that he finds etched on a tag on the lost puppy’s collar.

Before long, Hachi begins trotting alongside Parker when he walks to the station. Nothing can stop the dog from his daily trek. He digs under fences and jumps over them to accompany his master. And every day Hachi sits outside the train station and waits for Parker to come home.

This goes on for several years until one day when Parker doesn’t return on his usual train. Hachi waits. Another train arrives then another and another, but Parker isn’t on any of them. Finally, long after dark, an SUV pulls up to the station. Parker’s son-in-law is there to take Hachi home, and we learn that Parker isn’t coming back; he went to be with the Lord.

Although Hachi has a new family that loves him, this dear, sweet dog remains loyal to his master. Every day, year after year, he goes to the station to wait. From dawn until the last train arrives, through all the seasons, rain, sleet and snow, Hachi sits waiting. The train yard becomes his home. He exists fed by good Samaritans and sleeping under boxcars.

Hachi waits. He waits until, old and feeble, he lies down in the snow one night and drifts off toward sleep. Then he hears it, one more train. He watches as travelers pour from the station's door, and then Hachi sees him – Parker! His master has finally come to take him home. It ends a joyful day for Hachi, and Parker, too, as they run off together through a sun-filled woods.

Like Hachi, we Christians wait, too. We wait for our Master. He was with us once here on Earth, and we know he’s coming back; so we wait. Each and every day, one generation linking to another, we return to the source of our faith where we wait for the door to open and our Master to come and take us home.

Matthew 24:42 tells us: “Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.” The story of Hachi, which by the way is based on a true story, reminds us to be loyal to our Master. He is coming someday. We won’t give up on Him. We won't give up because we know, and we’re sure . . . so we wait.

*****

Watch the movie trailer for "Hachi: A Dog's Tale"

Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Fear Strikes the Queen!

2010-10-01T15:17:00.016-05:00

“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart.”
Isaiah 40:11 NIV

Like most pets, Pepper hates going to the veterinarian. Her annual checkup was last week, and this time I managed to keep the appointment a secret. Pepper sleeps soundly, so in the middle of the night, veiled in darkness, I slipped the cat carrier out of the bedroom closet and hid it in the utility room by the back door. Pepper snored through the whole thing. She’d been up late watching through the window as furry, nocturnal things wandered through the back yard. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I was so proud of myself. If Pepper had seen that carrier, she would have escaped to her hiding place, a secret location that I've never found.

Pepper knows when I’m planning to go out. Earrings give me away. When I put on earrings, she eagerly leads me to the door. “You’re in charge,” I tell her. “The house belongs to The Queen of Everything.” She eats that up. Pepper is well aware that she’s the queen, and I can only imagine what the queen does in her castle when her maidservant is gone for the day.

I was ready for her when she herded me to the castle’s portal. I picked her up and shoved her into the carrier. “Your carriage awaits,” I said, shutting the door, locking her inside. Oh, the wailing that came from the queen, the obscenities that spilled from her royal mouth! On the short drive to the vet’s office, she pawed and clawed at the carrier’s door, trapped in the dungeon, no way out. Arriving in the parking lot, she let out a shrill cry that terrified a two-pound Chihuahua in the car next to us. Its owner shot me a dirty look.

“You be good!” I told The Queen of Everything. She screamed even louder. Queens don’t take orders from maidservants.

The vet moved us right in to the examining room. “Is Pepper a little upset this morning?” she asked. Whatever gave her that idea. I struggled to hang on to the carrier as it wildly swung from side to side.Then, something amazing happened. The Queen of Everything fell silent. She curled into a tight ball like a hedgehog. Pepper stayed that way, frozen in fear, while I pulled her out of the carrier and plopped her onto the baby scale.

“She looks like a taxidermied cat,” the vet laughed.

She did look like that.

We put Pepper on the examining table. She unrolled and slithered toward me on her belly. Then she pressed her little body against me and tucked her head into the crook of my arm. I felt her relax as I held her close. The vet poked and prodded her, listened to her racing heart, and gave her a rabies shot. Through it all, The Queen of Everything rested in my arms.

Everyone is afraid sometimes, even kings and queens. Fear is only overcome through trust. Pepper trusts me to protect her much the same as I trust my Heavenly Father to take care of me.

Are you frightened of something today? Are you rolled up in a tight, little ball, worried about what might happen? Then trust God. Deuteronomy 33:27 says, "The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." Rest in God's arms today, and He will take care of you.

*****

For more about Mark Lowry, visit his website.

God's Harvest: Butternut Squash Soup

2010-09-18T17:04:00.017-05:00

At harvest time he sent a servant to the tenants to collect from them some of the fruit of the vineyard. Mark 12:12

I love these crisp September days when farmers’ markets overflow with ripe, autumn produce: bell-shaped butternut squash, red cabbage, parsnips, pumpkins, pears, gourds, apples . . . .

This week, to celebrate the season, I've decided to post one of my favorite autumn soup recipes. I hope that you’ll try it, and when you savor the wonderful scent that fills your kitchen while this soup cooks on your stove, remember when daylight wanes and the fields go dormant, our Heavenly Father provides for our needs.

Curried Butternut Squash Soup

4 T. butter
2 cups finely chopped yellow onions
4-5 T. curry powder (but only if you like it spicy; otherwise use less)
3 lbs. butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and chopped
2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup apple juice
salt and pepper to taste
parsley to use as a garnish
sour cream for garnish

Directions:
In a large stock pot, melt butter; add onions and curry powder and cook, covered, over low heat until the onions are tender (about 25 minutes). Pour in the chicken stock, add squash and apples, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, about 25 minutes. Strain soup, reserving liquid, and process solids with one cup of stock in a food processor until smooth. Return pureed soup to the pot. Add apple juice and remaining reserved liquid. Season with salt and pepper. Simmer until heated through. Serve garnished with a dollop of sour cream and a bit of parsley.

My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. Psalm 63:5

Struggling With Omniscience

2010-09-11T17:13:00.009-05:00

Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Hebrews 4:13

As a Christian, I struggle sometimes with the big God mysteries like omniscience and omnipresence. The other night while praying I caught myself thinking: If God is all knowing, then why am I telling Him what Hilma needs, or Jim, Joel, Charla, Diana, Susan . . . I pondered the idea of God’s universal knowledge. How can He know everything at once?

An image of a crowded classroom came into my head. (If you read my other blog, you know that I think in snapshots.) A teacher stands in front of the classroom. She points to a boy in the back of the room. “Ethan,” she says. “Do you know the answer?” As she stands there at the head of the class the teacher knows all of her students by name. At that very moment she knows all of their personalities and where they stand academically. She knows their educational needs and goals. It’s like that with God, I thought. Only bigger and better! We are students in His perpetual classroom.

At any given moment, God the Teacher stands before us at the head of the class. He knows each of us by name. He knows where we are in our training and what we need to reach our goals. God knows everything. There isn’t a question that He can’t answer. Yet sometimes instead of providing the answer He makes us work for it, knowing that in the process we learn to become more Christ-like.

So, if God is all-knowing, why do we have to pray for our needs and the needs of others? The answer is because through praying, we connect with the Teacher. It’s like staying after class to tell Mrs. Stapinski that you can't figure out a math problem. Mrs. Stapinski already knows that math isn't your best subject, and she knows how to help you. But to receive her help, you might have to ask for it.

1 John 3:20 says: "For God is greater than our hearts and he knows everything." Too often, I let logic lead my thinking, and I search for facts to fortify my faith. My Teacher knows that, too. When I questioned His omniscience, He knew that I couldn’t possibly understand the big picture. It’s far too complicated for a human. So, He used a simple object lesson that I could understand.

Is God really omniscient? Yes. By faith I believe that He is.

Meet Jackie Evancho

2010-09-08T18:51:00.005-05:00

I'm adding a bonus post this week to share this amazing video with you. Listen to 10-year-old Jackie Evancho sing "Pie Jesu." From the Latin, "Pie Jesu" is often translated as "O Sweet Jesus."

This little girl is the definition of a God-given talent.

Lily and Hope

2010-09-06T12:48:00.019-05:00

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Matthew 6:26

When I was little, my family and I traveled to a tiny resort tucked away in a northern Wisconsin forest. You might miss the place as you drive along Twin Lakes Road. Low-hanging branches veil its entrance. A sharp right turn down a winding gravel trail leads to five cabins set near the edge of an inland lake. Each cabin has a big picture window and a sign: DON’T FEED THE BEARS. I loved the bears. Almost every night a female bear came with her cubs, and I sat by the window watching them forage and wallow in the water.

I renewed my fascination for bears this year when I discovered the web site for the North American Bear Center in Ely, Minnesota. The NABC is a non-profit organization that studies wild black bears, their role in ecosystems and their relationship with humans. The study bears wear radio collars that allow them to be tracked by a GPS system. An amazing researcher named Lynn Rogers, also called “The Bear Whisperer,” collars the bears. They trust him. “It’s me bear,” he calls to them, and they come.

On a cold January morning, a live web cam on the NABC website streamed video of a female bear, named Lily, as she gave birth to a single cub they called Hope.

Drama surrounded Hope from the beginning. In May, not long after the pair left their den, Lily deserted Hope twice. The second time they were separated for six weeks. Rogers worried. Could the cub survive on her own?

A feisty little bear, Hope always did the unexpected. Lynn Rogers and his associates tried to keep track of her as she scampered through the thick forest, and when she was big enough he fitted her with a radio collar. Rogers set out pans of formula similar to Lily’s breast milk hoping to keep her alive. Hope lapped it up. She also found food on her own, and at night she slept high in white pine trees, all alone.

Thousands of nature lovers follow the adventures of Lily and Hope on Facebook. They were relieved and thrilled when mother and daughter reunited on thier own and stayed together. As I write this, Lily and Hope glean the last of the forest’s foods and prepare to retreat to their den for winter.

Every day, Lily and Hope face drama in the forest: extreme weather changes, food shortages, dangerous predators and now hunters. It’s bear hunting season in Ely, and Rogers has tied colorful ribbons to the research bears’ collars to make them visible to hunters and flag that they are study bears. Will Lily and Hope survive to roam the forest for another summer? Only God knows the answer.

There is a verse in Leviticus 25:19, Then the land will yield its fruit, and you will eat your fill and live there in safety. I think of that as I follow the adventures of Lily and Hope. God is like Lynn Rogers, caring for us, putting ribbons on our collars when hunters threaten and providing us with formula when there is no milk. God is our gracious provider, always watching us through His picture window. And best of all, He's never afraid to feed the bears.

******

On September 12, 2010, watch a replay of “Bearwalker of the Northwoods,” a Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom documentary about Lynn Rogers, on Animal Planet.

Read more about Lynn Rogers and his research bears at The North American Bear Center website.

Follow Lily the Black Bear on Facebook.

What Will You See?

2010-08-29T12:54:00.010-05:00

“For through him God created everything in the heavenly realms and on earth.
He made the things we can see and the things we can’t see --”
Colossians 1:16 (NLT)

I got up early this morning, shoved my laptop into its carrying case, and headed to McDonald’s drive-thru for an iced coffee. Then I drove to the lakefront and parked the car in my favorite shady spot. It was almost eight o’clock. As usual, I put down the car's windows, and I moved to the front passenger seat where the steering wheel wouldn't be in the way of my laptop. Finally, I settled in to write.

The lakefront is a perfect place to write in the early morning. It's quiet there. An occasional jogger runs by or someone walks with a dog. Sometimes, a tractor rumbles across the beach with a sand rake smoothing the sand and removing driftwood and other debris. But mostly the only sounds are birds singing and seagulls squawking.

This morning, a young couple sat at a picnic table with their backs to the lake. Their conversation interrupted the quiet. I overheard them discussing their relationship, specifically whether they should stay together.

A little girl, four years old maybe, played nearby at the beach’s edge. “Look, Mommy!” I heard her squeal. She pointed toward the water. I looked, and I saw it, too, a tall ship drifting silently to the south bathed in the early morning sunlight. She ran to the picnic table and tugged on her mother’s arm. “Mommy! Come see!”

“Not now, Monique!” her mother scolded. “Daddy and I are talking!” The mother shifted her body on the bench and turned her back to Monique. The little girl plopped down in the grass and watched the ship sail away. I watched it, too. I ached to join her there in the grass and share her excitement of seeing a tall ship sailing on Lake Michigan.

As I sat listening, Monique’s parents decided to get a divorce. Her dad walked away. Her mother stayed at the table, buried her head in her hands and cried. Meanwhile, Little Monique skipped on the sandy beach playing with the gulls, oblivious that her life was about to change.

I remembered a quote by Henry David Thoreau. He said, “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” Oh, what we miss when we turn our backs to the world around us. Tall ships sail unnoticed. Tears fall unobserved. Lives change forever.

Every morning, with each sunrise, God puts the whole world before us to see in a new way. How we see it is a choice. We can rejoice in the tall ships, dry tears with compassion, vow to make life better; or we can turn our backs and let life pass us by.

Psalm 118:4 says, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Whatever this day holds, we know that it is God’s day. He is working among us while our eyes are closed to what is right in front of us.

Open your eyes to the world this week. Maybe you'll see life differently.

**********

Check out my newest book in Barbour's Camp Club Girls tween mystery series.
Available now at Amazon.com or from your favorite bookseller.

Molly the Owl

2010-08-22T12:08:00.008-05:00

He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light.
Job 12:22 (NIV)

Lately, I’ve been addicted to the Owl Box Channel on UStream. I started watching a few weeks ago when almost every national news network carried the story of Molly the Owl and her brood.

Molly is a wild barn owl inhabiting an owl box in San Marcos, California. Homeowners Carlos and Donna Royal created the owl box to provide an atypical glimpse into the daily life of a common barn owl as she raises her young. A camera fixed inside allows viewers both day and night views of the owls.

Owls are nocturnal, so the infrared night cam provides the most interesting view. It reveals the mysteries of darkness, events that go unnoticed while the world is asleep.

In the darkness, Molly sits on four perfect eggs. A tiny pip hole appears in one of them. The hole grows larger. Then, with a little help from Molly, the egg breaks open revealing a tiny owlet, feeble and featherless. Molly consumes the eggshell. She warms the owlet with her brood patch, a sparsely feathered patch on her belly. In the period of a week, viewers watch until all four owlets hatch and are squawking for food.

Every night, thousands of viewers tune in to wait for McGee, Molly’s mate, to show up with a treat. (Yes, thousands of viewers! The Owl Channel has had more than 16 million unique hits since it went live in January.) A camera outside the owl box allows viewers to see when McGee arrives. He usually has a mouse, rat, rabbit or gopher dangling from his beak. Quickly, he drops it inside the owl box door. Molly grabs it, dissects it and feeds it to her young.

There’s plenty of drama in the owl box. Occasionally, an intruder, a rogue owl, tries to enter the box. Molly attacks, wings spread, talons ready. The intruder flies off into the darkness. Last week, two of the owlets died. No one knows why. But God knows. He knows everything that goes on in the owl box. The owl box viewers mourned the deaths of little Kelly and Jody (the Royals named all the owls). In the site’s chat room, viewers wondered what had happened to the owlets and speculated about the causes of their deaths. If they had been watching the outside camera at that moment, they might have noticed this.

In the daylight, two sunbeams rising up from the owl box door. Two little lives returning to God.

Psalm 121:3 says, He will not let your foot slip – he who watches over you will not slumber.

In the darkness, God is all seeing and all knowing. He does not sleep.

Read more about Molly the Owl here.

**********

Check out my newest book in Barbour's Camp Club Girls tween mystery series.
Available now at Amazon.com or from your favorite bookseller.

Behold the Dragonfly

2010-08-08T18:18:00.008-05:00

For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part;
but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known.

1 Corinthians 13:12 (ASV)

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I grew up across the street from Lake Michigan. Between our house and the lakeshore was a strip of prairie land, and in late summer swarms of dragonflies always showed up there. When I say swarms, I’m not kidding. Thousands of dragonflies formed black clouds along the shoreline. I noticed them when the rest of the world seemed silent. I stood quietly wondering if I could hear the dry rattling of their wings. But I couldn’t.

My grandmother said that in her day dragonflies were called “darning needles” and they sewed children's mouths shut if they were sassy to their parents. This terrified me. Dragonflies seemed to be curious about humans. They flew around and close to me -- and I was a sassy little kid. You don’t hear a dragonfly coming until it’s right in front of you, and if it wanted to sew your mouth shut it could. One day, a neighbor boy stood in the field and raised one arm, index finger extended. He said it had something to do with dragonflies seeking the highest point. When he allowed a dragonfly to land on his finger, I thought he was very brave. He must have been a good boy, too, because the dragonfly left him alone.

I feel sorry for people who are too busy to notice the dragonflies. The genius of God’s perfect design is so evident in these amazing creatures. For centuries scientists have studied them, especially their wings and their eyes. Two sets of delicate wings allow dragonflies to hover, fly loops, go backward and sideways. They can come to a complete stop at 30 miles per hour. And their large multifaceted eyes are made up of thousands of lenses making it possible for them to see nearly 360 degrees around them.

Last week, I was writing in my car at the lakeshore when I noticed hundreds of dragonflies darting around. Their teal bodies reflected the radiance of the sunlight bouncing off the sparkling water. Now, instead of being afraid of them, I’m curious. The world seemed silent to me again, like it had when I was a child. Focused only on the dragonflies, I got out of the car and raised one arm, index finger extended. Surprise! One did land on my finger. She clung tight to me as I lowered my hand to get a better look. I wondered how she saw me through those many lenses in her bulging eyes.

In 1 Corinthians 13:12, Paul says our understanding of God is like “looking in a mirror darkly.” In Paul’s time, mirrors cast an imperfect image. Sometimes, the glass reflected multiple images of an object creating an effect much like the way dragonflies must see. I suppose that’s the way the dragonfly saw me, a garbled image of something bigger and greater then she could begin to fathom.

Mother Teresa once said, “We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature -- trees, flowers, grass -- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence....”

And so do the dragonflies move in silence, seeing us in a mirror darkly the same way we see God.

Have you noticed the dragonflies this summer? Stop, savor the silence, raise your hand and see if one rests on your finger.

**********

Check out my newest book in Barbour's Camp Club Girls tween mystery series.
Available now at Amazon.com or from your favorite bookseller.

Need to Clean the Bathtub? Rejoice!

2010-07-25T14:14:00.012-05:00

May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face shine upon us.
Psalm 67:1

“Sit back, relax, and enjoy the next eight weeks.” That’s what the doctor said when he discharged me from the hospital.

Six weeks ago, I looked forward to doing nothing but lounging on the sofa reading books, watching movies and catching up with my Facebook friends.

But now, there’s one thing I can tell you with certainty. Relaxation isn't all that it's cracked up to be. It can turn to boredom real fast. There were so many little things I took for granted until I couldn't do them anymore.

Here’s what I said to God about it:

Dear God.
Until I had surgery, I didn’t notice your daily blessings. Oh, how much I took for granted --

Driving,
Vacuuming,
Carrying the laundry basket,
Washing and sweeping floors,
Stretching to reach something high on a shelf,
Lifting more than 10 pounds of anything,
Weeding my flowerbeds,
Cutting the grass,
Hauling out the garden hose,
Bending effortlessly to pick something up,
Changing the bed sheets,
Moving heavy boxes of book samples (especially when Fed Ex leaves them on my front porch),
Climbing on a ladder to change a light bulb,
Putting away the red-white-and-blue holiday banner that’s been above the picture window since Memorial Day,
Taking myself to the grocery store, or anywhere else,
Pushing a shopping cart loaded with groceries and putting the bags in my car,
Getting down on my knees to scour the bathtub, and kneeling to pray,
Reaching past my swollen belly to cut my toenails,
Having enough energy to cook a big meal and then wash the dishes,
Enjoying long days of active summer fun with my friends . . . and, oh, so many more wonderful little things.

Thank you, God, for being gracious to me, for blessing me, for making your face shine upon me. I’m getting to the end of my recovery now, and I can’t wait for that special day when I can haul the trashcans to the curb all by myself!

AMEN!!

How about you? What little things do you take for granted? The next time you lift your toddler to put him in the highchair, and get down on your hands and knees to clean up the cereal he spilled all over the floor, and then pick up the sea of toys he left strewn around, shout to the Lord with thanksgiving! Take my word for it. You are so blessed to bend, stretch, lift, push, pull and carry.

“Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Cancer: It Can't Happen to Me

2010-06-20T15:42:00.016-05:00

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4 NIV

I haven't updated the blog much recently. Today I'll tell you why.

Last Monday, I underwent major surgery for cancer. Somehow, I knew weeks before the diagnosis that cancer had its grip on me. The fear of facing it robbed me emotionally and took the fun out of life. It even took away my desire to write. My life these past couple of months has been about cancer and little else.

Cancer. The "C" word. We all think about it and know people victimized by it. We see cancer's ugliness and pray that we'll never experience it firsthand. I'm no exception. When I had some unusual bleeding, I convinced myself it was a symptom of a late menopause. I tried hard to ignore it. Most of all, I prayed fervently and believed that God would make it go away. The bleeding continued and got worse. I've never been one to rush to the doctor, so I waited.

I sought answers in the Bible and found Luke 8:43-48:

As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped. "Who touched me?" Jesus asked. When they all denied it, Peter said, "Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you." But Jesus said, "Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me." Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace."

Did you notice those words immediately and instantly? I claimed the scripture as my own. I was the Twenty-First Century version of that woman, and I decided that if I could just have enough faith, I would instantly be healed. No doctors for me!

I prayerfully asked God to allow me to touch the Savior's robe. But the bleeding continued.

Finally, I gave in and went to the gynecologist. He ran tests and was reasonably certain that a cervical polyp caused the bleeding. I had an ultrasound, biopsy and D&C, and the doctor saw nothing unusual. Thank you, God! Instant healing!

A few days later, my faith was tested when the pathology report came back. It showed a small spot of cancer hiding among the cells. The doctor said that I would need a hysterectomy. In his opinion, the cancer was very localized and would be easy to remove laparoscopically. A pathologist would review samples while I was on the operating table, and if everything looked okay, the surgery would take just a little over an hour. I could go home the next day, cancer free.

My surgery was scheduled for Monday, June 14th.

I felt an odd sense of peace as I faced surgery. No fear. Many people were praying for me, and I knew that the Lord was with me. That peaceful feeling assured me of the best outcome: An hour or so of surgery to remove a tiny bit of cancer, and I'd be home the next day. It wasn't an instant healing, but an easy one, and I'd take it! Thank you, God!

The surgeon completed the laparoscopic surgery, and before he brought me out of the anesthesia, he waited for the pathologist's call. It came. The cancer had spread into the wall of the uterus. The visible part of cancer, that tiny spot, was the tip of an iceberg. I needed several hours of open abdominal surgery and lymph node sampling to determine if "it" had spread even further.

On Monday evening, I awoke in a hospital bed attached to tubes and machines. I was aware enough to know that things had not gone as expected in the operating room. It would take a couple of days for the pathology report on the lymph nodes to come back, and that report would be the final answer about how much damage the cancer had done and if it still lurked inside of me. I thanked God that I was all right and prayed that the cancer hadn't spread. But for the rest of my hospital stay, I couldn't pray. I wasn't angry with God, but a little unsure of His existence. The enemy loves to attack when we're weak and vulnerable. I fought my uncertainty by shutting down.

On Wednesday, I received the news that the nodes were clear. The cancer was Stage I and had not spread beyond the wall of the uterus. I might possibly take some radiation treatments as adjunct therapy. Otherwise, I'm considered cancer free, no evidence of disease. Praise God! He hadn't done it the way I'd wanted it, but the outcome was what I had asked for. I was healed.

I came home from the hospital on Friday and logged onto my Google page. The first thing I read was the Bible Verse of the Day. It said:

Then he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace." Luke 8:48

God is so good!!

Dear Lord: We might not always understand your ways, but we know that you are with us always, even in the worst of times. Thank you, Father! Amen.

Ladies, please read. This could save your life:

According to Women's Cancer Network:

About 85% of women with endometrial cancer survive this disease. That is because three out of every four women with endometrial cancer are diagnosed at stage I, the earliest stage. These early diagnoses are made possible when women pay attention to symptoms.

Here are the signs and symptoms of endometrial cancer.

➤ Vaginal bleeding or spotting after menopause

➤ New onset of heavy menstrual periods or bleeding between periods

➤ A watery pink or white discharge from the vagina

➤ Two or more weeks of persistent pain in the lower abdomen or pelvic region.

➤ Pain during sexual intercourse

Over 90% of women diagnosed with endometrial cancer say that they experienced abnormal vaginal bleeding prior to their diagnosis. Please see a gynecologist or gynecologic oncologist and ask about an endometrial biopsy if you experience any of these symptoms.

No God, Not Another Valley!

2010-06-05T11:30:00.011-05:00

Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

Recently, a dear friend sent me Pete Wilson’s book, Plan B. I often skim through a book before I read it, and as I flipped through the pages of this one a passage stood out: “Even in the midst of Plan B, you really have only one task, one calling. And that is to do what you would do if you were confident God was with you.”

I’ve been facing some health issues this year. At the first evaluation, the doctor warned me that it could be cancer. I was terrified of how that diagnosis might change my life. It seemed to take forever to get the answers I needed, and while I waited for doctor’s appointments and test results, I begged God for healing.

Funny, how we rush to God in a crisis and long to be in His presence. It’s as if nothing else matters then but our relationship with Him. What better than a crisis for the Potter to work His clay?

Please, God, I begged, “Heal me, and do it instantly so I won’t have to blah…blah…blah…” My symptoms continued. They even got worse. I wondered if God heard me. And if He did hear me, then did He care? I’d been through a whole string of valleys, and as I faced another I began to fear God and expect the worst from Him. I doubted that He loved me.

What you would do if you were confident God was with you?

There was the question leaping out at me from the pages of a book, and I had to answer it.

If I were confident God was with me, I would be assured that no matter how He answered my prayers, His answer would be right and good. As I pondered God's greatness, I thought of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane on that night when they took Him away to die for my sins. Jesus said to His God, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." Jesus was confident that God was with Him, and He was ready to accept God's will, whatever it was. Jesus had the most intimate relationship with God. He was God! How then could I not follow His example and believe that God was with me even if my diagnosis was cancer?

That image of Jesus in the Garden led me to pray differently about my circumstances:

“Father, please don’t allow me to face yet another valley, but I'll accept whatever you decide.”

Praying that way brought me to a place where I realized that if I were confident God was with me, then I believed that He loved me. I knew that whatever He decided, I would have the strength to face it. I had confidence that He would provide for my needs, but in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine.

My relationship with God changed once I turned my thinking away from the what ifs and toward what I would do believing fully in His existence and His love for me.

We learn in the valleys.

Yesterday, I had minor surgery to remove a polyp that was almost certainly benign. The biopsy results will confirm it, but whatever the result it doesn’t matter as much anymore. By changing my thinking, I learned that God does love me. He may not always answer my prayers in ways that I want and expect, but He always provides for my needs according to His perfect will.

Romans 12:12 says, “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

“Even in the midst of Plan B, you really have only one task, one calling. And that is to do what you would do if you were confident God was with you.”

I urge you to renew your mind. Get out of the pattern of worldly thinking and imagine living life with the utmost confidence that God is with you, now and forever. Believe me. If you do this, you will experience God working His plan in your life -- His good, pleasing and perfect will.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Walking Each Other Home

2010-05-27T11:58:00.011-05:00

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen.
Hebrews 11:1

God is good. My family and I believe that still after two of our family members went to be with the Lord this week. My aunt passed suddenly and unexpectedly last weekend, and my uncle, her husband, followed this morning.

Their marriage spanned nearly 63 years, a love story that began when a girl fell in love with the boy next door. It ended, on this earth, when she was on her way to the nursing home to visit him. A sudden headache, and God called her home.

We are sad and yet blessed knowing that they are well and together again in Heaven.

Today, I am a writer lost for words. This video by Mark Schultz says it all.

What a God!

2010-05-06T14:06:00.013-05:00

This week’s guest post comes from an e-mail I received from my friend, Jim. He wrote this for his adult children and was nice enough to send me a copy. I think it’s a great message for Mother’s Day.

Momma Robin built a nest, and this morning we have an egg.   

It started a couple of weeks ago when she brought some grass and plant material up there. But she tried to put it on top of the light, which is metal, and it all slid off. We decided if she could make a go of it we'd leave it alone. But after a couple failed attempts, we knocked down the rest of it.   

Well, then she got serious about it, and soon there was a ton of material up there, but it was sort of hanging to the side and nothing was holding it together and we knew it would fall down. Next thing we know, she is coming in with beakfuls of wet mud, cementing all the material together and forming it into a perfect bowl shape. But it is still hanging off the side.   

Then the coup-de-grace. Take a look at the third picture. She wrapped several long pieces through the nest and wrapped them around the spindle on top of the light, pulled the other ends back into the nest, and cemented them in place with the mud. The nest is now securely anchored in place even though there is nothing underneath it.   

So how in the world did she know how to do this? Really, think about it. There's no natural explanation. Even if you accept evolution, it cannot explain an innate knowledge of how to automatically do something in the pea-brain of a small animal. Even if it can explain the physical bird itself, it offers no insight into a mental process that was not learned. This Robin never saw another Robin build an unsupported nest; no mother taught it what to do.   

But, how about this--God says that his imprint on everything in nature is so obvious that people have no excuse if they fail to accept what is totally obvious.  It's a shame to think that people are this stupid, or rebellious, that they don't know what the animals know. Read on.   

This is what Momma Robin's designer says--   

"Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,  or let the fish of the sea inform you.  Which of all these does not know  that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature  and the breath of all mankind. "  Job 12:7-10

What a God!

[Thank you, Jim! And an update for my readers. At last count, there were three eggs in Momma Robin's nest.]

I'll Pray For You

2010-04-24T13:01:00.010-05:00

Night and day I mention you in my prayers. I am always grateful for you, as I pray to the God my ancestors and I have served with a clear conscience. 2 Timothy 1:3 CEV

“I’ll pray for you.” Those four words spill from our lips as easy as “Have a nice day.” I’ve been guilty of it, and maybe you are, too. We tell someone, “I’ll pray for you.” Then we offer a quick prayer and move on.

The words I’ll pray for you took on new meaning for me after my mother died. Until then, I don’t think I fully appreciated the awesome power of ongoing intercessory prayer.

For as long as I can remember, every afternoon Mom would retreat to her recliner in the living room and spend time reading her Bible. Afterward, she’d lean back in the chair and close her eyes. She’d stay that way for a while, and I always thought she was napping. In fact, as a young adult I sometimes resented Mom for taking her daily catnap while I, and the rest of the world, worked. What I didn’t realize back then was that Mom was silently praying. Every single day, she made time to pray for others. When my mother said, “I’ll pray for you,” it was a promise. Those words didn’t mean I’ll pray for you once, they meant I’ll pray you through.

Mom prayed me through life. She prayed me through my tests in college, tough decisions, job interviews, health issues, rocky relationships. As I matured, I felt Mom’s prayers, and I counted on them. I knew that at the precise moment I needed prayer, Mom was in her recliner, eyes shut, deep in intercession for me. When she died, it left a gaping hole in my heart. My gentle mother, my prayer warrior, was gone. Christian friends have told me that now she’s an angel in heaven, praying for me there. Still, I miss being able to call my mother, ask for prayer and have her say to me, “Don’t worry, Honey. I’ll pray you through.” I miss knowing that without a doubt someone is fervently praying for me.

Today, I’m careful when I say, “I’ll pray for you.” I’ve learned that those four words are a sacred promise, not only to the person being prayed for, but also to God. I try to follow my mother’s example. Every night I make time to pray. I sit in my chair in my own living room, shut my eyes, and quietly intercede, day after day lifting the promise of my prayers to God. These prayers, I’ve discovered, create a spiritual bond not only between me and the people I know, but also with people whom I’ve never met: a young man injured in a snowboarding accident, a woman horribly scarred from an encounter with a wild animal, an Internet friend whose dad is battling cancer. It’s that bond formed through prayer that connects we Christians to God’s love, and it’s intercessory prayer that gets us through the scraps of darkness in our lives.

If I say, “I’ll pray for you,” I promise that I will, and I hope that you will find peace knowing that someone is praying you through.

Please let me know -- how can I pray for you?

National Day of Prayer 2010

The 59th Annual National Day of Prayer will take place Thursday, May 6, 2010. Millions will unite in prayer at thousands of events from coast to coast. The theme for this year is “Prayer for Such a Time as This” and is based on the verse from Nahum 1:7 which states: “The LORD is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him.”

On April 15, 2010, United States District Court Judge Barbara Crabb, for the Western District of Wisconsin, struck down the National Day of Prayer statute, 36 U.S.C. § 119, as violating the Establishment Clause. Judge Crabb ruled that the statute serves no secular purpose, but rather calls the nation to engage in a religious exercise – prayer.

To read more about it and sign an online petition to save the National Day of Prayer. Click HERE.

Running Late

2010-04-18T11:57:00.038-05:00

Oh, how great are God’s riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways! Romans 11:33 (NLT)

Running late. The scent of fresh ground coffee fills the kitchen. I pour almost-boiling water into my French press coffee pot and wait. I grab a sweater and stuff the laptop into my book bag. Then with strong coffee in my travel mug, I head for the lake.

Car windows down, spring surrounds me, fresh and uncooked. I see gentle waves sparkling like diamonds in the early morning sunshine. A female mallard dives head-first-rump-in-the-air, fishing.

I park in the beach lot facing the lake. Then I slide from the driver’s seat to the passenger side and stretch out my legs. Eager to write, I open the laptop.

I'm barely settled when childish laughter leads a dull, hollow thud. A yellow ball bounces off the right front tire. “Daniel!” The female voice comes from behind. I see a flash of red hair pass my right shoulder. Then a freckled face appears and two hands grasping the ball.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

His mother stands behind him, hands firm on his shoulders as if he might float away. “We're sorry,” she echoes.

“Whatcha doin’?” Daniel asks.

“Writing,” I answer.

He bounces the ball, fumbles, bends down and grabs it before it rolls away. “Writin’ what?” He peers into the open window at my laptop screen.

“Daniel!” his mother scolds him. “Don’t bother the lady.”

The ball slips from Daniel’s hands and falls through the window, accidentally on purpose. I lean down and retrieve it from between my feet.

“I’m writing stories,” I say, giving him the ball.

Daniel rests his chin on the window frame, green eyes brimming with questions. “What kind of stories?”

“Mostly stories about Jesus.”

He turns and looks at his mother. “Mom, who's Jesus?”

She's embarrassed, smiling shy without an answer.

Just then, I remember. In my book bag there’s a copy of John MacArthur’s I Believe in Jesus: Leading Your Child to Christ. I pull it out and give it to her. “Jesus is God’s son,” I say. Daniel grabs the book from his mother’s hand and starts flipping through the pages. She takes it from him, and offers it back to me.

“Keep it,” I tell her. “I have more at home.”

She thanks me quickly and guides Daniel away.

“Read it, Mom! Read it to me!” He pulls on her arm and reaches for the book.

She opens the cover. As they walk toward the beach I hear her read aloud: “The Bible says that in the beginning there was only God. He has always been . . . “

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for those days when we run just a little bit late. It is impossible for us to understand your ways, but your timing is always perfect. Amen.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I have not received any compensation for writing this post. I have no material connection to the brands, products, or services that I have mentioned. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

What Jesus Desired From Friendship

2010-04-09T18:10:00.015-05:00

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity. Proverbs 17:17

For as long as I can remember, I’ve snatched random bits and pieces of information and turned them into stories. My story starters come from brief glimpses of people and events that leave me wondering. I see a joyful bride enter a church on a Saturday afternoon, and I wonder if she will be as happy five years from now. I catch a quick look at faces in a bus window, and I wonder. Are they traveling toward a bright future, or running from a desolate past? Recently, I made a surprising discovery. The Bible is filled with story starters. God’s Word provides just enough information to whet our appetites and leave us wondering about the details.

During Lent when I read the gospels, three story starters jumped out at me from the pages of my Bible. I had read them before, I’d even written about them, but this time they left me wondering about Jesus and his friends. What did Jesus desire from friendship?

The first story starter comes from Luke 10:38-42 (NIV):

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

Jesus desired devotion from his friends.

I imagine Martha as an ancient Martha Stewart. Her house was always clean, dinner was on time and her chores followed a very strict schedule. Only when the work was done, did she have time to be a friend. Jesus shared a close friendship with Mary, Martha and their brother, Lazarus. He desired time with all of them, but Martha was too busy to give it. I wonder. Did Martha change her priorities, or did she weep at the cross wishing that she had more time?

The second story starter is from Mark 4:35-40 (NIV):

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, "Let us go over to the other side." Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?"

Jesus desired that his friends trust him.

I imagine that Jesus was a trustworthy friend. Why then were his disciples unsure of him? It is in our nature not to trust. Even with those we love, there is still a speck of doubt. I wonder. Did his disciples view Jesus as a faithful friend only because of his actions? Even after he calmed the storm, did they trust their friend completely? Absolute trust is next to impossible.

I found the third story starter in Matthew 26:36-46 (NIV):

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he asked Peter. "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"

Jesus desired support from his friends.

I imagine Jesus trusted Peter, James and John, his best friends, to stand by him on that fateful night. He confided his deepest feelings to them and asked for their support: “Stay with me. Watch over me!” I wonder. Did they comfort him and promise not to leave him? Was Jesus heartbroken when he discovered his best friends sleeping when he needed them the most? Jesus desired support from his friends -- but he didn’t get it.

These three stories, void of details, leave us imagining and wondering. Still, one thing is certain. Jesus loved his friends unconditionally. Martha was too busy for him, his disciples doubted him and his best friends betrayed him. But Jesus kept loving them. He even died for them!

Oh, to have such a friend.

He Lives!

2010-04-03T10:16:00.018-05:00

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!"
(Luke 24:5-6)

Now when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, that they might come and anoint Jesus' body. Very early in the morning, on the first day of the week, they came to the tomb when the sun had risen.

And they said among themselves,
“Who will roll away the stone from the door of the tomb for us?” for it was very large.

But when they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away.

And entering the tomb, they saw a young man clothed in a long white robe sitting on the right side; And they were alarmed.

But he said to them:

“Do not be afraid. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid Him? Go, tell His disciples—and Peter—that He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him, as He said to you.”

So they went out quickly and fled from the tomb, trembling and amazed.
Mark 16:1-8

"They have taken the Lord out of the tomb!
We don't know where they have put him!"
John 20:2

Peter ran to the tomb. And when he stooped down and looked in, he saw only the burial clothes. Then he left, wondering what had happened.
Luke 24:12

But Mary Magdalene stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?"

They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was him.

"Why are you crying?" he asked her. "Who is it you are looking for?"

 Thinking he was the gardener, she said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."

Jesus said to her: "Mary."  

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic:

"Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).

Then Mary hurried to the disciples with the news:
"I have seen the Lord!"
John 20:10-18

HE HAS RISEN!
CHRIST LIVES NOW AND FOREVER!

Jesus said: "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die."
John 11:25-26

Have you accepted Christ's gift of eternal life?

Jesus died on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins, and he rose from the grave to make a place for us in heaven.

Jesus Christ bore our sins --past, present, and future-- in His body on the cross, and now he offers you eternal life (heaven) as a free gift.

This gift is received by faith in Jesus -- faith that he died for your sins and rose from the dead, just as he said that he would. This is the meaning of Resurrection Sunday -- Easter.

A prayer for accepting Christ's gift of eternal life can be found by clicking HERE and scrolling to the bottom of the post.

HAPPY EASTER!

Waiting to Believe -- Holy Saturday

2010-03-30T14:33:00.024-05:00

And in the early morning hours,
shrouded in darkness,
the chief priests and the Pharisees
went to Pontius Pilate.

And they told him:

“We remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, 'After three days I will rise again.' So give us the order for the tomb to be made secure. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first."

And Pilate answered them:

"Take a guard.
Go, make the tomb as secure
as you know how.
So they went and made the tomb secure
sealing the stone and posting a guard there.

Matthew 27:62-66

And on that day
The Sabbath . . .

Those who had killed him rejoiced.

And those who loved him rested according to the commandment. They waited to return to his tomb to embalm his body with spices and ointments.

And his disciples, in utter desolation,
worried that they might soon
follow him into death.
And they hid themselves from the world—

Waiting to believe . . .

ARE YOU WAITING TO BELIEVE?

(To read Part 1 of the story, click here.)

Weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:5

A Prayer for accepting Christ's gift of eternal life:

"God, I recognize that I have not lived my life for You up until now. I have been living for myself and that is wrong. I need You in my life; I want You in my life. I acknowledge the completed work of Your Son Jesus Christ in giving His life for me on the cross at Calvary, and I long to receive the forgiveness you have made freely available to me through this sacrifice. Come into my life now, Lord. Take up residence in my heart and be my king, my Lord, and my Savior. From this day forward, I will no longer be controlled by sin, or the desire to please myself, but I will follow You all the days of my life. Those days are in Your hands. I ask this in Jesus' precious and holy name."
Amen.

Hymn: Just As I Am

Art print: Waiting for the Believers by Allan Bruce Zee Portland, OR

Remember This Day -- Good Friday

2010-03-29T23:43:00.029-05:00

It began in darkness . . .

And after taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, "Take this and divide it among you. For I tell you I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me." Luke 22:17-19

And after this, he went away from them to the garden. He knelt down and prayed, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." And an angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. Luke 22:42-44

And in darkness they came for him. With swords and clubs and the betrayal of a kiss from one whom he loved.

In this hour—
darkness reigned.

“I do not know him.”

“I was never with him."

“I am not one of his!”

In the mourning,
His beloved ran from him.

Left him to suffer alone.

Mocked. Whipped. Humiliated.

Wearing a crown of thorns, He was crucified.

And a written notice above him read:

THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. Luke 23:38

Nailed to a cross, broken and dying, he uttered words that transcend history.

Echoing even now.
Today.
Good Friday.

Father, forgive them . . . (Luke 23:34) 

This day you will be with me in paradise (Luke 23:43)

 Woman, behold your son . . .(John 19:26-27)

 My God, my God . . . (Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34)

 I thirst. (John 19:28)

It is finished! (John 19:30) . . .

And darkness came over the whole land, for the sun stopped shining. And in this darkness, he cried out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." And when he had said this, he breathed his last.
Luke 23:44-46

And there came a rich man of Arimathaea, named Joseph. He took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and then he departed. Matthew 27:57-60

And as it began, it ended in darkness --

this Day
Good Friday.

WHO WAS THIS ONE THAT THEY CRUCIFIED?
THIS MAN THEY CALLED THE KING OF THE JEWS?
THE ONE CLOTHED IN FLESH, THE ONE WITH NO BEGINNING AND WITHOUT END.

As you leave this place,
go with PEACE and HOPE.
On this Holy day,
May Jesus Christ,
who for YOUR sake gave his life so that YOU might live,
keep you and strengthen you.
Amen.

Hymn: Were You There

April is the Cruelest Month

2010-03-26T15:49:00.033-05:00

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you.
Isaiah 43:2 NKJV

In one of his poems, T. S. Eliot wrote: “April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.” I remember studying these words in a college literature class. The professor explained that President Lincoln’s assassination had inspired Eliot’s poem. Lincoln was killed in April, which is the month symbolic of hope and renewal of life. The President was shot on Good Friday, April 14, 1865 while attending a performance of a comedy. There is certain irony in that.

Like T.S. Eliot, I understand this paradox of life and death. I always approach April with trepidation. The month has been cruel to me. Each week in April holds a not so pleasant anniversary. My dad died on April 4th and my mom on April 11th. My grandmother died on the 19th, and on April 26th I lost a wonderful job at a company where I had worked for 20 years. All of these April events occurred in different years, so you can understand why I enter April with a certain degree of anxiety.

There is one special anniversary, though, that soothes my fear of April. It is the anniversary of the date I became a Christian. I was born into eternal life on April 3rd, 1985.

As I approach my 25th birthday in Christ during this Holy Week of Easter, I remember that God designed the date He saved me with a purpose. In His greatness, He knew that I would face many April valleys, and by saving me in that month, He assured me that I would never walk through them alone.

With each April crisis, I found enormous strength in His love. When I was lonely, He brought me friends and family for companionship. When I was so tired I could barely stand, I found rest by letting Him carry my burdens. When I hungered for the sadness to end, His Holy Spirit gave me courage to endure. When I was hopeless, my faith gave me hope.

April is my month. It is when God breeds lilacs out of dead land. It is where old memories are mixed with the desire to move on. It comes with the sweet freshness of God’s spring rain that nourishes the dull winter roots of my life and nudges them to grow.

"I thank God and I praise Him
for the sunset that lifts my spirit,
the morning that lets my
soul take flight in search
of wildflowers, the songbirds that
waken my world. And I
thank God for His presence
in my life, for family and friends,
for joy and even sorrows
that strengthen my life, for
the awareness that
God's love is the essence of
all happiness, the bond between
heaven and earth."
~Neil Fitzgerald~

Thank you, God, for my birthday gift. Thank you for all of my Aprils.

Steve Green : In Brokenness You Shine
Songwriters: Green, Steve; Herms, Bernie; Mckelvey, Doug;

Video by Jean Fischer

Throwing Stones At Those Who Mourn

2010-03-16T13:05:00.024-05:00

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Matthew 5:4

When I started this blog , the idea was to help readers see God through ordinary, everyday things. My plan was never to use this space as a platform for my own opinions; however, last week something happened in my community that I feel so strongly about that I cannot keep it to myself. I hope you won’t mind if I share it with you.

Here is the backstory:

On Monday, March 8, an elderly, unlicensed driver ran a red light and broadsided a car as its driver made a left turn. There were five people riding in the car including a four-year-old boy. The boy was the only person critically injured in the crash. Seated between his parents in the backseat, he was not in a car seat but was restrained by a seat belt. On Wednesday, March 10, little Michael died from the traumatic brain injury he suffered in the accident.

On most mornings, I read my local newspaper online, and I always scan readers’ comments about the front-page stories. The accident was on the front page for several days. It spurred nearly a hundred comments about unlicensed drivers and the use of car seats for children ages eight and under. Here is a sampling:

“The roads are full of all kinds of morons . . . that parent who didn’t put his kid in a safety seat is a moron as well.”

(The writer of this next comment started with the elderly driver’s Hispanic surname.)
“Well, do we know if the old man was illegal? I’ll bet this is not the only time he has been convicted for other reasons. What a big-time loser.”

(There were only a few comments like this one.)
“I'm keeping Little Michael and his family in my thoughts and prayers, praying for a miracle. I also pray for the elderly driver in the van. I can't imagine how he is feeling at this time either. If there's anything we can do to help Michael and his family -- we're here for you.”

(Someone's response)
“Your thoughts are wonderful, but didn’t you read the article? 2/3's of the child's brain isn't functioning anymore, and he’s on life support. I don't at all mean to sound cold or harsh, but get real, he isn't coming out of this, okay?”

(And this comment from a member of the little boy’s family.)
“Please! Please!! This is not the place or time to be talking about if they should have him in a car seat or what they should have done. His parents know what they should have done and they are devastated. They don’t need to read this stuff. If you don't have anything nice to say out of respect to our family and Michael, who is very critical, then please keep your comments to yourself. Thank you....”

(Followed by this "heartfelt" response)
“For those who say lay off the negative comments ‘cause everyone in the family feels like crap, well they should feel like crap!”

Maybe I’ve misjudged the extent that evil has crept into the world, but I expected most of the comments to support this family and the elderly driver in their time of need. Don’t get me wrong -- I’m not saying that car seats aren’t important and that it isn’t wrong to drive without a license, but this forum was not the place to discuss it while the little boy was on life support in a local hospital. Where is compassion anymore? I’m not a fan of censorship, but I do wish that the newspaper had closed comments out of respect to this dear little boy and his family. May he rest safely in Jesus’ arms.

But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?" They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" "No one, sir," she said. "Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin." John 8: 1-11

Amen.