June Book Winners: Congratulations to the Addys in Oregon.
Send an email to write cat at consolidated dot net or leave a comment to enter the July book contest to win The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas First, your choice. Read reviews at www.amazon.com
This week I made tapioca pudding—my husband’s favorite dessert. The pudding is certainly easy enough to make, with the convenience of boxed granules and a microwave.
If you look at the ingredient label on real tapioca, not the pearled version derived from potato starch, you will see two words: cooked tapioca. There's a reason the comforting word "cooked" appears, because uncooked tapioca is poisonous.
"Tapioca" is a word of South American Indian origin. The name applies to a food derived from the root of bitter cassava. According to Latin American tradition, a Spanish explorer, heard from the natives about the highly poisonous sap of the cassava plant. Later, lost in the jungles of Brazil, the suffering man preferred a quick death to one of fever and starvation, so he boiled cassava roots for his last meal.
Instead of dying, he lived to tell the world how this pleasant, digestible food saved his life. The application of heat removed the poison from the sap. The cassava plant is widely known as "yucca" or "manioc." Fortunately, something poisonous changed into a benefit.
One scripture I often hear spoken as a comfort to troubled people is Romans 8:28, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him . . .." Over the centuries, this verse has proven to be true on several levels. One of the good things God works for his children is aiding them to become like Jesus, with genuine love for God and neighbors. This is most likely the greatest promise connected with this scripture.
For many, this promise of good coming out of all things has been a rescue, the floating plank from a shipwreck. Drowning Christians have climbed up on this promise and waited to see what good would come from their experienced misfortune.
Or others have clung to the plank for the rest of their lives and in their judgement never saw the promise of good come from personal disasters. But the glitch is human eyes, scanning a very short time frame. God sees from Eden to end and knows the best timing for "good" things to happen.
Sometimes, it's not in his immediate plan for us to glimpse the turn-around. But our human nature, often accompanied by plenty of misery, asks when and how will this "good" arrive? But our most important work is to believe the Promise Maker.
Every day God is dishing out hope. Today, may be your day. Somehow, he may be turning a poison in your world into a life-support.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
A Story Gem
Leave a comment or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
A Story Gem
Jacob served seven years to get Rachel, but they seemed like only a few days to him because of his love for her.
Genesis 29:20
In 1980, the newlywed Molly looked at her ring finger and exclaimed to her husband Richard, “I’ve lost my ring!” Shopping in a local
Richard and Molly abandoned their grocery errands, and they walked back and forth in the aisles, staring at the floor. But they never saw any gleam of her diamond. Since they didn’t know when the ring slipped off Molly’s finger, they later looked through their car’s carpet. At their apartment, they flipped throw pillows over, shook out rugs and felt behind couch cushions. Molly even requested Richard remove the drain trap from under the kitchen sink. The young husband had the heart to do the job, but not the tools.
That evening was a sad one. Molly cried over the loss of her beloved simple ring, a symbol of Richard’s love. She even asked Richard if he would get on his knees and pray that they find her ring. So on his knees he went, and he prayed.
The next morning, Molly, with very puffy eyes, went to her job at
Early that same morning and unknown to Molly, Richard went back to the grocery store. The store had not opened, and he knocked on the door. After his explanation, the manager let him in, and he retraced their grocery cart journey from the previous day. At the meat department, he remembered the choice cuts they had looked at, but had abandoned because of their tight budget. He decided to look there.
Leaning over the bin of beef, his fingers grew cold as he shuffled the Styrofoam packages. About to give up, his eyes glimpsed a sparkle among the plastic wrapped meats. The ring! Under a rump roast!
Richard shared his good news with the store manager then drove to his bride’s workplace. Elated, he couldn’t help smiling the whole way. Arriving, Richard explained to the supervisor about his find. Leading him to his wife’s office, the supervisor walked over to Molly, who had her back to the door, and announced, “Guess who’s here?”
Molly swiveled around in her chair to find a smiling Richard. An unmistakable love shone in his eyes, and without a word, he held the ring up for her to see.
When this Christian couple shared their lost-and-found story, I saw evidence that their love is up-to-date. Even after 28 years of marriage and rearing five children, the diamond sparkle is still there.
It’s in their eyes.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Dads' Pet Phrases
Leave a comment or send an email to writecat at consolidated dot net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
A television show airing in the 1950s became a household favorite, “Father Knows Best.” Jim Anderson, played by Robert Young, had his share of family problems. His character’s wife was Margaret and their kids were Betty, Bud, and Kathy.
Jim had a pet name, “Kitten,” for Kathy, his youngest. A lot of dads have pet names for their kids, and they have quite a few instructional pet phrases. Much of our wisdom and understanding of the world comes from our dads, and a Bible proverb says, “Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding” (Proverbs 3:13). See if you recognize any of the fatherly wisdom and idioms, I’ve collected from family and friends:
Don’t make me come in there.
How many times do I have to tell you—clean your room?
You eat me out of house and home.
Don’t cross your eyes. They’ll stick like that.
Keep on crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.
Don’t sit so close to the TV.
Finish your dinner, there are starving kids in the world.
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times.
Sit up straight.
Use your inside voice.
Money doesn’t grow on trees.
If I have to tell you one more time . . .
No, we’re not there yet. Don’t ask again.
You’ll shoot your eye out.
Obey your mother.
Don’t talk back to your mother.
Apologize to your mother.
I can’t leave you alone for a minute.
This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.
Wash your ears out.
What part of “No” don’t you understand?
Didn’t I tell you that’d happen?
You’ll spoil your appetite.
Don’t roll your eyes at me.
This is the last time I’m going to tell you.
Once you get in your house, you can do what you want.
Stop touching your brother.
Let’s play the quiet game.
What in the Sam Hill are you doing?
Write that down in your little black book.
Cut that out.
Wipe that look off your face.
Use your manners.
Because I said so.
If your dad is still around, be sure to thank him for all the memorable advice delivered in simple slogans and add a plate of homemade cookies and a big kiss on the cheek.
A television show airing in the 1950s became a household favorite, “Father Knows Best.” Jim Anderson, played by Robert Young, had his share of family problems. His character’s wife was Margaret and their kids were Betty, Bud, and Kathy.
Jim had a pet name, “Kitten,” for Kathy, his youngest. A lot of dads have pet names for their kids, and they have quite a few instructional pet phrases. Much of our wisdom and understanding of the world comes from our dads, and a Bible proverb says, “Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding” (Proverbs 3:13). See if you recognize any of the fatherly wisdom and idioms, I’ve collected from family and friends:
Don’t make me come in there.
How many times do I have to tell you—clean your room?
You eat me out of house and home.
Don’t cross your eyes. They’ll stick like that.
Keep on crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.
Don’t sit so close to the TV.
Finish your dinner, there are starving kids in the world.
If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times.
Sit up straight.
Use your inside voice.
Money doesn’t grow on trees.
If I have to tell you one more time . . .
No, we’re not there yet. Don’t ask again.
You’ll shoot your eye out.
Obey your mother.
Don’t talk back to your mother.
Apologize to your mother.
I can’t leave you alone for a minute.
This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.
Wash your ears out.
What part of “No” don’t you understand?
Didn’t I tell you that’d happen?
You’ll spoil your appetite.
Don’t roll your eyes at me.
This is the last time I’m going to tell you.
Once you get in your house, you can do what you want.
Stop touching your brother.
Let’s play the quiet game.
What in the Sam Hill are you doing?
Write that down in your little black book.
Cut that out.
Wipe that look off your face.
Use your manners.
Because I said so.
If your dad is still around, be sure to thank him for all the memorable advice delivered in simple slogans and add a plate of homemade cookies and a big kiss on the cheek.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Nip Assumptions
Leave a comment or send an email to writecat at consolidated dot net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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I started to open a carbonated cola while riding in my husband Dave’s truck and he offered to pull the tab for me even though he was driving. He likes his truck to be clean and neat, so I was immediately a little bit offended, thinking he thought I’d spray the truck’s dashboard with fizz when I pulled the tab. I didn’t voice my thoughts but soon found out my assumption was very off track.
I’d been working on avoiding guesswork, so I asked why he offered to pull the tab, and he said in a gentle voice, “I didn’t want you to break a fingernail.” Because of my earlier assumption, I misjudged—for the moment—his charitable act of kindness.
He simply offered to open a cola can, such an ordinary occurrence, and I misjudged his motives. Just imagine how many larger things in life that we make wrong guesses about.
“Knowing their thoughts” is a phrase that characterizes Jesus in the New Testament. Because Jesus knew the thoughts of men, he could size up hearts and then address a crowd or individual in a way that would help them grow in their understanding of God and others.
Only God can truly know the inner person because he has seen every hurt and privilege. He knows our make-up better than any geneticist, and God knows each facet of our environments from birth to grave. He alone can know exactly what we are thinking and what has influenced us to behave in certain ways.
We humans look at events, or listen to conversations, or even facts, and then we still give our opinions from each individual small perspective. Tunnel vision. Thinking I know what someone else is thinking is where I get into the most trouble.
James offers helpful advice for good relationships when he says, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires” (1:19-20).
Some of the most wounding circumstances start with one person misjudging what another is thinking. Many misunderstandings could be avoided if each person clamped off assumptions, listened, asked a few questions, and sent anger to stand in the corner.
June 13, Saturday, is dubbed “Weed Your Garden Day,” a reminder and a call to action. If weeds aren’t pulled, they multiply. Take a walk around your heart garden. See any misjudging there? If so, follow the bumbling Barney Fife’s advice, “Nip it. Nip it in the bud.”
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I started to open a carbonated cola while riding in my husband Dave’s truck and he offered to pull the tab for me even though he was driving. He likes his truck to be clean and neat, so I was immediately a little bit offended, thinking he thought I’d spray the truck’s dashboard with fizz when I pulled the tab. I didn’t voice my thoughts but soon found out my assumption was very off track.
I’d been working on avoiding guesswork, so I asked why he offered to pull the tab, and he said in a gentle voice, “I didn’t want you to break a fingernail.” Because of my earlier assumption, I misjudged—for the moment—his charitable act of kindness.
He simply offered to open a cola can, such an ordinary occurrence, and I misjudged his motives. Just imagine how many larger things in life that we make wrong guesses about.
“Knowing their thoughts” is a phrase that characterizes Jesus in the New Testament. Because Jesus knew the thoughts of men, he could size up hearts and then address a crowd or individual in a way that would help them grow in their understanding of God and others.
Only God can truly know the inner person because he has seen every hurt and privilege. He knows our make-up better than any geneticist, and God knows each facet of our environments from birth to grave. He alone can know exactly what we are thinking and what has influenced us to behave in certain ways.
We humans look at events, or listen to conversations, or even facts, and then we still give our opinions from each individual small perspective. Tunnel vision. Thinking I know what someone else is thinking is where I get into the most trouble.
James offers helpful advice for good relationships when he says, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires” (1:19-20).
Some of the most wounding circumstances start with one person misjudging what another is thinking. Many misunderstandings could be avoided if each person clamped off assumptions, listened, asked a few questions, and sent anger to stand in the corner.
June 13, Saturday, is dubbed “Weed Your Garden Day,” a reminder and a call to action. If weeds aren’t pulled, they multiply. Take a walk around your heart garden. See any misjudging there? If so, follow the bumbling Barney Fife’s advice, “Nip it. Nip it in the bud.”
Friday, June 05, 2009
Pardon My Wrinkles
Annnnnnd the book winner for May is KAREN, notified at her blog and here.
Leave a comment or send an email to [writecat at consolidated dot net] and I’ll enter you name into the June drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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“Discipleship Journal” reported that the “Oxford Junior Dictionary” cut a few words out of the current edition, to reflect Britain’s “modern, multicultural, and multi-faith society.” They cut religious and historical words such as: sin, Bishop, empire, and nun. Some of the modern words that replaced them were: blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, and celebrity.
“Sin is out, celebrity is in,” DJ magazine’s lead words touted. That concept reflects the mindset of some of the world. Much of what God deems sinful is celebrated in society. Sin wrinkles lives, lives that can be pardoned only by the perfect Jesus Christ.
I ordered new sheers for my guest bedroom double windows, and when I opened the package out slid the long, filmy panels. They were remarkably smooth, with the only creases being along the folds due to packaging.
A slip of paper floated to the floor as I looped the sheers over my arms, readying to thread them onto the curtain rods. I thought the manufacturer’s note might contain washing instructions. Written in bold print across the top of the paper was “PARDON MY WRINKLES.”
I’ve been thinking about those words since then and about all the wrinkles folk get as they pass through life, wrinkles caused by poor judgments and giving into selfish desires. Those happenings make dents, folds, and impressions on a person. All of us sin, and none of us are without resulting wrinkles.
I think about the folk Jesus’ holy character attracted. Like us, they had a variety of sin-issues, past and present. In Jesus’ immediate group of disciples was tax collector, Matthew, who had cheated citizens, and Judas, known to steal from the love offerings.
Others were drawn to the purity and joy seen in Jesus, and sought to have the creases smoothed out, to be done with sin. Immoral women and men sought Jesus’ forgiveness and received a permanent pressing — forever relief from wrongs done and help to avoid future wrongs.
People near Jesus also had subtle sins, too. James and John were called Sons of Thunder because of quick tempers. Martha put protocol before people. Thomas struggled with doubt. Peter wanted to correct situations with a sword.
The “Oxford Junior Dictionary” is wrong. Sin is here to stay because it infects people with alarming regularity. The only thing that changed about sin happened over 2,000 years ago, when a perfect Savior came to save a fallen world.
You can’t just take “sin” out of the dictionary and hope it goes away. It can only be removed because, “God so loved the world that he sent his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall never perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
If only the whole world could earnestly plead to God, “Pardon my wrinkles,” then sin could disappear from dictionaries.
Friday, May 29, 2009
On Snippet Judging
Leave a comment or send an email to writecat at consolidated dot net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7
“David and Goliath!” my age five son shouted on that long ago morning when I asked which Bible story he wanted to hear. The story of the young shepherd David slaying an enemy giant with slingshot and five smooth stones was irresistible to a young boy.
This portion of David’s life was almost all my young son knew about David, not really enough to make a judgment about his Bible hero. David, like most of us, cannot be summed up in only one or two life-shaping events. Some of his life was brutal. Much was gentle.
Look at some of the highlights of David’s life: He slew a lion and a bear while tending his father’s sheep. Before he became Israel’s king, he slaughtered enemies as a bride price. He became known as a king at war, fighting against marauding nations.
In one of David’s dark hours and weaker moments, he lusted after Bathsheba, another man’s wife, and committed adultery. When she conceived, David had her soldier-husband Uriah placed in the frontlines of a heated battle, guaranteeing his death.
On a happier note, David brought the captured Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem, and celebrated its return with a public dance before the Lord. He had many intimate talks with God, repenting of adultery and murder. He recorded his dismay and sorrow over his sins in his many psalms. To this day, millions relate to the psalms penned by this ancient shepherd king.
What if I knew nothing of David’s life except that he brought the bride price and men’s body parts to his future father-in-law? What might I think of him? Barbarian. Beast. Possessed.
If King David’s psalms were the only means of learning about him, might my response be more tolerant? When I read about the weak-in-the-flesh David who was remorseful, repentant and aware of God’s unfathomable grace, would I think more kindly toward him?
The old cliché is true—you can’t judge a book by its cover. God said about David, “I have found David son of Jesse a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do.” (Acts 13:22). David took plenty of wrong turns, but his right turns brought him back to God.
A reader asked me to write about making wrong judgments based only on snippets of life, often by what we see, hear, or read. She tagged a common problem. In thoughts, conversations, and writing, unfair and biased opinions are often made.
Michel de Montaign, a religious writer from the middle ages wrote, “There is no man so good, who, were he to submit all his thoughts and actions to the laws, would not deserve hanging 10 times in his life.” We all log less than stellar moments.
We also have times when we can step away from what we see in a small frame of time and can look at the big picture. Author David G. Meyers gives excellent advice about judging, “When torn between judgment and grace, let us err on the side of grace.”
Friday, May 08, 2009
The Secret Holocaust Diaries of Nonna Bannister
April book winner: Lenae, who left a comment at blog.
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
By the time Nonna Lisowskaja turned nine years old, she’d learned four to six languages. Also, she was on a path of learning forgiveness, courage and hope, especially from her mother, maternal grandmother, and her father.
April 21, 2009 was Holocaust Remembrance Day. Just prior to 10:00 o’clock in Israel that day, horns and sirens blared, followed by two minutes of silence. Traffic stopped. Pedestrians stopped. Most bowed their heads remembering the 11 million who perished during the Holocaust, six million were Jews.
I read The Secret Holocaust Diaries the Untold Story of Nonna Bannister a few weeks ago. Nonna, of Russian lineage, was the lone survivor of her family of 35. Later, a young adult, she arrived in New Orleans June 6, 1950 aboard the USNS General Haan, determined that her new life in America would look forward to happier times and not look backward at the evil that caused the loss of her entire family.
She brought with her a packet of documents, photos, post cards, and secret diaries that she had written from an early age on miniscule scraps of paper, in different languages. She kept the striped ticking packet hidden under her clothes and slept with it every night of her life.
She married Henry Bannister soon after her arrival, and they had over 50 years together, rearing three children. Her loving husband knew that Nonna had a painful past, but he also knew that when she was ready, she’d talk about it. He honored her time schedule.
Later in life, Nonna began to translate her diaries into English, transcribing them onto many yellow legal pads. One night she took Henry’s hand and leading him to the attic of their home, she said, “It’s time.”
There amid the dusky lighting and unadorned timbers, she opened a double locked truck. Her past unfolded, as Henry read the transcribed pages. First, he read about her beautiful childhood lived out in Russia with her privileged family. Yet, the later sheets of yellow paper told stories of unspeakable loss and sights that no child should witness.
What makes Nonna’s recounting so outstanding is an overriding sense of joy because of the goodness in others during wartime, often at great risk to themselves. Nonna adopted an attitude of forgiveness and compassion from her family and her Heavenly Father, often giving thanks in her diaries.
I admit, her tender account of her father’s dying is difficult to read, and it’s difficult to comprehend the cruelty that mankind is capable of committing. Having been severely beaten by German soldiers and his eyes gouged out, he lingered with only in-home care for six weeks before he succumbed to his injuries. Nonna said he “remained the same gentle and kind person” forgiving the soldiers who had beaten him.
Rich in spiritual gifts, Nonna’s grandmother left indelible legacies of faith to her granddaughter. Nonna also tells about gentle faith building moments with her mother. Among those are the times she witnessed her mother lovingly caring for frozen German soldiers, their enemies.
Instead of gathering fiction for summer time reading, read The Secret Holocaust Diaries. The charity you find within the pages is like a vacation for the soul. I promise you’ll have new “insights.”
Happy Mother’s Day.
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
By the time Nonna Lisowskaja turned nine years old, she’d learned four to six languages. Also, she was on a path of learning forgiveness, courage and hope, especially from her mother, maternal grandmother, and her father.
April 21, 2009 was Holocaust Remembrance Day. Just prior to 10:00 o’clock in Israel that day, horns and sirens blared, followed by two minutes of silence. Traffic stopped. Pedestrians stopped. Most bowed their heads remembering the 11 million who perished during the Holocaust, six million were Jews.
I read The Secret Holocaust Diaries the Untold Story of Nonna Bannister a few weeks ago. Nonna, of Russian lineage, was the lone survivor of her family of 35. Later, a young adult, she arrived in New Orleans June 6, 1950 aboard the USNS General Haan, determined that her new life in America would look forward to happier times and not look backward at the evil that caused the loss of her entire family.
She brought with her a packet of documents, photos, post cards, and secret diaries that she had written from an early age on miniscule scraps of paper, in different languages. She kept the striped ticking packet hidden under her clothes and slept with it every night of her life.
She married Henry Bannister soon after her arrival, and they had over 50 years together, rearing three children. Her loving husband knew that Nonna had a painful past, but he also knew that when she was ready, she’d talk about it. He honored her time schedule.
Later in life, Nonna began to translate her diaries into English, transcribing them onto many yellow legal pads. One night she took Henry’s hand and leading him to the attic of their home, she said, “It’s time.”
There amid the dusky lighting and unadorned timbers, she opened a double locked truck. Her past unfolded, as Henry read the transcribed pages. First, he read about her beautiful childhood lived out in Russia with her privileged family. Yet, the later sheets of yellow paper told stories of unspeakable loss and sights that no child should witness.
What makes Nonna’s recounting so outstanding is an overriding sense of joy because of the goodness in others during wartime, often at great risk to themselves. Nonna adopted an attitude of forgiveness and compassion from her family and her Heavenly Father, often giving thanks in her diaries.
I admit, her tender account of her father’s dying is difficult to read, and it’s difficult to comprehend the cruelty that mankind is capable of committing. Having been severely beaten by German soldiers and his eyes gouged out, he lingered with only in-home care for six weeks before he succumbed to his injuries. Nonna said he “remained the same gentle and kind person” forgiving the soldiers who had beaten him.
Rich in spiritual gifts, Nonna’s grandmother left indelible legacies of faith to her granddaughter. Nonna also tells about gentle faith building moments with her mother. Among those are the times she witnessed her mother lovingly caring for frozen German soldiers, their enemies.
Instead of gathering fiction for summer time reading, read The Secret Holocaust Diaries. The charity you find within the pages is like a vacation for the soul. I promise you’ll have new “insights.”
Happy Mother’s Day.
Friday, May 01, 2009
But, Daddy, the cat ate the pie."
April book winner: Lenae, who left a comment at blog.
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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The date was my husband’s birthday, a few years ago when our son was 13 and our daughter was 10. Make that several decades ago. David and I readied to go out for an early dinner celebration, and we gave general instructions to the children before we left them home without a babysitter for a few hours.
The specific instructions came from their dad. Our family usually celebrates birthdays with a preferred pie instead of a cake. I’d baked David’s favorite—southern pecan. David told the kids, “You can each have one piece, but I don’t want to come home and find all my pie gone.”
When we returned home about three hours later, the house was dark, the lights out, apparently the kiddos were in bed early. That was out of the ordinary, but we felt so pleased. What obedient children.
When we opened the back door, we smelled the aroma of fresh baking, and when we flipped on the kitchen light, there sat a brand new pie on the table with a note propped against it. The kitchen was spotless.
The note said, “We’re sorry. We let the cat in. We know we’re not supposed to, and the cat ate your pie. You didn’t have any more pecans, so we made you a walnut pie. Love, Russell and Sheryle.”
So, that’s why the kitchen was immaculate and they were tucked into their beds early. We knew something was up. They had gone to bed early hoping the new pie and the note might soften our hearts. They did.
The next morning, we discussed how their disobedience, letting the cat in, had caused them misery. However, we did appreciate their attempt to make things right — pie dough from scratch and the innovative walnut substitution.
My granddaughter Jolie, who is four, loves to hear stories about her mother Sheryle. Recently, I told Jolie the “cat ate the pie” story. Afterwards, I asked Jolie, “Do you think Russell and Sheryle got into trouble?”
She bobbed her chin up and down saying, “Yes,” but I shook my head no. I told her that David, now known to Jolie as Pop, forgave Russell and Sheryle for letting the cat in and thanked them for the fresh pie. I then got to give details about forgiveness to a four year old. Try it some time. It’s fun. I explained that when someone says they are sorry that we are to accept their apology and forget the harm they did to us.
For each offence committed, there is not always an apology, but we can pattern God’s mercy and forgive anyway. The Old Testament prophet Micah said about God, “You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy” (7:18).
Other familiar words are a good starting place for all offenders and would-be forgivers, too, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
To receive mercy, offer mercy. And if you need to get your foot in the door to seek forgiveness, it might not hurt to have a pie in your hands.
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the May drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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The date was my husband’s birthday, a few years ago when our son was 13 and our daughter was 10. Make that several decades ago. David and I readied to go out for an early dinner celebration, and we gave general instructions to the children before we left them home without a babysitter for a few hours.
The specific instructions came from their dad. Our family usually celebrates birthdays with a preferred pie instead of a cake. I’d baked David’s favorite—southern pecan. David told the kids, “You can each have one piece, but I don’t want to come home and find all my pie gone.”
When we returned home about three hours later, the house was dark, the lights out, apparently the kiddos were in bed early. That was out of the ordinary, but we felt so pleased. What obedient children.
When we opened the back door, we smelled the aroma of fresh baking, and when we flipped on the kitchen light, there sat a brand new pie on the table with a note propped against it. The kitchen was spotless.
The note said, “We’re sorry. We let the cat in. We know we’re not supposed to, and the cat ate your pie. You didn’t have any more pecans, so we made you a walnut pie. Love, Russell and Sheryle.”
So, that’s why the kitchen was immaculate and they were tucked into their beds early. We knew something was up. They had gone to bed early hoping the new pie and the note might soften our hearts. They did.
The next morning, we discussed how their disobedience, letting the cat in, had caused them misery. However, we did appreciate their attempt to make things right — pie dough from scratch and the innovative walnut substitution.
My granddaughter Jolie, who is four, loves to hear stories about her mother Sheryle. Recently, I told Jolie the “cat ate the pie” story. Afterwards, I asked Jolie, “Do you think Russell and Sheryle got into trouble?”
She bobbed her chin up and down saying, “Yes,” but I shook my head no. I told her that David, now known to Jolie as Pop, forgave Russell and Sheryle for letting the cat in and thanked them for the fresh pie. I then got to give details about forgiveness to a four year old. Try it some time. It’s fun. I explained that when someone says they are sorry that we are to accept their apology and forget the harm they did to us.
For each offence committed, there is not always an apology, but we can pattern God’s mercy and forgive anyway. The Old Testament prophet Micah said about God, “You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy” (7:18).
Other familiar words are a good starting place for all offenders and would-be forgivers, too, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
To receive mercy, offer mercy. And if you need to get your foot in the door to seek forgiveness, it might not hurt to have a pie in your hands.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Ant Hills of Evidence
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat at consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
Ant Hills of Evidence
Southeast Texas is dotted with ant beds popping up every where. And if you are looking for illustrated Bible lessons about work, just sit and watch the activity around an ant mound for a few minutes.
Noted as one of the wisest men, King Solomon advised some spring and summer sightseeing: “Go the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest” (Proverbs 6:6-8).
With over 11,000 known species of ants on this planet and ants far outnumbering humans, there are plenty of teachers to go around. In my yard, fire ant mounds have cropped up like chill bumps on arms, although probably not the species Solomon watched. Most likely, he observed the industrious harvester ants, living in arid parts of the world.
Harvester ants collect seeds then they carry them into underground chambers, just beneath the crust of the earth. There, workers husk the seeds, and then refuse is carried to the surface while other workers ferry the nutritious part of the seed to storage areas. If the seed is too moist, it is taken above ground to air-dry in the sun. These ants also make bread from seed kernels, food for their larvae.
Many fascinating ant species share our world. Leaf cutter ants farm miniature fungi to supply their colony with food. Aphid-tending ants keep bug-cattle, “milking” them for a honey dew substance. Weaver ants build their homes in trees.
Weaver baby ants forego their cocoon silk while gluing leaves together for the colony’s home. Leaving them vulnerable, the infants are tended in a special nursery until adulthood. God’s ant workers are true marvels.
Ants are not lazy. If they loll around through the summer they go hungry in the winter. I can’t imagine them getting sidetracked as often as I do. Some of life’s current attractions are real time wasters. If time is not spent wisely, my days go into the red, and my week goes bankrupt.
Another Solomon work-proverb is, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10). I think Solomon is saying life will not go on forever; a worker is to stay focused, keeping mind and hands on the same project. Half-heartedness is a salute to laziness, not God.
Hard work has many benefits. One is getting to eat. Other advantages are peace about finished projects, helping our sluggard economy, and guiltless nights of rest when we’ve labored with gusto. This is all very true.
A little ant told me.
Ant Hills of Evidence
Southeast Texas is dotted with ant beds popping up every where. And if you are looking for illustrated Bible lessons about work, just sit and watch the activity around an ant mound for a few minutes.
Noted as one of the wisest men, King Solomon advised some spring and summer sightseeing: “Go the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest” (Proverbs 6:6-8).
With over 11,000 known species of ants on this planet and ants far outnumbering humans, there are plenty of teachers to go around. In my yard, fire ant mounds have cropped up like chill bumps on arms, although probably not the species Solomon watched. Most likely, he observed the industrious harvester ants, living in arid parts of the world.
Harvester ants collect seeds then they carry them into underground chambers, just beneath the crust of the earth. There, workers husk the seeds, and then refuse is carried to the surface while other workers ferry the nutritious part of the seed to storage areas. If the seed is too moist, it is taken above ground to air-dry in the sun. These ants also make bread from seed kernels, food for their larvae.
Many fascinating ant species share our world. Leaf cutter ants farm miniature fungi to supply their colony with food. Aphid-tending ants keep bug-cattle, “milking” them for a honey dew substance. Weaver ants build their homes in trees.
Weaver baby ants forego their cocoon silk while gluing leaves together for the colony’s home. Leaving them vulnerable, the infants are tended in a special nursery until adulthood. God’s ant workers are true marvels.
Ants are not lazy. If they loll around through the summer they go hungry in the winter. I can’t imagine them getting sidetracked as often as I do. Some of life’s current attractions are real time wasters. If time is not spent wisely, my days go into the red, and my week goes bankrupt.
Another Solomon work-proverb is, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10). I think Solomon is saying life will not go on forever; a worker is to stay focused, keeping mind and hands on the same project. Half-heartedness is a salute to laziness, not God.
Hard work has many benefits. One is getting to eat. Other advantages are peace about finished projects, helping our sluggard economy, and guiltless nights of rest when we’ve labored with gusto. This is all very true.
A little ant told me.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Worry Dolls
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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Some Guatemalans hide a worry doll under their pillows at night to chase away fears. Cute as a button and about the size of one, these dolls are about a dollar a dozen.
If one teensy, colorful charm doll could chase away troubles, then I wonder what 50 under a pillow would do? They are whimsical and cute and will fit into a birthday card to a worrier, but even if 25 were held in hand, how could a little figurine solve real problems.
What do you do when worry plows a furrow in your brow? Do you fret to any who will listen? Do you whine? Do you count your blessings, hoping to minimize your troubles?
John Jay Chapman says, “People get so in the habit of worry that if you save them from drowning and put them on a bank to dry in the sun with hot chocolate and muffins they wonder whether they are catching cold.”
Statisticians tell us that less than one percent of what we worry about happening ever comes true. Worry is non-productive. I take that back. Worry can cause actual physical ailments. I guess that’s production even though worry-results are negative. A better word to describe worry is “worthless.” Worry is frivolous, a real waste of thought power. How do you best combat worry?
Ralph Gower in The New Manners and Customs of Bible Times tells about ancient, walled cities and how the entrance gates were often very small so that enemies could not storm the gates in droves and gain entrance.
This presented a problem when wagon loads of grain or caravans of camels loaded with goods arrived. However, the cities had a plan. When merchants appeared at the undersized city gates, porters were hired to shoulder the loads. Large bundles were divided into smaller portions and the goods were toted inside the walls.
This picture of porters reminds me of prayer. When troubles mount, the best possible way to “take a load off” is to be a prayer porter. We frail, made-of-dust creatures are not capable of handling the oversized burdens that life often places at our small gates. But God has opened wide heaven’s gates through the life and gift of Jesus Christ. We can take the whole load into our King’s throne room and lay them down.
Belief and trust in God is vital to our physical and spiritual health. I love the comfort found in 2 Samuel 22:17, when David cried out in prayer and describes the help he received from God: “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.”
If you buy worry dolls, do so as cute decorations but not for solutions. Next time you’re tempted to worry, grab your burdens and tote them through heaven’s massive gates. A prayer porter’s wages are strength, confidence, and joy. It’s one of the best salaries in today’s economy.
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Some Guatemalans hide a worry doll under their pillows at night to chase away fears. Cute as a button and about the size of one, these dolls are about a dollar a dozen.
If one teensy, colorful charm doll could chase away troubles, then I wonder what 50 under a pillow would do? They are whimsical and cute and will fit into a birthday card to a worrier, but even if 25 were held in hand, how could a little figurine solve real problems.
What do you do when worry plows a furrow in your brow? Do you fret to any who will listen? Do you whine? Do you count your blessings, hoping to minimize your troubles?
John Jay Chapman says, “People get so in the habit of worry that if you save them from drowning and put them on a bank to dry in the sun with hot chocolate and muffins they wonder whether they are catching cold.”
Statisticians tell us that less than one percent of what we worry about happening ever comes true. Worry is non-productive. I take that back. Worry can cause actual physical ailments. I guess that’s production even though worry-results are negative. A better word to describe worry is “worthless.” Worry is frivolous, a real waste of thought power. How do you best combat worry?
Ralph Gower in The New Manners and Customs of Bible Times tells about ancient, walled cities and how the entrance gates were often very small so that enemies could not storm the gates in droves and gain entrance.
This presented a problem when wagon loads of grain or caravans of camels loaded with goods arrived. However, the cities had a plan. When merchants appeared at the undersized city gates, porters were hired to shoulder the loads. Large bundles were divided into smaller portions and the goods were toted inside the walls.
This picture of porters reminds me of prayer. When troubles mount, the best possible way to “take a load off” is to be a prayer porter. We frail, made-of-dust creatures are not capable of handling the oversized burdens that life often places at our small gates. But God has opened wide heaven’s gates through the life and gift of Jesus Christ. We can take the whole load into our King’s throne room and lay them down.
Belief and trust in God is vital to our physical and spiritual health. I love the comfort found in 2 Samuel 22:17, when David cried out in prayer and describes the help he received from God: “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.”
If you buy worry dolls, do so as cute decorations but not for solutions. Next time you’re tempted to worry, grab your burdens and tote them through heaven’s massive gates. A prayer porter’s wages are strength, confidence, and joy. It’s one of the best salaries in today’s economy.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Resurrect God's Love
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the April drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
Resurrection Sunday, Easter, is a celebration of God’s extravagant love.
Genuine personal love, like none this world had ever experienced, marked the beginning, the middle, and the end of Jesus’ public ministry. At the beginning, Jesus attended a wedding, an embarrassing event where the host ran out of wine. Without a showy display, Jesus changed water into wine, not several decanters, but an extravagant 75-115 liters. From that time on, Judea, Galilee, and surrounding areas were about to experience unparalleled displays of love, grace, and mercy.
Throughout three years Jesus continued portraying the Heavenly Father with exact measure. The writer of Hebrews described Jesus as “the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being" (1:3). Jesus gave in the same way the Heavenly Father gives—over abundantly.
Jesus freely gave over-the-top care to the needy: withered limbs re-muscled; fishermen's nets overflowed; thousands ate from heaven's bread basket; massive waves and atmospheric elements obeyed his voice and ceased their violent nature — because extravagant God trod the earth in the person of Jesus Christ.
Nature’s obstacles weren't the only places Jesus mirrored the Holy God of heaven. He also crossed social and racial barriers. He esteemed women, often looked upon as mere property. Jesus conversed with a Samaritan woman, and her village hosted Jesus and his disciples for several days. He touched a woman, who was “unclean" because of illness. The outcasts of society, the unwanted, and the shunned ate at the same table with the Master of reconciliation.
As Jesus' last days drew near, in yet another loving kindness, he caused life to return to dead Lazarus, and a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. In attendance, Mary sensed the Master would soon depart this earth and what the exit would cost him. Through a reverent gift she expressed her love.
She poured about two cups of very expensive nard, worth a year’s wages, on Jesus’ feet. The scent permeated the air as she rubbed the rich emollients into his skin, and wiped the excess off with her hair. She had learned over-the-top giving from her superior Teacher.
A few dinners later, Jesus washed his disciples’ dust laden feet, and he called them to carry on his generous mission and calling them to love each other. Within hours, heaven’s mountainous mercy continued at the cross and the tomb where Jesus took on the sins of the world. There, he received undeserved punishment and his death became our rescue. Three days later, Jesus’ body was resurrected.
We resurrect and rekindle Jesus’ loving kindness each time we allow his generosity to flow through the beginning, middle and end of our walk with him.
Happy Resurrection Sunday.
Resurrection Sunday, Easter, is a celebration of God’s extravagant love.
Genuine personal love, like none this world had ever experienced, marked the beginning, the middle, and the end of Jesus’ public ministry. At the beginning, Jesus attended a wedding, an embarrassing event where the host ran out of wine. Without a showy display, Jesus changed water into wine, not several decanters, but an extravagant 75-115 liters. From that time on, Judea, Galilee, and surrounding areas were about to experience unparalleled displays of love, grace, and mercy.
Throughout three years Jesus continued portraying the Heavenly Father with exact measure. The writer of Hebrews described Jesus as “the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being" (1:3). Jesus gave in the same way the Heavenly Father gives—over abundantly.
Jesus freely gave over-the-top care to the needy: withered limbs re-muscled; fishermen's nets overflowed; thousands ate from heaven's bread basket; massive waves and atmospheric elements obeyed his voice and ceased their violent nature — because extravagant God trod the earth in the person of Jesus Christ.
Nature’s obstacles weren't the only places Jesus mirrored the Holy God of heaven. He also crossed social and racial barriers. He esteemed women, often looked upon as mere property. Jesus conversed with a Samaritan woman, and her village hosted Jesus and his disciples for several days. He touched a woman, who was “unclean" because of illness. The outcasts of society, the unwanted, and the shunned ate at the same table with the Master of reconciliation.
As Jesus' last days drew near, in yet another loving kindness, he caused life to return to dead Lazarus, and a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. In attendance, Mary sensed the Master would soon depart this earth and what the exit would cost him. Through a reverent gift she expressed her love.
She poured about two cups of very expensive nard, worth a year’s wages, on Jesus’ feet. The scent permeated the air as she rubbed the rich emollients into his skin, and wiped the excess off with her hair. She had learned over-the-top giving from her superior Teacher.
A few dinners later, Jesus washed his disciples’ dust laden feet, and he called them to carry on his generous mission and calling them to love each other. Within hours, heaven’s mountainous mercy continued at the cross and the tomb where Jesus took on the sins of the world. There, he received undeserved punishment and his death became our rescue. Three days later, Jesus’ body was resurrected.
We resurrect and rekindle Jesus’ loving kindness each time we allow his generosity to flow through the beginning, middle and end of our walk with him.
Happy Resurrection Sunday.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Untie the Colt
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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Two strangers walked up to the donkey, untying it from the hitching post. Astounded, the owners watched while the two men unknotted the leather strap in bright daylight. How brazen! Most thieves preferred moonless nights for rustling cattle.
The owners approached, not accusing of theft, but asking, “Why are you untying our colt?”
The only answer the two men gave, “The Savior needs it.”
When the owners heard the reply, they signaled OK, and Jesus’ disciples walked away, leash in hand, colt in tow. When they reached Jesus, they threw their garments over the colt, as a makeshift saddle blanket.
While reading chapter 19 of Luke, a few new lessons emerged for me. Jesus had told two of his followers to go to a nearby village where they would see a tethered donkey colt. Jesus’ instructions were to “untie the colt,” and “if anyone asks what you are doing, just say, ‘The Savior needs it.’”
From the text, several phrases kept bleeping back into mind. “Untie the colt” is one. When I get wrapped up in my tiny world, binding myself to too many possessions and unhealthy obsessions, the Lord calls me to let go for the kingdom’s sake.
The “colt” and the disciples’ “garments” is a second reminder. Pooled resources underwrote the Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. A colt willingly given and disciples’ garments spread upon its back were combined gifts that ushered the Savior into the city where he received deserved praise and recognition.
In Jerusalem some loved Jesus and some didn’t. One day, a group of hundreds became a welcome committee shouting “Hosanna” and lining the path with small branches. A few days later, denouncing rings of “Crucify him” echoed in the streets. Human nature is mirrored in the contrast.
Inviting a miracle worker into my needy life is easy. Dedicating my resources to the miracle worker’s cause is more difficult. On the same day Jesus’ disciples borrowed the donkey, a chorus of praise rang out for King Jesus. Several sunsets later, Jesus’ innocent blood seeped into the soil outside the city gates.
What do I need to losen my grip from, so I may be a devoted servant to the Savior, the kind who gives him the praise and recognition he deserves?
“Untie the colt and bring it here” resonates in my heart. Because “the Savior needs it” is the call I’m hearing.
Have a blessed Palm Sunday.
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Two strangers walked up to the donkey, untying it from the hitching post. Astounded, the owners watched while the two men unknotted the leather strap in bright daylight. How brazen! Most thieves preferred moonless nights for rustling cattle.
The owners approached, not accusing of theft, but asking, “Why are you untying our colt?”
The only answer the two men gave, “The Savior needs it.”
When the owners heard the reply, they signaled OK, and Jesus’ disciples walked away, leash in hand, colt in tow. When they reached Jesus, they threw their garments over the colt, as a makeshift saddle blanket.
While reading chapter 19 of Luke, a few new lessons emerged for me. Jesus had told two of his followers to go to a nearby village where they would see a tethered donkey colt. Jesus’ instructions were to “untie the colt,” and “if anyone asks what you are doing, just say, ‘The Savior needs it.’”
From the text, several phrases kept bleeping back into mind. “Untie the colt” is one. When I get wrapped up in my tiny world, binding myself to too many possessions and unhealthy obsessions, the Lord calls me to let go for the kingdom’s sake.
The “colt” and the disciples’ “garments” is a second reminder. Pooled resources underwrote the Lord’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. A colt willingly given and disciples’ garments spread upon its back were combined gifts that ushered the Savior into the city where he received deserved praise and recognition.
In Jerusalem some loved Jesus and some didn’t. One day, a group of hundreds became a welcome committee shouting “Hosanna” and lining the path with small branches. A few days later, denouncing rings of “Crucify him” echoed in the streets. Human nature is mirrored in the contrast.
Inviting a miracle worker into my needy life is easy. Dedicating my resources to the miracle worker’s cause is more difficult. On the same day Jesus’ disciples borrowed the donkey, a chorus of praise rang out for King Jesus. Several sunsets later, Jesus’ innocent blood seeped into the soil outside the city gates.
What do I need to losen my grip from, so I may be a devoted servant to the Savior, the kind who gives him the praise and recognition he deserves?
“Untie the colt and bring it here” resonates in my heart. Because “the Savior needs it” is the call I’m hearing.
Have a blessed Palm Sunday.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Questions, Ask God
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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Questions, Ask God
“Are you asking among yourselves what I meant?” Jesus asked this question of his disciples on one of the last occasions he was with all of them (John 16:19 NLT). His followers heard Jesus’ teaching that night, but the essence of what he said didn’t saturate their understanding.
Even though Jesus was in their midst, they chose to ferry their questions back and forth between themselves rather than ask Jesus. Their wonderings could have opened the door to wandering.
Bible studies, Christian literature, one-on-one conversations, lectures and sermons are all ways to increase knowledge about God. The Bible is a God-encyclopedia. But sometimes I don’t comprehend what I read there. The white-space margins in my Bible are littered with question marks.
How is one to get answers to Bible-margin-questions or big question marks in life? Most often, I resort to talking with friends who are on the same journey. Could I be making the same mistake the disciples made?
Even with Jesus sitting at the same table, they debated the intricacies of his message. They ignored the available teacher in their presence.
Jesus, knowing that he would soon be back with the Father in heaven, gave instructions for seeking wisdom after he returned to his first home. “You haven’t done this before. Ask, using my name, and you will receive, and you will have abundant joy” (16:24).
On that same night, Jesus also talked about The Comforter, the Holy Spirit who would “convince the world of its sin, and of God’s righteousness, and of the coming judgment,” and he named the prominent problem in the world. “The world’s sin is unbelief in me” (John 16:8, 9).
While the counsel of godly people is admirable and advisable, the best route for clear answers is a talk with the master of all languages, the Master Theologian. For answers to questions about life, earth, blue skies above and the heavens beyond, God is the ultimate information place.
Questions are a learning tool. Not all of our questions will be answered because God’s thoughts are higher than mans’ thoughts. But there is much that God planned for his creation to understand.
Go to God in Jesus’ name through prayer. Then, as the old gospel hymn says, “I may have doubts and fears” but “just a little talk with Jesus makes it right.”
Jesus’ question reverberates into 2009. “Are you asking among yourselves what I meant?”
Visit Cathy at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/
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Questions, Ask God
“Are you asking among yourselves what I meant?” Jesus asked this question of his disciples on one of the last occasions he was with all of them (John 16:19 NLT). His followers heard Jesus’ teaching that night, but the essence of what he said didn’t saturate their understanding.
Even though Jesus was in their midst, they chose to ferry their questions back and forth between themselves rather than ask Jesus. Their wonderings could have opened the door to wandering.
Bible studies, Christian literature, one-on-one conversations, lectures and sermons are all ways to increase knowledge about God. The Bible is a God-encyclopedia. But sometimes I don’t comprehend what I read there. The white-space margins in my Bible are littered with question marks.
How is one to get answers to Bible-margin-questions or big question marks in life? Most often, I resort to talking with friends who are on the same journey. Could I be making the same mistake the disciples made?
Even with Jesus sitting at the same table, they debated the intricacies of his message. They ignored the available teacher in their presence.
Jesus, knowing that he would soon be back with the Father in heaven, gave instructions for seeking wisdom after he returned to his first home. “You haven’t done this before. Ask, using my name, and you will receive, and you will have abundant joy” (16:24).
On that same night, Jesus also talked about The Comforter, the Holy Spirit who would “convince the world of its sin, and of God’s righteousness, and of the coming judgment,” and he named the prominent problem in the world. “The world’s sin is unbelief in me” (John 16:8, 9).
While the counsel of godly people is admirable and advisable, the best route for clear answers is a talk with the master of all languages, the Master Theologian. For answers to questions about life, earth, blue skies above and the heavens beyond, God is the ultimate information place.
Questions are a learning tool. Not all of our questions will be answered because God’s thoughts are higher than mans’ thoughts. But there is much that God planned for his creation to understand.
Go to God in Jesus’ name through prayer. Then, as the old gospel hymn says, “I may have doubts and fears” but “just a little talk with Jesus makes it right.”
Jesus’ question reverberates into 2009. “Are you asking among yourselves what I meant?”
Visit Cathy at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Garden Learning-March 20
Leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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They may look tacky, but they represent a lot of joy. The empty seed packets taped to my fence at the end of the vegetable rows may be an eyesore because they are attached with duct tape, very small pieces, though.
This is the first vegetable garden I’ve planted in many moons. This garden is small in comparison to the ones I used to plant, but these seeds and plants were put into the ground with high harvest hopes for ripe cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, green beans, and peppers.
I learned to plant a garden from my husband David’s grandmother, Beulah. When I married and moved from Houston to the country, I had little agricultural experience. I’d only been close to fresh vegetables at the grocery store and two corn stalks growing in my parent’s yard.
Someone had given my four-year-old brother Kenny a few kernels of dried corn, and my mother let him plant them in the flower bed at our home. When they got four feet tall, my sister and I, both teens, were mortified that tasseled corn was growing in the front flowerbed for the whole world to see. Later, Grandma Beulah’s instruction cultivated garden appreciation and at least a lime green thumb.
This spring, I’m about three rows shy of having my garden planted. Hubby David came home when I was putting away the watering hose, sharpshooter shovel, hoe, and duct tape. Although Grandma has been gone for 20 years, I told David that grandma “spoke” to me all afternoon. Each time, I’d get ready to chop dry flaky manure into a row or press a large tin can around a tender tomato plant, I’d hear her voice.
The same instructions she’d given me thirty years ago surged forward and helped me with this new plot of ground. I even spoke to her aloud a few times when I messed up. Apologized for several crooked rows. I didn’t use her stake and string method to mark off straight rows, just eyeballed them. I could see her sizing up a slightly curvy row and hear her saying, “Oh well, a crooked row yields more anyway.”
Sophistication and soil don’t often mix. Dirt under fingernails doesn’t go over at a board meeting. We get used to skyscrapers, plastic keyboards, and buying vegetables from grocery bins. But lessons beyond gardening can be learned by placing a lifeless-looking seed into the warmed moist earth and watching for germination, watching for God to keep a promise. When two leaves of a seedling slowly unbend and reach for the sun, a hope unfolds, a promise of “more.”
The word “inspire” came to our language through Latin and Old French and meant to “to breathe.” God breathes life into seeds and souls, and one of the Christian paradoxes is that Christ died to bring life. We, too, can inspire, when we die to self. How do the following words of Jesus inspire you? Memorize and meditate on these this week. I will too, especially as I watch for those seedlings of promise in my backdoor garden.
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24
www.cathymessecar.com
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They may look tacky, but they represent a lot of joy. The empty seed packets taped to my fence at the end of the vegetable rows may be an eyesore because they are attached with duct tape, very small pieces, though.
This is the first vegetable garden I’ve planted in many moons. This garden is small in comparison to the ones I used to plant, but these seeds and plants were put into the ground with high harvest hopes for ripe cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, green beans, and peppers.
I learned to plant a garden from my husband David’s grandmother, Beulah. When I married and moved from Houston to the country, I had little agricultural experience. I’d only been close to fresh vegetables at the grocery store and two corn stalks growing in my parent’s yard.
Someone had given my four-year-old brother Kenny a few kernels of dried corn, and my mother let him plant them in the flower bed at our home. When they got four feet tall, my sister and I, both teens, were mortified that tasseled corn was growing in the front flowerbed for the whole world to see. Later, Grandma Beulah’s instruction cultivated garden appreciation and at least a lime green thumb.
This spring, I’m about three rows shy of having my garden planted. Hubby David came home when I was putting away the watering hose, sharpshooter shovel, hoe, and duct tape. Although Grandma has been gone for 20 years, I told David that grandma “spoke” to me all afternoon. Each time, I’d get ready to chop dry flaky manure into a row or press a large tin can around a tender tomato plant, I’d hear her voice.
The same instructions she’d given me thirty years ago surged forward and helped me with this new plot of ground. I even spoke to her aloud a few times when I messed up. Apologized for several crooked rows. I didn’t use her stake and string method to mark off straight rows, just eyeballed them. I could see her sizing up a slightly curvy row and hear her saying, “Oh well, a crooked row yields more anyway.”
Sophistication and soil don’t often mix. Dirt under fingernails doesn’t go over at a board meeting. We get used to skyscrapers, plastic keyboards, and buying vegetables from grocery bins. But lessons beyond gardening can be learned by placing a lifeless-looking seed into the warmed moist earth and watching for germination, watching for God to keep a promise. When two leaves of a seedling slowly unbend and reach for the sun, a hope unfolds, a promise of “more.”
The word “inspire” came to our language through Latin and Old French and meant to “to breathe.” God breathes life into seeds and souls, and one of the Christian paradoxes is that Christ died to bring life. We, too, can inspire, when we die to self. How do the following words of Jesus inspire you? Memorize and meditate on these this week. I will too, especially as I watch for those seedlings of promise in my backdoor garden.
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24
www.cathymessecar.com
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Timing of a Miracle
Leave a comment at blog or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net , and I’ll enter you name into the March drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday
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When a commercial airliner landed on the Hudson River and all crew and passengers survived, the word “miracle” cocooned the event. And the photos of passengers standing on the aircraft’s wings, submerged just below the water surface, had a walking-on-water appearance. Reporters mentioned that the perfect timing of everything was part of the miracle.
Sometimes it’s both the out-of-this world happening and the timing that displays the workmanship of God. David Biven in “New Light on the Difficult Words of Jesus” shares his knowledge of Jewish history and everyday life, and miracle and miracle-timing are both in the story of Peter and the daytime large catch of fish from the Sea of Galilee (Luke 5:1-11).
Peter and others had fished all night without the protection of modern rubberized rain gear. Brrrr—scholars believe it was winter and inevitable that the men got wet when fishing from their small vessel and handling the net. These Galileans stopped their work at daylight because fish could see the nets in the water and avoided them. The trammel nets and their small boats were typically manned by groups of four men.
After a night of fishing the extremely large nets were washed and allowed to dry, so that the linen lines would not rot. Jesus arrived at dawn while the wrapping-up chores were being completed. Rabbis taught at every conceivable time, so Jesus sat down in Peter’s boat moored a few feet from shore and taught those workers, strollers, and early shoppers gathered at the seaside.
Casting fishermen had strong bodies from tossing the heavy nets and hauling in loads of fish in sodden nets. But when Jesus arrived it was going-home-time for these night fishermen. The weary crew was probably hungry and had just spent a night’s work for nothing. No catch. No fish. No pay.
The text says that Jesus sat in Peter’s boat and taught. How do you tell the Lord of the earth that you’re tired and you just want to eat some bread and go to sleep? I wonder if Peter cleared his throat to get Jesus’ attention. Peter apparently bided his time, and soon Jesus said to the fishermen, “Push out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.” Were they astounded? It was daylight. Didn’t this rabbi know anything? A fishing excursion in broad daylight? With their nearly dry nets? On regular trips, the men often had to jump into the frigid water and untangle nets or scare the fish into the nets. Who wanted that cold job again?
Despite all the possible arguments against Jesus’ request, the fishermen and Peter obeyed, and when they cast the huge net, fish apparently swam blindly into it. Throughout the night, human effort had yielded zero fish. In bright sunlight in God’s timing, he herded a huge school of fish toward their net. Peter then fell at Jesus’ feet and worshiped him.
David Biven concludes that the “timing of the miracle” helped the fishermen see the hand of God working. God shows his workmanship when a star falls, when spring arrives, when a plane lands on the Hudson, when a school of fish swim into a net. Watch for the work of God. It might be highly visible, or silent, or it simply may be in the timing.
Visit Cathy at www.cathymessecar.com
Friday, March 06, 2009
How the Story of Ben-Hur Came About
February Book Winner: Congratulations to Brenda Drazkowski. Send me your physical address, Brenda, and I’ll send you either The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas First, your choice. Can’t decide: read reviews at http://www.amazon.com/
Send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or leave a comment at blog: http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/ to enter the March book contest
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Converse with 20 Christians and they will tell you 20
different ways God piqued their interest in him and encouraged their belief in Christ. One such story comes from the Civil War General Lew Wallace who authored the book Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ.When a young boy, Wallace’s mother told him about the Wise Men, who searched for the King of the Jews. That story intrigued him throughout his adult years, and he eventually wrote “The First Christmas,” a fictional account of the Wise Men. He didn’t submit it for publication, but put it away. His church attendance sporadic, he confessed that his “attitude with respect to religion had been one of absolute indifference.”
He read sermons from some of the “best preachers” of his day—Bossuet, Chalmers, Robert Hall, and Henry Ward Beecher—but only “for the charm of their rhetoric.” In 1876, a “chance” meeting with atheist Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll, breached his indifference. On a train together, Ingersoll discounted believers in God, Christ and heaven with “argument, eloquence, wit, satire,” and “brilliant antitheses,” Wallace later wrote.
At his destination, General Wallace disembarked alone. Instead of taking the streetcar, he chose to walk because of his “confusion of mind.” He had no answers to any of the Colonel’s opinions. Wallace, ashamed of his ignorance, remembered the manuscript he’d written about the Wise Men searching for The Christ Child.
He decided to finish the story through to the crucifixion. He reasoned that the writing would oblige him to study the Bible and everything relevant to the event. He thought he would then possess “opinions of real value.” The book Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ resulted. Wallace also journeyed to a belief in Jesus, “a conviction amounting to absolute belief in God and the Divinity of Christ.”
God addresses unbelief in this statement: “I am God and there is no other; I am God and there is none like me.” He continued, “My purpose will stand; and I will do all that I please. From the east I summon a bird of prey; from a far-off land, a man to fulfill my purpose” (Isaiah 46:10-11). God knows how, when, and where to stimulate interest in himself, even through an atheist’s opinions.
The story of the Jewish prince Judah Ben-Hur and his path to belief became a stage play. The chariot race presented an obstacle to the stage production, but eventually, in the play first performed on Broadway in 1899, eight trained horses pulled chariots and ran on treadmills.
After 21 years of worldwide performances, an estimated 21 million people viewed the stage production. One historian said the play "brought millions to their feet to cheer and more millions to their knees to pray?"
Later, MGM produced the 1959 motion picture Ben-Hur, starring Charlton Heston, which won 11 of the 12 nominated Academy Awards. An animated version, featuring the voice of Charlton Heston, and I watched the DVD with my young grandsons.
During the movie, we talked of ancient Roman rule and Rome, Italy today, and in a lighter moment, I explained the difference between leopards and lepers. They asked questions about Jerusalem culture and questions about God. They showed empathy for the sick and oppressed. Those special moments are treasures for me. And they had their beginnings in Civil War General Lew Wallace’s journey—a journey to The Christ.
(Suggested family activity leading up to Easter: Watch the movie Ben-Hur.)
Visit Cathy at http://www.cathymessecar.com/
Friday, February 27, 2009
Fasting From Clamor
As usual, leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net and your name will be entered into the February book drawing. Winner will be announced when I send out next week’s column.
FASTING
I’ve heard if the devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy. During this season of traditional fasting, Ash Wednesday to Easter, I want to fast from junk mail. Sometimes I feel like a tree landed on my home, only it descended in sheets of paper.
Catalogs, credit card applications, political brochures—reams of paper are toted into our home after passing through our mailbox. Perhaps, someone will invent a mailbox with a shredder. Even pricey, I might invest in one.
But junk mail isn’t the only culprit that crowds taxed schedules. Busyness is sometimes self-inflicted when overdoses of entertainment is preferred to productive work or rest. A television, telephone, or a computer has a place in life, but over indulgence can become addictive.
A health and science Web site reports the average household has a television on 6 hours and 47 minutes, and that 66% of families watch television and eat dinner. Annually, a staggering 260 billion hours of TV is watched by Americans.
During Lent many people of faith are fasting, but not all are fasting from food. At the first semester of seminary, a professor asks his students to fast from media for one week. Another professor/mentor recommended that a female student fast from dating for three months. She found that she had time to focus on studies and life direction. She then quarantined herself from dating for an additional three months.
In Lauren F. Winner’s book Mudhouse Sabbath, she tells how she fasted from reading during Lent. Fasting isn’t just denial; it has a purpose. Ms. Winner wrote, “We give up something for Lent to align ourselves with the heart, will, and experience of Jesus.”
Ms. Winner said, “Fasting teaches us that we are not utterly subject to our bodily desires. And in sated and overfed America, fasting reminds us, sharply, of the poor.” Fasting is like walking a tightrope where imbalance is really noticed. For many, denial of self is foreign, but God calls followers to contemplation, meditation, solitude, silence and abstinence, especially in this directive, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
Lauren Winner also says about fasting, “It is a necessary tool for rousing us from our day-to-day sleepwalking.” Are we trudging in the trench the world has carved out? Are we in a stupor from cultural demands? Do we feel compelled to answer each time the planet rings our doorbell?
Until Easter, I encourage you to find some way to fast from the clamor. Be quiet. Be still. Know God.
Vist Cathy at www.cathymessecar.com
FASTING
I’ve heard if the devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy. During this season of traditional fasting, Ash Wednesday to Easter, I want to fast from junk mail. Sometimes I feel like a tree landed on my home, only it descended in sheets of paper.
Catalogs, credit card applications, political brochures—reams of paper are toted into our home after passing through our mailbox. Perhaps, someone will invent a mailbox with a shredder. Even pricey, I might invest in one.
But junk mail isn’t the only culprit that crowds taxed schedules. Busyness is sometimes self-inflicted when overdoses of entertainment is preferred to productive work or rest. A television, telephone, or a computer has a place in life, but over indulgence can become addictive.
A health and science Web site reports the average household has a television on 6 hours and 47 minutes, and that 66% of families watch television and eat dinner. Annually, a staggering 260 billion hours of TV is watched by Americans.
During Lent many people of faith are fasting, but not all are fasting from food. At the first semester of seminary, a professor asks his students to fast from media for one week. Another professor/mentor recommended that a female student fast from dating for three months. She found that she had time to focus on studies and life direction. She then quarantined herself from dating for an additional three months.
In Lauren F. Winner’s book Mudhouse Sabbath, she tells how she fasted from reading during Lent. Fasting isn’t just denial; it has a purpose. Ms. Winner wrote, “We give up something for Lent to align ourselves with the heart, will, and experience of Jesus.”
Ms. Winner said, “Fasting teaches us that we are not utterly subject to our bodily desires. And in sated and overfed America, fasting reminds us, sharply, of the poor.” Fasting is like walking a tightrope where imbalance is really noticed. For many, denial of self is foreign, but God calls followers to contemplation, meditation, solitude, silence and abstinence, especially in this directive, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
Lauren Winner also says about fasting, “It is a necessary tool for rousing us from our day-to-day sleepwalking.” Are we trudging in the trench the world has carved out? Are we in a stupor from cultural demands? Do we feel compelled to answer each time the planet rings our doorbell?
Until Easter, I encourage you to find some way to fast from the clamor. Be quiet. Be still. Know God.
Vist Cathy at www.cathymessecar.com
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Jiggles
As usual, send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or comment here for your name to be entered into a drawing for a book The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJiggles
How do you react when things go awry? I’m asking about those times when small things happen, not the tragic things in life. What if you lock your keys in the car? Or a glass of milk spills?
If you’re breathing, annoyances happen with certain regularity. This past Sunday morning, my very old hair dryer gave up the ghost, and I was rushing to be on time. Showered and dressed, the finishing touch was to style my hair. That’s when the dryer puffed a few feeble breaths and killed over. I didn’t have a spare. Or spare minutes.
I turned on the overhead bathroom heater and stood underneath with a hand towel and style brush, hoping to get my short hair to a level of damp instead of drippy. When my husband checked on my getting-ready-for-church progress, he solved my problem.
He held a small space heater close to my hair and let the heat do its work. The style was a bit askew, but I was very grateful for my short cropped hair and thoughtful husband.
I remember having a conversation with one of my children about living above small aggravations, about how Christians could react. Throughout life, our days will get jiggled. That’s a good name for small annoyances – jiggles. Sometimes jiggles are easily taken in stride, if no other pressures coincide with them. But many times jiggles hop onto our days when the days are already full of confusion, and then we add our own explosion.
Since we can expect jiggles in future days, why not plan how to react. Nearly all of us (you saints excluded) have responded in typical ways: shoving or kicking an object, swearing or grousing.
Better reaction plans involve replacement. Plan what you will do or say next time a jiggle knocks on your day. One thing that works is to decide on a positive statement that can be said instead of venting frustrations. Of course, coworkers might wonder what is going on when a four pound box drops on your foot and you say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” But it’s a superior alternative to hearing a person swear under their breath.
No one can live a perfect life and react with constant pleasantness when the unexpected happens but planning a reaction is very worthwhile, because the plan will work most of the time. Children watch and learn from adults and can become skilled in their reactions when their own jiggles come calling.
Responding to annoyances with scripture phrases from the Psalms is one calming way to address life-hassles. Try saying these words next time a jiggle occurs: “Make your face shine upon your servant” (119:135), “Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble” (119:165). Or perhaps you’d prefer more familiar words that can restore your soul, “He leads me beside quiet waters” (23:2).
Have a good week, and may it be jiggle-free.
Visit Cathy at http://www.cathymessecar.com/
JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJiggles
How do you react when things go awry? I’m asking about those times when small things happen, not the tragic things in life. What if you lock your keys in the car? Or a glass of milk spills?
If you’re breathing, annoyances happen with certain regularity. This past Sunday morning, my very old hair dryer gave up the ghost, and I was rushing to be on time. Showered and dressed, the finishing touch was to style my hair. That’s when the dryer puffed a few feeble breaths and killed over. I didn’t have a spare. Or spare minutes.
I turned on the overhead bathroom heater and stood underneath with a hand towel and style brush, hoping to get my short hair to a level of damp instead of drippy. When my husband checked on my getting-ready-for-church progress, he solved my problem.
He held a small space heater close to my hair and let the heat do its work. The style was a bit askew, but I was very grateful for my short cropped hair and thoughtful husband.
I remember having a conversation with one of my children about living above small aggravations, about how Christians could react. Throughout life, our days will get jiggled. That’s a good name for small annoyances – jiggles. Sometimes jiggles are easily taken in stride, if no other pressures coincide with them. But many times jiggles hop onto our days when the days are already full of confusion, and then we add our own explosion.
Since we can expect jiggles in future days, why not plan how to react. Nearly all of us (you saints excluded) have responded in typical ways: shoving or kicking an object, swearing or grousing.
Better reaction plans involve replacement. Plan what you will do or say next time a jiggle knocks on your day. One thing that works is to decide on a positive statement that can be said instead of venting frustrations. Of course, coworkers might wonder what is going on when a four pound box drops on your foot and you say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” But it’s a superior alternative to hearing a person swear under their breath.
No one can live a perfect life and react with constant pleasantness when the unexpected happens but planning a reaction is very worthwhile, because the plan will work most of the time. Children watch and learn from adults and can become skilled in their reactions when their own jiggles come calling.
Responding to annoyances with scripture phrases from the Psalms is one calming way to address life-hassles. Try saying these words next time a jiggle occurs: “Make your face shine upon your servant” (119:135), “Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble” (119:165). Or perhaps you’d prefer more familiar words that can restore your soul, “He leads me beside quiet waters” (23:2).
Have a good week, and may it be jiggle-free.
Visit Cathy at http://www.cathymessecar.com/
Friday, February 13, 2009
Pressure Cookers
As usual, send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or comment here for your name to be entered into a drawing for a book The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.
Happy Valentines Day. This is a photo of a native Texas flower called Turk's Cap. It grows into a large bush if given plenty of room and is covered throughout the spring and summer with eye catching red flowers, petals swirling upward. I have some at my old house and plan to get a start at the new house, too. They're fun and came from a dear writer friend, Morna Smith, who has given me lots of cuttings from native Texas plants.
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Love is in the air. Tomorrow is February 14, Valentines Day, and I remembered a gift my sweetheart and I received from relatives before our marriage. An aunt and uncle gave us a pressure cooker, one that will cook a beef stew in about eight minutes and raw vegetables in two to five minutes.
I doubt that many new brides receive pressure cookers these days. I wanted my daughter, who has a young family, to get one to save her time, but she feared the contraption. She’d heard a few horror stories of misuses and mishaps, of dinner sliding down kitchen walls.
The basic parts of a pressurized cooker are a pot, a lid with twist and lock design and a synthetic seal. The lid has a pencil size pointed vent where a weight sits, letting steam periodically escape. Mine has an extra vent. If the pot is forgotten, that vent will open instead of letting the built up steam blow off the lid.
Occasionally a cook wanders away from the kitchen and can’t hear the “jiggle” sound, the dance between the pressured steam and the weight. One friend recalled a day when she soaked beans, put them into her pressure cooker, and then turned the flame on high and walked outside to see about her kiddos. Soon, she was pushing them on their swings, catching them as they used the slide, and pulling weeds from the flowerbed.
While distracted, she heard a big thump inside her home and ran in to see the pressure lid on the floor and beans impaled on the textured sealing. Gravity helped with the cleanup. She refers to the mini-explosion as the day it “rained pinto beans.”
In February, frilly red hearts, chocolate, and roses represent love, but a marriage has a whole lot of plain days when it’s more like a pressure cooker. A marriage is mortgages, Mondays, mini-people, and morning coffee, stirred by a wife and husband with different backgrounds and personalities.
The best Valentines gift to a spouse, parents, children, bosses, and coworkers is to commit the apostle Paul’s love instructions in 1 Corinthians 13 to memory and practice them every day. The positives he mentions are “Love is patient, love is kind.”
Then Paul lists what is absent when love is present: “It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.”
Finally, Paul lists the “always” aspects of love, the do and do not results: “It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
This Valentines Day, bake cookies, share candy and flowers, or pull out the old pressure cooker and make a special meal for those you love. To add the best ingredient to any relationship, practice perfect love. This, “Love never fails” (13:8).
Visit Cathy at http://www.cathymessecar.com/
Monday, February 09, 2009
January Book Drawing Winner: Mary Ellen C.
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As usual, send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or comment at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/ for your name to be entered into a drawing for a book The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.
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Tumbleweeds
I know the folk in West Texas thought we were fools. And we resembled the remark.
On a pleasure trip in our pickup truck to the mostly flat side of Texas, I became fascinated with tumbleweeds. Sort of like the first time you see a rare bird. And some of the tumbleweeds did flit close to the earth.
Intrigued, I asked my husband, David, if we could take a load of tumbleweeds home. Earlier, a friend mentioned that they decorated a scrawny tumbleweed for Christmas. That sounded whimsical, like fun.
If I remember correctly, Dave balked just a little about my suggested cargo. After all, he would be driving the load through miles of curious, guffawing onlookers, who surely deemed the weeds debris.
If course tumbleweeds cross the road in front of a low slung sports car, they can scratch paint, damage the undercarriage or grate over hoods. They can even get tangled in moving parts and break air hoses underneath trucks.
On that day when I made my bizarre request, Dave said yes. He kindly caved to my insane want. We stopped along a roadside where a fence had corralled a good number of the cumbersome bushes. A few ranchers and locals did slow their vehicles to gawk as we harvested tumbleweeds.
The Seattle Times, in 2001, reported on weeds whose taproots absorbed radiation on the Hanover Nuclear Reservation, contaminating the plant before they became separated and roving. On a search and destroy mission, crews were sent out to test for “glowing” tumbleweeds.
A variety of plants have the “habit” of breaking away from their roots and traveling. In fact “tumbleweed” doesn’t describe a specific plant but a habit of such plants that separate from their root system and then roll about. When plants separate from their root system, they lose their source of nourishment, air currents have their way with them, and they are blown about by every sort of wind.
I couldn’t think of a creative way to use all my tumbleweeds, so most of them were burned with the fall leaves on a tranquil day. But other folk have found ways to profit from these weeds. The Prairie Tumbleweed Farm in Kansas has turned the Russian thistle, which arrived here in imported grain years ago, into a booming business. Some of their tumbleweeds are four times as big as a person, and they sell them around the world to enhance western movies, theme parks, businesses, and homes. Wedding planners know where to go to authenticate settings for a cowboy to marry a cowgirl.
Asaph the psalmist made a complaint about those who formed an “alliance against you, O God” (83:5), and he further asked, “Make them like tumbleweed, O my God” (vs. 13). Asaph knew that when people move away from their source of goodness that they dry up, that they can do much damage, and that they will be consumed by the harsh elements they’re exposed to as they wander here and there.
For most audiences, the consensus is that tumbleweeds are up to no good. They’ve lost their mooring, their grounding. When they break away from their place of sprouting, that’s when they become wobbly and unstable – that’s when the winds from the north, south, west or east shove them around.
Old western song lyrics describe how a lot of folks live, “Drifting along with a tumbling tumbleweed.” But, I prefer the words and freedom from other psalm lyrics, “I hold fast to your statutes, O LORD . . .. I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.” (119:31-32).
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As usual, send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or comment at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/ for your name to be entered into a drawing for a book The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.
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Tumbleweeds
I know the folk in West Texas thought we were fools. And we resembled the remark.
On a pleasure trip in our pickup truck to the mostly flat side of Texas, I became fascinated with tumbleweeds. Sort of like the first time you see a rare bird. And some of the tumbleweeds did flit close to the earth.
Intrigued, I asked my husband, David, if we could take a load of tumbleweeds home. Earlier, a friend mentioned that they decorated a scrawny tumbleweed for Christmas. That sounded whimsical, like fun.
If I remember correctly, Dave balked just a little about my suggested cargo. After all, he would be driving the load through miles of curious, guffawing onlookers, who surely deemed the weeds debris.
If course tumbleweeds cross the road in front of a low slung sports car, they can scratch paint, damage the undercarriage or grate over hoods. They can even get tangled in moving parts and break air hoses underneath trucks.
On that day when I made my bizarre request, Dave said yes. He kindly caved to my insane want. We stopped along a roadside where a fence had corralled a good number of the cumbersome bushes. A few ranchers and locals did slow their vehicles to gawk as we harvested tumbleweeds.
The Seattle Times, in 2001, reported on weeds whose taproots absorbed radiation on the Hanover Nuclear Reservation, contaminating the plant before they became separated and roving. On a search and destroy mission, crews were sent out to test for “glowing” tumbleweeds.
A variety of plants have the “habit” of breaking away from their roots and traveling. In fact “tumbleweed” doesn’t describe a specific plant but a habit of such plants that separate from their root system and then roll about. When plants separate from their root system, they lose their source of nourishment, air currents have their way with them, and they are blown about by every sort of wind.
I couldn’t think of a creative way to use all my tumbleweeds, so most of them were burned with the fall leaves on a tranquil day. But other folk have found ways to profit from these weeds. The Prairie Tumbleweed Farm in Kansas has turned the Russian thistle, which arrived here in imported grain years ago, into a booming business. Some of their tumbleweeds are four times as big as a person, and they sell them around the world to enhance western movies, theme parks, businesses, and homes. Wedding planners know where to go to authenticate settings for a cowboy to marry a cowgirl.
Asaph the psalmist made a complaint about those who formed an “alliance against you, O God” (83:5), and he further asked, “Make them like tumbleweed, O my God” (vs. 13). Asaph knew that when people move away from their source of goodness that they dry up, that they can do much damage, and that they will be consumed by the harsh elements they’re exposed to as they wander here and there.
For most audiences, the consensus is that tumbleweeds are up to no good. They’ve lost their mooring, their grounding. When they break away from their place of sprouting, that’s when they become wobbly and unstable – that’s when the winds from the north, south, west or east shove them around.
Old western song lyrics describe how a lot of folks live, “Drifting along with a tumbling tumbleweed.” But, I prefer the words and freedom from other psalm lyrics, “I hold fast to your statutes, O LORD . . .. I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.” (119:31-32).
Friday, January 30, 2009
The Lost Son
Whew! Can you believe January is almost over? For some of us it’s probably dragged out like a bad cough, for others it’s zoomed along like sneeze. Pass the Kleenex, it’s been a sneezy month for me. Where did the days go? Why haven’t I accomplished the things on my January list? I don’t have an answer but I know like Jacob and Joseph I’m smack dab in the middle of God’s plan for my life. And I will move forward in slow motion or in a trot. We’re winding up the story of Jacob and Joseph this week. May God bless you as you contemplate these two dear men, who trusted God to guide their days.
As usual, leave a comment here or send an email to writecat@consolidated.net to have your name entered into the January book drawing.
The Lost Son Restored
The bustle in a house / The morning after death / Is solemnest of industries / Enacted upon earth, / -The sweeping up the heart, / And putting love away / We shall not want to use again / Until eternity.- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
In the Old Testament saga, dear old Jacob has thought for decades that his son Joseph is dead. One woman described losing someone to death as having a literal hole in her body. She pointed to her mid-section and said, “I can tell you where it’s at. It’s here.”
In this last installment, the patriarch Jacob who is father to 12 sons will display amazing faith in risking two more sons’ lives to spare his entire clan, but Jacob will receive a surprise ending.
Earlier, ten sons sold their brother Joseph into slavery, deceiving their father Jacob by making him believe Joseph was dead. But Joseph is very much alive, and through the years, God unfettered Joseph’s chains, and Joseph has risen next in command to the Pharaoh of Egypt.
With seven years of a bumper crop and then seven years of famine predicted, Joseph has stored up “beyond measure” amounts of food in Egyptian warehouses. When the famine finally hit, patriarch Jacob sends 10 sons into Egypt to buy grain. There, unfolding events will reveal their sordid past deeds.
When the brothers see the man next in command to Pharaoh, they fail to recognize family traits in his face. However, Joseph knows they are his brothers, but he hides his identity and emotions. After inquiring about their family, he discovers his very old father is still alive. Through a series of arranged tests, Joseph makes his brothers vow to bring youngest brother Benjamin to Egypt when they return for grain.
As a guarantee, Joseph detains his brother Simeon. So, nine brothers arrive in their homeland with news that Simeon is imprisoned, and when they return to Egypt, they’re to bring the youngest son Benjamin or they cannot buy more grain.
Soon, out of grain, starvation threatens Jacob’s large family. After much heart wrenching, Jacob stamps Benjamin’s passport saying, “May God Almighty grant you mercy….As for me, if I am bereaved, I am bereaved” (43:14).
Jacob is at a low point in life—a severe famine threatens lives, one son is presumed dead, one is detained in prison, and he now has to send off his baby boy. Relying on the Almighty, Jacob makes a tough decision. Jacob expects more heartache, but God plans a different ending.
Years ago, Jacob’s loss of Joseph left a huge gap in his life. Jacob will soon need that stowed-away love. In compassion, God will allow father and son, to embrace again. This Genesis history is not really about patriarchs and lost sons, it’s really a story about God who is righter-of-wrongs. He can shatter misery. After all he knows that one day he will give up a son to save families, too.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Have any of you had any spy ware sneak into your computer? I did and my computer was in the shop last week, so I didn’t get to send out my column. Today, you’re getting a double installment in the Jacob and Joseph saga, and next week, we’ll wrap up this series with thoughts about staying on God’s path and how God restores what was lost—it’s a recurring theme with God’s people.
As usual, send an email to writecat@consolidated.net or comment here for your name to be entered into a drawing for a book The Stained Glass Pickup or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.
NEWSPAPER COLUMN From JANUARY 16
“When it rains it pours” is an old saying meaning when Trouble arrives it’s followed by its kin Double Trouble. That’s probably what the young Joseph felt when his brothers sold him into slavery, and his life went from pleasant to punishing. A Psalmist later wrote about Joseph, “They bruised his feet with shackles, and his neck was put in irons” (105:18).
Last week, we left the Old Testament patriarch Jacob absorbing tragic news: His ten oldest sons had sold Joseph, and then they deceived Jacob into thinking that his beloved 17 year old Joseph had been mauled by a wild animal and killed.
Chained, Joseph was headed for Egypt’s auction block. Did he feel abandoned? Large question marks must have punctuated every thought. What will become of me? Will I die soon? Will I be beaten? Will I ever see my family again? Where is God? Does he see? Does he know? His questions may be similar to what many ask today.
We’ve read the end of the story and know that God’s long range plan was unfolding. But Joseph is in the middle of the script, the live actor and he has no way to flip the pages to read the pleasant ending -- of being reunited with family and of becoming God’s hero who helped to save millions from starvation. But even in the middle of his miserable journey, Joseph is smack dab in the heart of God’s plan.
But the monsoons are coming, and he will go through some really muddy places before he sees positive results. However, throughout the biblical account of Joseph’s lonely sojourn away from his family, there are several compassionate descriptions of God and his constancy with Joseph: “The LORD was with Joseph and he prospered” (Genesis 39:2); “. . . the LORD was with him . . . and the LORD gave him success in everything he did” (39:3).
God’s generously granted wisdom to the young man and a definite pattern formed in his life. Even away from hands-on parental guidance, Joseph behaved honorably. Potiphar bought him, eventually giving him management over all his household and business. God blessed all the enslaved Joseph did, and the grace received by Joseph splashed onto all of Potiphar’s holdings, increasing his wealth.
We’ve all seen enough weather and life patterns to know that just behind the sunny days, the cloudy ones gather. Just when God and Joseph niched out a place in Potiphar’s trust, the lustful wife of Potiphar enters the stage.
Joseph was apparently “well built and handsome” (Genesis 39:6) Yes, the Bible says Joseph was, in today’s vernacular, a hunk. Mrs. Potiphar grew fond of Joseph in a very unhealthy way, and repeatedly sought him out. Joseph kept evading her, but one day, he ran out of her presence so hurriedly that she grabbed his cloak.
When Potiphar came home, Mrs. Potiphar fabricated a story about Joseph and an attempted assault. Falsely accused, Joseph got tossed to the bottom rung of life again. He ended up in a dungeon with royal prisoners. Again Joseph is faced with seemingly impossible circumstances, but dungeons don’t deter deity.
God repeated his efforts of blessing Joseph with wisdom, and soon the jailer put Joseph in charge of prison facilities, and there “the LORD was with him; he showed him kindness and granted him favor in the eyes of the prison warden” (39:21). The text says the warden didn’t pay attention to anything under Joseph’s care. That’s how good he was at managing. Joseph may be unhappy, but the warden now had free time to go Nile-fishing. Some days bring gloom. Some days bring brightness.
Joseph’s story speaks to paying attention on both rainy days and sunny days. A wise saying from future King Solomon addresses such. And it’s still good advice whether windshield wipers or sunshades are needed: “On a good day enjoy yourself; on a bad day, examine your conscience. God arranges for both kinds of days so that we won’t take anything for granted” (Ecclesiastes 7:14).
NEWSPAPER COLUMN FOR JANUARY 23, 2009
We re-visit Joseph’s story during a very tough personal time for him. Within a decade or so, more hard times will fall upon his homeland and Egypt. Joseph is still awaking in a prison each day. Although, he’s gained favor with the warden and is in a trusted position, there’s nothing appealing about being locked away from society, about staring at the same limited scenery day after day.
Joseph doesn’t know it but he is about to be set free. Some of his cell mates are the king’s former cupbearer and baker, and Joseph’s sensitivity to others shows when he asks them, “Why are your faces so sad today?”
The night before, both had significant dreams, dreams which begged to be interpreted. Joseph asked to hear their dreams, and assisted by God, he correctly determined the meanings.
Eventually, the poor baker was hanged and the fortunate cupbearer was restored to his position of honor. Before he left the confines of the dungeon, Joseph requested a favor from the wine taster, “Show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison” (40:14).
“The chief cupbearer, however, did not remember Joseph; he forgot him” (Genesis 40:23). Two full years passed. That’s a long time to be morally obligated to Joseph and to forget his ally.
God then sent double dreams to the Pharaoh. In one he saw seven gaunt cows eat seven fat cows, and in the other he watched as seven blighted heads of grain ate seven healthy full heads.
Troubled, the Pharaoh asked his magicians and wise men the meaning of his dreams. I suspect they were more than intimidated by His Majesty’s request. After all, he could hang or knight you. No one even tried to conjure up the meaning.
The need prompted the cupbearer’s memory, “Today I am reminded of my shortcomings.” He even went so far as to remind the king why he’d been imprisoned and explained how Joseph, the dungeon keeper, had correctly interpreted his dream. I’m starting to warm up to this cupbearer, this righter of wrongs.
Joseph was summoned and after he had shaved and put on clean clothes, he came before Pharaoh. Still giving credit to God, he told how the land of Egypt would be blessed with seven years of bounty followed by seven years of severe famine. He advised that a discerning man be employed to head up a mighty storage effort during the years of plenty.
Pharaoh recognized the “spirit of God” was in Joseph and appointed him over everything in the land except the throne. Within a few hours, God culminated Joseph’s pitiable years of mistreatment into a top political position, from dungeon director to officiating next to Pharaoh.
Improbable outcomes seem to be God’s specialty. Our dreams in his capable hands can turn into reality. Dare to dream and pray big this year: “For nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).
****************************************************************************
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Friday, January 16, 2009
Books for the Road--Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity
Resting on the seventh day doesn’t fit neatly into our busy lives, but Keri Wyatt Kent provides functional advice to help pause and refresh even the busiest life overrun with demanding jobs, countless kids’ activities and getting dinner on the table. Kent combines her own life experiences as a soccer mom with her study of the ancient practice of resting one day of the week, known as the Sabbath, in her new book Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity (Zondervan, January 2009). She invites readers to rediscover the practice of Sabbath in a practical and accessible format.
Kent bases her study on Jesus’ teachings and actions and explores six aspects of Christian spiritual practice that lead to Sabbath Simplicity: resting, reconnecting, revising, pausing, playing and praying. Practicing these six actions creates space in our lives for rest and renewal.
When asked what is Sabbath, its purpose and what do you mean by Sabbath Simplicity, Kent answered:
"Sabbath, first and foremost, is a gift from our loving God. He invites us to take a day to rest from our labor, so that we might engage in relationship with him and with others. Its purpose is to refresh us physically and spiritually, to celebrate our freedom, to draw us close to God, and yet to remind us that we are not God.
"God commanded us to Sabbath, to stop. But Sabbath-keeping is also a spiritual practice or discipline. All disciplines, (like prayer, solitude, etc.) create some space for God in our lives. Just as we have a lot of latitude in other practices (we can pray any number of ways, for example), we have freedom in how we practice Sabbath. My book offers a lot of ideas, and real-life examples, of how to approach this life-giving practice.
"Sabbath Simplicity is a sanely-paced, God-focused life. It’s a lifestyle that includes the practice of Sabbath-keeping, but goes beyond just taking a day off. In a way, it’s living out what Jesus told us to do in Matthew 6:33: Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Sabbath Simplicity seeks God first."
So if you are looking for a take-along book that will touch your spiritual senses, try Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity.
Resting on the seventh day doesn’t fit neatly into our busy lives, but Keri Wyatt Kent provides functional advice to help pause and refresh even the busiest life overrun with demanding jobs, countless kids’ activities and getting dinner on the table. Kent combines her own life experiences as a soccer mom with her study of the ancient practice of resting one day of the week, known as the Sabbath, in her new book Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity (Zondervan, January 2009). She invites readers to rediscover the practice of Sabbath in a practical and accessible format.
Kent bases her study on Jesus’ teachings and actions and explores six aspects of Christian spiritual practice that lead to Sabbath Simplicity: resting, reconnecting, revising, pausing, playing and praying. Practicing these six actions creates space in our lives for rest and renewal.
When asked what is Sabbath, its purpose and what do you mean by Sabbath Simplicity, Kent answered:
"Sabbath, first and foremost, is a gift from our loving God. He invites us to take a day to rest from our labor, so that we might engage in relationship with him and with others. Its purpose is to refresh us physically and spiritually, to celebrate our freedom, to draw us close to God, and yet to remind us that we are not God.
"God commanded us to Sabbath, to stop. But Sabbath-keeping is also a spiritual practice or discipline. All disciplines, (like prayer, solitude, etc.) create some space for God in our lives. Just as we have a lot of latitude in other practices (we can pray any number of ways, for example), we have freedom in how we practice Sabbath. My book offers a lot of ideas, and real-life examples, of how to approach this life-giving practice.
"Sabbath Simplicity is a sanely-paced, God-focused life. It’s a lifestyle that includes the practice of Sabbath-keeping, but goes beyond just taking a day off. In a way, it’s living out what Jesus told us to do in Matthew 6:33: Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Sabbath Simplicity seeks God first."
So if you are looking for a take-along book that will touch your spiritual senses, try Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity.
Friday, January 09, 2009
God's Road Map for Jacob
A note to readers: We moved two weeks before Christmas, so it's been a blessed and hectic past month including caring for our four parents, the book launch, writing columns, running our business, children and grands, cleaning out old house and getting ready for remodeling to use as rent house -- a good stir of many things and God's grace splashed over all of it.
I said all of that to offer an apology for not posting here or mailing out my newsletter, but I'm back!
***********************************************************************
DECEMBER BOOK WINNER: Connie L. is the winner of either A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts or The Stained Glass Pickup. Send me a note with your mailing address and I'll get either of those books in the mail to you.
Same as 2008, send me a note or leave a comment here and your name will be entered to win a book, monthly drawing.
***********************************************************************
New beginnings are like new cars all wrapped up in intoxicating leathery smell. But this January, hope may be in the back seat of your old jalopy. If so, you may enjoy taking a peek at an Old Testament family and the twists and turns in their lives and how God’s direction helped them overcome all kinds of obstacles: drought, hurt because of wrong doing, riffs between kin, dire news, and much more.
For the next few weeks, we’ll look at the family of Jacob who was Dad to 12 boys. Number 11 son, Joseph, was favored above the rest “because he had been born to him in his old age” (37:3). Dad Jacob seemed to coddle Joseph, and when he was a teen, he was presented with a richly ornamented robe, maybe the equivalent of a new car in our day.
Joseph turned out to be one of those dream-tellers. Do you know a person who does that? They can remember what they dreamed months ago. I can’t remember rolling over last night, much less the weird cranial scamperings going on while I slept.
But this 17 year old Joseph could recall certain dreams with clarity, and he wasn’t only a dream re-caller, he was a dream re-teller. The trouble -- the dreams he remembered were about him lording it over the rest of his family. In one, he and all his brothers are binding grain in a field, and the brothers’ sheaves bow down to Joseph’s sheaf. The older males scoffed when hearing that one.
And Joseph had another dream where the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed down to him. He even ruined Daddy’s meal when he described that at the dinner table. None could imagine the pipsqueak of the family with any fame. They had no wisdom that Joseph’s dreams were prophetic, early messages which no one would understand until much later.
Brotherly love long gone, one day the brood of older brothers sold their teenage sibling into slavery, to a caravan of Midianite merchants journeying into Egypt. Joseph’s pampering ended that day. But little known to all, God held the future map in his hand. He had routed the path. Joseph would later rule in this foreign country and help save his clan and many others.
Even though the end of this story is eventually beautiful, there’s a camel load of heartache along the route. Can you imagine the wrinkled Jacob’s face when the ten older sons show him Joseph’s gorgeous coat soaked in goat’s blood? They allowed their father to believe a wild animal had mauled Joseph and torn him to pieces.
This is terrible place to halt this epic, a real cliffhanger. The twig on the precipice has broken and Joseph will hit a few more rocks on the way down.
We leave Jacob and Joseph, daddy and son, mourning a lost relationship, but God is there with them. He is also in the days ahead when his plan unfolds to reunite an entire family and move them into a spacious saving place.
God is more adept than any, a master of helping us maneuver bumpy roads, and when the time is right he will guide us into a good U-turn, one that restores our feet to a new beginning.
I said all of that to offer an apology for not posting here or mailing out my newsletter, but I'm back!
***********************************************************************
DECEMBER BOOK WINNER: Connie L. is the winner of either A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts or The Stained Glass Pickup. Send me a note with your mailing address and I'll get either of those books in the mail to you.
Same as 2008, send me a note or leave a comment here and your name will be entered to win a book, monthly drawing.
***********************************************************************
New beginnings are like new cars all wrapped up in intoxicating leathery smell. But this January, hope may be in the back seat of your old jalopy. If so, you may enjoy taking a peek at an Old Testament family and the twists and turns in their lives and how God’s direction helped them overcome all kinds of obstacles: drought, hurt because of wrong doing, riffs between kin, dire news, and much more.
For the next few weeks, we’ll look at the family of Jacob who was Dad to 12 boys. Number 11 son, Joseph, was favored above the rest “because he had been born to him in his old age” (37:3). Dad Jacob seemed to coddle Joseph, and when he was a teen, he was presented with a richly ornamented robe, maybe the equivalent of a new car in our day.
Joseph turned out to be one of those dream-tellers. Do you know a person who does that? They can remember what they dreamed months ago. I can’t remember rolling over last night, much less the weird cranial scamperings going on while I slept.
But this 17 year old Joseph could recall certain dreams with clarity, and he wasn’t only a dream re-caller, he was a dream re-teller. The trouble -- the dreams he remembered were about him lording it over the rest of his family. In one, he and all his brothers are binding grain in a field, and the brothers’ sheaves bow down to Joseph’s sheaf. The older males scoffed when hearing that one.
And Joseph had another dream where the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed down to him. He even ruined Daddy’s meal when he described that at the dinner table. None could imagine the pipsqueak of the family with any fame. They had no wisdom that Joseph’s dreams were prophetic, early messages which no one would understand until much later.
Brotherly love long gone, one day the brood of older brothers sold their teenage sibling into slavery, to a caravan of Midianite merchants journeying into Egypt. Joseph’s pampering ended that day. But little known to all, God held the future map in his hand. He had routed the path. Joseph would later rule in this foreign country and help save his clan and many others.
Even though the end of this story is eventually beautiful, there’s a camel load of heartache along the route. Can you imagine the wrinkled Jacob’s face when the ten older sons show him Joseph’s gorgeous coat soaked in goat’s blood? They allowed their father to believe a wild animal had mauled Joseph and torn him to pieces.
This is terrible place to halt this epic, a real cliffhanger. The twig on the precipice has broken and Joseph will hit a few more rocks on the way down.
We leave Jacob and Joseph, daddy and son, mourning a lost relationship, but God is there with them. He is also in the days ahead when his plan unfolds to reunite an entire family and move them into a spacious saving place.
God is more adept than any, a master of helping us maneuver bumpy roads, and when the time is right he will guide us into a good U-turn, one that restores our feet to a new beginning.
God's Roadmap Jacob
New beginnings are like new cars all wrapped in intoxicating leathery smell. But this January, hope may be in the back seat of your old jalopy. If so, you may enjoy taking a peek at an Old Testament family and the twists and turns in their lives and how God’s direction helped them overcome all kinds of obstacles: drought, hurt because of wrong doing, riffs between kin, dire news, and much more.
For the next few weeks, we’ll look at the family of Jacob who was Dad to 12 boys. Number 11 son, Joseph, was favored above the rest “because he had been born to him in his old age” (37:3). Dad Jacob seemed to coddle Joseph, and when he was a teen, he was presented with a richly ornamented robe, maybe the equivalent of a new car in our day.
Joseph turned out to be one of those dream-tellers. Do you know a person who does that? They can remember what they dreamed months ago. I can’t remember rolling over last night, much less the weird cranial scamperings going on while I slept.
But this 17 year old Joseph could recall certain dreams with clarity, and he wasn’t only a dream re-caller, he was a dream re-teller. The trouble -- the dreams he remembered were about him lording it over the rest of his family. In one, he and all his brothers are binding grain in a field, and the brothers’ sheaves bow down to Joseph’s sheaf. The older males scoffed when hearing that one.
And Joseph had another dream where the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed down to him. He even ruined Daddy’s meal when he described that at the dinner table. None could imagine the pipsqueak of the family with any fame. They had no wisdom that Joseph’s dreams were prophetic, early messages which no one would understand until much later.
Brotherly love long gone, one day the brood of older brothers sold their teenage sibling into slavery, to a caravan of Midianite merchants journeying into Egypt. Joseph’s pampering ended that day. But little known to all, God held the future map in his hand. He had routed the path. Joseph would later rule in this foreign country and help save his clan and many others.
Even though the end of this story is eventually beautiful, there’s a camel load of heartache along the route. Can you imagine the wrinkled Jacob’s face when the ten older sons show him Joseph’s gorgeous coat soaked in goat’s blood? They allowed their father to believe a wild animal had mauled Joseph and torn him to pieces.
This is terrible place to halt this epic, a real cliffhanger. The twig on the precipice has broken and Joseph will hit a few more rocks on the way down.
We leave Jacob and Joseph, daddy and son, mourning a lost relationship, but God is there with them. He is also in the days ahead when his plan unfolds to reunite an entire family and move them into a spacious saving place.
God is more adept than any, a master of helping us maneuver bumpy roads, and when the time is right he will guide us into a good U-turn, one that restores our feet to a new beginning.
Visit Cathy at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/
For the next few weeks, we’ll look at the family of Jacob who was Dad to 12 boys. Number 11 son, Joseph, was favored above the rest “because he had been born to him in his old age” (37:3). Dad Jacob seemed to coddle Joseph, and when he was a teen, he was presented with a richly ornamented robe, maybe the equivalent of a new car in our day.
Joseph turned out to be one of those dream-tellers. Do you know a person who does that? They can remember what they dreamed months ago. I can’t remember rolling over last night, much less the weird cranial scamperings going on while I slept.
But this 17 year old Joseph could recall certain dreams with clarity, and he wasn’t only a dream re-caller, he was a dream re-teller. The trouble -- the dreams he remembered were about him lording it over the rest of his family. In one, he and all his brothers are binding grain in a field, and the brothers’ sheaves bow down to Joseph’s sheaf. The older males scoffed when hearing that one.
And Joseph had another dream where the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed down to him. He even ruined Daddy’s meal when he described that at the dinner table. None could imagine the pipsqueak of the family with any fame. They had no wisdom that Joseph’s dreams were prophetic, early messages which no one would understand until much later.
Brotherly love long gone, one day the brood of older brothers sold their teenage sibling into slavery, to a caravan of Midianite merchants journeying into Egypt. Joseph’s pampering ended that day. But little known to all, God held the future map in his hand. He had routed the path. Joseph would later rule in this foreign country and help save his clan and many others.
Even though the end of this story is eventually beautiful, there’s a camel load of heartache along the route. Can you imagine the wrinkled Jacob’s face when the ten older sons show him Joseph’s gorgeous coat soaked in goat’s blood? They allowed their father to believe a wild animal had mauled Joseph and torn him to pieces.
This is terrible place to halt this epic, a real cliffhanger. The twig on the precipice has broken and Joseph will hit a few more rocks on the way down.
We leave Jacob and Joseph, daddy and son, mourning a lost relationship, but God is there with them. He is also in the days ahead when his plan unfolds to reunite an entire family and move them into a spacious saving place.
God is more adept than any, a master of helping us maneuver bumpy roads, and when the time is right he will guide us into a good U-turn, one that restores our feet to a new beginning.
Visit Cathy at http://stainedglasspickup.blogspot.com/
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