Look at the Doors in Your Home

During the Middle Ages, merchant and craft guilds sprang up across Europe. They became an important part of medieval life because a man could attain a higher social status if he belonged to a guild. The English word “guild,” first used sometime in the fourteenth century, meant “payment, tribute, or compensation.” The merchant or craft guilds in towns and cities held exclusive rights to do business in their communities. As they monopolized commerce, they often took over the governance of the same townships.

            A guild from that era caught my attention because the artistry continues to influence us today. The Woodcraftsmen’s Guild in England took as their motto the words of Christ, “I am the door” (John 10:9). These carpenters followed the governing practices of other guilds, and apprentices began working with woods as young teenagers, serving five to nine years. At this training stage, the teens remained single and did not receive pay (only room and board). Those who honed their skills could advance to the next level of “journeyman,” with that title came the freedom to marry.

            A journeyman received pay for his labor, and during this stage of time, work on a masterpiece to present to the top artisans in the guild. The masterpiece could show special skills and expertise, and if judged superior could possibly make the journeyman eligible to become a “master.” If he achieved the status of “master,” he could open his own shop and begin to train apprentices.

            Many craft guilds existed: candle makers, bakers, apothecaries, masons, cloth makers, tanners, and cobblers. However, the one I’m fascinated with is the carpenter guild because you may have a product in your home that still reflects their purpose, work, and motto. That product is a door, and it could become an ever-present reminder of Jesus Christ who said, “I am the door.”

            If you have a four-paneled door or even a six-paneled door, look at it closely, most have the design of a cross in relief. The cross design in your door is not an accident. The Woodcraftsmen Guild chose to include the sign of the cross in each door. The beautiful pattern has stood the test of time, and its use continues today, pleasing to the eyes.

            The lyrics of “The King of Love My Shepherd Is” includes the phrase “the cross before to guide me.” The hymn and that lyric first came to my attention because of the group L’Angelus (www.langelus.com), who performed Cajun music at the Catfish Festival in Conroe, Texas. My friend Eddie later gave me a CD of their hymns. That specific hymn quickly became a favorite because the lyrics mirror those of Psalm 23. You may recall hearing this Irish melody hymn at the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, in Westminster Abbey, London, 1997.

      That most familiar psalm of David’s says, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” A parallel verse in the hymn of consideration says, “In death’s dark vale I fear no ill With Thee, dear Lord, beside me; Thy rod and staff my comfort still, Thy cross before to guide me.”

      Another verse depicts Jesus as Shepherd, “Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love He sought me, And on His shoulder gently laid, And home, rejoicing, brought me.” Often in childhood, I saw the picture of Jesus with a lamb across his shoulders, and I know it had early influence over my thinking, long before I could read.

      When I studied the Bible in later life, I discovered how accurately that picture portrays the Christ. I saw further evidence of that care in additional scriptures and especially in the tender care experienced in life. We’ve all had times when our wobbly lamb legs will not hold up the weight of life. That’s when, bigger than life itself, more powerful than any natural force on earth, the Savior Shepherd bends to scoop us up, taking our burden upon his shoulders, similar to how he carried his own cross for our sakes. This week, watch for the cross symbol in doors, and allow them to remind you, “Thy rod and staff my comfort still, Thy cross before to guide me.”

      Hunger for Humility (Week 34) “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.” (Isaiah 40:11)

"We're all bright in spots"

When Francis was a child, she made a comment about a special needs child. Overhearing her conversation, her dad told her not to look down upon anyone whose life or circumstances caused them personal pain. However, for her preacher dad, the verbal teaching wasn’t enough. He put legs on his lesson.

            He told his daughter that he wanted her to go for a ride with him. On the road, he told her about his childhood friend, a girl, who made a habit of making fun of others. Soon, they arrived at the “girl’s” home, who was now an adult with a family of her own. The minister knocked on the door, and his friend from childhood was delighted to see him. It seems he made regular visits to encourage this caregiving mom. After going inside, the minister introduced his daughter Francis and asked about the wellbeing of the woman’s family.

            He specifically asked about a daughter named Teresa. The mother replied that all was well, and continued, “Teresa’s about the same. Do you want to say hello?”

            The minister replied yes and led little Francis into a room where twenty-one-year-old Teresa lay in a bed – her body held captive by her mind, not advanced beyond that of a two-year-old child.

            Recently, the grandmother-aged Francis related the story to me saying, “I’ve never forgotten the power of that experience.” If her dad had only verbally chastised her for making fun of someone, the instructions might have faded, but he wanted to teach a lasting lesson and he succeeded.

            This week’s humility lesson, based on Jeremy Taylor’s rule thirteen encourages believers to “rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15).  Taylor’s  (1613-1667) rule thirteen in the language of his day: “Suffer others to be praised in thy presence, and entertain their good and glory with delight; but at no hand disparage them, or lessen the report, or make an objection; and think not the advancement of thy brother is a lessening of thy worth.”

            Let’s say that in Texanese: Make a habit of praising others, not finding fault. Don’t subtract from that praise by pointing out some fault of the person’s being. When you hear a good report about someone else, don’t think poorly of yourself because you don’t have similar or equal gifts or honors.

            I first discovered Taylor’s rules in Randy Harris’ book, “Soul Work: Confessions of a Part-Time Monk.” Harris furthers understanding of rule thirteen saying, “If we have a moment of deep and sudden honesty. . . Taylor catches us here.” He continues, “We all have had a moment when we heard about somebody’s failure and everything in you said, ‘Yes!’” Harris further says, “Or we’ve had a moment when we heard about somebody’s success and everything in us says, ‘Too bad.’”

            For me, the rule indicates looking for a genuine quality in a person and encouraging them by noticing their gift. Too many people live in a negative atmosphere. Awful things happen to moral people. Our minds accuse us of missteps. Haughty people delight in pointing out the faults of others. Family members point out mistakes and rarely overlook minor offenses. People sorely lack someone who will step up and extend a gentle kindness or congratulate them on an accomplishment.

            After all, everyone has disabilities. We’re all flawed. No one is perfect. Our inadequacies could have crippled us for life, but most of us by the grace of God had good souls come along and nurture our graces. I spent a few days working with Francis, and I saw in her a resolute spirit of encouraging others to make good choices. Francis is a tough-love woman with an endearing, fun-loving spirit.

            This week, as we all work toward becoming more humble people, look for the good you see in others, and choose to praise them. You may have to look a long time at the worse among us, but you’ll find something to praise. As my husband, David, fondly says, “We’re all bright in spots.”

            Hunger for Humility (week 33): “To speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people.” (Titus 3:2 ESV)

            Cathy Messecar welcomes comments here or at www.cathymessecar.com       

Jezebel, "A Boy Named Sue," and Jesus

“Jezebel to the front registers, please.” Multiple customers awaited checkout at the department store when I heard that announcement. My first thought after hearing her summoned: “Why would parents name their child Jezebel?"

            Queen Jezebel mentioned in scripture was an extremely over-the-top malicious woman. If Satan had a wife, she’d probably resemble this royal matron of the Bible. Because of the early evil associated with that name, I wondered why anyone would christen a newborn baby girl with that moniker. After pondering on the trials of receiving an infamous name, I thought why not redeem the name of a queen gone bad. Why not allow something good to rise from the ashes of evil.  

            All of a sudden, I admired the modern Jezebel for not insisting on a name change once she reached legal age. Maybe this current Jezebel’s parents hoped that she’d overcome any negatives from bearing the notorious name. Could Jezebel have been the name of a loving aunt, who had already added virtue to the name?

            That day as I walked to my car, I remembered the Johnny Cash song, “A Boy Named Sue.” He first performed it to a prison audience, the song more recitation than actual singing. Out of all of Cash’s recordings, “A Boy Named Sue” remained his biggest hit, because all have challenges from setbacks.

            Another name I never heard as a given name is “Friend.” Our trucking company sends paperwork through a Beaumont regional office each year. Generally, I mail information and money for apportioned tags, and don’t speak on the phone to office personnel. However, the few times I phoned to ask questions, a female clerk spoke with me and asked for additional information to be mailed. She instructed me to write, “Attention: Friend” on the envelope. I reasoned it was a code word.  

            One year, due to a looming deadline, I drove the paperwork to Beaumont, and I met Friend, her name plaque on her desk followed by her last name. Thrilled by her unique name, I was curious. I asked how she came by her name, and she said that “Friend” was her grandmother’s name. The clerk lived up to her ancestry through her good manners and kind help.

            A teacher matching names and faces in her new class of first-graders, asked one little boy, “What’s your name?”

            “Jule”

            “Not Jule,” she said. “You shouldn’t use nicknames; I see your name is Julius.” Turning to the next boy, she asked him his name.

            “Billious,” he answered.

            You may have a name you love, tolerate, or despise, but the name itself doesn’t define you, no matter the name’s past history of good or bad. Your personality, nature, and behavior create your make-up. Moses the most humble man on the face of the earth grew into his title somewhere along his 120-year life. Others share Jesus’ name, but only our Savior has innate humility. Although superior, his humility allowed him to give up the sanctuary of heaven to live among us, demonstrating the fullness of God’s love.

            If asked to identify your main characteristic, what would a friend say? Would he or she say humility? As I thought through that question and considered my character, I had to take a deep sobering breath. Humble living takes hours of effort and a plentiful diet of humble pie.   

            Our names do not describe us. Our character does that. The little boy Sam Houston in the television series “Christy” called his given name his front name. This week’s challenge to all – seek to live humbly – give your front name a good reputation.     

            Hunger for Humility (32): “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself.” (Philippians 2:3)

          

Uprooting Bitterness

Yellow bitter weeds now bloom in pastures. Transplanted from Europe, they thrive in much of the United States. Because of an unpleasant aroma and taste, cows usually don’t nibble on the plants. However, if a cow has nothing else to eat and consumes the weed, her milk has a rank taste.

            One resource said insects have disagreeable reactions within 30 seconds after ingesting the noxious weeds. Toxic to sheep, farmers try to eliminate it from pastures. By experience or instinct, animals and insects learn to avoid the harmful wild plant. 

            People can also have unpleasant experiences with “bitter weed” friends. Although blessed, these close acquaintances choose to look at what goes wrong instead of counting blessings. To them, something is wrong with almost everything, so they whine, groan, and fault find, carping through morning, noon, and night. For them, noticing the good things in life is rare as an eclipse.

            After spending one hour with such a person, my attitude can warp and worsen too. Occasionally, I borrow their dark sunglasses, and the world gets gloomier. Unfortunately, bitterness is an attitude that roots easily and multiplies rapidly.

            Commercial herbicides will rid weeds from a pasture, but how does a spirit get rid of bitterness? Small irritants and larger evils occur in life, so Paul wrote to the Ephesian Christians telling them how to respond as children of light: 

            Paul’s said to put off your old self. Be made new in the attitude of your minds. Who helps us transform our minds? God does. He gives us new eyes to see what is beautiful and to practice thanksgiving in two ways: aloud and inwardly. Paul tells Christians don’t pillow your heads with anger in your hearts, because the bitterness bedbugs damage at such times. Before the sun sets or the moon rises, Paul said to be kind, compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you (paraphrase of Ephesians 4:20-32). 

            When bitterness settles in a soul, the devil can use that fissure to toss the tiniest seeds of other evils into that bedding, providing a marshy place where ills multiply. During a summer drought, the foundation to our house moved and cracked. Because the foundation weakened, other cracks appeared in sheetrock walls. Through all those cracks creepy-crawlies walked right in to make my home their home. 

            One day, I glimpsed a small lizard darting around the legs of the breakfast table. My grandchildren squealed as they watched me pest patrol and control. On hands and knees, with an empty plastic container and lid, I made several of my best lizard-catching moves for a capture. We placed the small reptile outdoors, the same place bitterness belongs – outside the human heart.  

Bitterness is really a pride issue: Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Why do bad things happen in my life? I deserve better. I don’t deserve to be ill or have trouble in my family. A wise person said, “Why not me? I’m no better than anyone else.”    To weed out disturbing bitterness, practice daily thanksgiving. Keep a piece of paper handy and jot down blessings as you encounter them. As your mind and heart move to different good scenes of the past and present, amazingly, light will crowd out the dark bitter spirit.

In a concentration camp where bitterness could have soared off the charts, Corrie ten Boon and her sister were thankful for lice infested barracks. Because of those pests, the male guards didn’t molest the already traumatized women. Look for the good in every pasture of bad times. Be on guard. Let bitterness reside only in dictionaries, not on the pages of souls.

Hunger for Humility (31): “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:31).

    

Big Pride, Big Mistake

Nebuchadnezzar. Big name. Big head. Big mistake. I recap his story as we again consider a rule (number 12) that Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667) wrote for humble living.

            As usual I’ll repeat it in the language of his day, “Entertain no fancies of vanity and private whispers of this devil of pride, such as was that of Nebuchadnezzar.” The ancient king made a boastful statement about the kingdom he’d created by his own might and that’s when God humbled the king in a unique way. Taylor notes that most of us have daydreamed about a fantastic moment when we might obtain some greatness. If a person dreams of becoming an actor, they might dream of an audience and thunderous applause.

            Someone might dream of climbing the corporate ladder to sit behind a desk plaque that reads CEO. Have you ever daydreamed of inheriting millions from a long lost uncle? And it only took five minutes to dream the scenario and spend all the money! Taylor refers to these daydreams as “imaginative pleasures.” However, he creatively calls them “fumes of pride.”

            Let’s look at Nebuchadnezzar II and what brought about his humbling. The book of Daniel contains this portion of the king’s story. Historians credit his reign with huge building projects, completing some his father started. His war campaigns also added captives to the Babylon workforce that built extravagant structures, including the legendary Hanging Gardens.

            One day when King Nebuchadnezzar walked on the roof of his royal palace he said, “Is not this the great Babylon I have built as the royal residence, by my mighty power and for the glory of my majesty?”

            We’ve all been tempted when prideful thoughts arise in our hearts. If one is in tune with God, we know that our next breath comes only because he ordained it. Humble people recognize the sin of bragging before it ever reaches the lips. Apparently, the king said all this aloud, because, “The words were still on his lips when a voice came from heaven: ‘This is decreed for you King Nebuchadnezzar: Your royal authority has been taken from you. You will be driven away from people and will live with the wild animals; you will eat grass like cattle.’” The prophecy continued, “Seven times will pass by for you until you acknowledge that the Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of men and gives them to anyone he wishes” (Daniel 4:28-37).

            At once, all of the things happened to the king. Brought low, his subjects drove him from the royal courts where he began to eat grass like cattle. We’re told the dew drenched his back until his hair grew thick like the “feathers of an eagle” and his nails like the “claws of a bird.” To say he was unkempt would be a compliment. Insanity seems to have accompanied his seven-year sentence as he lived with the animals of the field under the canopy of heaven with God alone as his caretaker.

            The king gives a first person account of what happened at the end of that time, “I, Nebuchadnezzar, raised my eyes toward heaven, and my sanity was restored. Then I praised the Most High; I honored and glorified him who lives forever.” The king went on to declare that God resides over an eternal dominion, that man has no power unless given to him by the Most High, and no one can stop something he has ordained.

            The king went on to say, “My honor and splendor were returned to me for the glory of my kingdom.” He said he became greater than ever before, but along with that pronouncement, he praised and exalted the King of heaven, the one who placed him on his throne.

            Daniel 4 gives more details about this episode in the king’s life when he learned a lesson in a pasture that he refused to learn in splendor. Our humility scripture for today is a direct quote from that long ago king. Have any of us had imaginative daydreams of might, power, or wealth lately? Be on your guard against the seeds of sinful pride that starts in the thoughts. Even though King Nebuchadnezzar realized great wealth and power, they turned into “fumes of pride.”           

            Nebuchadnezzar. Big name. Big head. Big mistake.

            Hunger for Humility (30): “The King of heaven . . . everything he does is right and all his ways are just. And those who walk in pride he is able to humble” (Daniel 4:37).

          

A Humility Writing Exercise

When is the last time you wrote something? Well, besides signing your name on a credit card slip.

God used reading and writing to teach kings humility. How did that work? After his coronation, a king of Israel was to borrow a copy of the law from the priests, the tribe of Levi, and then the king was to copy the law onto a scroll. He then kept the personal scroll nearby because God commanded, “[A]nd he is to read it all the days of his life” (Deuteronomy 17:19).  

When kings carried out this command, the exercise of copying God’s commands benefited the king and his subjects. Spending that much time with God and his law, a king could learn to revere God, and intimate knowledge of the decrees allowed any king to become a better leader and more proficient judge.

God declared that kings additionally profited from the copying and the ensuing reading exercise because it was a soul workout, a heart test, a mind strengthening time when a king learned not to “consider himself better than his brothers and turn from the law to the left or to the right” (17:20).

History has indexed infamous heads of states, those who chose power over humility, who chose aggression over compassion, and who chose self over others. In those awful rulers, a wicked pattern took hold, and then evil rulers hoisted themselves above God’s plan, oppressing and sometimes killing their fellowman.

However, God set a standard for godly leaders. God wrote laws on stone that would aid leaders and subjects to love and respect others and their property. He then wanted king-leaders to copy each law, and while the king scratched out the law of God on papyrus, God could inscribe his heart.

Kings weren’t the only ones to receive writing assignments from God. God gave Moses the lyrics to a song and told him to write the song down and teach it to Israel. The song in Deuteronomy 32, reminds Israel of God’s loving-kindness and Israel’s response, which wasn’t always gracious to their caregiver God.

God’s words support every moment of life –that’s what leader Joshua found out. Joshua was instructed, “Do not let the Book of the Law depart from your mouth; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it.” For God’s part of his covenant with Joshua, he promised, “[F]or the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:6-9).

The author of Psalm 119 recognized the advantages of meditating on God’s words: “I will never forget your precepts, for by them you have renewed my life” (vs. 93). In addition, the words of God will help a person focus on the important things in life and bypass the trivial: “Turn my eyes away from worthless things; renew my life according to your word” (vs. 37).

How long has it been since you wrote a scripture that especially meant something to you? Writing and reading aids learning. When it’s nestled in your brain, God can implant the essence of the words into your heart and put them to work in your life.

Want to practice the lessons meant to teach a king humility? This week, copy a favorite Bible verse and keep it nearby. Read it often. Give it time to move from the Bible pages through the avenues of your life.  Then watch for changes as the word journeys from head to heart.

Hunger for Humility (29): “Give me understanding, and I will keep your law and obey it with all my heart” (Psalm 119:34).

Be Nice to Your Sister

“Be nice to your sister.” “Be nice to your brother.” Did you hear that as many times in your youth as I did in mine? How many times have any of us said that as parents? I think adults need those reminders, too. . 

            I’ve told you this story before. One summer day the heat neared 100 degrees, and my car battery refused to start the engine. In a very crowded shopping strip with cars jammed together like sliced bread, I phoned two males in my family for advice.

            Both out of town, one advised bumping the battery cables to see if they were loose. The other advised calling a wrecker. Since battery CPR did no good, I phoned a wrecker.

            The sun beat down. Sweat beaded. With the car hood popped open, I avoided eye contact. I didn’t want anyone to think they had to stop and help in that heat. High humidity moistened my clothes, but unfortunately it didn’t moisten my throat.

            I waited in store-awning shade and watched shoppers jockeying for close-to-the-store parking spaces. My car was only three spaces from the sidewalk. Heat waves shimmered above the pavement. The car next to mine backed out, so I ran and stood in the vacant spot so the wrecker could conveniently pull alongside and use jumper cables.

            However, he was another six minutes arriving. Thirst mounted. Perspiration trickled. Where is the ozone layer when you need it? I hoisted my black umbrella over my head and politely turned away shoppers who tried to swing into the close-to-the store-vacant spot. Actually, these were your cousins and mine. I read that all humans are kin by no more than a 50^th cousin relationship. 

            At least 20 cousins drove by looking for that illusive close parking. Nineteen were polite, courteous, and conversational, even asking if help was on the way. Thank you to all those 30^th and 40^th considerate cousins.

            Then the exception to the rule rolled up. One person forgot her manners, pounded on her steering wheel, shook her head and fist and mouthed angry words from behind her rolled up windows in her air conditioned car. 

            Those nineteen people who gave warm smiles equaled nineteen cups of cold water to me. James, a follower of Jesus, wrote, “If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself,’ you are doing right” (2:8).

            When any of us come upon someone experiencing trouble, we can add insult to injury or we can alleviate suffering. A smile or a kindness can turn misery into bearable. I shopped in Montgomery’s Wal-Mart grocery department before Independence Day. Even the wide aisles were crowded. After rolling down a few aisles, I began to notice how patient and kind the shoppers were to each other. It was an outbreak of contagious good manners. I smiled the rest of my shopping trip, each time someone said, “Pardon me,” or “Excuse me.”

            Statisticians say we’re all cousins. God narrows the family kinships down to brothers and sisters because he calls us children. If someone needs help this steamy summer, put on the cloak of humility as you recall your past similar circumstances. Remember what your mother told you: 

            “Be nice to your sister.”

            “Be nice to your brother.”

            Hunger for Humility (28): “Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? (James2:16-17).

           

If You are Slighted...

Our friend, the late Frank Green, and my husband and I went to a Houston truck show. We found out right away, that Frank didn’t dawdle. He would briefly look at the newest chrome gadgets, tire gauges, and Cheetah bead setters (ask a tire man) and then he would shoo us to next display by saying, “And moving right along.”

            That’s what we’re doing in this column today, we’re “moving right along” to Jeremy Taylor’s rule number eleven for attaining humility. If you’re a regular reader, you know that I’ve devoted the fifty-two columns for 2012 to the subject of humble living. We’re loosely using nineteen rules written by Taylor (1613-1667).  So far, we’ve considered seven of them.

            We’re skipping numbers eight, nine, and ten because they’re repetitive. They give suggestions for keeping a good name, accepting praise, and avoiding power play in conversations. We have discussed those when we looked at the first seven rules. Today, we consider number eleven in the language of Taylor’s day:

            “Make no suppletories to thyself, when thou art disgraced or slighted, by pleasing thyself with supposing thou didest deserve praise, though they understood thee not, or enviously detracted from thee.” The rest of Taylor’s “thee” and “thou” rule states: “[N]either do thou get to thyself a private theatre and flatterers, in whose vain noises and fantastie praises thou mayest keep up thine own good opinion of thyself.”

               You are a bright reading audience and don’t need that explained, but I have article space that needs filling, so here’s the gist. Do not get huffy when others slight you because each of us has slighted others, too. We’ve all experienced times when people talked down to us or shunned our company because they think themselves better, and we’ve done it too. Some folks think they have colossal gray matter and treat supposed pea-brained people disrespectfully.

               It happens. Don’t take offense. Err on the side of grace. So-called pea-brains can experience personal growth if they don’t climb into the arena to spar or gather their posse for a “praise me” session. I know it’s difficult to remain open-minded during a snub or slight. If someone talks down to me, I want to tattletale to my husband. I want an affirmative pat or hug to bandage my bruised ego. I want to lick my wound.

               These wounds and slights can occur between family, acquaintances, or strangers. In interchanges between strangers, no intimate knowledge of the other person exists. The crux of that problem is that neither party knows if the other is having a bad day or a bad life. I have come to the belief that we rarely make fair judgments of others. In fact, when people complain to me about things, I’ve learned to acknowledge their pain and say, “It’s difficult.” But at some time in the conversation, I express that it’s up to God to sort the good, the bad, and the ugly. One scripture reminds me that only God knows every iota of our existence. “[God] knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14). God knows frail when he sees it, and he sees plenty of it in me.  

               God remains the only one who can accurately judge. He alone knows our lovely or horrific upbringings, our failures, our triumphs, our poverties, our privileges, or our handicaps or abilities. He knows the silt and sand that makes up our hearts.

               When a person is slighted, the main thing restraint on their part does is to deliver time for contemplation. If that person does not tattle or seek favor from those closest to them, the incident most likely stays in their mind for a while, but it can turn into teachable moments when God can guide the person to self-contemplation. This week if you’re bumped from the bench of high-and-mighty by someone who is holier-than-thou, take a good look inside your own heart. Ask God for revelation into the depths of your attitudes toward others.

               May Holy God assist us as we “move right along” the path to humility as we recognize that he created all of us in his image to act in his name to carry out his innate goodness. 

               Hunger for Humility (27): “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32).

             

More LIght, Less Noise

When the Civil War began, newspapers gave President Lincoln all kinds of advice. On one such occasion, a New York newspaper correspondent met with Lincoln and proposed yet another plan for conducting the war. For a while, Lincoln listened patiently, and then according to Paul F. Boller, author of “Presidential Anecdotes,” Lincoln told the reporter the following story:

            "Some years ago, there was a gentleman traveling through Kansas on horseback. There were few settlements and no roads and he lost his way. To make matters worse, as night came on, a terrific thunderstorm arose and peals of thunder and flashes of lightning shook the earth and momentarily illuminated the scene. The terrified farmer finally got off his horse and began to lead it along as best he could by the flickering light of the lightning flashes. All of a sudden, a tremendous crash of thunder brought the man to his knees in terror and he cried out: 'Oh Lord! If it's all the same to you, give us a little more light and a little less noise.'" 

            Nearly all have an idea how our government should conduct business, but many among this blessed nation are concerned with only their rights. Clamoring for personal opinions to become law, groups with big and boisterous bandwagons have trumpeted special causes --from saving an endangered toad to aborting a child. 

           

A friend prayed in a public prayer, "Lord, be a light to our path and a lamp to our feet. You didn't promise that we could see all the way to the end of the tunnel, but give us enough light for today." If more of us sought God's guidance for America, perhaps the fireworks would fizzle and the noise level would drop, and we’d see more clearly.

            I find The Presidential Prayer Team’s weekly guidelines both helpful and a reminder to pray for our nation. This organization remains devoted to seeking God's blessing for government officials -- President Obama and others. The Presidential Prayer Team wants to enroll one percent of the U. S. That’s about 2.3 million to commit to pray daily for politicians to step up and lead our nation in godly paths. You can sign up for weekly updates and prayer assignments on their web site: www.presidentialprayerteam.com

            The festive noise on this Independence Day will be a good sound. However, it will die down and the privilege of living, working, and worshiping in freedom can fade into the background of ordinary days. You can be a leader in this nation even though you’ll never rule from the Oval Office. Lincoln's wisdom story offers the key for prayer-leaders, in quiet and humility, to seek our nation's success as we pray for illumination and a God-lighted path.

            Hunger for Humility (26): “God reigns over the nations; God is seated on his holy throne” (Psalm 47:8).

When the Blind Lamb Bleated

“Cheer up! On your feet! He’s Calling You.”

When Jesus left Jericho, a large crowd traveled with him on their way to Jerusalem for the Feast of Passover. Near the outskirts, a blind man, Bartimaeus, sat by the side of the road and begged coins from passersby. His name meant “Son of Honor.” His station in life meant shame and humiliation—his life collapsed in shambles.

By this time in life, Bartimaeus’ ears were his best asset. He heard that Jesus of Nazareth was among this excited and noisy crowd, and his voice became ally to his cause. He shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” However, many in the crowd shushed him with warnings: Don’t bother Jesus. He’s traveling to Passover. Stop your shouting. The lame aren’t welcome. God wants the whole to serve him. Be quiet!

Determined, Bartimaeus shouted louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Bartimaeus had fought the demons of Self Pity and Why Me, too many years to let the crowds’ censorship stop him.

The whole and happy walked with the Shepherd out of Jericho. The discarded sat by the side of the road. A crowd of noises collided around Jesus: shuffling feet, chitchat, donkeys braying, and carts groaning—but Jesus heard the one. So much commotion.  So much clamoring. Jesus halted. There it was again. A blind lamb bleated. Jesus instructed his disciples “Call him.”

Jesus’ compassion became contagious. The crowd did an about face, and they invited the fallen to join the whole, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Bartimaeus threw his cloak aside, jumped to his feet, and groped his way to Jesus. His heart beat rapid. His breaths came in quick succession, and then a question pierced his darkness.  

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Without hesitation, he said, “My Master, I want to see.”    

“Go. Your faith has healed you.” The instant he pledged allegiance, his gained sight, and he saw Jesus. How could he go away, even though Jesus gave permission? His old life held no appeal. That old cloak was gone; Jesus had draped him with a new mantle. He wanted to follow the one who could turn the whims of a crowd, the one who instantly destroyed demons of Blindness, Self-Pity and Why Me.

Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, could now live up to his name. He could follow Jesus, the Light of the World. Perhaps he trekked all the way to Jerusalem. Maybe he was among those who shouted praises to Jesus later that same week.

 Blind “Son of Honor” hadn’t let bad advice stop his journey to Jesus. The crowds enjoyed the merriment of journey, the impending spectacle of Passover lambs, the presence of celebrity Jesus, but wrenching cries of the needy hadn’t fit into their plans-of-the-day. Blind lambs weren’t fit for Passover. Damaged lambs weren’t fit for service.  

More than one healing took place at the roadside that day. Even deluded crowds can be steered when they yield to the altar call of Jesus. The crowd saw humility in action when Jesus stopped his journey for the weakest among them. In addition, the greatest surprise of all, the pause in the journey didn’t water down their numbers. No. It strengthened their cause. One more came into the Jesus witness program.

When nothing-to-offer Bartimaeus threw his cloak aside and fumbled toward the voice of Jesus, he asked that beggar, “What can I do for you?”

Bartimaeus plainly spoke his request, “My master, I want to see.”

The humble Jesus still asks that question today. How will you answer: “What can I do for you?”

Hunger for Humility (25): “My Master, I want to see” (Mark 10:51).

Father's Day-Sam Houston's Redemption

Downstream

             In a sky-towering contest with pine trees, a statue of Sam Houston stands sentinel on I-45 near Huntsville, Texas. It’s 67-feet tall on a 10-foot base. Historians continue to write about this Texas hero, but his spiritual journey, highlighted at Sam Houston State University Web site, teaches lessons, too.

    After re-election as governor of Tennessee in 1829, and separation from his young wife, he “called out to organized religion and it did not answer. He asked to be baptized, twice, and was refused.”

            Today, some still set themselves up as security guards for Christ’s church, to keep the “unworthy” from entering the ranks of the “righteous.” The sanctuary doors slam, the keys to the kingdom jingle on belt loops of the gatekeepers as they walk away from the desperate.

            When Christians start deciding who can come in, then there’s no need for God, Christ, or the Holy Spirit. Jesus, the Great Physician, said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:31, 32). 

            Most people pass through life without notoriety, their good deeds and trip-ups never make it into biographies. However, Houston’s life is an open book. 

            After several failed relationships, Houston wed a woman several decades younger. Margaret Lea bore him eight children, and her faith and presence seemed to contribute to his calmer, later life. A milestone occurred for Margaret Lea and Sam Houston when on “November 19, 1854, at Rocky Creek near Independence, Texas, Houston was baptized.”

            A church periodical reported the announcement of General Houston’s immersion. It “has excited the wonder and surprise of many who have supposed that he was 'past praying for...'"

            Good natured, Houston took the ribbing. Marquis James reported a friend saying to Houston, “Well General, I hear your sins were washed away."

            "I hope so," Houston said, "But if they were all washed away, the Lord help the fish down below."

            Houston had most likely learned that lives have a way of dripping onto future generations. “Trickle-down” is not only a political term. At a recent funeral, I heard grandsons speak of a grandparent’s powerful faith taking residence in their current families.

            May God bless all our faithful dads, and may God cause a change of heart for those in need of life alterations. May the men in our generation remain watchful of the ingredients they pour into the river of life. Happy Father’s Day to all.

            Hunger for Humility (24): “May the Lord direct your hearts into God’s love and Christ’s perseverance” 2 Thessalonians 3:5.

 

Hope of a Good Opinion

Near the beginning of January of this year, I struggled with God. I admit it wasn’t even close to the physical wrestling Jacob encountered with God at the ford of the Jabbok. Nevertheless, it was a struggle. I asked God what I lacked in my life. What could he and I work on this year? What could I do to draw closer to God, who resides near me forever—even when I take a step back from him?  
            The story of Jacob helps explain why I chose “Christ in you the hope of glory,” (Colossians 1:27) as my anchor for this year:
            During Jacob’s sojourn with his mother’s family, he learned a lot about himself. He often saw his past deceit of others mirrored in his father-in-law and his brothers-in-law. Sometimes it just takes a swindler to know one. While there, Jacob gained two wives, two concubines and eleven sons. When he would finally leave to travel back home, he also left with droves of animals.
            On that return trip, God met Jacob at the river ford in the form of an angel. Jacob was on the run from in-laws, on the move toward a brother who had promised to kill him, and on plan to reunite with the dad he’d deceived. What he hadn’t planned upon was a run-in, a skirmish, a wrestling match with God. Guess who won the physical match? God. However, guess who received the blessing? Jacob.
            I’m reading Scarred by Trouble, Transformed by Hope by Benedictine nun and writer Joan Chittister. She speaks of Jacob's s story as a paradigm for a "spirituality of struggle." In Jacob's story, she identifies eight elements of our human struggle—change, isolation, darkness, fear, powerlessness, vulnerability, exhaustion, and scarring. However, Chittister says, God doesn’t leave us there, and in each human struggle a corresponding divine gift becomes available to us—conversion, independence, faith, courage, surrender, limitations, endurance, and transformation.
            The writer of Genesis generously defines the result of Jacob’s struggles, culminating at Jabbok, when he wrote, "God blessed Jacob there" (32:29).
             Propped on my kitchen windowsill, an index card holds the slightly reworded Colossian 1:27: “Christ in [Cathy] the hope of glory.” When I delved a bit further into the study of that verse, I found from W. E. Vine’s Expository Dictionary of New Testament Words that the word, “glory” (doxa) “primarily signifies an opinion, estimate, and honor, the honor resulting from a good opinion.” As you know, I am writing about humility this year. Little did I know how this one verse completely points to humility and hope.
            When Christians worship together, we often confess our Lord through these song lyrics, “My only hope is you, Lord, my only hope is you. Till early in the morning, till late at night my only hope is you.” My anchor scripture has instilled that the only hope I have of a good opinion of self or of presenting God to the world is Christ in me. Isn’t that the lesson Jacob finally learned? God in Jacob caused an ordained plan to unfold. Jacob in Jacob hadn’t turned out so well.
            At my Jabboks when I struggle with God, I’ve found that Cathy in Cathy never works. Conversely, I’ve learned that Christ in Cathy produces hope.
            With half a year to go, I’ve learned that seeking humility caused many struggles and most of them took me to my knees in prayer asking for forgiveness. “My only hope is you, Lord. My only hope is you.”        
              
Question for Readers: What hymn or praise song best describes your relationship or dependence upon God?

Hunger for Humility (22): “I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name” (Ephesians 3:14).
 

Three Good "Nevers"

A wise person told me to avoid using the words “never” and “always” in negative ways when talking to family members. That worthy advice has served me well. Those damaging words “never” and “always” if used in the heat of a word-tussle can inflict harm because they leave no wiggle room for exceptions.

            An angry mom might address a tweener’s failure to put away her wet towels, “You never pick up your towels.” The almost teen has probably put them on the towel rack a few times. If the exception had occurred, that daughter may think poorly of her mom’s word choice. A dad might correct a son’s bad table manners and exaggerate, “You always chew with your mouth open.” You get the drift. If the son had even ONCE chewed with his mouth closed, he’d remember and feel hurt by the overall labeling of him as an open-mouthed muncher.

            Conversely, I read three excellent uses of “never” in the Bible. They astounded me. I’d read them before, but here I am at a different time in life, and they mean more. I love the absolutes that these “nevers” represent: Jesus declared himself the bread of life, and whoever comes to him will “never go hungry,” “never be thirsty,” and he “will never drive them away” (John 6: 35-37).

             The feeding of the 5,000 preceded Jesus speaking these unconditional “nevers.”  A miracle outlined in John 6 (and the three Gospels) reveals the power behind Jesus’ “never” promises: The setting was when Jesus fed 5,000 people (that count didn’t include the women or children). The late afternoon sun glowed. Suppertime neared. Stomachs rumbled and yet, there were too many mouths and not enough food.

            Then, Jesus asked Phillip “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” Philip didn’t have deep pockets, and replied, “Eight months’ wages would not even buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!” (v 5-7). He clearly saw that needs far outreached the resources.

            That’s when the Creator of wheat and all the little fishes in the deep blue sea speeded up processes to bypass the usual seasons of growing and harvesting and baking. God sidestepped around fishing, cleaning, smoking, and drying of seafood. The disciples had found a lad with five meager barley loaves and two small fish, and when Jesus prayed over the skimpy meal, he created fast food that was good for them.

            What a fish story! If kids today eat alphabet soup, the kids that day ate a numerical meal. How can five plus two add up to over 5,000 meals? Pay attention to the crowning glory of that story found in Matthew’s closing remarks, “They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish” (Matthew 14:20). After those leftovers were stored away is when Jesus spoke three “nevers.”

            The supernatural growth of bread and fish displayed God’s power that backed up  all of Jesus’ claims and promises.  Imagine yourself in that crowd with a family of eight to feed. Remember, family chefs, your entire family had eaten supper, and you did no shopping, no cooking, no dishes, no cleanup. Besides that, no whines were uttered, “I don’t like miracle bread and fish,” because “all ate and were satisfied.”

            Then Jesus spoke three breath-taking promises: never hungry, never thirsty, or never driven away. The temporary gift of bread fed the hungry for that day. However, Jesus offered more than casual dining; he offered to feed them for an entire lifetime. He could become to each a lifelong feast instead of a supplement. He wanted the position of chef and life-healer to individuals and nations.   

            Needs often stretch beyond resources. That’s when humble people look to gracious Jesus because he takes care of physical needs and offers soul-deep sustenance. We can’t do it on our own, no matter how much we stress, worry, or try to make things happen. He alone nurtures nations and souls as they trust in his power-backed three “nevers”: never hunger, never thirst, and never driven away (John 6:35-37).

            Comments welcome at www.cathymessecar.com

            Hunger for Humility (22): “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14).

Do You Recycle Compliments?

“I can live two months on a good compliment,” said Mark Twain.

            When very young and I received a compliment, I’d blush to the roots of my natural blond hair. However, I now see that compliments need to move on – not held in store so I can feast upon my supposed “greatness.” Read further to find how compliments should move on.

            As you know, we’re working our way through Jeremy Taylor’s (1613-1667) nineteen rules for humility in this year’s columns. We’re now on the seventh which states in the language of his day: “When thou hast said or done anything for which thou receivest praise or estimation, take it indifferently, and return it to God.” He goes on to recommend “reflecting upon [God] as the giver of the gift, or the blesser of the action, or the aid of the design; and give God thanks for making thee an instrument of his glory, for the benefit of others.”

            Couched within the seventh rule, I find Taylor suggesting that compliments move on and recycle back to God. This week, I’ve spent time considering compliments, and I’ve discovered at least three phases of recycling them. First, compliments help us realize our gifts and potential. Early in life, I found that a friend or colleague might recognize a talent or a personal gift of mine, one of which I wasn’t fully aware. Their compliments helped me to recognize the talent and with God’s help to nurture that talent beyond the bud stage.

            As I look back over my life, I remember those who encouraged my writing. I specifically remember a high school English teacher, who asked permission to keep one of my assignments to share in future years with her classes. We were to write an epitaph for one of the fictional characters from the classic literature we’d studied that year. My teacher gave us the option of a one-page epitaph. I chose the book “Silas Marner,” by George Elliot and wrote about the book’s namesake. I received direction from that early praise, but I didn’t know to give it back to God.  

            Second, as we age and learn about humility, that learning doesn’t mean we know to recycle an accolade back to God. I knew in my heart, when someone praised something I’d done, that an expressed admiration didn’t solely belong to me, but I wasn’t making a practice of giving the praise back to God and thanking him. I knew that nothing I did or would ever accomplish came from my efforts alone. I had nothing to do with my birth, body, or makeup—mind, personality, or talents. At this stage, when someone congratulated me on an accomplishment, I’d stammer and mumble something about the Lord’s help, then I’d secretly file the approval, and when life turned sour, I’d drag out the compliment and gnaw on it like an old bone.

            Third, when humility roots and rules, it’s easier to receive compliments. At times, we know that giving God public praise is the thing to do. I love to see public praise on  television when a hero saves someone from tragedy and they choose to give God the praise for their courage or quick thinking.

            A simple “Thank you” will do after receiving a compliment. If a compliment comes from a fellow Jesus follower, they know the gift isn’t yours to claim. The receiving of a compliment becomes less stressful or embarrassing when one can recycle the compliment back to God at the very moment received or at the end of the day during quiet vespers.

            Our Creator assembled each unique person and designed a specific path for each to follow. In our hearts, when we turn praises back into our Father’s keeping, we perform a private act of humility. For everything we are or have comes from God.

            He is the Creator.

            He is the Composer.

            He arranges the music.

            We are instruments.

            Hunger for Humility (21): “How can you believe if you accept praise from one another, yet make no effort to obtain the praise that comes from the only God?” (John 5:44)

            Comments welcome at www.cathymessecar.com