Jealousy--a monster

If you haven't read "The Green-Eyed Monster," a Berenstain Bears book, get to your library asap. It's a children's book, a fun read, and makes sense... like all Berenstain books.

Jealousy existed since Eve took the bite from the apple. Cain killed his brother, Abel, because he was jealous of his brother's sacrifice before God.

Some believe there are really only two emotions: fear and love. If this is so, we know without much thought under which category jealousy falls. Insecurity, anxiety, anger, resentment, and bitterness all rush in to create a not-so-nice you: a monster or, at least, a potential one.

We've all experienced it whether it be a relationship issue, ownership issue, or position desired. Jealousy Monster rears its ugly head often and at times that even surprise us. How do we rid ourselves of it? .... by remembering that we were each uniquely created in His image, redeemed by His blood, and with a purpose He has planned for each of us.


...God has saved us and called us to a holy life--not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace.        2 Timothy 1:9

... it's the season of gifts and giving.

Don't compare what you have or what you may get.

Your honor comes from God.

A Savior Is Born--For You.

Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in clothes and lying in a manger. Luke 2:11-12

 It all happened in a moment, a most remarkable moment that was like none other.  ...God became a man. While the creatures of earth walked unaware, Divinity arrived. Heaven opened herself and placed her most precious one in a human womb. God as a fetus. Holiness sleeping in a womb. The creator of life being created. God was given eyebrows, elbows, two kidneys, and a spleen. He stretched against the walls and floated in the amniotic fluids of his mother. God had come near.  ...To think of Jesus in such a light is--well, it seems almost irreverent, doesn't it?  ...But don't do it. Let him be as human as he intended to be. Let him walk into the mire and much of our world. For only if we let him in can he pull us out. (as written by Max Lucado in Celebrating Christmas With Jesus)

...because Jesus came we have hope...

Merry Christmas

Mary's Trip to Bethlehem

A little over 2000 years ago, a very pregnant Mary was riding a donkey on her way to Bethlehem--the city of David. Bethlehem was the place where God first's appointed earthly king was born and raised as a shepherd boy 1000 years before Mary took her journey.

Because Mary and Joseph were both of the lineage of David, they made this trip to take part in a census as was the law during the time.

We know the story: they ended up in a stable because there was no room in the inn. A stable with noisy and smelly animals. A stable where the Christ child was born. Can you imagine Mary's thoughts? Gabriel had told her she would give birth to a son, that his name would be Jesus. He would be called the Son of the Most High; his kingdom would never end. Talk about over-whelming. And, here she was under the stars pondering all this.

Listen to the song, "Mary Did You Know"... just google it. It will help you understand the magnitude of all this: Jesus' birth!

2000 years later, here we are. It's our story, too, because we are all of the family of Christ.

Some stories are told. Some stories are told through other people's stories. Some stories are left untold. Tell your story. Tell what it means to believe in Christmas.

Growing Older...

I don't consider myself old; however, I do receive Social Security, Medicare Benefits, and am a grandma. So, if I am not old now, I'm headed in that direction with no U-turns, detours, or STOP signs ahead.

I've watched our parents grow old, get sick, and die. It's inevitable: everything that lives, dies. There are invisible walls that surface as we age: can't go there, don't do that, not safe anymore--things we won't be able to do, places we won't be able to go because we are not what we used to be.

When I was around 14 years old, I walked our quarter mile lane in the dark of night, plopped myself in the soft ditch grass, and allowed the heavens to saturate my space. Awed, I knew that the world had possibilities, and they were infinite. Now, the slivers of open spaces are narrowing. I ride an exercise bike instead of walking due to arthritis in my foot. I can't eat just anything I want unless I want a tummy-ache. Technology drives the world, but I sometimes can't figure out how to solve a simple tech glitch. I at times feel inconsequential at a meeting or a gathering--thinking that I have nothing to offer. I understand how my parents felt when I start to feel that I can not relate to trendy music, movies, or clothing. Eccentric, I may become.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his "Letters and Papers from Prison," 1953, wrote "Time is the most precious gift in our possession. ...Time lost is when we have not lived a full human life, time unenriched by experience, creative endeavor, enjoyment, and suffering. Time lost is time we have not filled...."

So what? I can honor and show love for our Creator God by living life to my fullest and completing the purpose He intended for me. If I don't know what it is, I get down on my knees. He'll let me know.

What do you call God?

The story of David as told in 1 Samuel through 1 Kings and including his songs of praise and prayers in the Psalms are probably the lengthiest narrative in history of a human life and how it evolved. He was the son of Jesse, a shepherd boy, with many brothers, who ended up King of Israel over 1000 years before the birth of Christ. He has been called a man after God's own heart because he trusted God, he believed in God.

In Psalm 62, David calls God my fortress, my rock, my salvation, my mighty rock, my refuge. In the Bible, God has been called by many names, including Most High, Lord, Jehovah, Covenant Maker, I AM, the Word, Master, my Shepherd, Our Righteousness, Everlasting Father.

One of my friends starts her prayers often with the praise,

 "Creator God...."

What do you call God when you call upon him?

 How about, My Everything.

Wishes or Bellyaches?

I wish he wouldn't do that.
 I wish I had a better coat.
I wish I had more friends.
 I wish I had more respect from my co-workers.
It goes on and on and on. . . .

What does bellyaching have to do with wishes? Or better yet, when is a wish not really a wish but a complaint (bellyaching)?

I thought "quit bellyaching" was an expression used only by grandpas and great uncles; however, when I googled it, I found it is more common than I thought.

                                

Do all things without grumbling or questioning.         Philippians 2:14        
              

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.         Ephesians 4:29

Need I say more?

Left To Tell

There was a divider in the middle of the room--not soundproof and a little tipsy if you bumped it just right. I could hear everything on the other side; she could hear everything on my side. I had to be careful. I was working with behavior disordered students--sometimes loud and rambunctious. It was 1994, and I shared a classroom with a fellow teacher.

It was 1994, Immaculee IIibagiza lived in a small bathroom with a toilet, a shower, and six other women who could not speak to each other for fear of being heard or could not leave for fear of being killed. Outside, Hutu warriors--armed with machetes and swords--raped, mutilated, and brutally murdered. Immaculee lived in this little bathroom with her father's rosary in her hands for three months. She lost half of her body weight and was covered with sores when she fled in the middle of the night to another sanctuary.

As I read LEFT TO TELL, I asked myself, how could I not know about this?  Millions of Tutsis were murdered in what was called an ethnic cleansing in Rwanda. I am careful about recommending the book, as there were times I wanted to put it down and not finish; however, there are also miracles in the book. Imaculee was "left to tell," and because she was left to tell, we can learn from her story of survival. Not only did she survive, she forgave the Hutu warriors (some of them former neighbors and friends) who had brutally murdered much of her family and friends.


If you're thinking this happened in Africa--another continent--worlds away, with a culture we do not understand, I want to tell you that Immaculee had a college education as did all of her brothers and parents. They owned a nice home (by a lake), a car, and a motorcycle. They went to church every Sunday.... need I say more?

I sometimes wonder what our responsibility really is to those who live in other countries--those living in poverty, those being persecuted by others, etc. I don't have an answer for this, other than to pray for direction, to pray for guidance.

... on another note, if you're having difficulty forgiving someone in your life, think of Immaculee, or read the book and you'll start to understand how insignificant, perhaps, your reasons not to forgive may be. You'll also understand the freedom you will feel when you finally can forgive.


Immaculee currently works for the United Nations in New York City.

Solitude

A lack of  contact with people is solitude. One of the effects is freedom--your choices are less likely to be affected by exchanges with others. Creativity and contemplation are possible.

If you were a Black-Friday shopper, you are over-due for a little solitude--crowds, noises, no room for contemplation here.

Entering a sports bar on a Sunday evening, we over-heard conversations, music, and at least fifteen different television sets with various games and sitcoms. One was situated at each booth with several super-large screens placed high on the walls.

In our homes, we have television--some of us, 24/7-- where actors or talk-show participants enjoy interrupting each other. Movies provide action-packed shoot-outs, accidents, and scenes with complementary NOISE.

Phones blurp or sing to let us know of calls and text messages; computers do likewise. Depending on your work place--noises vary from ear-plug demanding sounds to constant chatter as cubicle offices are lined up for long stretches. Games? Concerts? Does anyone think all this noise is a bit over-done?

When is the last time you heard the gurgle of a brook, the rush of the wind through the trees? Have you recently heard the tick-tock of a clock? If it were quiet enough, could we hear the snow fall?

Solitude
Saturated with quiet
And comfortable in my skin
I'm down to earth
Above the clouds
And somewhere in between
I'm content.

Be still and know....                  

It Only Takes One....

"They built a siege ramp up to the city... while they were battering the wall to bring it down, a wise woman called . . .

 Listen! Listen! ...

You are trying to destroy a city

that is a mother in Israel. Why ...?  

Due to one woman's wisdom, foresight, and courage, an entire city was spared. She became more than a spectator, stepped forward, and made a plan. We do not know her name, and, yet, her story has been recorded in forever history.

Have a Bible?

Check out the whole story. 
 2 Samuel 20:14-21.

Consider Rahab who hid spies, Ruth who stayed loyal to her mother-in-law, Mary the mother of Jesus, the unknown woman with the alabaster jar who poured perfume on Jesus' head, Dorcas, a disciple, who did good and helped the poor. Lydia, a dealer in purple, known for her hospitality and her belief.

Each of these did not need a following, a group/committee/organization, to do what they felt needed to be done.

How often have I NOT done something because I thought, I am only one. I can not make a difference.

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity,

 but a spirit of power,

of love and of self-discipline.   

 2 Timothy 1:3

 Reach out.
Love God.
Love your fellow man... tis the season...

 It only takes one.

Extravagant? Perhaps so....

One doesn't have to be wealthy to be extravagant....

During breakfast, I flipped on TV to see "Beautiful Homes and Great Estates." I was fascinated and appalled. The master bedroom had more square feet than our entire house. Shoes, clothing, and jewelry filled room-size closets. I considered that, even though I was "fascinated," I could not live comfortably in such a house with multiple fireplaces, bathrooms, and waterfalls.
At times, I've considered myself frugal, a minimalist knowing that things do not bring me happiness. However, I looked at my breakfast and reconsidered the word extravagant.
My meal contained eight different items: coffee, grapes, carrots, salmon, multi-grain bread, almond butter, kale, and oatmeal (with wheat germ, flax, cinnamon, dried blueberries, walnuts) topped with almond milk--which brings the total to 14 different food items.

Excessive? Extravagant? Seemingly so when there are persons who eat rice three times a day. And, we're not talking "Survivor."

Still curious about my frugal life, I counted the number of items used in my getting-ready-for-the-day routine. Let's see, there was toothpaste, floss, mouth wash, shampoo, conditioner, moisturizer, body lotion. Okay... I'm forgetting the makeup today.

Something to consider-- Jesus tells us to care for widows, orphans, the poor. Although my food items are keeping me healthy and my getting-ready-for-the-day items are keeping me easier to look at and be with, I need to re-consider how I use my resources.

It's Thanksgiving week. Let us each be thankful for our many blessings and with joy give to others freely who are in need. .... and always, always give praise and glory to our Creator God, the greatest giver of all times.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Self-Portrait

"The Lutheran Message" is a little magazine published in Woodbury, MN. It is provided free to Lutheran churches throughout the United States. I recently submitted a poem; they accepted it for publication (see page 9) and sent me a check. This is the first time I have been paid for a poem! I was delighted, of course, and want to share the poem with you.... and the glory belongs to God.

Self-Portrait

Falling short,
Breaking hearts,
Switching loyalties,
Agonizing resignation
Written deep inside.
Humanity struggles
Separated from creator.
Try harder!
Perfection?
Not possible,
Until I realize
The priceless gift:
Unconditional love
Through grace.
Self portrait?
Flawed and worthy.

Upside Down?

While in an Einstein's Coffee shop, Houston, TX, I picked up "LIVING," a lightweight magazine with features titled Dying for a New Look, Artist Remakes a Traditional Home . . .,  and Is Bariatric Surgery Right For You? 

In the midst of all these "features," the article Upside Down World appeared with 1 Samuel 16:7--...the Lord doesn't see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

This particular article seemed a contradiction to the others...

The writer, Michelle Wallace, expressed that the kingdoms of the world seem to operate in contrast to the kingdom of God. Jesus said the way up is down--to be great, we wash feet; humility lifts us; God graces the humble and opposes the proud.

I gazed out the window: skyscrapers, high-rise condos, specialty shops galore and wondered what God thought when he looked down on all this. Some believe God has a sense of humor. I hope he uses it often.

The Perfect Day

Arising at 5:45, I pull on a pair of sweat pants and shirt, grab a jacket, wheel my bike out of the garage, and head for the street. Above me, the moon is blood-red with a yellow banana snuggled at its side; the stars are close enough to touch. My skin tingles with the touch of early morning air.

After a short-but-sweet mile ride, I head in for oatmeal and salmon and open Beth Moore's Bible study on David. Later, with brownies in the oven and the smell of chocolate drifting about the kitchen, I play a game of pool with my husband, converse lightly over lunch, and then snuggle together while considering a nap.


Regenerated, I swim a half hour with a friend, and, then, head home to prepare grilled hamburgers and mashed potatoes for two energetic grandchildren (and their mother).

Life is good...
all little things, but so much joy.

A cheerful heart is good  medicine,

but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

Proverbs 17:22

Shadows....

Shadows

When you think of shadows, 
   what are your thoughts?

Phantoms, alternated forms, darkness, and words like gloom and unhappiness arise if it is a day when your glass is half full.





It's that time of the year.  The weather turns cool.  Jack-o-lanterns, scare-crows, wispy ghost figures, and frightening masks fill the store shelves and your neighbors' front porches.

Children anticipate Halloween.

On Trick-or-Treat night, shadows lurk everywhere...  Most of them dressed in costumes and carrying candy buckets.  

When I was little and alone, shadows scared me.  With the moon creeping through an upstairs window at night and tree branches scratching the outside walls of the house, goosebumps spread on my arms and legs as the shadows scattered across my bedroom floor. 

Shadows gave rise to thoughts of other creatures.  None of them warm and fuzzy.

I had a night-time ritual.  Getting down on my hands and knees, I would flip back the chenille bedspread to watch the dust bunnies scatter.  Determining it was safe under the bed, I would go to the closet.  Taking a deep breath, I would grasp the handle, turn it quietly, and then whip the door open.  Checking all the corners and shelves and finding nothing, I re-closed the door tightly so nothing could get out.

I outgrew this ritual--thankfully.

However, shadows of a different nature pursued me as I journeyed life.

worry

doubt

disappointment

sickness

loneliness

resentment

rejection

guilt

     We live in a fear-based world, a world where bad news travels at light speed and good news doesn't. . . . These are troubled times, times when we have legitimate fears for the future, our nation, our world, and our families.... (Day 165, 365 Daily Devotions for Women)

Tribulation

without trust in an almighty God

separates us

from Him.

...but as Christians we have every reason to live courageously.

Keep your face always toward the sunshine. . . and shadows will fall behind you.  Walt Whitman

On another day, perhaps a day filled with joy moments, you may think of a shadow as a reflected image or an inseparable companion or follower.

Consider another definition--

   --an area where direct light from a light source can not reach due to obstruction by an object . . . at certain times of day, the lengths of shadows change. 

Can we be the "obstruction" to God's light desiring to shine on  us?  Are there times when we allow our shadows to lengthen? 

It is easy to become so wrapped up in our shadows that we fail to seek God's guidance and therefore miss out on the peace that comes only from God.

I have set before you

life and death,

blessing and curse.

Choose life . . .

and remain faithful

to Him.

Deut. 30:19

Say goodbye to your shadows, 
whatever they may be.

Decide to trust.

Let go and let God.

Dear God,

May I reflect your image.  May I be your inseparable companion and follower.  May I never let the shadows in my life separate me from your grace and eternal promise.  
Amen

After all, the ultimate battle has already been fought and won on that faraway cross at Calvary.  (365 Daily Devotions) 

Wishing you fall joy.

Happy Birthday

It's my birthday today, and I went to a funeral.
Although one might think there are better things to do on one's birthday, I have to disagree (at least for today).
We celebrate birthdays because we are celebrating life--another year to remember, another year to look forward to. Is it any different in death? .... memories galore and eternal life to look forward to.
Funerals have always helped me re-establish my priorities.
I find myself asking, why am I getting all tied up in knots over the little things in life when there is more ....
More of what, you may ask.
Think about what brings you peace and contentment, these are "more" things. It may be different for each of us, but we each do know what gives us a sense of what is good in life.
A dear friend gave me a plaque after my father's death. It reads...

Our family is a circle of strength and love;

founded on faith; joined in love;

 kept by God; forever together.

It could read.... My friends are a circle of strength and love; founded on faith; joined in love; kept by God; forever together.

Love God.
Love your brother.
Love your fellow man.

What If?

What if you lived your life in complete abandonment*, what would that look like for you?

*The word "abandonment" is not often used except in the case of neglect, casting away, leaving or deserting. The definition I believe the questioner desired was -- to yield oneself without restraint or moderation, to give oneself over to natural impulses.

The question intrigued me. What if? My first visions were of me walking along a sandy beach, waves tossed lightly about by the wind, and the sound of string instruments floating near by. It was lunch time. Grilled fish, fresh fruits and vegetables were waiting along with some delectable dark chocolate concoction. I would eat seaside--of course.

Next, I pictured myself visiting friends afar--Arizona, Colorado, California; my brother in New Mexico. I would attend a writer's conference or several. I would get a massage once a week, swim twice a week... and more...

But reality kicked in and I realized that if I did ALL this, my world-as-I-know-it now would probably collapse and, then, I'd have to deal with that. Not a good picture.

So, I scrapped the pretending until my mind fiddled a bit more with this idea of living in complete abandonment. Okay, I can't seem to get swimming in twice a week, but I will squeeze it in whenever I can and not feel badly because I have no routine with my exercise. I can start wearing funky clothes if I really want to. After all, family and friends will get used to it.

Yes, I can do some of these things. But, in my heart-of-hearts, I know that none of this matters unless I'm connected to our Creator God who has a plan for each of us. Just maybe living in complete abandonment would mean shouting out praises of joy wherever you are and whenever you feel like it.

 I leave you with the verse from Jeremiah 29:
 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

Pray. Give praise. Always. Amen.

Different? How so....

 

What do a homeless person from the streets of Fort Worth and an upscale art dealer have in common? Like non-fiction? I recommend the book, Same Kind of Different as Me.
If you want to change your life, go out and meet someone new. Get outside that tiny box, called self, you've been hibernating in and move. Move towards the one who needs someone like you to be a part of his or her life.

Scary? Perhaps.

Easy? Probably not.

Why? Why not?

Through the encouragement of his wife, Ron Hall, steps outside his comfort zone in the world of art, and starts feeding the homeless in inner city Fort Worth. He meets a homeless man, Denver, and his world evolves in ways he could never have imagined.

A book editor once told me that I seem to want to write about the "messiness" of life. Well, think about it. It's out there. All over, wherever we go. We See In a Mirror Dimly is about mental illness. The Secret Is is about poverty and learning disabilities. All the Rivers Run Into the Sea is about dysfunctional relationships,Thou Shalt Not is about murder and more. Do Not Be Deceived is about family abuse and poverty.

The Same Kind of Different as Me, caused me to think about those who are often neglected and even scorned because of poverty and the unknown reasons they arrived at this state in their lives. It caused me to think about death, why we are here, and how I may go forward in my own life in a more purposeful way.

Different? We each are capable of hate, fear, frustration, disappointment, and, yes, even, love. We all yearn for something greater than ourselves, a place where there is no hate, fear, frustration, disappointment. A place where there is only love. Are we really so different from each other?

Love God.
Love your fellow man.

 

He is the God of mighty angels.

He is a friend of mine.


It's a Small World

When we use the phrase, "It's a small world...," we usually mean that we have come in contact with someone we know in an unexpected place. Or, we meet someone new who knows someone we already know.


Recently, I have thought of
"It's a small world" in another context.

While flying home from Houston, TX, I visited with my two seat partners. Norma, a grandmother, was flying to Minneapolis to meet her daughter. Norma came to American in 2007 from Liberia "to flee war and disease."

Max, a young man from Nigeria, was flying to Minneapolis for a bachelor party for his best buddy. Max, a student, played football for a small college in the Midwest.

I grew up on a farm in the Midwest in the 1950-60s--miles from everything--except neighboring farmers. We did not meet persons of a different race, color, language, or even dialect. As a child, I was not even aware of this--except for the Sunday School pamphlet proclaiming "Jesus loves the little children of the world" and showing yellow, red, black and white ... "we are precious in his sight."

As I child, if someone would have told me... someday you will fly in an airplane and sit with two people from Africa, I would have been speechless.

What does this have to do with anything?
I'm not sure...
I do know that I have a bit of an itch to reach out to others-- those persons from my past I haven't seen in a long time and those persons I have yet to meet.

We are all connected in some great, universal way.
We are one in the spirit; we are one in the Lord.
Someday, we will understand what we need to understand.
Meanwhile--
Love God.
Love one another.

Need a good read? Same Kind of Different as Me... by Ron Hall and Denver Moore

Saying Goodbye?

Carl, son of August and Hulda, left us for another place. Some of us call this place heaven--although we can't be sure as none of us have been there. At 99 years of age, he was eager to go and had been for some time. Although I have no desire for him to return to this place called Earth, I miss him. I see him walking amongst the heavenly cornfields, watching the animals graze green pastures and seeking heavenly opportunities. He was always a purposeful man.



When reading sympathy cards, I treasured certain phrases meant specifically for Carl--

 

 *I  really liked your dad! So kind, warm and friendly. His welcoming smile and humbleness made him many friends.

 

*It's hard to lose a parent, no matter how old you are. I've never known a more Christian gentleman than Carl.

 

* Your father was one of the most special people....

 *It was a pleasure to have known Carl and witness his deep Christian faith. He was a very special man.

 

 

Although Carl was a community and church leader, although he had earned the Bronze Medal and Silver Star in World War II, although he had donated time and money to various community and world-wide projects, none of this was important any more. The fact that he was kind, humble, and that he believed in God was.

 

I'm not going to say goodbye.

He's still with me because I am his child. Who he was and what he believed will always be a part of me.

 

Another sympathy card reads...

 

... with all the beauties of seasons past, look softly with the eyes of love and listen with your heart...your loved one will be there.

Thanks be to God.



3 a.m.

3 a.m.

God’s telling me to get up, get out of bed.

The breeze from my window tells me it’s cool; I like it....

I turn the thermostat up on the mattress cover and snuggle under.

 

3:30 a.m.

Surely not—even God has no reason for me to be up at this hour. I say a few prayers—for our children, grandchildren, my husband, others I love and think about so often, and the world.The world?  —how can I make a difference.

I punch play on the CD player and hope for the drifting, dreamy music the CD Lifescapes promises.

4:15 a.m.
I whip the covers back, do a few stretches, and head to the bathroom.

Slipping on work-out clothes, I set out the vacuum (to be done later in the day), assemble breakfast items (I’m a big breakfast eater), go through some mail while something nibbles at my mind. . . There’s more, there’s more.

5 a.m.
The patio chimes gently call. Come out. Come out.  I pull a jacket from the closet and slip outside. The air is crisp cool. Tree leaves dance in an early morning ritual, some of them bouncing down the street. I look up. Mr. Moon, a yellow banana hung in a still-night sky, is there just for me. Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Venus. I drink it in.

 Genesis 1:1

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...

..early morning? ... late night?  ... take time to give praise

 

 

Walter Wangerin's book, THE BOOK OF GOD

I don’t often want to turn around and read a book again.

This one, I do.

THE BOOK OF GOD

The Bible as a Novel

Walter Wangerin, Jr.

How many times have you read the Bible—all of it? Once? Twice? Never? Whatever your answer, THE BOOK OF GOD by Walter Wangerin, Jr., is an outstanding read. As I read its 850 pages, the historical and biblical figures and places came alive. I felt like I was there—watching things happen. I smiled, I felt pain, I viewed holiness in a deeper way.

The 66 books of the Bible were written by 40 authors—kings, princes, poets, philosophers, prophets, statesmen, fisherman—over a period of 1600 years. Wangerin, an award winning author, helps the reader understand what it is like to be caught up in these events and how the eternal God reached out and impacted ordinary men and women.

**********

The Bible is ageless and yet a living word.

It is old and yet ever new...

... have you ever read a verse several times...

and then on a particular day and time...

a whole new meaning is revealed to you...?

We are called to love his word and live his word.

Why am I here?

Where am I going?

What is the purpose of all this?

It is possible that by loving his word and

living his word that some of these questions

can be answered.

***********

Dr. Billy Graham wrote... One of the greatest tragedies today is that, although the Bible is an available, open book, it is a closed book to millions--either because they leave it unread or because they read it without applying its teachings to themselves.

Interesting Bible facts/thoughts:

*If you think the Old Testament and New Testament are not really related, please know that the book of Hebrews quotes the O.T. 85 times. Revelation quotes the O.T. 245 times. Jesus quotes from 22 O.T.books--19 times in Matthew, 15 times in Mark, 25 times in Luke, 11 times in John.

*Longest verse in the Bible is Esther 8:9. Shortest verse is John 11:35.

*Genesis begins with God and creation and ends "in a coffin."

*There are two genealogies given for Christ--one in Matthew; one in Luke. They are not alike. Why? They trace the descent of Christ for different reasons. Matthew wanted to show that Jesus was a Jew. Luke wanted to show that He belonged to the human race.

*The Bible's one main theme is REDEMPTION.

************

How many times have you read the Bible? __ once, __ twice, ___ never?

A good start might be Wangerin's book....

However, don't miss out on the opportunity

to plant the Word in your heart

on this life-long journey with God

by reading the Bible...

all of it...

___ once, ___twice, ___ and more....

Wishing you blessings on your journey.

A Childhood Memory and Perceptions

 

No Supper Tonight

 

With empty tummies, we climbed the chipped

linoleum steps. At the top of the stairs,

Mom gave our backsides a slight shove and stated,

“Get into bed; there will be no supper tonight.”

 

I spotted the picture of my brother and me as we
passed the bookshelf in the hallway,
and I wondered how things had gone so wrong.

 

 

In our bedroom, I ventured to the window; the sun was shining behind our big red barn. I stretched to catch a glimpse of the damaged fences, but it had happened on the other side of the barn.

 

I crawled into bed with my clothes on.

I was sweaty and my hands were dirty.

My jammies were downstairs in the bathroom....

hanging on my special hook.

I had never gone to bed in my clothes before.

Should I take my socks off?

Brother stared at me from his bed.  It was summer, but his covers were pulled up to his chin. We had nothing to say to each other.  I felt isolated from the world.  I tried closing my eyes.

Slowly, the room darkened as the sun did its evening thing, and there was a knock on the door. Dad came in with a tray: saltine crackers and two glasses of milk. He sat on the edge of the bed and helped us drink the milk. We had never had milk in bed before. He helped us with our prayers, said nothing about the day’s events, patted us on the head, and left the room. I felt a little better.


 

What had we done?

Big brother, at five, decided to show me, his younger sister by thirteen months, how to drive the farm tractor. He pulled me up and showed me where to stand as he sat on the iron seat, stretched to shove in the clutch, and worked the throttle with his fingers.  Dad’s Oliver rumbled and came to life. Our excitement grew.

 

As he released the clutch, the tractor catapulted across the farmyard. Chickens squawked, and the family dogs started barking.  My tiny fingers clutched the wheel well and the back of the tractor seat as we bounced along.  We hit a rut or two, and the monster took a different direction and headed straight for our massive barn.



Fences were flattened, and the barnyard cows kicked up their heels and fled to the corn fields as we blasted into the side of the barn and jolted to a stop—the tractor silenced.

My mother ran from the house screaming --apron strings flying.

Dad scrambled from the tool shed and  carefully lifted us down.

In a frenzy, Mother scurried us to the house making unintelligible sounds.  I’m not sure what the hurry was. Although speechless, we both could walk and apparently were uninjured.

Interestingly enough, the most vivid memory was going to bed with no supper. It hadn’t happened before. It never happened again.

 

Mom took this picture weeks later.

Notice who is in the driver's seat!



 



Perceptions

 

 

          My empty tummy, my parent's unusual behavior and feeling alone were my child-like perceptions.

          Looking back, my parents' perceptions were extremely different: fear of losing one or more children in a horrible accident.

          We view the world and situations differently as we age. Our perceptions change. Some of us mellow; some of us become more anxious. Does wisdom come with age?

          I'm relieved that as a child my memories were of an empty tummy and not the fear of death at age three.

          Life passes so quickly. I was reminded of this in church this morning. One of the pastor's sons had returned from over-seas. I remembered him as  fresh-faced little boy when they arrived as a family a couple of decades ago. Now, he is tall, whiskered, and visits with the other members of our church--adult to adult. Yesterday's couples with high-school aged children are now the revered members who stay seated throughout the service--the getting up and down being too difficult for their aging bodies.
          Someone said, "The only thing we can be sure of is change."
          Change is inevitable.
          But there is something that does not change and that is God's unconditional and unfailing love for each of us.
           Although we are directed by God to have a child-like faith, our perceptions of ourselves and our faith need to mature as we are the living image of God in His kingdom. We have responsibilities because of who we are.  Through study of his Word, loving your neighbor, God will reveal His love to us more each day.

This is a blessing.

 

 

May your perceptions

of the almighty God

and his love for you

bring you joy and peace.