Perpetual Thanksgiving

"I am grateful for what I am and have. My Thanksgiving is perpetual." ~ Henry David Thoreau

We stayed home from church today. The Virus and all. We're already on our second church service, this one my home church. The pastor is doing an activity with the children asking them to say what they are thankful for based off of the acronym GRACE. I'm playing along here:

G = God, grace, goodness, graciousness

R = rest, road trips, root beer, Reynolds family, Rittenhouse family

A = Aastrup family, apples, America, apple pie, abilities,

C = cats, compassion, company, contentment, cookies, courage, Christmas, church

E = education, energy, encouragement, everlasting life, eternity,

One of the things I'm thankful about getting older is that I am more and more content with less and less. I am less critical of, and more patient with, myself and others. I am less demanding and more understanding of myself and others as well.

I am definitely grateful for all those who have journeyed with me, whether for a few steps, for the long haul, and for any amount of time in between.

Because I'm Free

Western Bluebird * South Rim * Grand Canyon

I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free,

for His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

One of the songs on continuous loop in my head last week is truly an oldie but goody. Written more than 100 years ago, "His Eye is on the Sparrow" has been a source of encouragement to me during the stresses and strains of life many times over, but especially recently. Inspiration for the hymn came when Civilla Martin and her doctor husband visited Elmira, NY in the spring of 1905. There, they met and developed a friendship with a couple, Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle. The husband was a cripple who took himself to work in a wheel chair. The wife had been bedridden for nearly 20 years. And yet despite these trials and tribulations, they were supremely happy Christians who were an inspiration to their friends.

One day while the Martins were visiting, Dr. Martin asked what was the secret to their hopeful optimism. Mrs. Doolittle's response revealed her great dependence on God and the comfort she and her husband drew from Him: "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."  "The beauty of this simple expression of boundless faith gripped the hearts and fired the imagination of Dr. Martin and me," says Mrs. Martin. The hymn was born out of this experience. The next day she mailed the poem to Charles Gabriel, who supplied the music. Singer Ethel Waters so loved this song that she used its name as the title for her autobiography. The Biblical passages the verses draw on come from Matthew 6 and Matthew 10:

Matthew Chapter 6:26

Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?

Chapter 10:29-31:

29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.  30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows. 

As I read about this song's history, I was even more inspired. My troubles may seem huge to me in the moment, but when I step back and put them in perspective, never mind put them in God's hands, they become very manageable:

Why should I feel discouraged?

Why should the shadows come?

Why should my heart be lonely

and long for heaven and home?

When Jesus is my portion?

My constant friend is he:

His eye is on the sparrow,

and I know he watches me.

Refrain:

I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free,

for his eye is on the sparrow,

and I know he watches me

"Let not your heart be troubled,"

his tender word I hear,

and resting on his goodness,

I lose my doubts and fears;

though by the path he leadeth

but one step I may see:

His eye is on the sparrow,

and I know he watches me.

Whenever I am tempted,

whenever clouds arise,

when song gives place to sighing,

when hope within me dies;

I draw the closer to him,

from care he sets me free:

His eye is on the sparrow,

and I know he watches me.

The part of the refrain that is most wonderful to me is the line that says "I sing because I'm free."  I read a devotional last week about knowing the Truth and "the Truth shall set you free."  That's the wonder of it all, that our God—the Truth—loves us so much, that He truly will set us free from all that worries or troubles us. Knowing this, why don't we sing more often?  Knowing this, why don't we shout it from the rooftop?  Knowing this, why are we ever discouraged?  His eye is on the sparrow. And I know He watches me. What do you know?

Multi-tasking a Catastrophe?!

It seems our cat Sophie is concerned that we are trying to do too many things at once.  Today, she apparently thought I shouldn't be trying to record scores in Jupiter at the same time I'm watching not one, but two webinars!  Here's her solution, at least in part (at left).  Of course she didn't realize that she was only adding to my distractions  instead of decreasing them :)  So it goes in my Life in the Time of Corona!

So Live, That . . .

“Every year the two most important days of your life go by.

One is your birth day. The other is your death day.

The one you know, and celebrate.

The other passes unbeknownst to you or anyone else.”

~ Mark Twain

Ten years ago, I attended a memorial service for a friend I'd known for some two dozen years. She was a major figure in the international classical music world, a member of the Boston Symphony Orchestra for 30 years, a highly respected violin teacher, and a much beloved wife, mother, mentor, and friend. She passed away after a seven-year battle with cancer. A life-long Christian Scientist, she had a profound relationship with God that eclipsed that of many a professed Christian. 

The memorial service was held in Jordan Hall at the New England Conservatory of Music. Dozens of musicians from all facets of her life presented a nearly three-hour long concert in tribute to their mentor, teacher, colleague, and friend. In between the musical pieces, friends, fellow musicians, and former teachers shared their memories of this amazing woman. As I sat there listening, I heard over and over mention of a life lived with passion and joy. All talked about her calling as a teacher, about the profound influence she had on their and others' lives, both musical and personal.  I can't say I was jealous of all that was being said, but I certainly was inspired. My friend lived her life in the moment, and for the moment.  She knew that each moment mattered, and she made certain it mattered for all she spent time with. She knew, in the end, that God's love made all the difference in the world, and she made sure to let everyone else know that too. It was amazing, in that mostly secular setting, to hear person after person talk about God's love as it shone through their friend and teacher's life. The final speaker, my friend's husband (a friend of even longer standing), talked about her peace and contentment, right up to the end of her life. She died, he said, without regret.

On the 10^th anniversary of this memorial service, my friend’s husband posted a follow-up on Facebook that received over 500 responses of comments and emojis.  Reading those comments last week reminded me all over again of the wonder, the power, the necessity of a well-lived life and how the light of my friend’s influence has not dimmed one iota over the past ten years.  The love for her was just as strong, the loss just as poignant.  What a privilege to have known someone like that, and what an important reminder of the importance of how we live our lives!

Every year I like to share William Cullen Bryant's poem "Thanatopsis" with the juniors. Bryant was an American poet, Massachusetts born and raised, who first made his mark on the literary world in the early 1800s at the age of 17 with the publication of this meditation on death. A fairly long poem, it addresses the natural cycles of life, the importance of living that life so that when death comes along, there is no fear, no worry, only peace and contentment. I had to memorize the last nine lines of the poem when I was a junior in academy.  I’ve never forgotten them. The words made an impact on me then, but I didn't realize at that age what they really meant until later.  The words have been haunting me again since I read the Facebook post about that Sunday night ten years ago. It is no coincidence that Bryant and his poem are usually in my lesson plans towards the end of the school year. I need his reminder of the importance of living our life so well that when our time comes to leave this life, we can go peacefully, and with no regrets. And I like for that to be one of the last things I share with students before we separate for the summer—and with some, maybe, forever.  Bryant put into words what my friend put into reality.  Both challenge me to reexamine my own approach to life and live it to the fullest, and with confidence and joy.  Here are those last nine lines of a profound poem written by a teenager two hundred and nine years ago (an amazing thing in and of itself):

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Another American writer, humorist Mark Twain, wrote a somber observation once that I quoted at the beginning of this devotional.  Once you get over the cleverness of his statement, you have to admit its truth: we don't know the hour of our death.  But according to Bryant, we should know the necessity of living our lives so that our day of death is not an issue of concern.  We should be attentive to the way we live our life is and the quality of our relationship with God. It is always a timely message for me to be reminded of that.   This time, the reminder was complimented with the reminder of that decades-ago experience in memory of my friend. She was able to show us all the way to so live our lives.  She stood tall as an example of Paul meant when he wrote in 1 Corinthians 16: 13-14, “Keep your eyes open, hold tight to your convictions, give it all you’ve got, be resolute, and love without stopping (The Message).”  My prayer is that we each so live our lives that if our time comes before Jesus does, we can go to our rest, ready for that great getting-up day when He returns to awaken those who rest in Him. 

Your Destiny, God's Plans

“Leave to thy God, to order and provide; in every change, He faithful will remain.”

Katharina von Schlegal

It never fails. Or should I say He never fails. Every time I think I have nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, that there is no one there for me, He comes to my rescue. Every time. Without fail.  Every time, that is, that I remember to ask for His help.  That’s the wonderful thing to me about God: that He never fails me.  It’s also the curious thing about me: that I often fail to ask Him to help me. You would think I’d learn. You would think I’d remember how good it is when I let Him lead. You would think I’d think!

I suspect I’m not the only one living this paradox. In fact, I suspect that every one of us has been guilty of living it at one time or another. Maybe far too often, right?! Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m only human. A human still trying to find my way in a puzzling and frustrating world. A human too stubborn and proud to give myself overto anyone or anything else, too jaded to trust completely, too wary to place myself entirely in anyone’s hand except—maybe— His. A human who does not want to worry about anything, but who isn’t quite ready to give up the luxury of worrying if it means giving up control of my life in the process. A human just like you, right? 

When I was getting ready to graduate from college, my mother gave me the most important advice she’s ever given me—and she’s given me a lot over the years. My mother is a wonderfully wise person, though, and I respect her enormously.  When she tells me things, I pay attention, because she, too, has never failed me. Her advice has ranged from ways to deal with friends (when I was younger) to colleagues (now that I am older), from religion (when I was younger) to spirituality (now that I am older), from cooperation (when I was younger), to independence (now that I am older). She is the one who helped me make peace with myself as a teenager, and she helped me make peace with God as a young adult. “Place your destiny in God’s hands,” she told me” and you will always be safe, you will always be secure. You will never have to worry.”

She was right, you know.  He has never failed me whenever I have consciously asked Him to take charge of my life, and even when I haven’t. He has always taken care of me whenever I’ve had the courage to place my life, my destiny, in His hands.  And yet—for some reason, I don’t always immediately give my problems over to Him. I know from experience that all I have to do is ask. So, why is that so hard for me? I don’t even like to click he “help” button on my computer! And why am I not alone in this hesitance to trust?  Don’t some of you have that same struggle? Perhaps it’s because we don’t always want to go where God takes us if we give ourselves over to Him. Or perhaps it’s not that we don’t want to go, but that we’re afraid to go, or afraid we won’t be able to do what He requires if we give Him our lives.  Or perhaps we want what He wants, but are afraid others will make fun of us or won’t understand us for following His will instead of ours. Or perhaps we are less sure of Him than we are of ourselves.

Let me tell you something—something I know for a certainty. You will never regret giving yourself over to God’s charge. Never. I never have, although I have often wondered just how things were going to work out. But without fail, when I’ve looked back, I’ve been able to see that whatever has happened, when I’ve placed my trust and my destiny in God’s hands unconditionally, it has been the right thing. Without fail.  That’s an incredible statement, don’t you think? Even more incredible is to know it is not hyperbole. It’s true, I think, because God loves us unconditionally. And He has plans for us. Plans He hopes to put to use if only we ask and allow Him—to. He tells us in Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

But how do we get to that place? How do we keep from worrying about our destiny and let it rest easily in His hand? Jesus suggests some very specific things to do with the time we might otherwise use up in worrying, and I’d like to recommend them to you today. He says to seek first His kingdom. That means to focus your attention on heaven before you do anything else. If you do that, all other things will fall into place. If you do that, you will be able to embrace His second suggestion. “Do not be afraid,” He says. If you are focused on Him and your heavenly future, you have nothing to fear for your earthly present.  He will take care of you. He will not forsake you. Not only in the big things—like school plans and finances—but also in the little things, no matter how trivial they might seem. Third, He tells us “Do not worry for tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.”  If your attention is on today, and you are living today for the kingdom, there is no need to worry about tomorrow. In fact, the kingdom is already yours for the believing, because the Father wants to give it to you. Jesus goes on to suggest that we not anchor ourselves with earthly possessions—or worries. He tells us to give them all up for what we will have in His kingdom. “For,” He says, “where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” 

I love the words to that wonderful hymn “Be Still my Soul.” They have empowered me over and over since I first read them and paid attention to their meaning:

Be still my Soul, the Lord is on thy side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God, to order and provide;

In every change, He faithful will remain.

Be still my Soul, thy best, thy heavenly friend

Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still my Soul, thy God doth undertake

to guide the future as He has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my Soul: the waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still my Soul: the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone;

Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my Soul: when change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Today, I encourage you to give your life over to Jesus. Place your destiny and your plans fearlessly and confidently in the hands of your Best Friend. He will never fail you. Never.

Instruments of God's Peace

Mooselookmeguntic Lake, Rangeley, Maine

Some time ago, I watched a movie about a man I knew almost nothing about except that he had written a prayer that has been beautifully set to music I have played and sung many times. I love the words, but even though I’d been to the place where the author lived and worked many years ago— I never knew the story behind them until I saw that movie. His home is as picturesque and peaceful a place as you might imagine, nestled in the rugged mountains of Italy. But it took watching the story of Giovanni Francesco Bernardone and simultaneously finding myself in a dark enough place to crave desperately what he’d written about, for me to understand what this priest, otherwise known as Francis of Assisi, meant when he wrote this prayer:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, Grant that I may

not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

It was more than 800 years ago that Francis penned those words. No doubt they were meaningful words for him in his time. But I’d like to suggest to you that they are just as important– and necessary – for today’s Christian – today’s Seventh-day Adventist – in 2020.  Now, more than ever, we need to be understanding of each other, we need to be looking out for each other – whether it be while we are all at home, or when we are back at school, at work, or at church. With all the sadness and stress of the world around us, there has never been a greater need for peace – the peace of Jesus Christ. And there has never been a better place or time than right here, right now.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 5:9 that the peacemakers will be called the sons—and daughters—of God. George Herbert, a 17th century English poet and pastor, says that “Where there is peace, God is.” The question is, then, how do we become peacemakers, and thus bring God to the world? The answer lies, pretty plainly, in the words of St. Francis. At first glance, you might notice that St. Francis works in opposites; in lights and darks; in contrasts. He talks about hatred, injury, doubt, despair, darkness, and sadness. This is what we find in the world—a world without the love of Jesus. He then asks that God make him an instrument of peace—and through that instrument, allow Him to sow love, pardon, faith, hope, light, and joy—just the opposite of what exists in the world. This is what we are able to produce when God works together with us in the lives of others.

The second half of the poem centers on us – on our innermost selves – our needs and desires. God understands how easy it is for us as humans to get carried away with our own turning of the good into bad. St. Francis felt that, too, and so he asked for personal help in humility, in directing his focus away from himself and back to others. He asked for help in giving, with no thought for receiving. But the wonderful thing about this is that when we give, the opposite occurs: we end up receiving more than we give. He reminds us that forgiveness is a two-way street, a two-part process. When we forgive others, genuinely forgive them, it comes back on us as well. A forgiving spirit earns forgiveness as well.

Then St. Francis shows us one more paradox, perhaps the most exciting and important one of all. He says, “it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.” Not only does the death of Christ on the Cross give us a way to Eternal Life, but when we die to self – not just through baptism, but in our daily lives as Christians – we are given new life, and we begin walking the pathway to Eternal Life.

As Christians, then, according to St. Francis, we need to negate the negative opposites in the world through cultivating the positive opposites in our lives. Easier said than done, but not impossible. The Bible gives us several examples of unlikely candidates for being His instruments of peace: Zacchaeus, Naaman, Esther, Saul among them. The fact is, only Jesus and His love can take a person filled with hatred and injury and use him or her as an instrument of His love and healing. Jesus did that with those we read about in the Bible. He can do it for each one of us today. Instead of bringing darkness to those around us with criticism and unkind words, we can – as instruments of God’s peace – bring light – sowing loving words of encouragement and understanding. We can show faith in each other, act kindly towards one another at all times, and, yes, bring joy to each other.

I encourage you to think of ways you can personally be an instrument of God’s peace right here, this very day. It is my prayer that you will take St. Francis’ prayer and make it your own. Then God can and will make you an instrument of His peace. And the world, this church community, will be a better place.

Clothed with Strength and Dignity

This text perfectly describes my mother who has given me strength, shown dignity in all situations, laughed with my thousands of times over all kinds of situations and experiences.  She has no fear for the future because she has place her hand firmly in God's.  She is always wise and is still giving me instruction and showing me kindness.  She is the epitome of motherhood.  But she has also shown me how to be the quintessential professional.  I had the privilege of working with her at New England Memorial Hospital/Boston Regional Hospital in my teens and early twenties.  I learned so much from her about how to behave in the work place.  What a blessing she's been in my life!

We took the picture together when she was here with us in January.  We have the best time together!  We have many of the same interests--in reading, in music, in gardening, in exploring and adventuring.  There are no dull moments when she is around, that is for sure!

I've never had kids of my own, but have spent decades of my life working with teenagers.  They are lucky I had my mom's example of loving kindness and patience.  I wouldn't be half the person I am without her good example.

She's 91 one now, will be 92 at the end of the summer.  My sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews have been so fortunate to enjoy life with her part of ours!

I've also enjoyed observing mothers out in nature.  This Gambol's quail is one.  When we lived on campus, we had a family of Gambol's Quails who would bring their tiny babies to our backyard to fee off the quail block we kept under the pomegranate tree there.  We miss seeing her now that we've moved off campus.

For the Birds

This week, life has been for the birds...in a good way. Sunday we discovered this mama dove building a nest right on top of my 10 year old spider plant.

Yesterday, when she flew off for a brief break, we saw these two beautiful eggs. I wonder if she is the same dove who built her nest in another hanging flower pot last year. She fledged two pairs of babies, although one of them flew into the pool and drowned.

Meanwhile, we have been inundated by all kinds of finches at our bird feeders, much to Sophie's consternation. Here, she's intently watching about 8 finches (you can't see all of them; they are just out of range of the camera) and chattering madly at them through the window all the while. There is one who likes to taunt her by flying close to the window. Every now and again, she makes a lunge at it, unsuccessfully of course . . .

Hope for the Flowers

We have much to hope from the flowers.

~ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"Tell me, sir, what is a butterfly?"

"It's what you are meant to become. It flies with beautiful wings and joins the earth to heaven. It drinks only nectar from the flowers and carries the seeds of love from one flower to another. Without butterflies the world would soon have few flowers."

"How can I believe there's a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is a fuzzy worm? How does one become a butterfly?"

"You must want to fly so much you are willing to give up being a caterpillar."

"You mean to die?"

"Yes and No. What looks like you will die but what's really you will still live. Life is changed, not taken away. Isn't that different from those who die without ever becoming butterflies?"
--Hope For the Flowers by Trina Paulus

How does one become a butterfly? How does one get the courage to go from caterpillar to butterfly? What gives one the faith needed to take the risk to enter the cocoon in order to become a butterfly? More prosaically, how does one become a committed Christian? How does one get the courage to go from carefree to completely devoted? What gives one the faith to take the risk to become a Christian? How does one know the decision will pay off, that it will be worth it, that there will be no regrets? What makes one risk the only life they know for the mere possibility of eternal happiness? What does one have to go on, except what others say about their experience, and the peculiar hope that leaps within them at the promise of salvation?  

Augustine once said “the soul is restless until it rests in God.” And C. S. Lewis explained in his book Mere Christianity that it is not possible for man to live apart from Christ because "God made us: invented us as a man invents an engine. A car is made to run on gasoline, and it would not run properly on anything else. Now God designed the human machine to run on Himself. He Himself is the fuel our spirits were designed to feed on. There is no other. That is why it is just no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about religion. God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing."

So, there is in us a need for God. And it is natural for us to seek for a way to fill that need, just as it is natural for a caterpillar to eventually perform the task necessary to become a butterfly. A caterpillar, though, has no choice. A caterpillar cannot not become a butterfly. It must become one, because that is what a caterpillar does. Similarly, we cannot escape the urge to enter into a relationship with God. The difference, though, is that we have a choice, where a caterpillar does not. We can choose to ignore that natural drive towards a connection with God. We can choose to deny our need for a Higher Power directing our lives. We can choose to ignore our hunger for spiritual nourishment. But if we choose any one of these options, we will not be choosing happiness, too. And that, very simply, is it in a nutshell--or, rather, a cocoon.

There are risks, of course. Risks which are not so simple as entering into a cocoon one day and coming out a butterfly the next. And it is those risks which get in the way of so many, keeping them from experiencing the greatest love and satisfaction ever imagined possible. No one is born a spiritual butterfly. All of us come into the world as caterpillars. And all of us have to deal with metamorphosis, eventually. How we do so is what keeps us caterpillars or frees us into butterflies. Sooner rather than later, there must come a time when we need to decide to continue the caterpillar lifestyle or go through the process of becoming one of the most beautiful of all fliers. 

I like the way The Message describes the metamorphosis experience in 2 Corinthians 5:16-20: “Because of this decision we don’t evaluate people by what they have or how they look. We looked at the Messiah that way once and got it all wrong, as you know. We certainly don’t look at him that way anymore. Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it! All this comes from the God who settled the relationship between us and him, and then called us to settle our relationships with each other. God put the world square with himself through the Messiah, giving the world a fresh start by offering forgiveness of sins. God has given us the task of telling everyone what he is doing. We’re Christ’s representatives. God uses us to persuade men and women to drop their differences and enter into God’s work of making things right between them. We’re speaking for Christ himself now: Become friends with God; he’s already a friend with you.”  

It is at that point there is hope for the flowers.

Life in the Time of Corona--Week 7

We are now in the 8th week of Arizona's Stay at Home order in response to the Coronavirus--7th week of school-at-home.  During these weeks of sitting (quite a lot) in front of a computer for hours at a time, it's been hard to find time to get my steps in.  And yet we occasionally get out for a saunter around the neighborhood.  Here's one of the more interesting plants we've seen.  Looks kind of like the virus!

Dress Yourselves in Christ

I remember when I was younger (much), my mother and father would read Bible Stories to my sisters and me. I remember looking at the pictures of Jesus in the clouds and all the happy people coming out of their graves to meet Him—and I remember a strange sort of wonder and awe rushing through me. What a neat thing it would be to see Jesus when He comes! I remember not even thinking twice about leaving all I had on this earth and going home with Jesus. To be with Him would be the most exciting thing possible—and I couldn’t wait for Him to come. I look back on those little-girl dream-days and I have to smile. It’s a sad sort of smile, though, because so much simple joy has gone out of me since then. I hate to even say how long it has been—and He still hasn’t come. And instead of keeping that precious child-like eagerness, my heart is filled with a sad and hurting longing. True, it’s still a longing for Jesus to come back, but it’s also a longing for something else to come back—maybe that simplicity, that innocence I had as a child.

 

There have been times in my life when I’ve felt like I was closer to it than I’d been before, but instead of exciting me, somehow, it’s always kind of unnerved me. I remember especially one night. It was August 1 and I was in Interlaken, Switzerland watching the town’s spectacular celebration of the Swiss Independence Day. There had been a great parade and yodeling contests in the afternoon and a concert in the evening, followed by an hour-long display of fireworks such as you’ve never seen before. Imagine the scene—a crystal clear night in the Alps of Switzerland. Hundreds of people are gathered around the edges of the town’s open common, all eyes centered on a few men in the middle. Suddenly, there is a sharp hiss and then a loud explosion of color in the sky above that does not stop for the next hour. It just keeps coming, burst after burst of magnificence. 

 

As I stood there watching, something very strange happened. Even though I was in the midst of a crowd of loud and excited people, I suddenly felt as if I were alone. Instead of fireworks in the sky, I was seeing Jesus and His angels in all their glory. It only lasted a moment, but in that moment, a change came over me.  When the moment passed and I discovered that I was still on earth watching a display of earthly fireworks, I felt relief that there was still time to get my life together and yet at the same time, regret that Christ’s return wasn’t so imminent after all. 

 

That was more than 40 summers ago and He hasn’t come yet. The other day I found myself wondering why—and when—and if. Why hasn’t He come yet?  When will we finally figure out what we have to do to get Him back here? And if I would be here to see it. There was another if, too. If the people in my life would be ready when He came. Most Christians will say that we’re living in the last days, that we don’t have much time left here. If that’s true, it seems to me that it’s incumbent on each of us to make sure everyone we care about knows it too. And that they are as ready as we hope we are…

 

This week the North American Division has provided an opportunity for all Adventist young people, whether attending Adventist schools or not, to “attend” a Week of Prayer hosted at the Oakwood Adventist Church and featuring Carlton Byrd as the speaker.   The theme is “Finish Strong.”  As I write this, we have only heard the first installment but Bryd was very specific about what it means to “finish” and to “finish strong” and I am looking forward to hearing the rest of his message throughout this week and seeing how it translates into a response to his call to “finish strong.”

 

In this most unusual time of uncertainty, it seems important, even necessary, that each of us gets our priorities straight, not just our young people.  We all need to “finish strong” with Jesus. I love the fact that each of us has that opportunity every single day, all day long.   I love the fact that we have each day to make what we know about God’s love abundantly clear to anyone within the sphere of our influence—and that there is the distinct possibility that more than one of them will be ready to hear and understand it on any given day.

 

Romans 13:11 is a good reminder of why this matters so much.  The Message interpretation of the texts says this:  “But make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed. We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about!”

 

That is my prayer, then. That none will escape each day without making a decision about the place Jesus has in their life . . . that they will not be afraid to make the decision that their heart longs to make . . . that they will live a strong and happy life here on earth as a result . . . but more importantly find their place in heaven sooner than later.

What We Can Become

This is really the question for each of us as individuals as well as those of us who are involved with institutions.  Sooner or later, we will be able to go back to work, back to school.  If we can't go back as better people, though, and with the intention to be better in every way, we will have wasted our time away from each other.

There are just two weeks of classes and a week for finals left in the school year.  I am hoping for the best possible outcome and that we will finish strong.

There is a Balm

"And their father Israel said unto them, if it must be so now, do this; take of the best fruits in the land in your vessels, and carry down the man a present, a balm, and a little honey, spices, and myrrh, nuts, and almonds."  Genesis 43:11

Ten years ago last week, I spent the better part of the week in North Conway, NH, for the annual spring Atlantic Union Conference Office of Education Administrators' Council. It was a productive time; it also was a restful time. Each spring, one the six conferences in the Atlantic Union take turns hosting these meetings and the conference educational personnel go out of their way to make them worth the trip and the time. The spring of 2010, Northern New England Conference hosted and we met at a hotel nestled in the shadow of the Presidential mountain range of the White Mountains. The views from the conference room where we met, while foggy and rainy, and even snowy, were still breath-taking.

One of the traditions of these spring meetings is that the host conference provides each team member with a gift bag full of items representative of the host conference and, more specifically, state. That year's bag was full of comfort items—including kettle corn, maple taffy, and a tin of soothing balm for either sleep, muscle soreness, or healing. In addition, the superintendent of education and her secretary made beautiful welcome cards with a lovely fringed gentian along with the above text (Genesis 43:11) on the cover and the wonderful negro spiritual "There is a Balm in Gilead" on the inside.  Trudy (the superintendent) read the lyrics out loud to us as part of her welcome, expressing her hope that our time together would be a balm in the midst of our Gileads.

As I listened to the words of that hymn, I felt overwhelmed with the power and comfort of its message:

There is a balm in Gilead

To make the wounded whole.

There is a balm in Gilead

To heal the sin-sick soul.

Sometimes I feel discouraged

And I feel my work's in vain.

But then the Holy Spirit

Revives my soul again.

There is a balm in Gilead...

My friends attending and facilitating the week’s meetings little realized how much I needed that reminder, and I didn’t enlighten them at the time.  It was enough that something (a few things, actually) broke the tension that had been threatening to break me if I didn’t catch my breath somehow.  The kind words, the thoughtful, soothing gifts, and the healing words of an old hymn sufficed.

Sometimes that’s all it takes to bring healing to a hurting heart.  Sometimes we don’t even need all that.  Maybe it just takes a note, a text letting someone know we are thinking of them, that we are there for them if they need us.  At the end of each of my online classes, I always tell the students to reach out to me if they need anything.  “I’m here all day long,” I tell them. I’ve been on the receiving end of a few notes thanking me for that, commenting that even if they don’t need help with school, it helps knowing someone is there, ready to sooth and comfort if needed. 

There is another in our lives who is a balm in the Gilead of our trials and tribulations.  That other, Jesus Christ, is always there for us, and not just in the daylight hours.  There are no limits to His time or His presence.  Isaiah 43:2-3 New Century Version describes it this way:

² When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.
    When you cross rivers, you will not drown.
When you walk through fire, you will not be burned,
    nor will the flames hurt you.
³ This is because I, the Lord, am your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

We are all in need of the soothing balm that can only come through a relationship with Jesus. May I recommend Him to you?  He will revive your soul today.

No God, Only Chaos

"All this talk about God was just a childish evasion—desperate lies from a frightened, lonely mortal to himself out in a cold, dark, eternal night."

I read a book several years ago about the Impressionist artist Vincent Van Gogh. It was a fascinating study about an artist who had interested me for nearly thirty years, ever since I’d read Irving Stone's riveting biography, Lust for Life. Stone's book tells the story of the great Dutch artist who went as an evangelist to the miners of the Borinage in Belgium when he was in his early twenties. Vincent was enthusiastic and energetic as he began his ministry, eager to bring Christ to the miners who were as ignorant and illiterate as heathens. The mining conditions were deplorable, the wage/hour ratio outrageous, and what's more, there was no hope of any sort of improvement—ever. The owners turned deaf ears to all pleas. "It is the unsatisfactory lay of the couches," they said. "And that condition we will have to blame on God!" It was a hopeless vicious circle.

When Vincent went to the manager, all he would do was shake his head and say "that is

what turned me from a firm, faithful Catholic to a better atheist. I cannot understand how a God in Heaven would purposely create such a condition and enslave a whole race of people in abject misery for century after century without one hour of providential mercy!"  Stunned Vincent left without a word. But he persisted in his attempts to bring God's comfort to the miners.  Someway, he felt he could help them by giving them the peace of mind that comes in knowing God--in having Him as Friend and Protector. And he succeeded—for awhile. The miners were starved for something like this and they listened with all their hearts.

Then one day a terrible accident occurred in the mines, killing 30 men--among them the foreman, the only man, besides Vincent, the miners trusted.  They asked Vincent if he would go again to the owners and beg, on their behalf, for some sort of assistance and improvement in the working conditions. He did, but there was nothing he could say to persuade them to change.  The owners refused to make any improvements, and if the miners didn't work they said, the mines would be shut down. "Then God only know what will happen to them."

Vincent was defeated.  "God only knows," the owners had said.  But—did He really know? And if He did, why didn't He help them? Why didn't He make the owners change their minds?  Vincent had tried to bring God to the miners as a hope, a protection from the hideous conditions in the mines. He had tried to give them an opiate of religion, if you please. And he had failed. What could he say when the enemy was not the owners after all, but God Himself—the very opposite concept from what he had been preaching? Suddenly Vincent realized that "all this talk about God was just a childish evasion—desperate lies from a frightened, lonely mortal to himself out in a cold, dark, eternal night. There was no God only chaos; miserable, suffering, cruel, tortuous, blind, endless chaos."

Vincent never preached another sermon again. From that moment on, he, too, was an atheist. God had failed him as well as the miners.  Or had He? This story disturbed me as I read it. I recognized a lot of my own thinking when I have been severely disappointed or let down in something I had believed in—maybe even prayed about. Too often I am so sure I am right, that I am doing what God wants me to—and to suddenly discover that I am wrong, or for something terrible to happen seemingly out of the blue, can be a shattering experience. If I am not truly and firmly grounded in my Christian experience, I am apt to lose my perspective, my faith in God. I begin to believe He doesn't care; if He did, He wouldn't have let me down, He wouldn't have let "this" happen. 

It is in times like these that it is hardest for me to remember that God does know best, that He does care for me and is doing all He can for me. When it seems like there is nowhere left to turn, no answers, no hope, it is almost impossible to remember that I am not to live eternally here. But there is an end to the misery, and a chance for a new beginning—one with no dead ends.  As a Christian, I know this.  I have heard it countless times.  But as a human being, I don't always feel this. It is so easy to forget—to blame God for not helping me--instead of realizing that it is the sinful way of the world that makes it seem as if God's hands are tied—for the moment. It is this tendency that disturbs—even frightens—me. At the same time, it is the realization of this tendency that strengthens me. Ellen White tells us in ˆ, volume 9, p. 286 that "All that has perplexed us in the providences of God will in the world to come be made plain. The things hard to understand will then find explanation. The mysteries of grace will unfold before us.  Where our finite minds discover only confusion and broken promises, we shall see the most perfect and beautiful harmony.  We shall know that infinite love ordered the experiences that seemed most trying. As we realize the tender care of Him who makes all things work together for our good, we shall rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory."

There are many things that we don't understand here on earth. Sometimes it seems as if nothing is going right. And we ask God to help us—expecting Him to answer the way we want.  Sometimes He does, but sometimes He can't. In those times—when we feel like throwing our faith away because it isn't giving the desired opiate effect—we need most to hold on.  Maybe if Vincent had been able to hang on to his faith, he might not have lost his mind.  After he left the mining community, Vincent turned to painting. He spent years trying to find recognition and success as an artist, but mostly met with disappointment and rejection.  Eventually, he suffered a breakdown, cutting off his own ear in his desperation. He was in and out of asylums, trying to find peace, but never finding it.  Maybe he might not have had to spend his life searching for something to fill the gap that was left when he abandoned God. If he had held on, especially in the dark moments, he would have known that without Him, there is nothing.  Only chaos; miserable, suffering, cruel, tortuous, blind, chaos.