Gray Days & Gratitude

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Autumn's Yet to Be Spring Garden

From this corner of the garden – literally and metaphorically – it’s a gray day.  No matter that in that respite I was able to clean up the scraggly remains of last autumn’s additions to the garden – I am grumpy because I can’t put in all the colorful annuals that herald a Texas spring, since a sudden frost remains a distinct possibility until late March.   Forget the blessed memory of the past few days of weather that was sunny & seventy; today is gray – somewhat oppressive – capturing perfectly my heart’s malaise. 

I am bewildered by the losses sustained by some friends, and the trials that others endure, especially the unimaginable burdens a young boy bears in a hospital bed in Maryland.   And the news headlines are as worrisome and perplexing as ever.  Looking back over three years of blog posts – news still takes a toll on the spirit and baffles the mind. 

If I can't plow up flowerbeds, then I'll dig around to find what others are thinking about hard times. 

 

Philip Yancy repeated a joke going around Sarajevo in their nightmare years that sums up this “new normal” that too many loved ones now have:

“Do you know the difference between an optimist and a pessimist? 

A pessimist says, ‘Oh dear, thing’s can’t possibly get any worse.’ An optimist says, “Don’t be so sad. Things always get worse.”

In sum, I avoid trying to answer the Why? question because any attempt will inevitably fall short and may even rub salt in an open wound. As Jesus’ followers, we can instead offer a loving and sympathetic presence that may bind wounds and heal a broken heart. . .
  . . . As a counterbalance to the list of seven deadly sins, the church in the Middle Ages came up with a list of seven works of mercy: to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, house the homeless, visit the sick, ransom the captives, bury the dead . . .

. . . not all of us can serve on the front lines of mercy . . . I . . . came up with an additional list of spiritual works of mercy: to instruct the ignorant, counsel the doubtful, admonish sinners, bear wrongs patiently, forgive offences willingly, comfort the afflicted, pray for the living and the dead. (Philip Yancey, The Question That Never Goes Away. pages 47,40, 41)

So, if Mr. Yancey is right, I see that I am never without something to do in the midst of heartache or upheaval."Gray" still has a good deal of light in it.

On this gray day then, I need to turn from what I can’t change, and change what I can; I will soak in the comforting, convicting counsel from Dr. Tony Evans:

You may think you don't have everything you want, but God expects you to be grateful for what you have.

Hmmmmm:

·      I have a yard, with flowerbeds that are ready to be planted, when the weather permits, and I have time to pray.

·      Today, I have the health to hope for gardening chores, and time to pray.

·      I live in a country that remains the inspiration of people fighting tyrannies more grim than ever, and the freedom to pray.

And I managed to get a sweet arrangement of hearty winter pansies to remind me: It ain’t over yet.  If it were all bright and sunny and hot – the pansies would shrivel up.

I Remembered!

What is THIS?

When we came back from Maryland, I was overwhelmed to see how well one large pot of flowers had boomed – but I could not for the life of me remember what it was! I had started some flowers from seeds, transplanted others and rejoiced other flowers had simply made it thought the mild winter – what was this lush, flowering plant?

It stumped me for weeks! And nobody else seemed to know, including a couple of friends with gardening skill!

Yesterday, it popped into my head.  A friend had given a baggie full of dried flowers from her garden that she had gotten from her mom!  She had assured me that bachelor buttons were both hardy and prolific, even in Texas summers.

I remember now burying them about an inch into potting soil in a large container, not knowing what exactly to expect -- thinking when I buried them, this might not work.  But I watered a pot of dirt until we left for Maryland in mid June.   And somehow, they survived in the sun and heat with whatever drops of rain that fell in our absence. These are a hardy lot!

This forgetting and remembering made me think of a bit of shared wisdom between a friend and me years ago – “Sometimes, we will not get out of the deserts in which we find ourselves, until we like the taste and feel of sand.”  Now, that may seem as dodgy a bit of wisdom as those dried flowers seemed a possibility of vibrant color in my garden – that insight has helped me, nonetheless.  

I buried the wisdom, watered it with the truth that God inhabits the praises of His people, and I have seen unexpected blessings bloom, in her life, in others and in mine. But I often forget this – as I forgot planting the dried flowers, and their name. I forget that God can bring forth beauty from unexpected, even forgotten places.

But from a desert?

When I became a Christian, I didn’t bargain on desert treks – long periods of grief, fear, troubles, and setbacks; feelings of separation from God and estrangements from loved ones.  Although warned I would make them, I thought I had secured a spot in a safe oasis that would shelter me until . . . whenever. And this is where my friend’s experiences, strength and hope helped me – she told me of her desert trek, invited me to join a praise choir as she and her family were on a brutal journey.

Deserts are scary places – my idea of fun still would never be what some do – exploring and camping in the desert as one couple did in the Tunisian desert. (Paul and Sheryl Shard’ pictures from Distant Shores) They found beauty, wonder and adventure – and some danger. But they made it through, and loved their adventure, even recommending it.  

And I can commend such a walk with God . . . knowing that no desert, either a spiritual or a literal desert, is without hazard, deprivation, and even terror.  But this desert is the one place where God can show us stuff about ourselves we would learn nowhere else. (Deuteronomy 8:2) And this spiritual desert is where we can learn the excellent provisions of His grace that the world’s oases can obscure.

God, help me remember this when I forget so many other things! 

Tunisian Desert DISTANT SHORES

Warnings: If You See Something, Say Something.

This has been our government’s warning to us for over a decade, since September 11, 2001.  And because of folks who heeded this warning, we have saved lives.  

I see something – and I want to say something, and it’s news from a courthouse in Philadelphia, news that our press simply is not covering. In this corner of my garden, wanting to be more winsome than whiny, I wonder how to say what I see that is at best upsetting – and at worst, disastrous.  I will use others' words:  

·      A journalist who saw that few of the American press were covering the trial, and  reported on the Pennsylvania authorities who ignored serious health and safety violations for almost two decades.  And he described what happened in that clinic. The link is not for the fainthearted: What I Saw at the Gosnell Trial .

·      Andree Seu Peterson wrote, of this trial, “The shocking part of the Kermit Gosnell trial isn't only what's illegal.”  (Another link that that shocks: Courtroom Horror)

We can roll over, and ignore the alarms that some people are reporting, remembering the doctor may be exonerated.  

But, what then?   

How that jury rules will tell us more about them and us than about Gosnell.

Still we have to ask:  How could such monstrous practices go on for so long? How could people be kept quiet?  How could medical malpractice procedures not ever be instituted? (Gadfly’s Muse: The Pathway to Kermit Gosnell )

I’ve been known to sleep through alarms, to ignore many obvious warnings – believing nothing bad could happen. But now, the warning I hear is old -- reverberating from somewhere in the tenth century B.C.  when Solomon warned his son get involved in saving people who are being butchered:

Deliver those who are being taken away to death,

And those who are staggering to slaughter, Oh hold them back.   

If you say, "See, we did not know this,"

Does He not consider it   weighs the hearts ?

And does He not know it who keeps your soul?

And will He not render to man according to his work? . . .

(Proverbs 24:11-14 emphasis added)

Wake up O sleeper – and listen to what God said to Esther through her uncle:

Mordecai sent her this message: “Don’t think that just because you live in the king’s house you’re the one Jew who will get out of this alive. If you persist in staying silent at a time like this, help and deliverance will arrive for the Jews from someplace else; but you and your family will be wiped out. Who knows? Maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14 The Message)

May God lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil – the evil that is smack dab in front of us, and of our making!

WORLD Magazine May 4, 2013

Voices

Usually it is my voice I think I hear reminding me of the next thing I should be doing, or chiding me for forgetting a task. Sometimes though I hear myself remembering times past, and wishing I had done things differently. Regret is a more regular companion nowadays, changing the conversations in my head. 

Regret is a gentler attendant than another conversation changer in my head – resentment.  Resentment revives old hurts and excuses me, while blaming and accusing others. Regret also revives memories – but differently. Regret helps me own my part in a hard conversation, or a painful experience. Resentment enumerates wrongs, real and imagined. Regret keeps me off my high horse. Regret urges me to confess and repent, and to repair what I can now, first to God, and then with the people I can.

Regret tells me of hidden treasures in moments I thought would come again – or never end, and reminds me to recognize these riches happening all around me now.  Others heard and wisely counseled listening to regret, and shutting off resentment:  

·      Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.  Carrie Fisher

·      A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame. Shakespeare

·      A man should never be ashamed to own that he has been in the wrong, which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser today than yesterday. Jonathan Swift

·      If you have sinned, do not lie down without repentance; for the want of repentance after one has sinned makes the heart yet harder and harder.  -- John Bunyan

·      The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone. Harriet Beecher Stowe

 “Don’t let the darkness talk to [me].” Ed Welch  

Jesus at Starbucks?

Answering a disgruntled investor over advocacy of same sex marriage Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz offered investors this advice:

“If you feel, respectfully, that you can get a higher return than the 38 percent you got last year, it’s a free country. You can sell your shares of Starbucks and buy shares in another company. Thank you very much." link 

An interesting challenge [again] faces investors and customers:  How are we using our money, and to what end – whether investing a nest egg or just buying a small coffee – I mean short coffee. 

Every major corporation uses its profits as it sees fit to invest in opportunities, political, economic and social to advance the best interests of itself.  They often give to many charities representing a variety of services, not all of which Christians would consider worthwhile uses of their money. (Think Microsoft and Amazon and Apple.)  And some corporations, even those espousing  “family” values, have gotten rough press about how they treat their employees.

Starbucks has been a wonderful and successful company, putting employee well being right up with customer education and satisfaction, and the company has indeed made many investors a lot of money. See Howard Schultz’ biography and How Starbucks Saved My Life. 

A thirty-eight percent return is hard to beat, but, Starbucks’ investors and customers now have a clearer understanding of how the profits their money earned is being used, including knowing their money is providing health care and other opportunities to the employees.

What we do with this information may vary. Some of us may apply there for a job! Others threaten boycotts. One Starbucks friend urged a kinder, gentler response – describing the Lord Jesus as perhaps enjoying a latte at a local Starbucks, with fellow customers and baristas.  No, doubt Joanna would have been buying! (Luke 8:3)

How He would have addressed the CEO’s gauntlet, I can’t imagine— “pride goes before a fall?”

Possibly some of us will stay with Starbucks – perhaps believing it to be the lesser of many evils in today’s world. Or, a few of us will now think of how better to invest our time and talents and resources differently, thanking Mr. Schultz for his gracious invitation to try other venues for making money.  Maybe others of us might strike out on our own, having a bit of vision, passion and talents, like the skills that propelled Mr. Schultz?

Mr. Schultz' invitation prompts me to inventory how I “use” money.  Dolly Levi in “Hello Dolly,” said, “Money, if you will pardon the expression is like manure. It's not worth a thing unless it's spread around, encouraging young things to grow. 

I wonder if it’s time to rethink how and what I am encouraging to grow. 

Where is the Baby Nest?

My daughter and her family have a collection of crèches – all are kid-friendly.  But one figure in the largest crèche they withhold until Christmas morning – the infant Jesus. The manger, filled with hay, is empty.  The children handle all the pieces – indeed the figures in the crèche migrate;  sometimes the Virgin Mary goes into the play-mobile kitchen –and sometimes Joseph and the shepherds join Darth Vader in an adventure or two. But one morning our grandson couldn’t find that hay-filled manger and tore around the house crying out: Where’s the baby nest? 

It became a question I asked when I learned that Revelation 12, the current topic of our weekly Bible study has been described as another view of the Christmas story – reading it, I want to know where that baby nest is too!  What John saw sure doesn’t sound like what Luke and Matthew report! Eugene Peterson agrees and writes:

It is St. John’s Spirit-appointed task to supplement the work of St. Matthew and St. Luke so that the nativity cannot be sentimentalized into coziness nor domesticated into drabness, nor commercialized into worldliness. He makes explicit what is implicit in the Gospel stories . . . The splendors of creation and the agonies of redemption combine in this event, this center where God in Christ invades existence with redeeming life and decisively defeats evil. It is St. John’s genius to take Jesus in a manger attended by shepherds and wise men and put him in a cosmos attacked by a dragon. The consequence to our faith is that we are fortified against intimidation. Our response to the Nativity cannot be reduced to shutting the door against a wintry world, drinking hot chocolate and singing carols. Rather, we are ready to walk out of the door with, as one psalmist puts it, high praises of God in our throats and two-edged swords in our hands. (See Psalm 149:6, Reversed Thunder –The Revelation of John & the Praying Imagination, pp121-122)

Is that how the remembrance of Christ’s birth inspired you? 

 In spite of good spiritual intentions, I bought into the world’s celebration of a baby’s birth, holed myself up with loved ones, and had myself a merry little Christmas. By the season’s end, I am just so glad the hoopla is past, and so looking for a fresh start in the New Year, that I forget to remember the person whose birthday I just observed is A Savior – which is Christ the Lord.  No wonder, I don’t have much of a new song, nor have I much of a sword.  

           

Revelation depicts spiritual warfare – the supernatural battles between God and Satan.    Such a revelation isn’t the lens through which most of us admit we see the world in which we live, even as we live in a world filled with spiritual longing and superstition. The Bible is plain, though, from Genesis to Revelation that God is an infinite and personal spirit. (Not symbolic) And His enemy, while not flesh and blood, is also spirit, and masquerades so we don’t immediately recognize him, or his servants. (2 Corinthians 11:14) He is no symbol either; he is God’s most unwilling servant.  A created being, he serves God’s purposes. Unhappily, the visible church says too frequently – Satan isn’t really real – and the Holy Spirit is just a symbol. (George Barna)   
 

Dealing with realities beyond us doesn’t make them non-existent or invincible.

C.S. Lewis, in The Screwtape Letters, wrote: 

"There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight." 

And he warned

"The safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts."
 

Curling up and falling asleep in the comforts of this great nation is a great way to gradually squander a great inheritance. Willfully ignoring a holy and personal God may seem desirable – Eve thought so.

 God help me wake up and sing --   – and make useful a limp sword.  (Hebrews 4:12)

"Only when we stand in awe of God will we cease to stand in awe of Satan."  (Erwin Lutzer, The Serpent of Paradise) 

Talk on Revelation 12 

Looking Away from A Water-Stained Floor

We finally met on the fly, in the DFW airport; I was picking up some family, and she had flown in to speak about disability issues at Dallas Theological Seminary. She didn’t know me, but she had been introduced to me through her music, and then her art. So, I have known of her for over thirty years. Her voice is clear, her paintings and drawing as pristine and moving as her sketches and paintings. Her writing is as powerful as her music and art. And most mornings I hear her speak when I read the daily e-mail her ministry sends.

This morning, the devotional, written in 1993, was about spiritual blessings – her point was we are more blessed than angels:

“. . . What are our spiritual blessings? Peace that is profound. A soul that is settled. Assurance of joy. Grace to let go and give. Life eternal, rich and free. A home in heaven. A best friend in God. Truly, we have more than the angels.”

It’s easy to say Amen when life is sweet; it’s another matter to say that when illness, grief, disappointment and other pains assault us. Yet, my “friend” speaks as a quadriplegic, and now a breast-cancer survivor. (2010) She has the right to tell me – and you, dear reader, to “Snap out of it!”

Joni then explained how, though profoundly afflicted, she is content with every spiritual blessing God has given her in Christ. She quoted from The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, written in the 17th century by Jeremiah Burroughs:

"Luther says: 'The sea of God's mercies should swallow up all our particular afflictions.'If you pour a pail full of water on the floor, it makes a great show, but if you throw it into the sea, there is no sign of it. Afflictions considered in themselves are great. But let them be considered in the sea of God's mercies and then they are not so much. They are nothing in comparison."

Maybe you hurt for good and sufficient reasons this morning, dear reader – I know I’ve got “good” reasons to be less than upbeat. But just for today, I will consider Joni Eareckson Tada’s wisdom and look away from water staining my floor, and consider the ocean of grace that sustains me in ways too numerous to count. I pray you can, too.

Love in Christ,

bwsmith

Hanging with the Hurting . . . Feeling the Burn

Ok – the Rangers are not having a good second World Series night – the pitchers are walking in runs! It looks bad . . . 9-0 Giants in the eighth inning. And the Rangers went down in the ninth – game over.

Wow . . . A second big loss!

Our baseball team is struggling to perform - to be as good as they have been and we know they can be – a snapshot of life.

Ball games, like baseball or softball, show how groups of talented people work together to reach goals. They are put together by other people who can spot talent, develop it and use it to great advantage and  entertainment.

Technology has changed how we watch a baseball game. Years ago, the only way I knew what players looked like was by checking their  baseball cards. Now I see them close up on TV and know who shaved and who didn’t. Sometimes what I see is too much information! Close-up shots show the emotions the players experience as they play. I see faces of players in the dugouts – and the litter underneath their feet as they await their turn at bat. I  see how pitchers respond to the catchers’ signals; instant replays from many different angles; freeze frames capture the sheer force of a strike-out as the bat is nowhere near the pitch.

Our recent return to being baseball fans reconnected me to a paralyzing childhood fear. The words, “It’s your turn up at bat,” or “Batter up!” panicked me when I was in school. Facing any kind of pitcher, quickly showed my athletic limitations; a strike-out, or a foul-out substantiated them. If I connected with the ball, alas, I was an easy out at first. The shame and fear of striking out, fouling out, or being tagged out was real – so was failing the team.

So our return to baseball – albeit on a couch –  has been an unexpected  goad, reminding me that I don’t go through life alone – I am on several teams: my family;  our business; my community – state and nation, and the church. In each of these arenas, it isn’t just about my individual game – which always needs improvement, no matter the venue.  It’s about how I am helping my team, even from a position of limitations.

 I see people I love who are struggling; they are up at plate, or playing a base or outfield in the games of their lives, and for all the times they are stellar players, other time they fail. What am I doing? Am I so hung up on myself – my very real failures and selfish ambitions  – that I can’t see fellow teammates are struggling too?

Paul wrote to the church in Corinth – a bustling city which had many of the same sins that stumble  21st century Christians –  and said he ran his race to win – and he urged the church to do likewise. (1 Cor. 9:24-25) He was quite a competitor (Philippians 3:4-6) He had his eyes on the prize – and yet he saw those who stumbled – felt a deep compassion. “Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?” (2 Cor. 11:28-29)

I want the Rangers to win – but I can’t help them.

I want my family to win. Not just success in the world’s eyes – but success in God’s eyes. I can help them. I want all of them to wear a victor’s wreathe – my husband and children, and their children; for my brother and his family; for aunts and uncles, in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews – everyone I know! For my church – for the pastors and teachers, choir and servants, I want them to be lights that can’t be extinguished or hidden.  And if I and those closest to me  “win” the races set before us, perhaps my nation will one day love the Lord.

The starting point is  knowing and caring how other people are doing – and considering their welfare as important as mine. 

Impossible? Well,  look how the Rangers have come together, and how far they have come. Despite reversals, uncertainties and failures, they kept showing up, they kept playing ball and they got beyond their past! It’s an example I can practice; it’s an example I recommend – whether or not they win the World Series.

Heroism – “Doe The Next Thynge.”

Atticus Finch in  To Kill a Mockingbird  defined heroism:

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.  It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.  You rarely win, but sometimes you do.”   (Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, Chapter 11)

Two real women come to mind who modeled this description – Miep Gies and Elisabeth Elliot.   

By 1942, Miep Gies was licked – the Nazis had occupied her country, Holland, since 1940. A gun would not have helped her defy so mighty a force. But, she did what she could to save a few lives, humans who were marked for destruction because they were Jewish. She was a secretary of Otto Frank and she took a risk, hiding him and his family and a few others, and continuing to do what she did on a daily basis.  She said:

"Imagine young people would grow up with the feeling that you have to be a hero to do your human duty. I am afraid nobody would ever help other people, because who is a hero? I was not. I was just an ordinary housewife and secretary."

Indeed she was an office secretary, one who defied the Nazi occupiers, and hid the family for two years, simply doing the next thing.  Here’s the full story.

 

In 1955, Elisabeth Elliot, too, was licked when she received word her husband, Jim and four other men were speared to death in the jungles of Ecuador. (Ed McCully, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming, and their pilot, Nate Saint also perished) She had no gun; widowed, the mother of a toddler, she lived among the very people who slaughter her husband and fellow workers. Like Miep Gies, she got on with her work and mothering.

In her own words: (Emphasis added)

When I went back to my jungle station after the death of my first husband, Jim Elliot, I was faced with many confusions and uncertainties. I had a good many new roles, besides that of being a single parent and a widow. I was alone on a jungle station that Jim and I had manned together. I had to learn to do all kinds of things, which I was not trained or prepared in any way to do. It was a great help to me simply to do the next thing.

Have you had the experience of feeling as if you've got far too many burdens to bear, far too many people to take care of, far too many things on your list to do? You just can't possibly do it, and you get in a panic and you just want to sit down and collapse in a pile and feel sorry for yourself.

Well, I've felt that way a good many times in my life, and I go back over and over again to an old Saxon legend, which I'm told is carved in an old English parson somewhere by the sea. I don't know where this is. But this is a poem which was written about that legend. The legend is "Do the next thing." And it's spelled in what I suppose is Saxon spelling. "D-O-E" for "do," "the," and then next, "N-E-X-T." "Thing"-"T-H-Y-N-G-E."

The poem says, "Do it immediately, do it with prayer, do it reliantly, casting all care. Do it with reverence, tracing His hand who placed it before thee with earnest command. Stayed on omnipotence, safe 'neath His wing, leave all resultings, do the next thing." That is a wonderfully saving truth.  Just do the next thing!