"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness..." (Matthew 5:6). Or it could be said, "Blessed are those who want God and His perfect will for their lives more than anything." And what does that mean exactly? Does it mean I must give up any preconceived ideas about what His will is and how He may choose to use me? Does it mean my own personal identity be lost in who He is in my life? Is what I want and am capable of doing in the Kingdom insignificant in light of His design for me? Yes to all those questions!
Let's face it. After being part of the Family for a time, and beginning to discover what our spiritual gifts and talents really are, we have a tendency to begin to presume our usefulness to God. Somewhere in the recesses of our minds wearing the facade of humility is the presumption that God is really fortunate that we decided to get on board and join the team! He NEEDS us! We bring something to the mix that no one else could. But reality is that whatever needs to be done in this world, He can get it done without us. The reality is that we have the privilege of being part of something really great, something of eternal value, if we so desire. He is willing to use us if we really want to be used, but it will be as He chooses to use us.
That probably means those natural gifts and talents, while a wonderful part of who He has made us and which will be used from time to time, will probably not be the forms through which we do our most effective Kingdom work. We have no righteousness within ourselves. Our hunger and thirst takes us beyond ourselves. It stretches us in ways we never dreamed possible.
Dr. Martin Luther King is quoted as saying, "Christianity has always insisted that the cross we bear precede the crown we wear." Crown wearing has always been more enticing than cross bearing, even among Christ followers. Our hunger and thirst will give us a craving for the cross. Does that mean we have a sadistic need for suffering, that we somehow equate suffering with righteousness? No. It means we want God and His perfect will for our lives more than anything!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Finish the Race
It was one of those beautiful spring days. The trees were filled with baby leaves enough to fill the void of winter with bright green evidence of new life. Flowers were blooming. The air was warm, not hot or cold, just perfect sweater weather. And we were going for a walk. The entire student body and faculty of Grant Elementary School in Macomb, Illinois were walking the 6 or so blocks to the football stadium of Western Illinois University to watch the Special Olympics!
There was excitement in the air as the children and teachers settled in their seats and participants milled around on the track and field below. I looked across the field and saw some of the participants warming up for shot put and javelin throwing. Others were stretching in preparation for high jumping or running. They were of every size and description. Some looked strong and healthy. Many were Downs Syndrome children, some were in wheelchairs, others were in leg braces. I watched as one child in a wheelchair, both legs gone, was lifted onto the hard surface of the track just to be free from the chair for a short time.
Directly below our seats a group of young people were preparing to run the 100 yard dash. They lined up across the track in perfect starting position, the gun went off, and off they ran as fast as they could go. All accept for one little Downs Syndrome girl. She barely got started before she tripped and fell in a heap to the hard surface of the track. It seemed the entire audience gasped in unison as she fell to the ground. All eyes were on the girl. No one even paid attention to who was winning the race. The attention was on her.
She cried over and over again, "I can't do it! I can't run the race!" Suddenly her coach, a young college girl, came running from the side lines shouting, "Get up and run! You can do it! Don't give up! Run the race!"
"I can't!" the little girl cried again. Then something happened that I shall never forget. The little girl's coach took her by the hand, helped her to her feet, brushed her off, and said, "Come on. We'll run the race together."
The crowd went wild, cheering her on as she headed for the finish line! The runners who had already finished the race cheered her on from the finish line! At that moment it didn't matter who had run the fastest and finished first. It only mattered that this little girl finish the race she had begun.
Philippians 3:13b-14 says, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." There is so much in life to trip us up, make us fall, cause us to think we are of little use to anyone anymore, make us believe we can't finish the race. Then our precious coach, Jesus Christ, through the Holy Spirit, comes running to us, takes us by the hand, and says, "Come on. We'll run the race together. I will never leave you or forsake you. You will make it to the finish line where there is a prize awaiting you."
You don't have to be the strongest runner, or the fastest. You don't have to finish first. You just have to run the race with your little hand in His big hand until you reach the finish line. There He will declare, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"
There was excitement in the air as the children and teachers settled in their seats and participants milled around on the track and field below. I looked across the field and saw some of the participants warming up for shot put and javelin throwing. Others were stretching in preparation for high jumping or running. They were of every size and description. Some looked strong and healthy. Many were Downs Syndrome children, some were in wheelchairs, others were in leg braces. I watched as one child in a wheelchair, both legs gone, was lifted onto the hard surface of the track just to be free from the chair for a short time.
Directly below our seats a group of young people were preparing to run the 100 yard dash. They lined up across the track in perfect starting position, the gun went off, and off they ran as fast as they could go. All accept for one little Downs Syndrome girl. She barely got started before she tripped and fell in a heap to the hard surface of the track. It seemed the entire audience gasped in unison as she fell to the ground. All eyes were on the girl. No one even paid attention to who was winning the race. The attention was on her.
She cried over and over again, "I can't do it! I can't run the race!" Suddenly her coach, a young college girl, came running from the side lines shouting, "Get up and run! You can do it! Don't give up! Run the race!"
"I can't!" the little girl cried again. Then something happened that I shall never forget. The little girl's coach took her by the hand, helped her to her feet, brushed her off, and said, "Come on. We'll run the race together."
The crowd went wild, cheering her on as she headed for the finish line! The runners who had already finished the race cheered her on from the finish line! At that moment it didn't matter who had run the fastest and finished first. It only mattered that this little girl finish the race she had begun.
Philippians 3:13b-14 says, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." There is so much in life to trip us up, make us fall, cause us to think we are of little use to anyone anymore, make us believe we can't finish the race. Then our precious coach, Jesus Christ, through the Holy Spirit, comes running to us, takes us by the hand, and says, "Come on. We'll run the race together. I will never leave you or forsake you. You will make it to the finish line where there is a prize awaiting you."
You don't have to be the strongest runner, or the fastest. You don't have to finish first. You just have to run the race with your little hand in His big hand until you reach the finish line. There He will declare, "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"
Things Are Different Now
The past few weeks have been quite stressful with my husband in the hospital twice and other family stresses. I really needed a vacation day. It seemed my own house would be the best place to take my little one day vacation, and so I did.
I began the day sitting in my overstuffed chair, feet up and Lily napping on my lap, my Bible open to the verses Ken had preached from on Sunday. I was happy to receive some new insights as I read, nothing really earth shaking, but good.
I decided some music would be good while I looked at e-mail and balanced my checkbook. (Not exactly a vacation thing to do.) At first I thought Christmas music would be nice. There was no one around to say it's too early for Christmas music. But, as I reached for a Christmas CD, the title on the spine of another CD caught my eye, "The Love Concert." Perfect! Nostalgia, inspiration, and fun all wrapped up in one little package. You see, this is a recording of the Rock Island First Church of the Nazarene youth choir, with my good friend, Fred Kelley, my sister, Ruth, and me singing about the love of God. The concert was the teen missionary project for 1972 to raise money for renovations at a home in California for retired missionaries.
First I heard Rev. Don Tyler welcoming the crowd. I remember it being a packed house. Then he called on my dad, Rev. Joe Hirst, to pray. I listened to my dad's voice as he talked to God, invoking His blessing on the evening's activities. He has been in heaven since 1976. It was so good to hear his voice! Then the music began.
The youth choir started the program with a good old Gaither tune. I thought about some of those young people who I loved dearly. They were in their early to middle teen years then. Now they are all in their late 40's or early 50's! Unbelievable!
I heard a young woman's voice saying something about God's love, then a piano introduction, and a clear, strong female voice began to sing, "If That Isn't Love." I recognized the voice immediately! It was me! And, may I just take the liberty of saying, it was beautiful.
Without warning, and with no self control, I began to sob. I didn't mean to, and I didn't want to, but I could not stop myself. It came from someplace so deep within me I had no idea that place even existed. "God!" I cried, "I can't do that any more! This disease I have is robbing me of my abilities to do some of those things I love to do! I hate this disease! Please let me do some of these things again!" Even now a lump comes in my throat and tears threaten to spill over as I remember yesterday. Many yesterdays! Yesterdays when Fred and I sang together before he and Phylis went home to be with the Lord. Yesterdays when Ruth's beautiful soprano voice wasn't affected by Lyme's Disease, nor was my voice experiencing the tightening of my throat muscles from Parkinson's medication.
Things are different now. I was 27 then. Now I'm 64. I didn't even know what Parkinson's Disease was then. Now I live with it daily. All my close friends were living and we were having wonderful Christian fellowship and ministry together. Now many of them are walking the streets of gold waiting for the arrival of those of us left behind. My investment in heaven is becoming greater as time goes by.
There is something to be said for looking back. However, Paul reminds us in Philippians 3:12-14, that we need to forget what is behind and press on toward the goal to win the prize God has waiting for us. We'll talk about that next time.
I began the day sitting in my overstuffed chair, feet up and Lily napping on my lap, my Bible open to the verses Ken had preached from on Sunday. I was happy to receive some new insights as I read, nothing really earth shaking, but good.
I decided some music would be good while I looked at e-mail and balanced my checkbook. (Not exactly a vacation thing to do.) At first I thought Christmas music would be nice. There was no one around to say it's too early for Christmas music. But, as I reached for a Christmas CD, the title on the spine of another CD caught my eye, "The Love Concert." Perfect! Nostalgia, inspiration, and fun all wrapped up in one little package. You see, this is a recording of the Rock Island First Church of the Nazarene youth choir, with my good friend, Fred Kelley, my sister, Ruth, and me singing about the love of God. The concert was the teen missionary project for 1972 to raise money for renovations at a home in California for retired missionaries.
First I heard Rev. Don Tyler welcoming the crowd. I remember it being a packed house. Then he called on my dad, Rev. Joe Hirst, to pray. I listened to my dad's voice as he talked to God, invoking His blessing on the evening's activities. He has been in heaven since 1976. It was so good to hear his voice! Then the music began.
The youth choir started the program with a good old Gaither tune. I thought about some of those young people who I loved dearly. They were in their early to middle teen years then. Now they are all in their late 40's or early 50's! Unbelievable!
I heard a young woman's voice saying something about God's love, then a piano introduction, and a clear, strong female voice began to sing, "If That Isn't Love." I recognized the voice immediately! It was me! And, may I just take the liberty of saying, it was beautiful.
Without warning, and with no self control, I began to sob. I didn't mean to, and I didn't want to, but I could not stop myself. It came from someplace so deep within me I had no idea that place even existed. "God!" I cried, "I can't do that any more! This disease I have is robbing me of my abilities to do some of those things I love to do! I hate this disease! Please let me do some of these things again!" Even now a lump comes in my throat and tears threaten to spill over as I remember yesterday. Many yesterdays! Yesterdays when Fred and I sang together before he and Phylis went home to be with the Lord. Yesterdays when Ruth's beautiful soprano voice wasn't affected by Lyme's Disease, nor was my voice experiencing the tightening of my throat muscles from Parkinson's medication.
Things are different now. I was 27 then. Now I'm 64. I didn't even know what Parkinson's Disease was then. Now I live with it daily. All my close friends were living and we were having wonderful Christian fellowship and ministry together. Now many of them are walking the streets of gold waiting for the arrival of those of us left behind. My investment in heaven is becoming greater as time goes by.
There is something to be said for looking back. However, Paul reminds us in Philippians 3:12-14, that we need to forget what is behind and press on toward the goal to win the prize God has waiting for us. We'll talk about that next time.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
No Parking Zone
Several years ago now I had the privilege of meeting and interviewing a lovely lady named Martha Blackburn. At the time, she was Women's Ministry Director for the Wesleyan Church headquartered in Indianapolis, Indiana.
Martha had been married to a Wesleyan pastor. She and her husband and one son lived and ministered in Indianapolis for many years. Her husband had been afflicted with some type of kidney disease that ultimately took his life while in his early forties, and Martha's life changed completely overnight.
Not only did she lose her husband, but she lost her identity as a pastor's wife. She had worked as a secretary in the church office and felt she must give up that position in order to eliminate any awkwardness for the new pastor coming to replace her husband. So, she lost her job. Her son had just graduated high school. All the arrangements for him to go off to college had been made. Now, instead of three in the house there was one, Martha, alone and broken hearted.
Martha felt she needed to keep her life as normal as possible. That included church attendance. There was no other church she would rather attend than the one she had been involved in for so long, but some Sundays she could not get herself to get up and go. Other Sundays she would go to church only to be reminded of all her losses. On those Sundays she found herself leaving before the service was over, usually in tears.
As time went on, Martha began to realize that she was going down a path of self pity. It was easier to remember all she had lost rather than focus on what God might have in store for her in the future. She began praying, "God, I don't want to park beside my grief." Martha was ready and willing to allow God to heal her broken heart and give her a future filled with blessings she could not yet imagine.
There is an invalid man mentioned in scripture (John 5:1-15) who had parked beside his grief for a very long time, thirty-eight years, to be exact. His parking place was by a pool called Bethesda. It was said that at certain times the water in the pool would be stirred, and the first to enter the water would be healed. Many disabled people came here for healing. After thirty-eight years this man's parking place had become his comfort zone. As long as he stayed by the pool, he appeared to be trying to get better, at the very least. He never was able to get into the water in time to be healed. Of course, it wasn't his fault, so he said, because there was no one to help him get in. So, he parked beside his disability for all those years. Then one day Jesus came along and asked him very pointedly if he wanted to get well. He never really said yes to the question, but Jesus healed him anyway and made that place a no parking zone.
I think sometimes we are much like the man at the pool. We say we want to be healed, but we just lay by the pool nursing our wounds and blaming our circumstances on others. Our afflictions are many; heartbreak, hurt feelings, diseases, disabilities, losses. We have become comfortable with our parking place. It has become our comfort zone. Others have low expectations for us because of where we're parked. We have low expectations for ourselves, as well. We thrive on the pity we receive from others and from ourselves. We hear Jesus asking if we want to get well. We know He is the great healer. But we've become comfortable by the pool. Maybe it's best to just stay there.
Martha found that allowing God to make her grief a no parking zone opened up a whole new world for possibilities for her. She got a new job with a new identity, Director of Women's Ministry for the Wesleyan denomination. God sent a wonderful, godly man into her life whom she fell in love with and married. Her life was exciting and full and blessed!
Jesus may be asking you if you really want to be well. Tell Him you don't want to park where you are. Allow Him to begin the healing process by posting a no parking zone sign in that area of your life. Has someone hurt you? Forgive them and go on! NO PARKING! Have you been rejected and devalued? Your value and worth come from God! NO PARKING! Are you in poor health or disabled and feeling useless? He will teach you how to feel better. He has something you can do in service to Him despite physical circumstances. NO PARKING! Have you backed up on your commitment to God? Repent and go forward with Him. NO PARKING!
God, do not allow us to park in what should be NO PARKING ZONES!
Martha had been married to a Wesleyan pastor. She and her husband and one son lived and ministered in Indianapolis for many years. Her husband had been afflicted with some type of kidney disease that ultimately took his life while in his early forties, and Martha's life changed completely overnight.
Not only did she lose her husband, but she lost her identity as a pastor's wife. She had worked as a secretary in the church office and felt she must give up that position in order to eliminate any awkwardness for the new pastor coming to replace her husband. So, she lost her job. Her son had just graduated high school. All the arrangements for him to go off to college had been made. Now, instead of three in the house there was one, Martha, alone and broken hearted.
Martha felt she needed to keep her life as normal as possible. That included church attendance. There was no other church she would rather attend than the one she had been involved in for so long, but some Sundays she could not get herself to get up and go. Other Sundays she would go to church only to be reminded of all her losses. On those Sundays she found herself leaving before the service was over, usually in tears.
As time went on, Martha began to realize that she was going down a path of self pity. It was easier to remember all she had lost rather than focus on what God might have in store for her in the future. She began praying, "God, I don't want to park beside my grief." Martha was ready and willing to allow God to heal her broken heart and give her a future filled with blessings she could not yet imagine.
There is an invalid man mentioned in scripture (John 5:1-15) who had parked beside his grief for a very long time, thirty-eight years, to be exact. His parking place was by a pool called Bethesda. It was said that at certain times the water in the pool would be stirred, and the first to enter the water would be healed. Many disabled people came here for healing. After thirty-eight years this man's parking place had become his comfort zone. As long as he stayed by the pool, he appeared to be trying to get better, at the very least. He never was able to get into the water in time to be healed. Of course, it wasn't his fault, so he said, because there was no one to help him get in. So, he parked beside his disability for all those years. Then one day Jesus came along and asked him very pointedly if he wanted to get well. He never really said yes to the question, but Jesus healed him anyway and made that place a no parking zone.
I think sometimes we are much like the man at the pool. We say we want to be healed, but we just lay by the pool nursing our wounds and blaming our circumstances on others. Our afflictions are many; heartbreak, hurt feelings, diseases, disabilities, losses. We have become comfortable with our parking place. It has become our comfort zone. Others have low expectations for us because of where we're parked. We have low expectations for ourselves, as well. We thrive on the pity we receive from others and from ourselves. We hear Jesus asking if we want to get well. We know He is the great healer. But we've become comfortable by the pool. Maybe it's best to just stay there.
Martha found that allowing God to make her grief a no parking zone opened up a whole new world for possibilities for her. She got a new job with a new identity, Director of Women's Ministry for the Wesleyan denomination. God sent a wonderful, godly man into her life whom she fell in love with and married. Her life was exciting and full and blessed!
Jesus may be asking you if you really want to be well. Tell Him you don't want to park where you are. Allow Him to begin the healing process by posting a no parking zone sign in that area of your life. Has someone hurt you? Forgive them and go on! NO PARKING! Have you been rejected and devalued? Your value and worth come from God! NO PARKING! Are you in poor health or disabled and feeling useless? He will teach you how to feel better. He has something you can do in service to Him despite physical circumstances. NO PARKING! Have you backed up on your commitment to God? Repent and go forward with Him. NO PARKING!
God, do not allow us to park in what should be NO PARKING ZONES!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
It Runs In the Family
My sister, Ruth, had her second knee replacement yesterday. She just had the first one done in June. She's a better woman than I am! She needs someone there to help her for a week or two as she recuperates, and I am the only person available. Bless her heart! She certainly deserves better! But, I'll do what I can, and we won't worry about the rest. One thing I know I can give her is a great deal of laughter! There has never been a shortage of things to laugh about when Ruth and I are together!
Most of our laughter these days comes from reminiscing about things similar to the things I've shared about my children. For instance, there was the time Ruth and I were upstairs in our bedroom goofing off and making so much noise, mostly laughing, that Dad finally had his fill. He was downstairs in the living room, so it was pretty obvious we had gone to the extreme when the door to the stairway flew open and he yelled from the bottom of the steps, "If I hear anymore noise out of you two girls, I'm going to come up there and give you both a sound spanking!" We knew from experience he could do just that!
It seems there is always one child in a family who doesn't know when to quit. In Randy's family that would be Aaron. In Kevin's family it would be Dan. In Rob's family it would be Jacob. And in Kenny's family, I'd have to say it would probably be Ashley. In my family, that would be ME!
Ruth always knew when enough was enough. She said she was going downstairs before Dad decided to make good on his promised punishment! My first mistake was not following her lead.
Ours was an older home with an enclosed stairway. At the top of the stairs and to the right, was a door that led into the only bathroom in the house. To the left there was a short hallway that led to the bedroom Ruth and I shared. There was a railing from the top of the stairway to the wall leading into that bedroom. Just inside the bedroom door and to the left was a small closet. To the right of the entrance was a wall just wide enough for a double bed to stand. On the other side of the bed was a doorway which led into my parents room. Just inside that door, in their room and to the right, was their closet, then another door leading back into the hallway. The bathroom door was just outside their bedroom and to the left. So, you see, there was a perfect circle from hallway, to bedroom, to bedroom, to hallway, with the bathroom just off sides.
I was still in little girl giggle mode! I would lean over the railing and, in a piercingly shrill voice I would call, "Ruthie!" followed by very loud giggling. After a couple of Ruthies, Dad opened the door and said, "One more time, and I'm coming up there!" He closed the door with force, an indication of his intent! None the less, I thought surely he wouldn't spank me if I did it just one more time, so I leaned over the railing and yelled once more, "Ruthie!" Giggle, giggle!
He meant it! The door opened and my little short, chubby daddy came bounding up those steps like an athlete in top shape! What to do! What to do! I ran! Into the first bedroom, then into the next, my dad in hot pursuit! Back into the hallway and into the first bedroom again. He was gaining on me! Into Mom and Dad's bedroom, then into the hallway again. I needed a break. He was still coming! This time I ran into my bedroom and hopped into the closet. I peeked through the closet door and watched as Dad ran past and into the other bedroom. This time I followed him. Seeing as the closet thing worked so well, I decided to try it again. I followed Dad into his bedroom and jumped into his closet. There I stood barely breathing as I watched him repeatedly run the circle from room, to hallway, to room, and back again. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen!
But, I knew I couldn't stay in that closet forever. And, I knew my dad's temper was not calming down from the exercise. I had to get out of that closet! However, surrender didn't seem like the way to go, either. There was only one place to go --- the bathroom! It had a lock on the door. Well, I guess you could call it a lock. It was one of those hook and eye things, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I darted out of the closet behind my dad, ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Then I huddled down between the sink and the toilet stool. Whatever made me think I had found a place of refuge I will never know!
Dad had to have heard the door shut and lock. I knew the inevitable was coming. I had just enough time to consider if what I had just experienced outside of the bathroom was worth what i was about to endure at my father's hand when he entered the bathroom!. YES! I determined that it certainly was worth it to watch from the closet as my dad ran circles around the upstairs of our house chasing, well, no one!
Before I could even think about unlocking the door, Dad came right through the door! And I received the whipping of my life! Those were the days when spanking was a part of child rearing and actually did some good sometimes! As with every spanking I ever received from my father's hand, this is the ritual we went through. DAD: (spank) "Are you sorry?" ME: "Yes!" DAD: (spank) "Are you ever going to do it again?" ME: "NO!" TRANSLATION: "Yes, I'm sorry I'm being spanked. No, I'm never going to do this particular deed again, but there will no doubt be a next time."
Most of our laughter these days comes from reminiscing about things similar to the things I've shared about my children. For instance, there was the time Ruth and I were upstairs in our bedroom goofing off and making so much noise, mostly laughing, that Dad finally had his fill. He was downstairs in the living room, so it was pretty obvious we had gone to the extreme when the door to the stairway flew open and he yelled from the bottom of the steps, "If I hear anymore noise out of you two girls, I'm going to come up there and give you both a sound spanking!" We knew from experience he could do just that!
It seems there is always one child in a family who doesn't know when to quit. In Randy's family that would be Aaron. In Kevin's family it would be Dan. In Rob's family it would be Jacob. And in Kenny's family, I'd have to say it would probably be Ashley. In my family, that would be ME!
Ruth always knew when enough was enough. She said she was going downstairs before Dad decided to make good on his promised punishment! My first mistake was not following her lead.
Ours was an older home with an enclosed stairway. At the top of the stairs and to the right, was a door that led into the only bathroom in the house. To the left there was a short hallway that led to the bedroom Ruth and I shared. There was a railing from the top of the stairway to the wall leading into that bedroom. Just inside the bedroom door and to the left was a small closet. To the right of the entrance was a wall just wide enough for a double bed to stand. On the other side of the bed was a doorway which led into my parents room. Just inside that door, in their room and to the right, was their closet, then another door leading back into the hallway. The bathroom door was just outside their bedroom and to the left. So, you see, there was a perfect circle from hallway, to bedroom, to bedroom, to hallway, with the bathroom just off sides.
I was still in little girl giggle mode! I would lean over the railing and, in a piercingly shrill voice I would call, "Ruthie!" followed by very loud giggling. After a couple of Ruthies, Dad opened the door and said, "One more time, and I'm coming up there!" He closed the door with force, an indication of his intent! None the less, I thought surely he wouldn't spank me if I did it just one more time, so I leaned over the railing and yelled once more, "Ruthie!" Giggle, giggle!
He meant it! The door opened and my little short, chubby daddy came bounding up those steps like an athlete in top shape! What to do! What to do! I ran! Into the first bedroom, then into the next, my dad in hot pursuit! Back into the hallway and into the first bedroom again. He was gaining on me! Into Mom and Dad's bedroom, then into the hallway again. I needed a break. He was still coming! This time I ran into my bedroom and hopped into the closet. I peeked through the closet door and watched as Dad ran past and into the other bedroom. This time I followed him. Seeing as the closet thing worked so well, I decided to try it again. I followed Dad into his bedroom and jumped into his closet. There I stood barely breathing as I watched him repeatedly run the circle from room, to hallway, to room, and back again. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen!
But, I knew I couldn't stay in that closet forever. And, I knew my dad's temper was not calming down from the exercise. I had to get out of that closet! However, surrender didn't seem like the way to go, either. There was only one place to go --- the bathroom! It had a lock on the door. Well, I guess you could call it a lock. It was one of those hook and eye things, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I darted out of the closet behind my dad, ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Then I huddled down between the sink and the toilet stool. Whatever made me think I had found a place of refuge I will never know!
Dad had to have heard the door shut and lock. I knew the inevitable was coming. I had just enough time to consider if what I had just experienced outside of the bathroom was worth what i was about to endure at my father's hand when he entered the bathroom!. YES! I determined that it certainly was worth it to watch from the closet as my dad ran circles around the upstairs of our house chasing, well, no one!
Before I could even think about unlocking the door, Dad came right through the door! And I received the whipping of my life! Those were the days when spanking was a part of child rearing and actually did some good sometimes! As with every spanking I ever received from my father's hand, this is the ritual we went through. DAD: (spank) "Are you sorry?" ME: "Yes!" DAD: (spank) "Are you ever going to do it again?" ME: "NO!" TRANSLATION: "Yes, I'm sorry I'm being spanked. No, I'm never going to do this particular deed again, but there will no doubt be a next time."
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Great Command To Love
I love my family! I love ice cream of various flavors! I love mildly warm days with lots of sunshine when I can lounge on the patio and watch the world go by! I love warm covers on a cold winter night! I love people who are friendly and people I know love me! Those are just a few of the things I love.
May I add to the list an obnoxious Sunday school child, someone who lies about me, a scruffy looking man who doesn't smell good, or a person who abused me as a child? Wait a minute! I do not see, in any of these, attributes that make them easy to love! It has been said that loving the world is no chore. It is that miserable guy next door who is the problem. Loving God and our neighbor is the very heart of biblical religion and the essence of the Judeo-Christian ethic.
The Ten Commandments are a love command addressed to God's chosen people. He had redeemed them by His grace and made an exclusive claim upon their worship. It was a covenant love; I do something for you, and you do something for me. God would love the people, and the people would love the Lord with all their hearts. God would redeem them from slavery, and the people should have no other gods. The idea was that human love would respond in radical obedience to God's redeeming love. Thus the Great Commandment of Matthew 22 compels us to love the Lord with everything we have and all that we are.
In the unsanctified life, this kind of radical obedience is not possible. An unsanctified heart is an idolatrous heart. God is in the life, but He is not the only god. Martin Luther observed, "Idolatry is the sin of any heart in which God does not rule alone. The lurking self-idolatry of the unsanctified heart creates a host of idols - unholy ambition, greed, lust, and soon -before which we foolishly bow down and waste ourselves."
Part two of the Great Love Commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves. That's good, if our neighbors can stand that much affection! A.K. Braken said, "Some people seem never to have discovered that the world is chiefly populated by others!" Someone else once said that the fellow who is deeply in love with himself should get a divorce!" God is saying, "Divorce yourself from self, and put the good of others above your own good." That includes the unlovable.
In Matthew 5:44, Jesus says, "But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you."
Perfect love is not a feeling. We can't make ourselves love that way. The forgiving love of Christ on Calvary demonstrates for us that kind of love. Jesus, being without sin and the incarnate love of the Father lived out in the flesh, was able to demonstrate that love for us. He made it possible for us to posses perfect love through His atoning sacrifice. A new covenant was instituted through Christ. We receive forgiveness of sin, we receive the witness of the Spirit, and the law is written on our hearts. Total submission to the will of God in our lives, and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, acknowledges God's supremacy and our need for new mercy every morning. It is not perfectionism which leads to legalism, but perfect motive which enables us to fulfill God's perfect plan.
May I add to the list an obnoxious Sunday school child, someone who lies about me, a scruffy looking man who doesn't smell good, or a person who abused me as a child? Wait a minute! I do not see, in any of these, attributes that make them easy to love! It has been said that loving the world is no chore. It is that miserable guy next door who is the problem. Loving God and our neighbor is the very heart of biblical religion and the essence of the Judeo-Christian ethic.
The Ten Commandments are a love command addressed to God's chosen people. He had redeemed them by His grace and made an exclusive claim upon their worship. It was a covenant love; I do something for you, and you do something for me. God would love the people, and the people would love the Lord with all their hearts. God would redeem them from slavery, and the people should have no other gods. The idea was that human love would respond in radical obedience to God's redeeming love. Thus the Great Commandment of Matthew 22 compels us to love the Lord with everything we have and all that we are.
In the unsanctified life, this kind of radical obedience is not possible. An unsanctified heart is an idolatrous heart. God is in the life, but He is not the only god. Martin Luther observed, "Idolatry is the sin of any heart in which God does not rule alone. The lurking self-idolatry of the unsanctified heart creates a host of idols - unholy ambition, greed, lust, and soon -before which we foolishly bow down and waste ourselves."
Part two of the Great Love Commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves. That's good, if our neighbors can stand that much affection! A.K. Braken said, "Some people seem never to have discovered that the world is chiefly populated by others!" Someone else once said that the fellow who is deeply in love with himself should get a divorce!" God is saying, "Divorce yourself from self, and put the good of others above your own good." That includes the unlovable.
In Matthew 5:44, Jesus says, "But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you."
Perfect love is not a feeling. We can't make ourselves love that way. The forgiving love of Christ on Calvary demonstrates for us that kind of love. Jesus, being without sin and the incarnate love of the Father lived out in the flesh, was able to demonstrate that love for us. He made it possible for us to posses perfect love through His atoning sacrifice. A new covenant was instituted through Christ. We receive forgiveness of sin, we receive the witness of the Spirit, and the law is written on our hearts. Total submission to the will of God in our lives, and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, acknowledges God's supremacy and our need for new mercy every morning. It is not perfectionism which leads to legalism, but perfect motive which enables us to fulfill God's perfect plan.
Friday, September 11, 2009
That Darn Cat!
We moved to Rockton in July of 1973. That fall I became very ill and, since we had not yet found a doctor locally, had to return to Rock Island to see my doctor there. I had a serious sinus condition that was affecting my lungs. My doctor checked me over briefly in his office, then sent me directly to the hospital. A specialist was called in to determine the problem and the solution. The treatment turned out to be extensive sinus surgery. Who do you call when you need someone to step in and care for the children at a time like that? Mom, of course.
My parents had moved to Bowie, Texas around the same time we took up residence in Rockton. But Mom was more than willing to make the long trip back to Illinois to take care of her baby's babies for as long as needed.
My only regret in telling this story is the fact that I did not personally witness the scene I am about to describe to you. I do, however, have a very vivid picture in my mind of what must have happened that Sunday morning in the parsonage chapel.
Boys seem to always need, or at least want, a pet of some kind. We had our share of them, although most of ours didn't last too long. At that time our parsonage pet was a kitten. Randy seemed the one who really liked the kitten and took the responsibility of looking after it.
One Sunday, while I was still hospitalized, Mom had all four boys lined up in a pew with her. They were sitting about half way down the aisle from the back of the sanctuary. Mom was sitting mid-pew with Kenny and Robby to her right and Kevin and Randy to her left. My husband had just begun preaching when the kitten, sitting just outside the church door, began crying mournfully. It was becoming quite a distraction, so my mother decided to do something about it. She sent Randy outside to get the cat and put it in the house where its crying could not be heard by the entire congregation. Then he was to come immediately back into the church for the remainder of the service.
Randy was more than happy to oblige! Chasing the cat sounded like a great deal more fun than sitting in church on a beautiful fall Sunday morning. He went, but he didn't come back. Mom waited. Randy still didn't come back. Finally, as much as she hated making any more of a disturbance, she decided she had better go find Randy.
Now, Kevin was between Mom and the center aisle she was headed toward. Kevin was only six years old and had very short legs. When he was sitting back in the pew, his knees bent at the edge of the seat, but his feet would not come anywhere near touching the floor. So, there he sat kicking one leg up and then the other. As Mom stepped in front of Kevin on her way to the aisle, Kevin's leg came up right between her own legs. As she tried her best to step over that leg, the other one came up and caught her between her legs, sending her into a spin. She spun right into the middle of the aisle, teetered this way and that way in an attempt to regain her balance. It was to no avail. Poor Mother found herself sitting flat on the floor, in the center of the aisle, feet extended outward, looking directly into the forlorn face of her pastor son-in-law! She picked herself up, straightened herself out, and headed for the door. At this point she was overjoyed to have Randy as an excuse to leave!
Once in the house, Randy found and the cat quieted down, she thought she was safe from the embarrassment of facing the people who had witnessed her sitting spread eagle in the center aisle. She waited until it seemed the sound of voices in the church had subsided, then she opened the kitchen door. There before her stood the entire congregation wanting to make sure she was okay. She assured them there were no bumps or bruises on her body, but her dignity was badly damaged!
My parents had moved to Bowie, Texas around the same time we took up residence in Rockton. But Mom was more than willing to make the long trip back to Illinois to take care of her baby's babies for as long as needed.
My only regret in telling this story is the fact that I did not personally witness the scene I am about to describe to you. I do, however, have a very vivid picture in my mind of what must have happened that Sunday morning in the parsonage chapel.
Boys seem to always need, or at least want, a pet of some kind. We had our share of them, although most of ours didn't last too long. At that time our parsonage pet was a kitten. Randy seemed the one who really liked the kitten and took the responsibility of looking after it.
One Sunday, while I was still hospitalized, Mom had all four boys lined up in a pew with her. They were sitting about half way down the aisle from the back of the sanctuary. Mom was sitting mid-pew with Kenny and Robby to her right and Kevin and Randy to her left. My husband had just begun preaching when the kitten, sitting just outside the church door, began crying mournfully. It was becoming quite a distraction, so my mother decided to do something about it. She sent Randy outside to get the cat and put it in the house where its crying could not be heard by the entire congregation. Then he was to come immediately back into the church for the remainder of the service.
Randy was more than happy to oblige! Chasing the cat sounded like a great deal more fun than sitting in church on a beautiful fall Sunday morning. He went, but he didn't come back. Mom waited. Randy still didn't come back. Finally, as much as she hated making any more of a disturbance, she decided she had better go find Randy.
Now, Kevin was between Mom and the center aisle she was headed toward. Kevin was only six years old and had very short legs. When he was sitting back in the pew, his knees bent at the edge of the seat, but his feet would not come anywhere near touching the floor. So, there he sat kicking one leg up and then the other. As Mom stepped in front of Kevin on her way to the aisle, Kevin's leg came up right between her own legs. As she tried her best to step over that leg, the other one came up and caught her between her legs, sending her into a spin. She spun right into the middle of the aisle, teetered this way and that way in an attempt to regain her balance. It was to no avail. Poor Mother found herself sitting flat on the floor, in the center of the aisle, feet extended outward, looking directly into the forlorn face of her pastor son-in-law! She picked herself up, straightened herself out, and headed for the door. At this point she was overjoyed to have Randy as an excuse to leave!
Once in the house, Randy found and the cat quieted down, she thought she was safe from the embarrassment of facing the people who had witnessed her sitting spread eagle in the center aisle. She waited until it seemed the sound of voices in the church had subsided, then she opened the kitchen door. There before her stood the entire congregation wanting to make sure she was okay. She assured them there were no bumps or bruises on her body, but her dignity was badly damaged!
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