We each have a life story, penned without ink, read by the people around us. Who's writing your story?

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Back to Bethlehem - Part 4

Although Christmas 2019 is behind us, can we take one last lingering look at the little town of Bethlehem? This tiny village was a place of wonder, a place of worship, and also a place of warning

God knew what Herod was up to even though the wise men did not. He warned them not to return to Herod. They didn’t insist on their own plan. They didn’t try to change Herod’s mind. With humility, the mysterious Magi obediently and quietly slipped out of the country another way, never to be heard from again.

God, ever watchful of His Son, also warned Joseph in a dream. "Flee to Egypt! Herod is about to search for the child to destroy him” (Matthew 2:13). Joseph gathered the family together by night and headed south on a journey that would take them over 100 miles to safety. 

Not long after, Bethlehem became a place of weeping


Herod must have been very insecure to allow an 800-year-old obscure prophecy and an unknown infant to upset him to the point of murdering babies and toddlers. He was furiously enraged when the wise men foiled his plan - and had all the male children under two years old in the region of Bethlehem killed. Cruel and ruthless killings. Babies ripped out of their mother’s arms by soldiers with swords. Screams of anguish long to be remembered. Do mothers ever get over the death of a child? Especially when murdered in cold blood? Tragic.

But the story doesn’t end here. 


Thirty years went by . . . enough time for a 20-year-old shepherd to turn 50. When Jesus began His public ministry, did some of those same shepherds suspect that this teacher, who spoke with authority, was the grown-up infant they had discovered in a manger in Bethlehem so many years before? Did they witness the healings? Did they hear of the feeding of the 5000 or the Sermon on the Mount? Where they among those who believed?

What God began in a small town in Judea named Bethlehem, He finished on a hill outside of nearby Jerusalem. Three days later, the resurrection of Jesus made Bethlehem a place of winning! For this was the mircle that made it possible for our sins to be forever forgiven and for death to be swallowed up in victory!

From the baby in the manger to a risen Savior, Jesus offers us abundant life now and eternal life forever. “Thanks be unto God for His precious, inexpressible, indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15 AMPC).

Saturday, December 21, 2019

Back to Bethlehem - Part 3


      Bethlehem . . . a place of wonder and a place of worship. When we worship, we ascribe worth to someone.   

          Matthew tells the story of the wise men, the Magi: magicians, astronomers, astrologers – possibly from Persia whose knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures could be traced back to the time of Daniel (5:11). These men often served in the royal court throughout the near eastern world as advisors. A strange and curious story, would you agree? With intention and determination, they follow a mysterious star all the way to Jerusalem and ask, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2:2). How did they know?
This caused no small stir! King Herod gathered all the Jewish religious leaders together and asked them where the Messiah was to be born. They knew right away. Micah, the prophet who wrote eight centuries before, had made it clear: Bethlehem.

Herod secretly sent the wise men to Bethlehem. And already in his evil mind, a carefully crafted plan began to take shape to eliminate this potential threat to his throne.

As the wise men went on their way, the star went before them and came to rest over the place where the child was. They “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.” Presumably, they had been seeking and traveling miles and miles for up to two years. What a venture!! The purpose of their journey was about to come to fruition! They came into the house and fell down and worshiped the little boy who they knew was the king of the Jews. Imagine the scene. Men of prominence in a little house in Bethlehem. And then they opened their treasure bags and offered Him gifts. 

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were standard gifts to honor a king. These valuable gifts, full of significance, were given in an act of worship and demonstrated their belief in Jesus' deity.

True Worship goes beyond wonder to great joy as we ascribe worth to the Deity whose wonderful plan for the ages includes you and me. Will we humbly bow down and worship the newborn King this Christmas? Will we yield ourselves and our gifts to Him? 

Perhaps you’ve taught your preschoolers this little poem: 
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I’d bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man, I’d do my part.
What can I give Him? I’ll give Him my heart.
Man looks on the outward appearance, the sparkle, the preparations, the food and gifts and all the rest, but God desires our hearts.

Saturday, December 14, 2019

Back to Bethlehem - Part 2

"Will you come back to Bethlehem with me?"  (From Part 1)

Bethlehem (House of Bread) was a small village 5 miles south of Jerusalem, a grain-producing region which began as an early Canaanite settlement on a caravan route. In Genesis 35, we learn that this town was the burial site of Rachel. During the period of the Judges, Bethlehem was the home of Ruth and Boaz, who were the great-grandparents of King David. David’s family lived there, and he was anointed king there. Thus the Scriptures refer to this town as the City of David.

Although there are other locations also attached to the Christmas narrative, it’s in this seemingly insignificant town where we place our focus. 

      Bethlehem was a Place of Wonder – of amazement, awe, admiration, astonishment.

Luke gives an account of the shepherds, whose job it was to care for the sheep, many of which were used in the temple sacrifices in nearby Jerusalem. 

Can you imagine the scene? An ordinary night . . . the sheep had settled down and their keepers were gathered around the campfires. All of a sudden, an angel appears in the night sky with the glory of the Lord all around. No wonder they were terrified (2:9)! But they still managed to hear the message loud and clear: fear not, good news, great joy, for all people, the birth of a Savior, the Messiah, the Lord (spoke of deity). The angel gave them specific directions of how they could find this baby. And then . . .What would it have been like to hear an army of angels praising God in unison? “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” (2:14).

The shepherds hurried to Bethlehem and searched until they found the baby wrapped up tight in the most unlikely of places - a manger. And there were His parents just as the angel had said. What a moment! I imagine their story bubbled out as Mary and Joseph eagerly hung on to every word, perhaps a confirmation to them that God’s plan was, indeed, unfolding just as it was meant to be. 

The shepherds “made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child.” Can you imagine the band of shepherds traipsing through the streets of Bethlehem, as dawn broke, telling everybody they saw in this busy little town: “The Messiah has been born!” Messiah! The very word breathed hope to these Jewish people under Roman rule. How they longed for their Messiah. “And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them” (2:18). They were astounded. They marveled.   

Have we lost the wonder of Bethlehem? The wonder of the miracle baby in the manger? The wonder of the Word being made flesh to dwell among us?

Over the course of Jesus’ life, many people wondered. We’re told that his parents marveled at the temple soon after His birth after hearing what Simeon said about Him: He would be a light to the Gentiles and glory to Israel. Twelve years later, they found the missing Son of God in Jerusalem. Remember Jesus’ words? “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:33; 48-49). Of course, they were amazed!  

Throughout Jesus’ ministry, many others were astonished, but not all of them believed. People in his home town (Luke 4:22-30). Many of those he taught (Luke 9:43-45; 11:14f; 20:26). Even His own disciples had weak faith (Luke 8:22-25).

This leads me to think that we can wonder without worship but we can’t truly worship without wonder.

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Back to Bethlehem - Part 1

This week, I had the privilege of speaking at the Ladies' Christmas Tea at the Montrose Bible Conference. We had a delightful time . . . music of the season, Scripture reading, a wonderful lunch/tea along with a talk from God's Word. Throughout the next several posts, I'll be sharing some thoughts from this event. So stay tuned!

We began our time together with a story, a story that is meaningful to me because my mom wrote it, and the little girl in the story is my youngest daughter. 


BACK TO BETHLEHEM
By Lillian M. Ewert

Just like a pre-programmed clock, the question came every day. “Is it Christmas yet?” Our granddaughter Elisabeth, age 3, anticipated something she could not remember experiencing. The Christmas tree, the pretty lights, and the wooden manger scene caused her excitement to mount with each passing day.

Christmas finally dawned. The family gathering at our house always included a Christmas play presented by all the grandchildren which I enjoyed directing. The adults provided the appreciative audience. However, changes had occurred over the years. Some of the grandchildren could not be there and the adult audience had dwindled considerably.  Elisabeth’s teenaged sisters no longer looked forward to wearing bathrobes and angel wings. I wrestled with the idea of giving up the Christmas play but struggled to find a fitting substitute to help us focus on the Savior’s birth. As I watched Elisabeth at play, an idea began to stir in my mind.



“Elisabeth, would you like to be Mary and put Baby Jesus in the manger?” I asked.
Elisabeth’s eyes lit up as she took my hand and we went into the bedroom to get ready.  “Grammy, you be Joseph,” she said. I pinned a blanket around Elisabeth’s shoulders and tied a scarf around her head. I placed the Baby Jesus, wrapped in strips of cloth, into her arms and together we stepped into the living room and slowly walked to the manger. Carefully Baby Jesus was placed in the bed of artificial straw. Mary and Joseph each kneeled beside the manger to admire the Baby. The family began to sing familiar Christmas carols previously taught by Elisabeth’s mother. Sometimes the Baby would be picked up and gently rocked and placed back in the manger. Elisabeth’s eyes shone as she lived out the story that had become so familiar to her in recent days. It became obvious that she loved her role as Mary when she kept her costume on the rest of the day.



As the day drew to a close, the adults remained at the table to talk while Elisabeth, who had been excused, played with her toys in the living room. Before long, I felt a tap on my shoulder and a little voice said, “Joseph, will you come back to Bethlehem with me?” Back to Bethlehem. “A little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6).


In the next few weeks, let's take Elisabeth's lead and find our way back to Bethlehem.


Sunday, November 10, 2019

A Review of the Basics

This week, I went back to school.


Well, for a few hours anyway. I joined a classroom of seniors at AAA in Dickson City for a Mature Driving Class for those 55 and over. Not only does taking this class reduce my car insurance premium by 5% but is tailored to meet the needs of those of us who are aging. I found it very helpful.

Here are a few things I learned:

  • Drive with your headlights on at all times, regardless of the time of day.
  • A driver's hands should be positioned at or between the 9 & 3 and 8 & 4 positions on the steering wheel.
  • By age 60, drivers need three times as much light to see as they did at age 20.
  • Incidents of road rage increased 66% from 2017 to 2018.
  • If you take your eyes off the road for just four seconds while traveling 60-65 mph, you travel 100 yards during that time (the length of a football field). Taking your eyes off the road is virtually the same as driving blindfolded!
As one of the youngest in the class, the thing that impressed me was the teachable-ness of the class members.




We never know it all. Guidelines change. Cars change. We change. This rings true in other areas besides driving. We require a review of the basics and would benefit from a refresher course. We need a few reminders.

In his second letter, the apostle Peter wrote, "Therefore I intend always to remind you of these qualities (from verses 5-7), though you know them and are established in the truth that you have" (2 Peter 1:12). And what were these qualities? Faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection, and love. And they come with a promise: "If you practice these qualities you will never fall" (verse10). 

If we're not intentional in our focus, how easy to find ourselves absorbed in our own interests, in our disappointments, and in our shortcomings instead of "[making] every effort" to incorporate the characteristics listed in Peter's letter. Maybe this is a good time for all of us to go back to school for a refresher course - with a teachable spirit, knowing God gives us His grace in all things. 



*Photos from bing.com/images/free to use

Thursday, October 17, 2019

An Old Bulletin Board with a New Purpose

I knew we still had it somewhere . . . a chalk board on one side and a flannel/bulletin board on the other, surrounded by a wooden frame. My husband made it as a college student, a project for a class called "Audio-Visual Aids" sometime during the years of overhead projectors, cassette recorders, and record players. Sure enough. I found it behind the attic door, along with a pocket chart, a flip chart, and some letter patterns of various styles and sizes.

Back in the day, Barry and I used it to teach flannel graph lessons to Sunday school children. Later, when our daughters were home sick on a Sunday, I'd pull it out. We'd have our own flannel graph story of David and his sheep or Queen Esther or Jesus blessing the children. First, I would tell the story and move the figures, and then it would be their turn. They loved it.

Every Wenesday evening, I host a ladies' Bible study. This past summer, when our leader and I met to brainstorm some new ideas for the fall, she wondered aloud about using a bulletin board to display our prayer requests. Bingo! I had just what we needed! Once more, I dragged it down from the attic and dusted it off. On the left side, I pinned up the title: ASKING GOD FOR . . . On the right side, THANKING GOD FOR . . .

When the ladies arrive, the first thing we do is post our prayer requests and praises. Often, we move a request over to the right. We've seen answers like God supplying a wonderful housing option for a daughter in another state. The safe delivery of twins - a neice and a nephew. Grace to manage relationships and time and unexpected trials. Already we have seen God working in our circumstances and, more importantly, in our hearts. One evening, we gathered around in a "huddle," arm in arm, (Our leader is a coach!) and thanked God for His blessings. A simple exercise, but it touched me deeply. 

This week, we lifted our hands as we prayed. I'm not usually so demonstrative publically, but again, tears wet my cheeks. Coupled with our study of 1 Peter ("Real Grace for Real Life"), our times of prayer have been meaningful. The community we share offers encouragement and just the right amount of accountability. 

So, if you have an old bulletin board in your attic, consider dusting it off and re-purposing it. God graciously hears our voices and our hearts. He's always working!

Sunday, September 22, 2019

Hope for the Harvest

Do you have a garden? If so, what crops have you been harvesting?

Earlier this summer, I enjoyed picking my own chives, rhubarb, blueberries, raspberries, and more recently tomatoes, white onions, and red cabbage. As the leaves begin to showcase their colors, I've also been gathering squash and apples from a local farm market. There's something satisfying about harvesting the fruit of our labor. From the planting to the weeding to the watering to the gathering, it's an earthy experience, to be sure!

This past Friday evening, my small group shared fall harvest dishes. We all sampled each one and compared notes about our gardens. Many around the table had little children, so I (as the grandmother of the group) enjoyed their young enthusiasm. 

Also this weekend, I helped a friend with an estate sale. Her mom, now in an assisted living facility, has lived in the house since 1976. It boasted vintage dishes and clocks, old records and turntables, games and decorations, furniture and linens, all on display in every room of the house. My "assigned" place included the upstairs, where I answered questions and helped in any way I could. One gentleman was startled when I moved, thinking I was a mannequin for sale!

I also heard bits and pieces of conversation as lines of collectors, couples, and families made their way through the house and up the stairs, hands full of treasures. They talked about their grandmother's similar ivory brush and mirror set or commented on the vintage toddler dresses from the 1950s. Many admitted garage-saling was a ritual they enjoyed - even though they already had a house full of "stuff" and really should have a sale of their own.

So, what do baskets of vegetables and an estate sale have in common? I've been thinking . . . gathering the harvest represents the culmination of our gardening efforts when we finally enjoy some tasty rewards. In much more significant ways, we've been sowing seeds for a lifetime. At the end of the season of our lives, we will harvest what we planted. It's not about all we accumulate, the "stuff" of life that will just be passed on. King Solomon wrote, "One who sows righteousness gets a sure reward" (Proverbs 11:18). Paul talks about "the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ" (Philippians 1:11). 

"Whatever one sows, that will he also reap . . . " (Galatians 6:7). I hope we will faithfully plant and water Christ's righteousness as we live out each day - with the assurance of reaping a harvest of blessing when we see Jesus. Something to consider in this lovely season of harvest.

Friday, August 30, 2019

What's the Point?

Do you read the obituaries? 

I only get the newspaper on Saturdays and Sundays, but I do find the death notices and skim each one. Maybe it's a sign of getting older myself? I usually note the age of the person listed and, if it's mentioned, the circumstances surrounding his or her passing . . . a brief illness, a long battle with cancer, a car accident. 



Recently, several in my circles have lost spouses, siblings, or parents. When I heard the news, I felt the same way as when I walk to the cemetery and happen to see a fresh grave with flowers laid on top. It saddens me. A life lived. A life gone . . . so quickly. Reminds me of the book of Ecclesiastes where the writer talks about the vanity of a life that is soon snuffed out.

The melancholy part of me grieves. I feel unsettled . . . and vulnerable.

There's a little phrase tucked in one of Paul's sermons in Acts 13 that I go back to often. It offers hope and focus, especially when, in our more human moments, we might be tempted to wonder, "What's the point if we all die and after a while nobody remembers us anyway?"

Here's the verse: "David, after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep and was laid with his fathers . . ." (Verse 36). 

Did you see it? Yes, David lived and died, but he also served God's purpose in his own generation! He was a man after God's heart who gave himself to his contemporaries in multiple ways . . . from caring for the family's flock of sheep to governing the nation of Israel. He wasn't perfect, yet with intention, he fulfilled God's purposes for him and those under his influence.  

Three millenniums later, we walk this earth to live out the same objective as David. To faithfully serve God's purposes (not ours) in our own circle of influence, for this generation - for the glory of God. 

So the next time we read the obituaries in the paper, let them remind us of David's example. A worthy goal. A noble aspiration that sheds a whole new light on life and death. 

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Community . . . Quietly Caring

Three police officers walked up my driveway to the patio where I sat with my daughter and her friend after supper. "Is there a Sarah Phillips here?" one of them asked. 

I slowly raised my hand to acknowledge my identity.

"Can we talk with you for a minute?"

The look on my face must have registered concern as I rose from my chair, apron still on, to meet them in the driveway.

"There's no cause for alarm, ma'am," the same man informed me. He then mentioned my dad's name. "Do you know him?"

Turns out, my dad's neighbors were concerned because they hadn't seen him for a few days. They did a little detective work, too . . . mail in the mailbox, car in the garage . . . and then they took action. 

I told the officers of my father's whereabouts - Indiana with my sister. I had checked on his house a couple of times, watered the flowers, and checked the mailbox. He would be home the next day.

In the end, I thanked them for their help. And later, thanked my dad's neighbors for their concern (and gave them my cell number). It meant a lot to me that other people were looking out for my 83-year-old dad. 

There's something to community . . . people quietly caring for people. 
Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:4

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Forty Years . . .





Forty years ago today, 
I married my college sweetheart. 


After dating for over a year and a half and then waiting another two years after our engagement until I finished school, we finally tied the knot on July 14, 1979. We were young and in love, ready to face the world together. Barry taught Social Studies at a growing Christian school, and I practiced my homemaking skills and helped at the school and church. I fondly remember our first little apartment . . . 

When Barry graduated from college, he was debt-free with $40 in his pocket from mowing lawns, just enough to drive home and find work to save a little before the wedding. I still have our first budget, all laid out on a sheet of notebook paper.

We had no idea that God would bless us with three beautiful daughters and three little grandsons, that Barry would serve at Clarks Summit University for 20 years, and that we would be part of the same community for 32 years. 

Every summer around the time of our anniversary, we tried to get away for a couple of days, just the two of us. He always had a plan in place. I wonder what he would have had up his sleeve for our 40th.



Time provides perspective. Looking back, I see the faithfulness of God. 
Unmistakable grace!

July 14, 2012, Sharon's Wedding

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Slapping Mosquitoes

Bzzzzzz. Ouch. Slap. "Gotcha." Another one. Then another. Pretty soon, we feel itchy all over!

Like it or not, this is the season for pesky mosquitoes. Time Magazine says, "Mosquitoes really do prefer some people to others." Those with Type O blood or a certain chemical make-up attract these blood-suckers. Other factors that invite them include dark clothing and movement along with those who are sweaty from exercising. If you're looking for a healthy tick and mosquito repellent, we like this one from Beyond Organics. 

Sometimes life is a little like slapping mosquitoes. First one thing "bites" us, then another, then another. Pretty soon we feel like we're dancing an unwelcome dance that's exhausting. And there's no end in sight. Even in the night, the bzzzzzz of worry keeps us awake.

I've had a few "mosquitoes" buzzing around me lately. An unexpected car repair, several important decisions, the concerns of my kids, and most recently, a diagnosis of osteoporosis. I'm a prime candidate, I know, but the low T-scores still took me by surprise- especially since a healthy diet and exercise have been part of my routine. I've been researching and putting a plan in place to fight back, but the bzzzzz of concern and worry about any number of things follow me around like a hungry mosquito. 

You've been there, too.

There will always be mosquitoes buzzing around, but we have a "worry repellent" available to us. 
God is our refuge and strength, a very present and well proved help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its water roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.
What are your current circumstances? Will you and I trust God with our stories . . . though we face health challenges? Though reasonable expectations turn upside down? Though change brings about uncertainty and unsteady steps? 
Be still. Cease striving, and know that I am God . . . the LORD of hosts is with us. (Psalm 46) 


There is a God in heaven who invites us to His throne . . . to bring to Him all our daunting and pesky problems . . . and to find abundant grace and help in time of need (Daniel 2:28; Hebrews 4:14-16). 

Photos from bing.com/images/freetouse

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

Oops! When God Sees Our Mistakes

When was the last time you made a mistake? 

Mistakes come in all shapes and sizes, but the common denominator is the lack of realization that we have it wrong . . . until it's too late. A simple arithmetic error in the checkbook results in an overdrawn check. We lock our keys in the car and miss an important appointment. If we had treated a physical ailment earlier, we could have prevented present complications. We miss the ounce of prevention that's worth a pound of cure.

We all know that "ugh" feeling. We should have known better, we moan. But, the fact remains, we didn't know. What happened was unintentional. Once again, our humanness got the best of us, and we're left with regrets and even guilt. We missed the mark in appraising situations, making decisions, and/or nurturing relationships. And in the process, we did the less-than-best or even the wrong thing.

I'm reading the Old Testament through this year. It's full of stories, laws, and worship guidelines for God's people, the Israelites. The death and resurrection of Jesus has replaced and fulfilled the sacrificial system and the seeming endless list of rules the people were to follow. I know that. Yet, as I'm reading, I'm looking for themes. Themes that speak to the character of God. And what I'm finding is both sobering and comforting.

God was swift to judge unbelief and disobedience just as He consistently rewarded obedience and faith. Over and over again, the text speaks of forgiveness. 

What popped off the page were the paragraphs that begin with these words, "If you sin unintentionally . . ." (Leviticus 4; Numbers 15:22-29; Hebrews 9:7). God understands our propensity to make mistakes, to display weakness (1 Corinthians 2:1-5),  or to "sin" and not even realize it until later. He made provision for His people's shortcomings in Old Testament times, and He understands our humanness and offers forgiveness today (1 John 1:9). He is strength in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-10) and sovereign over all (Colossians 1:17).

This reminds me of King David's words in Psalm 103: "He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust" (verse 14).

So maybe it's okay to make an innocent mistake, to accept our humanness, to lean into God's gracious perfection. And then when it's needed, to ask forgiveness, to make restitution, and to learn what God has for us in this moment. He is, after all, much bigger than our best efforts . . . and our worst mistakes.



Photos from bling.com/images/free to use

Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Travel Fatigue?

I turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, all the while wrestling my bag over the threshold and into the breezeway. Bone weariness and achy shoulders told the story of a long afternoon of travel in and out of the rain. The familiar surroundings and scent of the house welcomed me home. "Thank you, Lord," I breathed.

I'm sure you, too, can relate to the old saying: It's good to go, and it's good to come home." 

The past few months the Lord has opened up a number of speaking opportunities for me . . . from small groups to women's events and even a quilting retreat. I have been able to share our story and offer encouragement and hope from God's Word with women of all ages. The best part often comes after my talk . . . the hugs, the sharing, and even the tears as we chat about trusting God with our stories. I marvel at the tenacity of many who tell me what they are facing. I pray for them all the way home. What a privilege.

At the same time, travel fatigue is real, especially for homebodies like me! 

Certain Scriptures have popped off the page during the weeks I've been coming and going. Like the verses in John 4: "[Jesus] had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar . . . Jacob's well was there; so Jesus, wearied as he was from his journey, was sitting beside the well (italics added)." In another instance, He slept through a stormy boat ride until his disciples woke Him up (Matthew 8:23-27). 

Later, when Paul the apostle wrote to the believers in Corinth, he reviewed some of his experiences. Right in the middle of his list describing all kinds of dangers, hardships, and shipwrecks, he includes "on frequent journeys" (2 Corinthians 11:24-28).

How blessed we are in the 21st century. The modes of transportation available to us far surpass walking for miles and miles. And we usually don't worry about severe opposition, lurking danger around every corner, hunger, and exposure to the cold. 

There's a bit of comfort knowing that Jesus and Paul also felt bone tired as they traveled and served God. When I think about them I gather courage, purpose, and perspective.

It's been said, "Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap." I'm not usually a nap-taker, but I am grateful for a quiet place to rest and reflect. I sometimes think of the verses in Mark 6 when "the apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, 'Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while'" (Mark 6:30-32).

Jesus understands travel fatigue. He invites us to rest.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

A Flip Flop Kind of Walk?

How many pairs of flip flops do you have?

This is the time of year when we tuck away our sweaters, heavy coats, and gloves, and trade our boots and wool socks for lightweight fabrics, short sleeves, canvas flats, and FLIP FLOPS!

Did you know that flip flop style shoes have been en vogue since at least 4,000 B.C.? They've been worn across the globe and throughout history. Egyptians constructed their flip flops from papyrus and palm leaves. In India, they used wood. Rice straw was used in China and Japan. Tribes in Africa wore rawhide flip flops. The British Museum displays a pair dating back to 1,500 B.C.* This is about the same time Moses discovered the burning bush, and God told him to take off his sandals because he was standing on holy ground.

It appears the flip flop is the definition of timeless fashion for men, women, and children!

But there's a problem. Flip flops don't offer much foot support. A google search revealed that wearing them too much can cause overpronation, flat feet, blisters, ankle sprains, and even broken bones. We like the way our feet look in them, but sometimes our feet aren't too happy. And the older we get, the truer this statement is.


If we're going on a walk or a run, common sense tells us to opt for footwear with more support: the stable, sensible, dependable sneaker!

This reminds me of the New Testament phrase, "We walk by faith, not by sight." The Amplified Bible says it this way, "We regulate our lives and conduct ourselves" by faith.

The walk of faith is not a flip flop kind of walk! It's an intentional, courageous, conviction or belief in God's truth when we see His faithfulness in our lives and when we can't see Him working. That's what faith is: to believe without seeing.

Sometimes, on our walk of faith, we're in a good rhythm. We're making progress. We enjoy many bright and beautiful blessings along the way. Maybe we have a walking buddy to encourage us along. The course is going well.

In other seasons, the path winds uphill and then plunges down. We trip over our own shoe laces. We're out of breath. The ache in our side and pain in our legs feels overwhelming. We fall so far behind, we wonder if it's worth it to keep going. Or maybe it's all we can do to put one foot in front of the other. Or we even find ourselves crawling forward inch by painful inch.

Can you relate?


As many of you know, God has given me the opportunity to write our story down. I'll always remember the day I received Penned Without Ink in the mail and showed it to my writing critique group. As we sat around the table, one of them said, "And look, they even put a cross on the cover." 

A Cross? Where? The rest of us studied that cover for several minutes, and not one of us could see it until Jo Ann pointed it out. Now it's the first thing I see. (Can you find it?) The design artist did a masterful job communicating that in the midst of trauma and crisis, even when we don't see it, we are surrounded by grace. God's grace.

Let's take courage today and lace up our sneakers. We have a God who sees us in our walk of faith. He hears our cries. He surrounds us with His love and care. Even when we can't see Him, He promises never to leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5-6).  


**Photos from bing.com/images/free to use

 

Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Reading Between the Lines

For months now, I've eyed that quiet shelf in my office closet, the third one down, with a lifetime of journals and prayer notebooks arranged in order by date. Over the years I've moved them from place to place as we've repurposed and rearranged, but not once did I crack one open to read the chronicles within.  

If you've followed my journey, you're familiar with my occasional yet repeated references to simplifying and downsizing. I've spent the last four years wading through a lifetime of accumulated "stuff," highly motivated by my desire to spare my children the weight of it all.

It's one thing to toss 1984 homeschool catalogs, donate dozens of VHS documentaries, and find teachers and students who gladly receive Latin and Spanish curriculum. It's quite another to decide what to do with decades of handwritten stories. Stories about family, events, celebrations, school days, worries, fears, regrets, life lessons, and well . . . whatever else happened to come to mind on any given day. Memories recorded in black and white . . . someday to be remembered in living color.


On my birthday last September, I decided it was my job to take care of these volumes in one way or another. In March, I finally mustered up the courage to begin. Page after written page, I read. Sometimes I found myself smiling . . . like the time one of the girls danced around the living room singing, "I can read! I can read!" Or when said daughter couldn't decide on which socks to wear to make her "shoes feel good." Or the day she got her head stuck in a chair at school. Another of them dressed up like Polly Pepper, and at Thanksgiving, a native American, complete with fringe and papoose.

I found the record of when we paid off our house and the season we harvested 49 quarts of strawberries and canned umpteen quarts of tomatoes and pickles. I noted the day when Patches the Guinea pig died and how Daddy helped bury him in the garden under a stone painted yellow. I leafed through the celebratory stories of birthdays and end-of-the-school-year-parties, prayers and baptisms, swimming lessons and family outings.

But lest you think our lives were mostly idyllic, my eyes also traveled over pages of weary fatigue, frustration, busyness, uncertainty, and desperate prayers for wisdom and guidance. I scribbled, "God, where are you? I'm trying so hard. Why does it seem I will never be enough? Please take care of my girls." Tears sprang to my eyes as I laid the book down. 

Can you relate?

I happened to mention my bittersweet experience to a friend who parroted back to me what she and I had talked about in times past. "What is true?" she reminded me. "Read your journals as an act of worship as you recall God's work in your life. Let go of the pages that are no longer beneficial." 

An act of worship. Letting go of the If Onlys leaves room for us to read the grace of God between the lines. His unfailing presence. His steadfast love. His promise of redemption. He brought us through those days . . . the learning days . . . the growing days . . . all for His glory. 

It's been good for me to review my life through my own pen. Humbling, really. Words have a way of representing a more accurate picture than memory. All these years later, I find myself worshipping God with a sweeter appreciation for His faithfulness . . . and for His readiness to listen to the broken, hopeful prayers of a mother's heart. 




Behold, I am doing a new thing . . . 
I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
Isaiah 43:19