Mary, Did You?

As the days turned into weeks that grew into years, Mary, did you ever doubt the message first whispered?  Did you doubt you could be the Favored One, chosen to bear the very Son of God?  As the years passed, did you gaze at the man-child in your care and question a faulty memory, a distant promise, a sacred kingdom of no end? 

Mary, as you cared for him, did you know of the pain to come?  Did you cling ferociously, unwilling to surrender to the unbearable thought of losing a child, this child?  Did doubt ever flood your mind, concealing the covering of a faraway spirit and leaving you with a mere mortal you called your own? 

In the midst of anxiety and maddening chaos of missing a child, did you feel pride at finding yours in His Father's house, amazing the teachers with His understanding?  

Mary, did you ever, even once, forget He was who He was?

Did you recognize the first glint in His eyes of knowledge beyond our comprehension?  Did you simply see Him as your flesh or did His spirit transcend human form to your ordinary eyes?

As you treasured all things in your heart, did you comprehend the meaning of salvation through your son...or the degrading and horrific sacrifice which would bring it to fruition?  

Mary, did you truly know? 

One of my favorite renditions

My Tapestry

A soap opera junkie...me?  Off and on during my years, I have become enamored, sadly, to one soap or another.  My one and only left is Days of Our Lives.  I quickly became enmeshed in their lives, recording the episode to watch at night.  Impatient at times with the exaggerated slowness of events unfolding, the time came when I could ignore no longer the emptiness of their lives, the shallowness of their characters and the immoral fiber strung through each viewing.  As my husband so aptly put one night (sometimes he had to endure the episode while trying to sleep), "people are never happy on that show and they never work!"

At times, the producer of this show would recap - showing old footage and using clips that reminded you of who this or that person used to be, who they were married to, and what terrible storms they had weathered.  The characters usually remain true throughout, and past deeds convince you of his/her probable course in life.  Their lives are lived before you showing every color, every vibrant hue...and every dark thread.

It is the dark color, this deepening of void that attracts...recognizing the lure of forbidden while anticipating the reaction when faced with dire consequences.  It is this darkness that can compel, spellbind, delude, and slowly but eventually acclimate you to immorality.  

This darkness is not exclusive to soap operas.  From family members who relentlessly pursue the dangerous course of their lives, to fellow workers indulging in the drugs of life to fill empty hours and shallow desires.  From T.V. shows to reality, the present culture weaves its treacherous whims as destiny...a pattern we can mimic or reject, pursue or turn from.  

But then the episode ends, the deceit revealed, and the end in sight...unless the writer of their lives invents a new thread.

There are threads woven in my life that I had rather pull out, discard...pretend it didn't exist.  But pretending is only that, and I am faced with the life of me, dotted with ill-chosen threads, this tapestry of life that is bound to my being, ultimately shaped to His good! 

The thread woven in me is encased in a mercy quite beyond my comprehension. Despite my unworthiness, there is a Master Weaver who blots out my transgressions and turns my life of threads into a soul devoted to Him, thankful for His grace and His faithfulness.  Thank you, Jehovah God, for your mercy and grace, for the sacrifice of Your Son.  May your glory shine through each of us, reflecting your love!

The Tapestry

A missionary was traveling in the Far East
 when he came across a booth in a market place
It was a tapestry maker’s booth.
As he walked by he saw a strange sight. 
There appeared in the tapestry almost by magic , 
and the missionary asked his guide for an explanation. 

“The man you see,” said the guide, “Is a master weaver. 
He is speaking to his apprentice 
behind the loom telling him what color thread to use and where to put it.
 Only the weaver knows the entire design, so it is vital that the apprentice do 
exactly as the master commands.” 

“Does the apprentice ever make a mistake?’ asked the missionary. 

“Of course. But the weaver is a very kind man in this case and
 he will rarely have the boy take out the thread.
 Instead, being a great artist, he simply works the mistake in the design.”

The Wrong Remodel

Age transforms not only the body but the inward parts as well.  Mind and heart, surviving the beating over the years, has gained in strength yet more fragile than ever.  Compassion rules where individuality formerly presided.

Priorities have refocused, rearranged, and settled.

Life's urgings have transcended the material and focused on spiritual.  

Life changes.

Until it doesn't.

It is those moments of emotional explosion that disrupt the peace which has come fitfully throughout but valued in its total immersion of soul and spirit. That peace comes with maturity and gifted from God.

But ineptitude and incompetence and plain ole mistakes make an appearance. Then peace is shattered, sleep is disturbed, and the body suffers.  

There are lofty dreams in the beginnings of remodel.  Images of beauty, efficiency, and family gatherings happily presiding, flood the mind and fuel the idealistic life.  Hours of effort, labor and resources are extended...until time drags and the absence of a kitchen sink looms large in the mind and the smell of scrambled eggs and bacon become a distant memory.

Disappointments begin appearing in teams of threes.  Colors appear untrue and disillusionment sets in. Attitude starts a downward slide...and attitude affects everything.

A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

(Proverbs 17:22 ESV)

Perfection in worldly form is vain...it simply does not exist.  How one responds to this disappointment depends entirely on the spirit within and from whom it reflects. 

Father, help me to remember the life I want to be focused on, that the material things of this life may be enjoyable for a little while, but eternal is my goal.  Help me to be gracious in the face of disappointments, remembering that we are all vulnerable to mistakes. Please bless each and every person walking in and out of my life at this point in time, and may their hearts be turned to you.  For it is not the body that endures but the soul.  You alone have remodeled my heart, and upon that I want to invest and share.  Thank you, Father, for a new day, another opportunity to praise your holy name, giving thanks for Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.  Amen.

The Threshing Floor

Sometimes the process of living can be exhausting.  Learning through mistakes, spreading wings without getting scorched from the fires, the falls, bumps and bruises mark our path.  Pain, joy, the beauty seen through the ugly...all leave images in our minds.

The world is one big threshing floor, constantly filtering the strong from the weak, the high achievers from the sloths, the good from the bad.  Not to be avoided, that floor is where we walk, where we reside.  

It is the separating, you see, the winnowing away of the undesirables that bring the anguish, because it illuminates the disparity, the utter grief that only knowledge and confession can bring to fruition. 

Without the threshing floors, humility would be forever hidden from my sight. Self-importance would build high within me; self-sufficiency would be my honor and pride.  Communication with others would recede to oblivion for my needs would be covered by my own abilities.  Any leadership skills I possess would be tarnished and made weak. 

 "I have learned through the lives of great leaders that greatness comes from humility and being at times, self-effacing."  ~ Patrick Daniel 

Oh, there have been many threshing floors in my life and the expectation of more in the future is high. Resenting that thought, my heart is at once struck with the lowliness of my faults, the utter failure to be perfect in God's sight.

I would that He have no occasion to bring me here again.  I would that finally and forever His spirit would live so strongly in me that my walk would be blameless.

Then life interrupts, the world intrudes, my attention is grabbed, my guard let down.  Silently and stealthy come the selfish desires and controlling attitudes, and sometimes, I am drawn in.  

Thankfully, our faithful God will never leave me; and therefore, the threshing floor is brought anew and the lessons relearned, the faith revived, His truths refortified in my heart, and I live again for Him.

The process can be brutal but the end result is pure. 

But they do not know the thoughts of the Lord; they do not understand his plan, that he has gathered them like sheaves to the threshing floor. (Micah 4:12) 

Recognize your threshing floors, welcome them for the cleansing they provide. Endure and learn, because the maturity in Christ cannot continue until the humility of our lives is perceived and encouraged, until we recognize that this life is meant to live together, loving one another as He has also loved us.

Mourning the Loss

My bed became a living thing, enveloping me into its cozyness, fitting like a glove.  Quite a change from the dorm room sleeping thingy, with poster board taped to the window, obliterating the security lights outside.

My carpeted floor was soothing to tired, swollen feet, and I delighted in the feel and texture.  

The trip home had overflowed with thoughts of love, of friendship, of laughter, of the sheer joy of being with God's people.  My heart was filled up with God's spirit, rejuvenated with the passion and wisdom that only comes from His Word. Thank you, Lord, for these servants of yours who take time to share with us, to teach us, these servants who care for others' souls. 

Because soul loss is real, reaching from distant corners and steadily eroding the vitality and joy coming from the God knowledge, the God love.  Life is so busy, we are hardly aware of the change...the going away. But we heed the call of God's Spirit, and we look for opportunities to revive our hearts, our souls.

Remedies abound in the community of believers, and we learn to grasp at the touch, sound and intimacy of love flowing from our Christian brothers and sisters.  

So we schedule, we prepare, and we anticipate the gatherings.  We gather in the spirit of oneness, with devoted intent and concentration on things that are not of this world.  And we are blessed, we learn, we mature, and we take with us what we can pass on to others.  We worship, we sing with abandon and envision the beauty of a singing heaven.  And it is well with my soul.

After 40 plus years, the last meeting of Christian Training Series at Freed Hardeman University is over, the event not to be held again.  But the benefits will endure because the love upon what it was established is our God's love. The friendships will remain, the memories special, and the lessons we've heard will be shared again and again.  

I am grateful that God's people care enough to nourish others, to spend their time and effort to help grow our souls into the likeness of Christ.  I am especially thankful to Sam and Phyllis Hester for loving us, working for us, loving God and his church.  

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" (Romans 10:14-15)

There's Always a Blessing...

It's sometimes the smallest gesture, the fewest of words, the tiniest intent that floods the heart, swells the joy and burst in thanksgiving!  It is a renewed awareness of the power of prayer.  Old story for some, but the constant swirl, the continuing chaos of our lives, the uncontrollable actions of others can plummet the zeal and existence becomes tiresome and weary. 

And we pray.  And we plead.  And we cry.  Until our hearts are empty of words but full of grief, we pray our troubles out and lay them at His feet.  

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers,[a] what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? 48 You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.  (Matthew 5:43-48)

You see, It is a terrible situation, full of stress, uncertainty and depression.  Fighting it daily, losing it daily, with nowhere to turn for relief.  This world just cannot provide it, cannot sustain us, cannot grow us forward into the image God wants us to be.  

Believing can, doing can, trusting can.

And so we pray.  And we earnestly tune our hearts into the love that God has for all his children, and we pray honestly and simply that our enemies be blessed.  We pray their hearts be right with God, that they can have compassion for the one they are treating harshly, and most of all, that their souls be complete with the love, grace and mercy that our Creator extends to us all.

And a new day begins, with kind instruction, a softened attitude.  And a new day ends, with a hug and words that say, Good Job!  Small things, tiny steps, but nourishing the soul, lightening our steps, and strengthening us to strive for better days still.

Lord, you are our comfort, our stay in trouble.  You are our refuge and all hope is found in you alone.  Let your words be forever our guide, for they are true and ageless.  Let us walk in your light, loving our enemies because they, too, belong to you!  To God be the glory! 

For This is Joy!

Have you ever looked joy right in the face?  Or do you recognize it where you are the most uncomfortable, the most reserved, in the most tentative, unsure moments of your life?  Do you look for joy?

Freedom is exhilarating, catching you unaware, and the joy creeps up from the bottom, until you are stretching your arms open wide and the heart is stretched to its limits, and you honestly don't know whether to laugh or to cry! It is at that point that the joy overflows and gratefulness is at the full, and you LOVE!  

We women...we toil, we lament, we worry, we scheme, we crave and we cave. And when the pressures mount to levels we cannot even envision, we find our spiritual selves have a life of their own and maneuver our steps toward peace, bonding, rising to the surface in order to breathe...with those we trust, love and know in our heart of hearts that we are one, we are kin, we are sisters.

To my sisters, your heart is safe with me, your dreams are cherished, your wounds are covered in prayer...your souls are beautifully adorned in God's grace, and I love you beyond measure. 

The good Lord knew we would have troubles and knew we needed family.  He gave me you!