To fear, or not to fear, that is the question:

Whether we are called to fear the holy God

Or rest securely in his unfailing love…

            Okay, tempted as I am to continue in verse to match the length of Hamlet’s soliloquy, I think the rest of the content might not parallel well enough to maintain a strong likeness.

            Today, I’m fulfilling the request of a friend who suggested I should write an episode on the fear of God. Recently, she’s been really encouraged by listening to the sermons of Daniel Batarseh, who pastors at Maranatha Bible Church in Chicago, and has also been reading through his book, Let Us Fear Him: Meditations on a Forgotten Truth. Last time I saw her, we read a chapter together before continuing on our way through Anne’s House of Dreams, and I thought it was a well-written book, rich in scriptural truth.

            When my friend made this request, I thought I would start by seeing if I happened to have already written a poem about the fear of God; perhaps I could start from there. What I found instead was that I have written a number of poems that touch on the idea of being unafraid because God is my Lord, and he loves and provides for me but only one that specifically mentions fearing God, though one other does make mention of “fear and trembling”. The latter is actually “Light My Fire” from episode 26, where I say at the start of one stanza, “With fear and trembling / I work with you / in this gift of great salvation”, and then at the end of the poem, “Make me fearless in these battles / Your victory has long been claimed”.

            This is exactly the tension that exists when we consider the fear of God: we are to be in awe of him as the awesome, all-powerful creator and ruler of all, but because he has set his love upon us, those of us who trust in Christ can rest securely in his love.

            So, what was the other poem, the one that specifically mentions the fear of God? That one is called:

Too Far?

     I speak, Lord – no answer

Have I failed you too far?

     I sin while I know you

Does this make light of Christ's scars?

     I love you, I seek you

I fail yet again

     Can I hold to salvation?

Shall you yet call me friend?

     Sin's temptation before me

I still choose what is wrong

     I am tangled in weakness

In grace, make me strong

     I worship, I follow,

I trust all to you

     I stumble, I'm falling

I need you anew

     I gossip, complain

And follow the flesh

     Help me lay this all down,

Find in you what is best

     Oh, Daddy, forgive me

I repent in all truth

     I seek to do better

You know this is sooth

     I cry out to you

In anguish of soul

     I still feel abandoned

Without you, I'm not whole

     Holy God, I do fear you

I shall not trample your grace

     Grant me the strength

To continually seek your face

     Teach me humility

Draw me to you

     Raise me up, Father

Draw near to me too

     I pray for your answer

I wait for your voice

     I find it in joy

As I make an honoring choice

     Your Spirit has led me

I listened, obeyed

     This is my answer

I am sorry I strayed

     Lead me as your child

Take and use these two hands

     Body, heart, mind, and soul,

They are yours to command

     Oh Lord, make me faithful

To walk in your way

     In love, I surrender

Teach me; I'll obey

            To me, this is what the fear of God means – that we are afraid to act outside his will, to walk in disobedience, to make light of the grace we receive through Christ. I wrote this poem while struggling with a sin I just couldn’t quite seem to kick. I had been reading in Hebrews 10 and my conscience was severely pricked by verses 26-29:

_{For if we go on sinning willfully after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, but a terrifying expectation of judgment and the fury of a fire which will consume the adversaries. Anyone who has ignored the Law of Moses is put to death without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much more severe punishment do you think he will deserve who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has regarded as unclean the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has insulted the Spirit of grace?}

This is a big deal, and I’m searching for the words to fully do justice to this truth. Because when we look at the question of whether to fear or not to fear, we are looking at the two forces that swing the human pendulum of legalism versus licentiousness. And as I think about God’s perfect love casting out fear (1 John 4:18) and Jesus warning not to “be afraid of those who kill the body but are unable to kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28), the words that come to mind are from Ecclesiastes: “It is good that you grasp one thing while not letting go of the other” (7:18a). Interestingly enough, if we look at the broader context of the Ecclesiastes snippet, we see:

_{Do not be excessively righteous, and do not be overly wise. Why should you ruin yourself? Do not be excessively wicked, and do not be foolish. Why should you die before your time? It is good that you grasp one thing while not letting go of the other; for one who fears God comes out with both of them.}

(verses 16-18)

            Whew! Okay. So, what do we do with that?

            I want to start by saying that holding on to both fear of God and casting out fear is not holding on to legalism and licentiousness. It is letting go of them both for something infinitely better. Legalism says that it will make rules for itself beyond what God has ordained. Along the way, it eliminates good gifts of God in attempts to avoid temptation. This fails utterly because humans seek happiness, and the more good gifts of God we deny ourselves, the more likely we are to be tempted by paltry substitutes. Licentiousness says that because grace is sufficient and Christ’s blood has covered it, it can do whatever it wants and still trust in receiving the inheritance. This is not true. Jesus states very clearly, “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). And to love God is the first and greatest commandment (Matthew 22:37). If we do not desire to serve and please God, we do not love him, and we are still dying in our sins on our way to eternal judgment.

            I actually think Ecclesiastes 7:16-18 is telling us not to be legalistic (“excessively righteous”) or licentious (“excessively wicked”). If we fear God, we discover a better way.

            What then is this better way, and what does it look like?

            “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, / And the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding” (Proverbs 9:10) – probably the best-known verse about fearing the Lord. But where does that leave us? Are you still wondering what it means to fear the Lord? The Bible has us covered. “The fear of the Lord is to hate evil” (Proverbs 8:13). Deuteronomy 8:6 ties the fear of the Lord to keeping his commandments and walking in his ways. Deuteronomy 10:12 similarly connects the fear of the Lord to walking in his ways, loving him, and serving him with all your heart and soul. Considering these verses along with Jesus’ command to fear God rather than man, we begin to get the picture. Fearing God is desiring to please him more than we desire to please ourselves or any other human. And why? Because of what we more traditionally understand when we think about fear. He is powerful. He is just. And if we disobey him, he has the means and motivation to punish us as we deserve.

            Yikes! Why then might we not fear? After all, 1 John 1:8 tell us that “If we say that we have no sin, we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not in us.” Because a proper fear of the Lord draws us into relationship with him. When we view him rightly, we love him in his holiness and splendor. And because “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, so that He will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

            Once we enter into relationship with God, he becomes our ally. In several places in Exodus and Deuteronomy, the Israelites are commanded not to be afraid because the Lord their God goes with them to fight for them (Exodus 14:14, Deuteronomy 3:22 and 20:4). 2 Timothy 1:6-7 reminds us to “fan into flame the gift of God…for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (ESV). 1 Peter 5:7 instructs us to cast our cares on God because he cares for us.

            How then do we walk in right fear and true love? What will it look like? Romans 5-8 gives us a really solid starting point. We have peace with God through the sacrifice of Christ. Because of his sacrifice, we have been justified in the sight of God. This does not free us to sin but rather frees us from sin in order to be enslaved to righteousness. We are now dead to sin but still struggle with the temptations of our sinful flesh, but we no longer want to serve self. We want to serve God. We set our minds on the Spirit and receive life and peace, finding assurance of God’s love.

            Because we still struggle with temptation, we need to keep passages like Hebrews 10:26-29 and 1 John 3:4-10 in mind. We are not to take Christ’s sacrifice lightly. We are not to abide in sin. The way we retain assurance of salvation is to continue pursuing relationship with God. And we should always be afraid to walk outside of his ways. Several years ago, I heard a pastor compare assurance of salvation to sitting in a chair. You don’t know you’re sitting in a chair because you remember the moment you sat down. You know you’re sitting in a chair because of your posture. You can look down and see the evidence as well as feel the chair supporting you. Similarly, we don’t know we’re saved because we remember the date we confessed Christ as Lord. We know we’re saved because we remain in a posture of faith. Obedience, love, conviction, adoration – these things tell us that we are resting in Christ.

_{Take care, brethren, that there not be in any one of you an evil, unbelieving heart that falls away from the living God. But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is still called “Today,” so that none of you will be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. For we have become partakers of Christ, if we hold fast the beginning of our assurance firm until the end}

Hebrews 3:12-14

            When I think of fear and love, I also think of earthly parenting and discipline. Usually, the best-behaved children are the ones whose parents both love them and discipline them. They know there will be consequences for misbehavior, and this is coupled with a desire to please their parents if their parents’ love has inspired a return of love. Hebrews also addresses this idea. “Furthermore, we had earthly fathers to discipline us, and we respected them; shall we not much rather be subject to the Father of spirits, and live? For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but He disciplines us for our good, so that we may share His holiness” (Hebrews 12:9-10). Just like children can love their parents and yet still choose to be naughty sometimes, we can love God and still stumble in sin. A healthy fear of their parents punishing them helps children to behave. A healthy fear of God helps us to obey too. And the good child does what is right out of a desire to please their parents. As children of God, we also strive to choose what is right out of a desire to please our heavenly father.

            The summary then?

            We should fear God as the ultimate and perfect judge, but if we love him, we should also trust that he will be our protector and provider and that whatever earthly trials we face, our eternal souls are secure in him. We should not reject any of God’s good gifts (1 Timothy 4:4), but we should always “turn away from evil and do good” (1 Peter 3:11).

            “Test yourselves to see if you are in the faith; examine yourselves!” (2 Corinthians 13:5a). “The conclusion, when everything has been heard, is: fear God and keep His commandments, because this applies to every person. For God will bring every act to judgment, everything which is hidden, whether it is good or evil” (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14).

To fear and not to fear; these two rails guard life

We are called to fear the holy God, our judge

And rest securely in his unfailing love

‍

Upheld

             If there’s just one thing I could have you know

From the crown of your head to the tips of your toes

             It would be that God loves you just as you are

With all your faults and with all your scars

             There is no standard you need to reach

To win his love or earn your keep

             Christ paid the fee to set you free

In blood-washed garments, you stand clean

             He doesn’t grow weary in the waiting

Though, for you, the delay may feel frustrating

             He knows his plans from long ago

And loves you far too much to let them go

             He upholds you by his righteous right hand

As you run this race to make him glad

             He will not allow your foot to stumble

He is your present help in any trouble

             So, know his peace amidst your sorrow

He is a gracious, tender Father to follow

             There is no fear in love like this

God’s sovereign plans don’t go amiss

             March on in life with head held high

The King adopted you to draw you nigh

             He’ll guide your path and give you grace

Your privilege forever is to seek his face

            Okay, so this is a serious poem, and I wrote it for a serious reason, but I am internally laughing a bit as I start to write out this episode. Because I actually got to listen to “Beneath the Leaves” (episode 21) recently with the friend for whom I wrote it. She had fallen a little behind on my podcast and wanted to listen to one together while we were visiting. She just randomly happened to pick that one. Or, I suppose more accurately, she picked that one because she does love the forest floor. In any case, after listening to it together, which turned out to be a really neat blessing, she told me that she had just been saying to her mom recently that you have to be careful what you say around me because it might end up on my podcast. She was joking – sort of – but it made me think of a quote from Anne of the Island. A story of Anne’s has been accepted for publication, when the following scene unfolds amongst her housemates:

            _{“Think of having a real live author at Patty’s Place,” said Priscilla.}

            _{“It’s a great responsibility,” said Aunt Jamesina solemnly.}

            _{“Indeed it is,” agreed Pris with equal solemnity. “Authors are kittle cattle. You never know when or how they will break out. Anne may make copy of us.”}

            _{“I meant that the ability to write for the Press was a great responsibility,” said Aunt Jamesina severely, “and I hope Anne realizes, it.”}

            Anyway, I was just talking to the person for whom I wrote this poem about how quite a few people in my life had been mentioned in my podcast, but so far, she hadn’t been. And then, it just so happened that I wrote this poem for her, and as I reread it, I thought that others might be encouraged by the truths in it as well. As I wrote the email that accompanied it, I found that I was preaching to myself as much as I was seeking to build her up. As a result, I was encouraged too, so I’ve decided to pilfer some of the content from my email for this episode. This is the bulk of what I wrote:

_{I am in awe of the incredible love God offers to us. I don't understand how he works, particularly in the arena of prayer. But when I think of how Sunday night saw me sobbing before my Father in pain and turmoil of soul, and last night I was thanking him for the blessing he brought me in conversation with you and with Anna, I am reminded again of how he provides for our needs...even when we're foolish and fickle. How perfect it is that he tells us to call him Father! We are needy little children who get the most ridiculous notions into our heads, and he is a patient and wise father who steadfastly loves us no matter how long it takes us to rest again in obedient trust.}

_{It is foolish of me to think that my life could go to waste if I am truly seeking my Father. It is ungrateful of me to act as though my life holds too little if my personal dreams do not come true. It is selfish of me to want others to give to me the same sorts of things I give to them; I am made to be poured out, and my heavenly Father provides for my needs. He is so generous. While I go around foolish, ungrateful, and selfish, he keeps calling me back and teaching me truths. I hope someday I can learn to see these things in the moment and trust him no matter how many truths about him I imperfectly understand.}

_{In some ways, your struggles and mine look different. But I wonder how different they really are. Humans are performance-oriented. Grace boggles our minds. So, here we sit, simultaneously wondering if we could ever measure up – and knowing that we won't because we can't – and wondering if God will do what we expect/desire of him. Ironic, isn't it? We know we don't deserve anything, yet we have a sense of injustice when we don't get the things we want. Maybe you struggle with the latter part less than I do.}

_{Anyway, I want you to know more deeply than you know anything else that God absolutely loves you. He doesn't love you for anything you have done, save trusting in Christ. You can't diminish his love by falling short of his glory. He knows that change takes time, and unlike us, he knows exactly how long the change will take. He wants our obedience today, and he's not judging us today for last year's mistakes. We cannot thwart God's plans! If God was able to use what Joseph's brothers intended for evil for good, how much more is he able to use what we intend for good for good!}

_{You have today. You have right now. And so do I. We don't have yesterday, and we may not have tomorrow. So, we forget those things which are behind and press toward the mark of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.}

_{And right now, I know these things are beautiful, and I believe that they are true. But tomorrow or next month, these truths may be a little fuzzier in my mind. But we have the opportunity as we walk through life together to remind each other of these things. So let's.}

            Have you noticed how scary obedience can be? I couldn’t tell you anymore how many letters, texts, voice messages, or emails I’ve sent feeling like it was the right thing to do, strongly suspecting God was leading me to do it, and yet feeling fretful once the message was sent. Did I read the situation wrong? Did I overstep my bounds? Will my words not be welcome? I can think of only one instance where my words were not received as I intended. And this time was not that time.

            The most important thing any of us could ever know is that God loves us. Because to know that he loves us, we must know that he is real. And it doesn’t matter how much we understand about the facts of heaven or hell if we don’t know that he loves us. We love him because he loved us first (1 John 4:19), and until we love him, we won’t surrender to him to keep his commandments. And if we’re not surrendered to him as Lord, we’ve missed who he is. And if we’ve missed who he is, we have missed salvation.

            But I wrote this poem for someone I am confident loves God. She knows that God loves her. Why the poem then? Because we forget that God really loves us.

            I rarely listen to comedians, but one I grew up with is Mark Lowry. He sang with the Gaither Vocal Band for a while and recorded some music separately as well. And he wrote the beautiful song, “Mary, Did You Know?” But he’s also pretty funny. As with some of his sillier songs, he mixes truth with humor in his comedy routines. In one of them, he talks about a teacher who told him that God liked him. That was the first time anyone ever told him that God liked him. He knew that God loved him. God had to love him; he is love, after all. But he never realized God liked him. Mark then shares the example for people we love but don’t like of those whose funerals we’ll cry at, but we don’t want to go on vacation with them.

            And we all need to recognize that God’s love is not a love at a distance. That’s what it means that he likes us too. He wants to be near us. He wants to associate with us. That’s why Christ tore the temple veil in two; he wants us to draw close to him.

            I think the trap we often fall into is thinking that God loves us in a big, distant God way. He loves us enough to want to save us from our sins, but maybe we need to get more things straightened out in our lives before he’ll be pleased with us or want to associate with us. But when we put our faith in the resurrected Christ and surrender to his lordship, our lives become hidden in his (Colossians 3:3), and the Father looks on us as he does the Son. And I don’t know how this can be, but he sees in us the righteousness of Christ – even while we’re stumbling. How can the God who sees everything and is perfectly just do that? I don’t know all the details, but I know that it’s love.

            God numbers the hairs on our heads (Matthew 10:30). He knit us together in our mothers’ wombs (Psalm 139:13). He exults over us with loud singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

            Look at the flawed people God loves. If you want a biblical example, just open the Bible and find any of the people he loved. They’re all flawed. Fresh off the ark, Noah got drunk. Abraham slept with the wrong woman. Moses lost his temper. David committed adultery. Peter was inconsistent and doubting. Paul had a “thorn in the flesh”. Do you question whether God loved these people? Did he fail to use them because of their faults?

_{for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.}

_{Then what becomes of our boasting? It is excluded. By what kind of law? By a law of works? No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law.}

Romans 3:23-28

            We want to be able to point at what we’ve done and find confidence there that we are good enough to merit God’s favor, but instead, he offers us grace. He looks on us in compassion as little children and holds out his hands.

            2 Peter 3:8 and Psalm 90:4 remind us that time works differently for God. When God proclaims his name to Moses, he says that he is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). We have our ideas of who we should be right now and how God should be using us, but we sometimes spend a lot of time in the waiting. Consider Noah building the ark, Abraham waiting for Isaac, Joseph being in prison, Moses shepherding in the wilderness, David hiding in a cave. God had big and extraordinary plans for them, and they spent many years in preparation that felt like interminable waiting.

            There are some verses you hear me reference more than others, and Ephesians 2:10 along with Philippians 1:6 are a couple of them. I am so encouraged to know that God has prepared good works for me to walk in and that Jesus is faithful to complete the work he has begun in me. Sometimes people debate whether Jeremiah 29:11 is a promise for New Testament believers or just Old Testament Israelites, but I believe we can be confident that God knows the plans he has for us!

            We do not walk – or run – alone. God himself upholds us by his righteous right hand (Isaiah 41:10). He won’t allow our feet to slip (Psalm 121:3). “God is our refuge and strength, / A very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1).

            We should grieve over our sin. And we should not trample underfoot the grace of God (Hebrews 10:29). But we should also remember that “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

There is no fear in love like this

            “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment” (1 John 4:18). In the perfect love of God, if we have accepted the free gift of Christ, we have no cause to fear because we receive adoption instead of judgment.

_{For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.}

Romans 8:14-17

            So, we seek his face. It is our privilege and our calling. 1 Chronicles 16:10b-11: “Let the heart of those who seek the Lord be glad. / Seek the Lord and His strength; / Seek His face continually.” Psalm 27:8: “When You said, ‘Seek My face,’ my heart said to You, / ‘Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.’” “Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16).

            And as we run this race, remember these words from Philippians 3:12-15:

_{Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, have this attitude; and if in anything you have a different attitude, God will reveal that also to you}

            God’s not stuck on what you did yesterday or last year. He’s focused on right now and what is to come. He has big plans for you, and he doesn’t want you bogged down in yesterday’s mess. His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23).

            So, please know with every fiber of your being that God loves you. And if you’ve waited until now to return that love, make today the day that changes. But for every child of the King, please allow yourself to be upheld by the hand of the near God who likes you as well as loves you. His love is complete and everlasting.

Upheld

             If there’s just one thing I could have you know

From the crown of your head to the tips of your toes

             It would be that God loves you just as you are

With all your faults and with all your scars

             There is no standard you need to reach

To win his love or earn your keep

             Christ paid the fee to set you free

In blood-washed garments, you stand clean

             He doesn’t grow weary in the waiting

Though, for you, the delay may feel frustrating

             He knows his plans from long ago

And loves you far too much to let them go

             He upholds you by his righteous right hand

As you run this race to make him glad

             He will not allow your foot to stumble

He is your present help in any trouble

             So, know his peace amidst your sorrow

He is a gracious, tender Father to follow

             There is no fear in love like this

God’s sovereign plans don’t go amiss

             March on in life with head held high

The King adopted you to draw you nigh

             He’ll guide your path and give you grace

Your privilege forever is to seek his face

‍

Heartbeat of a Lamb

          Life forever calling

Like the heartbeat of a lamb

          The bread and wine are filling

With the confidence—I am

          Not me at all but only him

Alive though he was dead

          Stumbling block of beauty

The base, though he’s the head

          Redemption by confession

Guilty, I’m set free

          This is life abundant

For I love my greatest need

          I’m not sure if it’s because I like poetry or if liking things like this is part of the reason I like poetry, but the ideas of something “forever calling” or specifically a heartbeat having a voice are very appealing to me.

          Life forever calling

Like the heartbeat of a lamb

          What do I mean by saying, “Life forever calling”? Really, I’m getting back again to the idea of life abundant. Life in the sense of simply existing doesn’t really call out – not very loudly, at least. Ephesians 5:29 does say that “no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it,” and most people, when it comes right down to it, don’t actually want to die. Life itself has a certain appeal. But honestly, I think that’s just life contrasted to death. When death is apart from knowing God, it is a thing of fear and uncertainty. And even when we do know God, even if we have confidence that our state after death is better than before, the process can be scary and painful. But abundant life calls out with a promise of life being worth living. The richness and beauty of abundant life is alluring. This is the sound of the heartbeat of a lamb.

          Take a moment to look up pictures of lambs. They are small and darling…and defenseless.

          Though the Israelites probably didn’t realize it at the time, God was prophesying to them of the savior to come when he instituted the Passover, telling his people:

_{On the tenth of this month they are each one to take a lamb for themselves, … Your lamb shall be an unblemished male a year old…You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the same month, then the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel is to kill it at twilight. Moreover, they shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and on the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the flesh that same night, roasted with fire, and they shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs…I will go through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments—I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live; and when I see the blood I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.”}

(Exodus 12:3-13, selected)

          Isaiah prophesies more explicitly in Isaiah 53:7 of the Messiah coming as a lamb: “He was oppressed and He was afflicted, / Yet He did not open His mouth; / Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, / And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, / So He did not open His mouth.”

          This is how Jesus came. He came in humility, having emptied himself. As he was falsely accused, he listened in silence. The only rebuke of any kind recorded in any of the gospels was when Jesus said to Pilate, “[H]e who delivered Me to you has the greater sin” (John 19:11). But what seems to me the more striking comment is when Jesus stands at the place where he would be crucified and prays, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). This is the heart of Jesus, the perfect lamb of God. He intercedes with the Father on our behalf to ask that we be granted forgiveness, though we have sin in our hearts such as would choose to murder God. He came that we may have life and have it abundantly (John 10:10).

          The bread and wine are filling

With the confidence—I am

          Not me at all but only him

Alive though he was dead

          At the meal we commonly refer to as the last supper, Jesus sat down with his disciples to celebrate the Passover with them. Interestingly, he didn’t choose the lamb to be the portion of the meal which would represent him. Instead, he broke the bread – the unleavened bread – and handed it to his disciples, saying, “Take, eat; this is My body” (Matthew 26:26), and then he passed around the wine, commanding, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:27-28). My personal theory on why he chose the bread and wine instead of the lamb was to make this communion meal more accessible to everyone at all times. Bread and wine were common and cheap; sheep were valuable.

          Well before his crucifixion or the last supper, Jesus gave additional insight into this picture of the bread and wine of communion. There is a much-debated verse in John 6 where Jesus says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him” (verses 53-56). Some groups like to interpret these verses as meaning that communion (or the Eucharist) is a requirement of salvation. But I think this is an incorrect understanding of the passage even just from the verses that follow. His disciples grumble, “This is a difficult statement; who can listen to it?” (verse 60), and Jesus responds by saying, in part, “It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing; the words that I have spoken to you are spirit and are life” (verse 63). To me, this is a clear interpretation that spiritual consumption of the true food that Jesus offers is the means of salvation. And even going back to earlier verses in the chapter, this meaning is underscored. There, Jesus tells his followers, “I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst. But I said to you that you have seen Me, and yet do not believe” (verses 35-36). Coming to him is eating of the bread of his body. And believing in him is drinking of his blood. As he is exhorting the Jews to eat and drink of the nourishment which gives eternal life, the fault he finds with them is that they do not believe.

          The alternative, however, is great. We will never hunger or thirst spiritually if we feast on Christ. He instructs, “Do not work for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you, for on Him the Father, God, has set His seal… For the bread of God is that which comes down out of heaven, and gives life to the world” (verses 27, 33).

          This is my confidence. Coming to Christ, believing him, I receive my sufficiency. I am redeemed. I am forgiven. I am adopted. I am an heir. I am being renewed. I am accepted. I am a part of the bride of Christ.

          I could go on with my “I am” statements, but the most amazing thing is that I am these things because of the great I AM – Yahweh, the LORD. “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9). I am “alive together with Christ” (Ephesians 2:5).

          And he is alive though he was dead. I’m going to bet that when you think of Paul, you don’t tend to think of succinctness, but I do think that Paul gives the most succinct rendition of the gospel in 1 Corinthians 15:3-4 when he writes “that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.”

          Stumbling block of beauty

The base, though he’s the head

          In 1 Peter 2, Christ is referred to as “A stone of stumbling and a rock of offense” (verse 8), referencing back to Isaiah 8:14. At a glance, this can be hard to understand. Doesn’t it sound like an insulting description of Christ? But the verse goes on to say, “for they stumble because they are disobedient to the word”. Christ only trips people up when they’re refusing to submit to him and walk in obedience. I think this fits closely with Matthew 10:34, where Christ declares, “Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword”, and then talks about families being set against their own members because of him and how we must love him above all else and be willing to lose our lives for his sake.

          Of course, just a verse earlier (in 1 Peter 2:7), Christ is described as being “the very corner stone”. I like the picture of having a large, well-formed stone sitting steady and unmovable, ready to square a foundation against, to mark the start of a great work. We have the choice to either participate in that work, being “built up as a spiritual house for a holy priesthood” (1 Peter 2:5), or to ignore the cornerstone and continue on our way. But if we choose the latter, we will certainly trip over Christ and eventually come to ruin.

          Christ is the base of the church – its firm foundation. “For no man can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 3:11). Yet, at the same time, he is the head of the church. “[W]e are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, even Christ, from whom the whole body, being fitted and held together by what every joint supplies, according to the proper working of each individual part, causes the growth of the body for the building up of itself in love” (Ephesians 4:15b-16). Christ is our immovable base, the only reliable platform on which to build our lives. And as we grow up into him, we are growing together with other believers. We are each fulfilling unique and specific roles in the body of Christ. We are all connected to him, and the only way the body functions properly is when we all are responding obediently to his commands.

          Redemption by confession

Guilty, I’m set free

          This is life abundant

For I love my greatest need

          Romans 10:9-10 tells us “that if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved; for with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation.” I am redeemed through confessing the truth about Christ – that he is Lord, that he died to pay the price for my sins, and that he is risen and reigning with the Father. “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Galatians 5:1 declares that “It was for freedom that Christ set us free.” This is the gateway to life abundant. We come to Christ in faith, confessing that he is who he says he is and that he has given us his righteousness and accepted the penalty for our sin. We were prisoners awaiting judgment, and he opened the cell door. Now we are free from slavery to sin so that we may instead serve our savior and walk in the path of life.

          I had and have no need bigger than this – to be set free from slavery to sin, to be cleared of the weighty charges held against me by my maker. And I do love him because he first loved me. I am simply responding.

          I have this confidence that the great I AM came with the gentleness of a lamb so that I could be spiritually renewed. He has laid the foundation for my life, and he is my goal as I grow up into him. I feast upon him, and I am satisfied. Have you tasted of this soul nourishment? Come to the calling of the…

Heartbeat of a Lamb

          Life forever calling

Like the heartbeat of a lamb

          The bread and wine are filling

With the confidence—I am

          Not me at all but only him

Alive though he was dead

          Stumbling block of beauty

The base, though he’s the head

          Redemption by confession

Guilty, I’m set free

          This is life abundant

For I love my greatest need

‍

Redeem Us

      Master, please redeem us

Redeem this world from curse of death

      Come back soon and loose the seals

That close the scroll the Father kept

      Let no more sorrow sting our eyes

Or grief weigh down our hearts

      Rule again a world made right

Where sin and pain can have no part

      You bear my burdens

Yes, I know this

      Still, I ache beneath their load

      And I long

To trade this yearning

      To be with you, forever home

      There is a day my soul desires

When I will see you as you are

      And life at last will not be trammeled

By the shackles of the dark

      Make me strong and brave to persevere

Guide my feet along your path

      Please use my life to honor you

In all I do and say and am

      I have hope

In your redemption

      Blood was spilled to save my soul

      And now I wait

For reclamation

      To make me and this world whole

            Not all of my poems do I remember where I was when I wrote them. In fact, there are some that I don’t remember the context for, even when the content makes clear that I was dealing with something weighty when I wrote the poem. But this one I remember. I remember where I was and why I wrote this. I was visiting a friend, and she had shared with me a burden that was on her heart. Someone she loved dearly was suffering the consequences of sin, and she was grieved by the sin and the suffering. And as she shared these things with me, I was grieved as well – for the state of the sufferer’s soul and the fallout from her sin as well as by the heartache of my friend. And I felt the yearning expressed at the end of Revelation for Lord Jesus to come quickly. This same longing is expressed in Romans.

_{For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.}

(Romans 8:20-23)

I was feeling that – feeling that groaning, that longing, that hungering for redemption.

      Master, please redeem us

Redeem this world from curse of death

      Come back soon and loose the seals

That close the scroll the Father kept

            When I was in middle school, my pastor preached a series through Revelation. And I remember him teaching that the scroll in Revelation 5:1 – “Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals” (ESV) – was the title deed to the earth. Satan is described as “the god of this world” (2 Corinthians 4:4), “the prince of the power of the air” (Ephesians 2:2), and “the ruler of this world” (John 12:31). Even his interaction with Jesus in the wilderness makes clear that he has been granted power in this world for a time: “I will give You all this domain and its glory; for it has been handed over to me, and I give it to whomever I wish. Therefore if You worship before me, it shall all be Yours.” (Luke 4:6-7). Jesus doesn’t contradict him. He simply refuses to worship Satan, saying, “It is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and serve Him only’” (Luke 4:8). Nevertheless, Satan has continued to have dominion over this earth since Adam and Eve ate at Satan’s urging in the Garden of Eden. And since that time, the Genesis 2:17 curse of dying, you shall die has been upon the earth. But even as we see in Job, Satan needs God’s permission to act in this world.

            So, right now, we all groan with all of creation, longing for a day of re-creation. We are waiting for Jesus to open the scroll and claim back this earth. In Revelation 5:9, the cherubim and elders in the throne room of heaven sing to Jesus, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation” (ESV). Jesus paid the title price for the earth and all the people it contains with his blood upon the cross. God the Father, the true owner of this earth, still holds the title. Satan only acts as a tenant for life until Jesus opens the scroll and inherits his kingdom.

            This is what we’re crying out for: come, claim what’s yours, King Jesus! We long for you to rule in perfection, grace, justice, and love. Free us from ourselves and from Satan. Make this world right!

      Let no more sorrow sting our eyes

Or grief weigh down our hearts

      Rule again a world made right

Where sin and pain can have no part

            Revelation 21:3-4 describes a day that is coming where it will be said, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.”

            This is the world made right. God says from the throne, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). Satan has been thrown into hell; the tempter has been ultimately vanquished.

      You bear my burdens

Yes, I know this

      Still, I ache beneath their load

      And I long

To trade this yearning

      To be with you, forever home

            Psalm 68:19 describes the Lord as the one “who daily bears our burden”, but I also need to let go. I think this is why 1 Peter 5:7 instructs us to cast our anxiety upon God. And there are the twin truths that we were created to experience perfect relationship with the perfect God in the perfect world he created  and that when we live in an imperfect world experiencing imperfect relationship with the perfect God, we ache. Like our physical bodies hurt to let us know that there is a problem that needs to be resolved, our spiritual selves ache with yearning for perfection to let us know we are striving and waiting for something better.

            As I grieved with my friend over the pain of her loved one, I longed all the more to be done with the struggle – to stop aching over desired perfection and instead to experience it. I don’t want to fall short of God’s glory. I don’t want to see others fall short of God’s glory. I want to experience the perfect world illumined by God’s glory, where all things have at last been made beautiful in their time (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

      There is a day my soul desires

When I will see you as you are

      And life at last will not be trammeled

By the shackles of the dark

            I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that I long for the day that I will see God as he is and be made like him (1 John 3:2). Right now, I view all our opportunities to learn and grow and create as opportunities to more fully image our maker. But I get tripped up by sin. I’m not just falling short of God’s glory; I’m falling short of my own potential. I still war against my flesh. Hebrews 12:1 urges us to “lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us”. I want to. I’m striving to. There is a day coming when the encumbrances will be gone! I will no longer need to walk carefully to avoid getting tripped up by the shackles of darkness. Rather, I will run the right way at all times without faltering.

      Make me strong and brave to persevere

Guide my feet along your path

      Please use my life to honor you

In all I do and say and am

            There are so many places in scripture where we’re told not to be afraid, to be strong and courageous, to persevere, to endure. We are told that if we trust in God, he will make our paths straight (Proverbs 3:5-6), that his word is a light unto our path (Psalm 119:105), that he prepared good works for us to walk in (Ephesians 2:10), and that we should make straight paths for our feet so that we may be healed rather than crippled (Hebrews 12:13). “He guides [us] in paths of righteousness / For His name’s sake” (Psalm 23:3). I want to walk in the light. This is my plea with God to help me by his light to walk in the paths he has laid for me, paths of good works and righteousness, for his name’s sake and for my healing.

      I have hope

In your redemption

      Blood was spilled to save my soul

      And now I wait

For reclamation

      To make me and this world whole

            1 Peter 1:13 instructs us to “fix [our] hope completely on the grace to be brought to [us] at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” And I know that Jesus has paid the price to ransom my soul, to reclaim this earth. He is sanctifying me now, but there is a day coming when I will be “clothed with [my] dwelling from heaven” (2 Corinthians 5:2) as “what is mortal will be swallowed up by life” (2 Corinthians 5:4).

            This poem is a prayer for the wait to be over, for sin to be no more.

            Imagine a kingdom built by a beneficent king. He is kind to his people and ensures that they flourish. Then they rebel against him and crown a wicked man who tricks them into poverty, either material or spiritual or both. Imagine living there and knowing that the king has a son who will defeat the wicked ruler when he returns. How much would you long for him to come?

            If you know God, if you know what Jesus has done for us, for you, this is where we’re at. A wicked ruler wears an enticing crown as he enslaves anyone who falls for his lies. And we long for the true king to come rescue us and rule as his father intended. We are ambassadors for the true king, seeking to strip power away from the wicked ruler and prepare our neighbors to welcome the righteous sovereign.

            I wait with longing for my redeemer. Do you? “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5 ESV).

Redeem Us

      Master, please redeem us

Redeem this world from curse of death

      Come back soon and loose the seals

That close the scroll the Father kept

      Let no more sorrow sting our eyes

Or grief weigh down our hearts

      Rule again a world made right

Where sin and pain can have no part

      You bear my burdens

Yes, I know this

      Still, I ache beneath their load

      And I long

To trade this yearning

      To be with you, forever home

      There is a day my soul desires

When I will see you as you are

      And life at last will not be trammeled

By the shackles of the dark

      Make me strong and brave to persevere

Guide my feet along your path

      Please use my life to honor you

In all I do and say and am

      I have hope

In your redemption

      Blood was spilled to save my soul

      And now I wait

For reclamation

      To make me and this world whole

‍

Eternity’s Hourglass

            Eternity’s hourglass—the hands of God
The sands of time are slipping through
            Yet, though the grains fall freely out,
The glass is ever filled with new

            Still I know my days are numbered
For each grain shall not touch me
            But one day I’ll view them on the shore
Of heaven’s crystal sea

            Now as the sands are falling
I will whisper to the wind
            To blow sweet time upon me
Until my days have reached their end

            Then God will carry me to heaven
And time shall be no more
            The glass forever broken
Upon eternity’s shore

            Wow – where to begin!?

            Maybe I’ll just start by saying that I like this poem. It’s an oldie but a goodie, written in 2013, and I wanted to share it with you before I knew exactly how I wanted to discuss it. But as I’ve thought about it, I can see two fun directions to go in, and we’re going to explore them both: God as the creator of time and the history of the hourglass.

            “Eternity’s hourglass—the hands of God”.

            The idea of eternity’s hourglass is seemingly a paradox at first glance. Hourglasses remind us that we are bound by time. We can watch its passage with the flowing of the grains of sand. But eternity is, by definition, without bounds. Time is in the hands of God, being his construct, and as such, God is not bound by time. How do we know this?

            There are some passages in the Bible that hint at God’s timelessness and some which are more direct. Let’s start with the direct. Revelation 10:6 refers to God as the one “who lives forever and ever”. But there’s also strong reason to believe God is eternal in that he is the creator. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1). And he is also the one who created time, as we can again see in the endcaps of the Bible.

            In the creation account, there is the pattern of creating form and then giving it substance. Day 1, there is light. Day 4, it is given substance in the creation of individual lights – sun, moon, and stars. Day 2, there is water and sky. Day 5, they are filled with sea creatures and birds. Day 3, there is dry land. Day 6, it is filled with land-dwelling creatures, including mankind. And day 7, of course, God rests.

            Why do I bring this up? Because I think it’s significant that the sun, moon, and stars were not created to be necessary sources of light, even though they do give off light. The light existed before what we view as its sources were in existence. They must then have had a different purpose, and God lets us know what it was/is:

_{"to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years; and let them be for lights in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth”; and it was so. God made the two great lights, the greater light to govern the day, and the lesser light to govern the night; He made the stars also. God placed them in the expanse of the heavens to give light on the earth, and to govern the day and the night, and to separate the light from the darkness}

(Genesis 1:14b-18a). These are functions of time – day and night, seasons, days, and years. And if these are meant to be indicators of time, it’s then significant as well that when the new heaven and new earth are created, “there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them” (Revelation 22:5).

            Even now, in this time when time exists, God is not bound by time as we are. I think this is also evident in Revelation by the intermingling of prophecy of that which has already been and that which is yet to come, but I am more struck by 2 Peter 3:8: “But do not let this one fact escape your notice, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.” It’s not that God can’t keep track of time, but it doesn’t hold the same significance for him as it does for us. We frame our lives by days and weeks and grow impatient in the waiting. God waits for the right time and does not weary in the waiting. “Do you not know? Have you not heard? / The Everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth / Does not become weary or tired. / His understanding is inscrutable” (Isaiah 40:28).

            The creator God holds our days in his hands. “[I]n Your book were all written / The days that were ordained for me, / When as yet there was not one of them” (Psalm 139:16b).

            But how do we hold time in our hands? One of the earliest handheld timekeeping devices was the hourglass…At least, historians think so. Interestingly enough, however, the hourglass may have only been invented around the same time that mechanical clocks showed up on the scene – the late 13^th or early 14^th century. How does that make any sense? Well, to begin with, the first mechanical clocks were not really what you would consider portable in the traditional sense. They were tower clocks which were large and heavy. More to the point, tower clocks made use of suspended weights to turn the timekeeping wheels and ring the bells to sound the hour. Suspended weights don’t do very well onboard ships that rock with the motion of ocean waves. And that’s where the hourglass comes in.

            The hourglass’s direct predecessor was the water clock, also known by the Greeks as a clepsydra. The idea of a water clock is that a set amount of water is poured into the top of the device to drip at a determined rate either into a collecting vessel or out onto the ground below. Besides having potential issues with condensation forming to affect the accuracy of this sort of clock, there was still the ocean issue. Water sloshing around with the rocking of the waves doesn’t drip very predictably. An hourglass, hung to swing freely on a ship, performs much more reliably. That was the advantage of the hourglass being invented – that and sand doesn’t freeze in the cold.

            But is that really true that hourglasses and mechanical clocks were invented at similar points in history? Historians definitely have not come to a consensus on this point, but I’m inclined to be skeptical. Some people suggest that hourglasses, or sand clocks, could date back as far as the 14^th or 15^th century B.C., which would make them contemporary with the oldest surviving water clocks, located in Egypt and Babylon. Evidence indicates that the ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Roman societies all had the technology to make hourglasses. Meanwhile, Chinese historical records claim that their Yellow Emperor invented the hourglass as early as the 27^th century B.C.

            However, just because a society has the theoretical means of constructing something doesn’t mean they actually did it. And considering that the Yellow Emperor is considered to be half-historical, half-mythical, the claim that he invented the hourglass could be as well.

            Nonetheless, some artwork dated to the 4^th century includes hourglasses, so the idea that they didn’t show up until Medieval times seems difficult to support. Personally, I find the irony amusing in historians being unable to determine the time at which a timekeeping device was invented.

            As for hours themselves, therein lies another interesting history. Egyptian calendars had twelve months because they marked the passage of days in decans, of which there were twelve. Decans were groups of constellations, and a new group would become visible every ten days. This led the Egyptians to also divide the dark of night into twelve equal segments which led to dividing the light of day into twelve equal segments as well. The catch? These temporal hours, as they’re called, change throughout the year. In winter, night hours are long and day hours are short. In summer, the reverse is true. An hour of consistent length was likely not widely adopted until the invention of mechanical clocks, which were naturally suited to keep regular hours. If we consider true hourglasses rather than the more generic term sand clock, maybe this alone is reason for hourglasses and mechanical clocks to have emerged as popular technologies around the same time.

            Whenever they really did first show up, hourglasses are claimed to have been used for timing Roman senate speeches, church sermons, factory shifts, and ship speeds. Today, we most often see them as decorative pieces or game timers. And they have gained cultural significance with the idea of the sands of time.

            Clearly, I like this idea.

            Eternity’s hourglass—the hands of God
The sands of time are slipping through
            Yet, though the grains fall freely out,
The glass is ever filled with new

            God is eternal, though time is not. And God’s timeline gives us a sense of the infinite in that we can only approximate the beginning and have no idea of when the end will come. Unlike the traditional hourglass which has a confined amount of sand within it, allowing you to watch its passage and estimate the time that remains, God’s timing is inscrutable. Time keeps passing freely by, and we have no indication of when it may cease.

            Still I know my days are numbered
For each grain shall not touch me
            But one day I’ll view them on the shore
Of heaven’s crystal sea

            Job says of man, “his days are determined, / The number of his months is with You; / And his limits You have set so that he cannot pass” (Job 14:5). Time was flowing long before I was born, and it very well may continue long after I die. But even if I’m not here on this earth when the end comes, I know I will see the end of days.

            I don’t think the crystal sea described in Revelation 4:6 is actually water. I’m pretty sure there won’t be sand on its banks. But I know I will behold it. Revelation 15:2 describes the victorious saints standing on “something like a sea of glass mixed with fire” as they praise the Lord. And when that day comes, the sands of time will be near their completion.

            Now as the sands are falling
I will whisper to the wind
            To blow sweet time upon me
Until my days have reached their end

            I’m sure you’ve heard the Latin phrase carpe diem – seize the day! This is the idea of asking the winds of life to blow sweet time upon me. I don’t want to just let time drift on by. I want to touch it, to be fully engaged with this life which is given to me. I don’t get to choose the number of my days, but I get to choose what I do with them.

            Then God will carry me to heaven
And time shall be no more
            The glass forever broken
Upon eternity’s shore

            And when my time on this earth is over, I will be with my God in heaven. I don’t know if time will have a meaning for me there if I go before the trump resounds, but when the millennial reign of Christ and his saints is over, time will be as well. God’s hands will not be broken, but he will cease to hold time, as time will be done away with.

            I’m pretty sure it wasn’t on my mind when I wrote this poem – I was probably just enjoying the fitting imagery of a sand glass breaking on the seashore – but I also like the symbolic idea of eternity’s hourglass breaking on eternity’s shore. A shore denotes finitude, but an ocean conveys infinitude. Time measures our existence in this sin-cursed, mortal world doomed to destruction, but this world comes to a definite end. Eternity, by definition, does not. The sands of time stay with the sands of this earth. I set sail into the vastness of the re-creation.

Eternity’s Hourglass

            Eternity’s hourglass—the hands of God
The sands of time are slipping through
            Yet, though the grains fall freely out,
The glass is ever filled with new

            Still I know my days are numbered
For each grain shall not touch me
            But one day I’ll view them on the shore
Of heaven’s crystal sea

            Now as the sands are falling
I will whisper to the wind
            To blow sweet time upon me
Until my days have reached their end

            Then God will carry me to heaven
And time shall be no more
            The glass forever broken
Upon eternity’s shore

As you may have suspected, I have some sources for this episode too. Check out the links below if you’d like to learn more.

Sources:

A brief history of the hourglass : its design as a functional device and symbolic representation in European art

https://journals.co.za/doi/abs/10.10520/EJC-6967894d8

Hourglass

https://www.madehow.com/Volume-5/Hourglass.html

The Evolution of Timekeeping: A Look into the History of Hourglasses

https://giftdeco.pl/en/the-evolution-of-timekeeping-a-look-into-the-history-of-hourglasses,20,33

History

https://sandglass.weebly.com/journey

A brief history of timekeeping

https://physicsworld.com/a/a-brief-history-of-timekeeping/#:~:text=One%20of%20the%20earliest%20known,dividing%20the%20day%20into%20segments.

A Chronicle Of Timekeeping

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/a-chronicle-of-timekeeping-2006-02/

History of Timekeeping Devices

http://www.historyofwatch.com/clock-history/timekeeping-devices-history/

History Of Timekeeping Devices | Ancient to Modern

https://www.history-of-physics.com/2020/06/history-of-timekeeping-devices-ancient.html

Who Invented the Measurement of Time?

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/who-invented-the-measurement-of-time/

Hourglass

https://alaska.digication.com/the-history-of-the-clock/hourglass-clock

Types of clocks through the ages: a historical guide

https://www.westlandlondon.com/articles/view,types-of-clocks-through-the-ages-a-historical-guide_73.asp

History of Timepieces

https://www.govbergwatches.com/education/history-of-timepieces/

First-ever mechanical clock

https://museum.seiko.co.jp/en/knowledge/MechanicalTimepieces01/#:~:text=The%20first%20mechanical%20clock,the%20time%20by%20striking%20bells.

The Invention of the Mechanical Clock

https://www.premierclocks.com/blogs/clock-blog/mechanical-clock

The Masonic Meaning of the Hourglass

https://scottishritenmj.org/blog/the-masonic-meaning-of-the-hourglass#:~:text=Before%20the%20invention%20of%20the,Magellan%20expedition%20around%20the%20globe.

Grafted

            Feel it, flow the poetry

Who I am inside

            Passion coursing through these words

I no longer wish to hide

            Bare my soul

That it is read

            Gaze into my heart

Get inside my head

            This is me

Spilled on a page

            Like a tree cut open

Just to tell its age

            Line by line, you read the rings

This is all I’ve ever been

            As my outer turns to inner

I drink the rain that heaven sends

            The scars that healed

Still run so deep

            My life is bound by seasons

Where I lose what I would keep

            Can I still sing beneath the storm

Or will I break before the force?

            These things are in the Grafter’s hands

He is my own life source

            Recently, I had an exciting opportunity to submit some of my poems for consideration to be included in an illustrated children’s poetry anthology, and this poem was one of the ones I shortlisted as I narrowed down my list. After seeking input from several friends and giving further consideration to my selections myself, this one didn’t make the cut; preference went to more lighthearted poems such as “Truffle Kerfuffle” (reference episode 3). But as I thought about what my next post would be about, I thought this one could be an interesting one to dive into.

            If you’ve been reading the blog or listening to the podcast very long, you know I haven’t shied away from getting personal or going deep. This poem does that for sure, but more than simply being honest, it also has that quintessentially poetic quality of describing two things at once – an elaborate metaphor. At least, that’s where it ends up. To begin with, it’s merely me speaking to the reader about poetry.

            Feel it, flow the poetry

Who I am inside

            Passion coursing through these words

I no longer wish to hide

            One of my friends who is a native English speaker has been known to describe Spanish as being the true language of her soul. I’ve probably rolled my eyes at that, but after spending four years in Ecuador, she sometimes has an easier time finding the Spanish word for something than the English one. Though poetry is but a subset of the English language, I think in some ways my relationship with it is similar to my friend’s relationship with Spanish. English alone can be inadequate to express what’s in my head and heart, but poetry comes much closer to sufficiency.

            Well-done poetry merges thought and feeling. In some inexplicable way, it becomes so much more than the sum of its parts.

            I hesitate to describe it as listening to my muse, due to the inherent reference to Greek mythology, and saying I hear a voice inside my head isn’t much better or truly any more accurate, but sometimes when I’m writing poetry, I feel like I’ve tuned into a different channel in my brain, and it’s almost like I’m listening for what comes next. It’s a process of searching and waiting, considering and crafting. But I do feel it. I get excited when I get caught up in the current of its flow. There is a feeling of rightness when I find the pattern of language that holds rhythm and matches the rhyme scheme without sacrificing meaning. At its best, the rhythm and rhyme enhance the meaning. As the background music in a movie tells you what to feel, so does the cadence of a poem.

            When I think of what poetry conveys that normal speech doesn’t, I think of a quote from the movie, National Treasure. After Ben is describing how he has hoped and dreamt that the treasure his grandfather told him about is real, he ends by saying, “I just want to know it’s not just something in my head or in my heart.” And when Abigail responds, “People don’t really talk that way, you know?”, Ben replies, “I know. But they think that way.” If there was ever a way that I could truly capture the essence of my thoughts, complete with their emotional tie-ins, poetry would be it. It may not be more honest than a journal entry – though the potential is there – but it is ineffably more complete.

            Maybe part of it is that poetry is more concentrated. I might journal about all the events on my schedule in a week, but I poeticize about things that make me laugh, cry, smile, think deeply. Passion, warmth lend strength to the words.

            And sharing this poetry? It’s a choice not to hide. You best be believing that when I put “My Faithful Father” on the World Wide Web, I was nervous. Did I want to be that fully known? Not really, not by all and sundry, no. But God doesn’t give us gifts so that we can hoard them away to ourselves. He gives us gifts so that we can glorify him and bless others through them.

            Bare my soul

That it is read

            Gaze into my heart

Get inside my head

            This is me

Spilled on a page

            Like a tree cut open

Just to tell its age

            This is part of the fun of poetry, to be able to choose language that is forceful enough to be honest beyond the ordinary. Unless we’re being sarcastic and saying the opposite of what we mean, we rarely seem to be comfortable enough to say directly and openly exactly what we mean. Poetry goes a step further, not just saying what the poet means but also bringing the reader into it. It’s a step short of the Vulcan mind meld in Star Trek but also substantially less invasive.

            And this is where I slid into the tree metaphor.

            You know how when you cut a tree down, you can see all the concentric rings in the wood? Each of those rings represents a year of the tree’s life. And this is going to have to be another post where I share sources at the end because when I opened my browser to verify that each ring is, in fact, one year, I started learning other fascinating things. So, naturally, I’m going to share those things with you.

            Line by line, you read the rings

This is all I’ve ever been

            As my outer turns to inner

I drink the rain that heaven sends

            The rings of a tree actually tell us much more than just the tree’s age. Each ring has a lighter portion representing the larger, faster-growing cells of spring and early summer growth and a darker portion representing the smaller, slower-growing cells of late summer and fall growth. The width and consistency of these bands can tell us about what the tree has experienced – seasons of drought or abundant resources; cold, harsh years or times of warmth; pests; overcrowding and not enough sun. Rings can be asymmetric due to shifting ground or continuous, beating winds or pressure from other external forces such as nearby rocks.

            Doesn’t it already sound like the human experience? We have seasons of faster growth and slower growth, influenced by the circumstances around us. Though drought and pests can slow our growth, we will keep growing if we keep receiving the spiritual sunshine of relationship with Christ. We have a wonderful arborist who tends to our souls when we seek him.

            And just as the outside layer of a tree’s wood becomes its inner layer, so who we are at present will become a deeper part of us as we move into the future.

            Sometime in this last decade, I started thinking about how any time you’re interacting with someone, you’re not just dealing with who he seemingly is right now but also everyone he has been in the past. Who we are may change in some respects, but who we were never entirely goes away.

            And of course, “Line by line, you read the rings”. Poems are written line by line, and so are they read, just as tree rings are counted curve by curve. Dig back in my poetry file, and you’ll find out who I was. Check the poems around, and you’ll get the context for that season of my life. This one shows up not long after “Lake of the Clouds”, so I know it’s late 2015 or early 2016.

            The trees wait on rain from heaven, and God reigns over me as I wait upon him.

            The scars that healed

Still run so deep

            My life is bound by seasons

Where I lose what I would keep

            When trees face fire or injury, if they survive, they are permanently marked. Within their core, dark spots tell the story of the trials they’ve faced. Again, do I even have to explain the metaphor?

            If we go deep enough into any human and her experiences, we find places of pain and trial. But we can recover. Those experiences don’t have to be crippling or haunting. New growth can cover them and strengthen us.

            And trees are bound by seasons. In spring, there is abundance, and trees grow rapidly. They continue at a slower pace in the sufficiency of summer and fall. But come winter, they go dormant and conserve resources until there is again sufficiency or abundance. They only bear fruit in one season of the year. And come fall, they drop their leaves. The chlorophyll-laden ornaments which furnish them with food in the months of sunshine and warmth drop away for the cold, difficult months of winter.

            Our lives have seasons as well. We feel acutely the loss of loved ones or hopes and dreams. There are times we are reaching toward everything we want and actually grasping some of it, and there are times that we hold on in hunger waiting for what we do not have.

            Can I still sing beneath the storm

Or will I break before the force?

            These things are in the Grafter’s hands

He is my own life source

            All of creation cries out to God, and when I hear the shooshing of the leaves rustling in the wind, I know the trees are lifting up their voices to worship their maker. But in the winter, when age dries their thirsty wood and the cruel gusts beat against them, can they still sing a song of creaking praise, or will they break?

            As I walked through the woods this evening, thinking and praying, I found myself thinking of the end of Isaiah 41:10: “I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” The whole verse says,

“Do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,

Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

A scarred and battered tree may break before the wind, but if it was supported, it could stand even in weakness.

            When the winds of life beat against me, I needn’t fear. The righteous right hand of the living God upholds me. I will sing.

            And it’s true that in part, I referred to God here as the Grafter because I was talking about trees. But there’s a deeper truth here. Romans 11 talks about how God has broken off branches of the cultivated olive tree – referring to the Israelites – in order to graft in wild olive branches – the Gentiles. This picture is further detailed by Jesus’ parable in John 15 where he describes that we are branches drawing our life from him if we abide in him. Do you think our Arborist would show the patience and care to graft wild branches into a cultivated tree if he didn’t have every intention of cultivating the wild branches too? I don’t think so. He wants us to bear fruit. He wants us to be beautiful. He wants the wild and cultivated branches to grow alongside one another, both flourishing until it’s difficult to tell which was the original and which was added.

            So, yes, I have scars, and I’m sure you do too. I have lost people and hopes I wanted to hold onto forever, and I’m guessing you could say the same. But even as I wonder what it will mean in my own life, I remember again Philippians 4:19: “And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” And he does. Even as I wrestle with him over all the matters I don’t understand, he faithfully provides what I need for today.

            This is the beauty of poetry. It can perfectly hold a paradox. It can combine straightforward, simplistic honesty with unsuspected depth. This is the language of my soul, for so I have been…

Grafted

            Feel it, flow the poetry

Who I am inside

            Passion coursing through these words

I no longer wish to hide

            Bare my soul

That it is read

            Gaze into my heart

Get inside my head

            This is me

Spilled on a page

            Like a tree cut open

Just to tell its age

            Line by line, you read the rings

This is all I’ve ever been

            As my outer turns to inner

I drink the rain that heaven sends

            The scars that healed

Still run so deep

            My life is bound by seasons

Where I lose what I would keep

            Can I still sing beneath the storm

Or will I break before the force?

            These things are in the Grafter’s hands

He is my own life source

Again, I have some fun resources to share if you’d like to learn more about the marvel of trees and what their inner workings tell us. Check out the site links below.

Sources:

How tree rings tell time and climate history

https://www.climate.gov/news-features/blogs/beyond-data/how-tree-rings-tell-time-and-climate-history

The Living Forest

https://www.arborday.org/trees/ringslivingforest.cfm

What Can Trees Tell Us About Climate Change?

https://climatekids.nasa.gov/tree-rings/#:~:text=The%20light%2Dcolored%20rings%20represent,snapshots%20of%20past%20climate%20conditions.

Read the Rings

https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/forestry/education/foresttreasures/readtherings.html#:~:text=The%20cambium%20cells%20on%20the,give%20us%20the%20annual%20rings.

‍

               Are you ready for a riddle?

“Out of the eater came something to eat,

And out of the strong came something sweet.”

(Judges 14:14)

            Any ideas?

            Unless you’re familiar with the story of Samson, this is a well nigh impossible riddle to solve. So, let’s back up a few verses.

“[H]e turned aside to look at the carcass of the lion; and behold, a swarm of bees and honey were in the body of the lion. So he took out the honey on his hands and went on, eating as he went.” (Judges 14:8b-9a)

            Personally, I’d rather not scoop my honey out of a dead animal, but I’m all about scooping honey out of the hive – that is, I’m all about beekeepers doing it so I can enjoy honey. I could work on building the bravery to take honey from hives myself, but the little striped guardians are still kind of scary to me.

            Today, we’re going to take a look at the marvel that is honey. Where does it come from, what is it made of, and how is it used – both by bees and people?

            I assume you already know that honey comes from honeybees, but why? Why do they make it? How do they make it? How do they store it?

Let’s start with how they make it.

            Picture yourself walking barefoot across your lawn on a warm May day with patches of clover in bloom. Your ears pick up a buzzing and warn you of the little stinging hazards patrolling the blooms of the soft, round leaves.

            This is step one of the honey making process. Forager bees leave the hive to visit flowers and collect nectar. They drink it up through a little straw-type orifice called a proboscis. This is the same type of organ a female mosquito uses to collect our blood samples. Fortunately, with bees, they’re much more interested in sugar than protein.

            The bees drink up the nectar, and their bodies route it to the honey stomach.

            Nectar is mostly composed of sucrose solution. Sucrose is a disaccharide, so called because it is made up of two monosaccharides, or simple sugars. What are those simple sugars? Glucose and fructose. Simple sugars are easier to digest, they spike blood sugar faster, and they’re a great source of immediate energy for insects.

            Once the sucrose solution is in the bee’s honey stomach, enzymes in the stomach start the process of separating sucrose into glucose and fructose. When the bee returns to the hive, she passes her modified nectar to one of house bees, and a chain of house bees passes the fluid mouth-to-mouth down the line to the honeycomb where the honey will be stored. This transportation strategy has the added side effect of reducing water content and continuing to break down sugars. At the end of the line, the final house bee is left with essentially watered down honey to deposit into the honeycomb for storage, and personally, I think what comes next is especially cool.

            Bees are the HVAC pros of the insect world. They fan inside the hive in winter to warm the hive, and in the summer, they might station fanners outside as well as inside to generate a cooling current. When it’s time to cure honey, they also get busy fanning to evaporate water from the treated nectar in the honeycomb. This process reduces the water content from about 80% down to below 20%. The end product is finished honey, and the bees proceed to cap the honeycomb with wax to preserve their stores.

            Interestingly, though foraging bees often make twelve or more trips in a single day, visiting thousands of flowers and possibly traveling as far as two to five miles, they will only visit one plant species per trip. In this, I see the fingerprints of God marked on his creation, since this particularity of the bees allows plants to be pollinated without cross-pollination occurring. I wonder if the bees also fill a single honeycomb cell only with the honey made from a single plant species. That would allow them different menu options when snacking from their stores.

            And this actually provides a nice segue into why bees make honey.

            Nectar and pollen are bees’ food sources in the warmer months, but when no flowers are in bloom, they need another source of food. Converting sucrose to simpler sugars makes it less prone to crystallizing, and evaporating off the excess water prevents bacteria and fungi from growing. These two modifications together make for an ideal preserved food…for bees, that is. For humans, living on a substance which is almost 80% sugar is less ideal. But just think if we could keep our food from spoiling while storing it unrefrigerated indefinitely. And you might be tempted to think, “Well, haven’t you heard: we already invented Twinkies.” But here’s the thing: honey has the ideal nutritional composition for bees. Must be nice, right? Eat sugar naturally fortified with minerals, and be good to go. Consider this, though: when a bee is flying, his wings beat about 11,400 times per minute. These little guys are burning through a lot of energy.

            Not only is honey great food for the bees over the winter when they can’t forage, but it also holds heat to keep the core of the hive warmer through the harsh, cold months. I told you they’re little HVAC pros.

            When spring rolls around, the foragers chow down on some more honey to power their trips out into the rejuvenated world. And if you’d like to be even more amazed by these little gals, guess what? They can carry up to 35% of their weight in their pollen baskets (corbiculae) and up to 80% of their weight in their honey stomach. Now, perhaps you’re thinking that doesn’t sound too bad to be able to carry around 115% of your weight and eat as much sugar as you want, but one, I doubt any of us have that much of a sweet tooth, and two, I’m pretty sure none of us want to work as hard and continuously as the honeybee.

            But that doesn’t stop us from using the fruits of their labors!

            A healthy honeybee hive will store 2-3 times as much honey as they’re likely to need in the course of the winter. Although a single honeybee will only produce 1/12^th of a teaspoon of honey in its entire lifespan, the average hive contains around 60,000 bees. Working together, they can produce 30-60 pounds of honey in a year. Some hives can even produce as much as 100 pounds of honey in a year! Considering that a single pound of honey requires bees to visit two million flowers, we’re talking between 60 and 200 million flower visits by the hive for their year’s production.

            Why would they do all this work if they’re in the process creating a major surplus? Well, it’s insurance. Since honey remains good indefinitely, the bees are preparing for the future. If they have a bad foraging year, they’ll use stores from previous years to keep the hive going until they’re able to bring in fresh supplies.

            This means responsible beekeepers need to keep a close eye on their hives to make sure the bees are healthy and be careful to leave enough honey for the bees’ use.

            What does the honey collection process look like?

            First, the beekeeper needs to check that the honey is ready to harvest. The hives keepers build for bees are filled with wooden frames. The bees will build their combs off these frames, so when it comes time to harvest honey, the keeper can lift out a frame at a time with all the precious honey it contains. But before beginning this collection process, the keeper should make sure all the frames are full and that the honey is all covered with a white wax cap. This means the bees have entirely filled up their stores and are done collecting for the year.

            Generally, a beekeeper will suit up for the honey collection process, wearing a coverall and gloves, as well as a veiled hat, to protect from stings. Smoking the hive is also common practice, to cause the bees to settle to the bottom of the hive instead of swarming out in defense. The frame can then be lifted out and the honey harvested.

            Now, there are two main choices. Either cut up the honeycomb and eat it raw or extract the honey from the comb. Most people in the U.S. choose the second option. So, what does that process look like?

            For larger operations, an extractor is typically used. You remember how the beekeeper should check that the honey is all capped prior to collection? Capping is, after all, our sign that the honey is ripe and ready for storage. Well, now those caps need to come off. An uncapping knife – creatively named, no? – is used for this process. The knife is heated and then used to take off the minimum amount of wax to expose the honey. Depending on the type of extractor, one or more frames can be loaded in, and then the extractor spins either by manual crank or electric power to use centrifugal force to draw the honey out of the comb. Some extractors require flipping the frame part way through the process to fully remove the honey. When the process is finished, the honey is filtered to remove any debris, and then the honey can be bottled in glass or plastic containers. One of the cool things about this method is that the frame and honeycomb can be returned to the hive, and the bees will reuse the existing comb.

            However, for smaller operations, investing in an extractor is not always justified, so the method used looks a little different. Instead of loading a frame into an extractor, the honeycomb is crushed and poured into a colander, preferably in an environment around 90°F to allow the honey to drain more freely. Honey is collected below the colander before going through a fine mesh strainer and possibly cheesecloth to finish filtering, at which point the honey can be bottled. Of course, at this point, the wax isn’t going back into the hive, but the remnants can be heated between 150 and 185°F – hot enough to melt the wax but cool enough to avoid discoloring it – to allow the wax to float up above residual honey. Once it cools, the wax can be removed and subsequently remelted and filtered if desired for a host of uses such as candles, skincare, lubrication, fire starters, conditioning, and the list goes on.

            But now, we have our honey. What are we going to do with that?

            Probably when most of us think of honey, we imagine sweetening tea with it or spreading it on bread or biscuits. And certainly honey is delicious that way. Personally, I like a little lemon ginger tea with a squeeze of honey. But what really got me excited about this post was all the other things honey is good for.

            Did you know it can be used as a facial cleanser? Honey is anti-inflammatory, anti-microbial, and antibacterial. A small amount of hydrogen peroxide in the honey contributes to these properties, as well as a low pH level. But at the same time, honey is moisturizing. The fancy word for it is humectant. Because the bees fan it until the excess water evaporates, honey is a highly saturated solution. When exposed to air, it draws in moisture which benefits the skin. Also, where most commercially available cleansers disrupt the acid mantle our skin maintains to preserve pH and prevent infection, honey preserves the acid mantle and aids in pH regulation. Over time, it can also lighten scars and hyperpigmentation. Talk about something you can feel good about putting on your skin!

            So, that’s what started me on my most recent round of honey research, but the thing that decided me in favor of a deep-dive was reading that honey is at least as effective, if not more effective, as silver sulfadiazine in healing burns. No way…Way!

            But that’s just the beginning. Honey has been found to have benefits for wound healing, treating diabetes, preventing cancer, ameliorating asthma, reducing cardiovascular risk, promoting neurological health, and improving gastrointestinal health. How does it do all these amazing things? At a very basic level, it helps retain moisture in wounds and prevent bacterial growth, but it also triggers tissue repair and immune response. It interferes with cell signaling in a way that modulates cellular growth and prevents excessive proliferation. It improves blood vessel dilation, reduces clotting, and acts as an anti-oxidizer. And let’s not forget all the other anti’s above; honey is still fighting against inflammation, microbes, and bacteria.

            And God says,

“My son, eat honey, for it is good,

Yes, the honey from the comb is sweet to your taste;”

(Proverbs 24:13)

and

“Pleasant words are a honeycomb,

Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

(Proverbs 16:24)

Yet, he says, also,

“Have you found honey? Eat only what you need,

That you not have it in excess and vomit it.”

(Proverbs 25:16)

            Honey is a very literally sweet gift from our heavenly father which both tastes good and brings healing. But as we know, moderation is the best policy with most things in life. Too much honey, and you could make yourself sick.

            Now, before I close with a poem, I have a few more thoughts for you on a personal note. First, my earliest recollection of experiencing honey as a treatment for anything was my dad giving me a spoonful of honey to stop the hiccups when I was enduring a particularly bad bout which simply wouldn’t go away. I swallowed the spoonful of honey, and voila, the hiccups stopped. More recently, I’ve applied raw honey to lingering and painful canker sores and found that they heal within a couple days under this treatment.

            My most interesting introduction to beekeeping was through my grandpa. He was a beekeeper for much of my childhood, and when I was in middle school, he put a hive at our house that had a plexiglass window in the side. If you were brave enough to crouch down beside it, you could see the busy little bees at work within. So, I’ve tasted honey fresh from the comb or in the comb, and it is indeed sweet.

            And all this talk of beekeepers makes me think of one of my favorite authors, Gene Stratton-Porter, and her book, The Keeper of the Bees, as well as The Prince and Betty, by P.G. Wodehouse. If you’re looking for some fresh reading material, consider checking them out – literally!

            Lastly, I’m sure the title made you think of something romantic, and “honey” is often the epithet I use in fictitious stories when a husband or wife addresses the other. So, I couldn’t resist. Here’s a poem I wrote for fun and my future honey when I find him. Have a taste.

My Honey

            Oh, my honey, oh, my darling

How sweet I find this love we share

            The nectar of our romance

Is a treat beyond compare

            The birds and bees have nothing

On the artistry we bear

            Our music is perfection

And our dance divinely fair

            You are who my buzz is all about

There’s something in the air

            Stick close to me and savor

This raw, two-sugar pair

Most of the time, my biggest resource for these episodes is the Bible, but in this case, I did quite a lot of research and reading. To give credit where credit is due (and in case you’d like to learn more), you can find below the long list of sources I used.

Sources:

Honey

https://www.mayoclinic.org/drugs-supplements-honey/art-20363819

How do bees make honey?

https://www.honeyflow.com/blogs/beekeeping-basics/how-do-bees-make-honey

How Do Bees Make Honey?

https://www.pestworldforkids.org/pest-info/bug-articles-by-type/how-do-bees-make-honey/

HOW HONEY IS MADE

https://honey.com/about-honey/how-honey-is-made#:~:text=From%20Bee,nectar%20collected%20by%20the%20bees.

Unveiling the Mystery of Why Bees Make Honey

https://localhivehoney.com/blogs/blog/unveiling-the-mystery-of-why-bees-make-honey

Honey

https://www.naturalbeekeepingtrust.org/honey

Helping Agriculture's Helpful Honey Bees

https://www.fda.gov/animal-veterinary/animal-health-literacy/helping-agricultures-helpful-honey-bees#:~:text=Nectar%20and%20pollen%20collected%20from,maintenance%2C%20and%20general%20daily%20activities.

Why do bees make honey?

https://www.newscientist.com/question/bees-make-honey/

Why Do Bees Make Honey?

https://www.buzzaboutbees.net/why-do-bees-make-honey.html

How Do You Harvest Honey?

https://www.wonderopolis.org/wonder/How-Do-You-Harvest-Honey#:~:text=To%20harvest%20honey%2C%20beekeepers%20pull,honeycomb%20without%20destroying%20the%20frame.

Harvesting Honey | A Guide For Beginner Beekeepers

https://www.ecrotek.com.au/blogs/articles/guide-for-beginner-beekeepers

Extracting Honey Without a Honey Extractor

https://www.betterbee.com/instructions-and-resources/extractorless-extracting.asp#:~:text=The%20easiest%20method%20for%20most,number%20of%20hours%2C%20maybe%20overnight.

EXTRACTING HONEY FROM COMB (WITH & WITHOUT AN EXTRACTOR)

https://practicalselfreliance.com/extracting-honey/

Beeswax: 50 Uses For Nature’s Most Versatile Product

https://bestbees.com/2022/11/30/uses-for-beeswax/

Breaking Down The 7 Extraordinary Benefits Of Honey

https://bestbees.com/2023/01/16/benefits-of-honey/

Honey and Health: A Review of Recent Clinical Research

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5424551/#:~:text=Traditionally%2C%20honey%20is%20used%20in,used%20as%20a%20nutritious%20supplement.

What *Actually* Happened When I Used Honey for Face Wash for a Week

https://www.wellandgood.com/honey-as-a-face-wash-for-acne/

HOW TO WASH YOUR FACE WITH HONEY

https://kaleandcaramel.com/body-beauty/how-to-wash-your-face-with-honey/

Honey Skin Benefits + How to Use It

https://us.gisou.com/blogs/blog/honey-skin-benefits

The Efficacy of Honey Compared to Silver Sulfadiazine for Burn Wound Dressing in Superficial and Partial Thickness Burns—A Systematic Review and Meta-Analysis

https://www.mdpi.com/2673-866X/2/4/43

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YHWH

Beautiful One

My Savior

The Lord

            There is none like you

Master

Redeemer

            You make all things new

Mighty God

My Hero

Creator of All

            My life is in your hands

Emmanuel

The Lion

            You are too vast to understand

Prince of Peace

Star of David

The Word

            Only you are perfect

Good Shepherd

My Father

            Teach me to reflect

Jehovah

Elohim

The Rock

            Please be my strength to the end

Messiah

The Lamb

            I am called forgiven and friend

Comforter

Healer

Holy Spirit

            The living God indwelling me

My Sovereign

The Christ

            The law of love has set me free

Exalted One

True Vine

Love

            I’ll worship you all my days

Sustainer

Yahweh

            You are worthy of all praise

            Have you ever spent time in prayer simply speaking to God who he is? I get excited when I do. When I see the many facets of who he is, I am amazed, humbled, and grateful. I think I might just be scratching the surface, but let’s take a look at who this great God is.

            Beautiful One.

            In Psalm 27:4, David writes:

“One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek:

That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,

To behold the beauty of the Lord”

            This word for beauty is the Hebrew word transliterated nôʻam, and it means kindness, pleasantness, delightfulness, beauty, favor.

            Isaiah promises that those who turn from evil and seek refuge in God “will see the King in His beauty” (Isaiah 33:17), and here yŏphîy means simply beauty.

            Remember how we looked at God in the splendor of his throne room in episode 11? God displays an awesome beauty, but wrapped up in his majesty are delight, favor, and kindness as well. God’s appearance is breathtaking, but his character is heartwarming – so much so that he turns hearts of stone to hearts of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26).

            My Savior.

            Does it get any clearer? Any more beautiful? For every believer all over the world, this one word resonates eternally within our hearts. This is our gateway to heaven. This speaks to the God “who has called [us] out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). This is the application of John 3:16-17: “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.” This is Jesus Christ, “who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8). He is the “author and perfector of faith” (Hebrews 12:2).

            Jesus rescues us from sin so that we may walk in freedom and newness of life. We were on a track to hell, to damnation, enslaved to sin and serving Satan as a master, and then Jesus called us out of the darkness. That track to hell is shadowy, and the shackles each of its occupants bears are heavy and painful. But salvation is an instant track change to walk in the light. The shackles are loosed, and we only bear them longer if we choose to. Freedom becomes ours to grasp.

            The Lord.

            There is no one like him. “God” is a name that is in some sense generic. There are other religions who call their deity or deities big-g “God” or little-g “gods”. But we who trust in the name of Jesus call our God “Lord”. And this is pretty cool because if you look at the Hebrew words which are translated LORD, all caps, or Lord, first letter only capitalized, they mean Yahweh or Adonai, respectively. We’ll get to Yahweh at the end, but for now, let’s focus on Adonai.

            I’m very grateful to have a translation of the Bible in my own language, but there are some things we miss in the transition from the original Hebrew. A more complete translation of Adonai would be “my lords”. In this name for God, we get a hint of his triune nature – the three persons of God existing in perfect harmony. There is indeed no one, little-g god or otherwise, who is like this great, big-g God we serve.

            Master.

            In the title Lord we see God’s rulership, but in Master, we see more relationship. When I think of God as a master, the first scripture that comes to mind is Matthew 6:24a: “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other.” Seeing God as our master leads us to think about how we relate to him. Do we serve him? Do we love him? Have we found him to be a good master?

            Really, this title speaks to the relationship between a servant or slave and the one whom he or she serves. Colossians 4:1 refers to God as our “Master in heaven”.  Romans 6:16-19 describes how we can either obey God and be transformed by righteousness to be more holy or we will obey sin and be led into death.

            As I contemplate this now, I think of the relationship between landowners and tenants in the mid-eighteen hundreds. A good landowner creates conditions in which his tenants can thrive. He attends to their needs so that they may serve him more effectively. And God does that for us too – not because he needs us but because we need him. “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11). We wait upon the Lord because we need him, and he is a good master, and he sustains us.

            Redeemer.

            The whole idea of redemption is one which I think we’ve allowed to slip into Christianese status where we just think about the word in the context of the church and sometimes miss some of the glory of what God’s design is picturing by forgetting the normal meaning of the word.

            The word redeem means to buy back. The Hebrew and Greek words which are often translated as redeemed or redemption are ones which can also refer to ransoming. This is the idea of someone being a prisoner or slave and a redeemer paying the ransom to set that person free. What newness of life! I was walking in darkness, enslaved to sin, en route to death, and I have been ransomed so that I now walk in the light, free from sin, headed towards life more beautiful than I can fully imagine.

            Mighty God.

“More than the sounds of many waters,

Than the mighty breakers of the sea,

The Lord on high is mighty.”

(Psalm 93:4)

            This God whom we serve is the creator of all that is. He has the power to send storms and floods and to stop them. He can bring healing. He is the one who paints the sunrise and the sunset. I am in awe of him.

            My Hero.

            When you think of heroes, who or what do you think of? Superman, a soldier, firefighters, a parent or mentor? God possesses all their best qualities…or could if he chose to. I don’t think he has a particular reason to shoot lasers out of his eyes. Seriously though, he’s invincible. Christ said of his life, “No one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down on My own initiative” (John 10:18a). This is the God who sacrifices himself to save those he loves. He has all wisdom. There is no one better to look up to.

            Creator of All.

            “All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being” (John 1:3).

            You’ve heard this from me before, but look outside and be amazed. Marvel at what God has done. Breathe in oxygen and remember that the trees are breathing it out. Breathe out carbon dioxide and remember that the trees are breathing it in. Observe a cloudless blue sky and consider that when it’s filled with puffy white clouds, those clouds are composed of water which evaporates from earth and is carried where God wills to send it, and then the water falls again as rain or snow or some other form of precipitation. Feel your pulse. Know that before engineer was ever a career here on earth, God has been designing pumps that fire in response to electrical signals and use fluid for transport and heat exchange. Within each cell, there is a quaternary code of amino acids spun into helixes which we call DNA. Organic programming within our bodies allows us to develop from helpless infants of simplistic understanding into capable adults who can create in imitation of our creator. His hands are good hands to be in.

            Emmanuel.

            God with us. When the Israelites were traveling through the wilderness, God settled upon the tabernacle he had told them to build. He was with them. But the tabernacle and the temple to follow both had a holy of holies, where only the high priest could go once per year. When Christ died on the cross, the veil in the temple, which was at least 45 feet tall – possibly 60, as Jewish historical writings indicate that King Herod had increased the height – and approximately four inches thick, was ripped in two. There was no longer any need for an earthly high priest to make intercession for God’s people. “[T]he Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). And that God – Jesus, the Word – who chose to dwell among us is now also our priest (Hebrews 4:14-15). God with us so that we may be with him.

            The Lion.

            Full disclosure: I got chills when I read Revelation 5:5. “Stop weeping; behold, the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has overcome so as to open the book and its seven seals.” In all of heaven, there was no one else worthy to open the scroll. Not Enoch, who “walked with God; and he was not, for God took him” (Genesis 5:24). Not Abraham or Moses or King David or Paul or any of the martyrs who have proclaimed the gospel and died for their faith and faithfulness. Only the Lion. Only the unrivaled, perfect king. Can you grasp the vastness of our God who has the power and ferocity of a lion and lays his life down as a lamb? I don’t have my mind wrapped all the way around that.

            Prince of Peace.

            Jesus is called this in Isaiah 9:6. In John 14:27, he says to his disciples, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful,” and Romans 16:20 promises us, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” There is no longer conflict between God and us for those of us who have trusted in Christ. We can rest in assurance of right relationship with him. And he is victorious. So, even though there is a war raging within the spiritual realms, God is biding his time until he crushes Satan and manifests the victory he has already won. This is why Isaiah 9:7 says of this Prince of Peace that “There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace.”

            Star of David.

            In his revelation to the churches, Jesus describes himself: “I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star” (Revelation 22:16b). Christ was the root of David as his creator and God and yet he was also his descendant because he entered our world in the family of David’s offspring. The morning star heralds the coming of day. Darkness has clouded creation since the fall, but Jesus carries with him the promise of bright day to come.

            The Word.

            In the gospel according to John and the first epistle of John, Jesus is introduced as the Word. He was the mouthpiece of the Father. He spoke perfectly on earth as he speaks perfectly now.

            Good Shepherd.

            In John 10, we have the parable of the good shepherd, and after the story, Jesus declares, “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep.” Meditate also on Psalm 23. Though we as sheep are stubborn, foolish, and needy, our shepherd provides tenderly and faithfully for us. He guards our lives with his own.

            My Father.

            I’m sure I could write an entire episode looking at God’s nature as a father alone. But just to hit a few points that quickly jump to mind: he has adopted us, made us heirs, disciplines us, attends to our needs, listens to our requests, and loves us with an everlasting love. And as his child, I want to be an apple that didn’t fall far from the tree.

            Jehovah.

            I actually didn’t realize until I was doing research for this post that Jehovah is simply another rendering of Yahweh. But for me, I tend to think of Jehovah in conjunction with jireh. Jehovah Jireh – the Lord will provide.

            If you’d like to learn more about the very interesting translation history that landed us with the word Jehovah instead of Yahweh, check out my sources at the end of the blog post.

            Elohim.

            Another plural noun to refer to God, this time meaning “powers”. When you read at the very start of the Bible, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Genesis 1:1), you are reading that in the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth – the God of powers beyond our understanding.

            The Rock.

            Does your mind jump to Matthew 16:18 when Jesus tells Peter that he is petros, a small stone, and that Jesus will build his church upon petra, an immovable rock? The semantics of that specific verse are highly contested, but scripture is abundant in language that depicts God as a rock. He is described as such in the Old Testament:

“The Rock! His work is perfect,

For all His ways are just;

A God of faithfulness and without injustice,

Righteous and upright is He.”

(Deuteronomy 32:4)

“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,

My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge;”

(Psalm 18:2a)

And the New Testament makes clear that this same rock is Jesus, saying in 1 Corinthians 10:4 that the Israelites “were drinking from a spiritual rock which followed them; and the rock was Christ.”

            God is described as a rock to highlight his strength and steadiness, his constancy and the shelter he provides.

            Messiah.

            The anointed one. Christ is the descendant of David who will hold the throne forever.

            The Lamb.

            Right after John hears in his vision described in Revelation that the Lion of Judah is worthy to open the scroll, he sees “a Lamb standing, as if slain” (Revelation 5:6), and the saints in heaven sing to him, “Worthy are You to take the book and to break its seals; for You were slain, and purchased for God with Your blood men from every tribe and tongue and people and nation” (verse 9). The lambs feasted upon at Passover, whose blood marked the doorposts, were but a prophecy of this sufficient sacrifice to come. Because of his work, we are forgiven everlastingly if we trust in him.

            Comforter.

            Depending on the Bible translation you’re studying in, this word may show up as either Comforter or Helper, but this is how Jesus refers to the Holy Spirit in John 14:16 and 15:26. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 also describes God as being the one who comforts us in all our afflictions.

            Healer.

            1 Peter 2:24 tells us that by Christ’s wounds, we were healed, and this scripture references the well-known passage in Isaiah 53, wherein verse 5 we read that “by His scourging we are healed.” I think that this might be primarily in reference to the spiritual healing we receive through Christ, but throughout scripture, it’s evident that God is a healer. Christ heals many during his earthly ministry, but we also see miraculous healing of the Israelites in the wilderness after they were bitten by snakes, of King Hezekiah when he was ill to the point of death, of the widow’s son when Elijah stayed with her, of the young man who fell off a window sill while Paul was preaching. I could go on, but the point stands: God is our healer. Our creator is able to mend what the brokenness of sin has marred in his creation.

            Holy Spirit.

            Throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s Spirit fall upon men and women to enable them for spectacular deeds, and in the New Testament, we are given the Holy Spirit to dwell within us as a pledge of our inheritance at the time we place our faith in Christ (Ephesians 1:14). We become temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 3:16).

            My Sovereign.

            He is my king. His laws are supreme. He holds final power.

            The Christ.

            This is the Greek translation of the Hebrew word messiah. And I think it’s beautiful that the Greek language needed a translation of this word. Christ came not just for Jews but also for Gentiles. God’s plan for all the nations to be blessed through Abraham is fulfilled in Christ.

            Exalted One.

            “The Lord lives, and blessed be my rock;

And exalted be the God of my salvation”

(Psalm 18:46)

            Exalted: “held in high regard”.

            In view of everything we’ve looked at even just today, how could we fail to exalt our God, our creator, our Lord and master?

            True Vine.

            This is how Jesus describes himself in John 15:1: “I am the true vine.” He goes on to say, “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing” (verses 4-5). If we remain connected to him, growing in him and out of him, we bear abundant fruit.

            Love.

            “God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him” (1 John 14:16b). Not only is God himself love, but all his commandments are complete in perfect love. Jesus says in Matthew 22:37-40 that all the law and the prophets depend on the two commandments to love God with all that we are and to love our neighbor as ourself. And that helps me understand love more clearly. It’s not a wishy-washy, ooey-gooey feeling. It’s a steadfast, disciplined, faithful, sacrificial way of living. This God who is love is worthy of our worship!

            Sustainer.

            God didn’t just speak the world into existence and then sit back and let it do its thing. He actively sustains it. Hebrews 1:3: “And He… upholds all things by the word of His power.” Colossians 1:17b: “in Him all things hold together.”

            Yahweh.

            In the Hebrew, Yahweh is written with just the consonants, YHWH – yod, he, vav, he. In 2016, I got to see Jason Gray perform live at the Waterfront Stadium in Grand Haven, Michigan, and he talked about the story behind his song, “The Sound of Our Breathing.” He was inspired to write it after learning that each of the letters was an aspirated consonant, pronounced with an exhalation of breath. Like all the rest of creation, we are all crying out to God even when we don’t consciously realize it.

            I wrote this poem in college without any study or research. It was simply the outpouring of my heart as I pondered who God is. But even then, without all the details about etymology or translation that I’ve shared with you today, it was intentional that I put Yahweh last. This is God’s name that means roughly “I am.” In Exodus 3:13, Moses asks God for his name, and God’s response in verse 14 is, “I AM WHO I AM.” This is the covenant-keeping, never-changing God. He is infinite, eternal, defined within himself. In John 18, Roman soldiers hunt down Jesus to take him to trial and eventually crucifixion, and when he declares himself to them with the words, “I am He,” they fall down.

            This is the God who is worthy of all praise. He is great and exalted. And he is love.

            I know this is one of my longer posts, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it, because I think it is amazing and encouraging to marvel at this wonderful and wondrous God we serve. Do you serve him? I hope so. I want to serve him better.

            I wrote “YHWH” in 2013, and five years later, I wrote “The Name of God”. Someday, I’ll receive a new name that no one will know besides me and the God who gives it to me. Until then, I’m going to try to figure how best to express God’s name.

The Name of God

            God

I stop and ponder it

            What lies within that name?

            Vastness

I cannot comprehend

            The glory my God claims

            Creator

Forming galaxies

            From chaos speaking order

            Power

Without limit

            To fill all creation’s borders

            Judge

Of all the nations

            Right and wrong are in his scales

            Perfect

He determines

            That true justice does prevail

            Father

I draw near him

            He protects me in his love

            Tender

He is faithful

            As he guides me from above

            Savior

I am rescued

            My hope rests in he who died and rose

            Redeemer

He’s the sacrifice

            Through humility he chose

            Spirit

Speaking wisdom

            Who seals the saints with power

            Sacred

He holds honor

            Glorifying Son and Father

            King

I bow the knee before

            He reigns – no error in his ways

            Enthroned

From all eternity

            He will rule all my days

 I learned some new things while writing up this episode. You can find links below to the sources I found most valuable. There’s also a link to a Rabbit Room article where Jason Gray shares the story behind his song “The Sound of Our Breathing”. Enjoy!

Sources:

NET Bible

https://netbible.org/bible/Matthew+1

Old Testament Hebrew Lexical Dictionary

https://www.studylight.org/lexicons/eng/hebrew.html

What is the difference between lord, Lord and LORD?

https://www.ancient-hebrew.org/god-yhwh/difference-between-lord-Lord-and-LORD.htm

What was the temple veil? What is the meaning of the temple veil being torn in two when Jesus died?

https://www.compellingtruth.org/temple-veil-torn.html

The Origin of the Name “Jehovah”

https://mcarthurdrcoc.com/the-origin-of-the-name-jehovah/

Additional reading:

Is The Name Of God The Sound Of Our Breathing?

https://www.rabbitroom.com/post/is-the-name-of-god-the-sound-of-our-breathing

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Sweater Weather

    Knit and purl, knit and purl

Or working in the round

     The click of needles, scratch of yarn

Compose the telltale sound

     Now I wear a cozy sweater

For the best days of the year

     To celebrate that sweater weather

Once again is here

            Say what?! Or do you knit?

            As I was scrolling through my poetry file, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to tackle next. It was fun writing episodes 7 and 21 – “Got Chemistry” and “Beneath the Leaves” – for the chance to delve into topics I find fascinating, so when I stumbled across this long-forgotten poem, I saw opportunity to again dive deeper into unsuspected depths. But let’s start with how I got into knitting.

            Or, actually, let’s take a brief look at my introduction to the term “sweater weather” itself, and then we’ll dive into my knitting story.

            When cooler weather comes, odds are about 80% or higher that on any given day, you’ll find me in a sweater. I’m not sure of the current sweater count in my closet, but it’s embarrassing, and I’m running out of room on that shelf. And though I love all our lovely Michigan seasons, my favorite is fall, and it used to be winter. In college, I had a roommate who shared my love of sweaters and fall, and she’s the first person I heard use the term “sweater weather”.

            But to see where my knitting story began, we actually have to back up further – not out of college, but have I not told you yet: I switched colleges twice on the path to my degree, and that doesn’t count a community college class one summer between.

            I think so far, any college stories have come from my time at Michigan Tech, where I spent three years, but before that, I spent a semester at Cedarville University and partial quarter at Kettering University at the start of my college journey. My knitting journey began at Cedarville.

            There were a couple ladies I met volunteering who were juniors while I was a freshman, and they were into knitting – one of them so much so that she dreamed of someday raising sheep and spinning their wool into yarn. And perhaps unsurprisingly, we discovered that all of us shared an appreciation for Jane Austen’s works. Then I learned from them that BBC had created a 4-hour miniseries of Emma, and it was decided that we should have a couple movie nights to watch it.

            At the second movie night, I was supplied with some no-longer-wanted purple acrylic yarn and a couple large knitting needles. Twelve years later, I understand all the better why coarse, cheap, extremely purple yarn would have been willingly sacrificed to a novice knitter.

            Anyway, I was shown the basics of knitting and purling and set to practice on about a foot wide strip of stitches. My tension was inconsistent, and there were random holes in my knitting, but I laid the groundwork for the skill, and that may have been all I ever would have done if I hadn’t met Emily at Michigan Tech.

            But let’s pause there for few minutes. What is knitting versus purling? If you’re wearing a knit shirt right now, you already have a great learning prop handy. Preferably, it would be a sweater because the coarser the fabric, the easier the knit stitches will be to see.

            So, if you’re looking down at your shirt now, you can see on the outside that the fabric consists of columns of many little Vs of thread or yarn. Now look at the backside of the fabric – the inside of your shirt. You’ll notice there are many little bumps instead of Vs. You’re looking at the effect of knitting and purling.

            When you knit, all the little bumps get piled behind your knitting needles, facing away from the knitter. Purling is the reverse of knitting and piles all the little bumps in front of your knitting needles, facing towards the knitter. Since flat knitting is worked in rows, the workpiece is turned at the end of each row. So, if the knitter uses the knit stitch in both directions, bumps get piled on both sides, and you get a dense fabric called garter stitch. But if the knitter uses the knit stitch in one direction and the purl stitch in the opposite direction, all the bumps get piled on one side, and you get the smooth, traditional appearance of knit garments such as your shirt is likely sporting; this is called stockinette stitch.

            While we’re examining our shirts, I have one last thing to point out before we return to the story. Does your sweater have cuffs? If so, they’re likely ribbed. Look closely. Do you see how the ribs have little Vs and the troughs between them have little bumps? Ribbing follows a pattern of knit, knit, purl, purl, knit, knit, purl, purl. Cool, isn’t it?

            Okay, back to the story.

            At Michigan Tech, I eventually ended up in the same major as my good friend, Emily, and I’m not sure if it’s an accurate memory, but I have a picture in my mind’s eye of sitting next to her in the back row of our Materials Characterization class knitting a dish cloth. Certainly, that was one of the first knitting projects I tackled under her tutelage. It’s a nice, simple pattern, but it does introduce the skills of increasing and decreasing stitch count in a row, as well as yarnovers to create intentional holes for lacework. Then I was onto a scarf and mittens. A scarf’s about as simple as you can get, but mittens require knitting in the round on double-points, which is significantly trickier.

            Standard knitting needles are straight with points at one end and discs at the other end to prevent the stitches – or loops of yarn – from sliding off the back. They’re used for the flat, back-and-forth method I talked about earlier. Double-points, as you may imagine, have points as both ends. Once you cast on the number of stitches for the beginning of your project, you divvy them up between three or four double-point needles and then join the yarn in a circle and work in the round, using an additional double-point to work the stitches. For larger items, you can get circular needles where the two needles are attached by a thin cord.

            My next several projects were whatever Emily was working on, and since she’d been knitting all her life, I had lots of opportunities to grow in my knitting skills.

            I have the sneaking suspicion that I’m forgetting some projects at this point, but whether knitting patterns Emily chose or those I selected myself, I’ve still been learning a new skill with just about every knitting project I tackle.

            With a triangular scarf/shawl, I learned to do fancy lacework. With wool slippers, I learned to cast off two edges together and felt wool. (You know how if you accidentally dry a wool sweater, it tightens up and shrinks? Well, some knit items are intentionally knit oversized with wool yarn and subsequently washed in hot water and dried to get that same effect. The process is called felting.) An infinity scarf gave me reason to learn a provisional cast-on, a method made to allow the end of a column to join almost invisibly to the start. A hooded poncho introduced me to short rows, where a garment is shaped by turning the workpiece before the whole row has been knitted. A winter headband required me to learn to knit cables, using a small hook to hold stitches and shift them over in their row.

            The possibilities with hand-knit creations are many. There are many sturdy, fancy, or embellishing stitch options. And if you happen to have experience with sewing patterns, you can build on that with knitting to use measurements and gauge count – stitches per inch – to shape and modify clothing patterns as a treat for yourself or gift for loved ones.

            Even if I haven’t inspired you yet to take up knitting, I hope you are at least a little more appreciative of what has gone into the making of the clothes we wear. Just wait until you hear about the history of knitting.

            Take a guess which country knitting originated in…

            Did you guess Norway, Sweden, Germany, The Netherlands? Maybe England or the U.S.? Wrong on all counts. If you guessed Egypt, you’d be in agreement with the knitting historians – who knew there was such a thing? Okay, so I don’t know that they’re specifically historians for knitting, but whoever they are, their best guess is that knitting originated in Egypt. Egyptian socks have been found, dating back to somewhere between the third and fifth centuries, that were constructed using a process called nålbindning to create a fabric very similar to that of knit garments. And get this: people have been wearing socks with sandals for a couple millennia now. These early socks have two lobes for the toes to allow the thong of a sandal to slip between the wearer’s toes.

            Actual two-needle knit garments have been found in Egypt and North Africa, estimated to be from between 1000 and 1400 A.D., and they’re complexly patterned enough to suggest that the knitters were quite experienced by that time.

            Whichever year knitting was originally invented, it was found in an eleventh century Spanish tomb and depicted in a fourteenth century painting. But perhaps most telling of all of the spread and importance of the craft, in 1268, France established knitting guilds, and England followed in the next century. The guilds of both countries required would-be members to produce specific knit items to demonstrate their skill and versatility.

            But even if the Egyptians, Spanish, and French did take up knitting sooner than the English, Englanders were the first to use the purl stitch, starting in the 16^th century, and then the fad of knit stockings took off. The queen encouraged the formation of knitting guilds, and in 1589, Englishman William Lee invented the stocking frame, the world’s first knitting machine. The original model had eight needles to an inch, but after the queen denied his patent on the grounds that the fabric was too coarse, he modified it to accommodate twenty needles per inch. However, the queen denied his patent again, afraid of the negative effects his machine might have on the economy, putting many out of work.

            Tempted as I am to spend some time talking about the queen’s commendable concern for how industrialization might negatively impact her subjects, let’s stay on topic. Despite Lee’s patent being refused, the concept of his machine was still in use for the next 200 years, when new developments appeared.

            In 1759, Jedediah Strutt received a patent for his rib and garter stitch attachment for the knitting machine, and in 1816, Marc Brunel designed the first circular knitting machine, which created tubes of fabric – very convenient for making socks.

            Now if you’re a knitter yourself or have seen someone knit, you may be curious how a knitting machine can possibly produce the same results as hand-knitting. And for that, I want to give you a couple relevant examples from my childhood.

            I know I said that I learned to knit in college, but I actually got my first taste of knitting in elementary school; I just didn’t know at the time that was what I was doing.

            A friend introduced me to “finger crocheting”, as she called it, but once I learned the traditional knitting method, I recognized the stockinette stitch pattern in the chain her method produced. If you’d like to see what I’m talking about, do a web search for something like “four-finger knit” and watch some videos. This method produces a row of four stitches where each finger is acting as a needle or hook. Imagine then if you instead had tens or hundreds of needles what you could produce. But how would the machine grab each loop of yarn to pull it up over the last row? Enter childhood example number two.

            Have you ever heard of latch hook kits? I had an Eeyore one as a kid. The latch hook tool used is a little metal crook with a hinged piece of metal that closes the loop. The hook opens to enclose a strand of yarn and then closes to safely pull that strand through the fibers that surround it. And this technology solves the knitting machine dilemma. Add in modern electronics, and there are now knitting machines that can be programmed to knit patterns too.

            That’s the basic history of knitting, but if you want to learn more or see some of the amazing creations knitters have brought into being, check out my sources: “The history of hand-knitting” on the Victoria and Albert Museum’s website, “History of Knitting - A Resource Demystifying the Origins of Knitting” on the Makers’ Mercantile site, or “The Surprisingly Controversial History of the Knitting Machine” at Interweave.com. I did get a kick out of this little tidbit from the V&A:

_{The Cappers Act of 1571 stated that every person above the age of six years (except for "Maids, Ladies, Gentlewomen, Noble Personages, and every Lord, Knight and Gentleman of 20 Marks Land") in England on Sundays and holidays should wear (except when travelling), "a Cap of Wool knit, thicked and dressed in England, made within this Realm, and only dressed and finished by some of the Trade of Cappers, upon pain to forfeit for every Day of not wearing three Shillings four Pence".}

Ridiculous laws we may have, but at least we’re not fined for all the days we don’t wear knit caps.

            I hope you enjoyed this little history of knitting and that for all you non-knitters out there, you wonder every now and then as you look at your knitted clothing how long it would take to knit by hand and whether you would ever want to give knitting a try…though I wouldn’t recommend trying the thread-fine knitting of a T-shirt.

            My knitting is calling to me from across the room, so I bid you adieu and close with:

Sweater Weather

     Knit and purl, knit and purl

Or working in the round

     The click of needles, scratch of yarn

Compose the telltale sound

     Now I wear a cozy sweater

For the best days of the year

     To celebrate that sweater weather

Once again is here

Deliberate Love

            Lord, I admit my ways are reckless

I so seldom count the cost

            Until I come to face the consequence

And my opportunity is lost

            It’s only when I walk in your ways

That I deeply think before I act

            In imitating you, my Lord,

I find my life is kept on track

            For your ways are not reckless

Your plans are laid with care

            You have fully weighed the outcome

So great love does not lead you to err

            When you laid down your life for me

You recognized all it would entail

            Deliberately, you chose the cross

And your resolution did not fail

            I have confidence to follow you

And your love is made so clear

            Because you’re careful but not cautious

In the ways you bring me near

            So rejoicing, I say thank you

As I strive to follow you

            I will be deliberate

To obey in all I do

            Have you heard the song “Reckless Love” by Cory Asbury? If you listened to contemporary Christian radio or attended a contemporary worship service between 2017 and 2020, there’s a pretty decent chance that you have. But either way, let me share a few verses of the song with you before I get into unpacking the title poem:

_{Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me}

_{You have been so, so good to me}

_{Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me}

_{You have been so so kind to me}

_{Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God}

_{Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the 99}

_{And I couldn't earn it}

_{I don't deserve it, still You give yourself away}

_{Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God}

_{When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me}

_{You have been so, so good to me}

_{When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me}

_{You have been so, so kind to me}

            Let me start by saying that I agree with most of it. Zephaniah 3:17 (in the ESV) says, “The Lord your God…will exult over you with loud singing.” Genesis 2:7 states, “Then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being.” And part of the definition of the Hebrew word hesed, often translated “love” in English Bibles, incorporates faithfulness, never-ending-ness. Jesus shares the parable of the lost sheep in Matthew 18:12-14 to indicate the depth of his individual care for each of us. Romans 5:8 tell us that “God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” And Ephesians 2:8-9 expands on this with “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God;  not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

            Here’s the only part I disagree with: “Reckless Love”. The Oxford Languages definition of reckless: “without thinking or caring about the consequences of an action”. So, if you want to listen to a song about reckless love, check out “Reckless”, by Alabama. Their song includes a line that says, “I could care less where it leads us”. It’s a song about a young couple hitting the road with no plans, running away from everything because they figure it will all work out okay just having each other. To call God’s love “reckless” cheapens who he is and what he has done for us. And so I wrote “Deliberate Love” after one too many times singing “Reckless Love” in church.

            Now, to be fair, I do want to share Cory Asbury’s perspective as well. On June 14, 2017, he posted on Facebook to clarify his meaning in calling God’s love reckless. You can look up the full post if you’d like, but I’m going to share just a piece:

_{When I use the phrase, “the reckless love of God”, I’m not saying that God Himself is reckless. I am, however, saying that the way He loves, is in many regards, quite so. What I mean is this: He is utterly unconcerned with the consequences of His actions with regards to His own safety, comfort, and well-being. His love isn’t crafty or slick. It’s not cunning or shrewd. In fact, all things considered, it’s quite childlike, and might I even suggest, sometimes downright ridiculous. His love bankrupted heaven for you. His love doesn’t consider Himself first. His love isn’t selfish or self-serving. He doesn’t wonder what He’ll gain or lose by putting Himself out there. He simply gives Himself away on the off-chance that one of us might look back at Him and offer ourselves in return.}

Of course, I hadn’t read this post when I wrote the poem sitting in church that day. And though I agree too with his points about the selflessness and extravagance of God’s love, his love is not ridiculous or reckless; it is pure.

            Why do I think this matters so much? Because God does care about the consequences of his actions. He has counted the cost and decided that he is willing to pay it. He didn’t act on a whim but considered how best to redeem and restore human hearts and lives and this beautiful world he has made while illuminating it with his glory. And that very care and forethought is part of what makes his love so precious. Jesus sweat drops of blood in the Garden of Gethsemane as he prayed, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42), and on the cross he cried out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46). Jesus knew what he was getting himself into, and he suffered greatly in the loving sacrifice he made. Hebrews 12:2 tells us that “for the joy set before Him [He] endured the cross, despising the shame,” but this plan started long before Jesus came to earth in human form.

            Flip back to Genesis 3, when God finds Adam and Eve naked in the garden, ashamed of themselves after sinning, and you’ll read there the first prophecy of the savior to come in verse 15. Speaking to the serpent, who represents Satan, God says,

_{And I will put enmity}

_{Between you and the woman,}

_{And between your seed and her seed;}

_{He shall bruise you on the head,}

_{And you shall bruise him on the heel.}

Satan will do temporary harm, but he will ultimately be crushed through the seed of the woman. This is the same seed spoken of in Revelation 12:1-5, where the woman, Israel, bears “a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron; and her child was caught up to God and to His throne.”

            And lest you think that this was just a spur of the moment decision on the part of God, take a look at Ephesians 1:4-5: “He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will”. “Before the foundation of the world” he chose us! In his perfect knowledge and wisdom, God knew what was coming. He knew that if we had the choice to sin, we would take it. So, he laid out a plan beforehand to adopt us through Christ.

            When God told Abraham that through him all the nations of the earth would be blessed (Genesis 22:18), he was promising the coming of Christ. When he provided the sacrifice on the mountain so that Isaac could be spared (Genesis 22:13), he was picturing Christ’s sacrifice again. Before Christ came to be the perfect sacrificial lamb, innocent lambs were killed at Passover so their blood could protect the households feasting upon them (Exodus 12). The serpent raised up in the desert while the Israelites wandered in the wilderness (Numbers 21:6-9) hinted also at the crucifixion of Christ. Both were raised up, and both brought healing to whoever looked up to them in trust. And the promise to David that his house would be established on the throne forever (2 Samuel 7:16) was a promise that the Messiah would come through his line.

            So, why the wait then? If God was planning this miraculous salvation all along, why did thousands of years pass between the creation and fall and the coming of Christ? Romans 5:6 answers: “at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.” Hebrews 9:26 describes the timing of his coming as the “consummation of the ages”.

            This is deliberate love that waits patiently through millennia for the best timing in which to make the ultimate sacrifice. Romans 5:6-8: “For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for the good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

            Lord, I admit my ways are reckless

I so seldom count the cost

            Until I come to face the consequence

And my opportunity is lost

            Have you found yourself in that place – too quick to say or do something you’ll regret? Sin is easy in the moment, but it bears rotten fruit. Whether sins of omission or commission, I often find myself afterwards wondering how I haven’t yet learned my lesson, why I wasn’t able to think forward to the point where I would know the greatest goodness of God’s ways and the pain and tension of serving self. This type of ill-considered behavior is why “reckless” shows up in the list of incriminations in 2 Timothy 3:4, describing how people will act wrongly in the last times.

            It’s only when I walk in your ways

That I deeply think before I act

            In imitating you, my Lord,

I find my life is kept on track

            But when I “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17), “tak[e] every thought captive” (2 Corinthians 10:5), and “discipline my body and make it my slave” (1 Corinthians 9:27), I find the way of life.

            For your ways are not reckless

Your plans are laid with care

            You have fully weighed the outcome

So great love does not lead you to err

            When you laid down your life for me

You recognized all it would entail

            Deliberately, you chose the cross

And your resolution did not fail

            God decided before time began that he would give up a part of himself in the person of Christ so that we could be reconciled to him without his justice being compromised. He indicated in various ways through time what type of sacrifice and savior he would provide. He knew and considered the cost, but at the right time, he moved forward with his plan anyway.

            Have you ever decided to do something sacrificial and noble but had to wait a while for the right time? I find that can sometimes be harder than an immediate sacrifice. An immediate sacrifice doesn’t give me time to overthink and reconsider. But if I have time to ponder, I also have time to potentially reason myself out of it or lose my resolve or courage. God didn’t have that problem. He fully recognized the price of interruption to the perfect relationship within the three-person completion of himself. And Christ knew what the anguish of God’s forsaking wrath and judgment would feel like in a way we in our finitude cannot fully grasp. He laid down his life anyway.

            I have confidence to follow you

And your love is made so clear

            Because you’re careful but not cautious

In the ways you bring me near

            So rejoicing, I say thank you

As I strive to follow you

            I will be deliberate

To obey in all I do

            “Careful but not cautious”. God put a lot of care into the planning of his redemption of human lives, human souls. He is full of care for us. But he isn’t cautious. There is no sense of self-preservation in his laying down of himself. And this kind of God is one who is worthy of my worship, worthy of my service and all my life. I can trust him because his timing is perfect and his actions are deliberate. This is a love to rest securely in.

            I do rejoice that this quality of love has been tendered to me by the almighty, ever-faithful God. And because I see him as altogether magnificent and admirable, I desire to imitate him, to walk in his ways. His love is deliberate, and to please him, to find the way of life, my actions and love must also be deliberate. I will strive to obey him.

            When I was still at the church where I was introduced to “Reckless Love”, I tended to replace the word “reckless” with “awesome” while I was singing. Back in middle school, awesome was one of the “in” words, and anything from pizza to your mom could be awesome. But I remember one Sunday in church the pastor was talking about what awesome really meant. Awesome refers to something that is awe-inspiring, and he suggested that awesome is a word that should be reserved for God and his works. And what could be more awe-inspiring than God’s love? The moments I catch clear glimpses of it, I am overwhelmed with a humbling gratitude which sometimes leaves me bereft of words and always makes me aware that my words are inadequate to express what has been done for me.

            God is not reckless, nor is his love. Awesome is the word. Deliberately awesome.

Deliberate Love

            Lord, I admit my ways are reckless

I so seldom count the cost

            Until I come to face the consequence

And my opportunity is lost

            It’s only when I walk in your ways

That I deeply think before I act

            In imitating you, my Lord,

I find my life is kept on track

            For your ways are not reckless

Your plans are laid with care

            You have fully weighed the outcome

So great love does not lead you to err

            When you laid down your life for me

You recognized all it would entail

            Deliberately, you chose the cross

And your resolution did not fail

            I have confidence to follow you

And your love is made so clear

            Because you’re careful but not cautious

In the ways you bring me near

            So rejoicing, I say thank you

As I strive to follow you

            I will be deliberate

To obey in all I do

‍

Light My Fire

            Father, light my fire every day –

a blaze that honors you

            Tune my heart to beat with yours

Cleanse my lips for speech that’s pure

            You are everlasting

and you are my soul’s delight

            Please free me from the lesser things

which make my lamp less bright

            Show me how to be all yours

in humility and love

            Make me strong to act with discipline

where righteousness is tough

            Give me faith that moves the mountains,

hope right now from what shall be

            Compose my nature to be yielding

as your hands are shaping me

            Though you slay me,

I will trust you

            Your lovingkindness is forever

            Christ, come quickly

I am waiting

            as your bride to be near ever

            With fear and trembling

I work with you

            in this gift of great salvation

            You are at work within me

to want and live out

            your commission

            Holy God, I’m wholly yours

To live is Christ and death is gain

            Make me fearless in these battles

Your victory has long been claimed

            Perhaps it’s fitting that this poem is where I pick up again as I go back into writing and recording. It’s the first poem I’ve written in about a month, and it’s also been a few months since I recorded a podcast episode – I had quite a backlog to work through.

            But here I am back again. And we’re going to do the usual: the backstory of the poem and unpacking the scriptural truths within.

            The backstory is pretty simple – at least on the surface. A part of me is sad when I haven’t written for a while – particularly poetry. A couple weeks ago, there was snow, and I thought that I should have a poem within me for it, but I didn’t take the time to look and see. But this week was an unusual one for me. I was actually home three weeknights, so I spent some additional time in God’s word, and then a friend sent me a recording of a song she had recently written. And I thought that I should probably write a poem. So, I started with “Father, light my fire every day – a blaze that honors you”.

            The Bible is rich with imagery of God being a light, a fire, and it seems clear we’re meant to catch that blaze:

Hebrews 12:29 – “for our God is a consuming fire”

John 1:4-5 – “In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”

Psalm 18:28 – “For You light my lamp; / The Lord my God illumines my darkness.”

Matthew 5:14-16 – “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”

Philippians 2:15 – “so that you will prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world,”

            God is a fire. Consider some of the throne room imagery from episode 11: “Tongues of Fire”. He is blazing brightly with holy glory. He lights the world in a way that makes the darkness recoil uncomprehendingly.

            Last night, I walked on lit trails through the woods not far from my home, and I savored the imagery it presented. I have walked trails through the woods in the daytime before and mentally pictured the path as light and woods around as darkness, but last night, I was seeing it. The woods around were ominously dark, but my path was illumined, and I sang out praises to my God. “The Lord my God illumines my darkness.”

            This world is dark, but God lights it up. This world is scary, but God is my safe place.

            And God desires for his children to light up this dark world. He is our light, but he wants us to light this world.

            I want my life to honor God, to light this world, but unless he lights my lamp, I grow dim. There is the risk that I will become like the church of Ephesus in Revelation 2:4 – “But I have this against you, that you have left your first love.” So, I come like David in Psalm 51, verse 12, with the plea: “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation / And sustain me with a willing spirit.”

            “Father, light my fire every day – a blaze that honors you”. I don’t want to just be a single candle flickering dimly in the darkness. I want to be a bonfire heaped so high that the neighbors are wondering whether they should call the fire department.

            Tune my heart to beat with yours

Cleanse my lips for speech that’s pure

            I think the biggest recurring, perpetual sin struggle in my life has been what comes out of my mouth. No surprise, considering the truth of James 3:8 – “But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison.” And yet, I want to experience greater victory. So, I made myself a 6-week study to delve deeper into what God’s word has to say about speech – its purpose, its dangers, and the power of the tongue. And I have been so deeply aware of the twin truths of Luke 6:45 and 2 Corinthians 10:5:

“The good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth what is good; and the evil man out of the evil treasure brings forth what is evil; for his mouth speaks from that which fills his heart.”

“We are destroying speculations and every lofty thing raised up against the knowledge of God, and we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ,”

What fills my heart is what will come out of my mouth. And that is why I am to be taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. So, I asked God to tune my heart to beat with his because I want my heart to feel as his heart, my mind to think as his mind. And I know I will of necessity fall short – just consider Isaiah 55:8-9 – “’For My thoughts are not your thoughts, / Nor are your ways My ways,’ declares the Lord. / ‘For as the heavens are higher than the earth, / So are My ways higher than your ways / And My thoughts than your thoughts.’” – but I ask anyway because I want to be an imitator of Christ. And I believe that if my heart is pure, my speech will be also.

            You are everlasting

and you are my soul’s delight

            Please free me from the lesser things

which make my lamp less bright

            Coming into a poem without a plan, the most natural thing is to write to God. Because he is my soul’s delight. And I have beautiful hope because of his everlasting nature – Revelation 22:13 – “[He is] the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

            Why does he delight my soul? Because he is good and kind and just. If God was weak or let wickedness prosper without end, he would be a triviality. If he had not reached out to me in his sacrificial love to make me his own, he would be a source of fear. But as he is the source of my eternal hope who encourages, strengthens, and perfects me, he is a delight. If I bring him my heart in song, I know he hears and that I am welcomed and accepted. What a delightful God!

            But somehow, even with this blazingly bright glory continuously before me, I sometimes lose sight of the grandeur of God. I have a tendency to magnify lesser things – notably myself – and then my flame burns dim. “In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.” When my flame burns low, my life loses its luster. But when I delight in God, my life is redeemed and rich, and I find satisfaction not only in him but in the person he is forming me into. “Delight yourself in the Lord;… He will bring forth your righteousness as the light” (Psalm 37:4a, 6a).

            Show me how to be all yours

in humility and love

            Make me strong to act with discipline

where righteousness is tough

            I wonder how many times in my life I’ve asked God to help me serve him. It’s another one of the crazy, amazing things about walking with God. All he’s really asking me to bring is faith and obedience, and even those things, I may ask him for.

            This is very much a personal poem and prayer for me. “[H]umility and love”. How often is it a lack of one of those things that leads me into sin? I find as I write these up that there is so much scripture to teach me how to live, that addresses my spiritual needs. Philippians 2:3-4 – “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others”. I need God’s help in this, but if I can truly be humble in mind – believing God’s glory and the needs of others are more important than my glory and my perceived needs – my words are gentler and my actions are more selfless. I want to be able to believe those things continually, not just in theory but in practice.

            If you’ve listened to episode 12, “The Way of Discipline”, you know I believe strongly in the value of discipline to the Christian life – to any life really. But for as much as I try to practice it, and I do see growth, I still have so far to go. I need God’s strength to fight against temptation and spend my time well in ways that honor him.

            Give me faith that moves the mountains,

hope right now from what shall be

            Compose my nature to be yielding

as your hands are shaping me

In Matthew 11:23-24, Jesus says to his disciples, “Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and cast into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says is going to happen, it will be granted him. Therefore I say to you, all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted you.” And I don’t have any special desire to move a mountain into the sea, but I do have a desire for God and to see God answer prayer. I could write a whole other episode about prayer, and probably someday I should just to try again to sort through it for myself, but for now, I want to have the kind of faith in God and his workings which allows me to pray in complete trust and to believe that he is just as good as he says he is.

            And “hope right now from what shall be”. I originally wrote this “hope right now for what shall be”, but I changed “for” to “from” to get at the heart of the matter. 1 Peter 1:13b says to “fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ,” and I’m prone to only see that as a future hope. This life can be so hard and discouraging, and when I think of the hope of Christ, I don’t always let it light up my present as it could and probably should. David declares in Psalm 27:13-14, “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord / In the land of the living. / Wait for the Lord; / Be strong and let your heart take courage; / Yes, wait for the Lord.” I do see God’s goodness even here in the land of the living, and though the darkness sometimes seems so much greater than the light, I want to have hope right now because of what I know someday shall be, believing the goodness of God I see here is just a downpayment on the glorious good I will see throughout eternity.

            In this faith and hope then, I ought to yield to God, my potter. I am clay, and if I will surrender, he will shape me into the vessel he desires for me to be. This truth for me has always been encapsulated in the first verse of the old hymn, “Have Thine Own Way, Lord”, and then I tend also to think of the difficult verses in Romans 9 where Paul discusses God’s authority as the potter to make vessels for honorable purposes or for destruction:

_{You will say to me then, “Why does He still find fault? For who resists His will?” On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it? Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use?}

(Verses 19-21)

But today is the first day I’ve really paid much attention to the other place this concept shows up in scripture. In Isaiah 64:8b-9, the prophet’s plea to God is, “We are the clay, and You our potter; / And all of us are the work of Your hand. / Do not be angry beyond measure, O Lord, / Nor remember iniquity forever; / Behold, look now, all of us are Your people.”

            I often think that one of the reasons people should wish to know God is that he is our designer, and any perfectly designed item will find its best purpose doing what its designer created it to do. There is a challenging truth in Romans – the recognition that we cannot be other than God designed us to be. But there is encouraging truth in Isaiah – the recognition that because God has formed us, his desire is not to destroy us but to keep us for his purposes. So, even as I have wrestled for many years with wondering what God’s specific purpose is for me and why he made me as he did, I still take heart in the knowledge that as I follow after him and surrender to him, he will be faithful to use me for his intended purpose.

            Though you slay me,

I will trust you

            Your lovingkindness is forever

            Christ, come quickly

I am waiting

            as your bride to be near ever

            The yielding clay says as Job in chapter 13, verse 15a of the book by the same name, “Though He slay me, / I will hope in Him.” In some ways I think this is because of the same truth Peter expresses in John 6 when Jesus asks, “You do not want to go away also, do you?” and Peter responds, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life” (verses 67-68). Once we know God to be God in all truth, once we see him as he is, we have no choice but to follow him. There are times I wonder if my sin has eternally separated me from God, but then I still know that for me there is no other option than to follow him. The Spirit of God compels me. And in this, I take comfort because God’s Spirit only indwells his children.

            Psalm 136 repeats twenty-six times, “For His lovingkindness is everlasting,” between proclamations of God’s power and faithfulness. This is the God in whom we hope.

            Yet, I don’t particularly wish to be slain. I don’t desire to see evil unfold in this world. My heart hungers for redemption, to be at last fully aligned with God’s, for this world to be restored to the beauty and order God created it originally to have. I want to be with my maker in a world made right. So, I join with the Spirit as a part of Christ’s bride and say, “Come” (Revelation 22:17), and Jesus says, “Behold, I am coming quickly” (verse 12).

            With fear and trembling

I work with you

            in this gift of great salvation

            You are at work within me

to want and live out

            your commission

            So, what do we do in the waiting? “[W]ork out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Philippians 2:12b-13). Salvation is not just a snatching from hell; it is a setting onto a new path. We join with God, in awe of who he is, to conform to the image of Christ. And he works with us, causing us to desire his desires and calling us to work with him as ambassadors for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:20).

            Holy God, I’m wholly yours

To live is Christ and death is gain

            Make me fearless in these battles

Your victory has long been claimed

            I love the homophonic nature of “holy”, H-O-L-Y, and “wholly”, W-H-O-L-L-Y, and because the set apart God has consecrated me for his purposes, I am wholly his right now, even as I strive to live out that truth more faithfully. Paul famously wrote in Philippians 1:21-23:

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. But if I am to live on in the flesh, this will mean fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which to choose. But I am hard-pressed from both directions, having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better;

And the longer I live and walk with God, the more my heart echoes these sentiments. While I am here on this Earth, my purpose is to bear fruit which glorifies my maker, but the time that is coming when I am with Christ forever will be gloriously good beyond anything I can imagine.

            And while I am here, I stand confident in the truth of Romans 16:20a: “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” Colossians 2:15 says, in regard to what Christ accomplished on the cross, “When He had disarmed the rulers and authorities, He made a public display of them, having triumphed over them through Him.” Christ has already won the victory, but we fight on until the day that his victory is incontestably proclaimed throughout all creation. I am a serpent-crusher because of Christ, so I walk in confidence.

Light My Fire

            Father, light my fire every day –

a blaze that honors you

            Tune my heart to beat with yours

Cleanse my lips for speech that’s pure

            You are everlasting

and you are my soul’s delight

            Please free me from the lesser things

which make my lamp less bright

            Show me how to be all yours

in humility and love

            Make me strong to act with discipline

where righteousness is tough

            Give me faith that moves the mountains,

hope right now from what shall be

            Compose my nature to be yielding

as your hands are shaping me

            Though you slay me,

I will trust you

            Your lovingkindness is forever

            Christ, come quickly

I am waiting

            as your bride to be near ever

            With fear and trembling

I work with you

            in this gift of great salvation

            You are at work within me

to want and live out

            your commission

            Holy God, I’m wholly yours

To live is Christ and death is gain

            Make me fearless in these battles

Your victory has long been claimed

Hold This Promise

          In the sound of summer raindrops

Please hear me whisper, “I love you”

          And when the night is silent

Won’t you know that it’s still true

          And in the scent of autumn leaves

Find reminder that I care

          As I come before the Father,

You are often in my prayers

          When the snow is softly falling

Like so many kisses on your cheek

          Still please hear this message

Even when the world cannot speak

          So as spring renews the world with life

And we see so clearly our God’s love

          You’ll know my love for you’s unending

As I follow my Father up above

          Please hold this as a promise

And don’t let your heart be blue

          Time and distance will not dampen

The love I have for you

            Talking to a friend recently, this poem came to mind. We were talking about the trickiness of relationships and trusting in another person’s love. In particular, we were talking about those people who are or have been in our lives who seem sad when they don’t talk to us for a while but aren’t always very good about calling us.

            For me, one of those people was my grandma. And I don’t mean the grandma you’ve heard me mention several times before. I mean my other grandma. Unfortunately, children aren’t the most considerate humans on earth, and I did have a favorite grandma, and that was probably a little too clear when I was a child. But you know, when we look back, we often get to see ways that God is being faithful and generous that we couldn’t see or see as clearly earlier on in the story.

            My Grandma Paul was probably my favorite person on earth, though she might have been tied with my mom. But my Grandma Waltz loved me just as deeply.

            The song “Blessings”, by Laura Story, almost always makes me tear up when I hear it. I’d like to share a pertinent piece of it with you:

_{We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things}

_{'Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?}

_{We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
And all the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe}

            I prayed for God to heal Grandma Paul, but he chose not to – not on this earth at any rate. And that’s one of those things where even if I got to do it over again and I got to choose, I think I’d still choose her healing. But one of the blessings that came out of God’s different plan was that I got to draw much closer to my Grandma Waltz. I had eight years with her after I lost my Grandma Paul. She wrote me letters through college and afterwards. I tried to call her pretty regularly. I would stop over to have lunch and/or play Scrabble together. We got to go to church together when I was in town visiting my parents. I started a tradition of spending Mother’s Day with Grandma and Mom, going out to lunch together and playing mini golf afterwards. I had the privilege of getting to build a friendship with Grandma woman-to-woman, two sisters in Christ.

            But sometimes life was busy, and I would forget or not make time to call for a while. And then maybe I’d get a letter from Grandma. And sometimes she was concerned that she’d done something wrong – such is the vulnerability of love. The more deeply we love, often the more afraid we become of losing the beloved’s love. So, I wrote “Hold This Promise” for Grandma, to reassure her that always, in every season, I would keep loving her. And I tried telling her that she could always call me, and even if I wasn’t able to answer at the time, I would call her back as soon as I was able.

            And I think this is just a snapshot of what love and friendship are like in general, the difficulty of forging a deep and lasting bond. One great piece of wisdom from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice comes from the mouth of Charlotte Lucas: “There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely—a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement.”

            And though she was predominantly speaking of romantic love in this case, I think the principle is very applicable to platonic love as well. I was actually just speaking with a friend recently about how choosing to deliberately pursue friendship with someone, outside of just the convenience of naturally crossing paths with one another in day-to-day or week-to-week life, probably gives us ladies some good insight into how men feel when asking women out. Deliberate friendship, like asking someone out, has an inherent risk. There is the possibility of rejection. Maybe that initial liking wasn’t mutual. But then again, maybe it was. And whether it’s dating or just friendship, what’s the point of not asking? If the options are either 1) ask and be rejected 2) ask and be accepted or 3) don’t ask and never know if the feeling’s mutual, is the avoidance of rejection sufficient reason to miss out on the chance for a fantastic relationship?

            But then there’s Miss Lucas’s point. Don’t be the friend who only ever accepts invitations but fails to reciprocate…unless perhaps you were just trying to be nice but weren’t actually that interested in the friendship. Or if that’s just where you’re at in life at the moment: a little (or lot) too busy to be initiating plans, at least let the other person know how much you value her and appreciate the effort she puts in to make the friendship possible. Taking the lead in starting a friendship can be daunting; it gets tricky to know how to proceed if the other person seems to enjoy the friendship but doesn’t actively reciprocate. Most people want their friendships to be based on mutual liking.

The flip side of this is: if you honestly don’t have the time or inclination to invest in a new friendship, be honest with the other person. I’m not suggesting you should tell her the reasons you’re not interested, but if you don’t actually plan to ever follow through on a walk or coffee or dinner together, don’t say, “Yeah, we should do that some time.” Maybe the truth is, “You know, I’ve enjoyed talking with you, but I don’t think I have the time to invest in a new friendship right now.” Or you could always try: “Actually, I already do such-and-such” (pick an activity) “every other Thursday. Would you want to join me for that sometime?” Or just try to extricate yourself from the conversation before it gets to the point of making plans.

            Okay, so clearly I have some opinions on this. Friendship is a pretty important topic in my world. And though I may have wandered a little bit from my original plan in this podcast, I haven’t strayed from my main subject, which is the importance of communication, understanding, and logic in friendships.

            What?! Logic? Yes, logic. I’m not sure if it’s a universal problem, but I have enough evidence to say that it’s not just me who has a problem with holding onto logic in relationships. Someone takes hours to respond to a text, doesn’t return a phone call, never acknowledges a letter, or cancels a plan, and it’s way too easy to jump to conclusions, however ill-founded they may be. Sure, if there’s no history there, you might have just gotten your clue that there isn’t any future either. But if this is someone you’ve known for years and have a great friendship with, it’s a good time to take a deep breath and remind yourself of all the evidence you have that the person does, in fact, care about you and the friendship you share. And he’s probably not even offended by that one phrase you might have slightly misworded. Odds are, he’s been busy all day or there was a glitch with his phone or the letter never arrived or something urgent came up. But if you’re still concerned, try reaching out again.

            This is also where the communication and understanding come in. When there’s seemingly a snag in a friendship, talking it through is often a resolution to the problem, especially if we’re willing to try to see the situation from the other person’s perspective.

            I’ve had friends seemingly ignore written communication because they prefer to share their response in-person or over the phone, had friends go radio silent for a while only to find out they were having a rough time and didn’t feel as though they had the emotional bandwidth to connect with friends, and had friends step back for a bit because other responsibilities in life were overwhelming them. And when I’ve been able to talk to them again, my frustration has been replaced with compassion or sometimes a feeling of foolishness and contrition. I can be quick to internally blow things out of proportion, but when I ask questions and seek to understand where the other person is coming from, I usually end up learning that I should have held onto the unspoken promise of the other person’s love.

            Friendship is life-giving, but it can be hard as well. It requires patience and forgiveness. It requires us to be longsuffering – what a great, biblical word that’s fallen out of common vernacular. The Greek word translated as longsuffering in some versions of the Bible – often as patience in newer translations – is makrothumia, and it refers to reining in wrath or turmoil of the soul. (See https://www.olsenpark.com/Sermons07/Longsuffering.html if you’d like to learn more about the etymology of makrothumia.) This is the word used in 1 Corinthians 13:4 where Paul writes that “Love is patient”.

            We each come from different backgrounds with different preferences and perspectives on life. We face our own trials. And we have this regrettably ingrained tendency to see the world predominantly from the angle of how it affects us. So, our longsuffering looks a little different from God’s longsuffering. His is restraining the righteous wrath of a holy God to show kindness to flawed people in need of his grace. Ours must be rooted in a turning back to God, seeking to have his understanding and his love for those around us, leaving judgment and vengeance to God while seeking to live out his love…and recognizing that sometimes our understanding of a situation or person is entirely wrong.

            I wrote “Hold This Promise” for Grandma to assure her that in every season, my love for her was unchanging. But as I read over it today, I see in it the bigger truth of God’s steady love for us. In every season – with the stormy summer raindrops, the rustling autumn leaves, the softly falling snow, and the fresh growth of spring – he is providing for us, caring for us, showering down his love. His creation is declaring his faithfulness and care. And Christ himself is interceding for me with the Father (Romans 8:34).

            There are times I fail to see God’s love as clearly as I should, and his love is perfect. How much harder it is then to be perfectly confident in the love of imperfectly loving people!

            We walk with the faithful God in doubt and neediness, failing to understand him and his purposes, and all the while, he loves us with a love that is incomprehensibly vast, totally perfect, absolutely unchanging. As we wait upon him, we begin to have greater confidence in the steadiness of his love. And we have the opportunity to practice faithfulness in love that mirrors God’s faithfulness, to seek answers from friends in a way that pictures our wrestling with God. We learn about how to interact with people from the words of God, but we also learn about relationship with the unseen God from relationship with his image-bearers here on earth.

Hold This Promise

          In the sound of summer raindrops

Please hear me whisper, “I love you”

          And when the night is silent

Won’t you know that it’s still true

          And in the scent of autumn leaves

Find reminder that I care

          As I come before the Father,

You are often in my prayers

          When the snow is softly falling

Like so many kisses on your cheek

          Still please hear this message

Even when the world cannot speak

          So as spring renews the world with life

And we see so clearly our God’s love

          You’ll know my love for you’s unending

As I follow my Father up above

          Please hold this as a promise

And don’t let your heart be blue

          Time and distance will not dampen

The love I have for you

               Today, I’m bringing you a sequel. If you haven’t already listened to or read “Frank ’n‘ Snorg”, I recommend revisiting episode 4 before proceeding with this one. But of course, that’s up to you.

            If you have just finished listening to “Frank ’n‘ Snorg”, then perhaps you join with my friend in saying, “I want a sequel. Like I understand the point of the story was to end with ambiguity, but man am I curious on your thoughts if you think Frank ever was able to hang his new sign up?” And it’s true that the story ended intentionally with ambiguity, but I suppose twenty weeks of ambiguity is long enough to endure…even if Frank did have to wait much longer.

            At first, I wasn’t sure when I would include this as a podcast episode, since I didn’t know exactly how I intended to share the backstory, but a couple of my other friends have indicated that they would get around to the sequel much sooner if I recorded it versus leaving them to read it, so here I am doing that today.

            I’d also like to thank the friend who assigned me the task of writing the sequel, to be completed on a day she had to be away while I was her house guest. Deadlines are helpful, and having a stress-free, quiet environment with the company of a fluffy dog is ideal for writing imaginative stories.

            That said, let’s move on to the story. It’s a little longer than a standard episode, but I hope you enjoy it. I give you “Snorg ’n‘ Flork”!

            One day, after having lunch with Jenna in her Snorgusborg Bakery, Frank returned to his smithery and called out to Snorg, “Hey, Snorg, are you done with lunch? I was thinking maybe we could finish up that new suit of armor for Sir Snickelfritz this afternoon.” But he didn’t hear any answer. He wandered deeper into the shop, noticing uneasily how eerily quiet the place was. “Snorg?”

            Still there was no answer, but he was no longer surprised by that. The back door of the shop knocked lightly against its hasp, not quite latched from a rapid exit, and the rack of new lances was overturned with the former contents scattered across the floor.

            Frank carefully stepped across the mess, swung wide the door, and looked both ways down the alley onto which it opened. He saw some other scuffed or fallen things betokening the dragon’s hasty departure, but the dragon himself was not to be seen.

            Frank returned to the shop, secured the back door, checked that the forge was down to smoldering ashes, replaced the lances in their righted rack, and then left, flipping his sign to CLOSED and padlocking the main door behind him.

            Then, he dropped by Jenna’s Snorgusborg. She had been back in the kitchen, but at the sound of the entry bell, she emerged at the counter, a ready smile on her face. And then she saw Frank. “Oh, it’s you.” His face fell, and she noticed he looked concerned. “Sorry, I just thought maybe a new customer was here. Is something wrong?”

            “Yes, Snorg is gone.”

            “Snorg’s gone?! Do you have any idea where he went?”

            “I’m not sure, but I can tell which way he was going when he left. I just stopped by to let you know what’s going on. My smithery is closed for the day, and I’m going to go saddle Berg and try to find out where he went.”

            Jenna was brushing flour off her hands and starting to undo her apron strings. “Can I come with you?”

            Frank sniffed the air. “It smells like you have some strudels baking. I’d love for you to come with me, but maybe it would be better if Berg and I scope it out and report back to you this evening.” She was clearly sucking in a breath to protest when he continued, “And besides, if Snorg comes back to find us both gone, that would be kind of sad. You can send him out to find me if he comes back before me.”

            She gazed levelly at him a few moments before conceding, “Yeah, I guess so. Don’t leave for a minute. I’ll send some food with you.” Jenna disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a few wrapped bundles in her arms.

            “This is for you – pasty pie.” She handed him the first. “And this is for Snorg – apple strudel.” She handed him a very large bundle, and Frank looked a little disappointed. She smiled. “And this is also for you – strawberry rhubarb pie.”

            He beamed as he took the last of the packages. “I’ll give you a proper thank you tonight, kind miss.” He held out his hand as if to shake, and she gave him a funny look but placed her hand tentatively in his. He carried it quickly to his lips and then released her and disappeared into the street.

            Jenna stood there a full minute staring after the closed shop door and still hearing in her mind the reverberation of the bell. Had Frank changed? Finally, she shrugged and went back to the kitchen.

            But she found herself thinking about where Berg’s stable was and whether Frank would be riding back by the Snorgusborg in his pursuit of Snorg.

            She busied herself with punching down the rising French bread dough and then wandered out to the counter again and glanced out the window, chopped up some apples and tossed them in cinnamon and sugar before coming out to check that all the tables were properly wiped down and happening to observe the foot and equestrian traffic outside as she did so.

            And then there was Frank astride Berg, riding at a steady trot in the direction of Kenimull. She stopped her work to watch him. Did he see her when he glanced in her direction? She lifted her hand just as the bell clanged and she hurried back behind the counter. Funny that she’d never noticed before how well he rode. Without the clanging armor and falling visor, he had quite the impressive seat.

            She tucked the rag in a cubby beneath the counter and smiled at her patrons. “Welcome to the Snorgusborg! What can I get for you today?”

            Berg hadn’t been taken out much in the last week, so when Frank saddled him, he found the stallion fresh and eager to trot. While he tucked the baked goods into Berg’s saddlebags, he smiled over the pie and the look on Jenna’s face when he kissed her hand.

            Then he pulled his mind back to the task at hand and thought about what lay in the direction in which Snorg seemed to have disappeared. Not for many years had Frank been in the environs of Kenimull, and he wasn’t sure what the people around there were like.

            He took the shortest route through Linden, glancing towards the Snorgusborg as he rode through town. Bringing Jenna along on this adventure would have been fun, but she would lose a lot of business being out of her shop on a Wednesday afternoon.

            As Kenimull came into view off in the distance, Frank saw a farm boy approaching the main road leading a donkey. He looked singularly unenthused when he saw a man with the intangible bearing of an aristocrat preparing to speak to him. But Frank’s easy good nature soon banished this hesitation, and when Frank asked if the young man had happened to see or hear of a dragon come by recently, the youth lit up.

            “Oh, yeah! Frightful creature! We been havin’ lots o’ problems with goats an’ chickens disappearin’ for some months now. We was thinkin’ foxes might o’ been gobblin’ up the chickens, but wasn’t too sure about the goats. Wild dogs says Farmer Hitchins, but when Mr. Evans finds scorched feathers around his mostly empty coop, we knowed the truth of it.”

            Frank stared at him. “Some months, you say?”

            His informant nodded vigorously. “Yeah, but no one spotted the varmint until just last week. Little Susie Weaver had to visit the backhouse middle o’ the night, and she seen a flash o’ flame an’ heard the chickens squawkin’ somethin’ fierce. She run to get her pa, an’ when he brought out the lantern, half their birds was gone. Still smelled like brimstone from what I hears.”

            Frank had been thinking rapidly. He was trying to recall if Snorg had been unusually absent in the last few months. Had he eaten any less strudel? If the creature was feeling guilty, he hid it well beneath his helpful demeanor.

            “But you haven’t had any sheep disappearing?”

            “Nosirree.” He stroked his beardless chin. “Kind o’ funny, now as you mentions it.”

            Frank inclined his head in what was more of an acknowledgement than agreement. “Could you tell me what part of town has had the most problems?”

            The boy looked curiously at him. “Why – be you a knight here to slay the dragon?” Skepticism was apparent on his face.

            “No, I think my days as a knight are behind me, but there are sometimes other ways to resolve dragon problems.”

            “Dunno as I ever heard ’em, but you’s welcome to try.” He jerked his thumb back a little to the right of the way he’d come from. “Over thataway’s where we been havin’ the most problems.”

            Frank reached down a hand with a couple copper coins. “Thank you for your help. Here, my treat while you’re in town today.” The boy took the coins with a grateful nod, and then they shook hands and parted ways.

            As Frank rode Berg off at a gentle canter, he checked around for any likely stone outcroppings, while his mind refused to assent to Snorg having been busy rampaging all these months. And what changed today? Why would he have left in the middle of the day? Was the urge growing too great to resist? Maybe while he and Jenna were playing cribbage or attending routs and balls together or helping each other with projects around their shops, Snorg had been living this double life. He frowned. Jenna had always believed in the glossy green dragon, and Snorg had won Frank over too with time. But he realized now that he knew very little of what Snorg did outside of shop hours.

            During these reflections, Berg had wandered where he wished, and Frank didn’t snap back to reality until he heard a familiar voice, muffled and oddly echoing, bemoaning, “Oh, where can she have gotten to? Such beautiful scales,” followed by three quick sneezes.

            Frank nudged Berg in that direction, and then the muttering stopped. There was some loud sniffing, another sneeze, and “Frank?”

            He dismounted, looped Berg’s reins around a tree branch, and cautiously entered the cave. “Snorg?”

            A scraping step came towards him, tail swishing against the rock floor. He braced himself, feeling guilty for doubting his friend but unsure what to believe just then.

            But as soon as he saw Snorg’s face, his heart softened. A few sparkling teardrops still glistened on the scaly face, and Frank thought about what he’d just heard. “She”. “Beautiful scales”. Was there another dragon?! And if there was, was she the one killing the animals, or was that how dragons wooed and Snorg was at the bottom of it after all?

            “Snorg, what’s the matter?”

            He sniffled slightly, and Frank jumped back as Snorg cleared his sinuses and dried his tears with a small burst of flame. Snorg harrumphed before lamenting, “I can’t find her. The most beautiful dragon I ever saw – not that I’ve met lots of dragons – but there couldn’t be one prettier than she is. She smelled about my age too.”

            Frank suppressed a smirk at this last statement. “Uh, when did you meet her?”

            The dragon pouted. “I haven’t. I only saw her this afternoon while you were at lunch with Jenna.”

            Frank was conscious of a wave of relief washing over him. “Then you haven’t been here around Kenimull before?”

            Snorg seemed peeved at this question. “No. What’s that have to do with anything?”

            He fingered his pommel stone introspectively and hesitated before responding, “I spoke with one of the locals while I was out looking for you, and I hear a lot of their animals have been disappearing recently, and some flames and scorched feathers have them blaming a dragon for what’s been going on.”

            “Oh, I see.” A calculating, reptilian expression crept into the dragon’s eyes. “I see Jenna’s not with you, but you do have your sword.”

            Frank’s hands snapped up, palms out. “No, nothing like that! I hadn’t heard anything about the marauding dragon before I set out. You know I always travel with my sword. Here, Jenna actually sent something for you.” And he left the cave to go get the strudel.

            Seconds later, Snorg heard Frank yelling out, “No! Get away from him!” and Snorg popped his head out to see Berg frantically pulling at his reins, trying to escape a dragon slightly shorter and slimmer than Snorg. She had shiny magenta scales and a purple ridge running along her crown and down her neck, the color of which matched her elegant wings, and was just then reared back with flames building in her throat. Frank had seen Snorg lighting the forge enough times to know exactly what was going on, and Snorg understood the situation at a glance. He made a flying, swooping leap and landed directly between Berg and the dragon, his blue wings spread wide to fully shield the horse from the blast that he had landed just in time to stop.

            The other dragon snarled and crouched down ready to pounce, but as her eyes focused on her target, they suddenly widened, and she stopped her jump with a flaring of wings that pulled her weight back abruptly, and she floated back to the ground.

            She sniffed interestedly and began to half-circle the handsome green dragon.

            Frank wasn’t sure, but he thought it might have been a coquettish tone when the female dragon spoke. “You know, if you were to slay the beast for me and offer it roasted, that would get you further than this strutting show of courage.”

            Snorg grinned. He exchanged looks with Frank and checked on Berg over his shoulder. Frank sucked in his breath and was relieved at Snorg’s next words. “Any other beast, and I probably would, but this one belongs to my friend.”

            She recoiled and looked around apprehensively until she spotted Frank. “A human is your friend? His kind kills our kind.”

            Though his eyes narrowed, a twist of a smile curled Snorg’s snout. “Sometimes they do, but this one’s female taught him a better way.” Frank blushed at Snorg’s mention of Jenna, and then Snorg continued, “Speaking of his female, I have something better for you than chickens – Frank, what is in the saddlebag?”

            Frank suspected that Snorg could already smell exactly what was in the saddlebag, but he owed the scaly mischief-maker too much at present to make a big deal out of it. Instead, he sidled towards his horse, watchfully keeping away from the female as much as possible, and pulled out the oversized strudel. He held it up to Snorg, who temporarily seemed to ignore him as he stood to his full height, raised his curled front claws, spread his wings, arched his neck and slightly dipped his head, tail wrapped loosely around his back claws. “Snorg.”

            The maneuver appeared rather warlike to Frank, but the female seemed impressed and responded by crouching onto all fours in profile, tail stretched behind her, wings extended into a gliding position, and neck extended in one long line from her tail. “Flork.”

            Now Snorg took the strudel from Frank, and with a gust of flame, he burned away the wrappings, ever so slightly toasting the outside of the pastry. He then used one razor sharp claw to neatly slice the strudel, not quite down the middle. He offered the larger portion to Flork, who sniffed appraisingly and then consumed her piece in one gulp, tail twitching in pleasure.

            “Is there more of this deliciousness?”

            Snorg picked up the other piece and blinked slowly at it before offering it as well to his lady love. She gratefully munched it down and then rubbed her snout against his, to which he responded with a happy growl.

            The day had been growing late, so while they did their dragon thing, Frank pulled out his pasty and ate it thoughtfully. He wanted to get back to Jenna before she snuffed her candle for the night, but he also wanted to make sure Flork was done rampaging around Kenimull.

            In response to Snorg’s pitiful looks, Frank gave half his pie to the dragon, and when he finished his own portion, he stood to leave.

            “Snorg, are you coming back with me?”

            Snorg looked at Flork. “I have a marvelous lair.”

            “Ah, but can you hunt?”

            He nodded smugly. “Shall I show you tonight or tomorrow?”

            Her eyes gleamed. “A nighttime hunt is the more impressive.”

            “Tonight then.”

            Frank raised an eyebrow. “Not in Kenimull, I trust?”

            Mischief danced across the dragon’s face. He seemed on the brink of toying with the erstwhile knight but relented with, “No, not in Kenimull.”

            Frank rode back to Linden, uncertain of Snorg’s plans for the night but choosing to trust that he wouldn’t do anything regrettable and hoping to reassure Jenna of Snorg’s wellbeing before the dusk had turned to darkness.

            Upon reaching Jenna’s door, he was gratified by how quickly the door flew open, and he could see a solitaire game in progress on the table beside her candle. Long experience told him that she only played solitaire when her mind was too busy to properly count stitches in her knitting.

            “Frank! I didn’t know if you were still coming tonight. Is Snorg okay?” Her eyes traveled over his person, checking that all appeared to be well.

            “Yes, Snorg’s fine – maybe more than fine. Do you mind if I come in?”

            Jenna stepped aside. “Come on in.” She took her candle around to light a few lamps and then blew out the wick. She stirred up the coals in her fireplace and fed it some kindling before hanging a teakettle over the small blaze. “Tea?” she asked, but she was already setting out a couple mugs and spooning Frank’s favorite mint leaf blend into one of the infuser baskets he’d made for her. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him nodding while she measured dried chamomile into her own basket.

            “You know, you really should try selling these.”

            He smiled at her. “Maybe I will.”

            The faintest rosy blush tinted her cheeks, but it could have been the nearby fire.

            “So, you said you’d thank me properly tonight. Where’s my thank you?”

            A hint of chagrin touched his face. “Let’s aim for tomorrow. I got back later tonight than I expected.”

            She looked levelly at him, her blue eyes quizzical, before saying simply, “Okay. I guess that’s fine.”

            By habit, Frank cleaned the ashes from their trap beneath the fire grate, wiped down the tongs and poker, and swept the hearth. He straightened the wood and refilled the box while Jenna finished her game of solitaire.

            The kettle was then whistling stridently, so Jenna poured their tea and set out the slippers she’d knitted and felted for Frank.

            Sitting in two cozy chairs that faced each other before the fireplace, they cupped their clay mugs in their hands, and Jenna prompted Frank, “So, Snorg – he’s doing more than fine…”

            And Frank told her about the happenings of the day.

            Jenna interjected a few times, subsiding as Frank assured her he was just about to tell her the answer to her question, and when he finished, her eyebrows were raised. “Wow! Dragons move fast, huh? Are they engaged then? It sounds like he was inviting her to live in his lair with him.”

            “It did sound that way. I guess I should have known he had a lair, but honestly, I’d never given it much consideration.” He paused to take a swallow of tea. “This is perfect, as usual.”

            “Oh, thanks. It’s been a lot easier to make since you gave me those little baskets.”

            “I’m glad you like them.” He returned to the dragons: “I think Snorg might have to impress Flork with his hunting before she consents to mate with him.” Now, the fire’s glow, or something else, seemed to be making Frank’s cheeks pink as well.

            Jenna laughed. “Flork? Dragons sure have funny names.”

            “They would be odd names for people,” Frank agreed.

            Jenna took up her knitting again, and Frank continued the whittling project he had left by her fireside a few nights previous. When his tea was gone, he removed the slippers and stood to go.

            At the door, he turned. “I think I’ll be away from my smithery again tomorrow. If anyone asks about work, could you please let them know I plan to be back within a few days? And if it’s Sir Snickelfritz, I just need to finish the greaves, and then all will be ready for him.”

            Jenna nodded. “Sure!”

            “Thank you.” His hand was on the latch when her voice stopped him.

            “Frank.” He turned. “I’m sorry I said you were a bad knight. I was probably kind of rude. But you’re a great blacksmith, and I like how good you are at practical things.”

            He beamed at her. “I think I needed you to help me understand that being happy was better than being genteel.”

            “And are you happy?”

            “Happier by the day.”

            He held out his hand again, and a funny smile lifted the edges of her lips as she placed her hand in his. He kissed it. “See you tomorrow.”

            “Bright and early?”

            She blushed for real this time as his eyes met hers. “Bright and early.”

            The next morning, Frank had breakfast at the Snorgusborg and left with Berg’s saddlebags full of apple strudel. Jenna would have also sent him with more pasty, but he instead asked for rolls and tucked them alongside the cheese and sausage he had collected from his own larder.

            Frank rode back towards Kenimull and found the cave where Snorg had been the day before. He found a different tree to tie Berg to this time and soothed the nervous animal before cautiously making his way towards the nearby rocks.

            As he drew closer, he heard a rumbling noise that it took him a bit to identify as a dragon snoring. Actually, listening a little longer, he decided the sound was two dragons snoring. He stopped, torn between creeping forward to catch a glimpse of the glittering pair and sneaking away, as he suspected that startling a dragon out of his or her slumbers might not end well for the offender.

            While he stood there deliberating, the duet turned into a solo, as one of the snores transitioned to a deliberate snuffling. “Snorg, is that your human? I smell something.” The remaining snoring stopped too.

            “Hrrg?”

            Flork repeated her question. Frank remained still as he heard more snuffling.

            “Yes, that’s him.”

            “Snorg?” Franked called out questioningly.

            Snorg nuzzled Flork. “You can come in, Frank.”

            He entered cautiously. “So, uh, how was the hunt?”

            Flork smiled. “Excellent. Snorg caught deer for me and roasted them to perfection. Today, he shows me his lair.” Snorg preened himself with satisfaction.

            “Glad to hear it.” Frank was relieved to know that they had not been hunting more of the Kenimull animals. He looked at Snorg. “May I see your lair?”

            Snorg checked with Flork, who seemed to shrug. Snorg dipped his head to Frank. “Yes, you may see my lair. We’ll fly slowly so your horse can keep up.” He sidled over and spoke more quietly: “Did Jenna send more strudel?” Frank nodded and left the cave. When he came back, he proffered the bundles of strudel and watched Snorg demonstrate to Flork how to toast them just enough to remove the wrappings and give the outside a bit of a crunch, without blackening any of the edges.

            The two dragons gobbled up the strudels and then winged their way across the sky, back towards Linden. They dipped and dove and soared while Berg trotted along below.

            Snorg’s lair turned out to be high up in the cliffs overlooking a sparkling lake. Frank left Berg at the base of the cliffs, and Snorg gave him a lift up to the top. If Snorg had been paying any attention, he probably would have noticed that Frank was impressed. As it was, he mostly just noticed that Flork seemed to be impressed. “You do have a marvelous lair.”

            “Then, will you stay?”

            Her tail curled around his, and Frank looked away.

            “I would like to. But what will we eat? Are there many deer around here? The strudel – did you say it was? – is delicious, but I like meat.”

            “There are many deer.” He tilted his head at Frank. “Perhaps the humans will let us have some other animals too if we are helpful to them.”

            Frank shifted from foot to foot. “I can talk to the farmers about it. Maybe they would be willing to give you some animals in exchange for protecting their herds from other predators.”

            Flork’s eyes lit up. “Hunting the hunters could be fun. Please ask for us.”

            Frank nodded, and Snorg watched him, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. Dragon expressions were sometimes difficult to read, but Frank was pretty sure Flork wanted him to leave.

            He shifted a bit more before asking, “So, Snorg, have you told Flork about our smithery and the Snorgusborg?”

            Flork shook her head and waited expectantly for Snorg to speak. He told her about firing the forge for the smithery and oven for the bakery and getting paid in strudels. He also emphasized how the people of Linden were growing to see dragons as the amazing firebreathers they were rather than merely viewing them as monsters. She considered this before requesting of Frank, “May I meet your female? Then I will decide whether I would like to do this work with Snorg.”

            “I’ll see if Jenna can come back with me yet today. Maybe she can get one of the Crisp girls to watch the bakery for her.”

            Flork checked this with Snorg. “The girl is crisp? Like the strudels?”

            “No, it’s her name. The humans have two names – an everyday name and a family name.”

            “Strange. She’s lucky we’ve given up eating humans, or the temptation might be too much.”

            Snorg then flew the alarmed Frank back to Berg and returned to his lady love. While Snorg acquainted Flork with her new lair, Frank headed in the direction of Jenna’s Snorgusborg. He walked Berg part of the way, looping a feedbag over the horse’s ears and taking out his own lunch to snack at the same time. When they were both done, he remounted and rode into Linden.

            Frank found the Snorgusborg very busy when he arrived but was heartened by Jenna’s friendly smile and greeting of, “Hi, Frank!” He waited while she served her lunch crowd, and when there was a lull, he leaned against the counter and quietly explained the situation. She was already starting to untie her apron. “I’ll go ask Sarah right now. I think she’s hoping I’ll take her on full-time anyway, so I bet she’ll jump at the chance.”

            She started to make her way towards the door, but Frank exclaimed, “What about your customers?!”

            “Oh, you can watch the counter for ten minutes, can’t you?”

            “I can watch the counter, but I’m not sure I can handle the till and serve your customers. How about I go find Sarah while you watch the counter?”

            Jenna retied her apron. “Alright, but sometime you should learn how my bakery runs.”

            “Yes, and I’ll show you how to forge armor.”

            “Really? That would be great!”

            Frank was surprised. “Of course, if you’re interested.”

            “I am, but first, I want to meet Flork.”

            The smith walked out whistling and sauntered down to the seamstress’s shop, where the eldest Miss Crisp was clerking in the store and the younger was in back helping her mother pin pattern pieces together.

            Miss Sarah Crisp was indeed enthused at the prospect of minding the Snorgusborg for an hour or two, so Frank escorted her back with him, and with Sarah installed behind the counter, Jenna followed Frank out to his horse, where he swung up into the stirrups and offered her his arm to hoist her up behind.

            Over his shoulder, Jenna asked, “Can we gallop?”

            “Well, Berg just ate, so not on the way out, but remind me on the way back.”

            “Okay!”

            Back at the lair, Frank whistled loudly, and both dragons came spiraling down.

            Jenna went straight up to Flork. “You must be Flork. You have really nice scales.”

            To this, Flork responded by wrapping her tail around Jenna and shimmering with the sparks of her internal fire.

            “So, are you and Snorg a thing now?”

            “A couple? Yes, when dragons share a lair, it’s for life. But what about you and Frank? Snorg says you’re his female.”

            “Oh!” She looked at Frank. “Maybe we are. We’ve been seeing each other a while at least.”

            At this, Frank came to Jenna’s side and took her hand, and she let him. He didn’t trust himself to look over at Jenna, so he addressed Flork, “Now you’ve met her. What do you say?”

            “I will try it…for strudels. But Frank,” – he waited – “don’t forget to ask about the farm animals in exchange for protection.”

            Jenna looked curiously at Frank, and he explained.

            “I’ll go with you. Maybe we can ask tomorrow. If I leave Sarah in charge of the bakery for a whole day by herself, it’ll be a good test run.”

            Snorg and Flork now stood side-by-side, and Snorg announced, “We will come on Saturday then.”

            They all said their goodbyes, and as Snorg and Flork soared off together, glinting in the sunlight, Frank urged Berg into a gallop without any reminder from Jenna. She held her skirts down and thought of the day by the Sungale Pond when she’d first met Snorg. She’d had no idea that two years could pass by so quickly or that the bumbling knight who became her ticket to Linden would turn out to be such a great friend. Strange that after two years seeing Frank daily, two days without seeing as much of him could open her eyes to what she’d had all along. Well, that and two dragons.

            She wrapped her arms around his waist, and it felt weird but somehow also right. Jenna leaned in and asked, “So, do I get my thank you tonight?”

            Frank turned his head and smiled. “If you’ll come to my cabin at six o’clock, I’ll have it waiting.”

            “Should I have already eaten dinner?”

            “This time, but don’t be too full.”

            Frank had to leave Jenna with a map of how to reach his cabin, as she had actually never been; he had come to her place so often from the start that at some point it hadn’t occurred to her to stop by his.

            She stared in wonder when she arrived. If there had been any other house close enough by to mix up with his, she would have thought it was the wrong one.

            The “cabin” was beautiful, and Frank came to the door dressed in his festival finery. Jenna stepped in and stared at the modern furnishings, enhanced by Frank’s practical innovations. A roaring fire was in the grate, facing a two-seat, upholstered settee. Frank offered his arm, and Jenna smirked as she placed her hand in the crook. As they drew closer to the fire, a pair of steaming mugs came into view, with a tureen and ladle resting between them. There were also two bowls, each with a spoon, and a little wooden cask rested on the floor.

            Jenna sat and picked up a mug. She peered into it and inhaled deeply. “Cocoa?”

            “It is.”

            “And the bowls?”

            “That’s the real surprise.” He pried the lid from the cask and dipped in a hemispherical scoop. Out came a creamy, black-specked globe which he deposited in the bowl, shortly followed by two others. He dished the same serving into his own bowl, placed the spoons each in a bowl, and then served Jenna before taking his own seat.

            The bowl was cold in her hands. “Iced cream?”

            “With vanilla bean.”

            “Mmm.” She ate a spoonful of iced cream and sipped from the mug of chocolate. “You’re a genius.”

            “Thank you. I had another idea recently.”
            “Yeah?”

            “Now that we have two dragons, we probably should take ‘Snorg’ out of the names of our shops.”

            “And call them what instead?”

            “Give me just a minute,” he excused himself, and when he reappeared, there was a long piece of wood in his hands.

            “I was thinking we could combine our shops, with a waiting area and store between the forge and the kitchen. I could display my trinkets and you your fancywork and baked goods.”

            He flipped up the sign, and Jenna read, “Frank and Jenna’s.”

            She smiled at him. “You do have a marvelous lair.”

            He knelt before the settee. “Share it with me?” And there in his hands was a golden ring, with a latticework like that which graced Jenna’s pies holding the diamonds to the band.

            She looked at the ring, at Frank, and at his wonderful home. “I love it!”

            “And me?”

            “And you.”

            “And I love you, Miss Jenna Süsser. Will you be Mrs. von Fahrenpferd?”

            “You know what, I think I’d like that.” She paused a moment before continuing, “You can get up now.”

            And so he did, and side-by-side, they ate their iced vanilla cream. They had a thousand things to discuss, and the tureen and cask were both significantly depleted before Frank saw her home.

            This time Frank kissed her cheek.

            Jenna said, “It’s hard to believe I’m going to marry you.”

            “I know.” They both laughed, and he kissed her again, the other cheek this time. “See you tomorrow.”

            He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him. “Frank?”

            “Yes?”

            “The iced cream was delicious, and I want to know how you make your cocoa.”

            “We have a lifetime to learn things together.”

            “Yeah, I guess we do. Good night.”

            “The best.” And Frank went whistling down the walk.

THE END

Peace within My Soul

          I have found my days of gladness

I had searched for oh, so long,

          But right here when I am with you,

I find the place where I belong

          Suddenly, my burdens

Feel so much lighter than before

          And the pressure to chase greatness

Doesn’t haunt me anymore

          To share this bond of love and friendship

Brings me peace within my soul

          If I could stay with you forever,

I would never wish to go

            A little poem, but it boasteth great things.

            I want to tell you a couple stories connected with this poem and what led into it.

            The first is what I can only imagine to have been staged for another secretly filmed episode of Andrea’s Crazy Life. I’m not sure where that show airs, but it occasionally has some pretty bizarre episodes.

            Would you suspect that a poem entitled “Peace within My Soul” was penned during COVID? Just to clarify, I didn’t have COVID at the time I wrote it, but I did write this poem in the second half of 2020.

            It all began with a Fourth of July visit to my friends in Houghton. That is, I had spent the week leading up to the Fourth on vacation with them. And in the time of COVID, living alone and working remotely, the time with them was an even bigger blessing than usual.

            The Fourth fell on a Saturday that year, and that meant Friday had been a freebie day off for me, so I took Monday off to be the day I drove back downstate. All was well until I made it to Michigamme – only about an hour and a half into my eight hour drive.

            As everyone who lives in Michigan knows, we only have two seasons – winter and construction season. And since it wasn’t winter, you tell me which season it was.

            That’s right. There were lots of orange cone parties going on, and I got to join one of them as I drove down US-41.

            Now at the time, I drove a manual transmission Mini Cooper. And manuals are certainly less fun in stop-and-go conditions.

            I’m not exactly sure when the problem started, but I didn’t notice it until I was leaving the construction area. That’s when I found that my car wouldn’t go above about twenty-five miles per hour. I pulled off onto the shoulder, not exactly sure what I was going to do next.

            As I sat there doing who knows what – I don’t remember at this point – a couple people stopped to see what was going on and if they could help. But of course, there wasn’t anything they could do, and they drove on.

            After some pondering, I decided to try to slowly limp my car into the next town and see if I could find a mechanic. But that plan didn’t last too long before I glanced down at my dash and saw my temperature gauge creeping up dangerously. I’d had radiator issues a couple times before in previous vehicles and had been warned by my dad of the dangers of overheating and warped engine heads, so at that point, I immediately pulled over and shut off my car.

            Amazingly – considering that this was not really in town yet and in the U.P. – I had cell signal. So, I started looking for nearby mechanics. I think I had tried calling one and just got their voicemail. And then, I made my first questionable decision of the day. I noticed I was at the foot of someone’s driveway, so I decided I would go to the door and see if the homeowner could recommend a mechanic.

            I knocked on the screen door, and as I stood there waiting for someone to come to the door, I was second-guessing my decision; I was much relieved when a friendly older lady came to the door. I explained my predicament to B, let’s call her. B then invited me to wait outside on a chair on her patio while she called her son, who she informed me was a fireman and good with cars. I think his being a fireman was meant to reassure me of his being safe. Anyway, she tried calling him but found out from her daughter-in-law that her son wasn’t available. So, next, she called her friend J, also a volunteer fireman, and J came over. He looked at my car and found that the radiator fluid was a little low, so he topped that off for me and suggested I drive down the road to a park-n-ride lot to see if the overheating issue was solved. He would follow to make sure I was okay.

            I made it to the lot, but the engine was already starting to overheat again, and I still couldn’t go over twenty-five miles an hour, so J invited me back to his house, where his wife, L, was.

            I suppose it was risky to hop up in the truck of a man I’d only “known” for about twenty minutes, but he seemed trustworthy, and in I hopped. True to his word, L was at home, and I spent several hours with her. Such kind people!

            I spent my afternoon calling various mechanic shops, trying to find one that both worked on Mini Coopers and could get me in sometime soon. Considering that this was early July, and mechanic shops were considered nonessential businesses in the first few months of the COVID pandemic, many of the shops had just recently reopened and had huge backlogs to get through.

            In the midst of all this, I got a call from Alan’s dad (I’ll stick with the same pseudonyms as I used in the “Lake of the Clouds” episode, number ten). He was a realtor, and I had been looking for a house, so he wanted to tell me about a realtor down in my area who he could recommend. When I told him about my situation, he told Jayne about it, and then she was busy brainstorming ways to help me.

            Meanwhile, I continued calling mechanics, and L was helping me look up shops. And when my cell phone battery was dying, she also loaned me her cordless house phone. And she gave me lunch – a sandwich and potato chips.

            Eventually, I learned that a shop right up in Houghton could get me in within the next couple days, so then I started trying to find a towing company that could get my car there.

            This is where the phone juggling got more intense. Jayne was trying to figure out if she could borrow the church van to get a U-Haul dolly to come pick up my car or borrow her father-in-law’s truck. Alan had the brilliant idea of getting a friend to ship my work laptop up so I could work from their house while my car was in the shop. So, I called my landlady to see if she would let my friend in, and I called my friend to see if she would be able to go get my laptop and ship it FedEx overnight.

            Of course, my friend had a four-month-old baby at the time, so her schedule was somewhat subject to the sleeping and eating habits of her daughter. As it was getting close to the close of office hours at my apartment complex, my landlady called to see if my friend was coming, and I called my friend to check with her and then called my landlady back. All the while, I was getting updates from Jayne and trying to figure out whether I would need to get a tow truck after all.

            Clearly God was looking out for me – as was already quite evident from B’s and J’s and L’s kindness to me – because the FedEx pickup time for overnight varied day-to-day over a pretty wide time window, and my friend dropped off my laptop in the later part of that window, but they hadn’t picked up yet that day, so all was well.

            For various connection/towing reasons, Jayne’s rescue plans fell through, so I ended up getting a tow truck. But as it turned out, this was another part of the adventure.

            J drove me back to the park-n-ride and waited with me until the tow truck arrived. I never learned the name of the young man who was driving the tow truck, but we had quite the interesting conversation on the way to Houghton.

            We had hardly gotten underway when he asked me who that guy had been, referring to J. So, I told him about the adventure of my day, and he told me that he’d learned a long time ago that if you didn’t start talking to a passenger within the first five minutes, the whole ride would be silent. In this case, he had an easy opening and a longer ride than usual.

            I think we talked about dancing at some point – because I love dance and was encouraging him to try it, not because he was a big dancer – but there are other parts of the conversation I remember more. He was telling me about how he’d always thought he’d like to have a job where he got to wear a suit, which struck me as kind of funny considering the line of work he was in. And as he told me about his “Pavement Princess”, a big, black, jacked-up pickup truck that he kept in pristine condition, we then discussed how if he had a fancy suit job in New York City, he might not have room for the Princess. But he also thought it would be cool to be a rancher out in Montana, despite never having been on a horse, and you wouldn’t likely wear a suit for that job either.

            I was tired at that point, but I enjoyed my time with him. The day in general had been the kind that restores some of my faith in humanity. The news tells us all the time about the dreadful things happening in the world, but I wonder how many wonderful things like this happen frequently without the larger population ever being aware.

            We arrived at the mechanic, Jayne picked me up, and I said goodbye to my tow truck-driving friend. Back at Jayne’s house, I ate dinner and was grateful to be back where my day had started.

            My laptop arrived late the next morning, and after getting it all plugged in and hooked up to a second screen and resolving some VPN connection issues, I was back in business.

            At the end of the week, my car was fixed enough to return downstate, and Jayne told me that the week of me staying with them and working remotely had seemed to work out pretty well, so if I wanted and if my boss okayed it, I would be welcome to come work from their house some more.

            So, two weeks later, I was back for another two weeks, and I think in the span of about a year, I spent eight weeks at their house, most of which was working but some of which was on vacation. Even as we returned to the office part-time and then full-time, I was allowed to continue spending some weeks up in the U.P. while working, and it was wonderful. To me, that was far and away the biggest blessing of COVID.

            How then does this connect to “Peace within My Soul”?

          I have found my days of gladness

I had searched for oh, so long,

          But right here when I am with you,

I find the place where I belong

            I was simply happy to be with them, to be a part of a family that I loved. It felt so right, so easy. And those elusive days of gladness you heard me mention in both “Days of Gladness” (episode 20) and “You Carve Beauty” (episode 22) were mine in the time I spent in Houghton apart from my work.

            But I did tell you there were a couple stories connected with this poem. The second ties directly to the second stanza:

          Suddenly, my burdens

Feel so much lighter than before

          And the pressure to chase greatness

Doesn’t haunt me anymore

            I have often felt this pressure to chase greatness. Part of it is just wanting to do things well, but I guess it’s more than that. It’s wanting to leave my mark on the world, to do something extraordinary. It’s not really because I want to make my way into the history books – though that could be cool – but it’s never really felt like enough to me to just do things well. This is part of what I was getting at in episode 12, “The Way of Discipline”, in my discussion of striving. I am continually chasing after the next thing, seeking accomplishment – not for the approval of man but for my own approval. And it’s not the kind of thing that brings peace.

            Discussing this striving after greatness with my mom and a few close friends several years ago, I was surprised to find that none of them shared that craving for greatness, and they didn’t seem to understand what exactly I wanted or why. But the more fruitful discussions that came out of that regarded what true greatness is. The pattern I found talking to each of them was that true greatness consists of humility, integrity, compassion, and sacrifice. In summary, it’s Christlikeness. For many years, I’ve had a sticky note up in my office at work – until my recent job hiatus – that said “Greatness=Christlikeness”, and beneath that was an acrostic of HICS to remind of those character traits: humility, integrity, compassion, and sacrifice. I also had the reminder from my mom, as I wished for a life of meaning, making a positive impact on the world, that you never know what kind of influence you’re having on the people around you.

            When I wrote “Peace within My Soul”, I wasn’t giving up the pressure to chase this HICS greatness. That’s never felt much like pressure – a calling I take seriously but not pressure. And anyway, it’s easier to chase that kind of greatness when you’re surrounded by people following Christ who love you. But the pressure to chase an arbitrary standard of worldly greatness fell away. I was satisfied in the love of those I loved.

            It makes me think of the movie, The Adjustment Bureau. In that movie, the main character is told that the reason he wasn’t supposed to stay with the woman he loved was that she was enough. The internal pressure he felt to chase political success would diminish if he was with the woman who satisfied the longings of his heart. I can relate to that. Being with the people I love satisfies me such that I don’t need to chase newsworthy greatness. Joyful, harmonious relationships are great enough for me.

            And I remember again God’s answer to that long-ago prayer. “What do you have for me?” And his answer was, “Peace.” I had it in Houghton in a year that seemed insane, and I have it this moment as I reflect after a productive and festive day on God’s great and faithful goodness to me. Where do you find your days of gladness?

Peace within My Soul

          I have found my days of gladness

I had searched for oh, so long,

          But right here when I am with you,

I find the place where I belong

          Suddenly, my burdens

Feel so much lighter than before

          And the pressure to chase greatness

Doesn’t haunt me anymore

          To share this bond of love and friendship

Brings me peace within my soul

          If I could stay with you forever,

I would never wish to go

You Carve Beauty

          Father, must grief weigh me down?

Is that what pulls upon my heart?

          What am I to do with this?

Will this be sorrow’s lasting mark?

          I don’t know what to make of this –

The way I’m fine and then I’m not

          It feels like something’s wrong with me

When such a lovely day still makes me sob

          I want to know it will get better

But when I feel so uncontrolled

          I wonder which direction

Time will turn my soul

          But you’re my maker and my father

You will steer my course

          Your knife cuts deep, but you carve beauty

And pour forth joy from heavenly stores

          You will provide; I know you will

My soul shall deepen in your hands

          You will fill me with your nature

As I live out your perfect plans

          Please fill my cup with joy like rivers

Which rumble louder than my grief

          I don’t know what to ask for now

But you know my every need

          So, if I must grieve and weep and mourn

To be healed and whole again

          Then hold me close in all my sorrow

Help me through until the end

          You have made me with this nature

So I will trust your good design

          Your hand will be the power

That in best timing dries my eyes

          Thank you that you understand

And hold me close within your care

          This burden can be borne now

Because with you it’s shared

          I will grieve, and you will hold me

You will speak your truth and grace and love

          You will heal me as you shape me

More in the image of your Son

          Thank you for the freedom

To cry my tears and speak my pain

          Just to rest here in your presence

Is a lessening of grief’s weight

          Days of gladness I still long for

And still I hope in you

          Whatever comes in this life,

One day you will make all things new

          Now I walk within your presence

And joy is mine though sorrow stays

          However this life hurts me,

You are the gladness in my days

            There’s a lot I want to dig into in this episode. I’m going to share the story behind this poem, the email exchange that inspired the title and the line “Your knife cuts deep, but you carve beauty”, and the experience that first made me think about how we don’t just grieve for people we lose to death but to other causes as well. And then I want to close with hope and healing, since that’s the end God writes to each of our stories if we trust in him.

            So, first, the story behind this poem. In brief, it was a wonderful day that brought me to tears. I was out hiking and exploring with three friends – a mom and her two daughters. This was about two months after the loss of my own mother, and the thing that pushed me over the edge was something seemingly totally ridiculous. As we sat on an outcropping of rocks at the base of a waterfall, one of the girls was building a supposed “Zen garden” of little rocks on her mom’s leg. And it got me thinking about the intimacy of that moment. It sounds ridiculous, but consider how many people in your life you would feel comfortable sitting next to and building a rock garden on their bare leg. I think I could count on one hand the number of people in my life who could potentially fall into that category. My heart ached at that moment of shared mother-daughter closeness that I would never again have with my own mother.

          Father, must grief weigh me down?

Is that what pulls upon my heart?

          What am I to do with this?

Will this be sorrow’s lasting mark?

          I don’t know what to make of this –

The way I’m fine and then I’m not

          It feels like something’s wrong with me

When such a lovely day still makes me sob

          I want to know it will get better

But when I feel so uncontrolled

          I wonder which direction

Time will turn my soul

            And that’s kind of how life was this last summer. I would be fine, happy even, and then all of a sudden, I would be decidedly not fine. Tears were just a breath away. And I don’t like that feeling of being out of control of my emotions, and I don’t know that we as Americans are as a whole very good at relating to people in those moments. Who knows – maybe it’s just a human thing. Either way, I was scared the day I wrote this that maybe grief had hurt me too deeply to recover. Then I remembered a recent email exchange with one of the girls in the family.

            In her questions closing her email, she had asked, “Does love heal a soul, or does it only patch it?” and I had responded, “This isn't a very straightforward question. Souls are too complex for that. The sorrow that hurts us is forming us. God takes the heartbreak and suffering and molds us more into the image of Christ through them, gives us a clearer understanding of his immense faithfulness, deepens our trust, and helps us to truly understand what joy is – a deep satisfaction in who he is. The love of God does not merely patch souls but carves them into beautiful masterpieces, intricate, strong, and deep. And one day, the sorrow and loss and regret that can haunt us in this life will be overwhelmed in glorious delight where all has been made right and there is no longer need of sun or moon or stars, for the glory of God will illuminate our world. The darkness will be dispelled, and at long last, we will shine forth clearly the image of our Maker.” So, I wrote next:

          But you’re my maker and my father

You will steer my course

          Your knife cuts deep, but you carve beauty

And pour forth joy from heavenly stores

          You will provide; I know you will

My soul shall deepen in your hands

          You will fill me with your nature

As I live out your perfect plans

            What I was picturing as I typed that email and then penned this poem was one of those wooden candle holders that have been carved so that when the light within them shines, it casts beautiful shadows on the walls around it. I thought of a soul – which I happened to be imagining to look something like a heart – being carved skillfully so that when the light of Christ shines through it, those around see something lovely.

            This is another piece of God’s grace to me that he would step in to show me how faithfully he will care for me, that he will continue to give me joy, that he will guide me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake (Psalm 23:3), that he will complete the good work which he has begun in me (Philippians 1:6).

          Please fill my cup with joy like rivers

Which rumble louder than my grief

          I don’t know what to ask for now

But you know my every need

          So, if I must grieve and weep and mourn

To be healed and whole again

          Then hold me close in all my sorrow

Help me through until the end

          You have made me with this nature

So I will trust your good design

          Your hand will be the power

That in best timing dries my eyes

            The request to fill my cup was another reference to Psalm 23 (verse 5). Isn’t it crazy how often that psalm is quoted, how it has comforted generations with its sweet, short, sure, simplicity? Joy like rivers was a reference to another poem:

Joy Like Rivers

          Joy like rivers flowing over

Running through my heart and soul

          This is life and life abundant

As peace in God has made me whole

          He is all I’m really wanting

He is all I’ll ever need

          In the love of Christ, triumphant

I stand confident and free

          I rejoice in Christ my savior

He has made me now his own

          And I fix my eyes on heaven

Which will someday be my home

            I didn’t know if I should ask for the sorrow to cease. I wanted God to help me, but I was also struggling to know what that should even look like in that moment. I asked for joy but realized there might yet be a lot of grieving before the healing came. As I asked God to be my comfort, I also chose to trust that since he is the one who made me in such a way that I grieve and weep at the loss of those I love, it’s okay and he has a plan in it.

          Thank you that you understand

And hold me close within your care

          This burden can be borne now

Because with you it’s shared

          I will grieve, and you will hold me

You will speak your truth and grace and love

          You will heal me as you shape me

More in the image of your Son

          Thank you for the freedom

To cry my tears and speak my pain

          Just to rest here in your presence

Is a lessening of grief’s weight

            The humanity of Christ between birth and the cross brings me comfort. That’s part of what makes him such an excellent high priest. He understands what it is to lose those we love and mourn. And to know that I shared my burden with him truly made it lighter. It felt less like weakness and more like an acceptable sorrow.

            As I chose to rest in God’s comfort and love, I recognized too that he would be using the heartache to keep shaping me, to keep carving my soul to beautifully display his character as his light shines through me.

            And I was thankful that I could just be with him, that I could tell him how my heart hurt and I could cry, and he listened. People aren’t always good at silence. They want to try to make things better, and sometimes there isn’t anything to say that can make it better. They want to talk away the hurt when sometimes just sharing the burden is the best thing they can do. God’s really good at that. He knows how to wait until our souls are ready to hear his words. And when he speaks, he speaks the language of souls with just the words we need to strengthen and comfort.

            But the mom whose leg had been transformed into a rock garden earlier in the day also has a bit of that gift. I saw God’s goodness again over dinner, mere minutes after I concluded my poem. I sat there with my friend, again trying not to cry. But she saw my hurting and asked just the question that opened the door to my heart, and I started crying, and she let me. And she didn’t try to fix it. She didn’t try to talk it away. She listened to what was hurting me and told me that it was okay for me to be hurting. And I was amazed again by God and his goodness and the way that his people truly are his hands and feet.

          Days of gladness I still long for

And still I hope in you

          Whatever comes in this life,

One day you will make all things new

          Now I walk within your presence

And joy is mine though sorrow stays

          However this life hurts me,

You are the gladness in my days

            You know it was just a couple episodes ago that I was looking at “Days of Gladness” in-depth. Whatever happens here on earth, we have hope for a day of re-creation. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 6:10, we are “sorrowful yet always rejoicing”. Because there is a day when sorrow will cease and the joy alone will remain.

            In college, I shared with a friend the poem “Melancholy Healing”, which says:

          I hear the thousand sounds of fall

And there are teardrops in my heart

          With thoughts of all the ways

That in my memories you took part

          I hear the whisper of the wind

And watch the dead leaves race

          They are stealthily trodden under

And I see your well-loved face

          This is a melancholy sort of healing

That both helps and hurts my soul

          As sweet fall lingers on

My heart is bursting full

And I was surprised to learn that for her this poem made her think of her long-term boyfriend who had broken up with her. I had written this poem of my grandma the fall of the year she died. We had always shared the fall season in a special way, as we harvested pumpkins and gourds together, cut and arranged a corn shock, and shared an appreciation for the beautiful autumn leaves. And even just the tang in the air brought her memory to mind. The whispering and gusting of the leaves was playing upon my heart. I was glad to still think of her and have her face linger in my mind’s eye, yet I was sad at the heartache.

            My friend also had experienced the poignancy of formerly shared experiences to remind her of a person she had loved who then slipped out of her life. And in some ways, I think that type of loss is the more painful. When someone dies from sickness or accident, at least you know he or she didn’t choose to leave. But when someone you love chooses to leave your life, it’s another kind of pain with less comfort in it. How much room we have to grow in compassion for those around us!

            So, what’s my point? Grief is hard. It works in ways we don’t fully understand. We don’t always know – perhaps often don’t know – what the people around us are going through or even if we do, how much they may be hurting. So, we ought to lead with compassion. We should learn to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), to weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). Often, we may not even need words for this. We just need to learn to see and listen and be still. Sometimes hugs help too.

            I’ve been struck in my most recent reading of the Old Testament by how all Egypt mourned the loss of Jacob for seventy days (Genesis 50:3). And the people of Israel mourned Moses’ death for thirty days (Deuteronomy 34:8). How many Americans are back at work the next week? And that’s often for a spouse, child, or parent. Anything more distant, and most people are probably back in a day or two.

            Grieving takes time. Neurologists and psychologists agree that grief impacts brain function – focus, organization, speech, and emotional processing, amongst other things. And there’s not a shortcut out of it.

            I don’t see companies changing their bereavement policy anytime soon – or ever – to allow for a month off, but depending on how close you were to a loved one you lost, it might be worth considering using personal or vacation time to extend your absence for a longer-than-standard period. Regardless of that choice, cut yourself some slack. People aren’t robots, and sometimes healthy, normal, expected and acceptable emotions will negatively impact our normal abilities.

            I knew a gal several years ago who expanded the phrase “time heals all wounds” to “time and God heal all wounds”. And I think with loss on this earth, that healing often isn’t complete. There’s an ache that remains. But a couple cool things to remember: 1) “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). 2) “and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

            The chief hope we have as believers when we lose someone we loved who was also a believer is that our loved one has not gone to death but to a better life with God. We will see again those who have died in Christ. And then we have the promise that in the new Jerusalem, there will be no mourning or crying or pain. Whether we lose loved ones who weren’t believers or if we mourn broken or severed relationships which will not be mended in this life, there is a day when such pain will cease.

            But for now, in a world where pain still touches us, we have the freedom to weep. And we have the promise that “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted / And saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Healing takes time, but God is near us every step of the way.

            And I hope it doesn’t come across a non sequitur, but I’m actually going to close with “Joy Like Rivers” rather than the title poem. I think it’s fitting. Because as Psalm 30:5 says, “Weeping may last for the night, / But a shout of joy comes in the morning.” There will be days that grief feels overwhelming or inconvenient or confusing. It can be frustrating and sneak up on us. But if we keep turning back to God, seeking our answer in him, he will bring healing and comfort in a way that only he can. The direction he will turn our souls is towards “joy like rivers / Which rumble louder than [our] grief”. Hear the sound.

Joy Like Rivers

          Joy like rivers flowing over

Running through my heart and soul

          This is life and life abundant

As peace in God has made me whole

          He is all I’m really wanting

He is all I’ll ever need

          In the love of Christ, triumphant

I stand confident and free

          I rejoice in Christ my savior

He has made me now his own

          And I fix my eyes on heaven

Which will someday be my home

Beneath the Leaves

          Spring comes, and the snow has all melted

But the leaves of last fall still remain

          And I long all the more for new life

As I breathe the damp scent of decay

          So, I go to my shed for a rake

And pull back the leaves from the soil

          With each stroke, I clear more of the path

The result is reward for my toil

          I see now the shoots of fresh growth

That poke green through the moist brown-black earth

          Evergreen needles and acorns

Decorate ground where the leaves are in dearth

          When the sun rises high and shines brightly,

My path is dried by the warmth of its glow

          Then barefoot, I head down the trail

With joy in my heart as I go

          The dirt is so soft, almost springy

Black dust finely powders my feet

          I smile from my soul for this treasure

And thank God for the wonderful treat

            In some respects, this poem is a love letter and probably not in the way you might think. I’m not actually talking about my confession of love for the springtime or the new life that it brings. In fact, though I suppose I do actually agree with most of the sentiments in this poem, I was striving to capture the feelings of a friend rather than my own. And that is how this poem is a bit of a love letter.

            Brief tangent here, but if you’re familiar with the five love languages – quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch, and gifts, I would generally put gifts at the bottom in terms of importance. In fact, I just listed the languages in the order of their importance to me. But the big exceptions for me in terms of gifts are homemade gifts or those which otherwise indicate that the giver has taken the time to truly understand me and what brings me delight.

            I wrote this poem for a friend (who actually happens to not be the biggest fan of The Five Love Languages, as the zillionth edition – give or take a gajillion – is released). As we were walking one day, she was expressing to me how much she loves the forest floor and told me I should write a poem about it. So, I asked her to tell me what she loves about the forest floor and its covering, and she told me about the scent of the damp leaves when the snow has melted and the satisfaction of raking away the ground’s blanket to see the fresh green of spring growth. She described the pleasure of going barefoot in the warmer days and how soft and fine the black earth was underfoot. She mentioned the springiness of the soil, and I don’t remember for sure now if she said it at the time, but it would be a very her thing to say to conclude with something like, “Isn’t God good?!”

            It would be difficult for me to explain how much I delighted in this conversation. I thought then as I’m reminded now that I should ask people more often to tell me why they love the things they love. I think maybe in the same way that we’re often scared to let people love us in the entirety of who we are or love them or let them see that we love them as much as we know how, that we’re often also weirdly scared to let people see how or why or how much we love other things in life as well. Love’s very vulnerable. (Have a listen of episode 6, “Safe to Confide”, for additional thoughts on this.) But love is so beautiful. I should write a poem about it sometime. Somehow poetry, when well-done, is always more than the sum of its parts; it has the power to convey more meaning than the mere words which compose it.

            Anyway, when someone shares about what she loves and why, all the walls are down, and there is room to share a moment of sweet wholeness.

            So, I took that conversation and its memories home with me, and I laid out my friend’s words in the workspace of my mind. I pulled up my own cache of mental images, delved into memories of feelings and scents. I closed my eyes and traveled back in time.

            Leaves are a miracle – in many ways, I think – and just to focus on one bit of the marvel of their uniqueness, their decay produces a pleasant smell. We smell it in autumn. In fact, one of my friends likes to think of autumn as the scent of the season we call fall. And we smell it in spring as well. It’s an earthy smell. It’s the scent of what has been and what will be. What will be is especially its promise in spring.

            If ever you’ve raked back leaves or pine needles to reveal the damp soil beneath and create more space for new things to grow, perhaps you’ve felt that satisfaction of working alongside our Maker to cultivate the garden he created. I picture myself in jeans, a T-shirt, and a flannel, old tennis shoes on and baseball hat over my ponytail, and Plainsman leather gloves protecting my hands from blisters, the sharpness of the equinox seasons in my nostrils.

            And now as I walk through the woods, I love the forest floor in a new way. I pay more attention to the leaves and pine needles with acorns strewn between.

            Have you ever wiggled your toes in warm, rich, dusty-dry soil? It’s better than a spa treatment. I mean, you’re not getting runway-ready glamor out of the deal, but it’s the feeling of toes doing what they were meant to do.

            While we’re on the topic of what things were meant to do and getting back to the miracle of leaves, I’d like to share with you some more of the wonder of what’s going on down on the forest floor. We’ll start with the things I already knew or suspected and then dig deeper, both literally and figuratively.

            As I started doing some reading, I was amazed – though not surprised – to learn that the deeper you dig into this seemingly simple topic, the more you see the amazing handiwork of God.

            The basics then. If you’re like me, maybe you already suspected that the leaf layer breaks down to provide mulch for the forest floor and provides insulation to help keep the ground warm. But that’s pretty cursory. What else do we know?

            I started with Coggin Heeringa’s article, “Crossroads: Dead leaves may seem worthless, but they protect and feed the forest” in the Green Bay Press Gazette. As a nature preserve naturalist of over twenty years, she knows her stuff.

            The first new thing I learned? Leaf litter helps with water control. When rains come pelting down, it slows the absorption of water into the soil and shields against ground erosion. And as with any good insulator, it doesn’t just provide warming benefits but cooling ones as well. In the winter, it’s protecting tender tree root tips from harsh cold, but in the summer, that blanket also minimizes soil heat.

            Nestled in that blanket are new seeds which will absorb nutrients from the decomposing leaves as they sprout in the spring. There are also bugs and worms and toads taking refuge in the cozy layers of leaves. Squirrels and other small forest mammals collect leaves for their nests and dens as they snuggle down for the winter.

            Thanks to Emily Bzdyk, an entomologist who writes for Loudon Wildlife Conservancy, and her article “Life in the Fallen Leaves”, we can zoom in a little further.

            In those levels of leaves are three layers: litter, fermenting, and humus. The humus has been down the longest and is a rich topsoil built of decomposed plant and animal matter. The litter layer is the fresh, crunchy stuff that just begs to be shuffled through. The fermenting layer is where the entomological action happens. Bugs, mites, larva, and worms go to town on the packed, moist leaves of yesteryear. Bacteria and fungi feast on their leftovers. Spiders, small rodents, and amphibians enjoy snacking on the various invertebrates, and come spring, the birds find lots of tasty munchies down in the leaves as well.

            If there happens to be water running through the woods, even more critters get to feed from the leaves. In Laura Poppick’s article, “The life that springs from dead leaves in streams”, in Knowable Magazine, she shares her findings chatting with biologists who explain a similar process of leaves breaking down to feed microbes that feed bugs, which are in turn eaten by fish and birds.

            Fun fact (or at least, so Jan Axtell would have us believe): the tannin-rich water produced by oak and tamarack leaves was also used by Native Americans as part of their hide-tanning process. I’ll restrain myself from going too far off on this rabbit trail, but if you’ve ever wondered about why leather lasts so long even in heat and wet, the secret is in the tanning process. Plant tannins bind to proteins in leather and stabilize them. When the process is complete, the end product is resistant to bacterial growth and mitigates the generation of unpleasant odors. If you’re fascinated and want to learn more, tannins.org is a good place to start.

            But back to Jan Axtell and his article, “Fallen leaves help shape forest life”, published by Vermont Community Newspaper Group. There’s one last thing I want to look at before we zoom out again, or perhaps I should say, look up.

            Besides providing a natural tanning solution for making stylish leather jackets, the trees are also using tannins to promote their own growth. As trees like the oak and tamarack drop their leaves, the tannins in them break down into the soil to produce an acidic pH level. This helps the trees thrive. Similarly, the needles of conifer trees release turpines into the ground, which adjusts their environment to suit the trees – and results in that lovely, piney smell.

            Not every leaf type creates acidic soil. Maples, for instance, like more neutral ground, and the composition of their leaves is suited to result in that sort of chemistry.

            Hopefully you’ve enjoyed learning more about the wonders of the leaves and other tree litter. I know I have. And it’s also got me thinking again of Romans 1:20a: “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made”.

            In everything I’ve shared in this podcast, I see the goodness and generosity of God. He gives us friendships, the ability to communicate with other people, the emotional capacity to feel and express love. He made us with five senses to richly experience and enjoy the world around us. And he has such incredible attention to detail. He is a provider who uses each piece of his creation to feed life and work beauty. Even to think of the way he’s designed animal hides and provided tannins in our natural world points to his thoughtful care.

            I was saying to a friend the other day that this is part of what I love about looking at science and praising God. At the time, I was actually talking about trees again and how you could just look at a tree and say, “Wow, that’s beautiful,” and praise God. Or, you could study more closely to see something like how they take CO₂ from the exhalation of mammals and H₂O from the ground to make hydrocarbons to build their own walls and then expel oxygen for mammals to breathe in again, and you still have the chance to praise God for the outward beauty of the tree, but now you can also praise him for his balanced, beautiful, miraculous design in the inner workings of the tree.

            I firmly believe that God creates out of love. Love desires to be shared, to have an outlet of expression that allows others to experience its beauty as well.

            God made a whole world to let us know him, and through it all, he has indelibly marked his extraordinary love for us. As a little girl trying to imitate her father, I’m also often creating as an expression of love. And as the friend I wrote this poem for hears it again, I hope she is reminded how much I love her and how grateful I am that God placed her in my life.

Beneath the Leaves

          Spring comes, and the snow has all melted

But the leaves of last fall still remain

          And I long all the more for new life

As I breathe the damp scent of decay

          So, I go to my shed for a rake

And pull back the leaves from the soil

          With each stroke, I clear more of the path

The result is reward for my toil

          I see now the shoots of fresh growth

That poke green through the moist brown-black earth

          Evergreen needles and acorns

Decorate ground where the leaves are in dearth

          When the sun rises high and shines brightly,

My path is dried by the warmth of its glow

          Then barefoot, I head down the trail

With joy in my heart as I go

          The dirt is so soft, almost springy

Black dust finely powders my feet

          I smile from my soul for this treasure

And thank God for the wonderful treat

Days of Gladness

          Father, why this aching?

Why this pain?

          Oh, Lord, you feel so far away

I am hurting and mistrusting

          I’m discouraged and afraid

          I want to trust that you will help me,

That you will care for those I love

          But when I look back at my history,

My faith is not enough

          Do you care if I am happy?

Because I do not feel convinced

          God, I know your ways are justice

But do you delight to give sweet gifts?

          Please cover my soul in deepest peace

And sustain me with your joy

          Help me hold to hope when I am weak

Give contentment confusion can’t destroy

          Teach me truth of your intentions

That I may live in light of grace

          Align my heart with yours

So I find my lot a pleasant place

          God, I want to trust that you will grant me

Days of gladness on this earth

          Help me learn to find contentment

In the inheritance of rebirth

          You, Lord, are my treasure

This is the happiness you give

          That I may delight in your great glory

So that while dying, I can live

          Increase my love for you, my God

Cause me to know your care for me

          Rest my confidence unshakably

In knowing you will meet my every need

          I choose to trust, and I will follow

As you lead me every day

          This world cannot satisfy

But I’m satiated in your way

            When I wrote “Days of Gladness” on my list of upcoming podcast episodes, I’m not sure if this was the poem I meant to cover. That phrase shows up in a few of my poems, and it’s possible that I actually meant to take a look at “Peace within My Soul”, but perhaps I’ll get to that within the next few weeks. Because as I reread “Days of Gladness” tonight, I decided it introduces some topics very worth covering. Plus, we just looked at “Schmeffle the Ratter” last week, so maybe you want something more thought-provoking than the tale of a parking meter kitty turned fearsome ratter.

            In the few years I’ve attended my current church, I have multiple times heard my pastor comment on how Moses never got in trouble with God for bringing his complaints to God. He only got in trouble when he did not honor God in front of the Israelites.

            A couple examples of Moses complaints to God and God’s response:

_{Then Moses returned to the Lord and said, “O Lord, why have You brought harm to this people? Why did You ever send me? Ever since I came to Pharaoh to speak in Your name, he has done harm to this people, and You have not delivered Your people at all.”}

_{Then the Lord said to Moses, “Now you shall see what I will do to Pharaoh; for under compulsion he will let them go, and under compulsion he will drive them out of his land.”}

Exodus 5:22-6:1

_{So Moses said to the Lord, “Why have You been so hard on Your servant? And why have I not found favor in Your sight, that You have laid the burden of all this people on me? Was it I who conceived all this people? Was it I who brought them forth, that You should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries a nursing infant, to the land which You swore to their fathers’? Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? For they weep before me, saying, ‘Give us meat that we may eat!’ I alone am not able to carry all this people, because it is too burdensome for me. So if You are going to deal thus with me, please kill me at once, if I have found favor in Your sight, and do not let me see my wretchedness.”}

_{The Lord therefore said to Moses, “Gather for Me seventy men from the elders of Israel, whom you know to be the elders of the people and their officers and bring them to the tent of meeting, and let them take their stand there with you. Then I will come down and speak with you there, and I will take of the Spirit who is upon you, and will put Him upon them; and they shall bear the burden of the people with you, so that you will not bear it all alone.}

Numbers 11:11-17

            In both these instances, Moses is both very honestly complaining about the circumstances he finds himself in and blaming God for it. And God’s response is essentially, “Okay, now let me show you what I’m going to do.”

            By contrast, we have Numbers 20:9-12:

_{So Moses took the rod from before the Lord, just as He had commanded him; and Moses and Aaron gathered the assembly before the rock. And he said to them, “Listen now, you rebels; shall we bring forth water for you out of this rock?” Then Moses lifted up his hand and struck the rock twice with his rod; and water came forth abundantly, and the congregation and their beasts drank. But the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, “Because you have not believed Me, to treat Me as holy in the sight of the sons of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land which I have given them.”}

            Here, Moses is giving himself the glory: “shall we bring forth water”. He’s not putting the focus on God’s power and provision. He’s displaying his negative attitude before others instead.

            I can say to God,

          Do you care if I am happy?

Because I do not feel convinced

          God, I know your ways are justice

But do you delight to give sweet gifts?

            I’m bringing him my lament and my questions, but I’m also looking to him and trusting in him to be my provider and my solution.

            I have a hard time being completely forthright with God sometimes. It’s a little ridiculous considering that he knows all my thoughts anyway, but it’s not always easy for me to bring him my gripe. He is, after all, the great God of highest heavens. Who am I to question him? But recently, as I was out praying on a day that I was struggling to bring thankfulness and praise because I had actually gone on a walk to pray about some areas where I was struggling to see God’s character, as described in the Bible, reflected in my life. And then the obvious struck: God is big enough that he can take it.

            In human relationships, I tend to think that I should always bring something to the table, so as to be a blessing and not merely a burden. But I can’t burden God. That’s to imply that he could be weighed down. Of course I should never come to him with disrespect, but I can honestly share my heart and expect that he will be the solution to my struggles.

            In some ways, this poem was a result of a particular friend repeatedly telling me that God had good things in store for me, meaning even here on this earth, and me not really believing her. But it was also just a very real manifestation of what I was struggling with at the time.

          Father, why this aching?

Why this pain?

          Oh, Lord, you feel so far away

I am hurting and mistrusting

          I’m discouraged and afraid

          I want to trust that you will help me,

That you will care for those I love

          But when I look back at my history,

My faith is not enough

            If you’ve listened to or read episode 2, “My Faithful Father”, these couple stanzas might have a familiar ring to them. I was in a job that was wearing me down, and I was watching my mother fade away. There was aching and pain that I knew God could have put a stop to. But he didn’t. Why not?

            Some days, his comfort was not something I felt. And I hurt. We’re so fragile as human beings. We don’t just hurt physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. I wasn’t trusting that God’s plans were good or that he would bear me up in joy. Is it any wonder then that I was discouraged, that I was afraid?

            I wanted to trust in God, to believe that he would take care of my mom. But I had watched my favorite grandma die of cancer and suffered the loss of my brother to suicide. And I had prayed for both of them to no avail. How could my faith be enough to pray in faith in this latest trial? Yet, pray I did.

            I’m a little farther along this journey now than I was when I wrote this poem. And my aim as I share it with you is both to be transparent with a poem that is wrestling with God and bringing questions and doubts and also to glorify God with truths I can see more clearly in these moment than I could in those moments.

            Most people who die from the form of dementia my mom had turn pretty nasty towards the end. My mom never did. I firmly believe that’s because the Spirit of God dwelt within her as she is his child, and the beautiful light he had set to shine so brightly within her could not be doused by such an ineffectual extinguisher as dementia.

            A week after Mom’s passing, God brought along an acquaintance who I hadn’t seen for months and didn’t have contact info for, and she encouraged me with the truth that I had no idea what God had done for my mom while she was still outwardly suffering on this earth. And even now, as I consider that, I remember how often I prayed that God would fill her with joy, that he would bring his truths to her mind, that she would be able to commune with him on the inside even if she could no longer communicate on the outside. I have no way of knowing what God was doing for her, but I can tell you that when I read her scripture, even very close to the end, she would want me to keep going. When she rarely spoke anymore, after I had been reading beautiful passages from Isaiah, she said emphatically, “That’s good!” No, God didn’t respond the way I’d hoped, but I think he did take the faith I brought to him and cause that little mustard seed to sprout into a great big tree I just didn’t have eyes to see.

            Honestly, even now writing this, I am blown away to be connecting dots that I couldn’t see the line between before. Life is the challenge addition of connect the dots, so the dots aren’t usually numbered.

            I still don’t know how to connect the dots with grandma and my brother. But when I glimpse the connections at least in part elsewhere in life, I’m encouraged to believe that God was still in control and working out good purposes in the most wretched of circumstances. He just has a bigger view of good than we do. He’s looking at eternal good. And overall, that’s really what this poem is about. Is God’s goodness for us just for eternity, or does he have goodness for us here on this earth as well?

          Do you care if I am happy?

Because I do not feel convinced

          God, I know your ways are justice

But do you delight to give sweet gifts?

            And I don’t believe that God’s primary goal for us is our happiness. He has bigger plans than that. But in this moment of clearer thought, it seems like a stupid question to ask God if he delights to give sweet gifts. Because I see all the time that he does. There are so many friendships he has blessed me through. There are so many sunrises and sunsets and soft breezes and tantalizing smells. There are those wonderful coincidences which we should probably instead call God incidents.

            But just like little children are irrational and their parents love them anyway, even when they make absurd assertions, God loves his children even when we ask stupid questions.

          Please cover my soul in deepest peace

And sustain me with your joy

          Help me hold to hope when I am weak

Give contentment confusion can’t destroy

          Teach me truth of your intentions

That I may live in light of grace

          Align my heart with yours

So I find my lot a pleasant place

          God, I want to trust that you will grant me

Days of gladness on this earth

          Help me learn to find contentment

In the inheritance of rebirth

            I brought this prayer of a poem when I knew there were lots of things I needed from God. My attitude was not one of peace or joy, contentment or trust. So, I asked for those things.

            And it wasn’t intentional that the second stanza there came in the center of the poem, four stanzas preceding and four stanzas following, but it’s fitting. Because “Teach me truth of your intentions / That I may live in light of grace / Align my heart with yours / So I find my lot a pleasant place” is the heart, the center of this poem. I wanted to know what truth I should be holding on to. And as I write this today, I think the answer is found in six verses: John 16:33, 1 Peter 1:13, 1 Thessalonians 4:3a, Romans 8:28-29a, and 1 Corinthians 2:9b. And I’m not saying that this is an exhaustive list of all the verses wherein the Bible discusses God’s intentions for us. The entirety of scripture is true and valuable, and a sizeable chunk of it addresses God’s will for us. This is just a sampling that I think is very relevant to this discussion.

John 16:33: “These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”

            This verse follows Jesus’ final message to his disciples at the Last Supper. He has been teaching them about his future plans for them, his unity with the Father, the work of the Spirit, abiding in him. He warns them that the world will hate them and that they will be outcasts, that he will suffer and die on the cross before his resurrection in glory. And he promises that he will respond to their prayers.

            The happiness here on this earth is that the Spirit of God will indwell us who trust in Christ, and we will find our life in Christ, and he will hear our prayers and answer. If we’re looking for happiness in acceptance and ease, we may well be disappointed, but if we’re seeking satisfaction in God, we will find peace.

1 Peter 1:13: “Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

            Who gets excited when they’re told to be sober? This verse is clearly not an encouragement to party hardy here on earth but is instead a call to be alert, clear-headed, and ready for action. Our hope is not set on the good of this life but on the eternal good of salvation in Christ.

1 Thessalonians 4:3a: “For this is the will of God, your sanctification”

            Pretty clear, isn’t it? What is God’s will for me? That I be sanctified, set apart in purity to glorify him.

Romans 8:28-29a: “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose. For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son”

            Here we have that verse that is so often infamously ripped out of context, followed by the verse that makes it all make so much more sense. The good God has for his children on this earth is that we would be like Christ.

1 Corinthians 2:9b: “Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, / And which have not entered the heart of man, / All that God has prepared for those who love Him.”

            When I understand that this is what God has promised me – a life here that is hard but where he is ever with me and a life to come where I am with him forever experiencing splendor and goodness which is beyond my imagination – I am better equipped to face this life. I am then in a position to trust God as being faithful to his word, believing confidently that “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). I can then seek to find my pleasure in this life in walking with God wherever he leads me, trusting that the Christlikeness he is developing in me is my best good and fixing the eyes of my heart on the hope of eternity with my Maker.

          You, Lord, are my treasure

This is the happiness you give

          That I may delight in your great glory

So that while dying, I can live

          Increase my love for you, my God

Cause me to know your care for me

          Rest my confidence unshakably

In knowing you will meet my every need

          I choose to trust, and I will follow

As you lead me every day

          This world cannot satisfy

But I’m satiated in your way

            What more do I say? My flesh is dying every day. I’m still young, and I seem to be healthy, but the trajectory I am on is physical death. But God offers me spiritual life right now that extends into the unfathomable reaches of eternity. I didn’t grow up in a church where a catechism was used, but I’ve learned recently that the first question in the Westminster Shorter Catechism is “What is the chief end of man?” And the answer is “Man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” If I delight in my designed purpose, my life will be satisfying.

_{For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear for clothing?” For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.}

Matthew 6:25-33

            My heavenly Father will provide for me. He does. He loves me intimately, so I will trust in him. This world isn’t meant to satisfy, but God is, and he does. Jesus is the bread of life and living water. The satiation for my soul is found in him.

Days of Gladness

          Father, why this aching?

Why this pain?

          Oh, Lord, you feel so far away

I am hurting and mistrusting

          I’m discouraged and afraid

          I want to trust that you will help me,

That you will care for those I love

          But when I look back at my history,

My faith is not enough

          Do you care if I am happy?

Because I do not feel convinced

          God, I know your ways are justice

But do you delight to give sweet gifts?

          Please cover my soul in deepest peace

And sustain me with your joy

          Help me hold to hope when I am weak

Give contentment confusion can’t destroy

          Teach me truth of your intentions

That I may live in light of grace

          Align my heart with yours

So I find my lot a pleasant place

          God, I want to trust that you will grant me

Days of gladness on this earth

          Help me learn to find contentment

In the inheritance of rebirth

          You, Lord, are my treasure

This is the happiness you give

          That I may delight in your great glory

So that while dying, I can live

          Increase my love for you, my God

Cause me to know your care for me

          Rest my confidence unshakably

In knowing you will meet my every need

          I choose to trust, and I will follow

As you lead me every day

          This world cannot satisfy

But I’m satiated in your way

               Today I’m going to tell you the tale of “Schmeffle the Ratter”. But before I do, I’d like to tell you how this story came to be.

            I graduated college with my good friend Emily, but we were both friends with another gal named Niki who was in the class under ours and therefore had another year yet to go. As September rolled around, Emily – who has a knack for creative, practical encouragement – suggested we could put together a series of “Open When” cards for Niki to brighten up her college days.

            So, that became our project over the next couple months when we got together. One day we might brainstorm ideas for which events were Open When-worthy. Another, we decorated all the envelopes. And of course, we had to come up with the content for the cards.

            Sadly, at this point, I don’t remember what all of the cards were, but my favorites were “Open When You Can’t Sleep” and “Open When You’ve Had a Fabulous Day”. We decided a bedtime story would be appropriate for “Open When You Can’t Sleep”, and it needed an illustration to be a proper bedtime story. A silly picture seemed like it could be a fun thing to put in “Open When You’ve Had a Fabulous Day” – something Niki could smile at that would either take her back to the previous bedtime story or make her wonder what the other cards would reveal of the picture’s mystery.

            Emily and I talked over the story premise and set to work – she on the picture, I on the story. The thumbnail for this episode is the illustration Emily drew. And the tale I’m about to share is the story.

            Now, you may ask yourself what this has to do with life abundant. And my response is that I think friendship and creativity and stories are all very much a part of abundance of this life. So, I hope as you listen – whether you’ve had a fabulous day, you can’t sleep, or you need a laugh – that your day is a little brighter for this having a part in it.

            Here is, “Schmeffle the Ratter”.

            Once upon a time there was a purple cat named Schmeffle who lived in the land of Kerplop. Kerplop had an abundance of public parking, but it was nearly all metered. So that’s where Schmeffle came in. Every day he would prowl the streets of Kerplop, keeping his eyes peeled for blinking meters with cars in front of them. And most days he would write several tickets.

            His life wasn’t very exciting, except when on occasion the owner of the car would come back as he was writing the ticket or sticking it under the windshield wiper. Then he had to be light on his feet, or else he’d lose one of his nine lives, and those only go so far.

            So after his long and rather boring day, he would return to his cozy little house in the suburbs of Kerplop’s chief city, Moylaff. And to most observers, his life there seemed rather dull as well. He would prop his back paws up on his ottoman, snuggle down into his comfy armchair and read dusty old tomes from the worn shelves of Moylaff’s library. Of course, to Schmeffle, this did not seem at all dull, filled as the books were with adventure and mystery, and yes, sometimes even romance—all the things his life was sadly lacking.

            Most days, the discrepancy between his books and his everyday existence did not bother him. He would play classical music on his old Victrola and eat the finest cheeses with only the richest cream from the local dairy. Indeed, these were the only extravagances in the dull life he lived, but they were enough for him.

            However, one evening while he was deeply engrossed in the tale of Latrell the Mouser, in his mind creeping through the old barn haymow right along with the hero, what should occur but “Rowr!”—into his lap fell the most beautiful cat he had ever beheld, much less actually held.

            She had only been there a moment, landing briefly on her careening flight from the back wall of his fireplace. He had not yet had time to register the events occurring before him when he heard an anguished squeal and then smelled the burnt singe of hot fur. Close behind this pungent smell there followed the rest of the nasty sewer rats who had not fallen into the fire.

            Having just been in the midst of a suspenseful scene replete with the dangers of awful little rodents, Schmeffle was having difficulty discriminating between his story and reality when the warmth was gone from his lap, his door was slammed open, and the pitter-patter of rodent feet dissipated into the street beyond. He sat there in a stunned paralysis, not sure what he was thinking, only knowing that suddenly his world was dramatically changed. Yet he moved not an inch until he noticed the whirring of his record on the Victrola in the corner. He calmly, but in an odd distraction, stood up and went to silence its spinning. He gazed about the room, wondering what else needed doing. Ah yes, the door. Of course. He went to shut the door and then sat back heavily into his chair, paws no longer propped on his ottoman, book lying disregarded on the end table. Whatever was the matter with him?

            He could still see in his mind the startled, lovely, innocent face of the dove gray puss who had mere minutes ago been betwixt his paws and feel the silky soft fur of her petite body. In the rush of unfamiliar emotions coursing through his scattered brain, he at first had no idea how to proceed. But then all the spirit of Latrell the Mouser filled his being and he knew at once precisely what he must do.

            He would rescue this distressed damsel and seek her paw in catrimony!

            No sooner was the resolution formed but he was out the door and bounding his way towards the sewers from whence the sewer rats had come. He knew that by his own strength alone he would not be able to lift a manhole cover, but by great good luck, merely the third manhole he came to was removed, with cones strewn about for maintenance.

            Without more than a hare’s breath of hesitation, he plunged into the dark recesses below. His lavender eyes gleamed palely in the blackness, and his pricked ears led him unfailingly towards the gentle scufflings of many little feet. But when he heard the soft whimpering of a forlorn female of his own species, caution was banished, and he fairly flew to her aid. Then there were hundreds of the nasty, smelly creatures, but what was that to Schmeffle the Ratter? With claws extended and sweeping paws, he fought his way to the side of his dear little puss and slashed her ropes with ease.

            Together then they sped back through the carnage of Schmeffle’s duel and climbed up through the manhole cover which had brought them. With the strength of both directed as one, they shoved and shoved and shoved again, and then with a grate and a clank, the cover fell over the hole, and they were safe.

            Schmeffle found his lovely lady was named Yolanda, and she told with great alacrity of how she had fallen quite by accident down the manhole and then been chased all across the town and rooftops by the rats until she had fallen down his chimney. It seemed now that she was safe once more, her timidity had been replaced with a gregarious good humor, and he found it simply delighted him all the more.

            Of course, it raised his hackles to hear of how the rats had caught her on the streets and dragged her bound back to their lair, but the main thing was that she was safe now. And he made sure to himself that she always would be forevermore, so much as the thing lay within his power.

            And when she asked his name. He said boldly, “I am Schmeffle the Ratter.” And indeed he was from that day forward. He resigned from his parking enforcement job in Kerplop and became the chief ratter of Moylaff from that day on. Naturally, he acquired the address of his dear Yolanda, and after a respectable amount of time, he made her an offer of catrimony. She accepted, and they were very shortly thereafter fed. Ahem…er…wed.

            Though Schmeffle never gave up his books or his cream, he now had a lovely, silky little mate to share them with, and they lived all their nine lives together in a harmony marred only in the pleasantest of ways by the padding of tender kitten feet.

The End

               I want to start this podcast a little differently than usual because this poem came about a little differently than usual too.

            Although my poems are frequently influenced by what I have been studying in scripture recently or what’s been being taught at church or just what God has been teaching me recently about himself, I don’t often sit down with my Bible and write a poem straight from scripture. I’ve done it once or twice with the psalms but only once with a passage from the major prophets.

            So, before I go any further, I want you to hear the passage that inspired this poem, Jeremiah 15:15-21:

_{You who know, O Lord,}

_{Remember me, take notice of me,}

_{And take vengeance for me on my persecutors.}

_{Do not, in view of Your patience, take me away;}

_{Know that for Your sake I endure reproach.}

_{Your words were found and I ate them,}

_{And Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart;}

_{For I have been called by Your name,}

_{O Lord God of hosts.}

_{I did not sit in the circle of merrymakers,}

_{Nor did I exult.}

_{Because of Your hand upon me I sat alone,}

_{For You filled me with indignation.}

_{Why has my pain been perpetual}

_{And my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?}

_{Will You indeed be to me like a deceptive stream}

_{With water that is unreliable?}

_{Therefore, thus says the Lord,}

_{“If you return, then I will restore you—}

_{Before Me you will stand;}

_{And if you extract the precious from the worthless,}

_{You will become My spokesman.}

_{They for their part may turn to you,}

_{But as for you, you must not turn to them.}

_{“Then I will make you to this people}

_{A fortified wall of bronze;}

_{And though they fight against you,}

_{They will not prevail over you;}

_{For I am with you to save you}

_{And deliver you,” declares the Lord.}

_{“So I will deliver you from the hand of the wicked,}

_{And I will redeem you from the grasp of the violent.”}

I have an older friend I used to attend church with who was surprised to hear that I had written a poem based on Jeremiah, thinking it must be a gloomy poem, considering what a dreary book Jeremiah is. Isaiah, at least, is full of hope for the redemption God will bring to Israel, but Jeremiah is largely God’s grievances with Israel and the foretelling of punishment to come. And I understand his point. Isaiah has these sweeping passages telling of beauty and glory to come. Jeremiah has been called to bear a hard message.

            Yet, the pages of my Bible are still wrinkled from raindrops where it opens to chapter fifteen.

            I sat outside on one of those days where the sky spits – actual raindrops weren’t falling from the sky, but it was misting and damp. And it was lovely. And I sat there studying and rereading this prayer of Jeremiah’s.

            But let’s back up. What do we know of Jeremiah?

            First of all, he is a priest. Second, he is a prophet. And he prophesies during the reign of King Josiah of Judah as well as that of his son, Jehoiakim, and grandson, Zedekiah, at which time Jerusalem is exiled.

            And for as much as Jeremiah’s prophesy would not have been welcome to the Israelites, the way God relates to Jeremiah is encouraging and inspiring. When we first see the word of the Lord come to Jeremiah in chapter one, their dialogue in verses 5-8, 9b-10 is:

_{“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,}

_{And before you were born I consecrated you;}

_{I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.”}

_{Then I said, “Alas, Lord God!}

_{Behold, I do not know how to speak,}

_{Because I am a youth.”}

_{But the Lord said to me,}

_{“Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’}

_{Because everywhere I send you, you shall go,}

_{And all that I command you, you shall speak.}

_{“Do not be afraid of them,}

_{For I am with you to deliver you,” declares the Lord.}

_…

_{“Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.}

_{“See, I have appointed you this day over the nations and over the kingdoms,}

_{To pluck up and to break down,}

_{To destroy and to overthrow,}

_{To build and to plant.”}

            This is a big calling, and Jeremiah is afraid to live it out. He thinks he is too young to bring the word of the Lord to the nations. But God starts by reminding him that Jeremiah is God’s own creation, planned out even before he was shaped in the womb. Though Jeremiah doesn’t believe he’ll know the words to speak, God assures him that he will give the words Jeremiah is to speak. And he instructs Jeremiah not to be afraid because he, the Lord, will be with him to save him.

            I think Jeremiah must have already understood as a godly and God-fearing man, that if he took a message from God to the nations, it would not be a happy one. The nations around him, including the one in which he lived, were evil and running contrary to God and his ways. So, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to carry the message accurately and that these wicked people he spoke to would kill him. God responds to his unspoken fears with a promise of protection and a reiteration of his purposes. The creator God has given Jeremiah the calling to level and clear the soil of nations so that something better can be put in their place.

            As you read through the first fifteen chapters of Jeremiah, you’ll see that the majority of it is a prophecy of destruction and judgment for the sin and faithlessness of Israel and Judah. But even in the midst of this, there is still hope. In chapter three, verse eleven, through chapter four, verse two, God calls his people to repentance and again offers them the promise of provision to the faithful. A snippet from this passage:

_{‘Return, faithless Israel,’ declares the Lord;}

_{‘I will not look upon you in anger.}

_{For I am gracious,’ declares the Lord;}

_{‘I will not be angry forever.}

_{‘Only acknowledge your iniquity,}

_{That you have transgressed against the Lord your God}

_…

_{Then I said,}

_{‘How I would set you among My sons}

_{And give you a pleasant land,}

_{The most beautiful inheritance of the nations!’}

_{And I said, ‘You shall call Me, My Father,}

_{And not turn away from following Me.’}

(Jeremiah 3:12b-13a, 19)

            In chapter six, God says, “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, / Where the good way is, and walk in it; / And you will find rest for your souls.” (verse 16b), but the response of his people is, “We will not walk in it” (verse 16c). God is inviting them to walk in the path to life abundant, the path of peace and prosperity, and their answer is that they will not.

            In chapter eleven, Jeremiah cries out to the Lord because the people of Judah are plotting against him to kill him. And he prays in chapter twelve:

_{Righteous are You, O Lord, that I would plead my case with You;}

_{Indeed I would discuss matters of justice with You:}

_{Why has the way of the wicked prospered?}

_{Why are all those who deal in treachery at ease?}

His lament goes on from there. It is the age-old cry of the righteous: why do I suffer while serving you as the wicked around me prosper?

            In chapter fifteen, Jeremiah prays again, and again God answers.

            When I read Jeremiah’s prayer, it resonated with my heart and I was encouraged by God’s response. And so I wrote:

The Prayer of Jeremiah

          Lord, you are the one who knows

Forget me not, for I am yours

          In this moment of my trial

Walk with me the weary while

          When I am hurt, please take my part

Come to me and hold my heart

          Your words, your will, are my delight

I’ll praise you through the day and night

          Lord of hosts, you call my name

Your purpose do I claim

          Now in vice I find no pleasure

Rather, it gives me pain unmeasured

          And this hurt has not been healed

God, is not your comfort real?

          Yet once again I make the choice

I will listen for your voice

          Your answer falls upon my ear

These are the words I long to hear

          If I return, you will restore me

And I know I’ll stand before thee

          To lift the beauty from the waste

Is to gain an honored place

          I have the chance to speak your words

This is a blessing you’ve conferred

          To the world I may not turn

But their advances I should not spurn

          You will shelter and protect me

You have saved and set me free

          Now you say you’ll make me strong

And my Lord, you’re never wrong

          By your power, I will not fail

The enemy shall not prevail

            Jeremiah said,

_{You who know, O Lord,}

_{Remember me, take notice of me,}

_{And take vengeance for me on my persecutors.}

_{Do not, in view of Your patience, take me away;}

_{Know that for Your sake I endure reproach.}

_{Your words were found and I ate them,}

_{And Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart;}

            And I wrote:

          Lord, you are the one who knows

Forget me not, for I am yours

          In this moment of my trial

Walk with me the weary while

          When I am hurt, please take my part

Come to me and hold my heart

          Your words, your will, are my delight

I’ll praise you through the day and night

            Our prayers were both similar and different. We both started with the confession that the Lord is the one who knows. He knows the situations and trials that we face. He knows who we are. He knows the past, the present, and the future. And we both asked him to remember us, not because there was danger of him literally forgetting but because we wanted him to care for us, to be our guardian and protector. Jeremiah asked for vengeance, as evil people sought to kill him for obeying God. I asked for God to take my part, to be my sustainer and strength, when I was hurting. Jeremiah’s life was in danger. I simply faced the challenge of living in close community with people, many of whom were not following after God or walking in his ways. In light of his service, Jeremiah asked God to be patient and not take him away. I asked that he would be my companion in my trials. And we both expressed the delight of God’s words.

            Then Jeremiah said,

_{For I have been called by Your name,}

_{O Lord God of hosts.}

_{I did not sit in the circle of merrymakers,}

_{Nor did I exult.}

_{Because of Your hand upon me I sat alone,}

_{For You filled me with indignation.}

_{Why has my pain been perpetual}

_{And my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?}

_{Will You indeed be to me like a deceptive stream}

_{With water that is unreliable?}

            And I wrote:

          Lord of hosts, you call my name

Your purpose do I claim

          Now in vice I find no pleasure

Rather, it gives me pain unmeasured

          And this hurt has not been healed

God, is not your comfort real?

          Yet once again I make the choice

I will listen for your voice

            We both were called by God to walk in his ways. And as Jeremiah refused to party with the wicked, so I too found no pleasure in the vice of the world around me. Delighting in God’s word is delighting in God. And delighting in God doesn’t leave room for delighting in vice. Jeremiah was filled with indignation at the celebration of evil around him. And I too was pained by the sin I saw around me. We both turned to God, lamenting the hurt in our hearts and wondering at why we still waited longer for God to bring comfort or healing. But I had the advantage of God’s answer already being recorded for me to read, so I surrendered to listen.

            God said,

_{If you return, then I will restore you—}

_{Before Me you will stand;}

_{And if you extract the precious from the worthless,}

_{You will become My spokesman.}

            And I paraphrased:

          Your answer falls upon my ear

These are the words I long to hear

          If I return, you will restore me

And I know I’ll stand before thee

          To lift the beauty from the waste

Is to gain an honored place

          I have the chance to speak your words

This is a blessing you’ve conferred

            I hunger to hear God’s voice, and when I open up his word and read, I do. I hear him speaking to me from millennia past, and they are the words of truth I need. If I turn to God, I will be restored by him. I will have the privilege to stand in his presence. My place will be maintained, and I, who ought by rights of my station in life compared to God to fall prostrate in his presence, will instead stand as one who belongs and is welcomed in his presence. God weaves beauty into this broken world, and if I will distill it to be recognized and enjoyed in its purity, my reward will be the gift and calling to speak God’s words. When I seek after the things of God, he will use me as an instrument in accomplishing his purposes. This is my desire in life: to be used by my God and for him to be pleased in me.

            And God went on to say,

_{“They for their part may turn to you,}

_{But as for you, you must not turn to them.}

_{Then I will make you to this people}

_{A fortified wall of bronze;}

_{And though they fight against you,}

_{They will not prevail over you;}

_{For I am with you to save you}

_{And deliver you,” declares the Lord.}

_{“So I will deliver you from the hand of the wicked,}

_{And I will redeem you from the grasp of the violent.”}

            And I heard:

          To the world I may not turn

But their advances I should not spurn

          You will shelter and protect me

You have saved and set me free

          Now you say you’ll make me strong

And my Lord, you’re never wrong

          By your power, I will not fail

The enemy shall not prevail

            As I speak God’s words in this world, the goal is for people to turn to God. So, if they turn to listen to me speak as I share God’s truth, that’s a good thing, pleasing to God. But I am not to turn to them. The word repent refers to a turning away from one thing to walk in the opposite direction. The world is welcome to repent from sin and turn to God, but I am not welcome to repent from godliness and turn to sin. God promises Jeremiah that he will strengthen him so that his opponents will not overcome him. And I believe similarly that he is my protector. I often think of Psalm 127:1b: “Unless the Lord guards the city, / The watchman keeps awake in vain.” I seek to walk in God’s ways, and then I trust my life to him. I stand or fall by his will. He is my shelter and salvation. When I walk in obedience, I will not fail because God is the one who has prepared good works beforehand for me to walk in (Ephesians 2:10). “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under [my] feet” (Romans 16:20). The enemy and his minions will not prevail because God is ultimately the one with whom they contend.

            I often lament that I don’t get to audibly hear God’s voice, and having that desire in my heart to hear God speak, I am so grateful for passages like this where another of God’s children speaks words which are so close to my own and then hears God’s reply, which I now get to read as well. This world will never be one which God’s children feel entirely at ease in. But he promises to be our protector as we walk out his will.

            So, let’s walk in his ways. When he says, “Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, / Where the good way is, and walk in it; / And you will find rest for your souls,” let us reply, “We will walk in it.”

            The ancient paths are the paths of righteousness and salvation. They are the paths of a circumcised heart and a faithful, surrendered life. The good way is the way of worship, of belief in God as Lord and savior and delight in him. And in this way is rest, soul-rest. My God, please make my footsteps sure.

‍

Restlessly Running

          I am restless; I am running

I don’t ever seem quite still

          I am looking; I am searching

I want to find my Father’s will

          And I don’t know for certain

If I’ve found it yet or not

          It seems no matter what I do

I end up in this spot

          God’s love, for sure, has satisfied

My soul has deep and steady peace

          But my heart and mind long for a stimulus

That will give their potential full release

          I want to find a place where I

Can live and laugh and learn

          And all the deepest depths inside me

Are filled with that for which they yearn

          I’d like to do a little math

But often be outside

          And read and write and dance and sing

And have all these things collide

          I just wish that I could find a place

To pursue all my fancies and my dreams

          But this place is hard to find,

Impossible it seems

          But I will take each care to God

And in thanksgiving find his rest

          Then wait and serve until I see

The plan he’s deemed is best

          I will delve into his love letter

And pray each waking hour

          And watch to see his mighty work

Encompassed by his great power

          No matter where he takes me

Regardless of the trials

          My rest shall come from his sweet love
For I am, of course, his child

            This is such an interesting poem to come back to. I wrote it in Organic Chemistry class, which might help to explain why that class didn’t go better for me…although the strong accent of my professor certainly didn’t help either.

            At the time I wrote this, I don’t think I knew that there was such a man as St. Augustine or that in his Confessions he had written, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” But I have many times heard another follower of Christ voice the cry of my heart because the same Spirit indwells each of us who trust in him. This is no different, though Augustine lived nearly sixteen hundred years before I. Today, I read a longer excerpt from his Confessions and got chills as I wondered with him at the grace and glory of in the infinite God who chooses to dwell within us and invites us to dwell within him.

            A couple years after I wrote this poem, a friend introduced me to the song “Restless”, by Audrey Assad, and it was a song I sank into like the embrace of a favorite chair. It’s a musical repetition of St. Augustine’s famous words and a confession of neediness for Christ, a plea for him to hold her close. I need that too. I feel the restlessness within me, and I have prayed the prayer asking God to hold me.

            I reread this now, and I’m skeptical of my former self. Is it possible to be both satisfied and restless? I still relate to so much of what I wrote those eleven years ago, but my perspective has shifted too.

            And to be honest, this is where I temporarily abandoned this episode, wrote the next two, and I’m now coming back to it almost two weeks later.

            When I put this poem on my podcast list, I didn’t remember what all was in it, but I like the concept of finding our rest in God, and as I come back to it now, it brings to mind again the question of: how is it possible to be content in all circumstances without being apathetic? But maybe the answer is found in scripture.

            For me, the first verse that always comes to mind when I think about contentment is Philippians 4:11: “Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.” Here, Paul is talking about both in poverty and in prosperity, finding our sufficiency in Christ. Hebrews 13:5 parallels this passage in Philippians, saying, “Make sure that your character is free from the love of money, being content with what you have; for He Himself has said, ‘I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you’.” And 1 Timothy 6:6-10 explains similarly, “But godliness actually is a means of great gain when accompanied by contentment. For we have brought nothing into the world, so we cannot take anything out of it either. If we have food and covering, with these we shall be content. But those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and harmful desires which plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil, and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”

            So, a baseline understanding of scriptural contentment is to be thankful for God’s provision of our basic needs and to be glad in the constancy of his presence with us. This precludes chasing after riches, which is more likely to draw us away from God than nearer to him.

            But I want to be careful here to say that I don’t believe it’s wrong to be rich. God may choose to bless you in that way. But if he does, I believe his intention is for you to bless others with that wealth. Even though it’s in the context of suggesting a change in behavior to those who have been thieves, I think Ephesians 4:28 lays out a good general principle for work and resources in saying, “rather he must labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need.” We are to provide for ourselves (see also 1 Thessalonians 4:12) and also seek to bless the needy as we have opportunity and resources to do so.

            Okay, so now that we’ve looked at contentment, how do we know that apathy shouldn’t go along with it? Now, the first verse that comes to mind is 1 Corinthians 9:27: “I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.” Here Paul is looking at the disciplined training of an athlete who wants to win the prize in his competition. And this analogy is meant to help us understand the way we should pursue the knowledge of and relationship with Christ. We certainly aren’t to be apathetic in knowing him.

            So, is that it then? As long as we invest time and effort into getting to know God, we can be as apathetic as we like in other areas? I don’t think so. Jesus says in Luke 12:48b, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.” There is an expectation that we will make the most of whatever gifts God gives us.

            But I think the verse that really expresses the tension between contentment and ambition, rather than apathy, is 1 Corinthians 7:20: “Were you called while a slave? Do not worry about it; but if you are able also to become free, rather do that.” Be content in whatever circumstances God is currently calling you to, but if you see a better way, strive after that.

            I started my poem with:

          I am restless; I am running

I don’t ever seem quite still

          I am looking; I am searching

I want to find my Father’s will

          And I don’t know for certain

If I’ve found it yet or not

          It seems no matter what I do

I end up in this spot

          God’s love, for sure, has satisfied

My soul has deep and steady peace

          But my heart and mind long for a stimulus

That will give their potential full release

            And looking back eleven years later, I’m a little critical of my former self, but I also have some interesting reflections on things I’ve learned even in these last few months which tie back to some of the later stanzas of the poem.

            Here’s why I’m critical – or perhaps I should say skeptical, as I did at the outset. I don’t think restlessness is compatible with deep and steady peace. And maybe former me realized that when I wrote stanza seven:

          But I will take each care to God

And in thanksgiving find his rest

          Then wait and serve until I see

The plan he’s deemed is best

            I never mentioned trust in this poem, but somehow, it’s still what comes to mind as I read through this and ask myself what the problem was. I knew a guy in 2015 who said something that really stuck with me. He said that we say we trust God, but then we want him to tell us what he’s going to do. And that’s not actually trusting. And being a dancer, the analogy of a lead and follow comes to mind. There was actually a time I was dancing with this same guy, and he told me I wasn’t trusting him. So, I closed my eyes to demonstrate that I was putting all my trust in his leading. And then the move we were attempting actually worked out much better because now I was only following his lead, not trying to figure out what he was doing; I was going where he directed not where I thought he might want me to be.

            Could there be a better analogy? If we trust God, we’re not expecting him to tell us what comes next or trying to figure out his next move. Just like some moves in swing dancing can be done with eyes closed, there will be times we’re called to walk by faith without any sight. But sometimes I need to be watching for where my lead’s hands are to figure out what the next move is. I need to see what he’s doing. But this is still not me needing to know what he’s going to do next, just needing to respond to his prompting. And similarly, we can watch for God’s leading and respond to his cues, without needing to know what he’ll be doing next.

            And if I can stretch the dance analogy a little further, I’m not restless when I have a good dance lead. I expect that I will enjoy the time with him, that he will keep me safe, and that even if he surprises me, he’ll make sure things work out alright. I’m content. I should be content like that with God’s leading as well. Even great dance leads make mistakes. God doesn’t.

            I looked up the Hebrew word translated as “striving” in Psalm 46:10: “Cease striving and know that I am God”. It turns out that single Hebrew word encompasses “cease” as well. I can’t pronounce the Hebrew for you, but that word that is printed as “cease striving” or “be still” means to relax, sink down, abate, refrain, be quiet. Why? Because “The Lord of hosts is with us” (Psalm 46:11a).

            There is a stillness of heart which is found in God’s presence. And I think it actually allows us to be more effective when we do move. Restlessness is scattered. Purpose has focus.

            Do I believe that God has good things in store for me and that he will provide them in the best timing?

          I want to find a place where I

Can live and laugh and learn

          And all the deepest depths inside me

Are filled with that for which they yearn

          I’d like to do a little math

But often be outside

          And read and write and dance and sing

And have all these things collide

          I just wish that I could find a place

To pursue all my fancies and my dreams

          But this place is hard to find,

Impossible it seems

            I don’t regret the path I took to get to where I am today. There have been a lot of fabulous blessings along the way. But a part of me still asks what would have been different if I’d had the courage and trust to do what I’m doing now a little earlier in my life.

            After eight years in engineering – and that doesn’t even count the time in college or internships – I decided to step away and consider other options. Since at least high school, but I think maybe even since middle school, my real dream has been to be a writer. And I’ve kept writing through the years but haven’t done much to seriously pursue publication. But after giving myself a couple months away from the rat race, where I did get to do a little math – mostly number puzzles, spent a ton of time outside, and indulged my fancy for reading, went dancing regularly, and sang in the house and out of the house and out on my walks, I decided I was going to give writing a serious chance to thrive in my life. And it takes discipline. In some ways, it’s easier to go into an office and do an engineering job where there are specific tasks that need to be accomplished and customers and coworkers providing the motivation to get things done. It certainly pays better. But I have really enjoyed writing up these podcasts. It’s been fun working on my fiction stories again. Building a website for the first time was satisfying too. This does feel like the work I was meant to do.

            I’m glad I serve a God who doesn’t have facepalm moments. He’s not banging his head on his desk, saying, “Rrrgh!” and wondering why I had to go and mess up his plans again. He’s looking down with compassion and steering my life in the way I need to go. He’s crossing my path with that of others at just the right time. As the clay of my life spins on his potter’s wheel, he’s carving and shaping in ways that don’t always make sense to me at the time, but as he gets farther along, I get to see more and more of the vision he’s shaping in me.

            I don’t know exactly what comes next. And I haven’t perfectly mastered the art of not being restless. There are still times I’m not so good at trusting in the process, and I try to run in three different directions at just about the same time and as you would expect, get nowhere in the process. Fortunately, God is gracious towards me and continues to steer me into the right path even after I trip myself up along the way.

            A friend shared with me several years ago a lesson from one of his Sunday school teachers a decade previous. Everywhere God has you, he’s either using you or preparing you to be used. In Stephen’s sermon in Acts 7, we read, “And when he saw one of them being treated unjustly, he defended him and took vengeance for the oppressed by striking down the Egyptian. And he supposed that his brethren understood that God was granting them deliverance through him, but they did not understand” (verses 24-25). Moses was convinced as a young man that his purpose was to free his people from Egypt. But then he spent forty years in the wilderness (see verse 30) before God called him to take action.

            There hasn’t been anything so dramatic as a burning bush in my life, and thankfully, I haven’t had to wait forty years for the calling I thought I knew to seem to be confirmed, but I still find this story reassuring. God doesn’t waste the wilderness time, and it’s not always an indication that we did something wrong. It’s pretty cool to see in the book of Joshua how God provided for Caleb. Caleb had to wander in the wilderness with the rest of the Israelites for a sin he didn’t commit. So, God grants him unnatural strength and vigor as an old man. He declares, “now behold, I am eighty-five years old today. I am still as strong today as I was in the day Moses sent me; as my strength was then, so my strength is now” (Joshua 14:10b-11a).

            Maybe I should have been willing to give up financial security sooner and take the risk of stepping away from engineering. But reality is that those years I worked in engineering have put me in the financial position to more or less safely take the risk I’m taking right now. God is amazingly faithful!

            Looking back now, the last couple stanzas mean more to me as well.

          I will delve into his love letter

And pray each waking hour

          And watch to see his mighty work

Encompassed by his great power

          No matter where he takes me

Regardless of the trials

          My rest shall come from his sweet love
For I am, of course, his child

            I have waited in tears and longing to see what God would bring about. My trust has been imperfect, and I still don’t know the full or final outcome. But I have seen him working! And he has taken me through trials I never anticipated and certainly wouldn’t have chosen, but right now, I know greater rest in him than I did when life held fewer scars.

            So, take heart. If you are a follower of Christ, God has plans for your life that he will faithfully guide you in to at the right time. It’s early days yet for me to know how my own latest adventure will turn out, but risk-adverse as I am, I have found a surprising amount of peace in this season of my life in leaving the beaten path and doing work which seems to fit my soul.

            A dear friend of mine likes to say that she “has a front row seat” in reference to watching the incredible show of God working out his grand plans in our lives. I think sometimes a miming of eating popcorn accompanies this statement. And I think just recently I’ve gotten to the point where I also can be enthusiastic about having a front row seat. I believe the Director is going to amaze me with the magnificent show he is orchestrating.

            Let’s go forward then with contentment but not apathy, trusting in God and following his lead. That will take the restlessness out of our running.

Restlessly Running

          I am restless; I am running

I don’t ever seem quite still

          I am looking; I am searching

I want to find my Father’s will

          And I don’t know for certain

If I’ve found it yet or not

          It seems no matter what I do

I end up in this spot

          God’s love, for sure, has satisfied

My soul has deep and steady peace

          But my heart and mind long for a stimulus

That will give their potential full release

          I want to find a place where I

Can live and laugh and learn

          And all the deepest depths inside me

Are filled with that for which they yearn

          I’d like to do a little math

But often be outside

          And read and write and dance and sing

And have all these things collide

          I just wish that I could find a place

To pursue all my fancies and my dreams

          But this place is hard to find,

Impossible it seems

          But I will take each care to God

And in thanksgiving find his rest

          Then wait and serve until I see

The plan he’s deemed is best

          I will delve into his love letter

And pray each waking hour

          And watch to see his mighty work

Encompassed by his great power

          No matter where he takes me

Regardless of the trials

          My rest shall come from his sweet love

For I am, of course, his child

Safeguard

            Joy is my safeguard

Oh Lord, guard me now

            I know you are with me

You are where joy is found

            I’m out in the world

As I am day-by-day

            I’m holding to you

Guide me safe through the fray

            I am called, I am chosen,

Washed with the blood of the Lamb

            So I rejoice for I’m grateful

For the work of the one great I AM

            The book of Philippians is the first book of the Bible I really fell in love with. It was the first book I memorized. Before our youth group took a trip out to Maine to help run a Vacation Bible School, we had to memorize Philippians 2:5-16 – the passage about Jesus humbling himself to death and now having a name that is above every name and will one day be praised by all. It then goes on to call us to obedience as God is at work in us, to be uncomplaining children who shine his light in the world. And I got caught up in the beauty of scripture. As I sat in my papasan chair in the corner of my bedroom studying my old King James Bible, I said out loud, “And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” It’s the first time I remember having that sensation – that realization of the grandeur and glory of God’s word, its ability to sweep you up into awe of who God is.

            So, I backed up to get verses one through four. And then I moved forward to the end of the chapter. Next came chapter one and then chapters three and four. I always have some trouble sticking with memorization in the closing salutation of epistles, but chapter four, verses four through nine have become life verses for me:

_{Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.}

_{Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.}

Joy leads to peace. Joy comes from tossing aside anxiety and seeking God in all things, pursuing what matters to him, pursuing what he values, praising him and thanking him as he is due.

            These six verses don’t contain the gospel, but for daily Christian living, I don’t know of any others in the Bible which for me have had a stronger or more continual impact on my life.

            Let’s just start with joy.

            Having grown up in the church, I’ve heard countless times that joy isn’t the same thing as happiness because happiness is based on our circumstances, based on happenstance, while joy is rooted in God. And my version of this used to be that happiness is based on temporal circumstances while joy is based on eternal circumstances. But then I shifted to defining joy as “a deep satisfaction in who God is”. More recently, as I wrote a devotional for a young adults group I organize, I extended this to “a deep satisfaction in who God is and the relationship we get to experience with him as his children”.

            Because, if we don’t have a relationship with God as his children, there isn’t actually anything particularly joyful about who God is. He is absolutely just, and none of us are perfect. So, apart from being justified by belief in Christ, the perfect one, God’s justice is terrifying. But if we instead get to come to him as his beloved children, knowing him is delight. Knowing him is joy and peace and contentment and hope.

            I think the beauty of joy first struck me because of my mom and grandma. At this point, both of them are with their Maker, their Joy-giver, but when I remember them, there is a brightness of spirit that shines forth in my mind’s eye. Mom was brisk and busy and energetic, quick to quote Ephesians 4:32: “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you” (also in KJV) and faithful to live it out. She loved to serve and had lips full of laughter, whistling, and wisdom. She took life head-on with practicality and godliness and loved to make music at the piano and tend life in her garden. Grandma lived life richly and invited those around her to do the same. She loved to share life with people and to show them kindness that mirrored God’s kindness. Whether growing flowers, pumpkins, and gourds or out walking, fishing, and four-wheeling, she enthusiastically embraced life and all the beauty and opportunity it contained. And she wasn’t going to let a little thing like chronic pain from fibromyalgia stop her or get her complaining. She was an encourager and an encouragement.

            With two lovely ladies like that in my life, I believed that joy could be lived out on the daily and that it should be. But anxiety wars against joy. Anxiety attempts to rest in self instead of resting in God. And that’s a scary place to be. I have control over my own actions but not much beyond that. God, on the other hand, is in control of everything seen and unseen. So, Philippians gives the solution to anxiety as taking all my cares and requests and concerns to God – with thanksgiving!

            Here again, God is being generous. I don’t think he tells us to thank him just because he likes being thanked. I’ve found in my own life that when I’m in a funk – discouraged or stressed or upset – a deliberate prayer of thankfulness pulls me out of it in a way that not much else can. God’s incomprehensible peace settles on my heart and mind instead.

            And it matters what we think on. There are a lot of ways to apply the phrase: “what goes in must come out,” and one of them is that whatever goes into our minds through our ears will come out of us in our words and actions. “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” This is where peace is found. This is where joy is found. What I listen to, what I watch, what I read, who I speak with – these things all are impacting my thought life, and my thoughts feed my speech and actions.

            But it wasn’t until just a few years ago that Philippians 3:1 struck me: “Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things again is no trouble to me, and it is a safeguard for you.” The KJV says, “but for you it is safe.” Seeing the NASB translation of “it is a safeguard for you” gave me new perspective. How does rejoicing protect me? In an email to a friend last year, I wrote, “What a neat thought! Rejoicing in the Lord guards us. As I meditated on this verse, I was pondering how when I am encouraged in rejoicing in the goodness of my God, I am guarded from sin. So often, when I fall into sin, it has its roots in a lack of joy - discontentment, loneliness, frustration, impatience. But when I rejoice in God, he is my contentment, companion, peace, patience.”

            The poem “Safeguard” was a reminder to myself as much as it was a calling out to God. In this busy, stressful, trapping world, I get worn down. And if I go anywhere but to God in search of my satisfaction and joy, I will not find them. And when I go to him, I must remember that the work of Christ on the cross is sufficient to cleanse me from every sin, that God has chosen me for himself. I go not in fear but in the confidence of love to rest in the presence and character of my great God.

            And this is my response:

My Joyspring

          O, my joyspring, overflowing

God of grace who gives me life

          I walk your way within your kindness

My soul drinks deeply your delight

          I’m astounded how you lead me

By your word and in my prayer,

          Closed doors or Spirit’s nudging,

You show me such meticulous care

          And this joy pours into restful peace

I am a child and favorite of the King

          I bend the knee in full surrender

As I yield myself, you set me free

          Thank you, Father, my joy-giver,

That you have bought me with Christ’s blood

          Adopted in your family,

You make gladness overbrim my cup

            “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; / You have anointed my head with oil; / My cup overflows” (Psalm 23:5).

            The great God of highest heavens cares for me! He loves me. He watches over the course of my life and guides me in paths of life by his sovereignty and in the leading of his Spirit. My life is found in him! I surrender to him, and he cares for my soul and gives me peace.

            The call to follow God is the joy call. It is an invitation to walk in grace – unmerited favor – to experience delight while being shaped more into the likeness of Christ.

            And so I want to close this episode with a different poem than I started with, a call to action which is the cry of my heart, a poem of exultation in my creator.

            One brief note before I do: if you’re not familiar with the term “noblesse oblige”, according to Merriam-Webster, it means “the obligation of honorable, generous, and responsible behavior associated with high rank or birth”. I associate this term with the expectation of British nobility, particularly in the 1800s, to treat those around them well, as a reflection of their gentile station in life. It fits well with the biblical idea of servant leadership to consider that the higher one’s rank in life, the better one ought to treat others. So, if we are children of the King of the universe, our noblesse oblige calls us to treat others better than ourselves. And in the continuously surprising way so typical of God’s mystery, we find our greatest joy along the way.

            Without further ado, here is my rallying call. Come, run with me!

The Joy Call

          O, my Father, my joy-giver,

How you shower down your care!

          In every place you send me,

I still find you with me there

          Now teach my lips to sing your praises

Amongst all people, wherever I go

          I want my life to be a witness

That you, great God, are good to know

          So, make me joyful, a joy-bringer,

Who shares your joy each time I speak

          I desire to be a blessing

And to know that you are pleased in me

          Thank you that you love me

In a way that brings my soul delight

          Make me one who shines your glory,

That others catch and burn as bright

          I am walking in the blessing

Of a child of the King

          Noblesse oblige of highest order

Compels my kindness in all things

          As I’m reaching ever upward,

Keep my feet secure in gospel peace

          I will honor you, my Maker

For this, you set me free

          Throw off the hanging shackles

Where sin once held me from your ways

          In grace, I chase your righteousness

For all my earthly days

          Train my words and thoughts and actions

To be surrendered to the truth

          So when the world looks my direction

All they see in me is you

          This is the joy you give to me,

A calling sure and perfect love

          Teach my heart to heed the summons

Of your joy call from above

Upon the Rock

          Upon the rock, the voice of God

Is the only sound to reach my ears

          Many waters call me upward

I climb faster than my fears

          And I know peace this moment

With all the world ablaze

          Sitting in the warmth and glow

Of the sun’s eternal rays

          I thank you, my good Father,

For these flames that burn to beauty

          While your breath across the water

Comes to cool and renew me

          Now I climb higher at your calling

Hind’s feet to do your will,

          Blessed by resting in your present

“Peace, my child, be still”

            I wrote this poem last October while I was out exploring waterfalls in the Keweenaw Peninsula. For those of you who aren’t very familiar with Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the Keweenaw is the peninsula that sticks out on top of the U.P. When you see Michiganders represent the state with both hands, the Keweenaw is the thumb of the left hand.

            Anyway, I had stopped by Jacob’s Falls, and if you just view it from the road, it’s a pleasant but not overly impressive waterfall. But I was on a solo expedition this time, so I decided to make it an above-average adventure.

            With a bit of scrambling up the left side of the fall (as seen from the road), you can make it up onto a trail through the woods, and as you head up higher, you’ll find that there are additional falls higher up the creek. So, I had crossed the creek, shimmied along a rock ledge skirting a higher and more turbulent fall, balanced my way along a fallen tree, and scrabbled up a steep rise of loose, sandy soil in my adventure that day.

            And then I came upon a large, fairly flat rock beside a deeper section of the creek, where dappled sunlight fell through the autumn leaves and a series of small elevation changes kept the soft rumbling of the water tumbling in my ears.

            I sat down and unslung my shoulder bag, pulled out a spiral notebook and pen, and sat there listening to the world and my heart to see what poem there was to write. And then I penned:

          Upon the rock, the voice of God

Is the only sound to reach my ears

          Many waters call me upward

I climb faster than my fears

And I was smiling. How could I not? I love God and his creation and poetry, and here they all were coming together. And I was writing about both my experience that day and my relationship with God in general.

            I was literally sitting on a rock, but my life also rests upon the rock of God. I was thinking of the parable of the house built upon the rock, which stood firm when the storm came and the floodwaters rose (see Matthew 7).

            And in a sense, I was listening to the voice of God. This world is his masterpiece, endlessly declaring who he is – his character – and his love for us, his power, his beauty, his provision and creativity. But also, Ezekiel 43:2 describes the voice of God as being “like the sound of many waters”. And I was hearing the sound of waterfalls. It was loud enough to be the only sound I heard. And as I sat out in God’s creation, separated from the distractions of the world, all that spoke to me was the Spirit of the Living God dwelling within me.

            Those many waters were calling me upward, literally, the promise of more waterfalls to be seen beckoning me to climb higher. At the same time, I was recognizing that when I hear the voice of God, he is always calling me upward. Calling me to fix my eyes upon him, calling me to draw nearer to him, calling me to a higher standard in how I live my life.

            And I was climbing faster than my fears. I can be a cautious person, but I was choosing to take physical risks to fully experience the richness of the world around me. I wasn’t stopping to overthink and overanalyze everything because then I probably wouldn’t have done more than just walk the trail running tandem to the creek. And if that had been all I’d done, I might not have written the poem at all, and I don’t think the time would have been as memorable.

            That’s probably how I should come to God as well – climbing faster than my fears. If I want to experience the fullness of life he’s offering me, I need to act outside of my fears, outside of my comfort zone. When he calls me, I should go running, regardless of what seeming obstacles stand in the way.

            Even now, as I contemplate what that means or should mean, the first thing that comes to mind is friendship, relationships. I often find love to be a scary thing. What if I show someone by word or action how much he or she means to me, and my love is not only not reciprocated but rejected? Isn’t that what holds us back from loving freely and openly? And just to be clear, I’m not talking about romantic love. I’m talking about a deep care for another image-bearer of God.

            I could walk the easy path, and I would be safe, but how much would the experience really mean? Or I can go where things get real, take risks, and find that the reward is a life worth remembering. When God calls me upward, I can run to meet him.

          And I know peace this moment

With all the world ablaze

          Sitting in the warmth and glow

Of the sun’s eternal rays

            It has seemed to me in the last few years that the world has gone crazy in a whole new way; that might just be my perception as I get older and the craziness surfaces more in my own country. Either way, that’s one of the things I meant by “all the world ablaze”. The world is burning itself to destruction in the flame of desire and hatred. But I also meant that the woods surrounding me were ablaze with autumn color. And in the midst of both – the big, global world of insanity and the smaller, local world of the Keweenaw – I had peace. I was “Sitting in the warmth and glow / Of the sun’s eternal rays”.

            The sun, S-U-N, which is a star we call Sol isn’t actually eternal. It was spoken into being by the eternal Son, S-O-N, who speaks and spins galaxies by his words. I was sitting in the thermal warmth of the S-U-N sun’s radiance and the optically observable glow of its light. And my heart was warmed by the sovereign care of the S-O-N Son which sets my world aglow.

            Peace. The absence of conflict. A secure sense of being fully provided for.

            While the world burns beyond my control, I rest in the presence of my maker, and all is well with me.

          I thank you, my good Father,

For these flames that burn to beauty

          While your breath across the water

Comes to cool and renew me

            I love the season of autumn. Without even counting the number of times “fall” shows up, my master poetry file includes the word “autumn” fifty-one times. At its most simplistic, this stanza is thanking my kind father, God, for the beautiful season he created. Every year, in temperate climates richly populated by deciduous trees, the chlorophyl empties from the green leaves of summer to reveal flaming reds, oranges, and yellows that burn into a rustling wonder of gorgeous flame.

            Yet, this is a recognition too that as our world burns to destruction, a day is coming when it will be replaced with a better world. That’s how it’s burning to beauty. In Revelation 21, the new Jerusalem, the new city of peace, is described as:

_{having the glory of God. Her brilliance was like a very costly stone, as a stone of crystal-clear jasper. It had a great and high wall… The material of the wall was jasper; and the city was pure gold, like clear glass. The foundation stones of the city wall were adorned with every kind of precious stone… And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; each one of the gates was a single pearl. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass.}

_{I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.}

Sounds like dazzling loveliness to me.

            In the waiting, I am renewed by Christ. When my strength feels gone, he is my refreshment.

            And as I sat there in the sunlight after a physically demanding climb, I was a little tired and overwarm, but then came a breeze across the cool creek, and I was refreshed for the next leg of my adventure.

          Now I climb higher at your calling

Hind’s feet to do your will,

          Blessed by resting in your present

“Peace, my child, be still”

            I don’t remember whether I actually climbed higher up the creek that day, but I’ve continued climbing higher in my quest to be nearer and more like my God.

Habakkuk 3:19: “The Lord God is my strength, / And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, / And makes me walk on my high places.”

            I don’t think God does anything just because. He’s far too intentional for that. He’s weaving a big, beautiful tapestry of life, and right now, we’re just seeing the tangled underside, but he’s looking at the ultimate masterpiece coming together.

            He doesn’t prepare my feet for the steep upward climb into his glory so that I may merely walk more surely in the mediocrity of a life that is safe. He prepares me for the work he actually intends for me to do. So, I climb higher. And as my lungs adjust to air that is lighter, I breathe in the purest breaths with which my mortal frame has ever been filled.

            “Blessed by resting in your present / ‘Peace, my child, be still’”.

            I could have said presence instead of present. But as someone who spends far too much time mentally in the future, I was glad to embrace a present that scarcely seemed as though it could be improved upon. I was experiencing life that was restful in the simple moment I was in. And I was resting in a present, a gift from the hand of my generous Father.

            “Peace, my child, be still.”

            I am restless by nature. I always want to know the next thing. What am I going to do? Who am I going to see? What will I accomplish? What should I be doing? Having checked one goal off the list, which do I tackle next?

            But when I am with God, when I simply rest in his presence, there is a stillness. I know peace. It is enough that he is my God, my Father, and I am his child.

            If you spent much time around me in real life, it would only be a matter of time until you heard me referencing or quoting one of the books in L.M. Montgomery’s Anne series. There are a lot of things I love about them, and as I prepare to wrap up this episode, a scene from chapter thirteen of Anne of Avonlea comes to mind. Anne is out on a picnic with three of her dearest friends when she asks:

_{"Look do you see that poem?" she said suddenly, pointing.}

_{"Where?" Jane and Diana stared, as if expecting to see Runic rhymes on the birch trees.}

_{"There. . .down in the brook. . .that old green, mossy log with the water flowing over it in those smooth ripples that look as if they'd been combed, and that single shaft of sunshine falling right athwart it, far down into the pool. Oh, it's the most beautiful poem I ever saw."}

_{"I should rather call it a picture," said Jane. "A poem is lines and verses."}

_{"Oh dear me, no." Anne shook her head with its fluffy wild cherry coronal positively. "The lines and verses are only the outward garments of the poem and are no more really it than your ruffles and flounces are YOU, Jane. The real poem is the soul within them . . .and that beautiful bit is the soul of an unwritten poem. It is not every day one sees a soul. . .even of a poem."}

And that pretty well captures the inspiration for this poem of mine. I saw and felt it embodied in the physical and spiritual world around me, so I took some time to try to sketch it out in the sorts of lines and verses that Jane was looking for from Anne.

            But I’m not sure that I agree with Anne that “It is not every day one sees a soul…even of a poem.” I think that souls of poems surround us every day, but sometimes we don’t have the right words to give them readable form. Often, they are like the pictures we see while lacking the camera to do the scene justice.

            So, come into this poem with me. Souls never lose their substance with the passing of time.

Upon the Rock

          Upon the rock, the voice of God

Is the only sound to reach my ears

          Many waters call me upward

I climb faster than my fears

          And I know peace this moment

With all the world ablaze

          Sitting in the warmth and glow

Of the sun’s eternal rays

          I thank you, my good Father,

For these flames that burn to beauty

          While your breath across the water

Comes to cool and renew me

          Now I climb higher at your calling

Hind’s feet to do your will,

          Blessed by resting in your present

“Peace, my child, be still”

Like a Child

          Help me come to you in innocence

To come just like a child

          To come with eyes wide open

To learn and imitate your style

          I want to speak the way you’re speaking

To be amazed by all you do

          If it’s something that you’re doing

Then I want to do it too

          Give my heart the strong desire

To be with you all the time

          To want you always with me

And have your ear be ever mine

          And when my task is hard for me

Teach me to turn to you in trust,

          Believing you will aid me

To accomplish what I must

          I know you are my safe place

You are a generous, loving friend

          You pour out your best for me

You lead me by the hand

          So I imitate my Father

I grow up in your grace

          And ever I draw nearer,

As I seek your well-loved face

          I rest in this simplicity

Thank you for your care

          I need you and I love you

As your child, I bring my prayer

            Okay, another confession. This poem, I also wrote in church, and it also had in many ways very little to do with the sermon that was being preached. But as I sat there, a little girl came down the aisle, returning to sit with her family. And I started thinking about how God wants us to come to him with a childlike faith – Matthew 18:3b-4: “Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

            From my limited but ongoing contact with young children throughout my life, I’ve always taken the idea of coming with childlike faith to mean believing simplistically that God is and that he is good and that he is trustworthy. But that has taken on a new meaning for me in these last few years as I’ve gotten to be a part of the life of the little girl of one of my dearest friends. We’ll call her Marie for the sake of this episode.

          Help me come to you in innocence

To come just like a child

          To come with eyes wide open

To learn and imitate your style

            Here, I think of innocence as an open trust. There is a delightful purity in the openness of little children. They’re not putting on a show; they are expressing thoughts and emotions in an unfiltered or only lightly filtered state. Of course, this isn’t always delightful, but when they unguardedly express and display their affection for those who care for them, it is heartwarming. And to be the recipient of unmarred trust is a treasure.

            “Trust in the Lord with all your heart” (Proverbs 3:5a). That is such a struggle for me. But if I believe that God is good and that he loves me and that he holds all power, why would I not trust him?

            And coming with eyes wide open. Part of this is eyes wide open to the wonder of the world around us. I think about Marie visiting me at my apartment when she was just a baby crawling on the floor. And I had shag carpet, which wasn’t a thing at her house. And as she reached the edge of her blanket and encountered the carpet, she ran her hand across it with a look of fascinated wonder on her face. What was this new thing she hadn’t encountered before?

            And tapping on a Rubbermaid tote with her and experiencing sound as an exploration of possibilities. It’s the sort of thing I often miss out on in my adulthood because I have lost some of my wonder at the design of our world.

            But she hasn’t. Her eyes are wide open to the world around her. I want my eyes to be open like that too.

            But it’s not just to the inanimate world that her eyes are open. She’s watching me too. She wants to see what I’m doing and hear how I’m speaking so that she can imitate.

          I want to speak the way you’re speaking

To be amazed by all you do

          If it’s something that you’re doing

Then I want to do it too

            I remember when Marie was getting ready to talk how she would watch my lips, trying to figure out how I formed my words. And now, as she’s getting to be really good at speaking, I hear her change her word choices to match up with mine.

            I want to do that with God and his words. I want to speak with love and compassion, purity and truth, power and conviction. I want my words to be as in Ephesians 4:29: “Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.”

            Marie watches the adults around her and then often tries to do what she sees us doing. Ephesians 5:1-2: “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.” If I come as a child and if I believe that God’s work is amazing and worthy of imitation, then I’m going to be living sacrificially, laying down my life for the glory of God and the good of others.

          Give my heart the strong desire

To be with you all the time

          To want you always with me

And have your ear be ever mine

            When I’m visiting with Marie’s mom, Marie wants to visit with me. And if I’m not ready to head out in the living room to play with her, she’ll probably want to at least climb up in my lap to just be with me. And I don’t always feel that same desire in my heart with regard to God. I love being in his presence. If I hit the hiking trails to pray, when I come back to the parking lot, I don’t really want to get in my car and drive back to the rest of my life and all its distractions. But once I’m back to the distractions, I don’t always remember to continually remain with God, to abide in him. I think the idea of “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thessalonians 5:17 is that of continuously dwelling in the presence of God. We probably aren’t always going to be speaking with our minds or our lips to God, but we should be always remembering him and seeking to abide in him. But this stanza is asking God to change my heart to practice that continual remembrance of and desire for him.

            And to have his ear be ever mine.

            Although Marie can be good about sitting quietly with me while I visit with her mom, she would rather that I listen to her all the time. And I can’t. I don’t have the bigness of God to be able to listen to the whole world at once and hear and understand and respond. I’m much too finite for that. But God isn’t. When he invites and commands me to “pray without ceasing”, he’s telling me that his ear is always free for me to speak. Now, I do need to be careful to not let my tongue run on like a fiddlestick. Ecclesiastes 5:2 does admonish, “Do not be hasty in word or impulsive in thought to bring up a matter in the presence of God. For God is in heaven and you are on the earth; therefore let your words be few,” so I shouldn’t be acting exactly like my favorite three-year-old, but I want to continuously want his attention and affection like she shows me that she wants mine.

          And when my task is hard for me

Teach me to turn to you in trust,

          Believing you will aid me

To accomplish what I must

            When Marie needs help with something that is too difficult for her, she has no qualms in asking me to help her. She believes that I’d like to help her carry big, heavy objects, close those difficult snaps, cuff her sleeves when she hasn’t quite grown into her shirt. And she’s right. I love her, and it is my pleasure to serve her. Psalm 46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, / A very present help in trouble.” I don’t always have the knack of a toddler for trusting that my very present help delights to help me. But I learn more about God’s love in loving this little girl. I’m not even her parent, much less her creator, but I care for her deeply and like it when she brings me her requests and her struggles and allows me to be the one to help her. I want to grow in relating to God that way, in bringing him my requests and my struggles, trusting that because he cares for me, he is glad to hear from me and to give me the assistance I need.

            But I need to remember too that just like there are some things I would encourage Marie to do herself because I know that she is able and because the effort will help her develop new skills and strengths, there will be sometimes God says no to my requests because he’s going to grow me through the experience he’s shepherding me into.

          I know you are my safe place

You are a generous, loving friend

          You pour out your best for me

You lead me by the hand

            There have been a couple times now where I’ve been part of a larger get-together where Marie has also been present. And I can relate to her feelings of shyness in those moments. And again, my heart is glad when she demonstrates her trust in me – those times that she takes refuge by my side because I am known and her friend and therefore safe. How much more so God!

            Whatever my good intentions, I will eventually fail due to human frailty. There will be times that impatience or lack of understanding or ignorance or weakness make me an imperfect refuge, but God doesn’t have those struggles.

            I wonder how many times I’ve failed to take refuge in God because I was too bewildered to even remember to take him by the hand.

            But Marie doesn’t forget. Whether she’s in a room of people she doesn’t know or climbing a tall, steep set of stairs, she’ll reach for my hand or stay close to my side.

            James 4:8a: “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.”

            If I seek God, I will find that he is right there waiting to be my safe place.

            Psalm 84:11b: “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”

            And while I remain by his side, he will give me all the good things I ought to have to flourish in his care.

          So I imitate my Father

I grow up in your grace

          And ever I draw nearer,

As I seek your well-loved face

            This is the point of transition in the poem, where I’m shifting from what I’m asking and desiring to expressing what I am choosing and living out. I am seeking to imitate my Father, and as I do, I am “grow[ing] in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,” as in Peter’s closing benediction given in 2 Peter 3:18. I want to be near him, to know him intimately, to catch his every look and word. So, I read his word. I pray. I spend time in his presence, and as I do, I find that I talk more like he does and act more like he.

          I rest in this simplicity

Thank you for your care

          I need you and I love you

As your child, I bring my prayer

            Here, I look not to Marie but to myself. “I rest in this simplicity / Thank you for your care”. Regardless of my age, when I think of who in my life unconditionally loved me – of mortals, that is – my mom is at the forefront of my mind. And our relationship was simple. She loved me. I loved her. I trusted in her love and didn’t know of anything I possibly could have done that would have brought an end to her love.

            Now I apply that to my relationship with God. He loves me. I love him…because he first loved me. And there isn’t anything I could do to bring an end to his love for me.

            His care for me is amazing. He doesn’t always give me what I ask for. But sometimes he gives me wonderful gifts I didn’t know to ask for. He provides for my physical needs but also my emotional and spiritual needs. He guides the path of my life so that I can thrive.

            If I was responsible for all those things, it wouldn’t be so simple. But the God who speaks things into being finds it really simple to provide for all of my needs and then even give amazing gifts on top of that.

            I need him. I need him to hold me together and this world together. I need him to strengthen and protect me. I need him to be my rescue from sin and self and the punishment I deserve.

            And he meets my every need.

            Sometimes, looking at children, one could almost wonder why God ever allows us to grow up. Other times, looking at the same children, it’s really obvious why God forces us to grow up.

            I’m so thankful for what human interactions can teach us about relating to God. Consider the person in your life who you love most sacrificially, the one you are gladdest to serve sacrificially. And then think how much it makes your day when that person actually opens himself/herself up to your love. And then seeks to reciprocate. I think that gives us a little glimpse of what it’s like to be loved by God and his pleasure in our attempts to return his love.

            I want to come to God always with an innocent, all-in, excited kind of love.

Like a Child

          Help me come to you in innocence

To come just like a child

          To come with eyes wide open

To learn and imitate your style

          I want to speak the way you’re speaking

To be amazed by all you do

          If it’s something that you’re doing

Then I want to do it too

          Give my heart the strong desire

To be with you all the time

          To want you always with me

And have your ear be ever mine

          And when my task is hard for me

Teach me to turn to you in trust,

          Believing you will aid me

To accomplish what I must

          I know you are my safe place

You are a generous, loving friend

          You pour out your best for me

You lead me by the hand

          So I imitate my Father

I grow up in your grace

          And ever I draw nearer,

As I seek your well-loved face

          I rest in this simplicity

Thank you for your care

          I need you and I love you

As your child, I bring my prayer

Abundance

          I abide in your abundance

Sweet sustainer of my soul

          Completeness comes through Christ’s compassion

Filling up my freedom full

          The righteous one has kindly ransomed

Me, the one whom sin would slay

          Now life has come and lit my lamp

With divine devotion every day

          I testify against the tempter

That God has gifted me with grace

          And washes me with living water

The Perfect Priest preserves my place

          Spirit strength flows from salvation

Through my being in belief

          I walk the way of worship

As the Master’s mercy teaches me

          I have absolutely found abundance

In the guidance of my God

          Loving judge, you are the joyspring

I will deeply drink each day that dawns

            So you keep hearing me use that word: abundance, abundant. What does it mean?

            My mind goes several places when I think of abundance or more specifically, abundant life. The first is actually Psalm 16:5-6, where David exults, “The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; / You support my lot. / The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; / Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.” Within those verses, the part about the lines falling to me in pleasant places is the part that speaks to me most of abundance. Because God sets boundaries for our lives to keep us in the path of abundance.

            In Genesis 2:17, where God warns Adam, “but from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat from it you will surely die,” the Hebrew word translated as “die” actually means “dying you will die”. God wasn’t telling Adam instant death would follow. He was telling him he would be choosing the path of death.

            I like to think of abundant life as living you will live, walking in the path that leads to life.

            So, where do the boundary lines come in?

            In my mind, I have a picture of walking along a dirt footpath with rope cordons along either side to prevent me from straying. I walk the path of life, and God’s boundary lines keep me there.

            But you know, I’m also a word nerd, so I like to consult the dictionary as well, and Oxford Languages defines abundant as “existing or available in large quantities; plentiful.” And now my mind wanders to The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Early on in the movie, the head honcho of the takeover of Life magazine reads a telegram that refers to the “quintessence of Life”. As he consults his minions about what quintessence means, one of them supplies, “It means like the fullest and most rich.” I like that. God is inviting us to experience quintessence.

            I also like the motto of Life in the movie: “To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life.”

            I like this movie because it encourages the viewer to get out and live, not just to daydream about what life could be but to instead experience what life could be. The main character, Walter Mitty, dreamed as a young man of seeing the world, but he ended up spending his career at a desk job, in a dark basement. But when his call to action comes, he sets off on a crazy adventure that takes him jumping out of a helicopter, longboarding down a mountain, hiking through the Himalayas. His propensity for distractedly daydreaming is gone because he is at last living the kind of adventures he had previously only dreamed about.

            There is risk in living you will live. “Things dangerous to come to.” But you might also see that there is more to life than you ever dreamed. “To see behind walls.” And when you are out living and taking risks and failing and needing rescuing, you’ll probably “draw closer” and “find…other[s]”. You will most definitely be made to feel.

          I abide in your abundance

Sweet sustainer of my soul

          Completeness comes through Christ’s compassion

Filling up my freedom full

            This was another poem I started writing in church, and although I don’t remember what the sermon was about, I suspect it actually had little to do with the idea of this poem.

            Abide.

            Is that word sweet to you? It is to me. Where “bide” brings to mind the idea of waiting, “abide” brings to my mind the idea of resting securely in a place. According to Oxford Languages, both words as used here are archaic. Bide: “remain or stay somewhere”. Abide: “live; dwell”.

            Jesus says in John 15:4-5, “Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing.”

            Live in me. Dwell in me.

            Abundance: “plentifulness of the good things of life; prosperity”

            What comes to mind when you think about a fruitful life? What sorts of fruit would you like to bear in your life? How about “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control”? That is the fruit of God’s Spirit, according to Galatians 5:22b-23a.

            When we choose the path of living you will live, we choose to live in Christ. We are offshoots from his vine, and when we remain in him, we bear beautiful fruit in our lives. And that becomes not only the fruit we offer to others but that which we ourselves eat as well. We have plenty of the good things in life when we bear God’s fruit because the fruit itself is wholesome and sweet.

            Sustainer.

Psalm 54:4: “Behold, God is my helper; / The Lord is the sustainer of my soul.”

Colossians 1:17b: “In Him all things hold together.”

            Do you ever feel weak, like you can’t hold yourself together? The Lord God waits for you to seek him. He is a helper, and he is your sustainer, your strength and support. Read through Colossians 1:15-20 sometime. Study it. Christ is glorious. The first half of verse 16 says, “For by Him all things were created,” and Hebrews 1:3 corroborates that Jesus “upholds all things by the word of His power.”

            If you seek him, he will uphold you and be your strength.

            Completeness.

            I’m usually quoting from the NASB 1995 translation of the Bible, but I also like the NET Bible, especially for the Hebrew or Greek side-by-side available for all the passages. NASB gives Colossians 2:10a as “and in Him you have been made complete.” NET says instead, “and you have been filled in him.” Two of the beautiful definitions given for the word filled there, or complete elsewhere: “to cause to abound, to furnish or supply liberally” and “to make complete in every particular, to render perfect”.

            That’s what Jesus is doing for us. That’s what he did on the cross. Colossians 2:13-14: “When you were dead in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions, having canceled out the certificate of debt consisting of decrees against us, which was hostile to us; and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross.”

            We were busy dying our way to death, and Jesus entered our world to offer us a trade. Give up death and enter life. I will take your death so that you may take my life. Abound in me. Be perfect in me. Live your way to life. Your life is found in me.

            This is Christ’s compassion. He stepped out of the throne room of all creation to trade his life for ours. He suffered death so that we could choose life.

            Freedom.

            Again and again in the Bible, we see the pattern of choosing between two masters. God or Baal, spirit or flesh, life or death. We want to be our own masters, but we will not serve our better selves unless we are surrendering to God. “Do you not know that when you present yourselves to someone as slaves for obedience, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin resulting in death, or of obedience resulting in righteousness? But thanks be to God that though you were slaves of sin, you became obedient from the heart to that form of teaching to which you were committed, and having been freed from sin, you became slaves of righteousness” (Romans 6:16-18).

            I can choose to serve myself, but in reality, I will end up serving sin. I will fall prey to laziness, anxiety, doubt, gossip, selfishness, and unrestrained, who knows how far my sin may lead me? I will be insecure and uncertain, miss out on delightful friendships, continually fall short of my potential, and always be wondering what I’m missing out on, what more I could do to give meaning to my life.

            Or I can serve God and be set free from self and sin. You can think that as this is just another form of slavery, I’m not really free. But now I’m walking in sure confidence, discipline, and kindness. I’m experiencing rich friendships, I’m secure in the care of my heavenly Father, I know the truth, and I’m achieving the work which I was put on this earth to do. What part of that would I want to escape from?

          The righteous one has kindly ransomed

Me, the one whom sin would slay

          Now life has come and lit my lamp

With divine devotion every day

            We already looked at the ransoming work of Christ, his taking our death so that we might have his life. This was his plan from the beginning because he knew what sin would do to us. God told Cain after he killed Abel, “And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it” (Genesis 4:6b). Do you hear the warning of 1 Peter 5:8b: “Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour”?

            Whatever fleeting pleasure sin might bring, it tends towards death. Would you rather be smoking cigarettes and getting a jolt of feel good from that dose of nicotine while your lungs fill with tar or sacrifice your addiction to instead breathe freely and make the most of whatever physical capabilities you have? Sin will kill you; it’s just a matter of time. But abiding in Christ will just as certainly bring life.

            He “has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9b).

            Abiding in Christ is flipping on the light switch. It’s walking out into a perfect summer day.

            Have you noticed that in action movies, the really tense, scary moments rarely take place where there is a clear, unobstructed view? Why are children – and sometimes adults – afraid of the dark? Why do people have better mental health when they work in an environment with windows? If you picture the “valley of the shadow of death”, is it a sunshiny place?

            Sin is darkness, and it oppresses us. But abiding in Christ illuminates our world. In the darkness, we don’t see clearly, and we’re afraid of what lies ahead. We can hide in it, but all the while, we wish we were brave enough, pure enough to let ourselves be known. But in Christ, we see clearly who and what we are made to be. We are known by him and able to grow in a desire to let others know us.

            When I think about a lit lamp and divine devotion, I think of a quote from Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady, where a character’s devotion is described as “the light of a passion…which burned as steadily as a lamp in a windless place,” and that of course makes me think of the parable of the ten virgins in Matthew 25.

            If our devotion to Christ is a lamp, he lights our wick when we trust in him. And then as we abide in him, we eternally have the oil to burn steadily for him. Zechariah 4 describes lampstands being continuously fed with olive oil from their neighboring olive trees. I really like the picture that gives of God’s provision. When we abide in Christ, we are everlastingly filled for our intended service.

          I testify against the tempter

That God has gifted me with grace

          And washes me with living water

The Perfect Priest preserves my place

            In Job 1, we learn that Satan shows up in God’s throne room to accuse God’s servants, so it’s not too surprising to hear Satan described in Revelation 12 as “the accuser of our brethren…he who accuses them before our God day and night” (verse 10). And there is a day coming when “we will all stand before the judgment seat of God” (Romans 14:10b) and “each one of us will give an account of himself to God” (Romans 14:12b).

            So, I picture myself in the courtroom of my God – as best I can with what I know now. At the final judgment, Satan will already have been bound, but as I answer to God for my life, my testimony will be that I have trusted in Christ for salvation, that he has shown me unmerited favor and traded my death for his life. And right now, as Satan is accusing me before God, I don’t have to live under the weight of my guilt. Jesus is living water (see John 4), and he has washed me clean. This brings to mind for me the physical picture of baptism and the spiritual reality it represents:

“Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have become united with Him in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection, knowing this, that our old self was crucified with Him, in order that our body of sin might be done away with, so that we would no longer be slaves to sin; for he who has died is freed from sin” (Romans 6:4-7).

            And this work of Christ will not be undone. If you want a clear picture of what it means for Christ to be our perfect high priest, spend some time in the book of Hebrews. For now, I will summarize with Hebrews 7:26-27: “For it was fitting for us to have such a high priest, holy, innocent, undefiled, separated from sinners and exalted above the heavens; who does not need daily, like those high priests, to offer up sacrifices, first for His own sins and then for the sins of the people, because this He did once for all when He offered up Himself.”

            The Levitical priests were continually slaughtering animals, firing their flesh and pouring out their blood, in an everlasting reminder of the weightiness of sin. They were also sinful men, and they had to make atonement for their own wrongdoing as well as that of their countrymen.

            But Christ is perfect. He does not make sacrifices for his own sins because he has none. And his sacrifice was sufficient to entirely pay the price for our sin. I stand in grace because my perfect high priest has done away with my body of sin and freed me from sin. I will receive his inheritance just for trusting in and walking with him in the path of life.

          Spirit strength flows from salvation

Through my being in belief

          I walk the way of worship

As the Master’s mercy teaches me

            “But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you” (Romans 8:11). The strength of my life comes from the Spirit of God dwelling in me. How cool is that?! Check out Jeremy Camp’s song, “Same Power”, sometime. This is a great anthem to remind us to be filled with the Spirit.

            Ephesians 1:13 tells us that when we believe in the gospel of salvation, we are sealed with the Holy Spirit, and Jesus says in John 16:7 that it’s to our advantage that he leave so that the Holy Spirit will come.

            So, now I ascribe worth to God. His mercy has pulled me out of the darkness and allowed me to see that life and freedom, hope and peace, are found in walking his way. Living I will live.

          I have absolutely found abundance

In the guidance of my God

          Loving judge, you are the joyspring

I will deeply drink each day that dawns

            What else do I say? Can you see now how life in Christ is life abundant? He guides me in paths of life. He is the good shepherd described in Psalm 23. My strength and completeness and freedom are in him. I have been rescued from death and given purpose. My life is made fruitful. I am supplied with everything I need. No accusation can stand against me now in God’s court because the price of my sin has been paid in full for all eternity. I am strengthened by the Spirit of the living God, and my joy overflows in worship. I abide in the true vine, and the oil of my branch will never run dry. My lamp will not go out.

            This is what I mean when I talk about life abundant. Every time I introduce this podcast and every time I close it, this is what I’m inviting you to explore and believe and live out. This is life that is meaningful. This is life that is an everlasting delight. On this earth, sin still mars it. But on the new earth, abundant life will be untarnished by any speck of evil. That is what we’re walking towards.

            Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and chose in doing so to start walking towards death. We eat of the bread of Christ and in doing so start walking towards life, start walking in life.

            Now, before I close with the poem, I just have a brief author’s note for you. This is one of my more alliterative poems. After starting with “I abide in your abundance”, I had the bug, and once “Completeness comes through Christ’s compassion” was written, I set out to make each line alliterative. Writing truth without compromising rhyme schemes or cadence is its own challenge. Add in alliteration, and it’s a whole new level of tricky. But I had a lot of fun writing this and was encouraged at the same time. This is my declaration of what it is to walk in Christ.

Abundance

          I abide in your abundance

Sweet sustainer of my soul

          Completeness comes through Christ’s compassion

Filling up my freedom full

          The righteous one has kindly ransomed

Me, the one whom sin would slay

          Now life has come and lit my lamp

With divine devotion every day

          I testify against the tempter

That God has gifted me with grace

          And washes me with living water

The Perfect Priest preserves my place

          Spirit strength flows from salvation

Through my being in belief

          I walk the way of worship

As the Master’s mercy teaches me

          I have absolutely found abundance

In the guidance of my God

          Loving judge, you are the joyspring

I will deeply drink each day that dawns

The Way of Discipline

          When reality comes calling,

Will you meet it at the gate?

          Will you face it through the suffering

And bear with it through pain?

          Will you believe the God who called you

Still sustains you with his grace,

          That in each and every circumstance

He’s already made a way?

          This life is rarely easy

But the struggle makes us grow

          When we trust the God who made us

With the things we cannot know

          We find strength in persevering

We find peace in choosing joy

          There is life in building friendships

And being usefully employed

          Your destiny is calling

You were made for days like these

          As you walk the way of discipline

Your soul is kindled and set free

          Fear not, then, at the mission

Which is laid upon your life

          Accept it in the confidence

That God will make the outcome right

            Discipline has been incredibly life-giving for me. Something a lot of my friends and probably a solid handful of my acquaintances have heard me say – possibly more than once – is that discipline begets discipline. What I mean by that is that when I’m disciplined in one area of my life – studying God’s word, let’s say – I’m more likely to be disciplined in other areas of my life as well – perhaps eating healthily and completing household chores.

            I tend to think of self-control and discipline as being synonyms, and I think that also helps explain why being disciplined in one area makes it easier to be disciplined in other areas as well.

            Think about it this way: let’s say you wanted to become a wild animal tamer. The excitement and variety appeal to you. But you’re not sure you can actually control a hippo or a lion or an ostrich. But then you tame the hippo. Alright, that lion isn’t as a big as a hippo. You square up to the lion, and soon it’s purring under your hand. At this point, the ostrich is hardly a big deal at all.

            Okay, now imagine instead that you tamed the hippo, but the lion got the better of you. Will you still take on the ostrich, or have you already given up?

            If I can control my self when I want to eat a bag of Sun Chips followed by a pint of ice cream and instead cook up some chicken picate and herbed brown rice with string beans on the side, I start to feel that maybe I can also commit to faithfully serving in the ministry God is calling me to. I can turn off that show or close that book and go mow my lawn or write someone a letter.

            When I exercise self-control, I learn how to control my self, and then I can apply those lessons to a variety of tasks. And having seen the success of that self-control, I have the confidence to tackle new challenges in the belief that I will be successful there too.

            Plus, discipline adds structure to life. If I know I have work to do, friends to see, dances to go to, a community social event to plan, I also know I have limited time in which to get my groceries, make my meals, mow my lawn, clean my house. So, I’m going to stop procrastinating and get up to do things.

            Conversely, if I eat that bag of Sun Chips and pint of ice cream, I might also waste away the evening watching YouTube videos and miss my evening devotional. Tossing out discipline tosses out structure as well. And I am prone sometimes to think that if I’ve failed already, what’s even the point of continuing to try? It’s a slippery slope. So, it’s best to not start sliding down in the first place. Discipline begets discipline.

            One more thought before we really dive in. Self-control is the art of bossing yourself around.

            Talking to a friend several years ago, she was telling me how much easier it had been to do what needed doing as a child, since her mom told her what to do, and all she had to do was obey. That developed into a conversation about how we need to boss ourselves around now as adults. The key thing is: we also need to be willing to listen and obey.

            All that said, I wrote this poem after speaking with a couple younger ladies who were talking about days where depression wouldn’t let them even get out of bed.

          When reality comes calling,

Will you meet it at the gate?

          Will you face it through the suffering

And bear with it through pain?

            I don’t know if you’ve ever heard someone say that “this generation is soft”, but I knew some of my great-grandparents through most of my childhood, and I can see what people are getting at.

            Just thinking of the great-grandparents I knew best, my great-grandpa ran away from home to escape his homicidal step-dad and lived with his grandpa in a house where there were literally holes in the roof and his foot could freeze to the metal bedframe in the winter if he accidentally let it touch. He only had an eighth-grade education and worked behind a plow horse in the fields. As a young man, he went into the army, and afterwards, in addition to farming, he started multiple businesses. At the end of his life, he had done well enough to leave a financial legacy to not just his grandchildren but his great-grandchildren as well.

            My great-grandma also started her own business, but there are a couple other aspects of her story I want to focus on in overcoming adversity. As a young woman, her preemie baby boy died tragically through the neglect of a couple friends who had offered to watch him for the night, to give her one night of reprieve from the diligent care she had lavished on him for weeks. Heartbroken, she pressed on. Later in life, she had a botched back surgery and was told she would never walk again. But walk she did. All my life, she walked with a cane, but she would also mow her own lawn or climb up in the sink to wash her kitchen windows.

            They faced a harsh reality, but they met it head on. Pain and suffering came uninvited to their doors throughout their lifetimes. But they disciplined themselves to get out of bed and do what must be done.

          Will you believe the God who called you

Still sustains you with his grace,

          That in each and every circumstance

He’s already made a way?

            Sadly, these great-grandparents of mine didn’t spend their lives pursuing God. They faced these trials through grit, not faith.

            But for me and you too, believer, God says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). And I want to be able to sincerely join with Paul in responding, “Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9b-10). This is while Paul is talking about a messenger of Satan sent to torment him. Do you believe God will sustain you with his grace?

            1 Corinthians 10:13 says, “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.”

            God does not allow challenges in our lives which we are unable in his strength to overcome. If your creator told you to tame the lion, would you believe he would protect you while you did so, that he would grant you success as you walked in obedience?

          This life is rarely easy

But the struggle makes us grow

          When we trust the God who made us

With the things we cannot know

            A couple years ago, in Bible study at my church, we were studying through 1 Peter. And I don’t know about you, but for me, I sometimes find that I can read over or listen to a chapter more than once and completely miss some key truth, only to have it hit me strikingly at a subsequent reading. Well, as we got to chapter four, and I read verse twelve: “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you, which comes upon you for your testing, as though some strange thing were happening to you”, I think I might have actually laughed, but I certainly at least grinned.

            Isn’t this what we need to hear? Don’t be surprised when life is hard! The part that made me laugh was “as though some strange thing were happening to you”. Because I think that’s often how we act. Life gets hard – or continues being hard, as the case may be – and we act like it’s hard to understand, as though we expected something different.

            James commands in James 1:2-4, “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

            A year or two ago, a friend and I were discussing how great it would be if when trials entered our lives, we could get to the point of thinking, “Yes! I have an opportunity to grow in Christ-likeness and glorify God!” Would you be surprised if I told you we’re not there yet?

            But that’s basically what James is saying to do. Celebrate when life gets tough because God’s going to use it to continue his perfect work in you.

            Are you comforted by Genesis 50:20? Joseph tells his brothers, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

            His brothers sold him into slavery, deciding that option was, after all, preferable to killing him or leaving him to die in a pit. And Joseph had seen visions of the extraordinary future God had for him, but I don’t think he knew while he was in prison for a crime he didn’t commit how God was going to work things out for good.

            Psalm 139:13, 16b declares, “For You formed my inward parts; / You wove me in my mother’s womb… And in Your book were all written / The days that were ordained for me, / When as yet there was not one of them.” This was written by David, who ran for his life after God’s priest had anointed him as king. Our maker knows his plans for us, and nothing in this life is going to thwart them. We don’t know the number of our days or the joys or sorrows that will fill them, but God does, and he loves us intimately.

          We find strength in persevering

We find peace in choosing joy

          There is life in building friendships

And being usefully employed

            Do you ever come to a passage in the Bible which practically compels you to read it out loud and sweeps you up into the magnificence of it? 2 Peter 1:5b-8 is such a passage for me. “In your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I love this waterfall affect of one thing pouring into another and then another. Faith leads to self-control and perseverance, and in this, we are equipped to serve Jesus.

            One of my favorite verses in the Bible is Philippians 4:4: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!”

            Joy is a choice. It has to be, or else we couldn’t be commanded to rejoice always. And it leads to peace. A couple verses later, after the encouragement not to worry but to take all our concerns and requests and thanksgiving to God, Paul says in verse 7, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

            Personally, I define joy as a deep satisfaction in who God is and the relationship we get to enjoy with him through Christ. “Cease striving and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10a). When I am satisfied in God, I experience peace. Peace is a military term to describe a lack of conflict. Several years ago in an interview, I was asked to pick just one word to describe myself, and I chose “striving”, because there are so many things that I am striving after. And in some respects, I think that’s fine. I should be striving to know God more, striving to be a good friend and daughter, striving to live well this life which has been given to me. But there is rest in knowing God. There is no longer a need to prove myself, to accomplish something noteworthy. For there is nothing I can bring to the table that God stands in need of. Rather, Jesus Christ has brought himself to the table to fulfill my deepest need, and now I dine with my maker, an accepted heir.

            This last week, a friend sent me a link to an episode of the Truth Over Tribe podcast called “The Simple (but Surprising) Secret to a Happy Life”. And part of what they were discussing in it was a 50-year study Harvard did looking at what leads to greatest happiness. And what they found was that deep, warm relationships are they key.

            To me, this isn’t that surprising. I’m happiest simply to be with the people I love. But there is a little bit of a catch here. The reason I included this line – “There is life in building friendships” – is that you have to get out of bed to do so. Not just get out of bed but probably also leave the house. And when someone’s feeling down, that isn’t always what she wants to do. But it’s good for us.

            As much as I like to remind God of Genesis 2:18, where he says, “It is not good for the man to be alone”, in the context of my prayers for a spouse, I think likely the real point of this statement is that people need people. Yesterday, I was having kind of an off day – for no particular reason. Nothing was really wrong. And as it got towards evening, I was asking myself whether I really wanted to drive half an hour into a neighboring city to go swing dancing. But then I decided that not being around any people all day might not have been the greatest and that spending the evening alone as well would probably not make things better. So, off I went. And I’m glad I did. It was good for me. I got home around 10:30pm and then enjoyed another four hours of productivity. That’s not a sleep schedule recommendation, but after about six hours of sleep, I woke up refreshed and ready to face today.

            Anyway, I get that going out doesn’t always sound appealing. But I encourage you to give it a chance. Even if you don’t feel like you have anything to give that day, allow someone else to give to you. And you never know: it could be that when you leave your house, you encounter someone hurting worse than you are, and in showing him kindness and seeking to encourage him, you might also find yourself being built up.

            I know that people who are in the depths of depression are facing a bigger challenge than driving into a social event on an off day, but I think for that very reason, they need friends all the more. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Christians are called to share the sorrow of those who are sorrowing. So, don’t wait until you’re better to seek out friendship. Allow friendship to help you get better.

            Ecclesiastes isn’t usually where people turn for encouragement, but check out chapter 4, verses 9 and 10: “Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up.” You want to be walking alongside someone who can pull you up when you are drifting down that slippery slope of despair and self-pity and depression.

            Look up “one another statements in the Bible” sometime. We are instructed to love, honor, live in harmony with, stop passing judgement on, instruct, be kind and compassionate to, bear with, forgive, encourage, and be hospitable to one another. Doesn’t that sound life-giving? Friendships like that help me to thrive.

            “And being usefully employed”. I’m going to go back to Ecclesiastes for this one. Chapter 2, verse 24: “There is nothing better for a man than to eat and drink and tell himself that his labor is good.” This is what God made us for from the beginning. In Genesis 2, verse 15, before sin had entered the world, “the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to cultivate it and keep it.” And in Thessalonians 4:11, the New Testament saints are still being encouraged to “attend to [their] own business and work with [their] hands.”

            One of the most pernicious things about depression is how actively it fights against its own cure. I can’t. I’m not good enough. It’s too hard. What does it even matter?

            “Let us…lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:1b-2).

            It matters because God commands us to run after him. He doesn’t ask us to follow him because it’s easy but because it’s best. He knows that we’re not good enough. That’s why Jesus came into this world. You can run after him because his strength is made perfect in weakness.

          Your destiny is calling

You were made for days like these

          As you walk the way of discipline

Your soul is kindled and set free

            Rereading this now, it makes me think of the song “Born for This”, by Mandisa. The song is in reference to the life of Esther. She sits as the queen in Susa when the king’s second-in-command sets in motion a plot to destroy the Jews. And she’s scared to go to the king and ask for his favor for the protection of the Jews. If he doesn’t want to see her, she could be killed just for entering his throne room. And her uncle says to her, “Who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14b).

            God had a great plan for her life, but she had to take control of her self and boss herself around with the command to enter the king’s presence. Her people were saved as a result.

            We don’t all have destinies that look that spectacular from our limited human perspective. But I do wonder what they might look like if we were bold.

            Unless God had punished Esther in some frightful way for her lack of faith or courage, we probably wouldn’t even hear about her if she hadn’t pleaded with the king. She would have just been a beautiful woman who gained royalty for her good looks.

            Ephesians 2:10 says that we are “created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.” We don’t just happen to be living in this time we’re in. God has specific and detailed plans for our lives. He’s inviting us into his good work.

            “Commit your way to the Lord… / He will bring forth your righteousness as the light” (Psalm 37:5a, 6a). The discipline of surrender sets the fire within us.

            “It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1). “All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything” (1 Corinthians 6:12b). We are only free when we walk in discipline, when we say no to the things which master us to allow Christ alone to be our master.

          Fear not, then, at the mission

Which is laid upon your life

          Accept it in the confidence

That God will make the outcome right

            The Bible has a lot to say about not fearing. I’m not going to share all the verses with you, but if fear is tugging at your heartstrings, do a little research and reading. As I have, every verse I’ve come across has not only the command not to fear but also some extraordinary promise to give substance to the command. Just one as an example: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9). Wherever you go. God is with you.

            We don’t go forward in confidence because of how amazing we are. We go forward in confidence because God who is amazing goes with us.

            This command in Joshua comes after forty years of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness because when God first laid their mission upon them, they saw giants and fortified cities and were afraid.

            Do you know what the first victory was which the Israelites had after they crossed the Jordan River? It was Jericho.

            Maybe the Israelites felt exposed marching continuously around seemingly unbreachable walls. Maybe they felt like fools, going in circles around the city instead of trying to fight. But maybe by this time they felt grateful to God for his protection and provision. Maybe they remembered all he had done for them thus far and chose to believe that he would bring about an incredible and easy victory for them.

            God often asks us to sacrifice and suffer for his glory, but he is always blessing us beyond our sorrow, if only we have eyes open to see.

            The way of discipline is not easy, but it is beautiful. I think poems written based on scriptural truth inevitably end up sounding epic because God is continuously writing an epic that puts the Iliad and the Odyssey to shame. Will you walk the way of discipline? I want to.

The Way of Discipline

          When reality comes calling,

Will you meet it at the gate?

          Will you face it through the suffering

And bear with it through pain?

          Will you believe the God who called you

Still sustains you with his grace,

          That in each and every circumstance

He’s already made a way?

          This life is rarely easy

But the struggle makes us grow

          When we trust the God who made us

With the things we cannot know

          We find strength in persevering

We find peace in choosing joy

          There is life in building friendships

And being usefully employed

          Your destiny is calling

You were made for days like these

          As you walk the way of discipline

Your soul is kindled and set free

          Fear not, then, at the mission

Which is laid upon your life

          Accept it in the confidence

That God will make the outcome right

Tongues of Fire

          How brightly you light up the darkness!

Your voice is the splendor of beauty

          This is the heaven I wait for

Your glory unshrouded around me

          You speak and the shadows start fleeing

You are near and your spark fires my soul

          Like a moth to the flame of the candle

My inmost being is drawn to your pull

          But in you, it’s not death that awaits me

Your forge burns the dross from my life

          Made clean, I am fit to be used,

To be polished and reflect well your light

          I hear you; you hold me in radiance

Like the sun on a warm summer day

          Dimly, I glimpse your great glory

My eyes water in awe of the blaze

          One day I’ll see you so clearly

That the dark in my heart will be gone

          I will dance down the path of abundance

As I hear every note of eternity’s song

          Now you walk upon the water

And I come because you call

          The storm is gone, and I am safe

For your words encompass all

          I can hear you like the thunder

When the lightning cracks the clouds

          You are magnificent, my God

Your words of life are raining down

          So, what have I to fear of darkness?

Why should I fret when evil lurks?

          My Lamp goes ever with me

You make my footsteps sure

          Now I am chasing after heaven

With a Light that burns within

          You speak, and I am certain

You are the wreath I want to win

            This poem is actually one I wrote fairly recently, and I tried to go to sleep after the first two lines, as my eyelids kept drifting down, and I didn’t know what came next.

          How brightly you light up the darkness!

Your voice is the splendor of beauty

            That night, God had lit up my darkness again. This time, it wasn’t the darkness of my own sin – for the most part; rather, it was the darkness of a world that waits for redemption.

            I’d been having a hard conversation with some friends. One is not a believer, and the darkness in his heart had made me angry, where my response should have been compassion. Another is a believer, but her path was leading her out of the way of abundant life. And my heart was heavy. I was exhausted from the conversation of the evening, and I didn’t know what to pray. I felt helpless and burdened.

            But despite not knowing exactly what to pray, I prayed. And I sang. And I wanted to write a poem, since that often helps me process difficult thoughts and emotions. But I hadn’t expected to write one like this. I thought I might write one handing my burdens over to God for him to bear them for me.

            And then I wrote:

          How brightly you light up the darkness!

Your voice is the splendor of beauty

            Because I found this beautiful gift of grateful joy placed before me. The Spirit of the living God dwells within me, and he changes me. This was no longer to be a poem of handing over my burdens. It was instead to be a celebration of the God who burns away the darkness which otherwise burdens my heart.

            1 John 1:5b says, “God is Light, and in Him there is no darkness at all.” And likewise, Jesus says in John 12:46, “I have come as Light into the world, so that everyone who believes in Me will not remain in darkness.” And this is beautiful to me. What words could there be to follow? I lay down and closed my eyes.

            But probably half an hour to an hour later, I was wide awake again, so I turned on my bedside lamp, propped my pillows behind my back, and took up my pen and notebook once more to write:

          This is the heaven I wait for

Your glory unshrouded around me

            If you’ve been listening to the other episodes of this podcast, then you’ve already heard me quote from Revelation about how one day there will be no need of sun or moon because the glory of God will illumine the world (chapter 21, verse 23). And that’s part of what I’m talking about here. Heaven. The new earth. Their splendor will be the glory of God.

            In Exodus 33, Moses asks to see the glory of God, and he’s told that “no man can see [God] and live!” (verse 20), but in Daniel 7 and Revelation 4, we get to glimpse what God’s unshrouded glory is like. In Daniel 7, verses 9 and 10: “the Ancient of Days took His seat; / His vesture was like white snow / And the hair of His head like pure wool. / His throne was ablaze with flames, / Its wheels were a burning fire. / A river of fire was flowing / And coming out from before Him”. And in Revelation 4:5: “Out from the throne come flashes of lightning and sounds and peals of thunder.”

            I have the feeling that mere words are inadequate to describe the glory of God, but this glimpse is awe-inspiring enough for me to be confident that when we see him as he is, we will be transfixed and transfigured by the light. That’s what makes heaven so spectacular.

          You speak and the shadows start fleeing

You are near and your spark fires my soul

          Like a moth to the flame of the candle

My inmost being is drawn to your pull

          When God speaks, there is no room for darkness. His blaze kindles my soul. And this makes me think of one of the standby backgrounds of my original Amazon Kindle. It showed a boy reading beneath a tree, and overlaid on the ground was the definition of kindle: “light or set on fire. arouse or inspire (an emotion or feeling).” This is what God does within me. He sets me to burn as a light that imitates his light. He inspires me with gratitude and desire for righteousness and purity. And all that is within me is drawn to who he is. I desire him whatever the cost.

          But in you, it’s not death that awaits me

Your forge burns the dross from my life

          Made clean, I am fit to be used,

To be polished and reflect well your light

          The flame will kill the moth. Have you seen the myriads of bugs die on a hot exterior light in the summertime? But God’s flame purifies. The Bible actually has quite a lot to say about God’s work in refining us, but I’ll share just a couple verses:

Isaiah 1:25: “I…will smelt away your dross as with lye / And will remove all your alloy.”

Job 23:10b: “When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

          When metal is melted, solid impurities called dross float to the top to be skimmed off. Imagine if a gold wedding band had spots of porous debris marring its finish, it wouldn’t be suitable for its purpose. It wouldn’t show forth the beauty, purity, and value it’s meant to represent. It wouldn’t shine with the glossy sheen we expect of pure gold.

          God wants us to be fit for his purposes, so he tests us. He turns up the heat in our lives so he can skim off the ick that prevents us from reflecting his glory.

          I hear you; you hold me in radiance

Like the sun on a warm summer day

          Dimly, I glimpse your great glory

My eyes water in awe of the blaze

            When I hear the voice of God, it holds my attention; he holds my attention.

            There have been some days lately when I’ve been outside writing under a tree in the shade and gotten up to grab something from indoors, only to be arrested by the warmth of the sun. In these moments, I sometimes lay down on the grass and bask for a few moments in the glow of the sunlight, absorbing its radiant warmth.

            And this is my experience of resting in the presence of God. His light is a radiant warmth that makes me wish just to stay there – not to return to the hustle and bustle of the world but just to remain in the stillness of my moments or minutes or hours with him.

            Like Moses watching the back of God pass by, I’m only catching a glimpse now of the Lord’s splendor, but I am in awe as I try to comprehend what it must be like when I see as Daniel saw, as John saw.

          One day I’ll see you so clearly

That the dark in my heart will be gone

          I will dance down the path of abundance

As I hear every note of eternity’s song

            I think of Isaiah, crying out in Isaiah 6:5, “Woe is me, for I am ruined! / Because I am a man of unclean lips, / And I live among a people of unclean lips; / For my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.” And a seraphim touches his lips with a coal from the altar in God’s throne room and says, “Behold, this has touched your lips; and your iniquity is taken away and your sin is forgiven” (verse 7). God’s coal, his fire, his light, will burn all the darkness out of my heart. That is at least a part of what it is to be like him when we see him as he is (1 John 3:2).

            And I’m still stuck on that abundant life. I love to dance on this earth, but when I dance on the new earth, I will dance in life to the fullest. My heartbeats will keep time with God’s heartbeats. The music of eternity is music of peace and completeness, indescribable beauty and joy.

          Now you walk upon the water

And I come because you call

          The storm is gone, and I am safe

For your words encompass all

            The storm is raging, and I don’t see the way out, and then, there is Jesus! And he says to me, “Come!” (Matthew 14:29). And if my footsteps falter, he catches me to lift me up. And then the storm is gone. The one who spoke the world into existence speaks the words which bear me up.

          I can hear you like the thunder

When the lightning cracks the clouds

          You are magnificent, my God

Your words of life are raining down

            According to the National Weather Service, the air around a flash of lightning can heat up to as high as 50,000°F, five times hotter than the surface of the sun. Since air is a gas, it expands rapidly with the change in temperature. But as the flash of lightning passes, the air cools and contracts rapidly as well. The result? A massive sound wave that we hear as thunder. Does this sound a little bit like Revelation 4:5? “Out from the throne come flashes of lightning and sounds and peals of thunder.”

            God lights up our world and is heard as thunder. Magnificent: “impressively beautiful, elaborate, or extravagant; striking”, according to Oxford Languages. Is there anything in all creation which deserves this adjective more than the creator?

            Hebrews 6 talks about being “partakers of the Holy Spirit” and tasting the “good word of God” (verses 4 and 5) and then makes the analogy: “For ground that drinks the rain which often falls on it and brings forth vegetation useful to those for whose sake it is also tilled, receives a blessing from God” (verse 7). God is raining down life, his blessings, upon us.

          So, what have I to fear of darkness?

Why should I fret when evil lurks?

          My Lamp goes ever with me

You make my footsteps sure

            Psalm 37:5-11 says:

“Commit your way to the Lord,

Trust also in Him, and He will do it.

He will bring forth your righteousness as the light

And your judgment as the noonday.

Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him;

Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way,

Because of the man who carries out wicked schemes.

Cease from anger and forsake wrath;

Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing.

For evildoers will be cut off,

But those who wait for the Lord, they will inherit the land.

Yet a little while and the wicked man will be no more;

And you will look carefully for his place and he will not be there.

But the humble will inherit the land

And will delight themselves in abundant prosperity.”

I had been fretting because of wickedness, but here God reminds me not to. I can trust him. He will bring about justice. Here again is the promise of abundance found walking in his way.

Psalm 119:105: “Your word is a lamp to my feet / And a light to my path.”

Proverbs 3:5-6: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart / And do not lean on your own understanding. / In all your ways acknowledge Him, / And He will make your paths straight.”

As I walk with my maker, he is my light. He makes straight paths for my feet. When I trust in him, I walk in a good way.

          Now I am chasing after heaven

With a Light that burns within

          You speak, and I am certain

You are the wreath I want to win

            This is a poem that is all about the voice of God speaking and the light that is his very nature, which burns away the darkness, which burns away the dross, which lights my path when I trust in him and his promises.

            Paul instructs in 1 Corinthians 9:24-25, “Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable.”

            I want that prize, the prize of being in the presence of God for all eternity. He has set his light within me, and I want his light always before me.

            And then there’s the title: “Tongues of Fire”.

            To some extent, this is a play on words. “Tongues” in reference to speech and “Fire” in reference to light. But of course it’s also “Tongues” as in the flames of a blaze, a “Fire”. And it’s a nod to Pentecost as well, when God started pouring out his Spirit on all who trusted in him. “And there appeared to them tongues as of fire distributing themselves, and they rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:3-4a).

            I am in awe of the awesome creator God, and I hope you are too. “The people who walk in darkness / Will see a great light” (Isaiah 9:2a), and that light has now come to us. Enter in.

Tongues of Fire

          How brightly you light up the darkness!

Your voice is the splendor of beauty

          This is the heaven I wait for

Your glory unshrouded around me

          You speak and the shadows start fleeing

You are near and your spark fires my soul

          Like a moth to the flame of the candle

My inmost being is drawn to your pull

          But in you, it’s not death that awaits me

Your forge burns the dross from my life

          Made clean, I am fit to be used,

To be polished and reflect well your light

          I hear you; you hold me in radiance

Like the sun on a warm summer day

          Dimly, I glimpse your great glory

My eyes water in awe of the blaze

          One day I’ll see you so clearly

That the dark in my heart will be gone

          I will dance down the path of abundance

As I hear every note of eternity’s song

          Now you walk upon the water

And I come because you call

          The storm is gone, and I am safe

For your words encompass all

          I can hear you like the thunder

When the lightning cracks the clouds

          You are magnificent, my God

Your words of life are raining down

          So, what have I to fear of darkness?

Why should I fret when evil lurks?

          My Lamp goes ever with me

You make my footsteps sure

          Now I am chasing after heaven

With a Light that burns within

          You speak, and I am certain

You are the wreath I want to win

Lake of the Clouds

          The sunshine of a thousand summers

Played upon its face

          While the clouds dashed and dove up in the sky

In a never-ending chase

          How they love to touch the water

And drink deep what they have fed

          Yet only in the fog may they

Find their rest in river’s bed

          But the river loves the sunshine

And yields always to the clouds

          ’Til once more it falls as raindrops

With a sad and mournful sound

          Higher soar the clouds once more,

Lightened of their load,

          Free again to chase the water

Down its winding, rippling road

            Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? A blue lake gilded with dancing sunlight. Misty mornings where the clouds settle over it in fog. A river flowing into the lake and puffy white cumulus clouds forming over it as they lure upwards the water droplets. Summer storms replenishing the lake and river below. Clouds drifting higher and being shepherded by the atmospheric winds.

            It was beautiful, but little did I know what further adventures awaited me.

            If you’re a Michigander, the title, “Lake of the Clouds”, may have sounded familiar to you. It’s one of the many lovely sights to be seen in the Porcupine Mountains, the 60,000 acre wilderness state park located in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

            Despite Michigan Tech being only about an hour and fifteen minutes away from the Porcupine Mountains, I never made it over there in the three years I spent at Tech. It wasn’t until my first return to Houghton post-college that I got to make the Porkies’ acquaintance.

            That week had already been an eventful one. I had traveled back up to Houghton to spend time with a family I knew through my church. (Some friendships are too good to let five hundred miles or so get in the way.)

            And since I’d been there, we had chased down a flying squirrel who had inveigled his way into the basement, built a working telegraph system, and used teamwork and leverage to clear some boulders out of the “Dragon Swamp” so it could be repurposed in the winter as an ice rink.

            But as it turned out, those were all tame little experiences next to what lay ahead.

            For the sake of the privacy of my adventuring companions, I’m going to use fictitious names for the retelling of this story. As such, our cast of characters will be Jayne and her three children, James (10), Bella (8), and Meg (6). Though he features only slightly in the story, Jayne’s husband will be referred to as Alan.

            Anyway, my friend Jayne had asked if there were any particular adventure I thought it might be fun to go on all together while I was up. And I told her about my wish to see the Porcupine Mountains. So, on Friday, after they wrapped up the bare minimum homeschooling requirements for the day, we packed sack lunches and hopped in the car to drive out to Ontonagon.

            The first stop was the Visitor Center, where we examined a large topographical map with buttons to light up the points of interest. It was an easy decision to walk the Escarpment Trail down to where it overlooks the Lake of the Clouds, but the next part of our plan is what eventually got us into trouble.

            You see, from the parking lot we intended to start at, our hike to the Lake of the Clouds viewing platform would be about four miles. Looking at the trails on the map, our two return options seemed to be either simply turning around and returning the same way we’d come or to take a return loop which would make our return trip about a ten mile hike. That seemed like it could be a bit much for Meg, who was only six at the time, so that’s when my crazy, adventurous side came up with the notion that we could follow the lake around to the other side of the river and take the river back to where it met up with the trail. Following the water, there shouldn’t be any way for us to get lost, and our return hike would be about the same length as the Escarpment Trail. Ten-year-old James thought this sounded like a great plan, and Jayne being a believer in the best adventures not involving backtracking, she agreed as well.

            So, we drove along to our departure point, ate our lunches, and set out on our hike. The kids each had a small day pack with books and water bottles. Jayne had her camera bag. We all wore light jackets to suit the chill of a damp October morning.

            But as we hiked, we soon warmed up and were stashing our jackets in bags or tying them around our waists. The forest floor was thickly carpeted with crisp, colorful autumn leaves. Six-month puppy, Murphy, sniffed about in his element. And after a little while, Meg requested a story, and I made up an assortment of silly or imaginative tales as we trekked along.

            When we came out on a rocky outcropping overlooking the river, we also had our first glimpse of the Lake of the Clouds. Jayne and the kids snacked on pretzels and chocolate covered almonds while I started writing the lines of the title poem on the free space around the edges of the folded up trail map I carried in my pocket.

            Back on the trail, James and I found the right sort of sticks to use as swords and became engaged in a lively duel, dashing into the trees on either side of the trail and back out again. But as we approached the viewing platform for the Lake of the Clouds, our duel ended as the trail grew more populated.

            After admiring the view out over the water, we made a brief pitstop before our real adventure began.

            The first part of our hike around the lake was on a boardwalk, and then the narrower, but still easily visible, trail that curved between the lake and a handful of rustic campsites. So far, so good.

            Not long afterwards, we reached a little peninsula which poked out into the lake and stopped to check on our progress. We were about halfway around the backside of the lake but not yet discouraged. We still had daylight and were making steady headway. After letting Murphy run around like a crazy thing, we continued on with him off-leash.

            And now, there was no trail; we were bushwhacking our way through the trees and tangled undergrowth. James and Bella took turns leading the way for a while, but Meg was growing tired, and Jayne took her by the hand. Around the time we reached the end of the lake, we took a break on a large, fallen log to share a snack of pretzels and chocolate-covered almonds and took a few sips of water. Jayne’s watch told us it was 5:30, so we only had a couple hours left until dark. We needed to pick up the pace.

            Now I took the lead and we tried to follow the river. Jayne took Meg up on her back.

            But what the map in my pocket and the larger one at the visitor center hadn’t told us was that the ground on either side of the river was a wide marsh. I tried to pick firm ground, aiming for tussocks of reeds, but with his shorter stride, James soon fell knee-deep into the brackish water with Bella going in soon after. Now I had Meg on my back, and we went down as well. Ever the voice of common sense, Jayne suggested we move away from the river back to firmer ground.

          At this point, we stopped to pray, and as Jayne picked up Meg once more, I tried my best to lead us along the river, but the many small offshoots and my abysmal sense of direction were making it quite the challenge. When Bella said, “This looks familiar. Have we been here before?” I felt like giving up. I looked towards the sunset, figuring due opposite would be the easterly direction we wanted to travel.

          Then, James asked, “I have my compass. Would that help?” We all shouted, “Yes!” and felt a faint spark of hope, but by then, we only had about half an hour until complete darkness. We doggedly pressed on, but following the compass east took us back into the marshes, and our progress continued to be slow.

          In the deepening dusk, we blew the emergency whistle James had brought, yelled for help, prayed again, and tried calling 911. But neither Jayne’s nor my cell phone had signal.

          I didn’t tell anyone when I dropped the compass, but as I said another prayer, God answered, and my hand grasped it in the gathering darkness. In the last hints of daylight, Jayne led us to a large tree on slightly raised ground, and we hunkered down for the night.

          We were cold and wet and scared and concerned about not being able to update Alan on our situation.

          Jayne helped the kids get their feet out of wet socks and shoes and tucked into their dry backpacks. We huddled together and tried to sing praise songs through our chattering teeth – “Days of Elijah”, “Lord, I Need You”, “Amazing Grace” – but it turns out it’s hard to remember lyrics when you’re shaking from cold. But we did pretty well with “10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord)”. We prayed again.

          Eventually, Meg was on my lap and Bella on Jayne’s. Murphy had his head over James’s shoulder. And we were marginally warmer. I kept wiggling my toes, trying to reassure myself that they still had feeling and that I wasn’t getting frostbite. We listened to a coyote howl, stared up at the stars, and were grateful it wasn’t raining.

          I don’t remember whose idea it was to pass the time with stories, but I told as much of Laddie, by Gene Stratton-Porter, as I could remember, touched on the part of Arabella, by Georgette Heyer, that I could remember at the time, and then plunged into a pretty exhaustive account of Disney’s Mary Poppins. Maybe there is some value to rewatching well-loved movies umpteen times…

          It was a miserable night with not much sleep for any of us. I spent a long time hoping it was at least 10:00 and then what felt like forever later, hoping it was at least midnight. But I spent most of the time hoping we could have at least made it to 2:00. Jayne’s watch didn’t have a light, and we were trying not to drain the phone batteries, so we had no idea what time it really was. When I thought I heard a sound come from the camera bag, I fished out my phone, hoping one of our texts had gone through with some brief bit of signal. That hope wasn’t encouraged, but we did learn it was 5:45. In another hour or so, some daylight should start creeping through the trees.

          As the first grayness came, Jayne started working on getting socks and shoes back on the kids, and Meg requested another story. This time, I told “Billy Goat’s Gruff”, a tale my grandma had regaled me with as a kid.

          At last, enough light had arrived to continue our trek. My legs weren’t really working, so I grabbed the branch above me to hoist myself up and took the lead again, with Bella and James behind me, and Jayne carrying Meg at the rear. I hobbled off, in pain and muscles spasming, while James and Bella declared emphatically that they were never coming back or ever bringing their kids there. Meg had to hold on tight to Jayne’s back, since we all needed our hands to clear the tall reeds from before our faces.

          After an hour, Jayne’s Garmin Vivofit informed us that we had only gone 0.3 miles, and she asked me to get us out of the marsh and back onto dry ground.

          We should have done that much sooner!

          Now, James’s tears dried up. He started chattering happily, eating pretzels, and feeding some to the dog as well. His new plans for the Porkies involved coming back and bringing tents. And it was wonderful having firm ground to walk on without any puddles to fall into.

          At one point, a helicopter flew overhead. But though we ran into a clearing and waved our arms and tried flashing a mirror in the sunlight – also from James’s handy tin which had held the compass and whistle – the helicopter didn’t see us. We waited a bit and then hiked on.

          God providently provided a large enough fallen tree for even Murphy to cross over one of the larger river offshoots, and not long afterwards, we reached the actual trail! A blue square of metal was poking out of a tree, and a real bridge crossed over the river. The trail map informed us that we only had about a mile more to go.

          We trudged on until we were within sight of the car, and then a man with a German shepherd – mostly likely a DNR officer – asked if we were the people they were looking for. We confirmed, and then Alan was running up the trail to bring his family into a big group hug. I stood miserably off to one side, holding Murphy’s leash and thinking that this was a sad end to a delightful friendship. Then, Alan invited me into the hug as well, and I figured this was just until he found out that this whole misadventure was my dumb idea.

          We turned down the medical attention offered by the police officers. The kids gobbled down some snacks their grandma had sent with Alan when he headed off in search of his missing family. And then we drove back to Houghton.

          A hot shower never felt so good. The swamp water smelled terrible, and I was uncomfortable enough that I hadn’t even known a fair size stick was in my pants until I was undressing for my shower.

          We all got into sweats or pajamas and snuggled under blankets to doze and chat and watch some episodes of I Love Lucy and Tangled. Alan had ordered pizza, and now that we were warm and dry, we were hungry enough to do it justice.

          Jayne offered to send me to bed with a wet towel to wrap around my feet to relive our experience of the preceding night, but I had no trouble turning her down.

          As it turned out, our disastrous hike did not put an end to our friendship but has become instead a story to laugh and cringe over. Though Jayne and I agree that if we had stayed out of the swamp and known about the compass from the outset, our plan would have worked, Alan has forbidden us to ever go off trail hiking together again.

          So, yes, the Lake of the Clouds is lovely, but to me, this poem will always conjure up images of a much more intimate interaction with the wilds of the Porkies.

            If you’re ever in the U.P., I recommend stopping by. But for your sake, I hope you have the wisdom to stay on the trail.

Lake of the Clouds

          The sunshine of a thousand summers

Played upon its face

          While the clouds dashed and dove up in the sky

In a never-ending chase

          How they love to touch the water

And drink deep what they have fed

          Yet only in the fog may they

Find their rest in river’s bed

          But the river loves the sunshine

And yields always to the clouds

          ’Til once more it falls as raindrops

With a sad and mournful sound

          Higher soar the clouds once more,

Lightened of their load,

          Free again to chase the water

Down its winding, rippling road

Steadfast

          I picture it this moment

As I look into your eyes

          And what I could never comprehend

This moment makes me realize

          You see everything about me

All my sin, but leave no shame

          True humility I finally know

But you give me my new name

          And in your tender, steadfast gaze

Is love, your love; you’re love

          I am overwhelmed by mercy

I am carried by your grace

          I can never wrest my gaze

From your beautiful, kind face

          Suddenly I know the thing

I have grasped at all my life

          I am fully known and fully loved

As I’m transfigured by the Light

          Not enough – will language change

To praise you as you’re due?

          My words cannot describe your love

I stand in awe, embraced by you

            Have you ever seen the painting Prince of Peace or Jesus, by Akiane Kramarik? Now a young a woman, she painted Prince of Peace at the age of eight, referencing inspiration from the face she saw repeatedly in her dreams. I don’t know if either of them were actually inspired by God or not, but they are my favorite portrayals of Jesus. They show him in his humanity, serious but kind, manly and compassionate. Here, he is shown with nobility yet also in the humility he displayed in coming as a man to the world which he, being God, spoke into existence.

            And this poem isn’t really about Akiane Kramarik’s paintings, but it might be easier to relate to if you have a vision of Jesus in your mind like that rather than the various pictures where he appears weak, effeminate, distant, or cavalier.

            This poem is about grace – unmerited favor.

            I’ve had this struggle all my life of chasing after perfection and falling short. I’ve joined with Paul in saying, “Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as are perfect, have this attitude; and if in anything you have a different attitude, God will reveal that also to you; however, let us keep living by that same standard to which we have attained” (Philippians 3:12-16), but I’ve also found myself wrestling with the struggle of Romans 7:14-25:

_{For we know that the Law is spiritual, but I am of flesh, sold into bondage to sin. For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate. But if I do the very thing I do not want to do, I agree with the Law, confessing that the Law is good. So now, no longer am I the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. But if I am doing the very thing I do not want, I am no longer the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me.}

_{I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, on the one hand I myself with my mind am serving the law of God, but on the other, with my flesh the law of sin.}

Are you surprised at the next verse? “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”

            Why is there no condemnation for me, the wretched woman that I am, the one in whom evil is present? Check out the next few verses: “the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. For what the Law could not do, weak as it was through the flesh, God did: sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and as an offering for sin, He condemned sin in the flesh, so that the requirement of the Law might be fulfilled in us, who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.”

            I understand justice. Think about how young little children are when they start exclaiming, “That’s not fair!” That judgment should fall on me for falling short of the perfect standard of the perfect God makes sense. But mercy – that the perfect God should withhold the punishment I deserve – that’s rather mind-boggling, isn’t it? What if God stopped at mercy? What if he just said that I wouldn’t experience the suffering and torment of hell, that at the end of my natural life, I would simple cease to be? That would be a relief, but there is still such hopeless sadness in my end state. But grace – this is where the limitless God pours out blessings and offers the gift of abundant life here on this earth and eternal life made right in his presence on the new earth, remade.

            Now, as I read these verses from Romans, it’s so clear to me that I continually need grace and that God continues to offer it. But it used to be that as I chased after the Philippians standard of perfection, I continued to live under the guilt of my sin and shortcomings. And I don’t know how many times different people encouraged me to give myself grace, to accept God’s grace. And my comeback was often Romans 6:1-2a: “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin so that grace may increase? May it never be!”

            I was missing the point. Accepting grace is not carte blanche to walk in sin. It’s not really even saying that sin is in the least bit okay. Accepting grace is taking hold of God’s hand to be lifted up again to walk in righteousness.

            When I fall short of God’s standard, which I daily do, I grow discouraged. The farther I fall short, the more I feel that I’ve failed beyond hope of redemption. But God offers me grace so that when I fall, he will pick me back up again.

            But the realization of this poem was a big turning point for me in walking in grace. I had this vision of – and I’m not saying I was caught up to the third heaven like Paul, but I saw in my mind’s eye – the moment that I stand in the presence of Jesus.

          I picture it this moment

As I look into your eyes

          And what I could never comprehend

This moment makes me realize

          You see everything about me

All my sin, but leave no shame

          True humility I finally know

But you give me my new name

            It is incredibly humbling to be fully known by the perfect creator God. That day, what I saw was looking into the eyes of Jesus and being known in all that I am. And the thing that took my breath away was that there was no shame, not because I was unconscious of the gravity of my sin but because of the fathomlessly deep, compassionate love of Christ. I was known! In my weakness, failure, selfishness, I was known. And yet, I was loved! I was loved as his dear creation, redeemed child.

            I write this in the past tense because it was a specific moment in my life, but I rejoice in the present because this is still what I wait for.

            In Revelation 2:17, Jesus says, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, to him I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it.” And 1 John 5:5 expounds, “Who is the one who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?”

            When God renames someone, he is defining who she is. And when I see Jesus, I will forever afterward be fully defined by his name for me.

          And in your tender, steadfast gaze

Is love, your love; you’re love

          I am overwhelmed by mercy

I am carried by your grace

          I can never wrest my gaze

From your beautiful, kind face

            If you read through the gospels, you might notice that they frequently say Jesus “had compassion” or was “moved with compassion”. 1 John 4:8 says, “God is love,” and in the moments I see clearly enough to substantively grasp the enormity of my sin, I am overwhelmed by the vastness of God’s mercy and comforted by the generosity of his grace.

            Sunflowers turn their faces towards the sun continuously as it arcs across the sky. And I think I’m going to do the same in the re-creation when the glory of God is my light. I’m practicing now while I’m still on this earth.

          Suddenly I know the thing

I have grasped at all my life

          I am fully known and fully loved

As I’m transfigured by the Light

            I can’t get over 1 John 3:2: “Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is.”

            This moment when I look into the eyes of Jesus is the last time sin will have a place in my heart or my mind or my life. Jesus has always seen me fully as I am and loved me, even as I have been tainted by sin. But when I see him fully as he is, I will no longer be tainted by sin, and I will at last love him as he is worthy of being loved.

          Not enough – will language change

To praise you as you’re due?

          My words cannot describe your love

I stand in awe, embraced by you

            I love language. I read and I write and I speak with the words I have now and seek to make them beautiful, to craft them in such a way that they might capture the meaning and emotion and intent of my thoughts and my heart. But it’s so inadequate when I try to put words to the glory of my God. And I don’t know if before Babel language was perfect enough to do justice to the complexity of the human experience. Maybe even now, if I knew all the languages the world over, I would be able to describe what I have glimpsed of the greatness of my God. I hope – and believe – that in heaven and on the new earth words will become adequate to praise God as he is due. Right now, I don’t have the words. But I stand in awe, amazed at this breath-giving, breath-taking God. And he embraces me. The hands that took the nails of my punishment are the same ones which hold me close to his heart.

            This is grace. This is love. He is the heaven I wait for.

Steadfast

          I picture it this moment

As I look into your eyes

          And what I could never comprehend

This moment makes me realize

          You see everything about me

All my sin, but leave no shame

          True humility I finally know

But you give me my new name

          And in your tender, steadfast gaze

Is love, your love; you’re love

          I am overwhelmed by mercy

I am carried by your grace

          I can never wrest my gaze

From your beautiful, kind face

          Suddenly I know the thing

I have grasped at all my life

          I am fully known and fully loved

As I’m transfigured by the Light

          Not enough – will language change

To praise you as you’re due?

          My words cannot describe your love

I stand in awe, embraced by you

‍

Planted

          My roots are planted in Christ Jesus

I’m reaching upward towards the Son

          I draw in truth, the living Word

And grow in him, the holy one

          My trunk is well-supported

For my foundation is the best

          My integrity is proven

As he lets me face life’s tests

          My branches spread beneath the heavens

In supplication and in praise

          I have all I’ve ever needed,

Drinking in his golden rays

          So as he prunes me, I am bearing

Fruit to sow his mighty seed

          I am growing in his forest

Of the souls that love has freed

            This poem is one I actually wrote for a school assignment. It just so happens that I was a few years out of school at the time I wrote it…and it wasn’t actually assigned to me.

            If you spend much time on this podcast, you’ve probably noticed that friends of mine come up in it a lot. Sometimes, the poems or stories I’ve written have been specifically written for one or more of them. Sometimes, they’re the ones who got me thinking about the idea I’ve captured in a poem. And sometimes, they’ve played a part in shaping my views on whatever topic I’m discussing that day.

            Well, in one family I’m friends with, the kids were homeschooled from first grade up through middle school, and one day, the girls were assigned the task of each writing a poem about roots. And in a similar way to how I’ve several times read a book or series because their family was reading it together, I decided to tackle this writing assignment as well. After all, it’s fun to share life experiences, and it’s usually pretty easy to convince me to write a poem. Plus, it just so happened that at the time, I was studying in Colossians. So, as I got into chapter two and read verses six and seven – “Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude.” – I knew that’s where my poem had to start.

            The picture that comes into my mind is that of the album cover for Thrive, by Casting Crowns. There you see not only a beautifully shaped, lusciously green tree spreading its branches towards the sky, but also the deep and intricately vast network of roots which support the foliage. This is me – the roots of my soul entwined with the person, character, and identity of Christ so that the branches of my life display and exalt his glory.

            One more comment before we really dive in: I had a conversation with someone a couple months ago about how God’s analogies/metaphors/similes only become richer the more closely we examine them. And as I consider this poem and the scripture it draws from, I become all the more convinced of that truth.

          My roots are planted in Christ Jesus

I’m reaching upward towards the Son

          I draw in truth, the living Word

And grow in him, the holy one

            Often, English gets a bad rap for being a language which is entirely inconsistent and confusing, where one spelling can be pronounced several different ways or two different spellings can be pronounced the exact same way. And being a native English speaker, this doesn’t generally cause me too much grief. To the contrary, sometimes it’s actually quite fun. “Reaching upward towards the Son”. Son, S-O-N. Jesus is the son of God. Or sun, S-U-N. Plants grow upwards towards the sun because it’s critical to their life.

            Cool, right?

            A tree takes carbon dioxide from the air – convenient that we breathe that out, isn’t it?, water from the ground, and energy from the sun (spell that whichever way you like) to produce the carbohydrates which are their food. So, they reach up as high as they can grow, spread out as far as they have room, to absorb as much sunlight as they can manage.

            We lift up our hands in the same recognition of neediness. In Psalm 28, verse 2, David pleads, “Hear the voice of my supplications when I cry to You for help, / When I lift up my hands toward Your holy sanctuary.” The tree lifts up its branches asking for photons from the S-U-N sun. We lift up our hands asking for provision from the S-O-N Son.

            The tree waits for the rain to fall from heaven for it to draw the water up through its roots and eventually into its chlorophyll-laden leaves. It’s like the woman at the well who had to keep going back day by day to draw water. And then Jesus tells her, “whoever drinks of the water that I will give him shall never thirst; but the water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up to eternal life” (John 4:14). We don’t have to wait for the rain like the tree because the water for our souls springs up within us eternally when we place our faith in Christ, the truth, the Word. John 1:1, 4: “the Word of God…In Him was life”. 1 John 1:1: “the Word of Life”. John 14:6: “the way, and the truth, and the life”. This living water brings about growth. “We are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, even Christ,” who “causes the growth of the body for the building up of itself in love” (Ephesians 4:15, 16). The tree is growing towards the sunlight, and the light of the Son is growing in us.

          My trunk is well-supported

For my foundation is the best

          My integrity is proven

As he lets me face life’s tests

            Several years ago, there were some terrible windstorms in the area where I grew up, and there were pine trees in my grandpa’s yard which were so badly battered by the wind that they were uprooted. And these weren’t little saplings. They were trees which had stood tall for all my life and I don’t even know how many years before. But after the storm, the trees lay out flat on the lawn with roots bare to the elements.

            That isn’t the kind of foundation we have in Christ.

            Jesus says in Matthew 7:24-27, “Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock. Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell—and great was its fall.” Jesus is frequently described in scripture as a stone or a precious cornerstone. God is often referenced as the rock.

            Maybe at some point you’ve seen a tree growing on a rocky outcropping with its roots wrapped around stone in a way you didn’t think could support life. But somehow it did.

            Now picture instead if the roots of the tree grew into the rock as though it were fertile soil. And then remember that this rock is also living water. The tree will not whither. Though the branches shake, the storm will never uproot it.

            This is a mystery. But then, the Bible has a lot to say about the mystery of God’s will. We serve a mighty and imaginative, unlimited God.

            Integrity. Take a look at Oxford Languages. Sense 2: “the state of being whole and undivided”, sub-definition: “the condition of being unified, unimpaired, or sound in construction.” This tree is sturdy and solid. Sense 1: “the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles; moral uprightness.” This soul is intact and functioning within the good intention of its creator.

From 1 Peter 1:6, 7: “now for a little while…you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith…may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

          My branches spread beneath the heavens

In supplication and in praise

          I have all I’ve ever needed,

Drinking in his golden rays

            We talked about our spreading branches – hands upraised to our creator. This is indeed an act of supplication and one of praise.

Lamentations 3:40-42b:

“Let us examine and probe our ways,

And let us return to the Lord.

We lift up our heart and hands

Toward God in heaven;

We have transgressed and rebelled,”

‍

Psalm 63:2-4:

“Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary,

To see Your power and Your glory.

Because Your lovingkindness is better than life,

My lips will praise You.

So I will bless You as long as I live;

I will lift up my hands in Your name.”

‍

Psalm 119:48:

“And I shall lift up my hands to Your commandments,

Which I love;

And I will meditate on Your statutes.”

‍

            God is the sole provider of all we have ever needed. Back to Colossians 2, where we started, Paul writes of Jesus in verse 10, “in Him you have been made complete”.

            Completeness, satisfaction, fulfillment. No holes, no emptiness, no inadequacy. Can you imagine a tree that beautiful? Think about the expert caretaker trimming a beloved bonsai tree. When God finishes his trimming, we will be lovely to behold. And he promises us in Philippians 1:6 that he will complete that good work within us.

          So as he prunes me, I am bearing

Fruit to sow his mighty seed

          I am growing in his forest

Of the souls that love has freed

            Take a look at John 15:1-11. I’m not going to read you the whole thing, but I want you to get the gist of it. From verses 1 and 2: “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me …that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.”

            I have to admit: I had a somewhat hazy idea going into this episode of exactly how pruning plants is supposed to work. So, I’m indebted to Dr. Sharon Douglas and her article, “Pruning: An Introduction to Why, How, and When” on Connecticut’s Official State Website. The two reasons that perfectly parallel the work God is doing in us?

1.       “Maintain Plant Health and Aesthetics:

·        This involves removal of dead, diseased, or injured plant parts. Removal of these weak parts helps to minimize the potential for secondary or opportunistic pests.

·        It also helps to maximize the aesthetic qualities and overall vigor of the shrub or tree.”

2.       “Encourage Flower and Fruit Production:

·        This involves pruning to maximize flowering and fruit production.

·        This usually involves pruning to open up the canopy in order to allow more light to penetrate. This stimulates the formation of flower buds.”

God is cutting out the sin and guilt and shame and condemnation – all the weights that bear us down and drain our souls and give that pest of a Devil a foothold in our lives. He is cutting those out to make our lives more beautiful to behold and to create more space for his light to penetrate our hearts and foster the kind of fruit production he desires. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22b-23a).

            Trees produce fruit in order to reproduce. They are scattering seed so that more like them may also grow in this world. God has the same intention for us. He tells us to “Let [our] light shine before men in such a way that they may see [our] good works, and glorify [our] Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

            But it’s special for us, just for mankind, that the Son sets us free. Romans 8 talks about creation groaning under its slavery to corruption and the hope that it one day will also be set free. We get to experience that freedom right now. There is still a war of flesh against spirit, but it’s in the completed past tense that Galatians 5:1 says, “It was for freedom that Christ set us free”. Like Isaac, we “are children of promise” (Galatians 4:28).

            How many millions or billions of souls do you suppose are “growing in his forest / Of the souls that love has freed”?

            I am amazed by this gift. As Colossians 2:7 says, I am “overflowing with gratitude”. And I marvel at all that God is growing. Awesome as it is that he is growing souls, he is also growing trees and all sorts of other plants and animals and creepy crawly things and probably other things so tiny we still haven’t discovered them.

            Do you suppose there was ever another carpenter anywhere near as good at gardening as Jesus is? I’m glad to grow in his garden. I’m…

Planted

          My roots are planted in Christ Jesus

I’m reaching upward towards the Son

          I draw in truth, the living Word

And grow in him, the holy one

          My trunk is well-supported

For my foundation is the best

          My integrity is proven

As he lets me face life’s tests

          My branches spread beneath the heavens

In supplication and in praise

          I have all I’ve ever needed,

Drinking in his golden rays

          So as he prunes me, I am bearing

Fruit to sow his mighty seed

          I am growing in his forest

Of the souls that love has freed

Got Chemistry?

          Hey there, mister engineer

You know your chemistry

          But I’ve a question for you:

Will you study it with me?

          Because I’ve studied my physics

And gravity’s too weak

          There must be a bond between us

Our affinity’s at its peak

          Like alkali and water

Sparks fly when I’m with you

          It’s dynamic equilibrium,

Ever steady, always new

            Do you remember those Got Milk? commercials from back in the day? Actually, doing a quick Google search just now to see who was the advertiser for Got Milk?, it looks like it might still be a thing. I guess it might just be me not having television that’s kept it off my radar for a while. C’mon, YouTube! If I must have ads before my music, at least give me some nostalgia.

            Anyway, the title of this poem is a strong nod to those old commercials. And then the rest of this poem is just such a mix of me. It’s got my nerdy love of chemistry and physics – with preference for chemistry, of course. There’s an appreciation for language – meter, cadence, rhyme, metaphor and non-risqué double entendre dancing together. Playfulness with seriousness still at its heart. Perhaps your first clue in getting to know me that I just might be a hopeless romantic.

          Hey there, mister engineer

You know your chemistry

          But I’ve a question for you:

Will you study it with me?

            And you’re probably thinking, “She’s not seriously going to explain this, is she? I’ve got it. Engineers study chemistry. Romantic attraction can also be called chemistry. I get what that kind of studying is.” And yes, fair. I won’t bore you with that explanation. But do you want to learn something interesting?

            Recently, “etymology” has been the magical keyword which has simplified my perpetual quest to learn the origins of words. So, as we talk about chemistry, I got to thinking: when did we start using “chemistry” in reference not just to the science but also in reference to relationships?

            I would have guessed that the romantic usage of the word chemistry didn’t come into use until fairly recently, as people started propagating the notion that attraction was not – and perhaps shouldn’t be – founded on reason and shared beliefs but rather on the chemical chaos that erupts in our brains when pheromones start flowing. Think about Linus in Ocean’s Thirteen, where all it took were a couple strategically placed pheromone patches to get Terry Benedict’s henchwoman fawning all over him.

            But I was relieved to learn that this is not the case. In fact, doing a little reading, there’s quite a bit of disagreement amongst the scientific community as to whether pheromones affect human romantic behavior at all. But science is an ever-developing realm. Just because scientific chemistry may have little to do with human attraction, that’s no reason the relational term “chemistry” couldn’t have developed under that misapprehension.

            So, let me take you on a journey of origins.

            Do a little Googling regarding etymology of chemistry. Try searching when it was first used with romantic meaning. Unless you’re a far more advanced Googler than I am, you’re probably going to find plenty of information about the etymology of chemistry as a science and plenty of articles about what romantic chemistry is and its importance or lack thereof in relationships. And if you check out the Reddit posts and Stack Exchange discussions, you’ll likely wind up at the Online Etymology Dictionary.

            My summary?

            The word chemistry came out of the word alchemy, which is most often thought of today as medieval chemistry and has a strong association with attempting to transform common metals into precious ones such as silver or gold. (Imagine if we’d figured that out and could alchemy our way to platinum today! Woo – Santa Baby!) But it actually encompassed a wide range of study of the natural world and tried to understand and explain what happens in the world around us both through philosophical means and rudimentary science.

            Moving into the seventeenth century, chemistry was becoming more science-y all the time, but it was still a little too mysterious to get the “ology” we see on the end of many subjects, indicating “the study of”. Instead, we get “ry” – “the art of”.

            I could have stopped at the Online Etymology Dictionary. It will tell you that we first started using “chemistry” to figuratively mean “instinctual attraction or affinity” around 1600, about the same time we started using it to refer to a “natural physical process”, referencing back to our good friend alchemy. But that wasn’t good enough for me. You see, my appetite had been whetted by finding the Oxford English Dictionary in my search results. The catch? It’s a subscription to access it online. And I prefer to sample the goods before I spend my blunt.

            Safe to say, if someone’s looking for a Christmas or birthday present for me, I’d take a complete collection of the Oxford English Dictionary…and a bookshelf to hold my new 15 volume collection.

            Last year, I watched The Professor and the Madman and learned about how the self-educated Professor James Murray of Oxford University captained the impressive and daunting task of assembling a comprehensive lexicon of the English language. He didn’t want to settle for the simplicity of mere origin languages – prefixes, suffixes, and root words – to tell us the one or more definitions of the words which compose our language. No – instead, he asked people to send in examples of the usage of the words. If the Oxford were to hold what I expected, I could see a little summary of the development of usage of the word “chemistry” over time.

            So, off I went to my local library. I usually am the sort to wander around on a quest rather than talk to the staff, but a helpful librarian swooped down on me and asked if I needed assistance, so soon thereafter, I was at the reference desk and then being guided into the reading room to look for the library-use only set. But no dice. The then-thirteen volume collection – this set was from 1933 – was nowhere to be found. Somewhere in the library’s current renovation process, it has gone AWOL.

            Should I content myself with mere internet definitions? A couple quick searches informed me that the libraries of the neighboring towns were also missing this wonderful set. A forty-minute drive into the big city? Would the adventure be worth it?

            But ah, there is a university in my town, and their catalog showed a 1989, fifteen-volume set at the reference desk. Off I went.

            Can I tell you the satisfaction of pulling out two enormous, blue, hardcover-bound books with the Oxford seal imprinted on the cover? Volume III, Cham-Creeky. Did you know chep, chenevixite, and chick-a-diddle were words? Volume I, A-Bazouki. Does Bazouki have anything to do with bazookas? I flip to the back to check. Turns out it’s an alternative spelling of bouzouki. I guess I need Volume II, B.B.C. -Chalypsography. And a bouzouki is a type of mandoline. I could keep going. It’s fascinating. I know a lot of words, but every page of these books holds ones I’ve never heard of.

            Now, what do we learn about chemistry?

            Okay, if I’m really honest, it’s not patently different from what the Online Etymology Dictionary had to say – but, oh, so much richer!

            Chemistry: “‘the art or practice of the chemist’; at first probably contemptuous”. Sense 1: “alchemy, obs[solete]”. Sense 4: “(Referring to the results attributed to alchemy or chemical action.) spec. an instinctual, apparently unanalysable, attraction or affinity between people or groups of people; the combination of personal characteristics that creates this.”

            To be fair, it seems pretty obvious that the Online Etymology Dictionary used the Oxford English Dictionary as its source. And they were right about both common usages of the word developing around the same time – the early- to mid-seventeenth century. Fascinating to read the examples. In Magastrom, by Gaule, a 1652 work, chemistry is defined as “a kinde of praestigious, covetous, cheating magick”. But by that time, some knew better, and we have the sense 3 definition: “That branch of physical science and research, which deals with the several elementary substances, or forms of matter, of which all bodies are composed, the laws that regulate the combination of these elements in the formation of compound bodies, and the various phenomena that accompany their exposure to diverse physical conditions.” Woo-ee! Sounds like a legit science now to me. I guess I won’t need Volume I for alchemy after all.

            But before we return Volume III to the shelf, I have one last quote for you. Queen Elizabeth was talking about chemistry of personality in 1600, but in 1898, George Bernard Shaw, in his play You Never Can Tell, gives us, “No, no, no. Not love: we know better than that. Let’s call it chemistry… Well, you’re attracting me irresistably—chemically.”

            Do you want to decide now: am I more of a word nerd or a chemistry nerd?

          Because I’ve studied my physics

And gravity’s too weak

          There must be a bond between us

Our affinity’s at its peak

            My AP Chemistry teacher in high school said that when you’re studying chemistry, you’re really studying physics; when you’re studying physics, you’re really studying math; when you’re studying math, you’re really studying philosophy; when you’re studying philosophy, you’re really studying religion; and you can’t really study back any further than that.

            That said, in this study of chemistry, let’s back up a step into physics.

            Gravity. The force that makes things fall down, right? Well, yes…and no. Gravity: the force of attraction that exists between all objects of mass. We can’t jump to the moon because the earth is way too big for that…amongst other reasons. I’ve heard a rumor that Sir Isaac Newton was ruminating under an apple tree when he had his gravitational epiphany. Apparently, comparing the velocity of the moon’s orbit to the velocity of falling objects on earth is how he started piecing together his larger gravitational theory. I’m not going to get into Einstein’s theories on relativity, but suffice to say, unless my sweetheart and I reach catastrophic levels of corpulence – or maybe get hit by a really high dose of Marvel gamma rays – gravity’s not going to be the thing drawing us together.

            How about a chemical bond?

            Oh, yes, I went there. “An instinctual, apparently unanalysable, attraction or affinity.” That kind of chemistry.

            But what about the other kind? Covalent or ionic? Are we sharing our electrons – this electric energy coursing between us – or did one party swipe them from the other? Covalent, of course. Ionic’s like a robber. Chlorine says to Sodium, “Pay up, squirt!” and he forks over that one lonely valence electron he was carrying around. We’re not “bonded” like that. This is a covalent thing – two oxygen atoms forming a diatomic molecule. No more crazy oxidation; we’re knocking out those free radicals. This is an equal give and take, and the world’s a little cleaner for it. Breathe in that oxygen.

            Affinity. Fortunately, I didn’t put back my good friend O. Ed just yet. Sense 8: “A natural friendliness, liking, or attractiveness; an attraction drawing to anything.” Sense 9: “Chemical attraction; the tendency which certain elementary substances or their compounds have to unite with other elements and form new compounds.”

            I’m amazed that oxygen is ever broken apart. It’s the second most electronegative element on the periodic table – the second most electron-hungry of them all. Two oxygen atoms satisfying each other. That’s quite the affinity.

            Now, I know oxygen molecules can be broken apart – that’s how we breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide – but let’s keep those bond-breaking agents out of the picture. Successful chemistry experiments are all about controlling the environment and keeping out the contaminants.

          Like alkali and water

Sparks fly when I’m with you

          It’s dynamic equilibrium,

Ever steady, always new

            Have you ever seen an alkali metal react with water? It’ll grab your attention. The alkali group actually got its name because it alkalizes water – dumps hydroxide ions into the water – to form a basic, or alkaline, solution.

            What makes this so explosive? Why do sparks fly – quite literally?

            Well, Oxygen is really good at hogging Hydrogens’ electrons. It has eight protons in its nucleus that are all pulling on those valence electrons. But it can’t quite steal Hydrogen’s lone electron because even though Hydrogen just has the one proton pulling on its electron, that electron is right up cozy next to the nucleus, and Oxygen has two rounds of electrons between its positively charged nucleus and those high-demand electrons. Sometimes a weaker magnet has a stronger pull, if it’s close enough to whatever its attracting. So, Oxygen pulls hard on two Hydrogens’ electrons, but they sort of share.

            Then an alkali metal shows up, and now, all bets are off. Let’s say it’s Lithium. Lithium only has three protons, and its outer electron is just as far away as the ones Oxygen is holding on to. Now, Oxygen says, “See ya!” to one of its captive Hydrogens and just flat-out steals an electron from Lithium. The abandoned hydrogens from a couple of these interactions team up to form hydrogen gas. Highly flammable, right?

            The crazy thing is, everyone involved is much happier with this situation – even Lithium. It’s going to be way easier for him to hold on to those couple remaining electrons he has; life problem solved – no more mugging. The result? A lot of positive (or excess) energy is generated – dumped out into the surroundings.

            Remember the hydrogen gas that formed? We just heated it up. And now, the sparks are really going to fly.

            But what about dynamic equilibrium? What’s that? Well, if you have a supersaturated solution, one where you have so much solute – sugar, let’s say – that it can’t all dissolve in the solvent – we’ll go with water – then some of the sugar crystals remain at the bottom of the vessel…sort of. What’s actually happening is that the dissolved sugar molecules keep trading places with the undissolved sugar molecules. The total concentration remains constant, but the molecules keep changing location. This happens with any reversible reaction where an excess of one reactant is present.

            And that’s what I want in a relationship too – something that is steady but not stagnant. Something reliable but not boring. As an outside observer, that saturated sugar solution might look pretty boring. But just think if you were one of the sugar molecules. It’s probably more fun to keep changing states than to be perpetually liquid or perpetually solid.

            So, be contemptuous of alchemy if you want. But as mysterious and beautiful as our world is in its function, romance has it beat by a mile.

            I hope you had fun on this adventure of linguistics and teensy particles. The humanities and sciences are a match made in heaven. I make no apologies as I ask:

Got Chemistry?

          Hey there, mister engineer

You know your chemistry

          But I’ve a question for you:

Will you study it with me?

          Because I’ve studied my physics

And gravity’s too weak

          There must be a bond between us

Our affinity’s at its peak

          Like alkali and water

Sparks fly when I’m with you

          It’s dynamic equilibrium,

Ever steady, always new

Safe to Confide

          What scares you?

What hurts you?

          Why do you hide?

Please tell me

          Please trust me

I’m safe to confide

          I want to know you

And love you

          And share in your schemes

To heal you

          And help you

Chase after your dreams

          I’ll carry your burden

And help you find rest

          All I want for you

Is God’s very best

          As he carries you,

I’ll walk along

          And in his blessing,

We’ll both be strong

            You know, as I look back at this poem, I don’t actually remember whether I ever gave it to the person I wrote it for.

            I had a friend in college – she’s actually still a friend now, though we see less of each other – and she was the kind of person who takes perseverance to get close to.

            You see, “Man was meant to be a bold creative artist who plunges into the unformed mystery of life and shapes it to a greater vision of beauty. At the fall he became a cowardly, violent protector of nothing more than himself. Intimacy and openness were replaced by hiding and hatred.” (That’s a quote from Sacred Marriage, by Gary Thomas.)

            And my pastor was just recently preaching on a similar idea as we’ve been making our way through Genesis. At the end of chapter two, in verse twenty-five, before sin has entered the world, “the man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed.” But move forward a mere seven verses to the point in chapter three where Adam and Eve have eaten of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and, “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.”

            We no longer live in a world where public nakedness is acceptable. Because the innocence of knowing good only has long been stripped away. But the truth is that in the garden, Adam and Eve were not merely physically naked; they were emotionally naked as well. Their comfort with physical nakedness was an outward manifestation of their comfort with emotional nakedness.

            What is true about nakedness? In nakedness, we are seen completely as we are – every freckle, every mole, every disfigurement or crinkle of cellulite, every scar. Of course, every perfection of toned muscle and smooth flesh untouched by the sun is seen as well, but that’s not generally where our minds go when we consider the vulnerability and exposure of nakedness. Will we be good enough?

            Now, I’m a big fan of modesty. I’m certainly not promoting indecent exposure as our path forward. Our world has changed from the perfection of Eden to the labor pains of a groaning creation. We do know now what evil is. And it is good to cover our physical nakedness with clothes.

            But what have we lost in covering our emotions?

          What scares you?

What hurts you?

          Why do you hide?

Please tell me

          Please trust me

I’m safe to confide

            That’s always why we start hiding: something – or more likely, someone – has hurt us, and now we’re scared. We hide behind a façade of formality or strength or assumed cheerfulness. Did someone in the past take advantage of your trust, of your love, of your openness? Were you mocked for who you really are? Were you scorned because you didn’t fall in line with the norm or the popular crowd? Or do you not even remember anymore; you only hold on to the sense that it isn’t safe to open up to another?

            Are we safe to confide in?

            I wanted this friend of mine to know that I wanted to know the real her.

          I want to know you

And love you

          And share in your schemes

To heal you

          And help you

Chase after your dreams

            How would I be able to know her or love in her in the entirety of who she was if she couldn’t take the risk to trust? How could I encourage her to pursue her goals until I knew what they were and why she desired those things?

            And yet, I can’t be the one to bring healing. I can be God’s instrument as he does the work of emotional healing. And I can pray for emotional and physical healing. I can love as God loves – work to grow in that at least.

          I’ll carry your burden

And help you find rest

          All I want for you

Is God’s very best

          As he carries you,

I’ll walk along

          And in his blessing,

We’ll both be strong

            Three friends come up in this story. And the second is one who I read this poem to who was not the originally intended recipient. And until this last stanza, he thought the poem was written from the perspective of God.

            “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma.” (Ephesians 5:1-2)

            If this is what God’s love looks like – a love that invites the beloved to share openly and completely and shoulders burdens out of a desire to help us towards his very best, what he has made us for – isn’t that what our love should like as well?

            Galatians 6:2: “Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfill the law of Christ.”

            So, what is my point? We are still to be chasing after the perfection of Eden. If we are imitators of God, we will be safe to confide in. Our deep and genuine love will give us a desire to know our fellow sojourners in their strengths and weaknesses, joys and sorrows, and then to come alongside them to help them towards God’s best for them. And that’s probably going to mean sacrifice.

            And here is where friend three enters the story. Remember that quote from Gary Thomas I shared earlier? Well, I never actually read Sacred Marriage. But this friend of mine did, and she shared his quote with me in a letter. And with her permission, I’d like to share a much bigger chunk of the wisdom she wrote to me in that challenging letter:

            _{A deep relationship should go beyond the limits of this world. As Christians, we don’t have to see to trust, hope, or love—we have faith. We know there is more than what we see, more than what we know or comprehend. We know that we are not the center of the universe, and that our eternal God will provide for us. We know each little thing is part of a bigger picture, a greater plan. And we TRUST God. This means we are not limited to our own small experience or knowledge; that we are not guided simply by our own reasonings and feelings. Do relationships not fall into this category? Will God not protect our hearts more carefully than our bodies? Will he not strengthen us and grow us according to his good purpose?}

            _{This is not easy for us. One quote I read says, “Man was meant to be a bold creative artist who plunges into the unformed mystery of life and shapes it to a greater vision of beauty. At the fall he became a cowardly, violent protector of nothing more than himself. Intimacy and openness were replaced by hiding and hatred.” So when sin entered our lives, it created in us a strong tendency toward fear, pride, & selfishness and a strong desire to protect ourselves. Each of these work directly against the will of God. We know Christ has set us free, but still we struggle…God tells us to give freely of ourselves—to him and then to others. How is that possible if our main focus is to avoid getting hurt? How can you know how time with others will affect them? If it doesn’t serve or fulfill you, because you don’t see that person again, is it worthless? Is what you had ever taken away? Is it useless because it ends? Do we love and grow close when we can because we never know when it will end?}

            Do you have a friend like this in your life? Proverbs 27:5-6a says, “Better is open rebuke / Than love that is concealed. / Faithful are the wounds of a friend”. And that was a hard letter to read. But better to be rebuked, to have a friend who would risk wounding me, than to continue in a way that does not walk faithfully after God. The book of James concludes with chapter 5, verses 19 and 20 saying, “My brethren, if any among you strays from the truth and one turns him back, let him know that he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.”

            What was the context of this letter?

            I was a member of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship in college, and at the end of every school year, there was a week-long camp called Chapter Focus Week that we could go to. And I didn’t want to go. I like deep, long-lasting friendships, and my perception was that camps like that build a false sense of friendship. Without the stress, pressure, or busyness of work for a week, people may open up and draw close for those several days, but when normal life resumes, it’s like those days never happened. And that’s painful for me. I didn’t like to invest without an expectation of return.

            But do you see the transforming work of God there? It’s intentional that I used the past-tense “didn’t” rather than the present-tense “don’t” regarding investing without expectation of return. This friend dear enough to risk the hard conversation set my feet more surely on the path to life. I went to Chapter Focus Week that year, and I don’t know how God may have used me there. Honestly, my strongest recollections are times of solo prayer out in the woods and on the lakeshore and teaching some other kitchen helpers to peel potatoes. But sometimes we don’t find out until years later how God used our obedience. Sometimes, we have to wait for eternity.

             I would still rather that every good relationship could last forever – and one day they will – but on this earth, that’s not the way it works, and I am growing in investing in relationships for the day or season they are in my life, even if I would rather hold on to them forever.

            Did you notice that the love described in Ephesians 5 – that love of God which we are to imitate – is a sacrificial love? It’s a love that’s about what can I give, not what can I receive.

            In Philippians 2:17-18, Paul says, “But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all. You too, I urge you, rejoice in the same way and share your joy with me.” A drink offering is entirely consumed in the offering; nothing is held back. “For our God is a consuming fire.” (Hebrews 12:29)

            This was the encouragement of my friend: love freely and give without expectation of return. God is doing a bigger work than I can see, and he invites me to have a part in it. I may be consumed in the offering, but God is my protector and reward. Jesus says in Luke 14:13-14, “But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

            I want my life to be that reception. And I don’t want it perfectly – yet! There’s still a part of me that wants to protect myself, to only invest in relationships that will bring me blessing. But God keeps pruning back the dead growth so that I will bear fruit more abundantly for his kingdom. There is within me the growing desire to be poured out to bless those around me, trusting that God will be the one to fill my cup. And also, he has blessed me so richly in my friendships that I need never fear that I will receive no earthly blessing in return for my service. But ah, the heavenly blessing – how much greater!

            So, why do you hide? Why do you hold back a part of yourself? Is your God not big enough to protect you when you bare your heart?

            And will you be that friend who is safe to trust and confide in? Will you bear your friends’ burdens alongside them?

            When Adam and Eve stood naked in the garden, they were both revealed completely as they were. And they both loved freely. They worked alongside one another to do God’s beautiful work in spreading the Garden of Eden across the world.

Don’t ask another to bare her heart if you’re not willing to bare your own. We are all equals before God. We are meant to both give and receive. Give of yourself, and you might receive the confidence of another. But even if you don’t receive in return for your gifts, trust God with the outcome. One day he will spread his garden across the face of the new earth, and when that day comes, our knowledge will be complete. “For we know in part and we prophesy in part; but when the perfect comes, the partial will be done away… For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:9-10, 12)

            I want to be like Jesus – giving freely of myself wherever I go, even if I won’t be there very long, even if the people I serve will hurt me. I want to be willing even to die if that’s what he calls me to. I don’t find it in my heart yet to be that generous, but if that day comes, I want to have the love of Jesus to speak with compassion, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34), or that of Stephen, who spoke the truth in love and ended his life crying out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Acts 7:60) while the them he spoke of cast the stones that killed him.

            Jesus didn’t want to die a tortuous death. He was, after all, human. “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42). How wonderful the promise of 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

            So, I’m bringing my weakness to the altar, and I pray that God’s will be done in and through me. I want every day of my life to bring me closer to meaning “Safe to Confide” not just for the long-term friendships I have sought and chosen but for every image-bearer of God who crosses my path. I want to be an imitator of God.

Safe to Confide

          What scares you?

What hurts you?

          Why do you hide?

Please tell me

          Please trust me

I’m safe to confide

          I want to know you

And love you

          And share in your schemes

To heal you

          And help you

Chase after your dreams

          I’ll carry your burden

And help you find rest

          All I want for you

Is God’s very best

          As he carries you,

I’ll walk along

          And in his blessing,

We’ll both be strong

‍

Outside Time

          Rhythm in the raindrops

And pleasure mixed with pain

          Heartbeats marked by teardrops

Yet blood has cleansed my stains

          Forever lasts for moments

In the timeframe of my mind

          This silence is a sanctuary

He is the solace that I find

          I am captured by his beauty

He makes me free to run

          By the goal that’s set before me

I am the blessed one

          Perfection in the broken

Spilled out for us below

          All this that from our ignorance

We’d finally come to know

          There is one who stands outside time

With eyes that see my soul

          He is the judge; my sin is crime

But his love has made me whole

          I walk a narrow path to heaven

The God-man leads the way

          And for eternity his presence

Is where I shall delight to stay

            People can get a little uncomfortable sometimes when we talk about a song or a poem or a piece of art as being inspired by God. After all, inspired means breathed out. So, when we talk about something being inspired by God, what we’re really saying is that it’s breathed out by him. And that’s only scripture – the spoken word of God.

            But is that the narrow view we want to take? God gave men specific words to write down to reveal truths about himself and the world and humanity. That’s a unique miracle. But does it preclude the possibility that he is still giving supernatural gifts to his people – beautiful expression of meaning?

            I ask because I don’t really take credit for many of the spiritual poems that I write. It’s true that I’ve practiced my craft for a while, but I also believe that God has given me more than a knack for words and imagery, cadence and rhyme. He has given me truth wrapped in beauty. May I call that inspiration, if I wait upon the Lord and he answers the cry of my heart with words I did know to speak or write?

            A lot of people in the church have spent a lot of time trying to figure out what their spiritual gifts are. But what if we’re missing the point? I don’t think serving God is a lifelong quest to figure out some elusive calling. I believe he crafts us individually and uniquely with specific skills and passions, interests and abilities. And then he wants us to use them.

            I really like that the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-29 uses a unit of money that happens also in English to mean a natural aptitude or skill. As Jesus is describing the kingdom of heaven, he says:

_{“For it is just like a man about to go on a journey, who called his own slaves and entrusted his possessions to them. To one he gave five talents, to another, two, and to another, one, each according to his own ability; and he went on his journey. Immediately the one who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and gained five more talents. In the same manner the one who had received the two talents gained two more. But he who received the one talent went away, and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.}

_{“Now after a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. The one who had received the five talents came up and brought five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you entrusted five talents to me. See, I have gained five more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful slave. You were faithful with a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’}

_{“Also the one who had received the two talents came up and said, ‘Master, you entrusted two talents to me. See, I have gained two more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful slave. You were faithful with a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’}

_{“And the one also who had received the one talent came up and said, ‘Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you scattered no seed. And I was afraid, and went away and hid your talent in the ground. See, you have what is yours.’}

_{“But his master answered and said to him, ‘You wicked, lazy slave, you knew that I reap where I did not sow and gather where I scattered no seed. Then you ought to have put my money in the bank, and on my arrival I would have received my money back with interest. Therefore take away the talent from him, and give it to the one who has the ten talents.’}

_{“For to everyone who has, more shall be given, and he will have an abundance; but from the one who does not have, even what he does have shall be taken away.}

Are you sitting on your talents right now?

            If God gave you a gift, he wants you to invest it in furthering his kingdom. Do you have a beautiful voice? The “typical” spiritual gift lists in scripture – Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12, Ephesians 4 – don’t list singing as a spiritual gift. But Ephesians 5:19 encourages us to “[speak] to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord”. What if those lists aren’t exhaustive? What if they’re representative samples?

            I haven’t found poetry in the list of spiritual gifts either. But I have seen how it can encourage the hearts of the saints.

            I think often there is a pattern in the gifting God gives, and Jeremiah expresses it in Jeremiah 20:9: “But if I say, ‘I will not remember Him / Or speak anymore in His name, / Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire / Shut up in my bones; / And I am weary of holding it in, / And I cannot endure it.’” God gives us a gift, and we’re scared to share it. We’re insecure in our own abilities, we don’t want to push ourselves on others, or like Jeremiah, the task we’re called to is hard, and we don’t want to face it. And yet it cannot be contained; it’s not meant to be.

            What’s that thing for you?

            I don’t think it’s the only thing, but for me, one of those things is poetry. In Emily’s Quest, by L.M. Montgomery, Emily’s aunt makes her promise not to write any fiction while she’s away at college; that’s the only condition on which she’s allowed to go. And as I read that, I wondered: if I had to give up not fiction but poetry, could I? And I don’t think I could. It burns within me. I sit in God’s presence with my joys and my sorrows, my fears and my doubts. And he makes my joy more beautiful, more grounded. He amplifies my gratitude. He comforts my sorrow and replaces my fears and doubts with trust and assurance.

            What a beautiful gift! But it’s not just for me. It’s meant to be shared. Because what if another of God’s children has that same hurt tearing at his heart? Maybe that poem can carry God’s truth to him the way it did to me. And maybe the sharing of my joy will inspire hope in the heart of one who needs it.

            So, whether you find your gifts spelled out in scripture or don’t, start using them. Because in a sense, we’re all inspired by God. He breathed life into Adam’s nostrils. He breathes life into us. He sets the spark within us.

            Did you know that enthusiasm has its roots in being inspired or possessed by a god? Take that thing you’re enthusiastic about – whether it’s teaching God’s word or fixing cars, being an administrator or traveling the world – and start blessing people. You might just find that the gift you couldn’t find mentioned in the Bible is the open door to a gift that is mentioned there. Maybe while you’re traveling the world, you get to share the gospel with someone in each hostel where you spend the night.

            When I wrote “Outside Time”, I was in the lower level of a college dorm, at a round table in one of the lounges. And I don’t remember precisely what was tearing at my heart. I remember who I was there with – a friend who was leading a Bible study at the little cluster of couch and chairs nearby. I assume from the first stanza that it must have been raining outside. And I had my head down on one arm, tears silently trickling down my face as I wrote.

            Sometimes when I write poetry I don’t feel like I’ve gone to any special place. But sometimes, it seems as though I’ve tuned in to a special frequency in my mind and am writing on a channel I don’t usually visit. And this was one of those poems.

          Rhythm in the raindrops

And pleasure mixed with pain

          Heartbeats marked by teardrops

Yet blood has cleansed my stains

            There’s something sad about the rain – like the world is crying. But it’s beautiful too – steady music falling on every exposed surface. Isn’t that life? Pleasure and pain comingled. My heart may be despairing in loss, loneliness, or confusion, and then a butterfly flits across my path. Can I help but smile and praise its and my creator?

            There can be seasons of life where tears and heartbeats don’t seem so far apart. But even then, Christ’s blood is sufficient. He not only cleanses us from unrighteousness – 1 Corinthians 6:9a, 11: “Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Such were some of you; but you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God” – no, he not only cleanses us from unrighteousness, but he also hides our lives within his – Colossians 3:3-4: “For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him in glory.”

            This washing we receive in the blood of Christ is the answer to the teardrops marking the tempo of our lives.

          Forever lasts for moments

In the timeframe of my mind

          This silence is a sanctuary

He is the solace that I find

            You’ll hear people talk about how this life is but a drop of water compared to the vast limitlessness of eternity. But I can’t wrap my mind around that. “Forever lasts for moments / In the timeframe of my mind”. I glimpse this vision of a perfect eternity with my maker, and for moments, I begin to grasp the wonder of it. My heart hopes in a sure thing I cannot see. Jesus says in John 16:33b, “In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” And Paul says in Romans 8:18, 24-25, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us… For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.”

            Right now, I don’t truly understand eternity. 2 Peter 3:8 says “that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.” A time is coming when time will no longer bind us. And when we exist in that reality, we’ll finally understand just how fleeting this life was. We’ll be convinced in a way we can only play at right now that the glory which will then have already been revealed to us squelches our present sufferings like the insignificant things they are.

            And I’m not making light of your suffering. I know the weight of pain and loss and fear and doubt. But when I rest in the presence of God, I have hope that what is coming is so much better than this life could ever be bad. “This silence is a sanctuary / He is the solace that I find”. Psalm 46:10a: “Cease striving and know that I am God”.

          I am captured by his beauty

He makes me free to run

          By the goal that’s set before me

I am the blessed one

            Romans 6 talks about being set free from slavery to sin to instead be enslaved to righteousness. And in the conclusion, verses 21 and 22 say, “Therefore what benefit were you then deriving from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the outcome of those things is death. But now having been freed from sin and enslaved to God, you derive your benefit, resulting in sanctification, and the outcome, eternal life.” And what now do we do with this freedom? Hebrews 12:1-2 answers, “let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

            And what is the blessing that awaits? 1 Corinthians 2:9 tells us: “Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, / And which have not entered the heart of man, / All that God has prepared for those who love Him.”

            The beauty of the Lord has freed me not to wallow in despair but to chase after indescribable beauty – both of the Lord as he is and ever was and will be and of a glorious eternity in his presence.

          Perfection in the broken

Spilled out for us below

          All this that from our ignorance

We’d finally come to know

          There is one who stands outside time

With eyes that see my soul

          He is the judge; my sin is crime

But his love has made me whole

            This is the work of Jesus Christ, “who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6-8). This man who was God let himself be broken like the bread we break in communion to nourish us with life that is richer than that found in grain. He is the one who was there at the beginning – “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being” (John 1:1-3). He was a part of the “Us” when God said, “Let Us make man in Our image” (Genesis 1:26).

            The uncreated one, the one who breathed life into the nostrils of his created man, spilled his blood so that we could have life, so that we could have hope.

            He knows us through and through. “And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do” (Hebrews 4:13). “O Lord, You have searched me and known me…You understand my thought from afar” (Psalm 139:1, 2b).

            This perfect sacrifice, the great creator and one who knows all things, is also our judge. John 5:22 says, “For not even the Father judges anyone, but He has given all judgment to the Son.” And our sin is crime. 1 John 3:4 says “sin is lawlessness”, and Romans 6:23 tells us that the just punishment is death.

            “But his love has made me whole”.

            Ephesians 2:1, 4-5 gives us the glorious promise: “And you were dead in your trespasses and sins…But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ.”

            In all the religions in the world, I’ve never heard of another one where God sacrificed himself willingly to bless rebellious humanity. That is the glory of the gospel. Jesus, infinite in existence and unbound by the shackles of time, laid down his life to make us an offer: give up death – the Genesis curse of dying you shall die – to instead receive life. Simply believe that he is who he says he is, that he died and rose again to sit at the right hand of the Father, and surrender death to receive his life. And he gives it abundantly.

          I walk a narrow path to heaven

The God-man leads the way

          And for eternity his presence

Is where I shall delight to stay

            “For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matthew 7:14). But we find it in the footsteps of Jesus, who says, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24b).

            This is what freedom looks like – it’s a laying down of our own desires and a pursuit of the things God cares about. Chasing after Jesus brings satisfaction to our souls.

            Do you know what I think of when I think of heaven? Revelations 21:23: “And the city has no need of the sun or of the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God has illumined it, and its lamp is the Lamb.”  This is the description of the New Jerusalem, the new City of Peace.

            I wrote this poem nine, almost ten, years ago now, and what brought it to mind this week was the couplet “There is one who stands outside time / With eyes that see my soul”. A lot of life feels like a waiting game to me, but as I drove down the road praying about what God has next for me in life, I was comforted in knowing that the God who is not bound by time, who knows me intimately, also knows my future. He knows my needs, he cares for me incomprehensibly deeply, and I can trust him. So can you.

            Tune into his frequency. Breathe in his breath. Walk the narrow path. The scenery is stunning, and the destination is out of this world.

Outside Time

          Rhythm in the raindrops

And pleasure mixed with pain

          Heartbeats marked by teardrops

Yet blood has cleansed my stains

          Forever lasts for moments

In the timeframe of my mind

          This silence is a sanctuary

He is the solace that I find

          I am captured by his beauty

He makes me free to run

          By the goal that’s set before me

I am the blessed one

          Perfection in the broken

Spilled out for us below

          All this that from our ignorance

We’d finally come to know

          There is one who stands outside time

With eyes that see my soul

          He is the judge; my sin is crime

But his love has made me whole

          I walk a narrow path to heaven

The God-man leads the way

          And for eternity his presence

Is where I shall delight to stay

‍

               Okay, we’re doing things a little differently today because I have a longer story for you. So, I’m only going to read it once – and spoiler alert: it doesn’t rhyme – and I’m actually going to give you the backstory first, so we can end with simply the end of the story.

            And for as much as I have long had a complicated relationship with engineering, I can’t say it’s because I have no interest in nerdy things. On the contrary, I love knowing how the world works and getting to share those science-y details with others as well.

            Why am I bringing up engineering? Don’t worry: it’s not because the story is about engineering. But the story did get its start while I was sitting at a scanning electron microscope, otherwise known as an SEM.

            If you want to look at really tiny things, a normal optical microscope, like you might have had in your science set as a kid, will only get you so far. Because once the topographical features of your specimen are closer together than the wavelength of visible light is long, higher magnification isn’t going to do anything for you in the visible spectrum. But switch it up to an electron beam – now we can look at the really tiny things.

            In brief, an SEM works by shooting electrons at a sample. Then, as the electrons bounce back, the detector can tell where they bounced from and use that information to generate a surface image at really high magnification. Often, an SEM also has an EDS detector, where EDS is energy dispersive spectroscopy. Remember back in chemistry class when we learned about inner and outer electron shells for atoms? If an electron from the beam you’re shooting knocks an inner shell electron out of its atom, then an outer shell electron falls down into that place. When it falls, it loses energy, and that energy is dispersed as light. An EDS detector can tell which atoms are in a specimen based on how far the electron fell and how much energy was kicked out as a result.

            Anyway, if you’re going to shoot electrons at things, it’s best to have a vacuum in which to do so. If you leave atmosphere in the chamber, it’s going to interfere with what your electrons are up to. So, back when I worked at a place where I examined things like piston ring coatings and refractory powder components under an SEM, I would spend some time sitting in a quiet little room by myself waiting for the SEM to evacuate its sample chamber. And then, once I found a place I wanted to snag a picture from or run a compositional analysis at, I would have to sit and wait again while the machine built the visual rendering line-by-line, scan-by-scan. And as you might have realized by now, I have a thing for writing.

            I would be sitting there with my yellow legal pad – or white, if I’d gotten lucky that time at the supply closet – and Bic pen. And sometimes, inspiration would strike. On one such day, I wrote, “Many miles beyond Linden’s southern border was a river called The Looking Glass, and each day reflected in its shimmering path was the merchant’s cottage, which looked as though it had grown there with the mosses upon the banks.”

            I’ll admit: I didn’t come up with the name The Looking Glass myself for a river. No – there’s a town not far from where I grew up with two rivers running through it, one of which is The Looking Glass. And for a place with the fairytale feel of a snug little cottage among the mosses, it seemed like the right name for that river too.

            And I don’t know what evil genius prompted me to name the main character Jenna, but once I made that decision, I also had some fun loosely basing my character on my friend by the same name. Because the real Jenna also likes to bake, is straightforward in her communication, and didn’t start out thinking she wanted to be married. And while she didn’t think so, I made up an imaginary boyfriend for her named Frank. But you haven’t even met Jenna yet. So, before I get further ahead of myself, here is the title story:

“Frank ’n‘ Snorg”

            Many miles beyond Linden’s southern border was a river called The Looking Glass, and each day reflected in its shimmering path was the merchant’s cottage, which looked as though it had grown there with the mosses upon the banks. True, the merchant was seldom home, as he traveled far and wide to collect his wares which he sold every few months in the kingdom square. But while he was away, the merchant’s wife and their daughter, Jenna, faithfully tended the land and all that was on it.

            From the time that she had been very young, Jenna would spend most every baking day with her mother, dipping her fingers in the batters, trying her hand at the various recipes. And now, at the age of womanhood, she was more than capable of out-baking every woman in the land. All the villagers knew this well, but her mother insisted that she could not go to Linden with her father to become a baker until she found herself a man.

            Now Jenna found this stipulation to be unspeakably unfair. After all, in this sophisticated age, where even many of the ruffians were seen to doff their caps when a lady passed, what had she to fear in that center of elegant society, Linden proper? Nonetheless, with her father so often away, her mother was indeed the final authority in most all things at the cottage, so she began to ponder how she would find herself a man.

            That was the key thing. Though she knew right well what her mother meant by that little phrase—“find yourself a man”—she could also see how it might work in her favor that marriage itself had never been specified. Of course, she would do nothing improper. She need only find a male escort. However, in her current circumstances, that could be problem enough. The only young men who had remained in Curdwhey Village were those who would be taking over their families’ businesses. And naturally, they were all far too absorbed in these matters to waste their precious time in escorting young ladies to Linden. Court them until they had their catch? By all means. But invest without a connubial return? Not a chance. So what was to be done, Jenna did not know. The last conversation with her mother had gone something as follows:

            “Mother, can’t I just go to Linden with some pastries next trip to see if folks like them? It wouldn’t be permanent, just to get a feel for things.”

            “Certainly you may, my dear, just as soon as you find yourself a man.”

            “But, Ma, there aren’t any men around here to be found.”

            “Don’t say, ‘Ma.’ It’s not polite.” She calmly continued with the washing. “And besides, there are lots of young men around here. Does not a one of them suit your fancy?”

            Jenna sighed. “No. You know as well as I do that not a one of them will want me going to Linden.”

            Her mother smiled knowingly. “Well I imagine not, my girl. Most every man wants his wife to be at home, tending the cooking and the cleaning and to be his comfort when the working day is done. Aren’t you about ready to settle down and let one of the big, fine chaps in Curdwhey enjoy your baking?”

            “No, I’m not, and I don’t think I’ll ever be. Mother, I don’t even want to be married.”

            Mother gasped and dropped the washing in the suds. “Don’t want to be married?! Why how is such a thing possible?”

            “I just don’t see why I need a husband.”

            Her mother smiled a little as she went back to her washing. “Well, that’s as may be, but we’ll see what happens when you meet the right man.”

            Jenna made a face as she glanced out the window. “Yeah, we’ll just see.”

            Of course, neither of them knew what was to come only the very next day when they walked into the village for some produce and found a young knight leading his horse about in a distracted fashion, his visor continually falling across his vision and having to be propped up once more.

            Actually, found might not be the best description. His horse veered away, his visor fell, he pulled back to correct his steed, and in the process, he inadvertently crashed right into Jenna. He then propped up his visor to view the target of his blundering, saw that it was a lady, and bowed in apology. “Excuse me, ma’am. I did not see you there.”

            But as he bent, his helmet tumbled off. He stood to get his bearings and was arrested by her curious countenance. Then it was that she first caught his fancy. In efforts to strike up conversation, he inquired as to the amused look on her face. “Yes, my lady, what is it?”

            “You dropped your helmet,” was her matter-of-fact reply.

            “Yes, I noticed that. Thank you for informing me.”

            “Yup, no problem.” She turned to continue on her way, but her mother would have none of it. The knight had by this time reclaimed his helmet and had wisely stuffed it under his arm to prevent further visor mishaps. He too was about to continue on his way before the timely intervention by the merchant’s wife.

            “Hold a moment, my dear sir. How would you like to come back to our cottage with us for dinner and lodging this night?”

            He bowed again, forgetfully dropping the reins in process. His horse began to wander, and he clutched at the reins. “Berg!” He composed himself and bowed again, more carefully this time. “Ahem, that is, my dear ma’am, I would be delighted to dine with you and your most charming daughter. Very gracious of you.”

            Jenna cast a perturbed glance at her all-too-obvious mother while introductions were exchanged.

            “Wonderful. I am Mrs. Süsser, and this is my daughter, Miss Süsser.”

He took her proffered hand to his lips, while stooping in another bow, and had just managed to get out, “I am Franklin von Fahrenpferd” before Jenna commented.

            “You sure do bow a lot.”

            He gave her an appreciative look. “And you are very perspicacious. You may call me Frank if you like.”

            “Okay.”

            Her mother seemed a little distressed by this exchange, but she was so glad that Frank was young and good-looking and by all appearances a knight who had taken a liking to her daughter that the marriage bells already ringing in her head quite drowned out the thoughts of gentle rebuke towards her daughter’s behavior.

            So they completed their errands in town, and the good knight von Fahrenpferd placed their sundry items in Berg’s saddlebags to lighten the ladies’ load. They followed The Looking Glass down to the cottage and sat down to a hearty stew prepared by Mrs. Süsser. Frank in particular did it hearty justice as he scarfed it down. However, it was when he finished the expertly prepared raspberry tarts with which he was eagerly supplied after supper that his warm appreciation was made known.

            “Mrs. Süsser, these are absolutely scrumptious. Did you make these yourself?”

            She beamed while replying, “I’m so glad you like them, but I must admit they were not of my own making but rather my daughter’s.”

            His eyes turned back to Jenna. “I should have known you’d be handy in the kitchen. How I’d love to taste your pie.”

            “They are pretty good, but I haven’t made any very lately.”

            Her mother stared her down. “But she’d be happy to make one tomorrow if you’ll be staying on.”

            Frank’s face turned sad. “I would very much like to, but the longer you stay in any one place, the harder it is to go. If I don’t leave tomorrow as planned, I may not continue with my journey in good time.”

            Disappointment registered clearly on Mrs. Süsser’s face while Jenna carelessly gathered the dishes from the table. “How unfortunate! But what is your journey? Perhaps you could return to our cottage if you pass by Curdwhey on your return.”

            He smiled readily. “It would be my pleasure.” Then some hesitation. “That is, if I return. For my mission is to find a dragon and vanquish it.”

            “Oh, how dreadful! Must you?”

            Now Jenna was all attention. “A dragon? I’d like to see a dragon.” She sat down at the table once more with great alacrity.

            Mrs. Süsser sighed in resignation at this proclamation. Frank perked up considerably though. “Would you? You know, slaying a dragon would set me up nicely in my career as a knight, but rescuing a damsel in distress would almost certainly win me a baronetcy.”

            His host smiled appreciatively. “That would be wonderful.”

            But Miss Süsser was less disposed to think so. “You can’t kill the dragon! It’s not like he’s out rampaging. If you have to hunt him out in his dragon house, he can’t deserve to die.”

            Frank shrugged. “That’s how it’s often done nowadays. And just think if the sketchalotsee were there.” He glanced off while picturing it in his mind and then framed the scene with his hands. “There I am bravely warding the beast off from deranging the lady”—here he looked again towards Miss Süsser—“and then just as I wipe clean my sword, I look up to see the best sketchers of the lot furiously penciling the moment on their reporter pads. That would be great!”

            “Uh huh. Good luck with that.” Jenna couldn’t help but think his visor would fall at the wrong time, and that would be the end of the dragon’s assailant.

            Undaunted, Frank struck up his blithe note again. “So you’d like to see the dragon?”

            “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

            Now Mrs. Süsser jumped back in. “Then you shall go with the gentleman tomorrow. Pack your things tonight, and I’ll prepare traveling rations for you.”

            All three seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, though possibly all for slightly different reasons. So they went to bed with pleasant dreams to take them safely through to morning.

            When day broke, Mrs. Süsser had breakfast all ready, and no sooner had the sun fully shown itself than Franklin von Fahrenpferd and Miss Jenna Süsser were mounted up on Berg and off on their way. They traveled south with light conversation, stopping in the little towns they came across to inquire as to the location of the nearest dragon, though meeting with little success. This first night they took lodging in an unassuming village of farm people who had long ago stopped caring for dragons, as none of their sheep had been eaten by one for quite some time. Indeed, all that day there had been no one so helpful as to point them towards a dragon. This had Frank scratching his head—or his helmet at least—wondering what the problem was.

            He confided to Jenna, “I was told there were several dragons living in the environs just south of The Looking Glass.”

            Jenna helpfully supplied, “Apparently we haven’t reached those environs just yet.

            But the next day they met with much better fortune. The first village they came to, the wise old butcher warmly described how only last week his nephew had been terrified almost out of his wits by a scaly beast which had slithered up behind him while he was fishing in the Sungale Pond five miles south of town.

            Frank thanked him gladly for the news, and as they rode out of town, he squeezed his heels into Berg’s sides, and they took off at such a tremendous clip as to cause Jenna to hold down her skirts, though she smiled the while. “Hey, this is fun! Why couldn’t we go like this the whole way?”

            At this, Frank urged Berg on yet more strongly, and he stretched out so that his hooves hardly clipped the sod. But when he spotted the pond, he reined in his panting steed. “We must be almost there.” And he proceeded to dismount and then crept about watchfully, leading Berg in his wake.

            Jenna piped up, “So what do dragon houses look like?”

            Frank turned quickly, visor crashing down in the process. “Shh!” The sound amplified in his helmet. He stomped one ironclad foot and he irritably clicked his visor back up. Restoring the helmet to its desired state, he tried again, whispering, “We must be quiet now. Look about for rocky places. Dragons usually prefer stone outcroppings for their dens.”

            She glanced about. “Hey, what about that little mountain over there? I think the trees clear a little ways in front of it.”

            Frank didn’t really seem quite grateful as he climbed back up into the saddle, causing Jenna to dodge in avoiding his foot. “Yes, that’s probably it. We’ll head that way.”

            Arriving soon thereafter at the edge of the clearing, they were just in time to spot a long, emerald green tail disappearing around, and possibly into, the mountain. Frank climbed down again and helped Jenna down this time too.

            “Here, give Berg a bit of a walk around while I go inspect the dragon’s lair.”

            Jenna took the reins readily enough but interjected, “Don’t just rush in and kill the dragon.”

            He looked at her with something that appeared very much like mischief in his eyes. “Of course not. You’re not in distress yet, my damsel.”

            With this, he was off, and Jenna had to redirect her conversation to the horse. The conversation was pretty one-sided as she expostulated on the various reasons it was poor form to rush in killing dragons. At appropriate intervals, Berg seconded this with heavy expulsions of breath and flaring nostrils.

            Frank stealthily trod his way across the stones and had only been out of sight a minute when all of a sudden he was seen running as fast as his clanking armor would allow back towards the damsel and his steed. Upon arrival, he clasped his hands for Jenna to mount and urged, “Up, up! Let’s be off! Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

            But Jenna was quite unaffected by his urgency. “What happened? I didn’t even see any flame.”

            “Oh, but there was flame! I had hardly spotted the green monster when he belched forth a plume of brimstone.”

            “Really? Had he even seen you?”

            “That was the strange part. He seemed totally ignorant of my presence. But then he attacked.”

            She looked over his suit of armor. “That’s weird. You seem fine. Brimstone must not be as hot as I thought it was.”

            “Are you that stuck on seeing a dragon?”

            “Well, I would still like to see him.”

            “Then be my guest.” He gestured towards the mountain. “He’s that way.”

            “Okay.” And she set off resolutely to see the lizard, a traveling sack in hand.

            Along the way, she spotted a well-dressed man with an alert visage peering out from behind a bush. She acted as though she hadn’t noticed and only glanced back once to see another step out to set up an easel. Apparently the sketchalotsee had come. And by the looks of it, they had even brought the color crew with them.

            Nonetheless, she continued towards the lair of the lizard until she was at the mouth of his cave, and her heart beat faster than it ought to do. She paused long enough to calm her breath and then pressed on. Walking around the first bend, she stopped short at sight of the quarry. If possible, he was both adorable and beautiful. He had big, round eyes with short little blue horns over them to match his glossy dark wings folded down over a shimmering green body.

            He clearly hadn’t seen Jenna yet and was pawing at his loaded nose. Then he sneezed and out shot a small blaze of blue flame.

            Jenna walked a little closer. “Gesundheit!”

            He turned, evidently much startled. But his surprise was hardly equal to Jenna’s the very next moment when he spoke. “You know I could eat you?”

            “Whoa! You can talk.”

            “Of course, I can talk. That’s why we stopped eating sheep. Turns out mutton gives dragons laryngitis.”

            Jenna’s eyes grew wide. “No kidding?!”

            He solemnly shook his wide head before he recalled the start of their conversation. “Why don’t you run? I already told you I could eat you. Aren’t you scared?”

            “Oh, dragons don’t even like people. We don’t taste good.”

            Though he didn’t seem quite convincing, the dragon now rose menacingly and spread his great wings. “We’ll find out about that.”

            But as he started to stalk towards her, Jenna calmly disclosed a large apple strudel and held it out to him. “You don’t scare me; I have pastry.”

            His forked tongue shot out to grab it from her hand. But once he had it, he transferred it to his paws before chowing down introspectively. No sooner had he finished the first bite but he sat down and curled his tale around him in delight, wings settled back to his sides. He finished the strudel before speaking again, though his dark burgundy eyes remained settled on his uninvited visitor.

            Once he had licked every crumb from his talons, he announced, “I’m Snorg.”

            “Snorg? Hi, Snorg. I’m Jenna.”

            He crept a little closer. Jenna stepped back carefully, but he lunged forward and snatched the bag, quickly eating the remaining strudels.

            She smirked. “You liked them, I guess.”

            He nodded emphatically and wagged his tail. “I would like to stay with you.”

            “That’s nice. But I don’t know what I’d do with a dragon.”

            “I’d like to be useful. I’m very good at starting fires. Don’t you need a fire for anything?”

            She thought for a moment. Hmm. She had found a man. And bakeries did need fire. So she hatched a plan and shared it with Snorg.

            No sooner was the plan concocted than they began to execute it. They walked towards the mouth of the cave and then Jenna gave the signal. She picked up her skirts and ran out of the cave, calling, “Frank! Franklin von Fahrenpferd!”

            Snorg belched fire behind her and he sprang after her, wings outspread.

            At the sound of his name, Frank spun around to spot his damsel and sprung up onto Berg’s back, charging full speed ahead to slay the dragon by the sword.

            Unbeknownst to him, the sketchalotsee came out in full force behind him, capturing the events in all their detail.

            Just as Frank reached the scene of attack, Berg screeched to a halt, causing Frank’s helmet to fly off straight into Snorg’s open mouth. It became lodged securely in his unfortunate snout. His big eyes turned sadly to Jenna, imploring her who had gotten him into this dreadful position to help him out of it. So as Frank alighted to retrieve his helmet, Jenna helped Snorg out of his predicament, casting over her shoulder to Frank, “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

            He looked up from fetching his headgear, this time with the visor already down for once, and was astonished to see what she was about. He dashed to her side. “Miss Süsser! Be careful. He’s dangerous.”

            “Oh no he’s not.” She had now relieved Snorg’s poor jaw of its discomfort and gave him a couple sound pats on his scaly face. “I just thought if we put on a good show it would help out your career. The sketchalotsee are over there.” She pointed back to the swarm of easels and notepads being furiously covered by the sketchalotsee.

            Frank stepped back from the dragon and observed the recording host. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad or disappointed or what, so he just helped Jenna up onto Berg once more and then mounted himself. “Let’s get back to Curdwhey.”

            He turned his steed around and headed back north, making good time across the rocky outcropping and past Sungale Pond before he noticed an odd shadow attending them and glanced up in alarm to see the scaly source of it, bright white belly marking the sky.

            “Augh! What’s he doing here?”

            “He’s coming back with me. I want to start a bakery in the city, and as long as you come with me, I can say I found a man, and mother can’t help but let me go.”

            Frank didn’t seem as delighted with this news as one could have hoped. “But I am to be a knight.”

            “Yeah, about that. Why did you ever go into this knight business in the first place? You aren’t very good at it.”

            The knight errant’s face fell at this remark, and he glumly replied, “Because I’m the second son of the Baron von Fahrenpferd, and second sons have no portion.”

            “Isn’t there anything else you’d rather do?”

            “Well, I used to learn to forge from our blacksmith at home, but it wasn’t considered genteel enough. Being a knight, I could become a sir myself.”

            “Do you have to be genteel, or would being happy be good enough?”

            He glanced back at her. “Would being happy be good enough? Certainly it would. Are you going to help me out with that?”

            “Well Snorg’s going to light the fires for my bakery in town if you’ll be the man I found. I’m sure he’d tend the forge for your smithery too if you wanted to try that out.”

            “I guess I could give it a shot.”

            “Good. Let’s tell Ma first thing when we get back.”

            Accordingly, first thing that they got back to Curdwhey, they sought out Mrs. Süsser. But to the surprise of both, Mr. Süsser was there as well. Jenna greeted him with a hug and then supplicated him rather than her mother. “Pa, when you next go to town, can I come with you to set up my bakery? You know Ma’s stipulation that I must find a man first. Well, I found him, and here he is.”

            Mrs. Süsser beamed. “Do you mean to say that you are to be married?”

            “Oh, no! Just our dragon—that’s Snorg—will light the fires for the both of us, and our shops will adjoin, and Frank will take care of me.”

            Mrs. Süsser started to protest, but the merchant cut in with a laugh. “That’s true, my dear. I’ve always heard you say that if only she would first find a man, then she could go. Well here’s the man, and he seems willing.” He held out his hand to the man under discussion. “Mr. Süsser.”

            “Franklin von Fahrenpferd, but please call me Frank.”

            “Pleased to meet you, Frank.”

            The next week Mr. Süsser departed for town, Frank, Jenna, and Snorg following along, with Berg of course doing his duty too. By the time they reached Linden, the sketchalotsee had done their job so thoroughly that this little band was the talk of the kingdom, and when Jenna set up Jenna’s Snorgusborg Bakery right next to Frank ’n‘ Snorg’s Smithery, they had more business than they ever could have hoped for. True, there was often a great deal of consternation at mention of Frank ’n‘ Snorg prior to the parties named being met with, as the general impression was that Frankensnorg must be some horrid kind of monster. But once the hardworking smith and his faithful forge lighter and bellows were known, rare was it that a customer did not return. And if a job were a quick one, Jenna’s Snorgusborg often benefitted from the hungry tummy and time to kill of the patrons.

            Frank also happened to be known for making helmets where the visor would never fall of its own accord and the helmet was also very unlikely to come off your head by accident. However, the same patrons who were in need of these special services were generally the more difficult to placate once they realized a dragon kept the furnace.

            Outside of work, Frank and Jenna got on famously, going for dragon rides and playing cribbage late at night by the fireside. They were good friends, and Jenna often told Frank, “You’re pretty funny.”

            One day he was bold enough to suggest that perhaps they could try keeping company together. Jenna responded, “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”

            Frank’s heart soared for that confused moment. “Is it? Well then,” and he got down on one knee, “will you marry me?”

            Jenna was stupefied. “Oh! That’s what you meant. No, sorry, I just thought we were in each other’s company a lot. You’re a good friend and all, but I don’t think I’m ready for marriage.”

            “If it’s only a matter of not ready, then I’ll keep hoping, and we can keep company, and someday perhaps your answer will be different.”

            “You can keep hoping, but I’m not making any guarantees.”

            But that was enough for Frank at present, and that very night he began working on new signs to hang over their neighboring shops which would replace the current with simply “Frank and Jenna’s”. And then he bided his time as Frank ’n‘ Snorg with hopes of the day that there would be a Mrs. von Fahrenpferd.

THE END

Truffle Kerfuffle

          Please don’t trifle

With my truffles

          Lest it cause a great kerfuffle

          I need chocolate

For my whatsit

          But I’d rather not discuss it

          I shouldn’t have to hide it

So should you chance to spy it

          Just assume my stash is private

          Yes, I already feel much better

From the cocoa, cream, and butter

          For the decadence is utter

          It’s the cure for my thingy

I needed something sweet and creamy

          And I hope that you believe me

          Because when the couverture is melting

While the ganache’s taste is melding

          The flavors are blissfully compelling

          I’ve said too much already

I begin to feel unsteady

          For these morsels make me heady

          I may need an intervention

But I have no real intention

          Of deserting these confections

          So let’s not have a scuffle

If you just don’t touch my truffles

          We will have us no kerfuffles

          When you think about abundant life, has chocolate ever entered your thoughts? Obviously, this is a silly poem, but in all seriousness, I am really grateful for chocolate.

          And I don’t want to over-spiritualize chocolate here, but I do love James 1:17a that says, “Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights”. And that’s amazing. Whether it’s the blue skies up above, the good friend I get to spent the evening with, or the delicious chocolate morsel melting in my mouth, if it’s good, I have God to thank.

          Alright, so what’s the story behind this poem?

          Well, it starts with a cold, blustery day in the February of a Michigan winter. Picture a little lakeside town with cute shops along the sidewalk of the main drag and stepping out of your car to be met by a cutting wind. You snug your Stormy Kromer down a little more tightly on your head, raise the collar of your jacket and pull the zipper up a little farther. Hands crammed in your pockets and leaning into the wind, you start making your way down the sidewalk, glancing up every so often checking for the sign: Patricia’s Chocolate.

          And there it is – stylized red letters on a white oval suspended over the door at right angles to the street.

          You push against the door, and with the ringing of the bell, the wind and cold fade away, and you’re enveloped in the warmth of the kitchen and the scent of chocolate. As you step in, you spy a glass case with two levels of beautiful bon-bons. Each tray has dark brown squares of glossy chocolate, decorated colorfully according to flavor – fruits, spices, caramels, creams, wines, teas – a striking array of unique and tantalizing tastes.

          As you walk up, a smiling assistant asks if you’ve ever been there before. You say, no, and she offers for you to try some samples. Resting on the counter above are quartered squares of many of the varieties. As you choose the first exotic chocolate to sample, the girl behind the counter advises to let it melt on your tongue to appreciate the subtle notes of flavor. Tastes you recognize and some you’ve never had before tickle your palate with guilty pleasure as you sample several others and wonder how many you get to try before you make your final choices and shell out $2.50 apiece for the edible masterpieces. Having reached your internal tally, you pick out six flavors to go in the gift box: Ultra Dark and Cognac, Lemon Cardamom, Fortunato Very Dark, Early Grey Tea, Saigon Cinnamon, and Chocolate Caramel Creme.

          Then you get to choose your two ribbon colors – deep green and purple – the two favorite colors of the friend the chocolates are going to. The shop assistant rings up your order, you tender payment, receive an artistic arrangement of artisan confections, and burst back out into the cutting blades of frosty air. But this time, you’re not quite so cold. You pick up your head and smile, though the wind pulls tears from your eyes. This is a gift worth giving.

          That was my experience the first time I visited Patricia’s Chocolate. But it’s certainly not the only time I’ve been there. Since then, I’ve tried many of their wonderfully crafted exotic and unusual chocolate flavors and also some of their more typical flavors. And though Patricia’s Coconut, Fresh Mint Leaf, and Salted Butter Caramel truffles are certainly a cut above your average chocolate box sampler, a couple of my favorite varieties are still Ultra Dark and Cognac and Earl Grey Tea. But the Bourbon Maple and Peaches & Cream are right up there as well. And honestly, if you’re going to stop by a world class chocolatier’s shop, don’t you want to try something a little – or even very much – out of the ordinary?

          Now I go back every so often when I’m looking for something special and fun to gift to or share with a friend. And occasionally, a friend of mine makes me a present of these delectable concoctions, and I enjoy every last meltable morsel.

          The final piece of the story? I wrote this poem shortly after receiving a gift of truffles for my birthday and sent it to the friend I originally visited Patricia’s Chocolate for. Part of the reason it’s so silly is that it was meant to be the balance or the dessert to the other poem I sent with the letter:

‍

Right Balance

          There is beauty

          There is balance

In the way you lay out life

          But I wonder

          As I live it

If I will ever get it right

          I stay busy,

          Going crazy,

With the plans that I have made

          Then I feel guilty

          When I realize

I’ve left you little time within my day

          So help me please

          To carve out downtime

To rest my soul in you

          Like making dinner,

          It takes effort

But I’m nourished by the food

          I find beauty

          In this balance

Of peace in you and crazy life

          I stand in grace,

          Made confident,

Because Christ already got it right

          “Right Balance” is about resting in God and making time to walk in relationship with him even in the midst of a crazy, busy life. Like the friend I sent it to, I pack many of my days and weeks with plans that I have made. And a lot of them are good plans. They’re plans to be at church, to spend time with friends, to get out and be active, to buy groceries and make meals, to mow my lawn, etcetera. But just like making dinner often feels inconvenient but is ultimately a nourishing blessing, spending time with God can be difficult sometimes. Finding – or more likely, making – time within my day to dedicate to prayer and study and/or memorization of God’s word is sometimes a real struggle. But the joy, strength, and peace that come from communing with my creator are so worth the investment of time.

          Think about the life and ministry of Jesus. Remember what he was doing right before he walked on water? The reason he wasn’t with the disciples was because, Matthew 14:23, “After He had sent the crowds away, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray; and when it was evening, He was there alone.” Jesus, God in the flesh, needed to commune with his heavenly father. In John 5:30, he tells us, “I can do nothing on My own initiative. As I hear, I judge; and My judgment is just, because I do not seek My own will, but the will of Him who sent Me.” If Jesus could do nothing on his own initiative, should we try to?

          I also think of Martha. In Luke 10:38-42, we read, “Now as they were traveling along, He entered a village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. She had a sister called Mary, who was seated at the Lord’s feet, listening to His word. But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, ‘Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me.’ But the Lord answered and said to her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.’” There are a lot of good, worthwhile things we can busy ourselves with in life, but we’ll go crazy and find we don’t have much of anything left to give if we don’t surrender our time to God. And trust me: if we’ve surrendered our time to God, we’re going to be spending part of it with God consistently.

          So, I wrote “Right Balance” to God from a place of personal conviction and then sent it to a friend in hopes that she also could be encouraged by it. But I like to mix some fun and humor in with solemnity and depth; thus, “Truffle Kerfuffle” followed.

          And of course, I like cooking, baking, and knowing how things are made, so I had to spend a little time looking into the science of truffles. The ganache is the smooth center made of chocolate and cream at the least but possibly also butter and whatever infusion is producing the signature flavor. The outer casing is the couverture, where a finer grind in the chocolate processing, coupled with a higher percentage of cocoa butter, produce a shiny, smooth appearance ideal for putting the finishing touches on dessert masterpieces such as truffle ganaches.

          Alright, are you ready for the silliness? A frivolous dessert poem served up to savor:

‍

Truffle Kerfuffle

          Please don’t trifle

With my truffles

          Lest it cause a great kerfuffle

          I need chocolate

For my whatsit

          But I’d rather not discuss it

          I shouldn’t have to hide it

So should you chance to spy it

          Just assume my stash is private

          Yes, I already feel much better

From the cocoa, cream, and butter

          For the decadence is utter

          It’s the cure for my thingy

I needed something sweet and creamy

          And I hope that you believe me

          Because when the couverture is melting

While the ganache’s taste is melding

          The flavors are blissfully compelling

          I’ve said too much already

I begin to feel unsteady

          For these morsels make me heady

          I may need an intervention

But I have no real intention

          Of deserting these confections

          So let’s not have a scuffle

If you just don’t touch my truffles

          We will have us no kerfuffles

My Faithful Father

          When life held fewer hurts, I trusted

That God, my Father, would provide

          I did not fear the unknown future

Because the favor of the Lord was mine

          And I believed that he would prosper

The life I gave into his care,

          That wherever this life led me

I would find him faithful with me there

          So, I walked boldly without worry

In the confidence of faith

          But as life’s hurts added up with time

That perfect trust began to fade

          And I wondered if he heard me

If he listened to my prayers

          As I faced trials which shaped me

I felt the sorrow wasn’t fair

          And the confidence that goodness

Was my lot as God’s dear child

          Was swallowed in the knowledge

That this life is fraught with painful trials

          I suffered and lamented

And wept at where I was and what might be

          I groaned with all creation

But did not trust God’s plans for me

          I once said he was faithful

It was my favorite word for God

          But I ceased to say that in the heartbreak

I was discontented with my lot

          And God did not respond with coddling

The sorrows did not pause

          I cried out when words would come at all

And pled to know the cause

          I would have drifted far away

But my God would not let go

          He held me close and taught me truths

That I might have heard but did not know

          He showed me my unworthiness

And that my just deserts are death

          And revealed my own presumption

To think I know what ways are best

          I saw myself, a peasant

In the presence of the King

          But was raised to stand, adopted,

An heir with Christ to all good things

          And I laid down all I thought I brought

And called God faithful once again

          I struggled still to trust his plans for me

But delighted in him as my friend

          I yielded up the notion

That I was owed anything at all

          I walked on in endurance

Fearing to what I might be called

          But through it all, there sprinkled gladness

God has gifted me with joy

          He has tempered all the trials

With a childlike pleasure pain could not destroy

          And somehow, unexpectedly,

Just now comes back the trust

          That it shall indeed be well with me

My God is good and kind as well as just

          The riches of his glory

Shall supply my every need

          This place I’m in feels trapping

But my King shall set me free

          I couldn’t tell you what just happened

Perhaps my prayers at last broke through

          My God has graciously seen to it

That my trust in him has been renewed

          And I know he still has work to do

In making me like Christ

          But when I trust my faithful Father

The future is beautifully made bright

          I don’t know what is coming

But I hope and pray that it comes soon

          And in the waiting, I’m believing

That my God not just can but will rescue

          The hurts have not diminished

But God has rooted deep my faith

          I am content to know his favor

As he leads me in his ways

          All my life, my faithful Father,

You have led me by the hand

          Not in wilderness but friendship

You lead me to the Promise Land

          And my words are so inadequate

To convey my sense of deep wellbeing

          This intimate relationship

Is awe- and thanks-inspiring

          You will provide, my Father,

I confess the favor you have shown

          I walk with confidence, not worry,

Toward the future you have shaped and known

          I am loved; I stand redeemed

I am your child; you give me peace

          You hear my prayers; you are my rescue

You are my God, and I am pleased

          I once heard a pastor say that pain is a microphone. And what he meant by that is that when we face trials in this life, people start paying much closer attention to what we have to say.

          If my life seems to be going perfectly, you might listen out of curiosity to learn my secret, but more likely, you’ll just believe that I was dealt a better hand – luck of the draw. But if I’m hurting, if sorrow puts its mark upon me, then perhaps you’ll believe that I can understand your hurting. And if I rejoice in the midst of my sorrow, if I press on unbroken through it, you might also find hope to believe that you too can rejoice in the midst of sorrow.

          All my life, I’ve had a hard time opening up to people about what hurts me most deeply. Part of that has been because if people are the ones who hurt me, sharing with others how they’ve hurt me could easily turn into gossip. Part of that has stemmed from wanting to uplift and encourage those around me and thinking that sharing my lament might accomplish just the opposite. But I have been learning the lesson that vulnerability with others, especially in the area of sorrow, creates tremendous opportunity to glorify God.

          When I seek to present my life outwardly as one which is seamless, my immense need and deep dependence on God is obscured. But if I am willing to bare my soul, the Lord who loves me is exalted.

          I share this poem with you because of 2 Corinthians 1:3-8: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the same comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; or if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which is effective in the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer; and our hope for you is firmly grounded, knowing that as you are sharers of our sufferings, so also you are sharers of our comfort.”

          “My Faithful Father” is my reflection over the years of my life and the recognition that my God is absolutely trustworthy.

          The backstory then.

‍

          When life held fewer hurts, I trusted

That God, my Father, would provide

          I did not fear the unknown future

Because the favor of the Lord was mine

          And I believed that he would prosper

The life I gave into his care,

          That wherever this life led me

I would find him faithful with me there

          So, I walked boldly without worry

In the confidence of faith

          My life growing up wasn’t perfect – no one’s is – but for as much as I had some family members who hurt me, some friends who were unfaithful or less fully invested, my childhood was overall one of blessing and prosperity. I was deeply loved, encouraged to achieve, and successful in my academic endeavors. Though I changed schools a few times over the years, God always provided a few faithful friends to grow alongside. In fifth grade, we started attending a church that we would stay at through the end of my time in high school. I got involved with youth group and found out what it was like to really belong in a group of my peers. In eighth grade, I met the girl who is still my closest friend seventeen years later. We started studying the Bible and praying together.

          But the March before my high school graduation came the first sucker punch in life.

          I used to wonder when I someday met that special guy who I’d call my first – my Grandma Paul, my mom, or Anna. Well, in 2011, that decision was simplified.

          My grandma, who lived two miles away and was full of joy and mischief and love, was diagnosed with stage four kidney cancer. A month later, she was gone.

          And that was tragic. I hadn’t seen that coming. But Grandma had lived a full life in her sixty-five years. She had been married, raised two kids, blessed her five grandchildren with her enthusiasm and kindness. And even though I don’t think she would have chosen that time to go, she was ready for it – ready to be done with chronic pain and to be reunited with her stillborn baby boy. She was ready to be with her maker.

          And at this point, I grieved, but I trusted my God and his faithfulness.

          As I went forward into college and ended up changing schools and majors three times each in as many semesters, I lived in confident assurance that God would provide for me. The summer before the last change, I can still remember being halfway through the summer and having not yet received an acceptance letter to my now alma mater. But I wasn’t worried. And it wasn’t necessarily even because I believed that for sure I would be accepted. It was because I believed that God would guide my life. And if I wasn’t accepted to the university of my choice, he had something else in mind for me.

          At that time and into the following year, I would have said still that my favorite word for God was faithful.

‍

          But as life’s hurts added up with time

That perfect trust began to fade

          And I wondered if he heard me

If he listened to my prayers

          As I faced trials which shaped me

I felt the sorrow wasn’t fair

          And the confidence that goodness

Was my lot as God’s dear child

          Was swallowed in the knowledge

That this life is fraught with painful trials

          I suffered and lamented

And wept at where I was and what might be

          I groaned with all creation

But did not trust God’s plans for me

          I once said he was faithful

It was my favorite word for God

          But I ceased to say that in the heartbreak

I was discontented with my lot

          My first year at Michigan Tech, where I eventually graduated from, was crazy. I met some fantastic, lifelong friends. I dated a guy who stole my heart. I wrecked my four point. I changed majors…again. But even though things didn’t work out with that guy and some friendships got more complicated than I would have wished for, that’s just life. And still I proclaimed that God is faithful.

          And then my brother committed suicide. And that was when I stopped saying that my favorite word for God was faithful.

          But the irony is that God was incredibly faithful to me in the midst of me feeling like my world was falling apart. He gave me a summer at home where I had an easy internship that was self-guided and paid in lump sum. So, I was able to simply be outside and pray and think and hurt while also making financial headway and gaining some valuable life and job experience.

          And then I went back up to college, and God brought a family into my life through my church who welcomed me into their home just about every Sunday. Ten years later – and one unfortunate incident in a swamp – I still visit them several times a year, and they’re like family to me.

          The next couple years, I grew a lot. There were times I didn’t think I could stand being in college – times it felt lonely, times it felt pointless, times that God felt so far away, and I read my Bible and prayed in desperation to hear God’s voice telling me he was still there, that I was indeed his child.

          And I remember one night down at the campus park, Prince’s Point, overlooking the Portage River, I was praying and asking God who I was to him. And into my mind dropped the truth, “My child.” And I prayed again, wanting confirmation that it was God who was speaking. And then came the further truth, “Redeemed.” And I asked what he had for me. I wanted to know my calling, what job I should pursue. (Engineering has never set perfectly easy with me.) But the answer I received instead was “Peace.”

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          And God did not respond with coddling

The sorrows did not pause

          I cried out when words would come at all

And pled to know the cause

          I would have drifted far away

But my God would not let go

          He held me close and taught me truths

That I might have heard but did not know

          He showed me my unworthiness

And that my just deserts are death

          And revealed my own presumption

To think I know what ways are best

          I saw myself, a peasant

In the presence of the King

          But was raised to stand, adopted,

An heir with Christ to all good things

          And I laid down all I thought I brought

And called God faithful once again

          I struggled still to trust his plans for me

But delighted in him as my friend

          I yielded up the notion

That I was owed anything at all

          I walked on in endurance

Fearing to what I might be called

          I graduated summa cum laude, and within a couple weeks, I started my first full-time, non-internship engineering job. And within a few more weeks, I kind of hated it.

          I was lonely, and my work felt purposeless. I hadn’t found a good church. I didn’t have any friends in the area. There were a lot of nights I went home and cried. And I wanted so desperately for God to steer me in the way that I should go.

          Two and a half years later, I was learning to be content in the place I was in – not to say I was planning to stay forever, but I was growing in trusting my present and future to God. I remember standing in my kitchen cutting potatoes and hearing “Where I Am Right Now”, by Jared Anderson, come on the radio. And in that song it says, “I am called to be where I am right now.” And I was convicted. As time went by, I spent fewer nights crying and more time being thankful. A couple friends from college moved into the same general area after my first summer, and through volunteering and Bible study, I had a couple other good people in my life.

          And then God opened wide a door of opportunity to move into a new job in a nearby city. I never even had to apply to the position.

          But at that same point of transition in my life, my mom was retiring – and not because it was the time she wanted to but because she was having increasing difficulty with her job due to cognitive decline. At first, we thought she’d had a TIA – a mini stroke. But as her symptoms grew worse and she had various scans done, we learned she actually had FTD – frontotemporal dementia, a type of dementia that usually has its onset in a sufferer’s forties or fifties and typically runs its course in an average of eight years.

          Enter years of weeping.

          A year after my job change, I moved as well. I found a great church. I got more involved in activities outside of work. I made some wonderful friends. But my heart was heavy with sorrow. God named his people Israel because he expects and allows and I think even desires for us to wrestle with him.

          And I wrestled in these years. I wrestled with why a good and gracious God, who is a father to us, would allow the most wonderful, godly, patient, wise woman I knew to lose herself to the ravages of such an insidious disease. I missed our friendship. I missed her counsel. And I hurt for her hurting in a way that only someone who loves deeply can experience.

          There were nights I knelt beside my bed and cried, and all I could say was, “My God, my God! Help me please. Hold me!”

          And he did. He surrounded me with a little group of his people who loved me with his love. And he taught me that I deserve death, that I deserve hell, and that any goodness I experience is all his grace and his mercy and his love. And he showed me that was true for my mom as well. As good as she appeared to me from my human perspective, she was another sinner, and anything short of death in hell was God’s goodness and mercy to her.

          I needed to understand that God was still being just before I could again believe that he was faithful.

          When I saw my own unworthiness, as a peasant coming into the presence of a king of old, I began to understand the magnitude of what was offered me when the king reached out his hands to me and invited me to stand in his presence as his beloved heir.

          So, I trusted God’s character, and I pressed on with an eternal hope set before me but the fear in my heart that my mortal life would be one of pain and disappointment and unending loss.

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          But through it all, there sprinkled gladness

God has gifted me with joy

          He has tempered all the trials

With a childlike pleasure pain could not destroy

          Here’s the thing, though. Even when in my humanity I am too blind and disheartened to properly rejoice in the truth, God pours out gracious, generous love continuously.

          Though I was mourning, I had days of laughter and blessing. I did not cease to delight in the splendor of God’s creation or to thank him for the life-giving friendships he planted in my life. I danced and wrote and played and grew.

‍

          And somehow, unexpectedly,

Just now comes back the trust

          That it shall indeed be well with me

My God is good and kind as well as just

          The riches of his glory

Shall supply my every need

          This place I’m in feels trapping

But my King shall set me free

          I couldn’t tell you what just happened

Perhaps my prayers at last broke through

          My God has graciously seen to it

That my trust in him has been renewed

          And I know he still has work to do

In making me like Christ

          But when I trust my faithful Father

The future is beautifully made bright

          I don’t know what is coming

But I hope and pray that it comes soon

          And in the waiting, I’m believing

That my God not just can but will rescue

          The hurts have not diminished

But God has rooted deep my faith

          I am content to know his favor

As he leads me in his ways

          Nothing changed outwardly the day I wrote this poem. The day before, I had been talking with a friend who had been expressing the tendency to sometimes have a checklist mentality in her relationship with God and struggling to see him as a father. And then, as I walked a trail through the woods praying to my Father, I suddenly realized the enormous blessing of walking in relationship with my faithful Father.

          I was in a place of uncertainty, as I was about to take on a new role at work that I certainly wasn’t excited about. But as I had been praying a few weeks earlier about an even crazier job option and feeling hesitant to take a financial risk, the scripture that had dropped into my mind was Philippians 4:19: “And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory”.

          I didn’t want to be in the place I was in, and I was so tired of hearing people quote Romans 8:28: “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” The words felt glib and trite. I had by this time lost all but one of my grandparents, all the great-grandparents I had known, my brother, and my mother was dying. And my career was leading to discouragement and frustration. But oh, the glory of verse 29: “For those whom He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren.” The good God is working in my life is that I would be more like Jesus Christ.

          I love the promise of 1 John 3:2: “Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is.”

          And the day I wrote “My Faithful Father” I believed that God’s continuation of his good work in my life to make me more like Christ while I live here on this earth is sufficient good for me to experience in this life.

          The favor of the Lord is mine, for I am his child, and he is with me always.

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          All my life, my faithful Father,

You have led me by the hand

          Not in wilderness but friendship

You lead me to the Promise Land

          And my words are so inadequate

To convey my sense of deep wellbeing

          This intimate relationship

Is awe- and thanks-inspiring

          You will provide, my Father,

I confess the favor you have shown

          I walk with confidence, not worry,

Toward the future you have shaped and known

          I am loved; I stand redeemed

I am your child; you give me peace

          You hear my prayers; you are my rescue

You are my God, and I am pleased

‍

          As I walked in the woods that day, I reveled in the intimacy of my relationship with the great God of all creation. He knows me. He knows my hurts. And he loves me deeply.

          Hebrews 4:15-16: “For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weakness, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

          The Israelites wandered forty years in the wilderness in order to reach the promised land, but I walk in friendship with the great Creator.

          Now, before I wrap up, I want you to hear the heart of this poem in verses from the Bible.

From Psalm 1:1-3: “How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked…But his delight is in the law of the Lord…And in whatever he does, he prospers.”

John 16:33b: “In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”

I started out with the hope that I would prosper because my delight was in the Lord, and he has overcome the world. But then life got harder.

Romans 8:22-23: “For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.”

Creation is groaning under this burden of suffering and sin and brokenness, and I groan along with it. Fortunately, I have a God who will not let go.

John 10:27-29: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.”

Romans 3:23: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”

Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I and everyone else in all of humanity is guilty by God’s standard.

Isaiah 55:8-9: “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts.”

Luke 17:10: “So you too, when you do all the things which are commanded you, say, ‘We are unworthy slaves; we have done only that which we ought to have done.’”

And I came to the realization that I would not be able to fully grasp the enormity of the thoughts that God is thinking and that I owed him my service and surrender, my whole life, because of his kingship, his lordship.

John 1:12: “But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name”

I, the unworthy slave, have been adopted into the family of God.

1 Peter 1:8: “and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory”

Right now, I’m in the part of my life where I don’t see God – only the evidence of him, his fingerprints everywhere. And in that, I have great reason to rejoice.

Psalm 89:14: “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of Your throne; Lovingkindness and truth go before You.”

God does not let go of his justice, but his lovingkindness is likewise awe-inspiringly present.

Romans 5:1-5: “Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

I’m still working on the exulting in tribulations part, but I do exult in the love of God which has been poured out in my heart. I don’t think I ever would have seen it so clearly apart from the trials.

Isaiah 41:10: “Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

I have a rescuer who bears me up; why should I fear?

Colossians 2:6-7: “Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude.”

As my soul has become deeply rooted in Christ, contentment has been growing in my life.

Psalm 23:3b: “He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.”

Psalm 37:22a, 24b : “For those blessed by Him will inherit the land… Because the Lord is the One who holds his hand.”

The great God of highest heaven leads me by the hand in paths of righteousness. I am a child walking with my Father.

Ephesians 1:7: “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace”

I am redeemed through the love of Christ.

1 John 5:14: “This is the confidence which we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.”

And he hears my prayers because a good father cares about the heart of his children.

Psalm 16:11: “You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.”

My joy is made complete in the presence of my Father God.

My Faithful Father

          When life held fewer hurts, I trusted

That God, my Father, would provide

          I did not fear the unknown future

Because the favor of the Lord was mine

          And I believed that he would prosper

The life I gave into his care,

          That wherever this life led me

I would find him faithful with me there

          So, I walked boldly without worry

In the confidence of faith

          But as life’s hurts added up with time

That perfect trust began to fade

          And I wondered if he heard me

If he listened to my prayers

          As I faced trials which shaped me

I felt the sorrow wasn’t fair

          And the confidence that goodness

Was my lot as God’s dear child

          Was swallowed in the knowledge

That this life is fraught with painful trials

          I suffered and lamented

And wept at where I was and what might be

          I groaned with all creation

But did not trust God’s plans for me

          I once said he was faithful

It was my favorite word for God

          But I ceased to say that in the heartbreak

I was discontented with my lot

          And God did not respond with coddling

The sorrows did not pause

          I cried out when words would come at all

And pled to know the cause

          I would have drifted far away

But my God would not let go

          He held me close and taught me truths

That I might have heard but did not know

          He showed me my unworthiness

And that my just deserts are death

          And revealed my own presumption

To think I know what ways are best

          I saw myself, a peasant

In the presence of the King

          But was raised to stand, adopted,

An heir with Christ to all good things

          And I laid down all I thought I brought

And called God faithful once again

          I struggled still to trust his plans for me

But delighted in him as my friend

          I yielded up the notion

That I was owed anything at all

          I walked on in endurance

Fearing to what I might be called

          But through it all, there sprinkled gladness

God has gifted me with joy

          He has tempered all the trials

With a childlike pleasure pain could not destroy

          And somehow, unexpectedly,

Just now comes back the trust

          That it shall indeed be well with me

My God is good and kind as well as just

          The riches of his glory

Shall supply my every need

          This place I’m in feels trapping

But my King shall set me free

          I couldn’t tell you what just happened

Perhaps my prayers at last broke through

          My God has graciously seen to it

That my trust in him has been renewed

          And I know he still has work to do

In making me like Christ

          But when I trust my faithful Father

The future is beautifully made bright

          I don’t know what is coming

But I hope and pray that it comes soon

          And in the waiting, I’m believing

That my God not just can but will rescue

          The hurts have not diminished

But God has rooted deep my faith

          I am content to know his favor

As he leads me in his ways

          All my life, my faithful Father,

You have led me by the hand

          Not in wilderness but friendship

You lead me to the Promise Land

          And my words are so inadequate

To convey my sense of deep wellbeing

          This intimate relationship

Is awe- and thanks-inspiring

          You will provide, my Father,

I confess the favor you have shown

          I walk with confidence, not worry,

Toward the future you have shaped and known

          I am loved; I stand redeemed

I am your child; you give me peace

          You hear my prayers; you are my rescue

You are my God, and I am pleased

Something More

          Do you ever wonder deep inside

What more perhaps could be

          And wend down pathways in your mind

To find the things your eyes can’t see?

          Is there more to life than you have known

Maybe more than senses feel?

          Are these things you seek and find alone

Or what only faith can seal?

          I make the claim that what I touch

Is only life’s veneer

          For unspeakably there is too much

Your ears will never hear

          There are depths the heart alone can plumb

Secrets souls alone can comprehend

          These deeper truths compose the sum

Of all the blessings heaven sends

          As I begin my foray into the worlds of blogging and podcasting, I wondered if I should start by telling you a bit about me. But where to begin? Though it’s too soon to know what this adventure will morph into, my idea at the start is to give you a poem or a story in each post and then share the background, idea, and/or truths behind it – to share with you my inspiration and enthusiasm in hopes that it may also inspire you.

          And as I thought about it, “Something More” seemed to me to be the perfect introduction. Because this is the call of my heart. Psalm 19:1-2 says, “The heavens are telling the glory of God; And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands. Day to day pours forth speech, And night to night reveals knowledge.” The start of Romans 1:20 says likewise, “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made.” And Acts 17:25-27 records, “He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things…having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us”.

          Have you marveled lately at the beauty of this world? Have you looked up at the stars or watched the sunrise? Have you listened to the wind or felt the breeze?

          I wholeheartedly believe that this world is shouting out ceaselessly that there is a God of great power and beauty and order, mercy and love, and with each new day comes a fresh invitation to live in relationship with him.

          So, “Something More” is about that. It’s about a quest for meaning in a world that can be so tiring and confusing and about recognizing that the meaning we are searching for is found in God, is found in the incarnate Christ resurrected with nail-scarred hands, is found in the Spirit of all wisdom indwelling God’s people to equip them as effective ambassadors of the kingdom of heaven.

          It’s about the unseen world that we experience every day and about dreaming of things that could be or can’t be or should be or were.

          My background is in engineering, so when I watch the waves crest and break at the beach, I think about the surface tension of water and the high-polarity attraction of H₂O molecules. And I praise God all the more for the minutiae of his creation. Whether we look at the awe-inspiringly large or ponder the invisibly small, we meet God at every turn.

          I praise God for laughter and beauty and friendship and love. There is music in this natural world that is meant to make us dance.

          This is a challenge and an invitation to live an abundant life, to believe that there is a God and that he is good and worthy of worship, that people have souls and are worth investing in, and that we are meant to work alongside God in cultivating a world that exhibits his glory.

          Come into laughter then, come into dreams. Enter sorrow and heartbreak, but banish despair.

          And what of me? Who is your host?

          I am a redeemed child of God. I am a partaker in extraordinary friendships. I am an old soul with a young heart, a country girl, a poet, a storyteller.

          And what else do I say? I’m not big into things, and I don’t have a TV, but there are notebooks and journals and looseleaf scraps of poetry multiplying in my house by the year. I like to explore creeks, hike in the woods, and climb rocks. I have a favorite shade tree to read and write and dream under. Folk, ballroom, and Latin dance are growing hobbies of mine – emphasis on East Coast swing. I enjoy trying out new dishes, both savory and sweet. I geek out on holistic and natural health and personality typology on the side. I run a Christian social group for twenties and thirties in my area. But most importantly, I am a follower of Jesus Christ and happiest simply spending time with the people I love – sharing stories, projects, food, adventure, joys and sorrows.

          I’m sure I left out a zillion things, but if you stick around, you’ll learn more about me as we go. In the meantime, I invite you to come along on this adventure of Something More.

          Do you ever wonder deep inside

What more perhaps could be

          And wend down pathways in your mind

To find the things your eyes can’t see?

          Is there more to life than you have known

Maybe more than senses feel?

          Are these things you seek and find alone

Or what only faith can seal?

          I make the claim that what I touch

Is only life’s veneer

          For unspeakably there is too much

Your ears will never hear

          There are depths the heart alone can plumb

Secrets souls alone can comprehend

          These deeper truths compose the sum

Of all the blessings heaven sends