Commitment

How commited are we in North America? What are we willing to do, give or surrender for what we believe? I would like to pass along these words from a young African martyr wrote these words before he died. I don’t know his name or the source.

“I’m part of the fellowship of the unashamed. The dye has been cast, I have stepped over the line, the decision has been made. I’m a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won’t look back, let up, slow down or be still.

My past is redeemed, my presence makes sense, my future is secure. I’m finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving and dwarfed goals.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I won’t shut up, let up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up for the cause of Jesus Christ.

I must go until He comes, give till I drop, preach till everyone knows, work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He will have no trouble recognizing me because my banner will be clear.”

What more can I say?

Why write a book?

How long ago is it since I started thinking about writing a book? Was it on my bucket list? Do I even have a bucket? Was it in the stars or was it by God’s design? As I look back over certain events or choices of my life I often ask myself, “Why did you do that?” At one time we lived on a mountain side. The children and I decided to climb that mountain. Why? For no other reason than it was there. It was too much for these would-be mountaineers. We were equipped with lunch and water, beyond that we lacked knowledge, skill, equipment or understanding of the task before us. Braving bramble bushes, climbing over fallen trees and sliding on loose rocks we struggled onward and upward. It was dusty and hot as the sun added to the challenge. Did we reach the top? Not quite. What we had never noticed from below was that the last bit was almost vertical and in order to plant our flag on the very top we would have to go, not upwards, but sideways and probably around the back side of the mountain, which by this time we were reluctant to do. Even though our expedition was not completed, we had given our best effort and when we sat down to rest we looked down and behind us to view a spectacular view of our valley. We forgot all about our scratched faces, hands and arms and bloodied knees as we soaked in the reality of how far we had come. In spite of our many shortcomings, we had risen to a challenge and it was enough.

As I was writing “The Vine”, I asked myself whether I was “exercising myself in matter too great for me”. Of course the answer was “I am”. God’s assignments are always too big for us to do on our own. The subject before me was, in my estimation, far, far beyond my intelligence, knowledge, skill or experience. But the things most worthy writing about are all “too wonderful for me…things so high I cannot attain to them”, nor can anyone who measures himself against the greatest experience and wisdom of Christ in God. Yet I write, drawing on the wisdom, experience and testimony of others with the hope that still others along the trail will in their searching, be glad to find a few treasures that have made my heart glad. Contemplating to attempt writing a book I came across a Chinese proverb that said if you have been given some knowledge you are obligated to pass it along. With that and many other encouragements along the way I persevered to bring it to completion. It was my personal mountain.

Uncommon Sense

Last blog led me to further thoughts. Christmas in July? Unbelieving people say Christianity makes no sense. Why would the Magi follow a star for two years? Makes no common sense. For a virgin to have a child does not meet with common sense. For the shepherds to find a King in a cattle stall does not make common sense. That the One crucified would live again was not common sense.

But common sense is so often mistaken. Although, as human beings, God gave us limited sense, he has also endowed us who believe with His spirit by whom we call him Father. With God as our Father, we as his children, are royalty. We are no longer ‘commoners’ with only common sense. We are now his priests and princes – we are the aristocracy of God with uncommon, extra-ordinary sense that comes by faith in the very One born in the manger.

In Isaiah 9 we find the verse that says “the people who lived in darkness have seen a great light.” That same light has shined into our darkness and those who acknowledge Jesus as the Christ enjoy the uncommon benefits of his light – wisdom, knowledge, understanding, purpose and hope – all of these and much more come to the serious believer and give him great understanding which gives him uncommon sense about the affairs of man and the world.

When Jesus came he said, “I am the light of the world.” On the sinner’s repentance and acceptance by faith He brings light into the heart. He is born in the hearts of the people. Every time a person receives Christ into the rough and unfriendly stable of his heart, Jesus is born again. He expects us to receive him into all we do so that he may become fully formed in us. We are bearing his light in the world. Common sense does not get this.

In the Christmas carol, O little town of Bethlehem, the third verse says, “How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven. No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in. O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray’ cast out our sin and enter in; be born in us today.” This transaction goes far beyond common sense.

It isn’t far to Bethlehem town – its anywhere that Christ is invited in, finding in someone’s inviting face a welcome and an abiding place. The road to Bethlehem runs right through the hearts of people like me and you. Its not common sense to receive Christ but it is an uncommon event when God says “To as many as received Him, to them he gave the power to become sons of God.
No longer commoners.

Thoughts from my journal

There’s an old song that starts, “O list to the story that never grows old….” This is the story of Jesus’ birth. We can read the account of Jesus’ birth over and over and yet we can always learn more new things. Luke 2:21-24 tells of Jesus’ circumcision on the eighth day. It came to my attention that Mary would not have been present at the circumcision because she had to follow the rules of purification before being allowed into the temple. After the birth of a son there was a waiting period of forty days before women could reenter the temple. After the birth of a daughter it was necessary to wait fourteen days and then sixty six days before she could reenter the temple. (Lev. 12:2-8) Consequently, Mary and Joseph had to wait another thirty three days after circumcision before they were able to present Jesus to the Lord before Simeon. I had read this section before and knew the details of purification but somehow I had never separated the two events meaning that Mary and Joseph remained in Jerusalem all that time.

“The birth of Jesus is the sunrise of the Bible. Towards this event all the aspirations of the prophets and the poems of the psalmists were directed just like flowers turning their faces toward the dawn. From this point in history a new day began to flow very silently over the world.” – a sunrise of faith, a sunrise of freedom and a sunrise of hope and love.

“When we remember the high meaning that has come into human life because of Jesus’ birth and the clear light of the good news that has flooded down from the manger-cradle in Bethlehem, we do not need to wonder that mankind has learned to reckon history from the birthday of Jesus, and to date all events by the years before or after the nativity of Jesus Christ.” From that birthday, the dating of history goes backward into eternity and the dating of future history after Jesus’ birth goes forward into eternity. Someone has written, “Even the centuries obey Him and wing their orbits around his cradle and date their calendar from His birth.” Selected.

“Jesus Christ was born in the meanest circumstances but the air above was filled with the hallelujahs of the heavenly hosts. His lodging was a cattle pen, but a star drew distinguished visitors from far away to do him homage. His birth was contrary to the laws of life and his death was contrary to the laws of death. No miracle is so inexplicable as His life and teaching. He had no cornfield or fisheries but he could spread a table for five thousand and have bread and fish to spare. He walked on no beautiful carpets but He could walk on water. His crucifixion was the crime of all crimes but on God’s side no lower price than his infinite agony could have made possible our redemption. When He died few men mourned but a black crepe was hung over the sun. Though they did not tremble for their sin, the earth shook beneath the load of our sin on his innocence. All nature honored Him and responded to his agony. Bur sinners rejected Him and turned away. Sin never touched Him – this child of Bethlehem. Corruption could not get a hold of His body. The soil at the foot of the cross had been reddened by his blood but the soil of the grave would not claim His dust. Three years he preached the Gospel. He wrote no book, built no church, had no money. After 2000 years He is still the central figure in human history and the perpetual theme of all true preaching. The picot around which the events of the ages revolve – the only Regenerator of the human race.”

Lesson from a Wren

Continured:
With the bikes gone we needed something tall enough for the vine leap and we needed something that would provide small steps for her at the bottom instead of the spokes. I pulled my tall lawn chair under the birdhouse, near to the vine and then I took a wooden, folding lawn chair that had rungs, leaning it against the other lawn chair. Would she figure out the ladder we had in mind?
In no time she availed herself of the improvistion and continued her chores without missing a beat.

Predictably precise in her actions, we watched as she made her way to the nest with her bits of food. Each time emerging with a nestling’s dropping – house-keeping, no less! As she exited the birdhouse, a dropping in her beak, she fluttered down to a sunflower in the garden and there ceremoniously dropped it and proceeded to scavange for more food among the vegetables. By now the babies were getting to the stage of peeking out of the hole and often the adult wren could not even enter the birdhouse but fed the babies from the outside of the hole.

For the next week or ten days we observed their unswerving faithfulness to the brood. We also noticed that the injured bird seemed to be getting stronger. Her wing was not drooping as it had and her flights to the ground seemed to be more controlled. Was her wing actually healing? Before she could flutter downward, now she could manage short flights upwards to a post or wire. We don’t know the rest of the story. One Sunday afternoon we were away and when we came home they were all gone.

We missed this busy little family in our carport. We have not seen any of them since but will remember the lessons we learned from our little wren. Where there is a will there is a way. I will always remember the wren’s lesson of tenacity and perseverance and hope that I would employ those strong character qualities as I face the challenges in my life, and in the same way that we worked with the wren to solve her problem we can work together building ladders to help those around us who may have a problem as well.

Lesson from a Wren

Continued:
One morning as I sat in the sunroom, not particularly watching, I noticed a movement on the carport floor. There was a wren. I will say ‘she’, but you can’t really tell, was hopping from underneath the lawnmower, over to a bike parked there. She hopped up the wheel spokes, zig-zagging her way up to the fender. From there she side-stepped along the cross bar and up onto the handle bars. From there she kept glancing up to a small vine in a hanging basket. By now it was obvious to me that she was having difficulty flying and was trying to figure out some other way of getting home with her food. She hopped to the left handle bar and then to the right and back again, sizing up the distance of her next leap. Finally she decided the right handle bar was closest. She fluttered clumsily to the vine and missed, falling to the floor. Not to be deterred, she resumed the exact climb again. This time she managed to flutter to the vine, grabbing hold of it she then clambered up the wires of the plant hanger, skipped across the birdhouse roof and into the hole. After having fed the babies, she would flutter down to the grass or into the garden near by. Interesting development. I had questions. What had happened to bring about this change in behaviour?

Later, I was sitting in a lawn chair near the garden, when I noticed the wren again. She came hopping out of the garden with bits of food in her beak, and proceeded to hop across the grass, to the shelter of the lawnmower, over to the bike, zig-zagged up the spokes, side-stepped across the cross bar, up onto the right handle bar, the short flight to the vine, up the wires, across the roof and into the birdhouse.

I remained sitting and watching for some time, and during the next half hour she repeted this exact ritual about seven or eight times. When my husband joined me, I told him to watch as I commentated the whole procedure to the second. She never missed a beat.

Obviously injured, unable to fly properly, we were amazed at the tenacity and perseverance of this little bird. She improvised and indefatigably and persistently pursued the care of her nestlings. Not only did she display amazing loyalty to her task in spite of her infirmity, we marveled at her ingenuity to employ these otherwise foreign objects to get the job done.

This scenario continued all day Sunday. Without concern for her lifeline, Monday morning we both left for work on our bikes. At noon we came home to realize we had taken away all her props. Would she be back? Had we wrecked the plan? All afternoon my bike was there, parked under the birdhouse, but mine is a ladies’ bike, a little smaller with no cross bar. Would this deter her? I made sure the bike was placed right near the birdhouse and the trusted little vine. If she was as smart as we thought, she would soon figure it out. And she did.

All of a sudden she showed up and immediately she noticed that something was different. At first she hopped around looking at the bike from all angles but cautiously, she tried her zig-zags on the spokes, up to the fender – but now how? No cross bar. She fidgeted a little worried but before long she was side-stepping down and up the slanted frame, up the right handle bar and from there she had to assess the leap because it now was a little longer than yesterday. But she flexed her little legs a couple of times and managed the leap successfully again and faithfully delivered her offerings.

Tuesday morning we needed both bikes again but this time we were thinking about Mrs. Wren and her dilemma. How could we improvise for her so she could get to work too? Could we depend on her to work with us on a new design ladder?
(See next instalment)

Lesson from a Wren

Somewhere along the way we acquired a simple wood birdhouse. Setting up house in our new home in Forestburg, I had hung the birdhouse on a hook in the carport alongside the hanging plants. In my effort to find a spot for everything in our new home, hanging the birdhouse was simply getting it out of the way in an over-crowded garage – at best an outside adornment rather than a conscious invitation to feathered friends.

No sooner was the birdhouse in place, that we were graced by the arrival of a couple of ambitious house hunting wrens. The female perched herself nearby and watched as her male counterpart pursued an ambitious nest building project. It is the male that builds the nest and this one was no weekend warrior. Full of spring energy, he carried twigs to his new house. Day after day, small twigs, large twigs, all were professionally poked into the hole. Occasionally his judgment was a little off as he maneuvered the twig this way and that to get it in.Sometimes he dropped it in the process and he had to start over. The female was in the nest and upon examination of his work she would periodically fire out a twig that wasn’t to her liking. After a week or so, a substantial pile of rejected twigs appeared on the carport floor. We were told that if she is not pleased with his construction, that another place must be chosen and he has to start all over. However, this female seemed to be satisfied with her male’s job.

Not long after, the house, feathered to her liking, became quiet. She was laying her eggs. Not much commotion these days. He stands guard by making sure that all trespassers are warned to keep their distance. It became quite obvious to sparrows, robins and blue jays that this back yard was off limits. The male wren showed his feisty nature as he contested any bird that happened to violate his sanctum. Even we humans were subjected to his rebukes as we tended our chores.

Then came the day of the hatchling’s arrival. No sounds at first but the adults became very busy carrying morsels of food into the birdhouse. From morning till night they flew back and forth. Their hunting and gathering followed an observable routine across the garden to the neighbor’s hedge, across the lane to high poplars, over the garage to the evergreens and sometimes around the house to find insects in the elms. Tiny bits of food at first for tiny, tiny babies. Gradually, the food became larger, not less frequent but obvious moths, insects and worms. As the babies grew they started to peep wildly as they heard the parents approaching with food. The wren’s light landing near the birdhouse was enough to set the whole brood twittering. Once fed all was still while the parents foraged for more.

We could see all this from the unobtrusive safety of our sunroom. One day my husband, who had become quite a bird watcher, noticed that there seemed to be only only parent flying and bringing food. Its hard to tell the male from the female but it did appear that it was now only one adult carrying food. Could something have happened to the other one?(See next instalment.)

Great People

My homework has not been getting done. I’m behind in my blogs. Its June and life happens. Catch up time.
This will be a rewrite of a quote, and I am sorry I don’t know where it came from. “Great people open themselves to scrutiny. They deliberately make themselves vulnerable and public. They submit to examination by themselves and others. Great people will know him/herself. Know how to hold the tongue – be careful not to speak evil of anyone, to not gossip, nor to reveal secrets. Great people need not put on airs. They are whatever they are in daylight or in darkness, alone or before a multitude. Great people will acknowledge an error and ask forgiveness for any hurt. Great people see not only what is near but envision things not yet arrived at. Great people will not trouble themselves with small matters but give themselves to that which deserves care and attention. That which deserves care and attention may be a loving, patient mate or a child in whom they see a budding future and the small matters may be the futile riot in the street. Great people will see themselves as extensions of One Greater than themselves. They will acknowledge their frailty and lift high the Name of the One they owe their life and talents to. Great people will do the right thing and that is their reward.”

The Bible – special revelation

My sister-in-law collects Royal Doulton figurines. These southern belles wear romantic flowing silk and satin gowns, blue and pink and white. Viewing the intricate, lacy detailing all around with sparkling gems they gleam in exquisite glazing. The scriptures, like a perfect porcelain figurine, can also be turned all around and its perfect designs can be viewed from every angle. The Bible stands perfect in imperial posture. It moves across time, as though it does not move at all, yet it graces all who adore it. The face of God smiles through it amicably, sometimes frowning, but always maintaining strong and perfect, constant serenity. The physical presentation of its words beautifully dressed, infinitely pure and true and faithful – infinitely polite like a gentleman even in addressing the lowest of humanity, calling ‘whosoever will may come!” The perfection of manner comes only from heavenly aristocracy. Occasionally, when beheld in cool aloofness, the scriptures appear marionettic to those who are too proud or too busy. The scriptures if met by an ordinary man, can be most agreeable or instead, can be excruciatingly sharp with those who think themselves above it. But no one can argue with a work of art.

The scriptures, though perfect in manner and aristocracy sees no need to patronize but joyfully meets us at our individual level letting each man know that he is infinitely loved and valuable. Someone has said that the Bible is God’s love letter to mankind and indeed, its pages are replete with his voice constantly calling mankind into fellowhship. God want to reveal himself to man.

The Scriptures are appointed as the vehicle of special revelation. These revelations afford us sufficient and necessary knowledge of God – belief in God and his reality has its firm basis in the whole nature and being of man. “…because what may be known of God is manifest in them for God has shown it to them. For since the creation of the world HIs invisible attributea are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse.” (Rom. 1″19-21) The scriptures assume the fact that since “God lights every man that comes into the world,” that all men have the capacity to recognize the existence of God and so it is seldom accentuated in the Bible.

The scriptures are God’s special revelation which declare the salvation God provided in Jesus Christ as well as reiterating the truth proclaimed in nature, history and man himself. Rational proofs can be drawn from nature, from history and from man’s condition. These should bring to us a general revelation. But it is seldom recognized.

Excerpt from “The Vine” – The Church in Mystery

In Old Testament times God showed himself to those who were pure in mind. To Abraham God came as three visitors and the ram in the thicket. Moses met the Divine King on the mount as he received the commandments. They (Hebrew children)all saw God revealing his presence in the cloudy pillar by day and the pillar of fire by night. The sixth beatitude says, “Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.” Following the thought that ‘holy men of God spoke as they were moved,’ we find Jacob blessing his sons Judah and Joseph with prophetic words concerning the coming Saviour. To Judah he predicts Christ’s advent, reaffirming the Seed of Genesis 3:15. To Joseph the prophecy continues: “From there is the Shepherd, the Stone of Israel.” Old Testament saints spoke of Christ as recorded by Peter. Peter reminds the people of Isaiah who spoke of the ‘cornerstone, elect and precious’, of the ‘stone which the builders rejected’ in Psalms. But the mystery was beyond expressible words.

The burning bush, the Rock that followed them, the manna, the still small voice and the bronze serpent and countless other figures where Chist is with them, a phantom, a mystery that is not explained. If I can be so bold to say that these figures and symbols were the DNA of the embryonic church yet to be born out of the Old Testament womb. The righteous people of Old Testament acted according to the teaching of the cross hidden in the figures and the symbols of the Tabernacle and thus by their faith they experienced the mystery of Christ and the coming church.

Those who believed God and walked with him like Noah and Abraham, pleased God. Abraham believed God and it was counted to him as righteousness. Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord. They knew the mystery that is Christ’s grace. They had an intelligence of intuition that was distinguished from sense perceptions. The ‘nous’ is not a function of the soul which formulates abstract concepts by which to reach a conclusion achieved by deductive thinking. It is a ‘knowing’ – an ability to comprehend spiritual or material realities on account of the soul’s constitution and its relationship to God. Old Testament people had the ‘knowing’ but the connecting link was a mystery.