But They Did it... and I'm Grateful...

      I read all the time as all my friends know.
      When David was a baby, I once realized I was carrying him half draped over my arm, drool running out of his little mouth, while I was fussing over  a book in a bookstore - the book had been placed upside down on the shelf....   Yes, it's that bad for me sometimes... Ha!
      I've heard it said that books are like old friends and for me there is a lot of  truth in that.  Most of the books I read simply occupy my thoughts for a brief time and then are forgotten.  However, there are some stories which standout, books that I return to again and again.  Over the past couple of years, these are the books that have become like friends to me.

     Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis.
     In the Land of Blue Burqas by Kate McCord.
     Which None Can Shut by Reema Goode
    Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus by Nabeel Qureshi
    Unveiling Grace by Lynn Wilder

     The first three books are written by Christians who have lived or  who are living overseas and I found them fascinating because I love to read about other cultures.  But that's not why the books have become like treasured friends to me.
     It's because those three women, two of which have to use pseudonyms, loved Christ enough to follow Him to what could easily pass for the "ends of the earth" to  comfort-loving, thoroughly Westernized  me.           We have the expression: put your money where your mouth is.  These women have done that and in the process of following Christ way beyond their comfort zones, they have seen Him high and lifted up, standing out against the backdrop of a culture that has been made callous by poverty, by war, and/or  a culture that just doesn't recognize the right of Christians to exist and flourish.  The darkness they've encountered has only made the Jesus they know shine brighter than ever.  Who could not love the Jesus they know and serve?  And who could not love the people who have captured their hearts?
    Nabeel Qureshi's book and Lynn Wilder's book are set against the backdrop of the United States but again, they describe cultural and religious beliefs which are a bit foreign to me as well as fascinating to me.  The first part of each book takes me inside the world they used to live in and enables me to see exactly why they loved their "former life".  They didn't want to leave the religion and culture of their family and friends but they had to.  Because the Jesus of the Bible drew them to Himself and they found that the Biblical Jesus was not compatible with the Jesus they had been taught.
    The process of leaving the safety of a revered and much loved set of beliefs, in fact a whole way of life, in order to cast themselves solely on the Bible was not an easy one. In fact it was a long, hard process for Nabeel and for Lynn and they each lost a lot in that process.  However, they both have the same message: knowing the Christ of the Bible is worth it all.
    Having been raised in Christianity, it is easy for me to take things for granted about my faith, to subconsciously develop a "gimme" attitude towards God because I've lost the wonder and awe of knowing this amazing truth: for God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son for us - so that we would not perish but instead would have everlasting life with Him.
   I love each and every book listed above and have read all of them or parts of them more than once. I've also listened to their testimonies on Youtube and been greatly  blessed by those as well.
   But I have to say that the book I keep going back to the most is Unveiling Grace.  There is something about Lynn's enthusiasm and sheer joy in finding the Jesus of the Bible that continues to captivate me and inspire me.  Each time I re-read the last part of her book, I see Jesus and the Bible through her loving eyes and it's just made a big difference in my own walk with Christ.
   The bottom line is that I owe a great deal to all five of these authors and look forward to hearing their entire stories in Heaven some day.  Meanwhile, I would be remiss if I did not publicly say thanks to these authors for what they have done for me in sharing their stories.  I know it wasn't easy for them to do any of the things they've done and certainly it wasn't easy (or in a couple of  cases) safe to write out their stories. But they did it... and I'm grateful.

Boasting...

      Today there is joy in my heart...
      The house is a total mess... I'm pretty confident I'll never get my summer cleaning, re-arranging, throwing away, giving away project done... My house is waaaayyy too small for all the stuff we have accumulated (and keep accumulating...) and for several weeks now I just keep pulling more things off the shelves in various rooms in an effort to streamline our eclectic possessions.
      And I have dirty laundry that just keeps on giving... and giving...and giving... and giving....
      I have two dogs who slip out of our fence every time the batteries in their shock collars go out... which happens to be the case this week. So until we get more batteries, I have Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee doing time in our laundry room, plotting their next escape I'm afraid, instead of repenting from their sins... ha!  They are loved pets but they also guard our property so we need them...
      I have a hard-working husband who feels pressured by his job, works long hours for little pay, and is uneasy about  the intermittent pain in his back.   As a mechanic, pain in the back can be a serious hindrance to work.   Right now we're thankful that as long as he does his exercises, the pain goes away.
     We have  a grown son who is a good person but who doesn't always make the decisions I would make for him. It's hard to let go and just stand back and watch while he finds his way in the world.
    I have neighbors who are wonderful and neighbors who are one step ahead of the police.  Last night I met with some of the sweetest people in the world for our monthly  Neighborhood Time of Prayer.   I love each person in that group.  On the flip side of that coin, another neighbor got arrested last week.  He has a pleasant personality and a generous spirit. However he's also the one who celebrated Christmas 2012 by setting off a pipe bomb a few yards from our house.  I don't think he means to hurt anyone, he just likes guns and loud noises.  Still, that's kind of a dangerous hobby....  Since he was on probation when he got caught shooting a shotgun in our neighborhood for fun, he will be off the streets for a couple of months.  I am praying God will use this time to change his heart, re-direct his life.  So, yes, I have neighbors who are wonderful and some who are not so wonderful...
    I have faithful friends who pray for me -one in particular who lets me cry on her shoulder in public, who is always there for me.   I have other people in my life -  extended family members, former friends - who drive me crazy with their choices, their eccentricities.    Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, praying for a loved one who is so headed down the wrong path.  I can see the train wreck coming but I can't prevent it.  I've found 3 a.m. is a good time to pray...
    I have pain almost daily from geriatric knees and as I approach 60, I don't know what the immediate future holds.  I didn't know what the future held when I was 20 either, but as I enter my sixth decade the possibilities seem a little less appealing than when I was young... ha!
    In addition to all that, we aren't rich by any means.   One big expense could wipe us out, truly.  We don't have a big bank account or a house worth a lot of bucks.
    But this morning I woke up with joy in my heart.
    And that's because Jesus lives in my heart and He is enough!
 
  9And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 10Therefore 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.
                                                                            II Cor. 12:9-10
 

Because He Is Strong... and I Am Not...

What is on my mind this rainy Thursday morning?
Something I'm not even sure I can express, although my heart is longing to. But I don't think print on screen will be adequate.

 However...here goes....

This morning in my Bible study on Hebrews, I saw these things. First, Hebrews 4:14-16 says that Jesus, our High Priest, is able to understand our weaknesses... Why? Because He has been tempted in every way that we could be - I thought about the forty days He spent in the wilderness and, yes, I am sure that He was tempted in every possible way. Because He knows what it feels like to be tempted, He can extend mercy to us. Truly He understands.

But the passage goes on to say that although He was tempted, He never gave in. He was strong. So much stronger than any mere human could ever be. He is King Jesus, come to earth disguised as one of us, slumming if you will... He walked among us, felt the vicissitudes, the pressures, the heartaches, the deep sadness, and the betrayals of life. Yet He never sinned.

And so I am cleansed, forgiven. "Because Jesus has taken the beating..." as Lisa put it...

And then, in my study book, Lisa Harper asked this question:
"What sin do I most regret God's assigning to Christ's resume so that I could be pronounced righteous?" 
The reference to this question is found in II Cor. 5:21 -
He made Him
         who knew no sin
                    to become sin
                           on our behalf....

And so the question stands:
What sin do you most regret that God had to assign to Christ so that you could be pronounced righteous?

Because He has taken my beating for the things I've done that even now can make me cringe... Prolonged times of anger, bitterness, whining, unforgiveness, longing for the leeks and garlics of another day, another time, being dissatisfied with His grace - the list goes on and on.

Because He took my beating for each and every one of those things and so much more, I love Him.

Jesus Christ, the One and only, the once and forever High Priest who offers me nothing but grace and mercy. Who, because He is strong - never weak - is able to save me, strengthen me, uplift me, and keep me.

ON this rainy morning, I am humbled and grateful.
Right now it would be impossible for me to start this day without publicly saying, "King Jesus, I love You."
May it be so every morning....

Sometimes It's Scary...

     It takes heart to live in the 'hood which is ironic because the "soil" around here just naturally chokes out compassion.
     A couple of weeks ago, a strange woman turned up on my doorstep.  She looked decent so I hesitantly opened my door. We had talked for a few seconds before I realized the woman used to live across the street from me; that I had last seen her about 11 months earlier, that I had talked with her numerous times. I simply didn't recognize her at first.
    She had a car that needed serious repair work, no gas money, no shelter, no job, and she also no longer had her little boy.  She had lost everything; was sleeping in her car at night and had dropped from about a size 10 dress to a size 3.
     She was never one to ask for anything at all.  She was one who had grown up in foster care but who had read a lot and thought deeply about the type of upbringing she wanted for her own child.  She cared deeply for her little son and carefully monitored his stages of development, deriving pleasure from each new skill that he acquired.  She was determined that he would have a good life.
    The woman who stood on my doorstep was not only childless, she was greatly subdued.  She wasn't the confident person I had known just a year earlier.  As I listened to her, the thought crossed my mind that life had beaten up on her.
    I followed her to a gas station where I put some gas in her car and then I led her to a Christian community center where she received some food and a change of clothes and some basic necessities like tooth paste and shampoo.  The director talked to her compassionately yet directly.  He verbally walked her through her options and told her that everything depended on whether she would follow up on his advice.
    She didn't.
    She never called us or the director; never came back the next day when the center was fully operational to connect with people who could help her overcome any addictions and also find work.  I was saddened by this but not surprised. In the brief time I talked to her, my gut instinct said  that she hadn't hit bottom yet.
    Whenever I think of her now, I say a prayer for her, asking God to watch over her where ever she is.
    She didn't say much while we were at the center, but one thing she did say has haunted me ever since.  When the director asked her point blank where she was sleeping, she quietly said, "In my car."  She sat there for a few heartbeats without saying anything more and then  added, "Sometimes it's scary."
     I had never thought about it.
     Sometimes it's scary...
     Today I was driving  down a major thoroughfare near my home, heading to the airport to pick up my husband, knowing that I had cut it close on time, afraid that I might be a little late.  I hadn't gotten to the freeway yet when I saw something that arrested my attention: a young girl standing on a street corner, casually dressed, with a small bag at her feet.  I've seen women being pimped in this area although the police tend to put a stop to it pretty quickly.  This girl, however,  wasn't a prostitute.
    I also glimpsed  an adult man sitting under a shade tree about three feet away from her.  So while she was facing the main road, just standing quietly, not hitching a ride or anything; this man was seated on the ground away from the main road.  I tried to tell myself that he was probably just her dad; that she was probably waiting for a friend to pick her up and that he was sitting there, waiting to see that she got off safely.
   Only, his face was turned away from her and the thoroughfare.  Plus,  he was holding one hand up next to his face, shielding even his side profile from view.
   It just didn't seem right.
   So I had an internal argument with myself.  Part of me said to go on; that it was probably innocuous.
   But the part of me that said it wasn't good became so insistent  that I finally  pulled onto a parking lot, did a u-turn, and drove back the way I had come.  Just in case...
   When I passed the couple the second time, I could see that she was probably older than I originally thought - maybe 17 or 18.  She was slender and petite. The guy was tall and looked to be middle-aged, weather beaten.  They were both standing on the sidewalk facing each other. Her arms were bent upward, her hands even with her chest, and  both palms were  facing outward towards the man - as if she had just shoved him or as if she were trying to ward him off.  It was impossible to tell what was going on.  After I passed them, I saw the man step off the curb and into the nearest traffic lane where he proceeded to wildly wave both arms, trying to flag someone down. But no one stopped. It looked crazy to me so I pulled into the parking lot of a private Christian school and dialed 911.  I gave the operator (what turned out to be) a semi-accurate description of the girl's clothes - I hadn't concentrated on their clothing, just the location and what they were doing.  
   The operator said they would send out a police unit.  I wasn't sure what to do next. I thought that if I drove past them a third time in the space of about  8 minutes, that it might spook the man and they would run off before the police could get there and check out the situation. So I waited a  minute or two but I really had to get to the airport.  So I got on the thoroughfare once more and hoped they wouldn't notice my car.  As I came  upon the couple for the third time, I saw that they were both on the sidewalk facing each other.  The man was just raising his hands away from the area of her head and so I assumed he had been hitting her. It wasn't until later that I realized I never actually saw him lay a hand on her.  He took  a few steps away from her and then began walking in a small, tight circular pattern on the sidewalk.  I could tell that he was really agitated and wondered if he was high.
     As I drew even with the girl, I could see that tears were just streaming down her face and that her expression was anguished.   I felt strongly that I needed to stop and let her get into my car, that I needed to get her to safety.  But I was simply too  afraid to do it.
    So I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911 again, this time giving them a more accurate description of what the girl was wearing, explaining that the couple was walking in the direction of  a local high school.  When I added that I thought the man had been hitting her, I started crying.
    They assured me that a patrol car was on its way and in fact, about that time I saw one pass me.
    The last I saw of them in my rear view mirror, they were running/walking in the direction of the school, the girl in the lead.
     And that's it.
     End of story.
     A sidewalk vignette on a sunny weekday morning in a business section of the 'hood.
     If I had seen the girl face to face, would I have seen signs of aging that indicated that this "girl" was not a girl at all but rather a woman, possibly a druggie who had the shape of a young girl because drugs were already whittling her down to nothing?
    Like my former neighbor?
    Was she even being mistreated or was this simply an ongoing drama, engaged in willfully by both parties where both parties could be abusive?
     I don't know and I doubt I ever will.
     All I know is that I cried the rest of the way to the airport, even as I wondered why I was so affected by a non-sequential glimpse into the lives of total strangers, people who meant nothing to me.
     But the truth is, that girl represents my neighbor and all the other women in areas like this who are easy prey on the streets, sometimes giving as good as they get, sometimes, yes, even tough as nails and high as kites, if you want to use cliches.
     But they don't start out that way.  They don't start out tough as nails.
    They start out as young girls with high hopes and then somewhere along the way, life beats it out of them.
    It's easy to lose heart in the 'hood.  Like weeds around an abandoned flower garden, something about the 'hood just naturally chokes out compassion. The rule of thumb becomes, "Just mind your own business."
    And God who knows everything, knows I've done my share of "minding my own business".  Seriously.
    Today, however, thanks to the memory of  a shell of a woman who  turned up on my doorstep two weeks ago, I didn't just pass on by.  I remembered the words, "Sometimes it's scary" and I decided to stop and take a second look.
     Whether help was needed or not, I'm grateful that God prompted me to do a u-turn right in the middle of a busy day.
     Sometimes I think He just wants us to stop and take in what  He sees all the time.
     Because those are the things that are on His heart and so those are the things that should be on my heart.
     Tonight, would you pray for two young women who are almost certainly somewhere out on these mean streets?
     And for all their sisters as well....?
     Thanks.


 

Unbelievably Fragile... Unerringly Strong...

        Each spring I am reminded of the faithfulness of God.
        It's not the beauty of the  flowers budding out or the trees sprouting leaves all over the place or even the return of mild temps accompanied by sunny days.   All those are wonderful things but, for me, the sudden appearance of a hummingbird at our feeder is the thing that never fails to remind me of the faithfulness of my God.
       That little smidgen of a bird, beautiful and feisty (yes, they have a bit of an attitude!), pops up just like

magic at the same time every year and when it does, my heart rejoices.  And marvels.  At how a little no-nothing poof of feathers with a super long beak can be so fascinating.  And how such a tiny creature can travel thousands of miles, across the Gulf of Mexico (or so I've been told), on those little tiny wings and still, unerringly, hone in on our little feeder in a nondescript town in a pretty nondescript state.  (I mean, sometimes I wonder, "Hey, bird!  What's wrong with you? Why don't you go to California or Florida??? Or even Galveston? Or Gulf Shores??   But Mabelvale??!!!
      Yet every year we have one or two birds at our feeder, right on time, faithfully.
      Faithfully?
      William Blake wrote a poem with these lines, "Little Lamb, who made thee?"
       When I see "our" hummingbird return each year, my heart rejoices because I know Who made that little bird and all his kith and kin.  That little bird isn't faithful per se; he's programmed.  He doesn't know I watch him and feed him and if he did, he probably wouldn't care.  (In fact, I don't even think he likes me...)   He certainly doesn't travel all this way just to bring joy to me.  He travels because instinct tells him when to travel.  And where to travel.  And that instinct comes from the One who created him.
        I don't know about you, but I need a faithful God.  I can't invent such a being or even imagine such a being but throughout my life, I have needed such a one and He has been there for me.  This is not to say that there haven't been times when I felt I was alone, abandoned, forsaken.  But during those relatively brief spells in my lifetime, there came a moment when things changed.  Like turning a dark corner and suddenly finding the exact thing that I needed to bring me out of my temporary despair.  Like someone knew where I was emotionally and had actually placed just the right message in front of my eyes.  Or provided just the right   shoulder to cry on.  Or even had given just the right amount of money out of nowhere.. Or ... yes, like someone had even gone to the trouble to direct a little tiny, ornery poof of feathers straight to  my feeder on a beautiful cloudless day in April.  Have you had an experience like that?  Where you feel even God has abandoned you and then suddenly you turn a corner and you stumble across the very thing that you need and it hits you, "God knew I needed that!! Only He could have done that for me!!"

        A week or so ago I started a new lady's Bible study, Stronger, by Angela Thomas.   This one speaks to my heart like few studies ever have.  This morning I only got through the first two pages of today's study and then, well, I just  got stuck there. I just kept reading and re-reading, highlighting, and underlining, thinking and praying and... smiling.   Like the hummingbird sipping at my feeder, I just kept drinking in the words on those two pages. She talks honestly about all the major struggles that we can face in life. But she dwells on the strength that God can provide.  Today's lesson was on the struggle called "loneliness".
       Loneliness.  We all have to deal with it.   No matter who we are, where we live, how many people walk with us - there will be times when we walk alone.  Even in a crowd, it is truly possible to feel alone.  Grief can do that to you. Disappointment can do that to you. Pain can do that to you. Heavy burdens can do that to you. There are a ton of things that can hedge a person in and make them feel all alone.
       And yet...  there is this - a place to camp as well as a stake to peg our tent to in times of storms:  Hebrews 13:5.  I will never leave you nor forsake you.
       Mrs. Thomas writes about this verse and then quotes from the Greek scholar Kenneth Wuest where he stated,    "The promise and guarantee in Hebrews 13:5 was spoken by God Himself."   
       By God Himself....

       The same God who made the hummingbird  also spoke those words.  For you. For me.
       Wuest goes on to say that the Greek word for "forsake" actually is a combination of three Greek words. From one word, kata, you get  the idea of rejection or helplessness.  The second word, leipo,  means "to leave".   But the third word, eg, is the one that interested me the most. It means someone who is feeling helpless or defeated "...in the midst of hostile circumstances."  What could be worse than feeling rejected and helpless while surrounded by hostility?    Sometimes in the South we express this ultimate type of abandonment by saying, "The whole world has turned against me!" (Or "agin" me, as my grandma used to say :).
       But God doesn't!  Wuest says the original Greek for this one tiny (fragile as a hummingbird's wing??) Bible verse actually reads like this:   "I will not, I will not, I will not let thee down, leave thee in the lurch, leave thee destitute, leave thee in straits and helpless, abandon thee.'"   (The emphasis is mine).
       As I read these words this morning,I  thought about Hebrews 13:5 and then watched the hummingbird at our window.   And it came to me quite powerfully that the God who caused that bird  to beat his  little wings a thousand times over, across land and sea,  just to get back to one feeder out of thousands - that this  same God is the One who has promised He will not abandon us, even in our most desolate times.
      And if He can cause a smidgen of a bird to travel thousands of miles in order to  land on a little speck of a  feeder in Mabelvale, Arkansas, then He Himself can certainly,  unerringly hone in on our fragile hearts just when we need Him the most.

Yes, I Can Get Excited about That...

     Metamorphoo.   [Meh tah mahr FAH oh]  Meaning to "transform".

     As I get older, my mind wanders.  Like as  in I sometimes need a mental leash and/or a keeper.  This is especially true when I'm tired and today I was tired.  At some point during Sunday school or worship, I saw an inset in my Holman study Bible.  Honestly, I don't even know how I got on that page in my Bible because it was in Matthew and the Sunday school lesson was in Proverbs while the sermon was in Ephesians 4.  As I've indicated, my mind can sometimes wander far afield.

      The word "metamorphoo" was used in Matthew 17:2, a verse that describes Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration.  The verse says that Jesus was transformed in front of His disciples, that Peter, James, and John - to their astonishment I'm guessing - saw Jesus' face shine as bright as the sun and, according to the Scripture, even his clothes got in on the act as they also shone with a bright light.  Pretty amazing!

     I knew a Muslim many years ago who was attracted to Christ but who was determined not to convert, at least for a while - maybe even for years and years.  He loved the Bible and he enjoyed church but he was afraid of the cost that he would have to pay if he left Islam.  One night, as he was riding to church with his friend, the friend challenged him.  Basically he asked the Muslim, "What would it take for you to believe in Christ?"  The Muslim, wanting to end this conversation once and for all, searched for the most impossible thing he could think of and blurted out, "I would have to see God."  The friend swallowed hard and said, "Well, we'll pray that happens then."

     They went on to church and during the service, as people were passing the communion plate, the Muslim looked up and saw a blinding white light at the front of the church.  He said the light was as bright as the sun and yet it didn't hurt his eyes.  He looked away to see how others were reacting to this phenomena and when he looked back at the front of the room, the light was gone.  However,  he knew...  He knew Who the light was and he didn't hesitate to commit to Christ. What he had thought would take years took only a few minutes.

    I've had a Chinese friend tell me the same thing - that when she prayed alone in her room to receive Christ, even though her room was dark, a light began to shine until it filled the entire place.

    Metamorphoo.

    Back to Matthew 17:  Jesus was transformed  and the disciples were suddenly able to see Him as we will all see Him someday. They got a glimpse of His glory, the glory that He temporarily laid aside in order to "empty Himself" and become like a man for our sake. (Phil. 2)

    But there's more.

    II Corinthians 3:7-18 talks about the difference between the old covenant, the one mediated by Moses, and the new covenant, the one initiated, fulfilled, and sealed by Jesus via His sinless life and His death.  The difference is like night and day. Or as the Holman study notes say, it is like comparing  the light of a waning and waxing moon  to the ever brilliant sun.  

    Paul goes on to remind his readers that   Moses' face shone whenever he met with God in the tabernacle.  Just being in the presence of God caused Moses' face to shine with an unearthly glory.  But this glory-by-association, if you will,  began to fade as soon as Moses left the tabernacle.  

    Whereas the glory of the risen Jesus will never fade.

    And then Paul makes an  astounding statement in II Cor. 3:17 - 18.  "Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.  We all with unveiled faces, are looking as in a mirror at the glory of the Lord and are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory..."

     I thought about that.  As we meditate on the glory of the Lord,spend time in His presence, we are being changed.  Transformed.  That's what the Bible says. 

      We are being metamorphosed into the image of His Son, we are going  from glory to glory:

      I thought of Colossians 3:1-4.  In that passage Paul wrote that we are to "...seek what is above, where the Messiah is seated at the right hand of God."  He goes on to say that we are to set our mind on the things that are above as compared to the things that are on the earth.. And then he caps this passage with stunning words, "When the Messiah, who is your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him in glory."

     This week I have thought about loved ones who have gone on to be with the Lord. I've recalled scenes from my childhood, my teen-age years, my college days, and the early days of our marriage.  There are a lot of people already  in Heaven whom I miss.  There are a few days now and then when I would give almost anything to be able to visit with my grandfather, my mom, etc. I would love to be able to sit down with them and talk to them about events that we shared, reminisce, and/or just see their faces once more.

     But until today I never really thought about sitting with them in glory, literally.

     I never thought about how meditating on God - who He is and the glory that surrounds Him - I never thought about how doing that enables Him  right  now to change me bit by bit into His likeness, into a reflection of His glory.

    And that one day all of His children, including the ones I now love and miss,  will be revealed with Jesus and all of us will be "wearing" His glory when we meet again.  Wow!

    Several years ago when a man in our Sunday school was told that he had an advanced form of an aggressive lung cancer, he looked at the doctor and said, "Well, I can get excited about Heaven."

    I respected him for that but didn't really understand his mindset.  Until today when my mind wandered, my attention was arrested by a funny Greek word, Metamorphoo, and some disparate verses in Scripture suddenly began to come together  in my mind.

    And then, finally, right on the heels of looking at first one verse and then another, I suddenly had a flashback to a time when I was sitting  with my next door neighbors, an elderly couple who were like adopted parents to me. And I recalled  them singing country songs like, "I'll fly away, oh, Glory... I'll fly away!" and "Will the circle be unbroken.." - songs I considered old fashioned and "out of date".
    Until today...

    Metamorphoo.

    Metamorphosis.

    Transformed by the glory of Jesus, starting now as I  sit at His feet and reaching completion when I go to be with Him.

    And, yes, I can get excited about that.

    

    Psalms 84:5,7.  Happy are the people whose strength is in You, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. They go from strength to strength; each appears before God in Zion.

    II Cor. 4:16-17.  Therefore we do not give up!  Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day.   For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory.  

    Romans 8:18.  For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us. 

    

    

Of Boogey Men, Storms, Songs in the Night, and Other Things...

     I am really, really afraid of severe storms and have been since I was a child.
     My maternal grandmother, who is now with the Lord, was terrified of storms among other things and I spent a lot of time with her when I was a preschooler so I figure I got my fear from her.  She also  taught me to be afraid of the Boogey Man (not kidding) - an invisible being who was capable of opening the bedroom window from the outside in order to grab me and drag  me off to parts unknown for reasons I never understood.
         She also taught me  to be afraid of the dark and at the same time  to be afraid of  "peeping Toms" who were drawn to lighted windows - a paradox of immense proportions for me. (Incidentally, she lived out in the countryside where our nearest neighbor was a herd of cows and I never caught any of them standing on their hind legs with binoculars in their front hooves staring through the curtains at us, Chick-Fil-A notwithstanding.).
    She also established a bedtime ritual which has remained alive in my memory, lo these many years.
   This little short woman, somewhat hunched over, would watch the 10:00 news and comment on every murder, serious car wreck, massacre, or whatever Chet Huntley (or whoever he was) would solemnize.  All the while I sat on the floor surrounded by my baby dolls, sucking my thumb, staring wide-eyed at the specter of local and world chaos which was being brought to  me via her black and white t.v. screen. (Thank goodness they didn't have internet or widescreen t.v.s, CNN or FOX news 24/7 back then.  If they had,  I probably would have spent the rest of my life curled up in the fetal position, sucking my thumb).
    Right after the news, she would get a broom and sweep any dirt or dust into the center of the house.  She always wore a house dress, hose, and thick, black, hard-soled shoes and as she swept each room, I would follow closely behind her, knowing that the next thing was lights out which meant the house was about to become the Boogey Man's domain for the next ten hours or so.  Joy...
    After the trash had been deposited in the wastebasket and the rooms passed her inspection, she would go through each room again, her big black suitcase of a  purse under one arm (so the Boogey Man wouldn't get it) and a flashlight in the other.  I can remember to this day literally clinging to her skirt at that point, my eyes glued to that small circle of light on the floor as each room turned from light to dark and our world narrowed down to what only the flashlight could reveal.  I also remember that her shoes sounded like gunshots going off to my small ears as she clomped across the wooden floors.  Let's just say, bedtime was nerve-wracking...
     I slept in the same room with her although the word "sleep" is a little misleading.  She had mice or rats (Or both) in the attic and in the top of her closet and that didn't bother her too much. She'd put out rat poison from time to time but essentially she was really, really hard of hearing.  So almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she'd be snoring while I'd lay huddled in bed listening to the rodents have a "big time", as she would have said, romping around in the top of the closet next to us.  To this day I hate mice!
    My grandmother loved me, no doubt about it.  But she had a unique view of things.  She taught me to wear clean underwear -  in case I was in a car wreck and had to be taken to the hospital. (And in fact, when my mom was  a teen-ager, she would wake my mom and my uncle up in the middle of the night when it was really stormy... and make them put on their Sunday best in case they got blown away in the middle of the night.)   She was terrified of death; my mom had known Grandma to leave every light on in the house  back in her younger days when a relative or friend passed away.  Yet she seemed to love funerals as she got older.  She literally perked up at seeing people at a funeral service - people she hadn't seen in a while - and we used to marvel at how visiting at funerals seemed to animate her to no end.  Ditto for standing around and visiting after Sunday night preachin' while we kids played tag until I was the only one left - at which time I became fodder for the mosquitoes buzzing around the church's Night Watcher which propelled me into whining and pleading until grandma finally said good bye to her friends and we headed home.
     But I digress...
     I am really, really afraid of storms, the dark, and being caught in a car wreck wearing underwear that is less than pristine.... Ha!  The underwear is not a problem - I have a washer and use it frequently (in case you are wondering.) And the dark is not a big deal because I have electricity, candles, and a flashlight.  Storms are a different matter....
     And it had been predicted that we would have a doozie  of a weather system passing through our area sometime Thursday evening.
     My poor husband had been sick the night before and was exhausted all day Thursday so he came home early telling me he had to get some rest.  That, of course, worried me...  My first thought was, "The storms will interrupt his sleep and he'll be in even worse shape on Friday."
    Not so.

    He was sound asleep when the storms came but I wasn't. And neither was our Pomeranian mix, Buddie, who is also terrified of storms.  So, yeah, we both ran to the bedroom at the first boom of thunder.
 Another ground-shaking burst of thunder and I didn't care if I woke Phil up or not - I leaped into bed (no small feat at my age) and plastered myself against him. In fact, if I remember correctly, I tried to position myself so that he would be like a human shield if tornadic winds started to suck us up into the rafters. If we went.. he was going first!
     Okay.  Phil is a really, really sound sleeper.
     He almost came to  - not quite- and mumbled a question - something about me being alright?
     I assured him I wasn't.  He kind of nodded and then resumed snoring while I held his arm in a sort of vice grip.  That was fine with me. I wasn't looking for conversation, just the assurance that if I went, I wouldn't be going alone!
     Then Phil began to squirm around and mumble something else, like, "uhhh... 'kay... Buddie.. goooood dog... get... off...my.. feet..  goooodddd dogg... "
     So I now knew that all three of us were in bed - me clinging to Phil's back like an overweight limpet while Buddie was anchoring  Phil's  feet to the mattress, all the while shaking like a leaf no doubt -   while all heck was breaking lose right above our heads (or so it seemed to me.)  And still Phil managed to sleep.
    At one point,  however, I did feel the need for verbal reassurance.  The weather had whipped itself up into such a frenzy that I seriously thought I was just a few minutes away from Kingdom Come,a place I hadn't really planned on visiting at 1 a.m. last night. Without any hesitation or compassion, I got right in Phil's ear and bawled, "I AM TERRIFIED!!!
      And the point of this story?
     Grandma may have put the fear of something or other in me (some of which was necessary!) but thankfully God gave me a husband who is both a sound sleeper and also pretty fearless, not to mention compassionate and one who loves the Lord.
      My frantic message must have gotten through to him because he grabbed my hand and, to my amazement, began to sleepily sing the words to a hymn!    At first I thought he was crazy but within seconds I was listening to the words of the song,  All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name.  And then, after he had fallen back into a fitful slumber (no doubt) I continued to sing quietly as  the storm quieted down  within and
without me.
       Wow!  My grandmother was a great lady (quirky and fearful but a great lady).  But she can't hold a candle to my husband who taught me a valuable lesson last night - the secret of singing about Jesus in the midst of a storm!
      Today I saw a picture on FB that said, "If your husband is your best friend, share this!"
       Did I post it on my FB?
       You bet your sweet bippie I did...