Benevolent Dominion

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.
Genesis 2:15

Tree Hugger

Several years ago, then-seven-year-old grandson Joshua made a derogatory comment about tree huggers. Guessing he was mimicking something he’d heard, I smiled and replied, “Careful there, Joshua! One of your favorite people might be a tree hugger.”

He looked at me sheepishly as he realized I was referring to myself, his plant-loving Grammie.

Since that light-hearted exchange, we’ve had many conversations regarding invasive species of plants and insects, the effects of pesticides on pollinators, and our part in caring for God’s beautiful creation. Though neither of us is likely to chain ourselves to a tree in an attempt to save it, we both prefer protecting rather than pillaging our earthly home.

Rebellious Co-Regents

In the beginning, God created man in His image, male and female He created them. God blessed Adam and Eve, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” (Genesis 1:28)

How amazing that Almighty God, Creator and Ruler of everything, would allow His creatures to participate in ruling over all He had created. As His representatives, they were to extend the beauty and peace that existed in Eden to the whole earth.

Alas, they weren’t content with their position. When Satan tempted Eve, she exchanged the desire to glorify God for self-exaltation. Her eyes were opened, just as Satan promised, but her disobedience brought death and dismay, not equality with God.

The keeping of the garden that was to be pleasant work in the presence of God became onerous as God cursed the ground, and thistles and thorns sprang up to impede man’s attempt to cultivate crops. I often think of the curse when I struggle to free my azaleas and hydrangeas from the prickly vines that ensnare them or labor to rid my woods of poison ivy.

Relationships also suffered. No longer was there peace between God and man or between husband and wife. It wasn’t long before brother turned on brother. Strife became the norm, as God’s rebellious image-bearers were led astray by their deceitful hearts, each doing what was right in their own eyes. Even the creation groaned under the burden of sin (Romans 8:19-23).

Be Fruitful

Another, more recent, lunchtime conversation with my grandkids found us discussing pets. Since my 19-year-old cat, Willie, died several years ago, I haven’t had a pet, so I offered up, “The birds are my outdoor pets.”

Emma replied, “Those aren’t your birds, Grammie! Those are the world’s birds.”

“You’re right, Emma. They’re God’s birds, but He lets me feed them.”

And so He does.

Despite Adam and Eve’s rebellion, God didn’t give up on His original design or consign His wayward children to eternal exile. Before He banished them from the garden, God promised there would be a way back, a perfect plan developed before the foundation of the world (Genesis 3:15; Ephesians 1:4).

In the fullness of time, Jesus, the only begotten Son, was born, lived a sinless life, and died a brutal death, exchanging His spotless garments of perfect righteousness for our filthy rags of wretched sinfulness.

When it came time for Him to return to His Father, Jesus gave His disciples instructions that hearkened back to those God gave Adam and Eve, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20)

Righteous Rule

Too often, when we hear words like authority, dominion, and subdue, we think of harsh force, one side crushing the other and subjecting them to cruel treatment. But that’s not the way God deals with His creatures. He provides and cares for them so they might flourish under His watchful eye (Psalm 145:15-16). As His children who’ve been given authority to rule in His stead, we’re to do the same.

The Apostle Paul tells us we’ve been entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation. Jesus’ followers are to be fruitful and multiply spiritually. We’re to be peacemakers, sharing the Gospel message of how to be reconciled to God and each other (2 Corinthians 5:17-21).

Thus, God still calls us to extend the peace and beauty of Eden to the world in our homes, gardens, communities, and relationships – a foretaste of heaven. Though we won’t be able to do it perfectly until Jesus returns, we are empowered by the Spirit, enabled to bring the sweet aroma of Christ and the light of His love to a world in desperate need of both.

Enemies Vanquished

There will come a time when God displays the force we typically associate with dominion. When Jesus returns, it will be as the conquering King, the One Who will abolish all remaining enemies, including death (Revelation 19:11-16). Everything will be redeemed and made new, yet better than Eden because there will be no place for sin or evil in the new Jerusalem (Revelation 22:3-4).

Christ is currently seated at the Father’s right hand, possessing all authority in heaven and on earth (Luke 22:69). However, at the consummation of all things, He will assume His visible, eternal rule when every knee will bow and every tongue confesses His Lordship (Isaiah 45:22-24).

And we will rule with Him forever (Revelation 3:21)! How amazing!

Dear Lord, what a privilege it is to be allowed to rule with You even now though sin continues to influence our thoughts and behavior. Whether we’re caring for birds and plants or each other, please help us extend Your grace to all You place in our sphere of influence as we endeavor to be fruitful and multiply, all for Your glory.

My Forever Cheerleaders

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.
Hebrews 12:1

Watching the Clock

For weeks after my 39-year-old husband Ray died suddenly of a heart attack at work, I dreaded Saturdays. I replayed the events of the fateful day when Ray passed away, becoming progressively tenser as 6 pm, the time of the heart attack, approached. I imagined what he went through, how his associates tried to help him until the EMTs arrived, and the wailing of the ambulance’s siren as they rushed him to the hospital. All the while, my young daughters and I were shopping, ignorant of the fact our lives had changed forever.

When Mom passed away last year, no such replays plagued me on subsequent Fridays. Though images of her tiny bruise-covered body and pain-racked countenance haunted me for several weeks, her peaceful passing surrounded by those closest to her was more of a comfort to me. Whereas Ray’s sudden death sent me into a state of shock, I’d begun to grieve Mom’s decline months before her death, and knowing she was pain-free and in the presence of Jesus was a relief, even though I missed her terribly.

Thus, when April 30th, the first anniversary of Mom’s Homegoing, arrived, I was caught off-guard by the flood of memories that accompanied it, memories as clear as if the events had happened last week, not last year. As soon as I woke up, the heaviness hit, and the tears soon followed. The morning progressed,  and I found myself watching the clock, tension building as the time of Mom’s final breath approached.

Last year’s sequence of events played out in my mind: I called her hospice nurse, who informed me Mom had rested well and was still dozing. The same nurse called an hour later, telling me Mom had taken a turn and we needed to come. Texts to my children and prayer warriors, a call to Dad. The tense drive. The hushed room where we gathered around our beloved to sing, pray, and whisper our goodbyes.

And then she was gone. Or was she?

A Great Cloud of Witnesses

Twenty-five years ago, when I met with my pastor to plan Ray’s funeral, I asked, “Do you think Ray can see us? Not to see how sad we are, but how much we love him.”

His answer, paraphrased after all these years, went something like, “Scripture isn’t clear regarding how much our loved ones see, but God is sovereign over all and can allow them to know things if He chooses.”

I’ve held onto his answer and have even prayed for God to allow Ray to know about certain events if it’s His will to do so: my daughters’ graduations, my return to school to study horticulture, the births of my grandchildren, and sometimes a simple, “Please tell Ray I love him, Lord.”

Ray loved me so well for the years he was with me that I still feel his love. And so it is with Mom’s. I know I’ll carry her love with me for the rest of my life.[1]

In addition, there are times when I feel them very close to me. Such was the case in the days after I finished filming the video for Focus on the Family.[2] I longed to share the experience with Mom and Ray, the wonder, the excitement, and the misgivings. I dreamt about Ray two nights in a row, dreams that were like sweet visits, as I told him about the video. We were both so happy. And then, when the self-doubts set in – being filmed introduces a whole new level of vulnerability not associated with written words – I could sense Mom’s affirmations, her wholehearted support of my efforts, her joy.

I described these incidents to a dear friend and asked if she ever has similar instances with her departed husband. She smiled, nodded, and said, “Yes. Sometimes the veil is thin.”

Indeed it is. My two most ardent supporters haven’t left me. They’re part of the great cloud of witnesses surrounding me (Hebrews 12:1).

Glorious Reunion

Though there are many things we don’t know about heaven and our loved ones’ current state, there are others Scripture is quite clear about:

  • Believers who are absent from the body are present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8).
  • Jesus is preparing a place for us and will return to take us Home (John 14:2-3).
  • Our bodies will be raised imperishable (1 Corinthians 15:53-55).
  • We will dwell in His presence forever (Revelation 21:1-3).
  • There will be no more tears, death, mourning, or pain (Revelation 21:4).

As the clock continues to count down to Jesus’ return, let us comfort each other with the words of the Apostle Paul:

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18).

Dear Lord, as we recall all You did for us and await Your return, it is comforting to know that our departed loved ones are resting in Your presence. How sweet are the moments when You allow us to feel their nearness, and how dear the promise that we will one day be reunited in the new Jerusalem to live with You forever. Thank You for Your infinite, eternal love that unites us to You and each other.


[1] Please see “Legacy of Love,” Archives, July 31, 2020.

[2] Please see “Twenty-five Years,” April 19, 2022.

Twenty-five Years

My heart is overflowing with praise of my Lord, my soul is full of joy in God my Saviour. For he has deigned to notice me, his humble servant.
Luke 1:46b-48a (Phillips)

April 19, 2022 – 25 years since my beloved husband left for work one beautiful spring Saturday, had a fatal heart attack at age 39, and never returned home.

Some of you know me personally, others only from reading my blog. Either way, I’m sure you’ve noticed my intentionality in looking back when special days roll around. Months ago, even before I started penciling things in on my 2022 calendar, I began pondering how I would observe this momentous anniversary.

But, as is often the case, the Lord was far ahead of me, with a plan so astonishing that I couldn’t have imagined it, much less asked for it (Ephesians 3:20).

An Intriguing Email

Last October, I was scrolling through my inbox when this subject line grabbed my attention: “Video Request – Focus on the Family.” Intrigued, I opened the email and began to read.

The writer introduced himself as a video producer and described the project he was working on, a series of brief videos to be released this year. Each would feature a family who’d been impacted by the Focus on the Family ministry.

I kept reading, barely able to grasp the words. I love telling others about God’s goodness and faithfulness – that’s why I started this blog – but who was I to be in a video for a major ministry? Not that I questioned the email’s authenticity, but I couldn’t fathom receiving such an opportunity, and the thought humbled me.

The embedded quote from a letter I’d written to Focus several years ago dispelled any lingering doubts about mistaken identity. In it, I recounted a phone call I made soon after Ray died and the kind, affirming remark by the Focus counselor who took my call. In describing my loss, I told her I felt like a part of me was missing. Her reply still resonates with me 25 years later: “During the years you and your husband were married, you became one. Part of you is missing.”

I forwarded the email to my daughters with the message, “This goes into the category, ‘you never know what to expect on any given day!’”

A Change of Plans

Despite my initial disbelief, I responded the next day, thanking Tim, the producer, for considering my story and requesting additional information regarding timing and logistics. Several emails and a phone call or two later, we agreed Tim would come to Georgia to film on November 19th and 20th.

But life intervened. My dad’s stroke in late October and additional commitments for Tim led us to agree to postpone filming until after the holidays.

God’s timing is perfect – always. Even though I can find something beautiful in my garden any time of the year, late November would have found it in decline, going to sleep for the winter. Springtime, however, is the time of rebirth and new life, when the exuberance of Creation shouts praises to the Creator. It’s a season of personal loss, yet one that pours hope into my heart.

Images to Treasure

I’ve written before about my figurative chest of drawers where I tenderly tuck memories to savor again in the future.[1] This experience gave me a whole drawer full to cherish, some bittersweet, but each one a treasure:

  • The women in my Bible study gathering around me to pray several days before the taping.
  • Gathering mementos from Ray’s life – family photos, his wedding ring, neatly-folded Home Depot shirts – to be used in the video.
  • Working with Tim, a young man who would fit right in with my kids[2], with the mutual goal of producing a God-honoring video to bless others.
  • The joy of including my grandchildren, Joshua, Lyla, and Emma. Though Ray hasn’t met them yet, they’re as much a part of his legacy as my daughters and the beautiful garden he left for me to tend.

Over and Above

For the first few days after taping, I kept replaying the events in my mind, scarcely able to find words to describe what they meant to me.

Though the experience was a gift in itself, God was far from finished. When we agreed to film in November, I hoped Focus would release the video in April to coincide with the anniversary of Ray’s passing. I set that hope aside when we delayed to the end of March, recognizing that editing and production usually take 3-4 months. Three weeks seemed impossible.

Several days after Tim returned to Colorado, I received a text from him asking which day Ray passed, followed by another in response to mine saying he would try to get the video ready by April 19. Then, a mere six days after we finished shooting, Tim texted, “I have the first version of the video done! Do you want to see it? I’m shocked at how fast it came together. Felt like the Lord carrying it.”

Tim’s text confirmed what I already sensed. Nothing is impossible for God, and my loving Heavenly Father was orchestrating a most remarkable gift for me. I could finally articulate why the experience had left me speechless. I was overwhelmed by the reality that God never lost sight of me. He’d remembered the date, kept track of my tears (Psalm 56:8), and counted the years right along with me. Knowing how important it is for me to recall His favor and tell others of His steadfast love, He set up an unforgettable memorial stone to commemorate this 25th anniversary, one that will stand for future generations of my family (Joshua 4:1-7).

Unimaginable

Hours after Ray died, I penned the following in my journal, “This is the worst day of my life up to this point. Ray, my dear, dear husband and friend, died tonight. Even as I write it, I don’t believe it. It will probably take time for the numbness to wear off, but when it does, Lord, please enfold Mary, Jessie, and me in your love. I don’t understand this and I can’t even begin to imagine what my life will be like without him.”

I knew the joy of eternity awaited me, but as ensuing days found one, two, or all three of us in tears at bedtime, I wondered if I’d ever find joy again in this life. Later journal entries documented my concerns about being alone after Mary and Jessie grew up and went on with their adult lives.

But just as I couldn’t imagine life without Ray, I couldn’t imagine the abundant blessings God had in store for me. Good gifts of His presence, provision, and protection, of family, friends, and flowers.

Beauty From Ashes

I’m an equal-opportunity crier. I cry as easily over happy events as sad ones. Thus, I asked several friends to pray that I wouldn’t sniffle my way through the video interview. With a couple of minor exceptions, I managed to hold it together.

Nonetheless, when I finished watching the video for the first time, I wept. Tim captured the sorrow of what I lost, but my tears flowed because he also portrayed the beauty the Lord has exchanged for my ashes. My fears of being alone were unfounded. Not only has the Lord kept His promise never to leave or forsake me, but He’s also filled my life with people to love and be loved by and given me a foretaste of heaven in my garden.

I don’t deserve any of His good gifts, yet He pours them out on me, as He does all His children. He lavishes His love on us, leaving no doubt He sees us individually and intimately. Having already given us the greatest gift in Jesus, we have no reason to think He’ll withhold any lesser benevolence (Romans 8:32).

Though losing Ray remains the single most significant loss in my life, there have been other hardships and sorrows over the past 25 years, and I know there will most likely be more before the Lord calls me Home. But I’ve learned to trust Him in ways I never would have if I hadn’t experienced those difficulties. The Lord has repeatedly done far more than I could ask or imagine, including the opportunity to share my testimony of His goodness to a much broader audience than I ever expected. I pray this video will bring much glory to Him and point others to the life and hope found in Jesus.  

You may watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqpDpuwCGUE


[1] Please see “In Remembrance,” Archives, April 25, 2015.

[2] Daughters Mary and Jessie, and son-in-law, Justin.

A Month for Remembering

Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?
1 Corinthians 15:54b-55

Beware the Ides of April

Though Ides looks plural, it is, in fact, singular and means the middle of a given month. According to the ancient Roman calendar,  the Ides fell on the 15th of  March, May, July, and October, and the 13th of the other months.

I’m not superstitious, and I realize I’m taking liberties with one of the most famous of Shakespeare’s often-quoted lines. Still, I’ve become wary of the middle of April, those days between the 10th and 20th,  because they are dotted with significant anniversaries of loss, both personal and national:

  • Waco Massacre – April 19, 1993
  • Oklahoma City Bombing – April 19, 1995
  • Ray, my dearly-loved husband, passed away from a heart attack on April 19, 1997, at the age of 39.
  • Columbine – April 20, 1999
  • VA Tech Shooting – April 16, 2007
  • Marcia, a dear sister-in-law, died on April 12, 2014, after a fall at her farm.
  • Mom was diagnosed with pneumonia on April 17, 2019, and spent the next 24 days in the hospital. There were several times we thought we’d lose her.
  • Mom fell and broke her hip on April 20, 2021, Dad’s 90th birthday. She went Home ten days later.

A Melancholy Month

When the calendar page turns to the fourth month, a thin layer of melancholy settles over my soul, much like pine pollen coats the Georgia landscape. I’ll admit I had to look up the specific dates of the national tragedies, though I knew they all occurred in April. Not so with the personal losses. Those dates and their attendant memories are etched into my mind.

Ray’s death forever divided my life into two pieces, before and after. Each year I intentionally revisit our last days together, when I had no idea how few there were, and the first days without him, when I wondered how I’d ever go on.

This year, I’m doing the same with memories of Mom. Last April, medical appointments filled the calendar as I desperately sought help for Mom, whose health was precarious and becoming more so each day. Yet I didn’t realize I had less than a month left in this life with the one who had been my chief cheerleader and devoted prayer warrior my whole life. Unlike Ray’s final days, which were filled with typical family and work activities, Mom’s were plagued with pain and confusion, making the memories even more heartbreaking.

Purposely observing the passing of Ray and Mom, my two most ardent supporters, touches tender scars and re-opens the wounds. But it is a price I’m willing to pay as I honor the memory of these dear ones, gratefully recalling the love and blessings they poured into my life.

Hope Abounds

Despite the undercurrent of loss that runs through April reminiscences, my mood seldom remains somber for long. The beauty of springtime bursting forth all around me won’t allow it to.

I revel daily in the signs of new life, as leaves emerge on formerly bare branches, flowering shrubs look resplendent in their colorful array of blossoms, and perennials push their way out of the soil for another season of growth. And I delight in the increased activity around my bird feeders as my feathered friends form couples and begin raising their young.

Everywhere I look, I see reminders of resurrection hope.

Suffering Savior

Just as I intentionally think back about Ray’s (and now Mom’s) final days, each year as Easter approaches, I ponder Jesus’ last week. On Palm Sunday, we remember His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, but over the next five days, the chants of adoration would be replaced by those of, “Crucify Him!” (John 12:12-13; John 19:15)

In His final week, our beloved Savior, the Spotless Lamb of God, would wash His disciples’ feet, be betrayed with a kiss, abandoned by His closest friends, arrested, beaten, mocked, and crucified. Writing those words, contemplating all it cost Him to save me, brings tears to my eyes as quickly as thoughts of losing Ray and Mom – tears of sorrow for my sins and all He endured on my behalf.

Grieving with Hope

But death doesn’t get the final say. Jesus’ resurrection guarantees He’ll have the last word.

Though it is right to mourn our sins with sorrow that leads to repentance (2 Corinthians 7:10), we can rejoice knowing His atoning sacrifice removes our sins as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12). They no longer define us because our identity is hidden in Christ, and we are robed in His righteousness.

Furthermore, Jesus’ victory over death enables us to grieve the passing of our loved ones with the hope of knowing the separation, though painful, is only temporary (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14). Jesus’ journey through the streets of Jerusalem, heralded by hosannas and palm branches, is but a shadow of His promised return. On that day, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord. The dwelling place of God will be with His people, and He will wipe away every tear. Death, mourning, and pain will be no more, for the former things will have passed away (Revelation 21:3-4).

Thank You, Lord, for the hope we have in You. Because You took our punishment upon Yourself and then rose in victory over death, we have the assurance our sins are pardoned, and we too will be resurrected to eternal life in Your presence. May we be ever mindful of this truth to comfort our hearts while we tarry in this world where the effects of sin and brokenness remain.

Perseverance Personified

Perseverance Personified

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:1-2

Set Backs

After growing up in Delaware, one of the things I like best about living in Georgia is the relatively mild winters dotted with spring-like interludes. But sometimes, early hints of spring stretch into several days of balmy temperatures, enough to coax plants out of their winter hibernation early. Inevitably, the temperatures return to a more normal range. Every few years, though, they plummet to well below freezing, jeopardizing new foliage, early flowers, and buds on the verge of opening.

Such was the case last month. I watched as tender green shoots and spring ephemerals began popping out, hoping the unseasonable highs wouldn’t give way to record-breaking cold. Nearly a week of days passed with temperatures in the 70s, well above average for March. Flower buds swelled, and some burst open, overcome by the welcoming warmth. The exuberant plants just couldn’t contain themselves!

Seeing the forecast for nighttime temps in the lower 20s, I strolled my property, took some photos, and whispered encouragement to the young sprouts, “Hunker down, guys, you can make it!”

After successive nights of such cold, I walked my garden again to assess the damage. Some of my plant friends survived unscathed, while others bore significant evidence of the relentless cold. New leaves, bright green a few days before, hung brown and limp from branches. The first courageous flowers, zapped by the deep freeze, bore the same appearance.

Persistence

I’ve watched my plants undergo various hardships over the years – drought, hail, temperature extremes, both high and low – and am inspired by their will to live. Their perseverance is one of the things I like best about gardening, the thing that makes it such a hope-filled endeavor.

Despite my sorrow at seeing their injuries, I expect most will persist and begin to flourish again when more typical spring weather settles in. Some have already started to produce new leaves to replace the brown, lifeless ones. Even those that won’t be able to bear flowers this year will have the hope of doing so next year.

I’ve learned that as long as the roots and crown of perennials haven’t been damaged, the plants will survive.

Our Example

Scripture likewise praises perseverance, telling us that our suffering produces endurance, which in turn produces character, which then yields hope (Romans 5:3-4). James even goes so far as to counsel us to count it all joy when we encounter trials of various kinds because the testing of our faith produces steadfastness (James 1:2-3).

Jesus is our ultimate example of perseverance. He knew from before the foundation of the world what it would cost Him to save God’s chosen ones. Still, He came, humbling Himself by taking on flesh, enduring the punishment and mistreatment due to us, and remaining obedient to the point of death on the cross.

Why? For the joy set before Him. And what was that joy? Spending eternity with us in the presence of His Father! Think about that, dear readers. Marvel and wonder at it! Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God, endured far more than any of us will ever have to bear so we can be with Him forever. The writer of Hebrews urges us to consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that (we) may not grow weary or fainthearted. In (our) struggle against sin, (we) have not yet resisted to the point of shedding (our) blood (Hebrews 12:3-4).

Though we’ll never have to bear the weight of God’s wrath because of Jesus’ sacrifice on our behalf, we will have troubles in this broken world, even times when we wonder how we’ll endure and if we’ll remain steadfast. But we’re never alone (John 16:33). Just like the plants whose outward appearance is alarming but whose roots are strong and healthy, those of us who are rooted and built up in Jesus will draw on His living water and bear much fruit for His glory despite setbacks, daunting conditions, and seasons of dormancy (Jeremiah 17:8). And one day, He’ll call us Home where we’ll flourish forever.

Thank You, Lord, for loving us unconditionally and sacrificially. You lived a sinless life yet became sin for us that we might be robed in Your righteousness, enduring unimaginable pain and separation from the Father so we’ll never have to (2 Corinthians 5:21). As we go through this Easter season, please help us take time to meditate on all it cost You to save us. May we follow Your example of perseverance so our faith roots grow strong and deep in the nourishing soil of Your presence.

Signs of Life

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galatians 2:20

Let All Creation Sing

Some years ago, I attended a horticulture conference where one of the speakers began her talk by saying, “Summer, fall, and winter are seasons. Spring is a miracle!”

I often think of her comment when we’re on the cusp of spring, anticipating the glorious bursting forth of foliage and flowers when all creation joins in a chorus of praise to the Creator, pointing us to Jesus’ resurrection.

Yet, even when I stroll my garden in the winter, weeks before the magnificent display of new life, I find signs of what will be. Leafless branches sport tiny buds, which will become the next season’s greenery. Flowering shrubs often set their buds months before they bloom. They sit patiently, awaiting the time of their awakening. After years of watching the cycle repeat, I look forward with confidence to the beauty to come.

I find bulbs and seeds to be equally remarkable. They don’t look like much, but each holds the promise of what it will become. Given time and the proper conditions, even the tiniest of seeds will produce a towering tree with branches to provide shelter for nesting birds (Mark 40:30-32).

His Life in Us

The introductory verse above from Galatians affirms the status of those who believe in Christ as Savior. We are alive in Him. And though we will continue to struggle with sin as long as we’re in the flesh, God already counts us righteous because of Jesus’ sacrifice. The Spirit is at work within us, with the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19-20), transforming us more and more into the image of the Son.

Just as the promise of what will be resides in buds and bulbs and seeds, we have the assurance that He who began a good work in us will see it through to completion (Philippians 1:6).

Aspirations

The first half of Acts chapter 4 describes an occasion when Jewish religious leaders arrested Peter and John, then summoned them to give an account of healing a crippled man (Acts 4:1-22). No matter how much the leaders threatened them, they boldly proclaimed the power of Jesus and His resurrection, giving Him full credit for their ability to heal.

Verse 13 has always inspired me:  Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus. (Emphasis mine.)

That’s me, common and ordinary, nothing of my own to boast about (Ephesians 2:8-9), but I want to look different – to captivate others with the beauty and aroma of Christ – because I’ve been with Him.  

Blessed to Be a Blessing

Both the current sermon series at our church[1] and a Bible study[2] I’m in have included the message that God chose a people for Himself, not to take them out of the world immediately, but to join Him in reconciling the nations to Himself.

While we live as sojourners between the now and not yet, we’re called to manifest signs of the life of Christ in us, always ready to give a reason for our hope (1 Peter 3:15). Paul tells us we’re God’s workmanship in Christ and that He prepared good works for us to carry out (Ephesians 2:10). According to James, good works provide evidence of a faith that’s alive and well (James 2:14-26).

Likewise, the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control –  reflects our abiding dependence on the One who makes all things new, including us.

So, dear readers, won’t you join me in endeavoring to embrace and embody who we are in Christ, that our lives might bear much fruit for Him?

Dear Lord, what a gift You give us in the beauty of springtime when reminders of Jesus’ resurrection are all around us. Thank You for the assurance we have in Him that we too will be raised to eternal life. Until then, please help us to exhibit unmistakable signs of His life in us to a watching world.


[1] “Our Shared Life and Mission in the Peacemaking Christ, A Sermon Series in Ephesians,” Pastor David Donovan, Grace Covenant Church.

[2] “From Garden to Glory,” Courtney Doctor, Committee on Discipleship Ministries, 2016.

Finding Rest, Part 1

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

Wired to Work

I’ve often said over the years, “I’m wired to work,” followed quickly by, “I come by it honestly.” Mom and Dad were both hard-working people, as were their parents. I’m not good at resting, at least not if there’s something that needs to be done – and there’s always something that needs doing.

There are times when I’m more accepting of my limitations, times when I can focus on the things I accomplished in a given day, instead of the ones still looming on my never-ending list. Then again, there are periods when the tasks at hand consume both waking hours and those when I should be sleeping. I toss and turn instead, plagued by a sense of inadequacy.

The past year has provided ample opportunities for such middle-of-the-night ruminations. Mom’s decline and passing, helping Dad navigate life without her while dealing with my own grief, the after-effects of Dad’s stroke, taking on more responsibility for the details of his life, running two households. Bind it all together with uncertainty regarding what will happen on a given day, and you’ve got anything but a formula for rest.

At least from a finite human perspective.

Invitation to Rest

The introductory passage from Matthew is one of my favorites. Our gentle, compassionate Savior bids us come to Him for rest, rest for our souls. Though physical rest is essential, rest for our souls is the kind we need most when we get bogged down with worries and cares, waking up in the middle of the night wondering if things will work out or how we’ll ever get it all done.

News flash: we won’t get it all done – even Jesus didn’t do everything – but it will all work out for good (Romans 8:28).

The Apostle Peter extends an invitation similar to that of Jesus: “Cast all your anxieties on him.” Why? “Because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7) When I’m awake in the wee hours, I’ll often begin my prayers with, “Lord, I need to cast my cares on You,” and then I proceed to convey all the things that are weighing heavily on my mind. I imagine Him tenderly collecting them. As the burden lifts, I eventually drift back to sleep.

In yet another passage, the Apostle Paul speaks of our need to bring our troubles to God: “Do not be anxious about anything, 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 understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7)

Pockets of Refreshment

I’m blessed to have friends who faithfully pray for me. One such prayer warrior recently texted me:  “You are used to an ordered life, and right now things are coming at you so frequently your life feels uncontrolled, and I know that is upsetting. I’m praying that God gives you the strength, the grace, and the wisdom to discern the things that must be done each day. I pray that He gives you pockets of time to regroup and have quiet times.”

Her words were like a soothing balm. Not only did she acknowledge how challenging things have become, but she also assured me she was interceding for me. And she gave me a different perspective, a new concept to ponder, “pockets of time.”

A whole day at home is splendid; a week at the beach would be even better, but I’m finding shorter periods can be restorative, especially if I steward them well. Quiet times to write, work in my garden, or go for a walk allow me to be still in the Lord’s presence, to listen for the Spirit’s comforting reminders of His promises.

I’ve come to think of these times as “pockets of refreshment.”

I don’t know what refreshment looks like for you, dear reader. Maybe you like to curl up with a good book or have lunch with a friend or work in your garden, like me. Regardless, as children of the King, we know true refreshment comes from spending time with Him.

How blessed we are that He invites us to do so!

Dear Lord, thank you for welcoming us into Your presence where we can find rest for our weary souls. Please help us not to be anxious, but to turn to You for peace that passes understanding, peace that can’t be found in the world or ourselves or another person.

Hide and Seek, Reprise

 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.
1 John 4:18-20

Let’s Hide!

One of the earliest and most endearing games we play with babies involves disappearing behind our hands only to reappear moments later, smiling and exclaiming, “peek-a-boo!” We repeat the sequence of movements multiple times, rewarded by baby’s surprised chuckles.

Before long, infants turn into mobile toddlers, able to participate in the hiding aspect of the game. Hide-and-seek became my grandchildren’s oft-requested favorite, complete with random-number counting and much laughter while scurrying to find the perfect hiding spot. Shrieks were just as likely to accompany finding as being found.

Sometimes the hiding wasn’t all that effective. For instance, even though a blanket would cover most of a tiny body, a foot might remain visible. Or, try as I might, I couldn’t fully wedge myself between the wall and the recliner when the little people were hunting me.

And then there were times when I wandered around, pretend-seeking the hidden one, musing, “Hmm, I wonder where (insert grandchild’s name) is?” The confident, she-can’t-find-me laughter that followed allowed me to zero in like a honey bee to its hive. More laughter, then, “Let’s hide again, Grammie!”

Child’s Play?

The first recorded episode of hide-and-seek was no child’s game. It was unplanned, and it certainly wasn’t accompanied by laughter unless it was the nervous kind borne of embarrassment. Genesis 3 recounts the story of the Fall. Satan, disguised as a serpent, engaged Eve in a doubt-God’s-goodness conversation – surely it wasn’t proper for God to withhold something as delightful as the forbidden fruit? Sadly, it didn’t take much to convince Eve of her right to partake. She ate and then shared the bounty with Adam (verses 1-6).

Oh, their eyes were opened, just like Satan promised. But instead of reveling in their newfound enlightenment, they were overcome with shame as they realized they were naked (verse 7a). Knowing God would soon arrive for His daily garden stroll, they hastily covered themselves with leafy loincloths and hid (verses 7b-8).

Guilt or Shame?

We’ve been hiding from God and each other ever since, haven’t we? Afraid if people knew our shortcomings and the secret sins that plague us, they’d turn away.

Guilt is a helpful, God-given poke to our conscience, convicting us of specific wrongdoing, leading us to confess, repent, seek forgiveness, and be restored to fellowship with God and others. By contrast, shame condemns, whispering some variation of, “You’re bad, and you always will be,” to our weary souls. Despite our best efforts, we just can’t rid ourselves of that sense of not measuring up, the vague feeling of not fitting in or meeting expectations.

So we cover up and keep our distance, as we strive to maintain an acceptable facade at all times, even, or maybe especially, at church where it seems like everyone else has it all together. We hide in our respective caves, safe but so alone.

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Even though we usually don’t want to be found out, we do want to be found.

Praise God for coming to the garden in the cool of that fateful day, like He always had before. He sought His wayward children, even though He already knew of Adam and Eve’s disobedience, the extreme pain it would cause their offspring, and the price He Himself would pay to redeem them (John 3:16). He came bearing a perfect plan and the promise of better garments. The seed of the woman would one day crush the head of the serpent so all of God’s children could be robed in the righteousness of His beloved Son (Genesis 3:15).

Jesus, the Good Shepherd who came to seek the lost (Luke 19:10). The unblemished Lamb, slain for us (John 1:29). The Risen Savior who bids us come that we might find rest for our souls (Matthew 11:29). He knows the very worst about us, but calls us from darkness into light (Isaiah 9:2, John 1:5), to be cleansed by His precious blood that He might present us spotless before God (Ephesians 5:25-27).

Jesus is the safest of safe places for the children of God (John 3:17; Romans 8:1).

Becoming a Safe Place

Scripture is clear that we are to be conformed to the likeness of our elder brother (Romans 8:29), transformed by the renewing of our minds (Romans 12:2). So how can we become safe places for fellow, flawed sojourners, afraid to come out of their caves? Scripture instructs us to:

  • Practice humility, considering others’ needs, hurts, and heartaches before our own (Philippians 2:3-4). Each one of us is dealing with things known only to God (Psalm 139:1-3, 23-24).
  • Judge not, remembering all we’ve been forgiven (Matthew 7:1-5; Luke 6:37-38). Though our sins may differ from those of our brothers and sisters in Christ, we’re all sinners saved by grace (Isaiah 53:6; Romans 3:23).
  • Be willing to become vulnerable, stewarding our own stories well as we share examples of God’s goodness, faithfulness, even discipline, across the years we’ve walked with Him (Psalm 78).

May we live in such a way that it’s safer, indeed more desirable, for those tempted to hide to come out of their caves, into the light of the One who will not break a bruised reed or quench a smoldering wick (Isaiah 42:3).

Dear Lord, as Your chosen people, holy and dearly loved, please help us clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with and forgiving each other as You’ve forgiven us. And, by the power of Your Spirit, help us put on love, which binds all these virtues together in perfect unity. (Colossians 3:12-14)

Look Up!

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
Psalm 121:1-2

The Long-lost Rug

This time 50 years ago, my parents and I were living in Argentina. Dad was working for a subsidiary of his US employer, and Mom and I were along for the 2-year adventure. We made use of school holidays to travel around Argentina and to other Latin American countries. And, as most tourists are wont to do, we accumulated plenty of souvenirs. One of our favorites was a llama-skin rug that depicted a woman tending one of the furry pack animals.

Mom and Dad used it as a wall-hanging when we returned to the States, and then at some point, my husband and I took possession of it. The rug hung on our wall for a while, but there was no place for it when we moved from Delaware to Georgia, so we returned it to my parents.

Then somehow, it disappeared.

Occasionally the rug would come up in conversation, and we’d muse, “Whatever happened to it?” Some good-natured banter would follow the question:

“I think you have it.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I gave it back to you.”

“Well, wherever it is, we haven’t seen it for years!”

So it went until one day last month when I was searching for something in my late mother’s closet. I looked up, and there it was, neatly folded on the top shelf! I’m not sure why Mom tucked it away in there with her clothes, but I felt like I’d found a long-lost treasure and couldn’t wait to tell my family about the discovery.

The Dark Hole is Real

I don’t know about you, but it seems like at least once a week, I or someone else in my family will bemoan the fact we’ve misplaced something. Sometimes we’ll find the missing item in relatively short order. Then again, there are times when objects remain lost for weeks, months, or even years, like the llama rug. We refer to this as “the dark hole syndrome,” as in “the dark hole ate it.”

A few days after locating the rug, I began helping my dad prepare to move into assisted living. His new apartment has a small porch that is still big enough to accommodate two of his deck chairs. I offered to get some cushions to make the metal seats more comfortable. Dad replied that he already had some, and we proceeded to hunt for them.

We searched in all the logical places – in the basement where he kept the patio set, in the garage, in the storage area tucked under the stairs – all to no avail.

“Chalk up another one for the dark hole,” Dad sighed.

I’ve made almost-daily trips between Dad’s house and his apartment, picking up necessities as well as niceties he forgot to include in the initial transport of stuff. I was standing in his closet, talking to him on the phone as he gave me instructions about where to find that day’s requested item. I looked up and started laughing.

“Guess what I just found!”

“What?”

“The chair cushions!!”

“Where?!”

“On the top shelf in your closet! I need to start looking up more instead of straight ahead all the time.”

A Spiritual Parallel

The words had barely left my mouth when a spiritual application occurred to me. Too often, when faced with a challenging situation, I focus on the dilemma in front of me. Instead of taking a Biblical perspective, I become mired in the what-ifs and oh-nos. The dark hole of doubt swallows up what I know to be true about God as surely as my family’s fictional dark hole occasionally devours objects.

But when I look up, I remember I’m not alone. My help comes from the Lord, the very Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm121:1-2).

Furthermore, the Spirit gently reminds me of the truth found in the Apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians:

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

The things pressing in on me will soon pass, whereas those currently hidden or out of focus will become clear and constant (1 Corinthians 13:12). God’s promises and assurances are always there, ready to be seen by enlightened eyes of faith if we’ll simply look up.

Dear Lord, please enlighten the eyes of our hearts that we may know the hope you’ve called us to, the glorious riches of our inheritance in Christ, and the immeasurable greatness of Your power toward us who believe (Ephesians 1:18-19).

Snow Day

Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10

Soul-soothing Scene

It’s a rare snow day here in metro-Atlanta. I’ve spent the past several hours at my kitchen table, where I have a front-row seat to the view unfolding in my woods. The forecasted wintry mix greeted me when I came downstairs this morning, but the temperature has dropped since, and the precipitation has gradually changed to snow.

Watching the gently falling flakes soothes my soul. Somehow it always seems quieter, more peaceful when it’s snowing. And oh, how I need some soul-soothing peace and quiet after the past week.

A Monumental Move

In my last post, I alluded to upcoming changes.[1] We were fortunate to find a compassionate, experienced live-in caregiver to stay with my 90-year-old father after his stroke last fall. However, it became evident over the ensuing weeks that staying in the big house he and Mom shared for the past 24 years wasn’t the preferred long-term solution.[2]

Thankfully, the stroke did minimal lasting harm, but lingering cognitive issues and potent blood thinners make it inadvisable for Dad to live by himself. Thus, at his suggestion, we found an assisted living facility with a cozy one-bedroom apartment and set about planning for his move.

Details, Details

In reality, after we signed the contract, arranging all the details associated with the move became my responsibility since Dad is now easily confused by such minutiae. Informing his caregiver, hiring movers, filling out all sorts of paperwork, obtaining medical records and health screenings – the list was long. And, once we agreed on the move date, there was little room for error.

One week out, I began to wake up at night, mentally reviewing the requirements and deadlines. Sometimes I drifted back to sleep quickly, having successfully cast my cares upon the Lord (1 Peter 5:7), while other nights, my wakefulness stretched from minutes into hours.

Nevertheless, the process was moving along in a timely manner. Then, with less than 24 hours before the movers were scheduled to arrive, it looked like everything would derail. There was confusion regarding one of Dad’s prescriptions, so his primary care physician wouldn’t sign off on the paperwork required for the assisted living staff to administer his medication. The bloodwork for his TB screening was “indeterminate,” so I had to take him for a chest x-ray. We arrived less than half an hour before the imaging facility closed. And then there was the potential stopper of all stoppers: the result of his Covid test. Would it and the chest x-ray arrive in time? Would they be negative?

Oh Me of Little Faith

My anxiety sky-rocketed. I expect my blood pressure was off the charts too. I flung multiple prayers heavenward and kept going. Thoughts such as, “What if Dad’s stuff gets moved to his new apartment and his Covid results are positive and he can’t go?” ran rampant. Though the what-ifs almost overcame me, I didn’t cancel the movers. I continued to pray and sent an SOS to several of my staunchest prayer warriors, pleading with them to join me.

Several hours later, as I was organizing piles and emptying drawers in preparation for the movers’ arrival, the peace that had eluded me earlier quieted my anxious thoughts. Although it was fine for me to outline specific details in my prayers, by rehearsing them incessantly, I was acting as if God didn’t already know each one, as well as their ramifications, even better than I did. That acknowledgment, coupled with prayers that His will be done, finally squelched my stress. I knew if it was His will for Dad to move the next day, nothing would prevent it, and if it wasn’t, then God had a good reason for him not to go.

I awoke early the following day and checked my email. The PCR test results were available. I prayed as I scrolled and rejoiced when I saw: NEGATIVE. Other messages conveyed more good news: the chest x-ray was clear, and Dad’s PCP had signed the requisite paperwork. Dad could make the move along with his things.

Dust Moments

As is often the case when I’ve worry-warted over a critical outcome, the tears that instantly sprang to my eyes were a combination of relief and thankfulness mixed with remorse for doubting God and not trusting Him completely with the situation.

Several days later, I realized when I become anxiously frantic, the underlying cause is usually a subconscious assumption: “It’s all up to me. If I fail, all is lost. The world, or at least my little corner of it, is depending on me to hold it together.”

After nearly 50 years of walking with the Lord, you would think I would have outgrown such unfounded, even arrogant, notions. In fact, I took an intense refresher course this time last year as Mom was living out her final weeks.[3] But, alas, it appears I  have to relearn the lesson periodically.

And so I’m thankful for my compassionate heavenly Father, Who is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Exodus 34:6). He knows I’m dust and loves me anyway (Psalm 103:13-14).

His Part, My Part

From my vantage point at the table, I’ve not only been able to watch the snow, but I’ve also been able to keep an eye on the birds. They descended on the feeders as soon as I returned them to their hooks this morning, and there has been a steady stream of hungry visitors ever since.

Observing them and writing about the past week’s events reminded me of a recent conversation with my grandchildren. We were talking about pets and noted I no longer have any furry house companions.

I added, “But I have my birds! They’re my outside pets.”

Five-year-old Emma quipped, “Those aren’t your birds, Grammie. Those are the world’s birds.”

I acceded, “You’re right, Emma. They’re God’s birds, but He lets me help take care of them.”

And so it is with my loved ones. They belong to Him, and He allows me to help take care of them. He has a plan for them and me, and His purposes will prevail (Isaiah 55:8-11).

Heavenly Father, thank You for the quiet beauty of this day and the opportunity to be still in Your presence. Thank You that You are our compassionate Father, well-acquainted with the frailties of our finite flesh, yet always abounding in love for Your children.


[1] Please see “Age-old Assurances for a New Year.”

[2] Mom passed away last April.

[3] Please see “Who’s in Control?” in Archives, September 2021.