You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:14-16
I opened the car door to put something in the backseat the day after I had taken my granddaughters to dance. I saw three tiny shimmers on the seat and smiled. They were sequins from Lyla‘s recital costume, and they weren’t the first sparkles to detach themselves and remain at my house. I’ve found them in my kitchen, upstairs in my TV room, and one even made it onto my bathroom counter. I think it may have stuck to me when I hugged Lyla goodbye one evening and hitched a ride upstairs!
Finding these sparkles always makes me smile because they remind me of my beloved granddaughter. Her kind heart and sweet smile brighten many of my days.
I had the opportunity to sit in on two of the end-of-year rehearsals as Lyla and her dancemates prepared for their recital. The instructor reminded all the girls to smile during their performance. Of course, my eyes were fixed on Lyla while they went through their routine. She smiled throughout, just as the teacher had requested, but I knew her smile wasn’t forced. It was coming from the joy she carries inside.
Even at her young age, Lyla is a life-giver. She cares about others and is a blessing to those around her in both big and small ways.
I was privileged to serve as Shepherd for Lyla’s American Heritage Girls troop last year. Each week, I tried to prepare a short, meaningful devotional that would hold the girls’ interest and give them something to think about. Attention varied across my audience, but inevitably, when my around-the-room gaze found Lyla, she was looking at me and listening attentively, offering silent affirmation of my efforts.
I used to tell my now-adult daughters to treat others in such a way they’d be glad to see them, not whisper, “Oh no! Here come those Kuipers girls again!” That was long before I heard the concept of being a life-giver or life-taker, but I knew it was in keeping with Jesus’ instructions to be light in this dark world.
I recently visited Paris, nicknamed the City of Light. Though some sources confirm my guess that it earned the title because it was a center for education and ideas during the Age of Enlightenment, others say it came about because King Louis XIV ordered almost 3,000 street lanterns be erected to light Paris brightly at night to prevent criminals from hiding in the shadows and thus stem the crime wave rampant in the city.
Conquering the darkness. Isn’t that what Jesus did? He is the Light of the world (John 8:12). John tells us that the darkness will not overcome the Light, ever (John 1:5.) In fact, when Jesus returns, the night will be no more, and we’ll no longer need the light from lamp or sun. He will be our Light forever (Revelation 22:5).
While we wait for that glorious day, may we walk as children of light, sprinkling life-giving sparkles everywhere like Lyla’s sequins and smiles, pointing others to the hope we have in Jesus. For at one time we were darkness, but now we are light in the Lord (Ephesians 5:8).
Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers. Proverbs 17:6
Losing my job had an upside I couldn’t imagine the afternoon my supervisor informed me that the company I’d worked for for 30 years no longer required my services or expertise. God knew I was needed elsewhere. My daughter Mary was early in her first pregnancy when I lost my job and was looking forward to having me around more often. She gave birth to Joshua, my first grandchild, six months later. For eleven years, until all the children were in school, I spent two days a week at Mary’s house, first with Joshua, then later with three little ones when his two sisters joined the mix. We looked forward to those days and came to refer to them as Grammie days.
Several summers ago, I became aware of a “whoosh” whenever I stepped out the front door onto their small porch. I soon realized I was being strafed by a mamma bird who’d built her nest in an eave of the entryway. She picked a perfect place. Not only were she and her carefully constructed home sheltered from the elements and out of reach of any passing predators, but we could observe from inside the house without disturbing her. My son-in-law Justin peeked into the nest when mamma bird was away and found five tiny eggs. We watched as she faithfully warmed and protected the eggs. One day we saw five little heads, mouths agape, as the babies begged for food. Mamma bird diligently cared for her brood. The little ones thrived under her care. Then, one day, I went over, and the porch was quiet.
They were gone.
Even though we human mothers have years to nurture our children, time passes so quickly that it sometimes seems it’s only days, like the time it took the mother bird to raise her young. Over the years, I’ve shared this bittersweet sentiment with other mothers: “If we do our job well, the result is an independent adult.” Mothering requires a balance of holding on and letting go and the wisdom to know which to employ at any particular time in our children’s lives. It’s a difficult but necessary process.
Yet my dear mother often said, “Once a mother, always a mother,” a statement as valid as the one I wrote above. We hold our children close in our hearts and prayers regardless of their life stages, ready to assist if called on. I’m quite sure the mamma bear syndrome knows no age limits. After all, of the many people who were upset when my 30-year career ended via termination, Mom was the most incensed by the treatment I’d received. Though tiny, she was my staunchest defender until her passing three years ago. Likewise, I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting my kids and grandkids!
It’s that time of year – the time of graduations and weddings. So, for you mothers reading this and contemplating the emptying of your nests, I offer this: one day, you may realize the independent adult you worked so long and hard to raise has become one of your very best friends. Someone who brings joy to your life in new ways as you continue to cheer them on and are blessed by the fruits of your labors and theirs.
I vividly remember driving home after Mary and Justin’s wedding. I thought, “That’s it. I gave her away. It’s all over.” I was so wrong. I gained a son that night, and then came three brand new people whom I’m blessed to know and spend time with. Though my nest emptied years ago when my daughters graduated from college and established their own households, Mary and Justin’s nest is full, and I am welcome there. Welcome to help nurture a new generation and introduce them to plants and mamma birds and to their Savior, the One who loves them even more than I do.
Occasionally, I’ll take a devotional I’ve prepared for a women’s event, make a few edits, and use it as a blog post. This is one of those times. It’s a bit longer and not as tidy as usual, grammatically. Still, I hope you can imagine yourself being part of the group listening to this message on one of my very favorite subjects, passing our faith on to future generations.
As you’ll see, I alternated between reading Scripture and making comments.
24/7
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise (Deuteronomy 6:4-7).
Moses’ directive to teach our children may feel overwhelming because it covers every part of our day. But it is doable! Because God is present and pertinent to every moment of our lives. As many of you know, I love to garden. When I’m outside, many of Jesus’ parables come to life – God’s care for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, how branches can’t survive much less bear fruit if they’re not attached to the vine, the importance of good soil if you want your plants to flourish. And then there’s the vast diversity of plants and animals that God created.
When my grandson Joshua was still a toddler, we made a pact that he would teach me about animals, and I would teach him about plants. It’s worked out great. Not only have we both learned from each other, but many of our conversations include comments about God. We wonder why He made roaches. (Most days, we think they were part of the curse!) We look forward to seeing how everything will fit together when all the plants and animals take their proper places on the new earth. And, when Joshua starts talking about predators, and I lament creatures killing each other, I often quote Isaiah 65:25: “They will not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,” says the Lord, followed by, “I can’t wait!”
Abundant Evidence
You may be thinking, “I’m not a gardener. I don’t particularly like being outside, especially during pollen season!” But listen to this verse from the first chapter of Romans:
For (God’s) invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So (we) are without excuse (Romans 1:20).
That verse certainly speaks about creation – all the world around us, the heavens, oceans, mountains, plants, animals – but God also created us, and, as Psalm 139:14 states, we’re fearfully and wonderfully made. So, we can talk to our children about how wonderfully God made our bodies. We get well when we’re sick. Cuts and broken bones heal. And how about the miracle of sleep? We’re unaware of the world for hours at a time and then wake up again. I think that’s amazing!
I’ve been blessed this year to be the troop shepherd for the American Heritage Girls troop that meets at our church. Each week, when I prepared the devotional, I found Scriptures that related to what we were doing, regardless of the week’s focus. Subjects ranged from our identity in Christ to architecture to world cultures and aspects of our Oath and Creed. The latter features characteristics that we’re trying to develop in our lives so we’re more like Jesus, things like compassion, honesty, loyalty, perseverance, and helpfulness. In the last devotional for the year, I told the girls I hoped they’d been able to see how God’s inspired Word applies to all of life.
Spiritual Legacy
Give ear, O my people, to my teaching; incline your ears to the words of my mouth! I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and known, that our fathers have told us. We will not hide them from their children, but tell to the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done. He established a testimony in Jacob and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers to teach to their children, that the next generation might know them, the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments Psalm 78:1-7
We’re commanded to tell the next generation about God and His mighty deeds – personal stories recounting how God has worked in your life and been faithful to you and your family. Most of us would say we want to leave a material legacy of some sort for our offspring. However, a spiritual legacy is even more significant because it has eternal value. It’s part of the treasure Jesus commanded us to store up in heaven, a treasure that can’t rust or decay or be stolen (Matthew 6:19-21). I know my grandparents were Christians, so my grandchildren are at least the fifth successive generation who’ve been told the mighty deeds of the Lord. I pray that our family’s heritage of faith will continue until Jesus returns, regardless of how many generations are yet to come.
Overflowing with Thankfulness
Going back to Deuteronomy chapter 6, we see the following warning:
“And when the Lord your God brings you into the land that he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, to give you—with great and good cities that you did not build, and houses full of all good things that you did not fill, and cisterns that you did not dig, and vineyards and olive trees that you did not plant—and when you eat and are full, then take care lest you forget the Lord, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery (Deuteronomy 6:10-12).
We’re in danger of forgetting that God is the source of all good gifts, aren’t we? When things are going well and we’re thriving, we tend to think it’s due to our actions and that we’ve got it all under control. One way to combat that wrong thinking and to share our faith is to openly and frequently praise and thank God for His many blessings, acknowledging that all we have and are is from Him and encouraging our children and grandchildren to do the same.
Furthermore, we, too, were enslaved until God rescued us from the bondage of sin. The fact that He transferred our citizenship to the kingdom of His beloved Son is reason enough to rejoice and give thanks every day (Colossians 1:13-14).
The Danger of Misplacing the Word
This spring, we’ve been studying “What a Royal Mess“ in Bible study.[1] The lessons take us through Israel’s history, focusing on the ups and downs associated with some of the kings of Israel and Judah. Often, it was a mess because many of the kings were evil and led the people in worshiping other gods. After God gave the Law, He gave further instructions, including this message for Israel’s kings:
And when he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself in a book a copy of this law, approved by the Levitical priests. And it shall be with him, and he shall read in it all the days of his life, that he may learn to fear the Lord his God by keeping all the words of this law and these statutes, and doing them (Deuteronomy 17:18-19).
Fast forward several hundred years, Josiah is on the throne in Judah, and Hilkiah, the high priest, found the Book of the Law in the temple when renovations began. When he read it to Josiah, one of the few good kings, Josiah tore his clothes in dismay because he realized God’s people had been far from obeying its contents. To say Hilkiah found the Book of the Covenant implies that it had been lost and certainly not kept on hand, much less read, by the kings who preceded Josiah. It’s no wonder the people had gone astray without God’s Word to guide them. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be the generation that misplaces God’s Word for the next generation.
This sobering reminder takes us back to where we began, emphasizing the importance of one generation telling the next about God, His Word, His abundant blessings, and the need to obey Him. We must practice seeing and sharing how God, His ways, and His glory are apparent in all aspects of our lives. The more we practice seeing, the more we’re able to see.
Another beautiful thing about sharing with our children and grandchildren is that in reminding them, we’re also reminding ourselves, creating a delightful process of growing together. I hope I’ve given you plenty of ideas and reasons to do so. 😊
[1] Susan Tyner, “What a Royal Mess, A Study of 1 and 2 Kings,” (Lawrenceville, GA: CDM, 2023)
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4
The end of March inevitably brings with it a sense of melancholy. The foreboding creeps up on me, gradually increasing, until I realize, “Oh, it’s almost April again.”
Mom and I used to dread the arrival of the last week of October each year since her parents and my paternal grandfather passed away on the 25th, 27th, and 30th of different years, but April long ago superseded October when it comes to personal losses.
My beloved husband, Ray, went Home on April 19, 1997, two months after his 39th birthday, stricken by a fatal heart attack. His passing forever severed my life into before-and-after pieces.
Ten years ago, a dear sister-in-law fell while helping Ray’s brother reroof a building on their farm. Marcia succumbed to her injuries on April 12, 2014.
Three years ago, my dear little mom fell and broke her hip on April 20th, my dad’s 90th birthday. Though she survived the surgery to repair her hip, her body and mind were too fragile to recover, and she entered the presence of Jesus on April 30, 2021.
And now here we are, April 2024, the first April of my life that I won’t be able to celebrate Dad’s birthday with him. Though he joined Mom in Glory last July, his birthday will be forever linked to the final days of Mom and Ray’s lives.
That listing may feel like cold, just-the-facts reporting, but I can assure you each one of those losses packs a powerful gut punch regardless of how long my loved ones have been gone. Having missed Ray for 27 years, I know the longing to see Mom, Dad, and others who have gone Home won’t fade away either.
As hard as the losses have been and as deep as the lingering grief is, I know there’s a day coming when I will see my loved ones again. I can be confident because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And when the day of His promised return arrives, there will be no more death or tears or pain or suffering! Whenever I think about it or read the passage in Revelation 21, I want to shout, “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Come, Lord Jesus!!”
Yet, I can’t gloss over the pain of loss because to do so would be to minimize the penalty of sin as well as the ultimate sacrifice it cost Jesus to save us (Genesis 2:16-17; Isaiah 53:5-6; Romans 3:23). Death hurts because it was never part of God’s good plan. Watching our loved ones’ health decline hurts because we weren’t supposed to get old and sick. Missing them hurts because we were never supposed to be separated – from them or God.
We’re in good company when we lament the passing of our loved ones. Even though Jesus knew He would raise His friend, Lazarus, He had great compassion toward his sisters and wept outside his tomb (John 11:32-35).
However, we can grieve with hope because death doesn’t get the final say (John 11:25-26; 1 Corinthians 15).
A friend was visiting the other day and commented on how beautiful my flowers are. I thanked her and explained that April is a bittersweet month for me. I told her that although I revel in the beauty of springtime, I also associate the season with significant losses. Knowing that I love to garden and surveying the vast array of plants on my little property, she said, “That’s why God gave you all these pretty flowers!”
Her statement affirmed what I’ve often thought, and I replied, “I agree! Everywhere I look, creation is shouting ‘resurrection!’ From the colorful flowers to bright green leaves to baby birds, there’s new life everywhere!”
Dear readers, I expect each one of you has experienced significant loss in your life. Jesus told us that we would have tribulations in this world, but He went on to say, “Take heart, for I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33) We can take comfort in His triumph over tribulations as well as in knowing He’s overcome death, the final enemy. Jesus promised to return and make all things new (Revelation 21:1-5). While we await that glorious day, may we see evidence of His love and care all around us, interwoven with shimmering threads of resurrection realities that provide solace for our hurting hearts.
When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:54-55
There they were, sitting side by side on a sofa at a funeral home – Mom, Dad, and my Aunt Margie, Dad’s only remaining sibling. The occasion? The service for another of his sisters. A solemn thought pervaded my soul later that evening when I gazed at the photo capturing the moment. Mom was one of eight siblings, and Dad was one of ten. Eighteen siblings had been reduced to three, and, given their ages and the relentless march of time, I knew they, too, were drawing near to the end even if the Lord blessed them with several more years.
That was January 2020. Mom passed in April 2021, Dad in July 2023, and Aunt Margie joined the family circle on high ten days ago. Oh, how it hurts to write those words and contemplate the void left in our family. A whole generation is no longer with us.
But what a generation it was! Dad’s family line-up began with two older brothers, followed by four older sisters. Dad came next, the eldest of the four younger boys. The siblings who preceded Dad served in WW II. Uncle Harry was in the army and helped liberate one of the concentration camps. Uncle Fred flew numerous bombing missions. Meanwhile, the sisters worked for the Justice Department in Washington, DC. The younger brothers served our country in later conflicts and times of peace.
With birth dates ranging from 1916 to 1937, Dad and his siblings lived through the hardships of The Great Depression. Their experiences during that tough time and humble beginnings in rural North Carolina undoubtedly shaped their values. During his eulogy for Dad, one of my cousins described him and his siblings with three Ds: Duty to country, devotion to family, and dedication to their chosen professions.
Aunt Margie
I could say so much more about my aunts and uncles, but I want to turn my attention to Aunt Margie.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve known Aunt Margie was a widow who raised four children on her own. My admiration of her as a single mother grew exponentially when I, too, was widowed at a young age and started raising my two elementary-aged daughters alone. Knowing she’d persevered for years and seeing how my cousins turned out inspired me to keep going. It wasn’t until I read Aunt Margie’s obituary that I realized she began her solo journey at an even younger age than I did – 33 years vs 38.
But that wasn’t the only area where Aunt Margie’s determination encouraged me. Like me, she loved to work in her yard and continued to do so well into her 80s.
Mom and Dad kept in touch with Aunt Margie and would fill me in on their conversations, including reports of “Margie was out working in her yard again!” which they inevitably conveyed in concerned tones. My enthusiastic reply? “Good for her! I hope I’m able to do the same!”
I felt a similar sense of, “You go, girl!” when I read this section from Aunt Margie’s obituary:
She didn’t care for Pilates or yoga, and she absolutely despised having to do physical therapy after a fall. She preferred to get her exercise by planting, weeding, and tending her flowers and vegetable garden, and insisted on mowing her yard with a push mower. Her approach to physical fitness served her well, as evidenced by her longevity.
Grandmama
Speaking of longevity, though Dad was the only one of the male siblings to make it into their 90s, all four of his sisters did. Two passed away within days of their 94th birthdays, while the other two made it to 95. And Grandmama, who bore those ten children, surpassed them all. She lived 95 years and 10 months, six months longer than Aunt Margie.
Though I have fond memories of visiting Grandmama when I was a child, I treasure the times I visited her as an adult, especially when it was just the two of us. She’s been gone 30 years, but even now, as I type, I can envision her serene countenance and see the Bible she kept on the table next to her favorite chair. I recall the softness of her skin as I held her hand during our quiet chats.
Another memory comes into focus, one of a visit my husband Ray and I paid her. When our visit was over, Grandmama walked us to the door. As we lingered on the porch, saying our reluctant goodbyes, she said, “Don’t wait too long to come back to see me. I’m going Home soon.”
I have no doubt that confident assurance contributed to Grandmama’s serenity. After a long and often challenging life, she knew she was nearing Home.
The Ultimate Longevity
It’s been heartbreaking to lose so many loved ones over the years. But death doesn’t get the final say. Regardless of how many years God grants us in this life, they’re a mere drop in the vast ocean of eternal longevity. As I grieve the loss of my last aunt, I’m once again turning to the promise of a grand reunion to assuage my sorrow. If it weren’t for that, our lament would know no solace, but because of it, we can rejoice in knowing that for those who die in Christ, death isn’t the end. It is a most glorious beginning.
Dear Lord, last Sunday, we celebrated Your resurrection. Thank You for conquering death so that we, too, will rise again when You return with glorified bodies like Yours that will never get sick or grow old or die! What a joy to know that we’ll be reunited with our loved ones and live in Your presence forever!
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).
Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6 (NIV).
I’ve been known to gasp over a post-Christmas credit card bill or cringe when writing my annual property tax check, but this may have been a first – tears filled my eyes as I gazed at a deposit to my account. The deposit was present because my husband no longer is.
After dealing with the aftermath of Ray’s sudden death – notifying family and friends, planning and attending his visitation, funeral, and burial services, traveling back and forth to North Carolina – grief clouded my thinking and slowed my body. Not yet able to fully grasp the finality of the situation, I moved through my days moment-by-moment, piecing thoughts and decisions together, struggling to complete a puzzle missing an essential piece.
My parents’ presence not only comforted me, but their clearer minds filled in some of the gaps in my thinking. And so, some ten days after Ray’s passing, at my dad’s urging, we made our way to the Social Security office. I recorded the following in my journal:
“Gathered things to take to meeting with Social Security after I took Mary and Jessie to school – marriage license, passports, M&J’s birth certificates – happy bits of my life, now gathered for a very unhappy purpose.”
Nonetheless, thankfulness and relief washed over me when I heard my minor daughters qualified to receive monthly benefits, based on their dad’s earnings, until their 18th birthdays. I received a small, one-time widow’s stipend along with the news that I would be eligible to collect Ray’s benefits when I reached age 60, at least if I hadn’t remarried by then. Remarrying seemed highly improbable. Like a swan, I felt I mated once, for life. Regardless, my 60th birthday loomed 22 years in the future, a distant speck on a 21st-century calendar, so I filed that bit of information in the far reaches of my mind.
I dedicated myself to raising my daughters, completed a 30-year career at a large corporation, returned to school to study horticulture, and became “Grammie” to three precious little ones. All the while, the calendar pages kept turning with increasing velocity until that distant speck became an entry on my planner, “me – 60!!” Once again, I gathered important documents and went to the Social Security office. Thoughts of the former trip accompanied me, as did so many similar emotions, which became barely-contained tears as I resolutely recounted my story to the kind agent who entered my claim.
Several months later, the first deposit appeared on the designated date, eliciting the tears mentioned above. Ray’s benefits, based on his years of diligent work, were credited to my account. I had done nothing to earn them other than being his widow and believing that the benefits would be there as promised.
Each year, as the April 19th anniversary of Ray’s death approaches, I intentionally think back to my last week with him and my first one without him. My annual remembrance occurs in the same season as Holy Week, another time of intentional remembrance, though the exact dates of the latter change from year to year. From Palm Sunday to Good Friday, I recall the events of each day of Jesus’ final week, all He endured to save me, a destitute sinner with no hope of saving up any treasure worthy of entering the Father’s presence.
And then comes Resurrection Sunday! What joy and gratitude fill my heart, knowing Jesus’ sacrifice paid my debt and credited His perfect righteousness to my account, an account that now overflows with eternal blessings.
Indeed, Jesus’ sinless life, atoning death, and subsequent resurrection guarantee numerous benefits for those who belong to Him. Consider, for example:
Peace with God – Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). (See also Luke 2:14; Romans 15:13)
Forgiveness – To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name (Acts 10:43). (See also Ephesians 1:7; Colossians 1:13-14)
God’s abiding presence now – And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20b). (See also Deuteronomy 31:8)
and forever – Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God (Revelation 21:1-3).
An eternal home – In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).
An imperishable body – Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality (1 Corinthians 15:51-53. (See 1 Corinthians 15:35-58 for the full description of the change we can look forward to.)
An eternal inheritance – Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time (1 Peter 1:3-5).
I’m grateful to receive Ray’s Social Security payments. They connect me to him and remind me of his love and care while he was with me. But each month, when I see that deposit on my statement, it also reminds me of the One who is my ultimate and eternal Provider, the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), who didn’t spare His only Son, but gave Him up for us all (Romans 8:32) to secure death benefits of the most enduring kind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5
I’m tired. And a bit grumpy. The same thing happens every year when I lose an hour of sleep as we spring forward to Daylight Savings Time. I get out of sorts just thinking about it. But then, when evening of the shortened day descends, and it’s still light after dinner, I remember the benefits of those extra hours of light at the end of the day, including more time to work in my garden and go for walks.
I’ve shared a number of times on these pages that one of the things I like best about living in Georgia is the early arrival of spring and the long bloom season. Granted, the weather usually teases us with a few stretches of warm days followed by a return to near-freezing conditions before the last official frost date, sometimes with dire consequences for the plants that thought spring had arrived to stay.
But not so with the light. After the winter solstice, daylight gradually increases until the summer solstice, when it begins to decline again. My aunt used to give Mom an almanac calendar that noted the daily amount of daylight to the minute. By the end of December each year, Mom would happily report, “The days are getting longer!”
All this thinking about light led me to ponder THE Light.
In one of His discourses with the Pharisees, Jesus declared, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)
The Apostle Paul affirmed our status in his letter to the Colossians: (The Father) has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (Colossians 1:13-14).
Peter also mentioned darkness and light as he described our incredible identity in Christ: But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:9-10).
However, we must not overlook the fact that ushering us into the kingdom of light plunged Jesus into the depths of darkness as He took our sins upon Himself and endured the wrath of God on our behalf, thus removing the barrier between us and the Father:
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” . . . And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom (Mark 15:33-34, 37-38).
The lyrics of a song we sing at church depict the painful separation of Father and Son. The words often bring me to tears as I contemplate the darkness Jesus endured for us:
How deep the Father’s love for us, How vast beyond all measure, That He should give His only Son To make a wretch His treasure. How great the pain of searing loss – The Father turns His face away, As wounds which mar the Chosen One Bring many sons to glory.[1]
Even though Jesus secured victory over death by His sacrifice on the cross, this world is still marred by sin and brokenness. There are times when we experience darkness, collectively as the Body of Christ and individually – illness, disappointments, broken hearts, and dashed dreams. But, the darkness will never overcome the Light. And, as His representatives, we’re to shine brightly, glorifying God and pointing others to the hope we have in Jesus.
In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus declared as much:
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16
Just as Mom used to get excited about the incremental minutes of daylight, we can rejoice in knowing we’re getting ever closer to Jesus’ promised return. The day is coming when darkness will be defeated once and for all, overcome by the brilliance of the spotless Lamb, surrounded by His followers arrayed in radiant robes of righteousness that have been washed in His blood:
And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life (Revelation 21:22-27).
Dear readers, I hope my musings and, more importantly, the passages of Scripture I’ve included in this post will give you some things to consider as we look forward to celebrating Easter later this month. How blessed we are that God loved us so much that He sent His Son to die for us so that we might be welcomed into the kingdom of Light forever!
[1] “How Deep the Father’s Love”, Stuart Townend, 1995 Photo courtesy of Google Images.
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 confidently look forward 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
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 (2 Corinthians 5:17-19).
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 so 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 exhibit unmistakable signs of His life in us to a world in need of hope.
I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever. Psalm 86:12
It wasn’t a chirp or a tweet but an intermittent, melodious trill that caught my attention. The pattern – a snippet of song followed by a moment of silence – repeated several times, causing me to look out the window to see which feathered friend was singing so sweetly. There, perched on the suet, was a Carolina wren, one of the smaller birds that visit the buffet of treats I’ve placed on my deck. I watched him take a nibble (silence), then sing his little song. The endearing sight both charmed and convicted me. Charmed because I imagined the tiny creature thanking the Creator after each bite. Convicted since I know there are times when I fail to express my thankfulness to the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17).
Longtime readers know I’m a ponderer. Thus, my thoughts turned to how I feel when someone doesn’t thank me for a gift or an act of kindness, which quickly led to me remembering the story of Jesus healing ten lepers (Luke 17:11-19). Only one, a Samaritan, came back to thank Jesus. Scripture doesn’t tell us why the other nine didn’t return, so we’re left to surmise their reasons. Maybe they were astonished at being healed, so overwhelmed with joy that they couldn’t wait to show their friends and relatives after they showed themselves to the priests. Who knows how long they’d been outcasts, separated by the uncleanness of the dread disease?
I doubt ingratitude for such a miraculous healing was the main reason they didn’t return, yet Jesus’ question, “Where are the nine?” conveys His disappointment in the behavior of those who went on their merry way. There are times when I’m thankful, but I don’t take the extra step to express that gratitude to God or to the person who’s blessed me. That robs God of the glory He deserves, the other person of the gladness of knowing they made a difference, and me from the delight of counting my blessings and realizing there’s so much more for me than against me!
Expressing gratitude is a joy-producing practice. As Christians, we can start by acknowledging that everything we have and are, from each breath we take to our salvation in Christ and every blessing in between, big or small, are gifts from our gracious heavenly Father (Ephesians 1:3). Then, we can be intentional about recognizing the good gifts others give us, both the material and relational, tangible and intangible.
God deserves all honor, praise, and glory, and we benefit by acknowledging and appreciating all He’s given us. Over the years, studies have shown a correlation between gratitude and emotional well-being, with thankful people being more positive and hopeful.
As we celebrate Valentine’s Day later this week, may we remember that God loved us so much He gave us the most precious gift He could give – His one and only Son (John 3:16). And let us never adopt a sense of entitlement, thinking we deserve the bountiful blessings He bestows upon us. Instead, let us endeavor to cultivate an attitude of gratitude, being thankful for every morsel and miracle He gives us until we find ourselves singing a happy song of thanksgiving like the little wren.
Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name. Psalm 30:4
It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. Deuteronomy 31:8
Holiday Blues
For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.
But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.
Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.
December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.
I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.
Grieving with Hope
After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing: “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”
The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.
After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.
Faithful God
But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.
Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.
Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.
Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!
There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.
Never Alone
There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).
The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.
Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.
Epilog
Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.
Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).
Back 2 the Garden 