Essay

Dust moments

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

My mood was as gray as the rainy day. I thought I got up on the right side of the bed, but a series of small frustrations throughout the morning pushed me to the edge of tears more than once. I made my way to an afternoon appointment safely and was looking forward to a stop at Starbucks afterwards. Sadly, there would be no tea and pumpkin bread for me.

Nothing happened when I tried to start my car . . . absolutely nothing. There are so many things we do without really having to think about them – starting a car is one of them. But when no humming of the engine resulted from my mindless procedure, I began to look at each component of the process. Finding nothing wrong with my method and making note the lights were working indicating the problem most likely wasn’t a dead battery, I gave up and called the car dealer. A service advisor talked me through a few more attempts to start it, to no avail. I’d have to have it towed.

As I awaited the arrival of the tow truck, I did my best to stave off a full-blown pity party. I exhorted myself with truth: “It’s a car.” “It can be fixed or replaced.” “This isn’t what you planned, but you’re not in a hospital with a friend who’s undergoing her last-chance chemo treatment”, which is exactly where one of my dear sisters in Christ was at that very moment. [1]

The tenuous calm I’d talked myself into was short-lived. As the tow truck driver loaded my car, he told me he’d already picked up five of the same make and model that day. In describing what was most likely wrong, he went as far as to say, “Get it fixed and sell it.”

My mind was in turmoil. I like my car A LOT, even though it’s almost 8 years old. It’s sleek and fun to drive. I was hoping he might have been embellishing the situation a bit, but some Googling that evening confirmed a defect so prevalent one consumer group has been pressuring the car maker to issue a recall. So far they’d only extended the warranty on the faulty part to six years, which did me no good. Furthermore, the repair was a pricey one.

Still preaching truth to myself – “We’re not supposed to worry. Trust God for the details!”[2] – I went to bed praying I’d sleep through the night in spite of my troubled mind. Alas, I woke up around 3am and try as I might to pray myself back to sleep, I was still awake when my alarm went off at 6:30am. I listlessly made my way through my morning routine, wondering how I’d ever have the energy to care for my three grandchildren all day.

As I was preparing to walk out the door, my phone rang. My service advisor called to let me know my car was ready to go, repaired at no charge to me under a recently-issued recall. As I thanked him and hung up, I dissolved into tears of gratitude . . . and remorse. Once again I was praying, this time asking God to forgive me for worrying and trying to piece together solutions in the wee hours of the morning. And just as quickly, I felt my Father’s embrace and his sweet assurance that he knows I’m dust.

IMG_2930Psalm 103 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. Verses 13 and 14 are especially dear to me: “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers we are dust.”[3] Even though I’ve walked with the Lord for over 40 years, I still have anxious times of hand wringing, speak words I later regret, behave in ways unbecoming a daughter of the King. I’ve come to refer to such episodes as my dust moments.

IMG_2929My devotional reading that night included these insights from James Packer: “There is unspeakable comfort in knowing that God is constantly taking knowledge of me in love, and watching over me for my good. There is tremendous relief in knowing that his love toward me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench his determination to bless me.”[4]

As two tumultuous days drew to a close, my Father wanted to make sure I got the message: “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know you are dust and I love you anyway. I always will.”

 

[1] Please see “Thrashing about, epilogue” (Archives, February 2016) for more thoughts on keeping things in perspective.

[2] Matthew 6:25-34

[3] NIV translation

[4] James Packer, “Your Father Loves You”, March 8th, Harold Shaw Publishers, Wheaton, IL, 1986.

Bearing all things

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment
One of several varieties of daffodils Ray planted and the earliest to bloom. They come back year after year, a cheerful reminder of him!

One of my favorite things about living in the South is the relatively mild winters. We generally have a handful of bitterly cold days each year, but we’re just as likely to get days with above-average temperatures and early glimpses of spring. This year is no different. We were iced-in the first weekend of the New Year, but have been blessed with many warm, sunny days since. The moderate weather has coaxed a number of plants from their slumber, including daffodils, quince, spirea and my tiny trout lily. I’ve passed pleasant moments strolling around various neighborhoods, my little property and Smith-Gilbert Gardens relishing the re-awakening.

Unfortunately, this is also the time of year when I’m confronted with the results of crape murder, the practice of severely pruning lovely crape myrtles, sometimes back to their main trunks. Oh the carnage! Observing these maimed specimens makes me cringe.

img_2811

One of this year’s victims.

I watched the abused tree whose photograph I featured in the February 2015 post, “Prudent Pruning”, as I passed by it almost daily last summer. Sure enough, it put out new growth, though sadly out of scale with the remaining base, and even bloomed. Such is the case with most crape myrtles. In spite of being mercilessly whacked-back, they persevere and bring forth flowers.

 

As I observed and pondered, I reflected on how some people are much like the crape myrtles. Frequently wounded and taken for granted even by those they love, they nevertheless bear the fruit of the Spirit[1] and the sweet fragrance of life.[2] They faithfully serve, knowing Whom it is they ultimately seek to please.[3]

1 Corinthians 13 is often referred to as the “Love Chapter” and is frequently read at weddings. Verses 4 through 8a describe love as follows:

“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”[4]

Many years ago a Bible study leader suggested to our group that we try reading through these verses using our name, e.g. Patsy is patient and kind, and so forth. We laughed uncomfortably knowing we couldn’t meet those high standards, at least not consistently. Then our leader suggested we substitute “Jesus”. We were quiet as we contemplated the beauty and perfection of our Savior, God’s gift of love incarnate.

He was rejected, misunderstood and beaten. He was betrayed by a kiss from one disciple[5] while another denied ever being with him.[6] Yet he bore all things, most importantly our sins[7], that we might become like him, beloved children of the King, co-heirs with the Son.[8]

Jesus made it clear that the current world order will be turned upside down when he returns – the first shall be last, the least shall be greatest, the meek shall inherit the earth.[9] As we await his promised return, we can be confident we’re not alone.[10] Even now he is seated at the right hand of God[11] interceding for us.[12] Therefore, may we not grow weary in doing good, regardless of the response we receive now, knowing that in due season we will reap if we do not give up.[13]

[1] Galatians 5:22-23a

[2] 2 Corinthians 2:14-15

[3] Colossians 3:23-24

[4] ESV translation

[5] Judas’ betrayal is recounted in Matthew 26:48-50, Mark 14:44-45 and Luke 22:47-48

[6] Peter’s denial is recorded in Mark 14:66-72 and John 18:15-18, 25-27

[7] Isaiah 53:4-6

[8] Romans 8:14-17

[9] See Matthew 20:16, Matthew 23:11-12 and Matthew 5:5 respectively

[10] Joshua 1:5b, Hebrews 13:5b-6

[11] There are numerous references to Jesus’ place at the right hand of God including Luke 22:69, Colossians 3:1 and Hebrews 8:1.

[12] Hebrews 7:25

[13] Galatians 6:9-10

The letter

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

As I’ve admitted in previous posts, I’m a keeper, especially when it comes to things with sentimental value, mementos associated with the numerous trips I’ve taken throughout my life and items that might be useful at some point in the future. After nearly six decades, I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff that fits into one or more of those categories. Hence I’ve decided to start cleaning out bit by bit, box by box so my dear daughters won’t have quite so much to wade through later.

Since making this decision several weeks ago, I’ve managed to sort through approximately half a carton of keepsakes from the years I spent in Argentina. Pitifully slow-going to be sure as day-to-day demands are more pressing than dealing with boxes in the attic and basement.

img_2777Upon opening the aforementioned carton, I spied the beautiful scrapbook given to me by my 6th grade Spanish teachers, Señor Alvarez and Señora de López. It’s full of postcards and photos accompanied by my notations of dates and places. But, placed inside the front cover, I found a long-hidden treasure. It was the letter Señor Alvarez wrote to go along with the gift. Reading his kind words of affirmation and good wishes for future success affected me far more than flipping through the pages of the scrapbook itself. His words were the real gift, one that touched a 13-year old girl as well as the woman she became.

I have other similar gems tucked in boxes and drawers and files. Meaningful, heart-felt notes from family and friends, received on various special occasions or for no reason other than to reach out. Birthday cards, expressions of sympathy, thank you notes. From childish scribble to elegant cursive. Each in its own way says, “You matter to me.”

Written or spoken, our words can have lasting significance for good or for harm. Scripture instructs us to encourage one another and to refrain from unwholesome speech.[1] Proverbs 12:18 states, “The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing”, while Proverbs 16:24 declares, “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”[2] James tells us man’s anger is contrary to the righteousness God desires[3] then goes on to explain in great detail how difficult it is to tame the tongue and how much damage it can cause.[4]

Furthermore, we don’t know when we’ll no longer have the opportunity to tell someone what they mean to us or to apologize for an angry word spoken in haste. After I read the letter eloquently penned in Spanish so many years ago, I longed to tell Señor Alvarez how much his words meant to me and how my life has turned out since he wrote them. But time and distance make that impossible.

Sometimes death is the cause of separation. On occasion it comes quickly and without warning. I need no reminder of this, having unexpectedly lost my husband to a heart attack shortly after his 39th birthday. Nonetheless, every so often the reminders come. Such was the case last week as I attended the funeral for a dear woman I worked with years ago. Her brother, a pastor, conducted the service. He eulogized his sister and shared fond memories, including how she ended their last conversation in her customary way, “I love you Brother.” Marcie was my age and her sudden passing has given me reason to reflect, once again, on the brevity of life; to remember we don’t always know when last goodbyes are being said.

Believers look to the Bible as our only rule for faith and practice, recognizing the sufficiency of Scripture[5] as well as its supremacy.[6] Yet the all-powerful Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.[7] Jesus’ coming was promised immediately after the fall[8] and foretold throughout the Old Testament.[9] The Gospels proclaim his birth and detail his earthly ministry. Revelation gives us a glimpse of eternity in the presence of God.[10] And so for me the Bible is a love letter from beginning to end. A divinely-inspired account, full of promises kept and assurances of promises yet to be fulfilled by an Almighty Father who will never forsake his children in this life or the life to come.

As we await Jesus’ return or our own summons Home, may our words be helpful and healing rather than reckless and angry, beneficial to those who listen[11] and expressed in a timely manner[12] for we do not know the final day or hour.[13]

 

[1] See Hebrews 3:13 and Ephesians 4:29 respectively.

[2] Both Proverbs verses are quoted from the NIV translation.

[3] James 1:19-20

[4] James 3:1-12

[5] 2 Timothy 3:16-17

[6] Hebrews 4:12

[7] John 1:14

[8] Genesis 3:15

[9] See for example Isaiah 53 and Zechariah 9:9

[10] Revelation 21:1-4, 22:1-5

[11] Ephesians 4:29

[12] Hebrews 10:24-25

[13] Matthew 25:13, Mark 13:32

Always remember

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

When anniversaries of momentous days come around, I find I’m able to recall the events in great detail. For example, my wedding day, the birthdays of my daughters and grandchildren, and the day Ray was called Home are all etched in my mind . . . .

. . . as is the day I learned my job had been eliminated.

January 26, 2011 was overcast and chilly, a typical mid-winter day. I was anticipating my annual review at three o’clock that afternoon. My emotions went back and forth between calm and concern throughout the day. To say things hadn’t been going well in the year since I started reporting to a new manager was an understatement. In fact, the situation had deteriorated to the point I told my family I expected to be put on probation or terminated. I’m sure they felt my statement was hyperbole, a by-product of the stress I’d been under. I, however, was most sincere. In looking back, I believe that premonition was a gift, God’s way of preparing me for the news I would hear.

I went to the appointed conference room at the scheduled time. A few minutes later my manager entered, accompanied by her boss. His presence was my first clue this wouldn’t be a normal review. My suspense didn’t last long as my manager said, “I know you’re expecting to have your annual review, but you won’t be having it because your job has been eliminated.” My first thought: “This is real.” My second: “Thank you, Lord, for giving me an absolute answer.” Indeed it was a clear, decisive response to all the prayers for wisdom I and faithful friends had been praying, as I wondered if I should continue working or resign.

I was told the HR manager would be in to explain the details of my termination. Within the hour I’d turned in my computer, my badge and my company credit card. As I drove home, a protective numbness settled in. Just like that, my 30-year career came to an end. I wasn’t even able to say goodbye and there was certainly no opportunity for a retirement party.

The next morning I awoke to a familiar feeling and realized I was in a mild state of shock, not as deep as the one I’d experienced when Ray died suddenly, but a surreal sense of loss nonetheless. A significant part of my life had ended abruptly and was no longer accessible to me.

12-17-2012-me-and-joshua-at-graduation-3-2But my story was far from over. On January 28th, a mere two days after that fateful meeting, I contacted the admissions office at a local technical college and started the enrollment process to study horticulture. Six months later, my first grandchild was born. Joshua was present when I received my Environmental Horticulture diploma in December 2012. Two more grandchildren, Lyla and Emma, have joined our family. My days are full and my interests are many. I am blessed to have meaningful relationships. I am thankful.

When I awoke this morning, there was a tinge of sadness. I wish my career had ended differently. There are co-workers and customers I still miss and remember fondly. But, most of all, on this beautiful sunny day, I hark back across six years and praise God for working all things together for good.[1]

On multiple occasions, God commanded the Israelites to remember what he’d done for them, to tell their children, even to set up memorial stones so they wouldn’t forget his mighty deeds on their behalf.[2] Last week I had the pleasure of a lengthy phone call with a dear friend. Our relationship stretches across 35 years. We’ve known each other long enough and well enough to compare notes on dating, marriage, motherhood and, now, grand-motherhood. We’ve prayed for each other and watched as God’s plan has unfolded for us and our families. And we agree that one of the best things about getting older is having more and more instances to look back on to remind ourselves of all God has done. He is faithful. He keeps his promises. He never forsakes his own.[3]

At three o’clock this afternoon, I recollected how it felt to sit in that windowless conference room and receive the news of my termination. But those memories were quickly eclipsed by recalling all God’s done since. What an adventure he had in store for me!

Though there are times we can’t understand his ways[4], we can always trust him to have a plan – a good and perfect plan.[5]

[1] Romans 8:28

[2] See, for example, Deuteronomy 4:9, Psalm 103:2, Joshua 4 and Deuteronomy 6

[3] Deuteronomy 31:8

[4] Isaiah 55:8-9

[5] Jeremiah 29:11

Bickering, take 2

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

On a recent Wednesday morning, I was at my daughter Mary’s house to take care of my three grandchildren while she went to work. With breakfast finished, 3-year old Lyla img_2539-2disappeared into the back playroom while 5-year old Joshua launched into his first imaginative scenario of the day. As he spread a flowered quilt on the floor, he explained it was a bee garden. He went on to describe several activities, such as bee races and honey tasting, and asked me to visit his garden. As Joshua was concluding his description, Lyla re-emerged in full Minnie Mouse regalia, including distinctive slippers and ears. In addition to donning her special attire, she had been setting up a picnic to which we were also invited.

I barely had time to think, “Our morning is getting off to such a pleasant start. They’ve each settled on something fun to do”, when Joshua spied a small money pouch in Lyla’s hand. He immediately demanded Lyla hand over his money, saying he needed it for his bee garden. Mind you, up to this point money had not been mentioned in his elaborate explanation. Lyla, in turn, resisted, saying she needed the plastic coins to buy food for her picnic. Just that fast, our blissful morning dissolved into a battle of words and wills, with me struggling to play referee. I tried reasoning with them, reminding Joshua he’d said nothing about an admission fee. Likewise, I told Lyla the money was technically Joshua’s and suggested she ask him if she could borrow it. Her request was met by a resounding “no” from her brother. He did, however, suggest we divide the stash of gold doubloons in half. That seemed reasonable to me because there were so many of them. I proceeded to portion them out, one for Joshua, one for Lyla, until the pile was depleted.

Joshua was satisfied. Lyla was inconsolable. As a matter of fact, her sniffling and distress continued for the better part of an hour. The tone of our day had changed and we never quite recovered. I was still contemplating the turn of events when I crawled into bed that night. The sight of Lyla’s woebegone face was etched in my mind. I felt I’d failed miserably in my endeavors to keep the peace.

Yet, once again, the Lord had set before me an object lesson I couldn’t ignore. The tenth commandment tells us not to covet anything belonging to our neighbor.[1] A quick scan of several online dictionaries provides consistent descriptions of the forbidden act and can be summed up as “eagerly longing for something someone else has”. The last phrase is key. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong about longing for something and working toward acquiring it. But yearning for something someone else has – sometimes wanting it simply because they have it – and determining to take it from them is not permissible. James, writing some 2,000 years before the episode I recounted above, said, “You covet but you cannot get what you want so you quarrel and fight.”[2] Truly an apt description of the doubloon incident.

The children’s behavior wasn’t the only thing I mulled over that night as I lay awake. I considered how easy it is for us to consider dividing things evenly to be fair and reasonable. In his infinite wisdom, our heavenly Father gifts us with different abilities,  relationships and material resources and he expects us to be good stewards of all he’s entrusted to us. [3] Furthermore, “we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”[4] But wait – it gets even better! He’s promised to meet all our needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.[5] Shortly before Paul assured the Philippians of God’s provision, he confided, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”[6]

Amazing! God has lovingly created us, given us good works to do and promised to equip and enable us to accomplish his purposes. No need for coveting or bickering or grasping for the gifts he’s given others. Instead, may we give thanks to the One who knows us intimately. He wisely gives us unique, tailor-made gifts, as he conforms us more and more to the image of his Son.[7]

[1] Exodus 20:17

[2] James 4:2, NIV translation

[3] Romans 12 and Matthew 25:14-28 address spiritual gifts and stewardship, respectively.

[4] Ephesians 2:10, NIV translation

[5] Philippians 4:19

[6] Philippians 4:12-13, NIV translation

[7] Romans 8:28-29

Retractable claws

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

img_2729I can still hear the pitiful meowing in the background when I answered a call from my daughter Mary on that fateful summer day. Mary’s first words were, “Please don’t say no, Mom!” Mary was a rising senior in high school at the time and was on the cross country team. After her initial plea, she went on to explain they’d found some kittens upon arriving at school for the morning run. The one I heard mewing had been extricated from a crack in the stairs by Justin, her then-boyfriend-now-husband, and Mary wanted to adopt her. I told her I’d consider it. She called back at the appointed time an hour later and, in a moment of weakness or perhaps temporary insanity, I said yes. What was I thinking???

Mind you we already had an 11 year old male cat, Willie, who considered our house to be his territory and his alone. We kept Millie, as Mary decided to call her, in a bathroom when she first joined our family. Even though he was unable to see her, Willie sensed her presence and hissed every time he passed the door that separated him from his future nemesis. Although they eventually reached some kind of feline truce, I don’t think I’ve ever heard as much hissing as in their first few weeks of cohabitation. At best, they learned to tolerate each other.

It soon became apparent Willie wouldn’t be the only one at odds with Millie. In spite of the fact Justin was the one to free her from the crevice at school, she was a one-person cat and that person was Mary. She would stare adoringly at her, purring all the while. Try as I might to make friends with her, my attempts rarely elicited anything remotely like a purr and there were certainly no adoring looks.

But Mary grew up and went to college, a place where kitties aren’t allowed in dorms so Millie was left at home with me. I suppose some interaction is better than none since Millie would occasionally condescend to rubbing my legs for attention. At first I thought, “Isn’t that nice? She’s finally warming up to me.” She even started to purr, albeit begrudgingly. Then, before I knew what was happening or had time to protect myself, she bit me. This scenario played out a few more times, with me giving her the benefit of the doubt, hoping we would eventually establish a friendly rapport. It didn’t happen and I finally gave up, as she wounded not only my hands and feet with her sharp teeth, but also my feelings with her insincere gestures of camaraderie.

I’ve known some people like Millie. They’ve feigned friendship for their own gain. Fortunately they’ve been few in number, but the pain caused by their disingenuous behavior lingers as does the grief over my inability to make things work.

A computer-aided search of Scripture yields over 120 references for the terms “forgive”, “forgiveness” or “forgiven”.[1] Multiple New Testament texts instruct us to forgive as we’ve been forgiven.[2] Yet forgiveness doesn’t automatically lead to reconciliation, as Susan Hunt so aptly states in her book, “Spiritual Mothering”:

“Forgiveness does not necessarily mean reconciliation. Often women truly forgive, but because there is no reconciliation with the one who has hurt them they labor under false guilt that they have not done everything they should. Reconciliation requires both repentance and forgiveness. There is a duel responsibility on the part of the offender and the offended. We cannot control the repentance of the one who has hurt us. We can only forgive. Our forgiveness may or may not bring about reconciliation, but it will free us to have a right relationship with God and with others.” [3]

A passage in Romans 12 strikes a similar chord as the Apostle Paul tells his readers, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” [4]

As far as it depends on you. I can only give an account of myself, my thoughts, my actions. [5] And oftentimes, as hard as it is, the best thing we can do is forgive, let go and trust God for the outcome. We can be assured He will work all things together for good.[6]

I see Millie from time to time when I’m at Mary’s house. At age 12 you’d think she might have mellowed some, but she still has a slight scowl that reminds me of Lucy van Pelt of the Peanuts gang and she can make the family’s 75-pound dog back off with her menacing hisses. I acknowledge her presence when our paths cross, usually even say hello . . . but I stay out of striking distance and I certainly don’t seek her out.

[1] Search done of the NIV translation on Biblegateway.com

[2] See, for example, Matthew 6:12, 14-15; Luke 6:37

[3] Susan Hunt, Spiritual Mothering (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1992), 153.

[4] Romans 12:17-18

[5] Romans 14:12

[6] Romans 8:28

Bickering

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

img_2702I love to feed the birds. I consider my feathered friends to be outdoor pets of sorts. Now that the weather has turned colder and there are fewer natural food sources, the activity around the feeders has escalated. In fact, I added a second feeder to accommodate the increased traffic. Tufted titmice and cardinals, chickadees and nuthatches, wrens and woodpeckers are regular visitors, eagerly partaking of the sunflower seeds and suet. The feeding generally proceeds in a harmonious manner, with birds flitting from feeder to tree branch to deck railing, taking turns as it were. But occasionally one of the diners becomes impatient. A ruckus ensues as the bird brusquely flaps his way to the feeder, scattering his equally-hungry companions. Nonetheless,whether patient or pushy, the birds have done nothing to earn the savory seeds. They are a gift, freely given.

Having just celebrated Christmas and a December birthday for 3-year old granddaughter Lyla, I’ve witnessed an influx of presents at my daughter’s house. Thoughtfully chosen by the givers, there are plenty of toys to fill hours with imaginative play and help hone new skills, as well as clothes to fit growing bodies. It’s been satisfying to watch as Lyla and 5-year old Joshua have expressed their gratitude for the gifts they received. Lyla will often recount who gave her a particular item and say how much she “lubs”[1] it. Yet, just like the birds, there are instances when playtime fun is disrupted by a struggle over a particular toy. The fought-over item usually becomes the most desirable at that moment simply because someone else was intently playing with it. Even 10-month old Emma isn’t immune as she frequently finds her older siblings’ things much more interesting than her own and protests loudly if such a treasure is removed from her vise-like grip.

Observing the antics of the birds as well as the behavior of my beloved grandchildren reminded me of the sentiments expressed on Christmas cards I sent out years ago. Sigrid Undset’s[2] quote on the front resonated so deeply with me I made sure to keep a card for myself:

“And when we give each other Christmas gifts in his name, let us remember that he has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans and all that lives and moves upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused. And to save us from our own foolishness, from all our sins, he came down to earth and gave us himself.”

Indeed everything we have, all temporal and eternal blessings, are gifts, graciously given by our loving Father. [3] No room for boasting or bickering or grasping. Instead, may we say with the psalmist, “I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing the praises of your name, O Most High.”[4]

[1] Lyla’s endearing pronunciation of “loves”.

[2] Sigrid Undset was a Norwegian novelist. She was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928.

[3] James 1:17

[4] Psalm 9:1-2

We shall be whiter than snow

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Introduction: I am a member of Grace Covenant PCA, a church planted by Midway PCA, the church I belonged to for many years after we moved to Georgia. I enjoy attending women’s events at Midway where my daughter Mary and her family as well as many long-time friends are still members. I was privileged to be asked to bring the devotion for this year’s Christmas event. img_2643

In spite of my best intentions to turn the contents of the devotion into a pre-Christmas blog post, holiday preparations as well as numerous family celebrations kept me from doing so . . . until now. This post is longer than usual so I invite you to pour a cup of your favorite coffee or tea and spend a few quiet minutes contemplating Jesus, our Lord and Savior, the most precious gift ever given.

As always, thank you for reading along. May God bless you and yours in the coming year.

(The following has been modified to more appropriately fit this setting and timing.)

Imagine my surprise and delight at being asked to bring the devotion for the women’s Christmas event at Midway, an event I look forward to attending each year. Upon agreeing to be the guest speaker, I asked Wanda, the woman who contacted me, about the theme for the event. When she replied, “We shall be whiter than snow”, I thought, “Good! I can work with that! There’s a Christmas-y tie in even if we rarely ever get snow on December 25th here in Georgia. Then, near the end of our conversation, Wanda added, “We’ve also been talking about unity in the church.” Uh oh. That topic could be a bit stickier. I could step on some toes with that one. I could even step on my toes. In the week I had to prepare, I prayerfully considered the topics before me, hoping the message would honor God, as well as be an encouragement to all of us gathered that evening.

In thinking about unity, I found it easier to start by pondering what creates disunity.[1] Misunderstandings, taking sides, judging, assuming – these are just some of the things that come to mind when I think of sources of friction and disharmony in congregations and relationships in general. I think it’s safe to say all of us have been a part of or witnessed situations where these dynamics come into play. Someone hurts someone else’s feelings and the two people become cross with each other. Instead of working it out they tell others. Before you know it sides form, with supporters in each camp assuming the worst of the other side. Often judgements are based on very little information, other than that provided by the offended party which is no doubt embellished as it gets told and retold by ones not directly involved.

Scripture gives us clear guidance on how we’re to conduct interpersonal relationships. As presented in Matthew 18:15-17, Jesus outlines the process to follow if a brother offends you. Though this passage provides basis for church discipline, it begins with, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone.” (Emphasis mine.) Ephesians 4:26 reminds us to not let the sun go down on our anger. Disagreements should be dealt with quickly so hard feelings won’t fester. As part of his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus admonished his listeners (and us) not to judge lest we be judged, to be more concerned about the log in our own eye than the speck in our brother’s.[2] And what about the ninth commandment which tells us not to bear false witness against our neighbor? Given Jesus’ “heart of the matter” approach to adultery and murder[3] isn’t it reasonable to consider gossip to be bearing false witness?

Work out your differences directly with those who’ve offended you and do so quickly. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger. Don’t judge. Don’t gossip.

Yet we can make it even simpler. These rules (and others) for harmonious relationships can be boiled down to the Golden Rule and the second greatest command, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”[4] and “love your neighbor as yourself”[5], respectively. Being with my grandchildren on a regular basis is always a blessing, but sometimes a challenge. As much as I love them, children will be children. “Do unto others” has become an oft-repeated phrase, as in, “Joshua, would you like it if I hit you? No? Well then don’t hit your sister. Do unto others!” And so it is with me. As I’ve repeatedly re-enforced this concept with Joshua, my heavenly Father has reminded me to do as I say. When I’m tempted to judge or assume or gossip, “do unto others” often brings me up short.

So let’s turn back to our theme. The phrase “whiter than snow” appears in Psalm 51, David’s psalm of repentance, his cry for forgiveness after Nathan had confronted him about his sin with Bathsheba.[6] David was God’s chosen king. Scripture refers to him as a man after God’s own heart yet he committed adultery and murder, probably the furthest things from his mind the night he went up to the roof of the palace to get some air. His first mistake was not being where he should have been – with his troops. 1 Samuel 11:1 tells us: “In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king’s men and the whole Israelite army . . . But David remained in Jerusalem.” David’s behavior is a sobering reminder that any of us can be led astray, step by step, if we make poor choices and give in to temptation.

As long as we’re in the flesh, we’ll sin, but as believers, we’re no longer slaves to sin[7], nor will God ever let go[8] or lose sight of[9] one of his children. In fact, God promises to provide a way out when we’re tempted[10] and, when we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness[11], to wash us whiter than snow. Times of wandering and restoration in my own life have humbled me. They remind me I have no grounds to judge others. Without Jesus’ atoning sacrifice, I would be totally, eternally lost.

Isaiah 53 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible. This Messianic passage paints a vivid portrait of the suffering Savior. When I read verse 5, I usually personalize it: “But he was wounded for my transgressions; he was crushed for my iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought me peace, and by his stripes I am healed.” It brings things into clear perspective. Nothing in my hands I bring. Simply to his cross I cling.

In addition to our sinful natures, we all carry burdens and grief known only to God and a trusted few who are closest to us. When the load becomes particularly heavy, our stress may manifest itself in a number of ways – sadness, irritability, withdrawal from normal activities – things that could lead others to draw all sorts of conclusions, assume the worst or possibly even take offense over something that has nothing at all to do with them. Instead of indulging in such presumptions, may we choose to “do unto others”. At the very least, we can give the other person the benefit of the doubt and we can pray for discernment on how to reach out. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul referred to the church as a body with different parts, each having an important role to play in the well-being of the whole. Furthermore, he said there should be no division in the body of believers and called us to rejoice with those who rejoice and suffer with those who suffer.[12]

At this point I’m sure some of my listeners may have been thinking, “This isn’t much of a Christmas message.” Possibly some of you are thinking the same. After all, we usually focus on the Baby in the manger, multitudes of angels singing, the new star in the sky, shepherds looking on in wonder. But if that baby hadn’t grown up to be the man of sorrows, who took our sins upon himself, was crucified, dead and buried and rose again on the third day, we would be most to be pitied, as Paul pointed out to the Corinthians. However, as Paul went on to affirm, Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.[13]

As we look forward to a new year, let us celebrate the entire life of our Savior who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:6-11)

Where should our unity come from? From recognizing we’re sinners, saved by grace, a free gift from God that leaves no room for boasting or judging or looking down on others.[14] Instead, all power, wealth, wisdom, might, honor, glory and blessing belong to the Lamb.[15]  It’s all about Him.

According to Isaiah 1:18, the matter is settled. For those who’ve been cleansed by the precious blood of the spotless Lamb, “though their sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” Good news. News worth celebrating and rejoicing over and telling others.

And as we do so, may we humbly extend to them the forgiveness and compassion shown to us by the One who has washed us whiter than snow.

[1] Yes, “disunity” is a word, as is “disharmony”!

[2] Matthew 7:1-5, Luke 6:37-38

[3] Matthew 5:21-30

[4] Matthew 7:12

[5] Matthew 22:37-39

[6] 2 Samuel 12:1-10

[7] Romans 6:1-23

[8] John 10:27-29

[9] Psalm 34:15

[10] 1 Corinthians 10:13

[11] 1 John 1:9

[12] 1 Corinthians 12:24b-26

[13] 1 Corinthians 15:12-28

[14] Ephesians 2:8-9

[15] Revelation 5:12

It’s all in the details

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

1989 was an important year. On August 9th a baby girl joined our family. A few months later Ray gave me several pieces of Department 56’s Dickens’ Village and one of my most cherished Christmas traditions began. Not that I equate the importance of daughter Jessie’s arrival with an assortment of ceramic buildings and accessories, but it helps me keep track of how long Dickens has been part of my Christmas celebration.

As long as Ray was alive, he would creatively set up the village and add to the collection every December, usually giving me several pieces for my birthday and/or Christmas. He also started a set for my mom. After he passed away in April 1997, I came across a number of Dickens items boxed up in the basement. No doubt Ray had taken advantage of post-holiday sales, purchasing gifts for the next season. I gave some to Mom and kept the rest for myself, surmising Ray intended to divide his stash between the two of us.

Although I’m a fairly frugal person, my family will attest to the fact I have two weaknesses when it comes to buying: my village and plants. (They’ve also assured me there could be worse things when it comes to non-essential spending and are supportive of my relatively innocuous addictions!) During my travels, I found a small store that no longer planned to carry Dickens’ Village. They were having a “buy one get one free” sale to clear out their inventory. Of course I had to help them do so. That year the village gained a whole new suburb.

img_2464When I choose pieces to add, I usually look for ones I can connect with. This year’s additions include “First Christmas Eve Service” (for baby Emma), “Letters to Santa” (a Victorian version of granddaughter Lyla) and “Lovebirds” (‘nuff said).

Two birthdays ago, Mom gave me her entire collection. She said she’d enjoy it more if I combined it with mine. More suburbs appeared. The village now fills three rooms and requires many hours of assembly across several days.

Nonetheless, I always look forward to unpacking the village and getting reacquainted with the various pieces as construction progresses. Inevitably the initial opening of boxes is accompanied by bittersweet tears. So many memories. So many Christmases without Ray. And every year I pray he might somehow know how much joy the village has brought me; how thankful I am he started it for me.

This morning was no different. I was crying intermittently as I opened first one box, then another, when my phone chimed to signal an incoming text. I’d been corresponding with my daughters and several friends throughout the morning, exchanging thankful notes about the much-needed rain we received overnight and sharing Christmas plans. I supposed someone was continuing one of those conversations. I was amazed when I saw instead a text from a friend who’s on staff at Smith-Gilbert Gardens. img_2461She’d sent two pictures of a Japanese maple I donated to the Gardens in memory of Ray. In spite of the cloudy day, it shone forth in all its fall splendor. Planted on April 19, 2013, the sixteenth anniversary of Ray’s Homegoing, the tree sits at the edge of the Koi pond, one of grandson Joshua’s favorite places at SGG.

Stefanie had no way of knowing how much those photos would mean to me at that moment, but God did. He knows us intimately – every hurt, every hope, every reminiscence. Like the loving Father he is, he gives us good and perfect gifts.[1] Seeing those photos of the little tree decked out in its gloriously colorful leaves provided assurance of both an ongoing connection and a future reunion.

Not only does God tenderly meet our needs, his timing is always impeccable. Over 2,000 years ago, after hundreds of years of silence, He sent the perfect gift for all time, the One we needed most[2], the Baby in the manger.

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace[3].

As we go through this Advent season, may we rejoice, for the One through whom all things were made[4] humbled himself, took on flesh and came as Savior[5]. He cares about every detail of our lives and will graciously guide and provide for us[6] until he returns as King to gather us to himself.

Immanuel . . . God with us . . . for all time.[7]

[1] James 1:17

[2] John 3:16-17

[3] Isaiah 9:6b

[4] John 1:3a

[5] Philippians 2:8

[6] Matthew 7:7-11

[7] Matthew 1:23

Contentment

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

The dictionary defines contentment as a state of happiness and satisfaction. Synonyms include gratification, fulfillment, and serenity. In Philippians, the Apostle Paul said he had learned to be content in all situations, whether facing plenty or hunger, abundance or need.[1] When I think of contentment, I think of Aunt Mary Kate.

Born June 4, 1903, the youngest sibling and only sister of my beloved grandfather[2], Mary Kate Phillips was much like her older brother. Slight of build and grounded in her faith, her big heart overflowed with love for others, especially her family. By the world’s standards, she was poor and most likely would have met the government’s criteria for poverty. She lived in a small 3-room house comprised of a sitting area, bedroom and kitchen, a stone’s throw from the house she was born in. For much of her life, she didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom. I don’t know if she ever traveled outside North Carolina. Aunt Mary Kate was just shy of her 44th birthday when she lost her husband suddenly one night, presumably to a stroke. She lived alone for almost 50 years afterwards, choosing not to remarry.

My initial memories of Aunt Mary Kate date back to when my grandfather was alive. We’d sometimes cut through the field on our way to or from the post office so we could pay her a visit. But my most cherished memories came later. Early in my career, I worked a two-year stint in tech marketing. I was still living in Delaware at the time and most of my customers were located in North and South Carolina. Aunt Mary Kate and a number of other relatives were conveniently positioned between the Raleigh-Durham airport and a carpet mill I called on in Aberdeen, NC. As you might imagine, I tried to fit in visits with my kinfolks as often as possible. Although I got to see her at other times over the years, the one-on-one conversations during business trip stop-overs were among the best.

Aunt Mary Kate was always delighted to see me and welcomed me into her tiny dwelling with a big smile and a warm hug. The walls of her sitting room were lined with photos of family members. She’d take time to tell me about first one and then another, beaming with pride as she recounted accomplishments or pointed out new babies.

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Probably the most beautiful of Aunt Mary Kate’s material possessions. She wanted her namesake, my daughter Mary, to have it.

 

Based on her demeanor, you would have thought she lived in luxury, lacking nothing in terms of worldly comforts, but that was far from the case. Yet my mom attests to the fact she never heard her complain, in spite of her meager means and being widowed so young and losing a beloved 18-year old great-grandson to an auto accident.

Though I’m sure she had moments of doubt and great sorrow, I never heard her grumble either, hence I always think of Aunt Mary Kate when asked for an example of contentment. Because contentment is about what’s on the inside. It’s not about our surroundings or our circumstances or the value of our possessions. Nor is it an emotion. “It’s a state of being, anchored firmly in the confidence that God is sovereignly working out the details of our lives, moment by moment from beginning to end.”[3] That’s why Paul could say he’d learned to be content in any and every situation – the reason for his hope and the guarantee of his well-being, both temporal and eternal, rested in One who never changes.[4] The same One Aunt Mary Kate loved and trusted.

I believe thankfulness is a key component of contentment. Sometimes I’d stop by the small general store near Aunt Mary Kate’s house and pick up a Co-cola and a moon pie for her. If you’d seen her smile and heard her expressions of gratitude, you would have thought I’d given her something much more expensive. But the love given and received in those exchanges made the gift priceless. It’s a love that still touches me today and led me to name my firstborn after this dear, godly woman.[5]

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Aunt Mary Kate, 84, holding baby Mary, her 9-month old namesake. Taken August 2, 1987 on the porch of Aunt Mary Kate’s home.

 

 

I like to imagine visiting Aunt Mary Kate’s heavenly abode. I hope it will have a porch and a couple of rocking chairs where we can sit together. I look forward to seeing her sweet smile again. I know I will for Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place for us and has promised to return and gather us to himself, FOREVER. [6]

In the meantime, may we be content, rejoicing always, praying continually and giving thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for us in Christ Jesus,[7] the One in whom all God’s promises are “Yes”.[8]

 

[1] Philippians 4:11-12

[2] See “Eating apples”, in Archives, October 2015

[3] Pastor Ben Duncan, Grace Covenant PCA, Dallas, GA, sermon “The Secret of Contentment”, July, 17, 2016

[4] Hebrews 13:8

[5] My daughter, Mary Elizabeth, is named after Aunt Mary Kate and my sister, Mary Jeannette, who died in infancy.

[6] John 14:2-3

[7] 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

[8] 2 Corinthians 1:20