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Posts Tagged ‘Devotional’

Barking enraged shepherd dog outdoors

Our outdoor dog raised quite a ruckus at about two o’clock this morning. Clearly, someone (or something), was in the yard because she was loudly sounding her full-out intruder alert; ready to attack. As three of us hurried outside to confront this unseen foe, I couldn’t help but think how foolish a person would have to be to jump a fence and prowl around a yard that housed a German Shepherd –and yes, there are guard dog signs up to warn any would-be intruders.

Oddly, our girl kept running in and out of the pool yard in full-attack mode, but she didn’t tear into anyone. Clearly she wasn’t after a coon or a possum because she has a distinctly different bark for those. Her bark is also different when alerting us to people on the road just outside our property. No, this was different —more vicious— but it didn’t seem that anyone was in the yard after all.

At first I was puzzled. Then I saw it, MOVEMENT! And to be honest, I chuckled. Had our dog been as tall as me, she might have figured out what the movement was; but she is only half my height, so the top of the (above ground) pool is way above her head. From the porch she could see the pool float moving about in the current, but she could only see the pillow portion, and that on the dark side of the pool.

Normally we don’t leave floats or toys in the pool so the sight, more specifically the movement, would certainly have been alarming for our ever-vigilant watch dog. Had I taken the float out, as per our custom, I might have spared our household, and probably three others, from being disturbed in the middle of the night, but I’ll just chalk it off as a lesson learned and hope the neighbors didn’t mind the urgent barking too much —better safe than sorry, after all.

After loving on our girl for awhile, I patted her on the head and told her what a good job she was doing then came inside to wind down before going back to bed. As I sat in my chair, this scripture came to mind:

Abstain from all appearance of evil. I Thessalonians 5:22

Our dog doesn’t really avoid every appearance of “evil,” She attacks it head-on. To her way of thinking, any creature, two-legged or four, that enters her yard, is an enemy to be slain.

If only God’s children would have kept that attitude in regards to compromise, I thought, this country might still be a Christian nation. But sadly, we have let too many evils creep in —into our churches, our society, our culture—because we didn’t recognize those evils for what they truly were. We also made too many compromises with many of the more subtle evils in our attempt to reach the unchurched with the Gospel. Sure, we meant well, but rather than succeeding in pulling people up, we slowly, but surely, allowed our own standards of holiness to be lowered, both in our churches and in our nation.

I have, over the course of time, asked several pastors the following question: Does the end (higher church attendance) ever justify the means (seeker-friendly gimmicks) if the means violates God’s instruction? I have seldom heard a pastor answer no. “Yes,” they say. “So long as we are getting people into the church, God will understand.” I DISAGREE! Why? Our god told us to abstain from the very appearance of evil. He tells us from cover-to-cover in our Bibles that we are absolutely forbidden from mixing the holy with the profane. If our church services look more like worldly concerts or pep rallies, we must ask ourselves if we are being obedient to God’s word. There are other examples I could use as well, but you get the point.

Where do we draw the line? You may ask. Well, if we don’t know the answer to that question, perhaps it is time for us to pray until we do. Meanwhile, it would be in our best interest to be on full-out intruder alert when it comes to even the appearance of evil. True, we may sometimes bark at something that isn’t truly a danger, but again, it is better to be safe than sorry. If we, God’s people, don’t stand up for what is right, who will? Friends, when it comes to sin and evil, let us learn a lesson from our canine protectors and attack them head-on!

As I always say, the people who care the most are they who care enough to speak the truth; in love, of course.

pencil lady

⇒Disclaimer: My apologies for the following advertisement, if applicable. I would like this site to be an advertisement-free site, but I have to pay a fee for this. I plan to do so in future, but for now, please know that I have nothing to do with advertisements &/or advertisement selection.

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caring hands cropped

A Stroke of Providence

One-hundred-fifty years ago or so, Charles Spurgeon penned the following words: “I would go to the deeps a hundred times to cheer a downcast spirit. It is good for me to have been afflicted, that I might know how to speak a word in season to one that is weary.” Heaven knows I have been afflicted more times than I can even recall, yet little did I know when I posted Spurgeon’s words one month ago that  they would be somewhat prophetic for what was soon to come; a mild stroke was on the horizon.

The emergency room doctor seemed very nonchalant about the whole thing. In all fairness, however, the waiting rooms were packed, and the good doctor did look like he had already been worn clean smooth, as they say in the south. A few questions and the compulsory, “Be sure to follow-up with your physician,” and off he went.

My physician seemed equally indifferent. Stroke damage is irreparable, he explained. When one has a stroke, that part of the brain that was damaged doesn’t ever come back to life. He also explained the probability for a future occurrence (which I don’t accept), prescribed a drug that “might” help lessen the odds, and sent me on my way.

Irreparable, my foot, I said to myself as I exited the building; I will come out on-top of this thing —watch me!

The damage was certainly noticeable, but not nearly as bad as it could have been. For a period of two weeks or so, I sounded like Porky the Pig. By way of explanation for international readers, Porky is a cartoon character who st-st-st-stutters. My thoughts were somewhat intact, but I couldn’t get my words to come out clearly for the life of me. What frustrated me the most, aside from not being able to clearly communicate, was that my left arm, which throbbed most of the time, lost all strength and tended to draw-up on me. There were other problems too, like migraines and repeated face numbness, but I kept reminding myself that God was still on His throne and that “this [challenge] too shall pass.”

I’m not taking the drug. As providence would have it, my family has been, for years, under the care of one of the best alternative wellness providers in the nation, a man who also happens to be one of the most godly men I know. He was, and is, working closely with me to find the root cause so that this doesn’t happen again. [Thanks again, Dr. Ben, I greatly appreciate you.]

I am also doing my part to expedite my healing. I reminded my body that I am more than a conqueror through Christ, my Lord (Romans 8:37) and I let my body know in no uncertain terms that I was going to call the shots, and not the other way around.

Day after day, I fumbled through tongue-twisters and other recitations, in order to force my thoughts and speech to connect. I also forced my arm to move, and work, even when it didn’t want to. It wasn’t always easy. I knocked a lot of things over, and spilled a lot, but still I persisted.

There is much more that I could say about this whole ordeal, but for time’s sake, I will jump to the good news; then share a few additional thoughts.

It has been just shy of one month since I had the stroke and I am currently feeling pretty good, almost back to normal. My speech may still have a few glitches in it, but I sound like myself again. My arm almost has full range of motion again, doesn’t throb and is regaining its strength, and the headaches are diminishing. God is faithful and He has acted on my behalf! I realize I still have a way to go, but I also know that He will continue to see me through. He who has begun a good work will be faithful to complete it.

And now, I want to share something interesting. In that first week or so following my trip to the emergency room, while I was st-str-struggling to get most words out, I could recite Scripture verses almost flawlessly. I marvel that the Word of God is more a part of me, than the very blood coursing through my veins.

I shared with my husband, through broken words, what was happening and how awesome I thought it was that my inner-spirit was not affected the way my body was. On the contrary, at a time when I could have easily been downcast, my faith effortlessly rose-up  in leaps and bounds.

My precious Lord showed me so many times, and in so many ways, through all of this that He was right there with me, communing with me, strengthening me. I had trouble remembering simple things, yet I easily remembered a great many verses to those old, beautiful hymns —verses that I hadn’t heard in many years. The Lord spoke to me, through those old hymns, especially. Song after song played through my mind effortlessly, as though I had  heard them only yesterday.

My theme song for those first few weeks was selected for me by my Heavenly Father. Time after time, I found myself singing or humming, Great is Thy Faithfulness.¹

“Great is Thy faithfulness!” “Great is Thy faithfulness!”
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
“Great is Thy faithfulness,” Lord, unto me!

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

I am not sharing all of this with you, dear reader, to boast of my spirituality —God forbid! No, I am sharing this with you to remind each and every one of you of God’s faithfulness. In fact, the song above was penned by Thomas Obediah Chisholm, a man whose health was so fragile that he was often confined to bed for long periods of time. The greatest hymns, it seems, were often penned by those who daily relied on God’s faithfulness to see them through great struggles and challenges.

Finally, dear reader, may I say that I do not believe that it is the Lord’s desire that His children suffer. I do, however, believe that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28). I also believe that God can help us to draw upon our own experiences of suffering and trials in such a way that we can, in turn, be a blessing to others. Charles Spurgeon certainly understood that through our own afflictions, we gain the empathy to speak a word in season to another that is weary. May we follow in his footsteps.

¹Great is Thy Faithfulness. Words by Thomas Obediah Chisholm. 1923

fear not

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flood

Where have I been for the last few months, you might ask? Truthfully, I have been battling a rather serious health issue; one that has knocked me down more than once, but rest assured, I’m not down for the count. In fact, I plan to resume blogging now, despite my weakened condition. But first, I want to share a post from my archives because it seemed very appropriate amid the physical and emotional storms that so many are facing. I will share this post both here, and on my Polished Pearls page, but check back soon because no matter what, God’s mercies are too great to keep silent and I will, Lord willing, be adding new posts to both sites very soon.

Today, as I gazed upon the brightest, most beautiful sky that I have seen in weeks, I couldn’t help but think of those living in flood-ravaged areas; and right now, there are plenty of those. I also wept for a few dear friends who are going through some very devastating storms in their personal lives. It seems that so many of us are going through heavy storms of one type or another. Don’t give up, friends, even when those storms seem to come against you………..

LIKE A FLOOD

Sometimes God calms the storm. Sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms His child.

This past weekend, the weather here was horrendous. We were hit with the whole gamut of storm threats, including tornadoes, hail and flooding. In fact the hail stone pictured –or should I say hail boulder- was one of many that pounded this region. There was quite a bit of property loss in our area, but praise the LORD, there were no serious injuries.

hail

I thought of the second half of Isaiah 59:19: When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him. However, the ancient Hebrew texts did not have commas, or paragraphs for that matter, so instead of reading:

When the enemy shall come in like a flood —the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him

the verse could just as easily read

When the enemy shall come in —like a flood, the Spirit of the LORD shall lift up a standard against him.

What’s the difference? The difference is where you place the emphasis. Dear reader, when you are bombarded with the storms of life, do you focus more on the storm, or on the one who can calm it?

It is only natural to feel completely overwhelmed at times. Undoubtedly, many of the folks here that lost their homes in the tornadoes felt that way. I’m sure they could relate to the words of King David  when he penned the following:

My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death have fallen on me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.
I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm.
Psalm 55:4-8 NIV

But David didn’t stop there, allowing his situation to flood him with despair. Instead, he confidently proclaimed, “As for me, I will call upon God; and the LORD shall save me” (verse 16).

Dear reader, I leave you with these encouraging words from the same Psalm; may they flood you with peace during your roughest storms.

“Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved (verse 22).

(Like a Flood originally posted April 2012)

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cardinal snowglobe

Can you guess which Super Bowl team I’m rooting for? Sorry, that was a trick question, because I don’t care for football in the least. I have come to appreciate the sport more in the last few months, though, because few things put me to sleep faster. My husband can watch his game and I can snooze away; that’s what I call a win-win.

However, Super Bowl Sunday does have one thing going for it. This is my oldest daughter’s birthday. I guess that’s why she exudes enough football enthusiasm for the both of us.

Each year, she has at least three birthday wishes: First, for a Dairy Queen ice cream cake, second that the Denver Broncos win the game, and third that it snow. The Broncos aren’t playing this year, but she likes the Seattle Seahawks, so hopefully she won’t be too disappointed –go Seattle!

As for the snow, there wasn’t enough to stick, but at least we got some. Last year there wasn’t so much as a flake, yet my husband and I made sure that my daughter had snow for her birthday. Seeing that it was her twenty-first, we wanted it to be very special for her.

We sprayed the windows and doors with artificial snow and wrote a unique message in the middle of it all. She was delighted! In fact, the snow and the Dairy Queen ice cream cake would have been enough to keep her happy meter overflowing for a few days, but it was her gift that brought the most joy. Why, because it was a gift from the heart –one that was very carefully thought-out and very personal.

After much searching, we finally found the perfect snow globe; an ornate, musical globe that featured a cardinal, which my daughter also loves. We had the following words engraved on the base:

For our beautiful Rachel, that you may always have snow on your birthday.

She cried tears of joy!

Today, as I carried her ice cream cake through the snow, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought that my daughter is having another lovely birthday. She is celebrating with friends at present, but soon she will be home enjoying her cake while chattering on about her day, and I will cherish every moment, for some day she will be married and have children of her own and I won’t always get to see her on her special day.

That is another reason her daddy and I wanted to give her a very special keepsake for her twenty-first birthday; so she would have a little piece of our heart with her every year and always remember how very treasured she is, and how blessed we are to have such a beautiful daughter. In fact, my husband and I have been blessed with four precious gifts from Heaven, and we are so proud of each and every one of them.

Today, while millions of people are gathering around their television sets to cheer on their favorite teams, I am thankful to have given birth on Super Bowl Sunday all those years ago, and I am mindful that the most important teams in life are those whom God has given us, whether they be family or friends. Bearing that in mind, I called my mother and chatted with her for a while.

What about you dear reader? Whether you cheered on a Super Bowl team, or snuggled up next to your sweetheart on the couch and snoozed, did you take time today to really root for your home team –and by home team I don’t mean football?

When is the last time you looked a loved one in the eyes and told them point-blank, I love you, and I appreciate you? There’s no better time than the present. Well, it is Super Bowl Sunday, so I guess you could wait till half-time if they’re watching the game (if you’re reading this now, you probably aren’t), but whenever you take the time to do so, I guarantee you, it will be a win-win!

pencil lady

⇒Disclaimer: My apologies for the following advertisement, if applicable. I would like this site to be an advertisement-free site, but I have to pay a fee for this. I plan to do so in future, but for now, please know that I have nothing to do with advertisements &/or advertisement selection.

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In loving tribute to my dear friend, Barbara “Hugs” Hammond, who crossed into eternity January 7, 2015

barbara.11

Everyone needs to have some “hugs” in their life. I am so grateful that Barbara was mine for so many years. 

*******************

fried worms 3

Years ago, while I was still single, I served as an assistant manager for a rather large truck stop restaurant. One particular evening, while the place was unusually noisy and crowded, a rather weary family arrived.

One look at the parents’ faces told me that the day had already been very taxing for them and chaos was the last thing they needed. while I couldn’t do much about that at the time, I determined to ease the situation any way I could. Although it took some effort, I seated them more quickly than they had expected.

“I’ll go ahead and take your order,” I offered. “As you can see, all of our waitresses are swamped and I don’t want you to have to wait too long; you look exhausted.”

“Bless you,” the mother exhaled as she melted onto her chair. “We have been driving all day and to be honest, the whole trip has been one big nightmare! All we want to do is eat a good hot meal and then get home as quickly as possible so we can sleep in our own beds.”

After hurriedly scanning the menu, she asked her youngest son if he knew what he would like to eat. “FRIED WORMS!” he insisted. That was cute enough the first time but after the fourth time his parents were irate and very close to applying the board of education to the seat of learning right there in that dining room.

“Just bring us all a cheeseburger and fries please.”

I certainly didn’t know what it was like to deal with an obstinate child like that. But his mother’s face said it all, and I was determined to help her out just a bit. Did I mention that I was somewhat prankish when I was younger?

Returning from the kitchen a short time later, I walked over and placed a heaping plate of chewy little treats before the annoying little worm lover. His insolence quickly changed to anxiety. “Wha – what is that?”

“Fried worms,” I answered slyly. “That’s what you asked for, and we always try to make our customers happy.”

Even his parents looked a little nervous, they didn’t have a clue what I was up to but they could tell from my impish grin that they should just play along, and so they did. “You ordered those.” his father said sternly, “Now you eat them- all of them!” The boy didn’t move, though, because his body was rigid with disbelief and probably nausea at the thought of eating fried worms for real.

“Are those really worms?” his older brother asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” I answered. “And they’re pretty tasty; you should try one.”

He was a bit skeptical, though obviously a tad more daring. He slowly raised one to his mouth and ever so gingerly bit the end off of the critter. All eyes were fixed on him as a smile gradually overtook him. “Hey- these are good!” His father agreed.

Little Mr.” I want fried worms!” was not convinced, but after a bit of parental persuasion he finally braved his first bite. His eyes grew wide again, this time from surprise; he actually liked the worms very much. By this time everyone was munching on them and they polished off the whole basket-full in no time.

As the family was leaving, the boy’s mother hung back and quietly asked me what I had fed her family; she honestly didn’t have a clue. “I know they weren’t real worms,” she confessed, “but they really looked like they were.”

The stress that this woman had upon arrival had long since melted away, and she and I both shared a good laugh when I explained that her son had just tasted his first deep-fried clam strips. “Well, you sure taught him a lesson,” she said with great satisfaction. Then, with every ounce of motherly appreciation she could muster, she thanked me and left to rejoin her husband and children, who were hopefully better behaved for the remainder of their journey.

Interestingly, I was really trying to teach that little boy a lesson, yet I learned an important lesson as well. That incident helped me to realize that I was a lot like that boy. There were so many times I had wanted something so badly that I pitched a fit till I got it, only to find in the end it wasn’t really what I wanted after all. And the opposite was true also. There were times when I could not see what wonderful blessings were right there in front of me.

One such example was my friend whom I  lovingly called “Hugs.” I had only known this woman a short time before she felt inclined to give me a big ole’ bear hug. “You needed that,” she informed me. I really wanted to respond with “No, I didn’t, but you need this – SMACK!” Back then I still had a lot of emotional healing to do and I was not at all comfortable being hugged by someone I barely knew. I’ve changed a lot, though. I’m a lot more outgoing now, and hugs are just fine.

As time passed, I got to know “Hugs” better, yet  I still couldn’t help but think at first, “This woman really irritates me. Friendship, no thank you, I pass.” However, I had prejudged her just as the boy had with his fried worms. God had placed this woman in my life knowing what a blessing she would be, but I let my opinions get in the way and nearly rejected this precious gift.

Hugs and I were friends for nearly twenty years and she was always  there for me through the good times and bad. Her friendship was the real deal —one of those once-in-a-lifetime friendships— and I thank God that He knew what I needed even when I didn’t.

One of the most important things I have finally learned in life is that the decisions I make on my own are almost always the wrong ones. Without God’s help I often desire the things that are not in my best interest and fail to recognize those that are. But, when I pray and seek direction from my Heavenly Father through prayer and through Scripture, I can be confident that I am headed in the right direction and everything will work together for my good for the remainder of my journey.

God is greater than our heart, and knows all things.
I John 3:20

*** Postscript: I believe there are certain things which are not to be eaten, as instructed in God’s Holy Word. Clams are one of those items. This event, however, happened nearly twenty-five years ago before I came to this understanding. I thought I would clarify this for those of you who know me personally and may have wondered what on earth I was doing feeding clams to a child. I now have much better food to feed those I encounter; the Bread of Life, but I do not in any way judge or condemn anyone who has a different understanding and eats those chewy little critters.

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pig.jpg

I can say with certainty that it is not a good idea to ride a pig bareback. On the other hand, it is a hysterical thing to watch if you are on the outside of the pen. I know this because I once busted a gut watching my younger sister’s efforts to conquer a big fat hog. Incidentally, those porkers can really move when they’re riled.

With lightning speed, the hog violently bucked my sister off; which would have silenced me at that very moment had she not fallen into a fresh, mucky puddle of piggy poo– that was just too riotous for constraint.

The hog, relieved to have thrown its burden, paced frantically back and forth squealing some unintelligible swine dialect, uncertain of what to do next. But when my sister stood up, the furious beast decided to charge; she barely cleared the pen before it slammed against the railing in an effort to nail her. That brought me to my senses rather abruptly.

I could just imagine the next day’s headlines: “Nine-year-old girl is killed by charging pig; thirteen-year-old killed by parents for letting it happen!”

Even though she was only bruised and shaken, I was angry that my sister had not listened to me when I forbid her to climb into that pig pen. Then again, she always was pig-headed (pun intended). She just grinned smugly and proclaimed with more than a hint of arrogance: “See, told you I could do it!”

Truthfully, I never really doubted it. That girl was always one to grab the bull by the horns- or the pig by the ears- and seize as much of life’s gusto as she could manage. Though I would never have told her so, I secretly admired my sisters’ sense of adventure and her limitless courage. (Don’t tell her I said that- I would never hear the end of it.)

I, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. Whereas my sister had been raised in such a way as to believe nothing was impossible to her, I was conditioned to believe that everything was. I had absolutely no self-confidence and was pretty much afraid of my own shadow, so I always played it safe. Being an incredibly difficult hurdle to clear, that fear has kept me from fully enjoying life for more years than I care to admit.

And I will confess that even as a person of faith, I spent way too many years being overly cautious, especially in regards to my children. It is only by the grace of God that they aren’t afraid to pursue their dreams and desires, despite my frequent nominations for the Over-Protective Parent of the Year Award. I guess they really took it to heart when their father and I taught them to believe the words of Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Being nearly grown, I’m sure none of my adventurous offspring will ever want to try riding a pig, but it goes without saying that they will undoubtedly want to do other ‘risky’ things on occasion. That may be hard for an old mother hen like me, but I have to realize that I cannot always protect my children, nor should I always try.

Even if their decisions cause them to ‘fall in piggy poo’ once in a while, I still rejoice in their adventurous spirits and their courage. And, I am very thankful that they are willing to take the bull by the horns and go for the gusto. After all, A life making mistakes is not only more honorable, but more useful than a life spent doing nothing.” [George Bernard Shaw]

As for me, I don’t know what the future has in store, but watching my children grow into such fearless young adults has been a great inspiration to me. I’ve even decided to dust off a few old dreams and give ‘em a whirl. After all, I too can do all things through Christ who strengths me. And so can you!

“Don’t fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have.” (Louis E. Boone)

cartoon pig

⇒Disclaimer: My apologies for the following advertisement, if applicable. I would like this site to be an advertisement-free site, but I have to pay a fee for this. I plan to do so in the near future, but for now, please know that I have nothing to do with advertisements &/or advertisement selection.

[I hope you enjoyed this repost from 2010.  Be sure to check back soon for lots of new posts.]

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honeywagon

Have you ever heard of a honey wagon? It isn’t used to transport honey or beeswax; I can tell you that. When I was a young girl visiting my cousin’s farm, we used to swing high in the chilly night air while shouting out the following ditty:

The night was dark, the sky was blue;
Over the hill the Honey wagon flew.
A bump was hit, a scream was heard,
And Ruth-Ann caught the flying……

Well, never mind what Ruth-Ann caught.

Despite its cute, but facetious nickname, there is nothing appealing about a Honey wagon. In fact, the whole thing stinks —literally—but it is still a necessity, especially in rural areas. Without them, how would we haul away all the tons of manure that are generated from cesspools, pig farms, Porta-Potties and the like?

I was reminded of the Honey wagon the other day when I was reading Deuteronomy 23: 12-14. It instructs the Israelites, and those who accompanied them to, “Designate a place outside the camp where you can go to relieve yourself. As part of your equipment have something to dig with, and when you relieve yourself, dig a hole and cover up your excrement. For the Lord your God moves about in your camp.” How much clearer can it be that our God cares about every detail of our lives? This particular regulation, like every other one in Scripture, benefits mankind greatly.

Of course this regulation provided the kind of sanitation that would be required to keep disease out of the camp, but it also kept the camp livable when one of those strong Sinai winds kicked up, which I’ve read is a normal occurrence there. With that many people, all the air freshener in the world wouldn’t have helped had the Israelites built outhouses; which wouldn’t have been practical anyway, since they were a people on the move.

The Scripture does say that the Israelites were to obey this command because the Lord God moved about their camp. That is true also, but not in a literal sense. The Israelite camp was to be a holy place in every way. I don’t quite understand how human excrement could literally defile the camp, but God gave the instruction, so I don’t question it.

I do, however, understand how sin, could defile the camp. The Lord spoke to the Israelites through the prophet Amos while they were dwelling in Samaria. Because they “oppress the poor [and] crush the needy”, the Lord foretells of their great punishment. Among the many specifics, he tells them, “I have made the stink of your camps to come up unto your nostrils: yet have ye not returned unto me…” (Amos 4:10).

This stink had nothing to do with the stuff that goes into Honey wagons, though. He was speaking of the stench of sin, and that, according to His prophetic word, included oppressing the poor and needy.

This was not just an Old Testament principle either. Scripture often classifies the fatherless and the widow as being amongst the poor and needy. Thus, the Apostle James instructs: Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world. (1:27).

Dear friends. In today’s world, many are currently facing financial hardship; some are even facing financial devastation. Despite this, I would just like to remind everyone how very seriously the Lord considers the needs of the poor and disadvantaged, and that He expects us to give generously to those in need, despite the world’s economic situation.

Moreover, brethren, we make known to you the grace of God which hath been given in the churches of Macedonia; how that in much proof of affliction the abundance of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality…. But as ye abound in everything, in faith, and utterance, and knowledge, and in all earnestness, and in your love to us, see that ye abound in this grace also. (2 Corinthians 8:1-2,7).

pencil lady

⇒Disclaimer: My apologies for the following advertisement, if applicable. I would like this site to be an advertisement-free site, but I have to pay a fee for this. I plan to do so in future, but for now, please know that I have nothing to do with advertisements &/or advertisement selection.

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Bedtime was still a few hours away so the girls and I each settled into our own pleasurable activities to wind-down for the night. One of the girls was giggling at an old movie while her sister was on the phone talking faster than anyone could possibly listen.

I too was occupied, completely unaware of the approaching storm. It wasn’t a big storm, just one of those that rolled in quickly, hit furiously, and left suddenly. But there we were, inside a house suddenly blackened by a power outage.

Immediate sounds of scurrying and bumping indicated that someone was slightly frantic. She was searching wildly for her cell phone because she had been disconnected. I suppose it was the urgency of the matter that caused her to forget how helpful the light can be. Her sister was a bit disgruntled at the forced intermission but decided to make the most of it by fixing a sandwich. She could not see into the refrigerator, however and grumbled, “How long till we get the power back?”

Quite amused, I waited a few moments before shedding light on the subject (literally). Because my husband and I are always prepared for a blackout, we always keep two oil lamps, candles and flashlights readily available. If a power outage happens at night, therefore, we are never left unprepared in the dark.

Still, neither of my daughters had thought to take advantage of the light which was practically at their fingertips. I lit one lamp and watched the girls settle into a more peaceful state now that they could see things more clearly.

Gazing at the soft, soothing glow of the lamp, I thought about the ten virgins who took their lamps to meet the bridegroom (Matthew 25:1f). Five wisely prepared their lamps with oil, five did not. Once these five realized they had forgotten the oil, they scrambled in desperation, much like my daughter did for the phone. It was too late. Their lack of preparation cost them dearly.

I thought too, about the unexpected storms of life. There have been times in my life when I was far less prepared than I needed to be when they hit. And like the girls, I was so distracted by immediate circumstances that I didn’t immediately reach for Jesus, the true Light.

One of the things that I dearly love about my husband is his calmness in the face of every storm, both physical and spiritual. Many years ago we faced a very destructive tornadic storm, which caused me great anxiety. I was on the other side of town, when several tornadoes began touching down near my home.

Regardless of the danger, I was determined to return home to my family. Our children were very small at the time and we lived in a mobile home park. Those are not the safest places to live, as evidenced on my way home. Several of the mobile homes from a nearby park had been thrown onto the highway and a few were perched in trees; few were left standing in the park. And to make matters worse, a radio announcement reported that the town located only miles from our home had been mostly leveled.

I assumed my family was in the storm shelter, and I knew deep down that God would protect them, but that didn’t stop worry from gripping my heart. It was not until I pulled into our park entrance that I began to relax; minimal damage was evident, but all was intact.

Rushing through my front door to grab a few things before joining my family, I was stunned to find all of them inside. I sternly asked my husband, “Why aren’t you in the storm shelter?” My husband smiled at me, raised his hands, and his gaze, heavenward and confidently answered, “I am!”

Obviously he knew where The Light was all along and was fully prepared.

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Psalm 119:105).

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Could anyone ever doubt the artistic brilliance of Michelangelo? Though his architectural and engineering feats were prodigious, the paintings and sculptures of this Italian Renaissance man are yet considered to be amongst the most treasured works in all of art history.

It is rumored that the Pope, while admiring Michelangelo’s sculpture of David, asked “How do you know what to cut away?” To which the sculptor supposedly replied, “It’s simple. I just remove everything that doesn’t look like David.”

Whether this dialogue is true or not is uncertain, but it seems this principle was surely applied by Gutzon Borglum, whose artistic vision equaled Michelangelo’s, or possibly exceeded it. Borglum is the creative mastermind who gave South Dakota its legendary Mt. Rushmore National Memorial.

Four of America’s presidents have been immortalized there. Their granite faces gaze eternally over breathtaking South Dakota. And they are gazed upon. More than three-million tourists visit Mount Rushmore each year to marvel at America’s “Shrine of Democracy.”

The tourists are eager to learn of Gutzon Borglum, Rushmore’s fiercely determined sculptor. If not for his artistic genius and ingenuity, the Memorial may never have become a reality. But is it possible that one man could have single-handedly accomplished such a feat? Hardly.

Borglum may have been the brain of the project, and he may get the lion’s share of the glory, but let’s not forget the whole body of Americans who embraced the dream and worked towards its fulfillment. The first name on the Mount Rushmore roster is Doane Robinson. As secretary and historian of the South Dakota Historical Society, he was eager to draw sightseers to his beautiful state.

While thoughts of tourism were freshly churning in his mind, Robinson read that Gutzon Borglum had been commissioned to carve a tribute to the confederacy into Georgia’s Stone Mountain. He thought of South Dakota’s grand mountains and envisioned “all the heroes of the old west peering out from them.” Fortunately for South Dakota, the Stone Mountain project washed out and Gutzon Borglum was free to sculpt elsewhere.

State forester, Theodore Shoemaker, escorted Borglum into the heart of the Black Hills. He felt that the renowned artist would be captivated by Mount Rushmore. Shoemaker was right on the mark. Once Borglum saw this “garden of the gods,” no other mountain would do. “Here is the place!” he announced. “American history shall march along that skyline!”

The dream took wings. From school children’s pennies to philanthropist contributions, monies and resources slowly trickled in. These invaluable contributions were the fuel that kept Borglum’s dream burning, as were the labors of the men who worked for Borglum: the men who drilled, blasted, and polished the Memorial into its present greatness.

When the plans to sculpt Mount Rushmore were first announced, unemployment was very high. Borglum easily gathered a beginning crew of twenty-two men. Most of them, being loggers, ranchers, and miners, knew nothing at all about carving. Yet they not only mastered the skill of stone carving, they did so while hanging over the side of the mountain in small chair-like “saddles.”

Even though the saddles were sturdy and dependable, the work was dangerous and stressful. Each day started with a taxing 506-step climb to the top of the mountain. The men, who were already exhausted, were then lowered down the side of the mountain to drill and chip the rock away bit by bit.

Borglum originally believed that the Memorial could be carved without dynamite, but he was wrong. Before Rushmore’s completion, 450,000 tons of rock was blasted off the mountain. “We have literally carved with dynamite,” Borglum later confessed.

Most of the men who worked on the mountain earned little pay and gained no recognition. So why did they do it? Initially, the men simply wanted to feed their families. Times were hard, jobs were scarce, and men were desperate. At some point, though, the men caught a glimpse of Borglum’s dream. ‘Red’ Anderson explained, “The longer we were there, the more we began to sense that we were building a truly great thing, and after a while all of us old hands became truly dedicated to it.” Through the years, more than 400 men would share the satisfaction of laboring to create the Memorial.

Gutzon Borglum certainly deserves a place of honor in the annals of artistic achievement. “I want somewhere in America,” he said, “ a few feet of stone that bears witness (to) the great things we accomplished as a nation, placed so high it won’t pay to pull it down for lesser purposes.” The Mount Rushmore National Memorial serves its purpose well.

For me, the past week has been life-changing. Many events, some good, some tragic, have caused me to reflect on my own life. In the end, I want my life to count for something. I don’t want to be famous and admired like the Mount Rushmore memorial, but I want to leave a legacy that encourages people to trust the Lord Jesus Christ. And, I want my life to bear witness of the inexpressibly wondrous things that the Lord has accomplished in me and through me.

I thought about the many people whom God has allowed to impact my life. Like the Rushmore workers, some have helped to gently chisel away some of my pain and imperfections. As Scripture says: As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend. (Proverbs 27:17).

The Lord has used less gentile people to shape me as well, some were believers and some were not. They, being tools in the Master Sculptor’s hands, were often more like a forceful blast of dynamite because the Lord was using them to reach the places where my heart was harder. Though I could not always see it, the Lord was working all things out for my good (Romans 8:28).

Circumstances, both good and bad, have also helped define me. More often than not, the circumstances have been those which leave me feeling blessed and enriched, but there have been more occasions than I care to remember, when the circumstances of life were also like the explosive charges that carved Mount Rushmore.

It never ceases to amaze me that Borglum was able to assess a mountain and, at the hands of his workers, blast away everything that did not look like a president. One misplaced charge and Washington could have lost his nose, or Roosevelt his ear. But every time the rubble crashed to the ground and the dust smoke cleared, it was evident that the extraordinary masterpiece was one step closer to its completion.

Look closely at the Rushmore Memorial, however, and you will note that it is not quite finished. I think that is a perfect analogy of the human life. We are all works in progress; and we will never be fully perfected in this life.

Even so, let us show forth God’s excellent craftsmanship in our lives by submitting to the Master Sculptor, Jesus. He knows how to skillfully chisel and dynamite all the hardened places in our hearts and lives until we show forth His glory.

Borglum said, “The purpose of the (Rushmore) memorial is to communicate the founding, expansion, preservation, and unification of the United States…” However, we have an even greater calling than Borglum did. Our calling, our legacy to mankind, is to allow the Lord Jesus to communicate the founding, expansion, preservation, and unification of His kingdom through us.

Finally, let us never forget that His is a kingdom of people. I for one am thankful for all the people who God has used, whether chisel or dynamite, to help refine me. When I think of the rubble lying at my feet, which has been chipped and blasted away in order to make my life into something beautiful, I realize that the Lord’s masterpiece is one step closer to completion.

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. (2 Corinthians 5:17).

As such, we are living memorials of our blessed redeemer. Praise God!

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baby xmas

“Honesty is more than not lying. It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving.”   ― James E. Faust

When parents don’t lie to their children, their children learn to affect their world in positive ways.

My heart had been heavy for the last few days, but my daughter changed that today while we were having another discussion about the importance of obeying Scripture no matter what. Even young people, who view life through an entirely different perspective than previous generations, realize that mainstream Christianity is in the process of a complete metamorphosis; one that is more comfortable and accommodating to today’s culture.  Some of these changes are not always acceptable to fundamentalists like myself.

Thus, my children, though grown, have always lived a little outside the Christian norm because we raised them to take a firm stand despite these changes. Nevertheless, as a parent, I expect my children to make mistakes, or go through spiritual rough patches, and they have. During those times, I wondered, did their father and I do a good enough job? Heaven knows we tried.

Obviously, we’ve done something right. I would like to share with you a true story that happened just last night.

My twenty-one-year-old daughter was visiting with a friend and her mother. This friend I will call Becky, for the sake of privacy. At some point in the conversation, Becky’s mother lied to her daughter about something, and my daughter knew immediately that it was not true. After Becky left the room, my daughter firmly stated, “You just lied to her!”

Becky’s mother replied that, “It was just a little white lie.” My daughter was very disappointed. “But that’s not right,” she countered.

Smirking  just a bit, the woman told my daughter, “Oh come on now, you know your parents told you little white lies when you were growing up –like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.”

“No they didn’t!” She answered truthfully. “My parents always told us that Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny weren’t real; and there is no such thing as a tooth fairy.”

The woman was truly stunned.

“My parents have never lied to us.” my daughter proudly continued, “And I’m pretty sure they never will!”

Shortly thereafter, Becky returned. Her mother’s smugness was gone, replaced with sincerity, as she turned her attention towards her daughter. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she confessed. “I lied to you while ago.” She followed with the explanation that, “I just wanted you to be safe and I thought that it was best to say what I did, but it wasn’t true.”

That wasn’t the end of the matter. Becky’s mother then sincerely apologized to her for lying to her about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny during her childhood. Not surprisingly, Becky was a bit disinterested in that part because it was so long ago, but that’s not the point. I have no doubt that her mother’s admission and apology will have a positive effect at some point.

Becky later confided in my daughter that she knew her mother was lying about the first matter. “Do you want to know how I know?” she asked. Then, not waiting for a response, she added, “My mom always had that same little expression when she used to lie to me about Santa Clause and stuff.” Yes, she knew.

Children trust their parents when they tell them “little white lies” like Santa Clause, but children grow and learn the truth. At some point they know you are lying to them, but they seldom say so. Nonetheless, a seed of mistrust has been planted.

Dear reader, it is not my purpose to condemn anyone with this post, but rather to offer a little food for thought. When you read your children bedtime stories and fairy tales, they understood that they are entering a world of make-believe. On the other hand, they usually understand Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy to be quite real because that is what they are taught from infancy. I have even known parents (even Christian parents) that actually get angry if anyone so much as suggests that children should be told the truth about these fictitious characters. Parents, it seems, enjoy this falsehood every bit as much as the children.

Engaging in these holiday traditions may seem to be nothing more than harmless fun, but in the long run, children will understand that their parents have lied to them from a very early age. And whether they express it or not, there will come a time when they question whether or not their parents were completely honest about other things as well –possibly even God. And yes, this does happen; far more than we care to admit.

I am very proud of my daughter for having the courage to tell Becky’s mother that it isn’t right to lie to her own daughter; and I told her so. Her response was very touching. “I am so glad you and dad never lied to us about Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny,” she said. “If you had, I couldn’t have answered Becky’s mom the way I did, and she would still think that lying is okay. Besides,” she added, “I can trust you and dad to always be honest with me, no matter what.”

That is certainly our intent. My husband and I do not believe in telling lies, not even “little white ones.” A wise man rightly said that those who tell white lies will soon become colorblind. More importantly, Scripture instructs that He that speaketh truth sheweth forth righteousness: but a false witness deceit. (Proverbs 12:17).

Christmas is just around the corner. Trees will be erected, and gifts prettily wrapped. For those who celebrate this holiday (not all Christians do), my question to you is this: will you be truthful with your children, or will you carefully conceal the truth of Santa Clause with the pretty wrappings of tradition? The choice is certainly yours, but please do remember that choices have consequences.

There are dozens of Scriptures that condemn lies and falsehoods, but I will leave those for another time. For now, I leave you with this final thought: Honesty is the foundation of integrity. And it is true that when “The just man walketh in his integrity: his children are blessed after him.” (Pr 20:7).

pencil lady

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