From The Sheep Pen

Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book.  John 20:30

I’ve been thinking a lot about miracles, especially miracles of healing. I’ve often wondered why physical healings seem to take place more often in Third World countries rather than in more “civilized” ones like our country.

What are miracles anyway?  A short definition of a miracle is “something which occurs contrary to natural and physical laws, which produces awe, amazement and wonder.” However, I fear the word “miracle” has been  so broadly  adopted into the language that it’s lost most of its  true meaning.  Read the news or search the Internet. They’re filled with articles about “miracle” drugs, cures, products, movies and stories by people who have no faith in God, but   are quick to label something miraculous when it suits them. Miracles are not for sale nor do they originate in Hollywood studios.  We are warned not to mock God.

The Christian faith is based on the greatest miracle ever recorded in human history. Jesus Christ was crucified, died and was buried in a tomb. After three days He rose from the dead and showed Himself thereafter to his disciples who would bear witness to Him and the resurrection. In terms of being “ contrary to natural laws, creating awe, amazement and wonder,” no other event can come close.

The Gospels also fully attest to the Lord’s miraculous healings, signs and wonders during His three years of ministry. He cast out demons, healed the blind, the deaf and the lame. He raised dead Lazarus, walked on the sea, stilled a raging storm. He took a small basket of bread and fish and multiplied it to feed thousands. He  took authority over a legion of demons and cast them out from the possessed man. Is there any one who can inspire greater awe than the Lord?

A critical point about miracles is that every authentic Biblical miracle always originates with God and points back to God. Over and over Jesus declared that He only said and did what the Father told Him.

Jesus gave them this answer: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. John 5:19

Jesus’ miracles began in prayer and ended with words glorifying the Father through whom He would be glorified.

Jesus answered, “If I glorify myself, my glory is nothing. It is my Father who glorifies me, of whom you say that he is our God. John 8:54

When Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, He  chided Mary about her lack of faith but then gave God glory for the miracle He was about to perform.

“Did I not say to you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” So they removed the stone. Then Jesus raised His eyes, and said, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. “I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me.”… John 11:41-42

One  reason for   Jesus’  public miracles was  so  those who saw them  would believe in  Christ. They were written down for the same reason,  but as   witness to the future.

But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name. John 20:31

Interestingly, John states at the end of his account  that  only a small number of  Jesus miracles  were  recorded.

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written. John 21;25

What an intriguing  Scripture!  I want to know more about these other things that Jesus did.  Might it not be that every small detail of Jesus’ life was miraculous and life giving? Love such as His touched everyone, everything, everywhere and every second of time while He was on earth. How could such healing, life -giving love  be fully recorded? And if they’d “overfill the world’s libraries if written down,” then God, please give me a library card for the Spirit!

We’re called to “believe the life in His Name” and to glorify God.  There are still  tear – stained faces to caress and hearts to heal, just as He healed.   There are still people without a Savior who need His love and mercy.  If we merely chase  signs and wonders, we are living like the skeptical multitudes following Jesus around, hoping to see something extraordinary. After 21 centuries,  do we Christians still need the miraculous to awe and amaze us when we have Jesus Himself and the Holy Spirit abiding in us? What greater miracle is there than the Son of God who offers salvation to a broken world. He who did miracles beyond number during His life is still the same Lord. If  Jesus’  unrecorded miracles would fill up libraries, how much more is available through Him  who is now glorified and who abides in us?  The Church as the Body of Christ is   the Lord’s  greatest library & repository of His Word,   waiting to be filled with  His miraculous life  from  floor to ceiling.

In Jesus’ Name  and to glorify the Father,   I can hardly wait for  miracles to be!

EAG

I saw the piano as soon as I walked into the sanctuary for pre service prayer. A black grand piano is hard to miss. It was a Steinway but I knew that even before reading the name inscribed on the front. Steinway & Sons. The famous logo flooded me with old memories and unexpected tears.

My father and older brother Joe both worked for Steinway Piano Company in Astoria, New York for many years. My father’s work in the factory was his joy, his passion and his pride. After he retired at age 65, he remained enamored with all things Steinway and all things piano until he died at age 104.  Joe was a production  engineer but shaky economics and different management drove him out of the company. He became a consultant with foreign piano manufacturers and eventually developed his signature line of pianos- with my Pop’s unique advice and cooperation!

I often dreamed and prayed that one day I’d walk into church and there would be one of my brother’s beautiful pianos up front in the sanctuary, key board opened, elegant lid propped up , waiting for gifted hands to play. Joe would have loved to see one of his concert grands being used for the Lord’s glory.

The Steinway was an answer to my prayer for a piano at Mountain Life. Sometimes the Lord’s answers aren’t exactly what I pray for, but the fact that God heard, listened and did respond to this cry of my heart is immeasurably sweet. My tears were not for my father and brother who are both gone. My tears were out of gratitude. The indwelling Holy Spirit tells us that God loves us like a doting father . Such love will show up unpredictably to surprise and delight. But that’s not all for God always blesses far beyond the obvious.   God responded to my personal prayer while He also was unfolding something else.

The Steinway was in church because Mountain Life is one of the venues chosen for McCall’s Summerfest 2014. It hosts several concerts during the week long classical music festival.   All week the sanctuary fills with musicians and people who love music. The Steinway resounds throughout the church as different pianists practice.  The atmosphere is charged with gifted people who share their voices , their breath, their particular instruments. And while they may neither know nor admit to it, each talented, gifted man and woman is manifesting the gift God has put into them   in a house of worship!   Without understanding they bless  the Giver in His  chosen venue.   Our God’s ways continually amaze and delight my soul.

For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. 9“For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts. 10” Isaiah 55:8-10.

There is more in God’s divine plan  for  this Steinway being in our church  which  is not yet  revealed.   Miracles take place when we least expect them to. My prayer is that the heart of each musician  opens  up to the Lord’s Presence moving and singing over them  like a Father crooning to His children . Lord God, may You be glorified through the  gift of music,  especially pianos!

EAG

Earlier today I was surfing stations on Sirius Radio in my car when I picked up on this gem: “When it is the hardest to pray, pray the hardest.” Sometimes out of the blue, you hear something which you may have heard hundreds of times or which in other circumstances might not seem terribly pertinent. But in that moment, the  words hit the heart with the inescapable force of the Lord’s Voice. So it was this morning.

Prayer and praying have not come easily. I grew up saying lots of prayers from memory and could recite entire prayer books prescribed by others. But I knew nothing about the act of praying. Prayer was mindless, a ritual . Decades later, I no longer need religion’s  imprimatur  to speak with God. By grace and through His Word, I now can pray, talk, chat, visit, linger, speak, tarry with the Lord whenever I want to, despite   my faltering words.  It is an exquisite privilege. Sometimes praying comes as easily as breathing in the morning air.  Sometimes praying is more like slogging through a mud hole.

“When it is the hardest to pray, pray the hardest.”

The unforeseen crises which numb us are the hardest times of all. A child goes missing. The doctor takes the family aside. A once strong relationship shatters.  When life’s shock waves slam into every cell in my body, prayer seems impossible. Simply getting out of bed becomes monumental. And yet, especially then we’re to pray the hardest. Instead of crawling back into spiritual infancy, God tells us to kneel down and pray. He promises that when we call on His name, He will hear from heaven and deliver us.

If we pray like this when it’s hardest,

I called on Your name, O LORD, Out of the lowest pit. You have heard my voice, “Do not hide Your ear from my prayer for relief, From my cry for help.”… Lam 3:55-56

 Out of the depths I have cried to You, O LORD. Lord, hear my voice! Let Your ears be attentive To the voice of my supplications.… Psalm 130:1-2

Then God will answer us:

Now this I know: The LORD gives victory to his anointed. He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary with the victorious power of his right hand. Psalm 20:6

 As Jesus was being crucified he prayed from the depths of His agony, not for Himself but for His tormentors.

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. Luke 23:34

Then turning to the thief who called out to Him, Jesus fulfilled His own Word – the promise to save as prophesied in Psalms and all of Scripture.

Assuredly I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise. Luke 23:44

When it is the hardest to pray…

The disciple of Jesus cannot be above his master. If the Lord prayed out of the depths, then so must His follower. Nothing, absolutely nothing   is so hard that it can separate us from the mercy and love of God.

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38

 … pray the hardest.”

 The devil deceives us especially in this area. He does not want us to pray at all, let alone pray the hardest. “Praying the hardest” is usually understood to mean persistent, unceasing prayer, not giving up our supplications to be heard , even in the darkest hours. However.  “Out of our depths,” isn’t it the hardest to pray for someone else instead of ourselves?    For most people including Christians, praying for  enemies, forgiving others, blessing those who curse us is not easy even when we’re doing well.  But,  pray for the doctor who said it was cancer? Pray for the drug dealer who sold   dope to my child? Pray for the friend who walked away?  Pray for the person pounding nails into my wrists  and feet?

That is exactly what Jesus did. As His disciples, we are to  do no less. Therein lies the victory.

EAG

It was a good Fourth of July. I puttered in the garden until it got too hot to be outside, then took a nap for an hour, a most unusual indulgence. Dan played a round of golf with some friends. Afterward he prepared platters of jumbo shrimp, his Fourth of July specialty.

Toward evening we rode Dan’s old gas powered Harley golf cart, complete with fringe on top to our neighbor’s. It was a little tricky keeping three pounds of shrimp from bouncing out of my lap since Dan seems to regress into his drag racing mode occasionally, but mercifully the ride was very short. We met several new couples and some old friends. It amazes me how much perfect strangers can have in common. In my case it was connecting with fellow teachers and quilters and people who like to eat. And Christians. As our host prayed before the meal, I knew I was in the family and with family.

After dark, we watched local fireworks from the deck. It was  spectacular enough that I was happy to avoid all the Fourth of July congestion in McCall. Flames of color shot up into the sky, unfolding like gargantuan flowers. The detonations resounded and reverberated over the valley and into the peaks like the sound of cannons. The words of our national anthem written decades  after the Declaration of Independence “and the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air, gave proof through the night…” were written in the sky above me. America’s Independence was not won without cost.

Late into the night I pondered words which are integral to my American heritage: liberty, freedom, rights. Are they the same and thus, interchangeable? It would seem so but they are not the same at all. Freedom is the ability to make choices and decisions without external coercion. Liberty is the legal, moral, societal   framework in which freedom can function. The Preamble to the Constitution states that clearly and precisely.

The word rights is more perplexing and troublesome because in this  shifting linguistic   era,  language has become the enemy’s post modern playground.  The words may be old and deceptively familiar, but their meanings shift like sand in the wind.  Presently,  we Americans are very much about our  civil,  cultural and moral “rights”  : civil rights, legal rights, the right to life, the right to choose, animal rights, states’ rights, constitutional right, gay rights,  marriage rights, the right to die.  The right to have rights.

What right do we really have?

In the Declaration of Independence, our forefathers  made very clear the new citizen’s inalienable rights and where those rights came from:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.”

The Constitution expanded those rights to include others in the Bill of Rights. However, increasingly  these are under  attack from every politically correct  quarter and from people who use  law suits as a way to get what they want when they want it and how they want it. The list of what is “inalienable” has grown very large.

Might it not be that one of the causes of this country’s s present precarious moral, social  and economic brink  is that the tail is wagging the dog? If everything becomes a “right”, then there really is no such thing as a right anymore. If we’re entitled to anything we want, (not need), gluttony and avarice rule.  In the world’s  order ,  the more people receive a right,  the more rights they demand.  Demands breed more demands.

As American Christians we are citizens of another kingdom   living out our lives in this country. We’re in the world but not of it. Thus, we are blessed with freedom and liberty and those inalienable rights legally given to us. We are free to live, pursue happiness, to have liberty. Among our rights are freedom to worship and the right to vote. Or not.

But there is a problem  specific for the American Christian. In Christ we have given up every right to ourselves. In accepting the life of Christ, we surrender everything to Him, including this idea, however good it might be, that somehow we’re entitled. Confessed as a sinner, I have been bought with the price of Jesus’ blood sacrifice and like Paul, bind myself to the Lord as His bondservant. I am only free because He has set me free to do the will of the Father. How different that is from  what I expect as an American. It is a unique  position, a place of opposing principles.   And therein lies the dilemma.

Might it not be that Christians are more in error  than non believers because we pursue our American rights more than we surrender ourselves to the Creator of all our rights.? Jesus lived in His world and accepted all things required of Him, but first and foremost  He gave everything of Himself to the Father. Is it possible that ceaselessly  demanding our  perceived  inalienable American rights has become the “American idol”  we worship. That is not the call of Christ to follow Him. In God’s  very different  order and economy, the more   we give up our right to ourselves, that is the less we demand,  the more we receive.

Reborn into Christ’s  world and  giving up every right to ourselves, in the kingdom where Christ will reign we are already free.  He is our liberty and justice; He is the truth;  in Him  “ eye has not seen and the ear has not heard”  the  happiness God has prepared for us. Bereft of every right to ourselves, we become truly free, liberated to fall before the Lamb singing “Holy, Holy, Holy”, all our rights forgotten in the glory of the living Lord.

EAG

“I can call and reschedule for next week,” my husband said hopefully, looking out the window at the sky. We’d been watching the rain clouds all morning. The Weather Channel had predicted a warming trend and sunnier skies but Friday morning was still scattered rain showers and random down pours. I wasn’t too thrilled at the thought of sitting in a raft on the river and getting thoroughly drenched   in 50 degree weather either.

However, we’d promised our grand daughter and I’ve learned ten year olds have long memories about kept – and broken- promises. Rafting the Salmon River on a day trip   was Dan’s suggestion as a way to celebrate our  anniversary. With grand daughter visiting, it seemed like a great idea. So, there would be no cancellation! We were going despite the conditions. Instead, I sent a short prayer: Lord, let it be special.

And it was. The day turned out so beautifully. The clouds held off and the sun broke through with patches of periwinkle blue sky. The afternoon temperature rose. Layered in wet suit, fleece, rain jacket and bulky life vest, I never got cold. I couldn’t bend, but even when the water sprayed down my neck, I never felt chilled. It was too much fun riding the rapids, getting soaked and laughing.

In between the white water thrills were longer, quieter stretches of the river. Relaxed, we got to know our guide. He shared river history and stories, pointing out old abandoned homesteads where apricot trees were beginning to ripen. Here and there a gold mine was tucked into rocky crevices, like a toothless yawn . Thickets of blackberry bushes white with blossoms blanketed the hillsides. I spotted an orange tanager flitting along the river bank and followed an eagle’s flight as he disappeared high into the cliff tops.

“Be still and know that I am God.” Too often I pray this when I am agitated. On the quiet river I became quiet also. God’s river world is filled with endless motion, beauty and surprises at every bend. It was easy to see differently and to pay deeper attention. I noticed details, like the silvery swirls of river water  cascading from the boatman’s oars the and broken fishing lures threaded in the weeds. I saw Dan and Gretchen light up with joy and knew the Lord was very near. I felt stilled and filled, as if I were standing before a masterpiece seeing it through the painter’s brushstrokes.

Later, Dan mentioned that seeing the river from the raft was a lot different than seeing it from the road or the bank. He put into words what I was sensing. The view and perspective being in/on the river is vastly different from looking at it from above or elsewhere.

As believers, we’re called to step into the river, into the flowing, living waters of new life in Christ Jesus. Sometimes it is to cross a Red Sea, like Moses leading his people from bondage. Sometimes Jesus calls us to be Peter and walk out onto the storms of a Lake Galilee.    “Come”, He invites the Samaritan woman. “Drink of my water and you will never thirst again.”

When he was shown the vision of the river of healing Ezekial prophesied:

“…and it was a river that I could not cross for the water was too deep, water in which one must swim, a river that could not be crossed.” (47:5)

“…And it shall be that every living thing that moves, wherever the rivers go, will live, there will be a very great multitude of fish because these waters go there; for they will be healed, and everything will live wherever the river goes.” (47:9)

Jesus always invites us to be where He is and where His Spirit flows. His Spirit is the healing River we’re called to enter fully, revealed at the end of time as “a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb.” (Rev: 22:1

If we are to know Jesus at all and enter into the Gospel of healing and life, where “everything will live where the river goes.”, then we need to get past our own ability to swim across. It is impossible to  do so and remain on the bank or look down from roads passing by. From those perspectives we may think about being in the river, observe the river and talk about the river, it is even possible to pray about the river, but at the end of our Christian day, our hearts and spirits,  like our feet will still be bone dry.

EAG

I love our Pastor Rob! And I love when he preaches the wooly socks off of the sheep like he did this morning.  He is one of those rarities – a man who preaches God’s word in his own inimitable style and allows it to move him – and us – to tears. His passion for the Lord is infectious and a delight to me who grew up in a family and church where emotions were held tightly in check. There were no Kleenex boxes in  cathedrals.  I love that the Holy Ghost tenderizes our hearts and that it’s OK to weep a little because of God’s presence.

Pastor Rob’s message was  “Grow Up”, that is,  mature as Christians. It’s a recurring Word for Mountain Life Church this year and so when I hear the same theme being preached, my ears perk up. It means “Pay attention.”  The core of the lesson is that God has given each person special, unique gifts, something which we are good at and love to do and can’t NOT do! All that’s required is to tap into the deep, personal reservoir of gifting and use it to serve others. Why? Not for ourselves but to glorify the Giver.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus admonishes his disciples who want to send the hungry crowd away. “You give them something to eat,” the Lord says. (You do it. What’s inside your hands? What has God put there for you?) Jesus then manifests the Father’s divine largesse by multiplying five loaves of bread and two fish. He feeds five thousand tired and hungry people. Why? For sure because they were hungry. But the point of the miracle was solely for the glory of His Father because Jesus did only what the Father told Him to do.

As Christians, we grow up by not holding on tightly to what God blesses us with.

During May and June’s glorious weather, I’ve been out in the gardens a lot, digging, planting, watering, mucking about. It is that very thing that Rob talked about, a passion deep inside me which won’t go away. My husband is amused by and most tolerant of my “grubbing in the earth” as he calls it. He could care less about this passion of mine. Give him a round of golf any time and he is happy. Ho hum!

If we’re supposed to mature through the gifts in us, then how in the world does gardening fit in? It certainly can’t be for the amount of actual veggies which will produce for I’ll be fortunate if it doesn’t freeze early or the deer don’t invade the salad bar.

It is this. More than flowers and vegetables have been growing while I tend to the gardens. While I’m digging in the soil and getting my hands dirty,  the Lord’s been plowing up  rocky, unfertile places in my heart. He has planted what I never could grow on my own. There is perseverance, dedication and focus  as  I work the ground and beds in early spring and summer. There is patience  and problem solving in place of frustration when the weather or temperature or plants don’t cooperate.  Watching young seedlings establish and grow, knowing they will become what they’re designed for, I ‘m filled with anticipation and hope.   Midway in the season,I envision  fall’s changes, next year’s spring, dream beyond what’s right now. In the garden the Lord brings visions and ongoing life.

Always there is joy, love and great delight, creating something beautiful in  earth’s clay. Out of that comes heartfelt praise for God, a song sung to Him alone because of all His goodness and bounty. From the single seed-gift,  a passion for gardening, He has showered blessing upon blessing to  transform  my heart and what’s in my hands. That I can plant in  the world to share for the glory of God through Christ Jesus.

EAG

Another day is over and night time does draw nigh. Earlier, the sky gorged itself with fat storm clouds until it spilled over in a quick torrent of rain. I watched the downpour, glad for the sudden rain which waters garden roots deeply and thoroughly. I could almost observe my newly planted beds greening up.

There are still patches of orange and gold soaked in the clouds, but night inevitably comes. Darkness draws nigh, a lovely image and such an old fashioned word. It is a poetic word, made to rhyme with “sigh”, the breath expelled heavily when I am either distressed or weary. Tonight I am neither for there’s been a prayer in my heart all week which gives me courage to face uncertainty and very troubling times.

“Whenever I am afraid/I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word). In God I have put my trust. I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?” Psalm 56:3-4

Like David, I’ve had to face fears , sudden enemies and that disturbing thought about bodily harm.  Flesh knows all too well how to hurt flesh. The pages of history are full of man’s cruelty to man. Today’s culture thrives on ratcheting up the violence and it’s impossible to ignore it. How is it possible to be fearless when one is threatened?

The psalm does not ignore evil or evil men. Instead, it tells how to overcome the fear of it. First of all, the mighty warrior and king  admits his human weakness, “whenever I am afraid…” Too often we go whistling in the dark and try to pretend we’re not afraid. That is not courage, but foolhardiness masking false pride.

Then David quickly turns to the Lord, and speaks to Him: “I will trust in You! I will praise His word.” He praises God’s word knowing it is the divine covenantal promise of protection and mercy for God’s people. What a great promise to claim for ourselves! If God is for us, then who can dare be against us? Indeed! Praising God’s Word and trusting in it is like filling up the spirit with light and gold shining through threatening storm clouds. It allows the Holy Spirit’s rain to seep as deeply as a flash rainstorm drenches dry ground.

Because I ache to trust God with every one of my fears, I have to ask the question.    Why did David have such utter and intense trust in God? What did he know about Yahweh’s character that allowed him to pray like this?

When David faced Goliath as a young shepherd boy, he spoke these words to the Philistine:

“You come to me with a sword and a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. ” 1Sam 17:45

As a mere shepherd, David had  known  the LORD by one of His Names, “the Lord  Sabaoth, the Lord of hosts.” It is a most powerful attribution of God . It is one which, I believe has been hidden and lost to many believers today.

More to come on this blessed Name of the Lord!

EAG

Exodus 33:3 “Go up to the land flowing with milk and honey…”

This has been a week of celebrations: a birthday, my children’s wedding anniversary and a day which is especially meaningful to me – the day my family came to the United States.

It was May 22, 1950. As our ship the Queen Mary approached the shores of America, we saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time. The ship rounded her as it pulled into New York harbor, but my family kept looking and pointing to the Statue excitedly. They had finally arrived in the land which promised them hope, a new life, dreams to be attained. Having left everything they once knew behind them,   my parents, my brother Joe and I started to live all over.

I don’t remember very much about our arrival. I was young and have very few memories of my early childhood so I can only conjecture what it was like. But I have several black and white photographs of us standing at the rail of the Queen Mary, the wind blowing hard off the Atlantic Ocean and the Statue of Liberty in the background. We were immigrants coming to the Promised Land of America – and the Statue of Liberty was there to welcome us.

The photos still   move me a lot.  They remind me, of course, of my family – my parents, my older brother Joe, all of whom are now gone. They remind me of a much more innocent and hopeful era, when it was possible to leave evil times behind and look forward only to the good. Mostly, I am reminded how God did bless us, how we found refuge “in the shadow of His wings” and were allowed  to prosper in this land of blessedness.

My parents always referred to this country as “America”, not as the United States. This could be simply because in German, die Vereinigten Staaten was just too much of a mouthful to say. However, I believe that the very word “America “ was then a powerful word image for people who lost everything and arrived at its shores to begin again. It is the country conceptualized in the song “America the Beautiful” and of course in “God, Bless America.”

I have to admit that I have never been a super patriot. My wariness and reluctance stems from knowing first hand the evils arising out of extremist and racist patriotism. But then May 22 comes around again. I see that beautiful statue in New York harbor in the background as my mother held me in her arms. God reminds me that it was for His purpose that we came to America.  If He’s blessed us with “the good life , the American dream”, that also has a purpose–  to give Him daily thanks for His goodness. Simply put, we were brought to this country in order to glorify God.

Exodus 33: 5 “… Now therefore take off your ornaments that I may know what to do to you. 33: 6 So the children of Israel stripped themselves of their ornaments by Mount Horeb.

The  post 911 skyline of New York  is very different now and there are those who would probably do violence to  the Statue of Liberty also.  The greater violence  is  to the  Spirit because  post modern culture  no  longer has faith in God or America and   has become a “stiff-necked people, ”   dressed up in ungodly ornaments.  Nevertheless, the God in “God, bless America”  reigns  as He always has.  There is still milk and honey flowing to America’s shores from His hand, as it did for my immigrant family. What is required now is to heed God’s   ancient warning before it is too late, before the flow ceases.

EAG

Today at the food bank, we gave out a lot of food to a lot of families. People were already lined up in front of the building and waiting at 3:00 even though we don’t open until 4:00. Some individuals come early to get a number because they want to be first in line and first to come in the door. At times there are disagreements as to “who’s on first.” The arguments seem foolish, but they indicate to me how important the weekly food is to the families. This is their world.

Some people come early because they don’t have any place else to go and have nothing to do on Wednesdays. Some come for the company so they can chit chat with others. I have no idea about their conversations, but almost everyone knows everyone else. It is a small town and the food bank community is a social group unto itself.

I also come an hour early and greet those waiting in their cars. I answer someone’s inevitable question, “Are you open?” “When are you giving out the numbers?” Not, not yet.   Soon.

Elk Creek is in charge for May. Lynn and Lewis  have everything well organized . Volunteers   fill the shelves and put away donations.   Fresh produce, packages of bread, vegetables,  bottles of juice and water line the long table in the middle of the room. There is some fruit and always a box of bananas from the grocery store. The atmosphere before we open is calm and filled with friendly chatter.

We gather to pray before we call in the first group of clients. We bless those who are waiting and those who will be serving. We thank God for His amazing abundance once again and ask Him to guide us for the next two hours. I personally pray for more compassion and a sense of humor because I need lots of both in this ministry.

The clients come in and the volunteers work with them. I overhear small bits of conversations. “Hello. I’m Lewis. What’s your name?” Mothers ask for diapers. Food flies out the door as it does every week. Tonight there are only four new clients, but so far this month there have been a dozen more. A young man tells me he’s moved here from Ontario to get away from gangs and drugs. He seems anxious to work and says he’s pretty skilled with his hands. He has six month old twins but so far no job prospects. Then there’s the young girl, heartbreakingly frail   with a baby in a carriage. She can’t be more than 17 and has walked over two miles to get food. A client offers to drive her back home.

On my way home I wondered at this work we’re called to. I know the work is not just about food. Tonight I saw that  the Holy Spirit was very present in the work.

Galatians 5:22-23 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

Elk Creek Church volunteers were most faithful to help and were filled with the joy of serving. Instead of chaos there was a sense of peace and well being both inside and outside the building. Those waiting a long time to be served exhibited great patience and self control with one another – and we with them. Was it not kindness and gentleness for the woman to take the young girl back home so she wouldn’t have to walk? Above all, is it not God’s vast, inexhaustible love for us which moves our hearts to love the poor. The proof lies in the Spirit’s   living fruit in those  who were present. From that, surely today I received so much more than I gave.

EAG

This morning my two sweet grand daughters woke me up, trying not to spill the hot cup of coffee which they’d carefully brought to me. “Happy Mother’s Day, Oma,” they giggled. “You don’t have to get up yet, but we brought you this.” I got up happy because they were up.  I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

It’s Mother’s Day, that special holiday where we honor our mothers.  Perhaps today Moms were served a special breakfast in bed or at the table or taken out for brunch or allowed to sleep in for a precious hour longer. Because “It’s what Mom wants, “ prodigals even went to church willingly on this Sunday.   Pastors blessed them.   Mothers smiled and prayed.

Of course, there is the commercial side to Mother’s Day. It is the second biggest consumer spending holiday, Christmas being Number One,  and it’s estimated that between 18 to 19 ½ billion dollars is spent. Yes, that is billions. And yes, that’s a lot of flowers, brunches,   dinners and Hallmark moments. Sentimentality works so well in our consumer driven culture.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you. Exodus 20:12

It isn’t sentimentality that makes me remember my mother today. It is God’s commandment to honor our mother and our father, even after they are no longer on this earth. I was taught this as a child and have never forgotten. Why? Because my  parents  honored their parents in fact and and always in memory of them.

My mother was not a sentimental person. She lived to be 88, had a good, long life. Her legacy to me is a full one. Now seven years after her passing, all the memories are precious even the difficult ones. She was a woman of deep faith in God who gave her the strength to endure horrific circumstances. She gave me life more than birth. But that’s another story.

I will remember my mother with flowers. In front of me on the table is a vase filled with lilies of the valley, fat green leaves and long stems holding tiny, white bell- shaped flowers. I tell the children that if they’re very quiet and listen carefully, they might hear the bells resound, like a sea shell held up to the ear. They’re still young enough to be filled with wonder. I also tell them that their Great Oma Elisabeth loved Maiglogchen ,  lilies of the valley, because they reminded her of Germany.

My mother loved flowers of every kind, had a front garden filled with flowers from spring through fall. Strangers and friends usually stopped to visit and ask her gardening secrets. New York rain and humidity, good black soil helped, but my mother had the creative gift for growing good and beautiful things and for welcoming people into her life.

The Maiglogchen in the vase grew in  my daughter’s Utah garden.  My mother’s legacy is being passed on  from me to my children and to theirs. This week I will dig up some pips to take home and transplant. Next year when they come up beneath my deck  they will   remind me  of my mother and  honor her. I believe that all prayers in the garden go straight to God’s heart!

EAG