From The Sheep Pen

And God said, Let there be Light.  Genesis 1:1

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1

Human language may be the least understood gift of God’s many gifts to mankind. We come into the world unable to speak, but then sometime between the ages of one and two, the infant tongue is loosed and begins to create meaningful sounds.  The special joy of hearing our little ones utter their first words and then their first sentences is infectious. Humans  are wired for language. 

 We are the only species to think, speak and communicate in words instead of grunts and gestures. Scientists cannot explain language phenomena with any degree of –  well –  science.  Sociologists, anthropologists, psychologists, “Darwinologist” and every other “ologist” make attempts to fit language within their own discipline’s paradigms but it remains a mystery, one  they do not readily admit to. *

 Back in my college days, a linguistics professor opened my eyes to how language  normally changes  over time. We no longer speak Elizabethan English as Shakespeare did and two hundred years ago computer terms would have been gibberish. ( Still are to me! )  Less obvious  is that language is often  subtly and deliberately manipulated to form opinions, affect our choices in the marketplace and shape the future by appealing to the self: needs, emotions and experiences.  It is a deadly tactic. Madison Avenue was once the apparent power in advertising  to seduce people to buy  certain products and render  them  indispensible to the consumer.  Think Coca Cola or McDonald’s or Disney and how those names are globally entrenched. More importantly, today there are even more insidious agencies working to shape  the larger marketplace of  culture, values and history through language.

Words have power to occupy our minds and souls. In 2021 the power of language and of individual words should be pretty apparent.  In what seems a staggeringly  short time,  words  we all knew have changed so drastically and so rapidly that one struggles to make sense of them. Postmodernism and relativism  have done away with the plumb lines of moral absolutes. “Truth“ is now an incoherent abstraction echoing Pilate’s cynical response to Jesus: “What is truth?” And thus, like Pilate the world gives itself permission to think and act without consequence or constraint. It begins with hijacking language and targeting ideas and words which have always  had moral contexts, especially those coming from the Judeo-Christian ethic.  Words like “marriage, gender,  fetus,  law and justice “ today  mean only what the individual – or more importantly someone up the power chain – interprets.  I don’t know what is on today’s bucket blacklist.  The daily list of “doublespeak” grows like a cancer and like the Nazi  burning of forbidden  books,  words are burning on the devil’s pyre.

Language presently is not about context or lexicology but about  seduction and control.  I believe specific words are being used as weapons by those in power to create fear,  confusion and  division among  us.  It is also to create a common global language based on self idolatry  devoid of moral, ethical or spiritual  values. What is one to do  such an onslaught? Specifically, how can Christians witness with love and grace? How can we stand on the Word with our words?

This is nothing new. The Enemy has been playing head word games with people since the beginning. In the Garden  Satan enticed Eve to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge by manipulating her  to doubt God’s Word of warning.  When Satan spoke the first lie to Eve, “Did God really say… he  slyly insinuated  that God was not God!  He made God out to be a liar like himself.

And therein lies the crux of the problem.  There is only one original liar and it is not the Creator. One of the very first things God revealed about Himself in Genesis 1 is that He is a God who speaks.  His Word created light and life when there was only darkness and chaos.   God doesn’t, cannot  change and thus, logically  neither does His  Voice or  His Word which are  revealed in the Scriptures. They point to the promise of the Messiah who would save God’s people. For thousands of years, God spoke  through the prophets of Jesus, the incarnate Word of God. In John’s beautiful introduction to the Gospel of Jesus, he wrote,

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.

 The Creator chose to share language with humans. Jesus spoke  human words  to a broken, desperate  world, desperately in need of salvation just like ours.  He offered Himself in the most simple words  – as  the Truth, the Life and the Way. His words are “spirit and life”. They are our only hope, the  alternative to the lies, deception and death still coming out of Satan’s mouth with the help of duped humans. We cannot afford to listen to any other voice than the One sent as the Holy Spirit . We cannot afford to accept language and carnal words seeking to destroy body, mind and spirit. We cannot afford to stop hearing God’s total, sufficient and complete Word. Like Peter our response to Jesus must be

“Lord, to whom shall we go for you have the words of life. We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God.”…  John 6:68

 It is the Lord God who gave us language, not language that gave us God. Whom then shall we believe today? Which voice occupies our minds and thoughts.  If we want “freedom” or “justice” or  “truth”, etc., we  can either cower in fear while  the  adversary  continues to lie with words.  Or we kneel before God  confessing that we  believe the truth  of God’s Word, through  Jesus, the living Word and  asking Holy Spirit  so that we can  know the truth which sets us  free. The consequences of not doing so are deadly not only for us, but for our children and grandchildren.   There is no middle ground in this war of words.  There never has been.

* For an interesting, secular  overview of the failure of science to explain the existence of language, I suggest “The Kingdom of Speech ” by Tom Wolfe.

Both sides of my birth family were blessed with natural longevity, at least those who survived the war in Europe.  My mother lived to be 88; her sister and brother  almost into their 90’s. My father as I may have written before was an alert and loquacious 104 when he passed away. Though he was the oldest of five, he  outlived all of them who were at least octogenarians. When I tell people about my mother and dad, they’re invariably astounded and wish me the same long life. A  research group was  interested in finding out why my father lived such a long life. They were curious about his health habits, his genetics and his life attitudes.  They never actually came  to interview Pop but my husband Dan  had an answer.  “He has a reason to get up every morning. You have to have a reason to get out of bed every day.”

My father  never smoked, was never overweight and drank beer or wine very moderately. But for over thirty years after retiring from his job,   he went into his wood working shop  every day and worked on one of his many projects. The only exception was on Sundays, what he called Feirtag, the day of rest from labor.  My father was what is known in his profession as a Holzwurm, a “wood worm”, one who is as passionate about wood as avid gardeners are about plants. It wasn’t easy for my mother who often complained about the sawdust he constantly trailed into her German clean living room and kitchen.  During one of my visits, my parents and I went to a botanical garden. While Mom and I admired the beautiful flowers gardens, Pop stopped at every tree to extoll their  wondrous qualities, mentally  putting them under saw and  chisel at home.  As my father aged  well past the time he should have been using power machinery, as his eyesight failed and his hands became more arthritic,  and especially after my mother passed on, he  stayed in bed longer in the morning. However, eventually after his breakfast he’d still  go  to his workshop to putter. Unlike many retirees who lose their purposes in life,  my father never lost  his passion and  created beautiful, museum worthy inlay pieces which he gave away to us. It is our inheritance which we pass on to children  and they to theirs.

We live in a different world than our parents did. Some days it’s a monumental  effort to face the day. I am not alone. The world I knew is spinning like a dervish whirlwind in the desert. Families are in turmoil. We’re being forced into making hard choices not under our control. Language has become a weapon. The news is disastrous to our souls.  Depression and suicide are alarmingly on the rise in this culture of death and deception.  Honestly, I  feel battered in my Christian walk while the devil whispers, “ “Give it up. It’s all over. What is the reason to get out of bed? ”   

Like the psalmist, we cry out to God. Have you forgotten us?

I recall a  childhood catechism lesson.  Question: “Why did God make me? “Answer: “God made me to know, love and serve Him. “ It echoes God’s Word to the Hebrews in the Old Testament.

…that you may love the LORD your God, obey Him, and hold fast to Him. For He is your life… Deuteronomy 30:20

The simplicity is astounding and more profound than a library filled with theology. We’re  here on planet earth to know God first and then to serve Him.  We’re alive so as to be in intimate relationship with the Father,  to abide in love with Jesus as Lord an Savior and to be empowered by Holy Spirit in serving others.  God  is the God of the living, not  of dead things  so as long as we have breath,  He calls us to life in His Son.

‘For in Him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are His offspring.’Acts 17:28

Should this not be the most exciting reason in all the universe(s) to wake up with hope every day, no matter what?  To jump out of bed grateful for another day to know God? We’re the sentient offspring of the Almighty! It’s not the profession, the job we once had, our artistic passions or even the  ministry which  causes us to come awake.

Therefore He says: “Awake, you who sleep, Arise from the dead, And Christ will give you light.” Ephesians 5:14

The life of every living thing is in His hand, as well as the breath of all mankind. Job 12:10

 Spending time with the Lord in His secret workshop, learning how to create beauty, peace, joy and love with Him, through Him and in Him – this is the true reason for my raison d’etre – and yours.

It’s Easter Sunday. It still looks like winter with snow piled four feet high  in the back where the plow dumped snow for the last four months. And it’s still too cold to leave my parka at home. But, a few purple crocuses dare to peek from the ground and I just saw a very fat robin digging beneath a shrub. Joy, oh joy! It is the time of rebirth and resurrection.

I never tire of this mountain landscape or thanking God  who has wonderfully orchestrated my life. I  ask myself more than once:   How in the world  did  I get here to central  Idaho from the Bronx? You see, I grew up in the upper Bronx  during my childhood and adolescence in apartment buildings and on concrete streets. It was where my family came from Germany and where they instilled their faith and religion into me and my brothers.  Because of them, I have known and celebrated Easter for a very long time – except for when I did not.

Easter in my family was a religious holiday  in that it  meant going to  our neighborhood church and attending Mass which on Easter was always a “High Mass”, which meant it was longer than the normal hour  service which meant that we kids had to  really sit still and not squirm on the hard wooden pews or suffer the consequences of our mother’s steely eyeball pinioning us into proper attention.  Or worse later on. I actually loved the heightened pomp of these Masses: the acolytes hovering near the priest, the candles and the golden, swinging censers which sent out clouds of cloying smoke. I always came with a prayer book and later a missal and of course the de rigeur accessory of every Catholic schoolgirl – a pearl or silver rosary – looped  just so over my hands. The missal gave me reading material when I was bored and it was probably there I actually learned the content of the Gospels more than from the priest’s homily. Of course I had no idea what was going on at the altar with the priests and attendants, especially before Vatican  2 when all we saw from pew seats  was the backs of the celebrants chanting in Latin.   (The Latin Mass was my first language instruction. By osmosis a lot of it just seemed to stick to my brain). After Vatican  2, when the priest faced the congregation and celebrated in English, it was so radical that many Catholics were upset. It was no longer familiar.

But before church, the most exciting event was to find an Easter basket filled with shredded green  paper grass and a large, gold foil wrapped chocolate rabbit, some colored eggs and jelly beans scattered about, perhaps a coloring book and best of all, brand new crayon! While younger brother gobbled off the rabbits’ ears, I couldn’t wait to open up the box of 24, look at each beautiful, crisp  Crayola, like exotic fruit. My mother sometimes put in a jar of bubbles with the stern warning: Outside only. Not on the furniture!  I knew it was my parent, not the fairy tale  Osterhaase, who’d left the basket near my bed because her smiles and giggles always gave her away. We never hunted for eggs  because our  basement apartment had no backyard except for a   concrete pad and you couldn’t very well hide eggs outside on the sidewalks ! Egg hunts were not part of our tradition.

We walked several blocks to church as a family. April in the Bronx was often rainy, cold, and miserable, but walk we did, not matter what. That’s what umbrellas and spring coats were for. Peter wore his new Sunday suit because he’d always outgrown last year’s. “It itched like crazy, “ he told me recently. It took weeks before the stiffness wore off. I in turn wore a new dress bought just for Easter and still remember the blue sailor dress with its square, cape-like collar that dwarfed my shoulders. I felt terribly grown up in that dress and tried to wear it all the time. And of course, there were hats to go with the new dress. Sometimes I got a bandeau covered in daisies or roses. Sometimes it was a straw boater with ribbons. And sometimes, as a teen I’d choose one with a short flouncy veil because my cousin boasted one  like it. It often hugged my scalp like a vise, itched like crazy  and gave me a headache, but a new hat every Easter, just like the other girls had,  made me feel less gawky and shy. My father never went to church without a suit, usually brown, with a white shirt and  off color polyester tie. Mom wore her best, rarely new dress and last year’s hat and always seemed less cranky after church than before.

My parents were staunchly Catholic about some things like going to Mass, but in other ways they closed one eye to the church’s dictums. In particular, Mom served meatless meals on required holy days, but she never once fasted or asked us to do so.  My father dutifully knelt to pray in church but privately he had a lot of questions with no answers.  And silence.  My parents taught us our childhood prayer, but I received no instruction in the faith from them because that was the business of the nuns in school and priests at church. That was how my parents and their parents before them all the way back for generations  had learned.

Easter in my childhood had no meaning outside the rituals and teachings of  Roman Catholicism. I knew the facts of Jesus’ crucifixion, death and resurrection, that he died for my sins  and I loved the stories about Jesus’ life but there was no connection to the bigger story and meaning of salvation. I never heard of a personal relationship with Jesus or that God actually speaks to us. The Holy Ghost was an enigma, one I hardly remember being aware of. There was no Bible in our home or Scriptural references to the Bible.  It would have been unseemly in my parents’s eyes. They held priests and doctors in equally exalted positions and  never questioned their authority.  We children were expected to be equally respectful  and acquiescent and to remain innocent of things beyond our ken.

I think back to those  Easter days  in the Bronx, to the love of my parents and how simply we celebrated Christ’s Resurrection. I am grateful to them for seeding me with their faith, for all their prayers through the years and for being moral and godly parents. The journey from then in the Bronx to now  in New Meadows, Idaho, has been interesting, to say the least, but I can honestly say. Thank You, God for all of it.  Thank You God, for where I was and where I am now. Today I  celebrate and sing: Resurrexit, sicut dixit. Alleluia. Alleluia.

He is not here; He has risen, just as He said! Come, see the place where He lay..Matthew 28:6

Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?” Matthew 16:15

My husband and I just returned from  a two week road trip to Phoenix and back through Salt Lake City (to visit with our daughter’s family.)  We’ve never considered ourselves “snowbirds” but the winter was long, the snow and cold seemed endless and like so many others, we were tired of Covid-required sheltering in place.  It was time to get away into a sunnier climate. We traveled over 2600 miles in the time we were gone so it’s a good thing that Dan and I are seasoned travel companions having made numerous  cross country trips, once with three children in a Suburban. Most of the time, the vast expanses and variety of landscapes of this country remind and inspire with God’s creation, bounty  and beauty. (There is, however,  the one forgettable  time we drove across Canada from coast to coast which was about as exciting as Kansas without the sunflowers. ‘Nuff said.)

The vast, arid landscapes of the southwest  were as beautiful to me  as any tropical vacation spot. I can understand why artists emigrate to canyons and mesas shadowed with light and painted by sunsets. I wish I could describe the endless textures of clouds, hills and desert rolling like a scroll past our car. In the desert, I sense the God of the patriarchs, of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I sense how Jesus walked in the wilderness not unlike what is splayed out in Nevada and Arizona. It’s not difficult to find Him anywhere and everywhere.

It was good to go away and recalibrate my perspective which tends to get pretty narrow  living in a small rural town like New Meadows. However, it was better to come home again. Today we attended church which I’ve missed. Admittedly, I’m not faithful to pray much sitting 8 hours in the car and then  settling into half a dozen  motel rooms. It was good to listen to the Word, to worship and reconnect with believing friends. Vacations are great, even necessary, but I’ve missed my quiet time with  the Lord .

Earlier before church, I pulled up my daily Tozer devotional and was struck by Tozer’s words:

What I believe about God is the most  important thing about me.

Tozer is saying that there’s one singular criteria by which we are defined: faith or unbelief. Either God is the God of the Bible revealed in Jesus or He is something else defined ( not revealed) by human ideas. It really stopped me in my tracks.  This week as  Holy Week  moves toward Christ’s crucifixion, death and resurrection,  I am asking myself, what do I believe about God? About Jesus?   C.S. Lewis made the statement that there are only three choices to believe  about Jesus.  He was either a fraud, a lunatic or Messiah as He claimed.  Your answer  defines you to the world.  Sadly, the same world rejects Jesus as Messiah and dares to make him either  fraud or liar. Or both.

Jesus  posed  the same question about Himself to the disciples.  In the 19^th chapter of Matthew, Jesus had  been alone in prayer when the disciples came to him. Jesus inquires what the crowd says about Him.  They replied,

…Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, that a prophet of old has arisen  v. 19

Jesus presses them. “But what about you?” Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?”

It is Peter who gives the right answer and confesses  Jesus as The Christ of God under the power of the Holy Spirit. His confession of faith in Jesus as Messiah has to be the lynchpin of our own belief for it is  the only thing that will lead to the saving grace  of Good Friday and the power and joy of Easter Sunday.  Anything less than Jesus Messiah is meaningless.  Anything more is fraudulent. . 

And now I feel like I must speak to an issue which may tread on some toes. I don’t want to offend or be disrespectful to any songwriters or faithful worship teams. However, sometimes in church the  worship  lyrics  present a very  incomplete  picture of Jesus. We make  Him so accessible to us, to what we need and pursue  that  the  confession of our lips and hearts diminishes  the only thing that Jesus  accepted about Himself, Peter’s words, “ You are the Christ of God.”  As such, Jesus  describes Himself in John  14:6.

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

Only Jesus as Christ can make such an astounding claim which is  light years beyond what a currently popular song says about Jesus, insisting “that is  who you are.”  It’s got a catchy tune and catchy phrases, but it misses the mark of our confession.

What about you? Do you confess Jesus purely as the Son of God and all that is implied therewith?  Does your belief about Jesus  concur with Jesus’ own words?  Does the  person of Jesus as “the Way”  challenge  the description of  Him as Waymaker, (which is who  John the Baptist was.  The lesser before the greater)?  Is Jesus Miracle worker or the Fountain of life?  Promise Keeper or the Promise Himself? 

In this week before our Christian faith’s most important celebration of Easter, it would behoove us to honestly come before the Lord and respond to Jesus’ question. “Who do you say I am?”

To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: Ecclesiastes 3:1

March is here, coming not like the proverbial  lion but with clear skies and bright sunshine. However, it’s still cold and snow will lie on the ground for weeks.   The dog has packed a  narrow snow tunnel toward the front door; berms from the plow reach all the way to lowest branches of the ponderosas.   Ice chunks curtain the eaves of the house and fill up the rain chain hanging outside the kitchen.  But, I see the slow drips of snow melt in the sunlight and spring will arrive officially mid month. I give it a heartfelt welcome!

For years I’ve kept two large Christmas cactuses and a yellow orchid gifted by a friend on the windowsill of our dining area where I write in the mornings. Recently my daughter gave me another one – an “orchid”- hued orchid.  The mini garden lifts my spirit on long, grey winter days, like the promise of spring this morning.   The cactuses actually bloom in late fall, not at Christmas and have been dormant for months. Their soil is hard, compacted  and are difficult to water. They need to be repotted but the last time I did that, the transplanting shock set them back a lot. It seems they actually like the adverse  conditions and spotty watering since they continue to thrive, blooming  every single year right on schedule!  

Right now the orchids are in bloom, their lovely waxy flowers opening on slender stems which have to be supported.  They too have their dormant season  but now in late winter, in early spring they will be in full bloom. Cactus and orchid, each in their own time, have cycles of resting and then  blooming profusely. It delights me that here on my windowsill, I see both the resting and the flowering going on all year long. While I wait for one, the other births colorful blossoms.

God’s Word reminds me over and over about timing and seasons. All things are held in His  hand.  He ordains  time  for  seasons of dormancy and season of  birth and growth,   “according to  every purpose under heaven.” Some translations of Ecclesiastes say, according to every activity, matter or intention. In other words, there is purpose in  both  dormancy and fruit for all things on earth. There is purpose even when the soil seems hardened to granite and difficult to water.

Last year and the first months of 2021 have been very difficult  because of Covid and the strange worldly kingdom of politics.  What we knew and acted upon is so different now it feels like we’ve been transplanted into foreign soil. It is unfamiliar, uncomfortable, dark and confusing. The ministry where God planted me has disappeared and truthfully, most days I wonder about His plans for me, my family and loved ones. Isn’t this the case even for the church, local and universal? Changes and adjustments have come  moment by moment, even as leadership continues to plant hope and water faith with the Word of God.  This season is for the Church of Jesus to remember that waiting precedes fulfillment.  Psalm 46 says to be still and know that He is God.   When we accept the dormancy of  the season God  ordains for us,  we trust Him and the eventual outcome. Isaiah says the waiting always produces fruit in God’s time.

But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31

To the Church, the Body of Christ: What if you did not fight the adverse conditions of this season? What if you  took God seriously at His Word and believed it is for such a time as this that God calls His own?  What if you  believed eagles will soar and  dead looking things have life.

You might well question, “Well, I‘m not soaring like an  eagle like right now. In this hardened season where God’s potted me, am I cactus or am I orchid?”   Yes!  The answer is God’s “Yes.”

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. John 10:27

This week I am thinking of my parents who have passed away. Their birthdays were two days apart in February, the 21^st and 23^rd. My  brother Pete’s birthday is on the 18th so there was always a big celebration  for the three on them in mid February.  (As an aside, Dan’s birthday is on the 13^th!) One year Pete turned 50, my mother 80 and my father 90, an admirable total of  220 years! The birthday photo my family’s happy faces above three candlelit cakes  is a treasure. 

I still miss my parents.   I miss seeing them in person but what causes a catch in my heart is that I can no longer hear their voices. Living far from New York most of my adult life, I often called them, especially when I was homesick. Their voices kept me connected to the family back east.   In my mind I can still hear my mother’s sensible, moderate intonations and my dad’s strong, butchered German-English. What I would give to hear them both again!

The easily recognized voice of a loved one is a special gift from God. I could never confuse Dan’s voice with any other another person’s nor he mine. Like fingerprints, our voices are unique;  so is the  ability to identify someone’s  voice and to differentiate among all the voices we hear. The brain is wired to discern pitch, timbre, inflection, language patterns, as well as individual words, pronunciations and, I believe, personality. There are lots of scientific explanations for  human  “voice recognition” which are beyond my scope. However,  I share one interesting fact. Our whole bodies are involved in our voice: lungs, ears, nose, throat, larynx, throat, vocal chords, etc. Then, when I hear you  my brain processes all the input in nanoseconds. “Oh, it’s my friend. Haven’t heard from her in a long time. “  How amazing is that? 

Science can describe the how but not the why.  It may describe the mechanics or the biology or postulate theories why humans are wired for voice recognition, but it cannot explain the cause other than with more theorizing. The answer is in Genesis 1:27.

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them;

If we’re made in the Creator’s image, it must follow that we share  something of what God is like. Thus, if He created us to speak with  natural  wiring to discern voices on earth, it is  because He first wired us to hear His Voice. That He has a Voice and speaks is evident from the Creation verses.  God spoke… and creation appeared. He has a Voice which our first parents could actually hear and recognize  for right after the fall Adam  tries to hide from it.

“I heard Your voice in the garden,” he replied, “and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid myself.”Genesis 3:10

The  consequence of sin was separation from the Holy God  which tragically meant man couldn’t approach God directly, see God without fear of perishing  or hear His Voice without being shattered. In Exodus 20 as Moses went up to God on Mount Horeb, the terrified people hid from God just as Adam and Eve had hidden themselves. Thunder and lightning, fire and smoke, trumpets and sounds from the heavens consumed the mountain and the people couldn’t bear the weight of God’s Voice. .

“Speak to us yourself and we will listen,” they said to Moses. “But do not let God speak to us, or we will die.”

In the centuries  before Jesus,  God’s Voice instilled terror  even in the chosen prophets who stood before to Him. Elijah was hidden in the cleft of a rock listening for God in the thunder and the earthquakes,  until He heard “a still, small Voice. The psalmists give an indication of Biblical Voice Recognition:

The voice of the LORD is over the waters; the God of glory thunders; the LORD is heard over many waters. The voice of the LORD is powerful; the voice of the LORD is majestic.…Psalm 29:3-4

On Sunday Pastor spoke about how to hear God’s Voice today because  God continually  speaks to His children throughout time. However, men have hardened hearts and deaf ears. Jesus testified to the hypocritical Pharisees  that He was sent to be God’s Word, His Voice.

And the Father who sent Me has Himself testified about Me. You have never heard His voice nor seen His form,  nor does His word abide in you, because you do not believe the One He sent.…John 5:37-38

 Jesus reconciled us to peace with the Father through His atonement so that we now can hear  God’s Voice directly again.  Jesus said that His sheep know His Voice and follow Him. But there is a caveat: we have to allow Him to be the Shepherd and choose be in Jesus’ sheepfold, listening to His voice and not to any other.  He speaks to us as Shepherd and King and God.  We’ll  know Jesus’ voice if we belong to Him.  Believers, listen for God’s Voice. You are empowered to hear Him, to differentiate God’s Voice through the Holy Spirit. Divine Voice Recognition has been  part of God’s plan from the beginning of time.

…then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.  Genesis 2:7

Today is Ash Wednesday which is the start of Lent, the forty days before Easter when Christians  traditionally prepare their hearts and minds  for Christ’s death and Resurrection.  The forty day period recalls Jesus’ forty days in the desert when he was a tempted by Satan  just as we all are.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are–yet he did not sin. Hebrews 4:15

 Lent is intended to be a season of repentance, prayer, self denial, mortification of the flesh (fasting) and what was once called “alms giving” to the poor.  It is a time for personal spiritual reflection and  seekig  God  more  seriously and intentionally than one does every day.  It may have originated as early as 325 with the Council of Nicea but certainly was already a part of very early Christian  practices.

On Ash Wednesday many people, particularly Catholics, attend church to receive a dab of cross shaped ashes on their foreheads.  (I just read that the Vatican has advised that ashes  be sprinkled on top of the head instead of smudged directly because of Covid.) When I was a girl, after confession the night before, I’d go with my parents for my dose of ashes and I can still remember the priest intoning in Latin: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  I wouldn’t wash my forehead for days!

Remember that you are dust. To dust you shall return.  What a sobering  description of humanity  without Jesus. Dust  returning to dust; ashes to ashes. Nothing but nothing remains. In fact it is the pithiest summation of Genesis 2:7 through Genesis 3: 19.  God created man  in His image and likeness   from the dust of the earth and breathed life into him. He created man to glorify Him as His special  creation, to be with Him, to know and love Him directly.  We were meant to be more than the physical matter we came out of.  Then came disobedience and the Fall of mankind.  God’s justice demanded the terrible  consequence.  We, the offspring of Adam,  would toil and sweat and finally, irrevocably  die.

By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Genesis 3:19

 However, God , our loving Father, did not abandon us . He knows  we are “with days like grass.”

…As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust. Psalm 103:13-14

God  provided the Perfect One, Jesus, to atone for our  sins and restore  us in righteousness to Himself. It is Jesus and only Jesus whose sacrifice  on the cross can save our souls.  Jesus claimed  “No one can come to the Father except through Me.” There is no other way out of the miry clay or the road to damnation.

Ash Wednesday is the great equalizer for all men and women: rich and poor, famous and forgotten, courageous and cowardly, believers and scoffers, the wise and the foolish.   No one gets  born into  this planet on his own, we come from dust  and all are subject to the grave. Life which comes from God leaves by God’s will. I believe that God spoke in the beginning to give life. I accept by faith that Jesus the Word came to redeem life here on earth and  eternally.  I seek the Holy Spirit to guide me in the journey home.  Thus, Ash Wednesday  points to the hope we  have in Jesus, in the cross,  in the empty tomb and to every promise the Lord has given. Without that  hope Ash Wednesday becomes meaningless,  the ashes on foreheads a foolish sign and we are no closer to salvation than the pagans.

For thus said the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling, Isaiah 30:15

Well, it’s still January and it’s still snowing. A week ago when the weather was a little milder,  my husband looked at blue sky and declared,” This winter is over!”  Au contraire, I said to myself. Remember last February when it snowed for almost a whole month? When I relayed Dan’s weather forecasting to daughter Laura, she was more blunt.  “ Oh, Dad says that every year.” Indeed, he does and indeed, it is still very much winter, officially ending on March 20 – still months away. The seasons don’t change because we want them to or because I want to get out in the garden or because  Dan as well as our friends and neighbors are weary of shoveling  snow.

A different perspective helps.  January as well as February invite us mountain residents to be patient, to enjoy our beautiful winter landscapes of snow laden trees and ice covered ponds steaming like heated kettles in the morning air and seriously  reflect on where we live and why we live here.  We bless  God for  His provision  and say a prayer of thanksgiving that He alone orders the times and the seasons. (I shudder to think what would happen if human technology  conrolled the  weather.)

In past years I’ve gone for a week long silent retreat to St. Gertrude’s Monastery in Cottonwood in this last week of January, precisely  during McCall’s Winter Carnival. I’ve gone  there with  many anxieties, fears,  questions and doubts filling up the suitcase of my brain. Seven days later, I’d return home refreshed and renewed. If not exactly empty, that suitcase didn’t drag me down any more.  I need  time by myself,  time to be still, to listen, pray and respond to God’s Word without interference. The most critical and difficult part of the retreat was keeping silence for an entire week. There were some exceptions to the requirement (community prayer and optional personal time with a  spiritual director),  but I found out how much the incessant noise of our families, communities and the world, as well as the church pollutes the soul. When noise gone, the silence is deafening and challenging.  It’s actually frightening because in true silence we are very much alone and exposed. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden after hearing the devil speak, when we lose the Beloved’s Voice, we  hide from the very thing our hearts long for: intimate conversation with our Father.

It’s no wonder we don’t hear God’s voice speaking to us.  It’s not God who isn’t doing His part. The Holy Spirit is always hovering nearby  speaking God’s Word  and drawing us to Christ. The fault is ours for not slowing down, not being quiet, i.e., incessantly talking or texting or twittering or googling whatever demands attention. We choose not to take mini vacations with the Lord. Long ago, the prophet admonished “that we are unwilling.” We like our worldly stuffed suitcases.

This year there are no retreats or visits to the monastery because of  COVID. Naturally, I miss going, but God did provide another way to for me take a mental and spiritual break- through our church Reset. I did not leave my home, but  instead spent very precious  time in my  secret place every day. I didn’t  go for long walks along the prairie or watch the sunrise infusing the vast,  unimpeded sky with tangerine light. But I walked the dog in the snow and watch snow falling like grace. Obviously, I couldn’t keep even one day’s silence with Dan because that would have been pretty selfish and weird. Nevertheless, I’ve experienced inner silence, refreshing  and peace almost daily for three weeks.  

In some ways, this Reset has been as life giving as a full week long retreat. I did not have to go away to hear God’s Voice. Just as His eye is always toward us, so are His whispers.  Prioritizing the Lord  is pretty basic” God 101″. All that’s required is willingness to listen and then obeying  what He speaks.   Show up for Him even if it’s January and you can’t get away. 

I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. John 14:6

For Christmas I bought a jig saw puzzle for Dan, for us to work on while my Salt Lake family was visiting. It was a 1,000 piece puzzle of Route 66, with vintage  cars and stops along the famous  old Highway. Dan, a hopelessly nostalgic car buff, gave its  history and stories about   driving Route 66  when he was young.  However, it was mostly my daughter and son-in-law who diligently worked on the puzzle. When they left, Dan and I were on our own to finish it. And finish we did. Almost.  Several pieces had dropped onto the carpet and two were chewed up by an unidentified dog, but we managed to find all of them  except for the very last piece, the exact beige color of our rugs. Whether it’s digested in the belly of a dog or still hidden on the floor, we gave up looking for the piece and called it good.

There’s now another puzzle on the table of the BSU Stadium  surrounded by  Boise landmarks.  It has less pieces but it is much harder. We haven’t gotten  far at all  because it’s that kind of puzzle:  seemingly not enough  edge pieces to finish the frame, no clear areas to work out,  and similar colors in the  details. It also has hundreds of tiny, cheering fans in the stands. Without the enclosed photo of the puzzle, I could not imagine what it looked like. Even with the picture, it’s  extremely challenging.  I don’t enjoy it when I can’t ever find pieces that fit. We’re at the point of letting it go and putting it away. (I’m thinking of giving it back to son Chris who is an avid Vandal fan! Enough said.)

The unfinished and scattered puzzle pieces taking up the dining room table remind me of what has been going on this last year and what is facing us in the future. Our once normal, every day lives which were recognizable and familiar have been taken apart, like a completed, no longer interesting or relevant jig saw puzzle.  There are mighty powers moving to discard our values, hopes, faith and dreams, pieces that don’t fit into different  picture.  Their goal is to send the Judaeo-Christian  (God’s) world view and its component pieces (us)  to the landfills as quickly as possible.  After tomorrow’s inauguration of a new administration, we’re  faced with a problematic.  There is no accompanying photo to show us what’s on the table. In 2020 (and long before) we’ve gotten pretty clear glimpses and can identify some of the violent, unrighteous and downright satanic things that are being fitted  together into a misshapen framework. Satan, the author of all this,  never plays fair and won’t show us what  tomorrow, never mind the next four years and beyond will bring. The puzzle pieces he’s laid out are fear, confusion,  anger, hatred, unforgiveness, indecision, worry and anxiety, persecution, sickness and death. His marching orders? Pick  up those jagged pieces. Force  them into life in front of you. Make them fit.

Sorry, Liar- Loser. We win!  That’s not the plan which God has had since the beginning of time. It is Christ crucified to be our everlasting victory.

So do not be afraid of them. For there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, and nothing hidden that will not be made known. Matthew 10:26

God’s got the Big Picture as well as all the pieces needed to bring about His purposes. He is working out “cosmic jig saw puzzles” all leading to revelation of the Love of the Son and His lordship over all creation. We are guided  through Scripture and the Holy Spirit to conform every missing piece of life to His. Revelation 19:21 describes Jesus at the end of time.

His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. He had a name written that no one knew except Himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and His name is The Word of God. Rev. 19:12

Jesus is not only the missing piece of the puzzle.  He is the only piece.

And it came to pass in these days, that he went out into the mountain to pray; and he continued all night in prayer to God. Luke 6:12

Our church is engaged in 21 Days of Prayer until the end of January as part of our twice  yearly spiritual Reset. It’s a time to reflect on how we pray, seek God for His mercy and grace to pray  and  then recalibrate  how to do so according to His will. And isn’t this  resetting  to fervent, unceasing prayer absolutely critical right now as the cultural and political landscapes around us disintegrate like  runaway locomotives  going off the rails? Our souls need to be still and know that He  who is God hears our hearts crying out to Him, for ourselves,  our loved ones and the soul of this nation.

Prayer calls us to dwell in  Psalm 91’s “secret place of the Most High,” beneath the shadow of His wings. It is God’s secret place where He draws us to Himself and then blesses us. It is the place where Jesus dwelt all His life.  The  Gospels  often describe Jesus praying,  how He  went to the mountain by Himself and spent entire nights in prayer.  There, away from the disciples and crowds, He was utterly alone with the Father.  I can only imagine the magnitude of His heart pouring out on the mountainside for those He’d come to save. I can hardly fathom the depth, breadth and height of the Father’s love  enveloping  His  beloved Son  in the darkness.

Jesus taught the necessity of praying alone in a personal, secret place where God already is.

But you, when you pray,go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward youopenly. Matthew 6:6

Most of the prayer warriors I know have  a secret place to shut the door, shut out distractions, listen for God’s Voice and pray. Mine is an upstairs room (which is usually freezing in January so I have a very warm blanket nearby as well as hot tea!) It is my cherished mountain spot to be alone with God. And yours?

Wanting to be alone with God is shockingly audacious  and should not be undertaken  mindlessly. What do I mean?  In my natural state,  I am never really alone because I am  always attached to people, places  or things. Like it or not, the world has a very strong grip on me. Sometimes like today, my husband is gone and I am “alone”, except my dog’s sitting under my feet, the neighbors stopped by and the phone rings. I look outside at the snow falling and marvel at God’s creation, uttering a quick and heartfelt praise heavenward. I am indeed by myself  today, but God’s secret place is not just the absence of worldly clutter. It is God’s Presence, a holy, divine, secret  realm into which I’m invited. My upstairs room is but  the introduction.

In the Bible when men found themselves alone in the presence  God (often as the angel of the Lord,) the experiences shattered them. Moses came down from the mountain in such a state of burning glory that his face had to be veiled. After his wrestling match, Jacob limped with a dislocated hip. Elijah endured hurricane and earthquake to hear God’s “still, small voice .” Isaiah’s lips were burned with a coal. The  prophet  was completely undone.  Paul was struck down, blinded and had a complete personality transplant as the Spirit of Jesus took hold of him. I don’t know of a single person in the Bible who was personally called into God’s Presence and then came away untouched, unchanged and even undamaged. Hebrews 10:31 says the “it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” He is still the same awe and fear inspiring God Almighty. It is this same God whom Jesus called Father and with whom He spent hours on the mountain. Love given and received on the mountain which Jesus  spent on the cross allows us now to approach God  as Jesus did.

To be alone with God is in prayer is more than dutifully spending 20-30 minutes of our busy time behind closed doors.  It is to encounter the Father’s Holiness, Christ’s transforming Love and the Holy Spirit’s power. Alone with God He will  strip us naked exactly as we are in our skin, expose our hearts, destroy illusions and overwhelm us. It will leave us with nothing but knowing God .  

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

The Hebrew word  rapha which is translated as still actually means to give up, specifically  to surrender. When we enter  God’s secret place, we will not  know Him until everything  and everyone is stripped away and surrendered to Christ’s lordship.  Drastically, utterly  alone in all but  Him,  we then have everything.