Showing posts with label Sunday Afternoon Tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday Afternoon Tea. Show all posts

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - Finding peace in the kitchen


There was a day last week when it seemed the rain was unending.  As I looked out my kitchen window, the weeds were growing higher than the grass and a gloom seemed to cover the land.  For rain, when it is needed, creates a cozy atmosphere but one can have too much of a good thing.

I was weary and not a little... edgy.  I longed for a warm and sunny day with a breeze coming in through the open window.  However, since the forecast was for chilly and wet for the next few days, I decided to do something creative.  I baked a Bundt cake and set aside part of it to take to the friend who gave me the recipe many years ago when we were neighbors.

There is something about the precision required in baking that takes my mind off of the unpleasant side of life.  As I blend together the butter and sugar in the mixer, as I scoop flour and swipe a knife over the measuring cup to smooth it out, as I chop the apple for the cake and measure the cocoa, as I spray the pan with coconut oil to make certain it doesn't stick... the alchemy of baking takes me to another place.

As I was baking, it reminded me of two other women I knew who found their peace in the kitchen.

I was just talking to my sister recently about memories of her mother-in-law.  For I can't think of her without remembering what it was like to walk through the back door of that house in the country, with its' view of the river in front and the forest in the back, without thinking of the food which came out of that tiny kitchen.  Especially the baking...

My sister and her husband built a house next to her in-laws (and whether that is wise is a subject of debate but I digress) so many of my childhood memories are of the family gathering at my sister's place and eventually making our way to her mother-in-law's kitchen where she and my mother would chat while delicious aromas surrounded the conversation.

Every Christmas, one of our favorite gifts was the tin of candy and cookies she made as gifts for close friends and family.  For every bite was as delicious as anything made by the finest confectioners in Europe.  It is probably a good thing I didn't develop Juvenile Diabetes until middle age, long after she had gone on to her reward.  For I doubt there would have been any way to overcome temptation.

I didn't know it then but as I got older, I learned more about her and the unhappy circumstances of her life.  It explained a lot about her personality.  I also came to realize she found freedom and peace in that alchemy of baking, in the chopping of vegetables for soup, in the way familiar recipes made for family throughout the years gave comfort.  Not only to them but also to her.

The other woman I knew who found some peace in cooking and baking was my own mother-in-law.  Whenever I think of her, it is in her galley kitchen with a cigarette nearby as she was preparing a meal.  We didn't have much in common except cooking.  Like my sister's mother-in-law, her disappointments in life as well as tragedies affected her personality and at times I found her... difficult.  However, she showed love in the way she created magic with the simplest of ingredients.

Many of the recipe cards which have a home in the vintage card holder in my kitchen came from her.  Over the years, we shared many recipes and a few cookbooks.  I realize now that it was her way of reaching out when at times, she didn't know how.  Every meal at her home was simple but delicious.

I doubt either woman associated food with God.  I do.  I truly believe the way we find peace in the chopping and stirring and mixing and thinking of new ways to use ingredients is part of our original assignment to... create.  These women did not see themselves as artists by any means.  But I do.  For one can be an artist with sugar, flour, and butter just as much as when one mixes watercolors for a painting.

Except our canvas is a table and our art disappears in a matter of minutes.  Not unlike sandcastles at the beach.  Things of beauty to be enjoyed for the moment.  A way to share.  A way to show love.  Perhaps that is why we take photos of food.  Instinctively, we know it is Art... whether a gourmet feast or the simplest meal of a fried egg on fresh asparagus.

I have heard that the kitchen is the heart of the home.  Perhaps in many ways, it also functions as an altar.  For it is where many of us meet with God.  Where we pray. Where... in the very process of cooking and baking... we who are created in the image of the Creator... using the products of His earth... create.

Image:  Fresh Bred by Loren Entz

The Bundt cake recipe can be found... here.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - Does God Give Us More than We Can Handle


I have written about the year we lived in a house by the pond.  The year of unemployment and great trials.  The year I had to remind myself to breath.  I can't tell you how many times I went to sleep at night telling God that if He wanted to take me before the morning that was just fine with me.

I have heard for years, no decades, that God does not give us anything more than we can handle.  To be honest, that saying always made me think I must not be a very good Christian for there were many trials which were far more demanding than I could handle.  Those which felt like heavy burdens crushing my faith to the floor.

Not a trial such as I had last week when I went on a local journey to have insulin after taking my last shot.  No, I'm talking about the trials which run on for weeks and months and even years.  When we understand why God tells us to "faint not" so many times in Scripture.

I have now been a Christian since oh, 1970-ish, and I'm learning that some truisms we hear are Truth and others may as well be from a book by Benjamin Franklin.  We have heard them so many times we think they must be true and after all, teachers are quoting Scripture.  However, have we looked closely at the context?

A few years ago I heard a teaching which set me free from the burden of it all.  Why I didn't realize it before was beyond my comprehension.  When a message came... whether on television or in a book, I can't recall... that what was most often preached about 1 Corinthians 10:13 was not necessarily God's Truth.

For you see, if you look at the verse in context what Paul is saying is actually this... God does not give you anything you cannot handle with HimWe whom God calls "but dust" really do fall apart and shatter under enormous burdens of trials and temptations if we tried to walk through them in our own strength.

I thought back to that year by the pond and recalled the hours upon hours spent sitting on the small cement stairs in the front of the house.  With a view to the man made pond.  Surrounded mostly by forest.  That year was the reason my Bible opens to Psalms without trying.  To this day.  Well over a decade later.

As each day seemed to bring a trial that I could not handle, I ran to His presence.  I waited upon Him each day... Bible open and ready to listen.  He met me there on those stairs and as I walked the beach of Lake Michigan and as I hiked the forest trails with my (then) young son.  I absorbed Him as if my very life depended upon it.  For it did.

I had gone through trials previously but this was the first time I felt so alone, away from friends and extended family, with no sense whatsoever of where we would end up and how we would get there from here. I was completely unteathered to everything and everyone except my husband, son, and two old kitties.

That was the year of great pain but also amazing miracles.  When I will "tell the old, old Story" in Eternity... the story will definitely include that year.  When people tell me there is no God, I can say that I have a Story that proves He indeed does exist and that He cares about me and mine.

For that Bible verse does not say He never gives us anything we cannot handle.  Indeed it is inferring He allows everything we cannot handle.  Not without Him giving us a means of escaping each fiery dart the evil one sends our way.  The joy of the Lord is my strength!

Of course, He knows we cannot handle very much adversity in this earthly vessel which He describes as everyday pottery.  We are becoming fine china and that is only accomplished in the hottest of kilns... with an Artist watching closely that the carefully designed piece of art does not shatter with too much heat amidst the fire.

I often say to family and friends... perhaps more than they care to hear... that I cannot possibly imagine living in today's world without knowing the Lord.  Without the presence of the Holy Spirit not just around me but in me.  I have learned through experience to give Him the "what ifs" of life.  For the Word tells me that no matter what happens, He is not off in another galaxy with no thought of this planet.  On the contrary, he notices when a sparrow falls to the ground.

This is why in the Book of James, we are told to rejoice in trials for they are proving our faith.  I can't say I have learned to rejoice in them, yet.  However, I do know when God is allowing something extremely uncomfortable and frustrating in my life... to pay attention for He is looking for my response.  Will I tremble in fear or trust Him?

I've done both.  I've lost sleep at night worrying but thankfully those times have become less and less through the years.  I visually see myself taking the trial and setting it at His feet in the Throne Room and then try not to take it back.

There is an old saying that is Truth... "If you can't trust His works then trust His character".   For He is Love and He does love you.

As you draw near to Him and listen for what He wants you to learn in these trials, you will find that peace that passes all understanding as the very Creator of the universe makes you to be strong enough to run your race and reach the end of your journey hearing those longed for words, "Well done good and faithful servant".  Not with your own human strength but with His.

Image:  Nostalgia-Mini by Clement Micarelli

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - Learning from Lark Rise


There is a scene in the final episode of Lark Rise to Candleford when Queenie is looking out upon the horizon and sees, not her beloved Lark Rise as she knows it... but smoke stacks and factories covering the land.  She understands that she has been shown what is coming in the not too distant future.  She knows there is no stopping it.

I thought of the Lark Rise series this past week and the nonfiction books upon which it was based.  For there came a knock at our front door one day and my husband walked out to talk to the visitor.  (We must do so with a house cat who thinks it would be lovely to escape to the forest.)  He came back inside after about five minutes and said I should talk to our neighbor, for he didn't have the answer she needed.

As it turned out, the woman lived on the road that leads to the Bypass and was looking for the owners of a cat which was allowed to run free and causing problems in her yard.  Thankfully, I could assure her our very petite cat not only stayed inside but would run from any threat to her furry person. There were also no kitties by that description who made their way through my backyard recently.

Somehow, the conversation drifted from cats to the land around us.  She had returned permanently to the area about the same time we came back.  We talked about the changes and how each would visit "back home" and not recognize the place.  Where there were fields and family farms, now there were subdivisions and traffic.

She grew up in the house where she now lives so she knew the history of the area. At one time this was a very small town, no bigger than Lark Rise.  Just down the road, where a new house sits, there once was a blacksmith shop for the town. For even in a very small place, one needed a blacksmith when horses were the main form of transportation. Not all that long ago, really.

I lived my early childhood years in such a very small rural "town" that consisted of some houses and a grain elevator where the train would stop to pick up train cars filled with corn on its' way to the City.  The last time I drove through the area, it was still mainly a grain elevator and a few houses.  Although the old farm we lived in was no longer there. However, unlike the neighborhood where I currently live, it still retains its' name and a minuscule place on the map. 

It makes me wonder how a place existed and then it didn't. How a town on a map can just disappear? Although... maybe I do understand.  For my front porch guest also found out, quite by accident, that in the area's 10-20 Plan (of which I had no idea it existed), our land is scheduled to become part of a new highway. Someday.  Most likely after I'm gone but within the reach of her lifetime.

Like Queenie, I can see what is coming.  Not from some sort of supernatural vision but from the front pages of our newspaper.  It is all about progress and transportation and getting people from one place to another as fast as possible.  But what about the farms and the forests and the wetlands where the sandhill cranes stop on their migration?  Already I miss the Canadian geese flying over as they migrate.  One hardly hears them these past few years and at one time they were the sounds of Autumn.

I wonder if we are a people on the verge of a national nervous breakdown because we have lost our connection to the way God intended us to live?  In our rush to the large cities... and in trying to become one... we no longer hear the echoes of Eden. 

I know we live in a most fallen of worlds.  I am aware of the imperfections of life.  For also on this land, before the tiny town existed, this was the home of a great Native American nation.  I also grew up playing on the very ground where great battles took place.  One of the "Trail of Tears" goes through this land.  We have been far from Eden for millenia. 

But is it truly progress to live in our cars and spend our days looking at a screen?  Are we moving so fast as a society that our soul can no longer keep up with the speed of life?  I don't think it can be stopped for what we are seeing is a symptom rather than the cause.  But I can slow down my life and make choices to step back... a little here and a little there.

I slow down when I sip that first cup of coffee in the morning.  I slow down when I chop vegetables and make soup from scratch instead of opening a can.  I slow down when I must wash dishes by hand so I enjoy the aroma as Mrs. Meyer's Peony scent fills the sink as the hot water hits the soap.  I slow down when I polish the thrift store silver service or rub lemon oil into the antique furniture.

I slow down when I plant a flower or herbs on the deck. I slow down when I choose to read a book instead of turning on the television.  I slow down when I sweep the kitchen floor.  I slow down when I open the window to the Study and actually listen to the birdsong coming through from the forest.  How long has it been since you have enjoyed a free concert?

There will be no perfect days or perfect place until this world has been restored.  However, we can accept what is good and hold it to us each day.  Not longing for the good old days but instead grasping to us what is precious about today.  Taking the time to really slow down and notice our journey on earth.  This is not a dress rehearsal.  This is life.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - A Life in Books

These past few weeks, coinciding with what appears to be an unexpected Midwestern monsoon season, I've been spending my free reading time submerged in the England of post WW1 to post WW2, in the midst of the Eliot family.  I've lived at Damerosehay, The Herb of Grace, and the drafty old Vicarage... and I'm the better person for it.

You have heard the old adage that "you are what you eat", well I believe just as true is the statement, "you are what you read".  Especially the kind of books you feed on the earliest and the most over the years.  I am convinced my love of detective and murder mysteries has nothing to do with a dark side of my personality (although some may wonder) but instead that the first book love I can remember were the Nancy Drew books I read over and over until each plot was memorized.

I understood this even as a young mother and when most educators were telling me that it didn't matter what my child read... as long as they were reading... I didn't agree at all.  While not a helicopter mother in reality (much), I was when it came to the books my children read.  I understood how they formed your thinking when young so what came into our home to be read had to have my approval... with the child having more freedom to choose their own books as they grew older.

This proved a challenge with my very prolific reading daughter who, like her mother, thought an hour in a bookstore or the library to be just the best of time spent.  However, I was happy to keep my literary ear to the ground, always in search of the best of books for her. She introduced me to the Anne books.

It was easier with my son who, as a young boy, preferred nonfiction books with lots of pictures of machines, animals, and tornadoes (no, really... he went through a weather stage).  They instilled a love of books as much as my daughter's chapter books she read.  When he was older, he came to love great French literature that I had only heard of when I saw the movies.

The books my children read and we enjoyed as a family became part of our vocabulary and I think even our heritage.  For instance, Dad will always be known as Puddleglum (by his own admission) and if we say "Aslan is on the move", we all know the meaning.

My daughter and I searched for Pooh sticks when living in Holland, Michigan. We want our hospitality to be equal to Mole or Mrs. Beaver.  I think my husband can still recite the entire book of Good Night Moon from memory, as I could (at one time) I Am A Bunny.  Baby books.  Children's books.  Classics read at bedtime.  Memories of an entire lifetime.

I didn't read carefully in my twenties.  Oh, I'm not talking about smutty books for I didn't read them.  But I did belong to the Harlequin Book Club where I received a box of paperbacks each month.  They were just silly romances that I could go through like potato chips but I began to feel God's tugging that they were not the best books for me to read.  I don't know how they are now but in the 70s, they were the equivalent of literary junk food.

I wasn't raised in a home of readers so I didn't have much information growing up about great literature.  I remember hearing of Jane Austen the first time in my Junior year of high school, taking an English Lit class.  We read Pride & Prejudice and it was definitely love at first read.

I noticed what my Christian mentors were reading... both in real life and in their books... and began reading what they did. Some theology books may have been beyond my grasp but I read what I could and learned what Bible teachers I could understand.  I also devoured books about books by authors whose taste I could trust. 

I'm thankful that there were very good books that came my way in my teens such as The Robe and The Silver Chalice from which popular movies had been made.  They helped give me a mental picture of Bible days in the way Exodus by Leon Uris helped me understand the relationship between the Holocaust and the founding of Israel just a few years later.

Good books make us feel like we are actually living in the pages.

As a working mother, most of the reading was nonfiction books by my favorite authors such as Edith Schaeffer, Emily Barnes, and Anne Ortlund.  I also loved books about corporations and corporate life.  Loved them!  So when I stood in Muir Woods one Saturday afternoon on a business trip to San Francisco and I knew God was telling me it was time to leave my job... it had to be a God thing to do it (albeit it took a year and a change of circumstances in my corporation).

I say that as a reminder that we can often tell our passion, our gifting so to speak, by what we are drawn to read.  On my book shelves already were books about homemaking, decorating, early childhood development, cooking (that may be considered an obsession rather than an interest), and being a godly woman in the current society.  However, I held on to my books about corporations for a good ten years.  Especially my favorites.  For the way organizations worked was an interest even if I didn't get paid for it, anymore.

Then there were the years when we chose to homeschool our son.  Any bibliophile homeschooler (and most are by default) will tell you that while you value your child's education, it is also a really good excuse to buy books.  Some of my all time favorite books were written by other homeschooling mothers and fathers and the books we read for learning were interesting.  That was when I first read many childhood classics.

I eventually developed more of an affection for good fiction.  From the James Herriot books to the Jan Karon Mitford books to the Miss Read books to Elizabeth Goudge and D. E. Stevenson.  All authors recommended by bookish friends.  A lesson learned over the years is if I find one book by an author I thoroughly enjoyed, then I'll read more by the same author.

Some of the fiction books are classics while others are light fiction, meant to take me away to a more innocent place or time.  Some are old friends that have been read many times while others are sitting on the shelf just waiting for their turn to be enjoyed.

For I have found over the years that quite often I am drawn to a book and when I have the opportunity to purchase it, I do so and then give it a home on my bookshelves.  Then... quite often... there comes a time when I'm looking through my books and there it is... at just the exact time I need that particular book.

I needed to reread The Bird in the Tree, Pilgrim's Inn (titled The Herb of Grace in England), and The Heart of the Family these past few weeks.  Finally reading them in the order they were published, not only did I enjoy spending time again with the Eliot family but the lessons they were learning were much what I needed in the 21st Century.

That is what great books do you know.  They invite us in and then while we are enjoying their story, we are learning about character and integrity and courage and patience and often how to live life with faith.  That is why I am careful about the authors I choose to read for their worldview comes through their stories and when well done... they tell a tale that makes me a better person for reading their work.

Image: Time For Reading by Judy Gibson

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - The Lovely that Remains


I have spent a lot of time recently viewing the dogwood tree through the kitchen window.  Each year it takes my breath away as the white blossoms appear to glow in the dark.  Even yesterday in the midst of very heavy rainfall and high winds, the dogwood was standing strong and lovely. 

I was quickly washing dishes as a storm approached (I came within seconds of having my hands in soapy water when the house was hit by lightening before!), washing and rinsing and gazing all at the same time.  The county was under a warning and I knew I must hurry if I wanted the kitchen clean before heading to the sofa to read but the Beauty of that tree was quite distracting.

Now I must admit, the tree is no longer as lovely as it once was for the men from the rural electric co-op came through a few years ago and cut off branches near the power lines.  (The photo above is not my tree.)  Although we begged them to be careful (as did our "across the fence" neighbor who can view the tree from his house), they took off enough that the tree appears lopsided.  We were not amused.

However, each spring since then I choose to look at the lovely that remains.  For in that lopsided tree is a lesson I must continually learn... often I have to look past that which is imperfect and settle my gaze on the Beauty that remains.

Normally I'm a very hopeful person and I look to see God's presence in every situation and every "thing".  Even when the snow is on the ground and the wind is blowing icy on my face as I walk down the gravel road to get the mail, I look at the pop of red in the midst of white which is my neighbor's barn.  If the snow is fresh, I stop (after pulling the hood of my down coat over my ears) and view the silent forest covered in pure white, the trees creating sculptures with their lack of foliage.  Beautiful...

However, there are seasons when I struggle with grasping that which is lovely even when it is all around me.  Sometimes there is a reason and I don't try to push the joy in a time of sorrow.  For instance, this past Christmas was wrapped in deep grief after my beloved Victoria died suddenly.  I love Christmas so I decorated as usual and listened to music and watched Christmas movies and did some baking... but I did not force joy.  No, there is a time for joy and a time for grief and they do not always coexist.

As the months have progressed since that time, I found myself increasingly sad and even those things which usually bring delight appeared dimmer than usual.  For instance, I usually bring in almost every daffodil blooming on the property and place them in a vase to enjoy.  This year I only made two bouquets and left the rest where they grew.  They were just as lovely but I didn't feel the joy I usually do as I view them in the cut glass vase.

I noticed the same thing as the crab apple bloomed next to the garage.  Its' scent was wonderful and the blossoms were such a pretty color but what I noticed most this year was that the crab apple is slowly dying and soon must be cut down.  At least it is not a threat to the house as is the black walnut tree in the backyard which is also living it its' final years.

While Victoria's death affected the Christmas season, I realized that was just part of what was making me feel so sad.  Adopting Florentine has helped a great deal and while she will never replace Victoria, she has made her own place in our heart with her kittenish antics.  No... I think Victoria's death just pushed me over the edge of something that had been coming on for at least a year.

The human heart can only take in so much darkness before it dims the eyes of how we view the world.  The presidential election was brutal and as a conservative Christian, I had never felt so much hate before.  I still receive comments from time to time here on the blog but I don't publish them.  There is a certain cleansing in the ability to push a delete button.

I have mentioned already having to un-follow people on Facebook and Instagram... some of them people that I have followed and enjoyed reading for years. I even had to remove a few blog links from the sidebar when people I had been able to find agreement with in areas of life such as gardening, whole foods, homeschooling, etc. began to delve into social and political rants.

The world news was just as bad and there was not a day that went by in which it seemed some atrocity was committed and announced on the 24 hour news cycle.  There was just as much anger in the world as there was here at home.  More in those parts of the world where terrorism and war was already raging.

I came to realize that I was world-weary and tired. I was tired of counting pennies at the grocery store while I watched people who make a living pretending to be someone else (aka: actors) getting paid millions and complaining about their life.  I was tired of decorating shows on HGTV with sniveling people who would not buy a house because the kitchen was thirty years old. I was tired of politicians (all of them by this point), and tired of pastors who did not believe the Bible, and tired of this rainy spring, and tired of... life the way it is in a fallen world.

Thankfully, I have enough of a sanguine personality that I don't feel comfortable living with gloom. It brings me down not only emotionally but physically.  I live with Puddleglum so one of us has to be optimistic.  So I began to look for the lovely in situations where it was possible and slowly found the sadness lifting.

I also had to be realistic that some of us feel tired because we are tired.  I remind my husband once in awhile that there is a reason they send young men to war.  The  younger one is, the physically stronger one is, the more likely one feels fearless and charges ahead into the unknown. 

We also have something else that carries us along... or should I say Someone.  The verse which constantly nudged at me these past few months was, "Greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world" (1 John 4:4). 

If I feel uncomfortable in this world, it is because this is not my permanent Home.  I think I've never understood that as I have these past couple of years.  I will continue to look for all that is lovely in the midst of the darkness and do that which He asks me to do in this world but realizing all the time that nothing is ever going to be perfect.  We grasp the good we can find in the imperfection.

Like my lopsided dogwood tree, it is just as lovely as it always was if I focus my eyes on that which is left and not wish for what is missing.  Perhaps that lesson alone is why God allowed rural electric men with chainsaws to invade my backyard.  I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Image:  Not my dogwood tree but one that shows what it used to look like.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - When the World Seems Crazy


Recently I needed to run quite a few errands, taking me from my home in the northern part of the county to the far southern part of town and back.  I decided the only way I could accomplish this feat and be home at a reasonable time was to take the new By-Pass.  A road for which I've had a challenged relationship since it opened.

By taking the new By-Pass, I would cut my travel time by at least half.  However, I've become lost taking it twice and the last time I was really lost. I mean, out in the middle of country roads lost.  As it turned out, my husband had missed a turn at the same place and told me where I went wrong.  Let's just say whoever put the traffic signs up should have been more specific.

So to save time, I decided to take the new road.  After all, it would be good to stop avoiding it.  Along the way I saw familiar places in the distance.  When I crossed a bridge over the river and then saw a turn off for a familiar road, I could envision the house where my sister once lived not too far away.  It was like finding a "You Are Here' sign at the Mall.  I could envision a birds eye view of where I was from my house, from Bonnie's old house, the river, and if I took the correct turn... my destination.

Once I had a good idea where I was, I figured out I probably should stay in the left lane so I didn't miss that important turn off... yet, again.  Then I had time to enjoy the scenery and ponder.  Since it is a new road, there are no fast food signs, businesses, or entrances into factories.  Instead one mostly passed by fields and forests with the occasional glimpse of the airport or a smokestack in the distance for a few miles.

I'm pleased to say after (finally) turning on the correct road... you know, the one with the misleading sign... I realized the road I was now on was exactly where I needed to be.  The first stop in my errand was just a couple streets away.  What is more, the next time I take that By-Pass, I won't be quite so apprehensive. Now that I know where the signs lead me.

Sometimes the changes in our world leave me as confused as that misleading sign.  Instead of being where I planned, I'm lost in some outer part of Today where little looks as I once knew it.  It's the same place in which I grew up but not the same world... and realizing that can make me tense and uncertain.

Oh, I'm not talking about Russian planes close to Alaska.  It is just a reminder of the Cold War and those of us above a certain age grew up with news reports of Russia vs. America.  My much older brother fought in the Korean war so that battle has been raging for decades.  Albeit a whole lot more dangerous with nukes involved.

No, it is not even the wars and rumors of wars that are getting to me.  It is the change in morality and what the church looks like.  How those of us who take a more orthodox view of the Bible are deemed haters and if we are all for immigration but want people coming into the country to be vetted (as they always were), we do not care for homeless children in Syria.

We have let ourselves be defined by those who control the media but hate the church... and unfortunately sometimes it is even people within the church that throw stones at us. If one only knows a picture of the world by what they see on TV, in movies, or on social media...

The world seems to have lost its ever loving mind.

Recently I was reading through Romans 1:28-32 in the NIV but the Phillips translation (I believe that is what Elisabeth Elliot used) says it best... 

Moreover, since they considered themselves too high and mighty to acknowledge God, he allowed them to become the slaves of their degenerate minds, and to perform unmentionable deeds. They became filled with wickedness, rottenness, greed and malice; their minds became steeped in envy, murder, quarrelsomeness, deceitfulness and spite. 

They became whisperers-behind-doors, stabbers-in-the-back, God-haters; they overflowed with insolent pride and boastfulness, and their minds teemed with diabolical invention. They scoffed at duty to parents, they mocked at learning, recognized no obligations of honor, lost all natural affection, and had no use for mercy. 

More than this—being well aware of God’s pronouncement that all who do these things deserve to die, they not only continued their own practises, but did not hesitate to give their thorough approval to others who did the same.

Reading these verses brought me peace.  Ummm... those verses?  The verses where we are told the world is going to go crazy?  Yes!  Because it means that... at this time and at this place... where God allowed you and me to be born... He knew it was going to go crazy.

For you see my friends, we are not to look at the past with longing.  Actually, there were plenty of trials back then even when morality was more the norm and the average person at least respected the Ten Commandments.  We are to look forward for this is the day for which we were created.

Whatever gifts  you have been given, no matter how young or how old you are, you were born "for such a time as this".  We are just passing through, we are pilgrims and sojourners in this land.  We are, like Abraham, searching for the City whose Builder and Maker is God.

We are not to long for this world to be perfect, we are to long for that Perfection which is to come.  

What are we to do now?  Well, on one hand we are to stand by our orthodox values and not give in to what people want to manipulate us to believe just so people will like us.  At the same time, we are to walk like Jesus walk... in love and not anger.

I know it is a balance remaining true to the Word in our beliefs but always defaulting to walking in Love.  It has been done before and the One who managed to do it was stoned and crucified by those people for whom He gave so much love. 

But He has given you a Place in this world, not only gifts but a real PLACE.  Where you are living right this very moment.  Draw near to Jesus and then ask how to show Him to this crazy messed up world.  It will take every skill, every talent, every bit of wisdom and grace you have.  Even then you will have to renew your strength every morning by spending time with Him and His Word.

Oh, I also suggest the occasional nap and perhaps coffee first thing in the morning.  Just saying.  Reality you know.

Image:  Cotswolds Evening by Robert Duncan

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Sunday Afternoon Tea - Easter and Peace


I have always loved Easter, from the time I was a little girl getting a new dress (which included a hat and white gloves by the way) to today as I get ready to pop a ham in the oven for our mid-day celebration... expecting my youngest granddaughter as a very special guest.

There is such a homey aroma coming from the kitchen as a ham bakes.  If you have ever put a house up for sale, your Realtor may have advised you to either bake cookies just before showings or to put a ham in the oven to slowly bake.  There is a reason for that...

I wrote last week about the practical ways I have been perusing peace in a time of wars and rumors of wars.  Today I'd like to share the more "spiritual" attempts to find peace.  By "spiritual" I mean Jesus and not the Oprah brand of spirituality. How appropriate that this post would be written on Easter Sunday, the day of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

First and always foremost... Peace is a Person.  The Lamb of God, who was born to die as a replacement for us on that cross.  Only He who knew no sin could stand in for those of us who are sons and daughters of the fallen Adam.  He took back the Keys to the Kingdom and overcame death once and for all.

Without Easter there is no true Christianity.  Everything hinged on that first Easter when the stone was rolled away.  If Jesus had not been raised from the dead, he would have been no different than any other religious leader.  There would have been a tomb where one could pay their respect.  Instead it is empty and we give our worship.

I don't have any problem calling the day of His Resurrection Easter Sunday.  For words only have the meaning one assigns and I believe the word Easter is lovely.  When our kids were young, we did the whole Easter basket thing but then again, I have enough of my grandmother's Irish blood in me that I love the idea of rabbits who bring chocolate, mice who live in tree stumps and wear pinafores, and that Mrs. Beaver is a role model for showing hospitality.

If one knows the Real Thing, then the little extras like chocolate bunnies and colored eggs can never take away from what is important... Who is important.  Not as long as our children grow up knowing that the true meaning of Easter is not candy but that Jesus arose from the grave so we can live with Him after our journey here is finished.  
 
When I need peace.. I usually open the Psalms.  When the days seem long and my patience is short and fear is present... I always open to the Psalms.  There is just something about the Songbook of the Hebrews that brings peace.  The Bible I've used for twenty-plus years opens to the Psalms without trying.

Something else I've been doing lately is to seek wisdom from those who have gone before me... those men and women of God who have passed through wars and rumors of wars and adversity... and remained true to their Lord.  I don't have a written plan as such but I've been allowing myself the luxury of looking through my bookshelves until I find the mentor I need at the moment.

I'll talk more about specifics on my next Book Talk post but it has been good to brush the dust off of some books where I've found wisdom before.  I know some people turn to podcasts or online articles but I'm a bookish sort who loves reading a book that shows chocolate stains of where I read it while snacking one afternoon or water marks splashed from a long ago hot bath such as my old copy of Hidden Art.

I've been sending up a lot of short prayers throughout the day that keep me anchored to Peace Himself.  Sometimes I'll just say the name of Jesus to remind myself it is all about Him. I am finding it necessary to make a quick connection throughout the day as well as longer times of prayer.

For you see, you don't get His peace from hoping for it. You get that peace as He gives it to you when you spend time with Him.  That's why it is described as peace that passes all understanding.  It is how you can go to bed at night thinking you can't make it through another day and be honest with Him about how you feel because He knows all about it, anyway.

Then you awake the next morning and are amazed that you are full of peace and faith and courage to meet another day.  It wasn't you, other than asking Him for these things... that renewal you feel is all Him.  His mercies are new every morning. 

Just as He breathed life into Adam... He breathes new life into you.  Every day.  New hope.  New faith.  New mercies.

Happy Easter!