It’s the last of December 2008, a time to look back and reflect.

God’s been so good this past year to me; His goodness next year I’ll expect.

 

It hasn’t been easy, this year of O eight, illness and death crossed our way.

Each a reminder to each of us now, to live in His way day by day.

 

We lost some saints, Brother Pat and Mrs. Jane, Mr. Eldridge and Mrs. Jane Doss.

We miss them so often and wish they were here, but know Heaven’s gain is our loss.

 

We’ve also shared victories, one after another; miracles only God could have done;

Mrs. Sadie, Mrs. Pat, Nihlia, and more, the list could go on and go on.

 

We prayed for employment; Chester, Ricky, and John, knowing that God had a plan.

They steadied their paths, trusted in God and their needs were met by God’s hand.

 

We’ve heard sermons and lessons, the best, yes, bar none, each one coming straight from the Lord.

If we listen and follow and keep trusting in God, we’ll be fit for a Heavenly  reward.

 

So what made the difference in church and at home, God’s love focused on each of us?

Brothers and sisters each week on their knees, searching, praying, and learning to trust.

 

Folks who touch Heaven, there can be no doubt, for God knows their voices and proclaims,

Ask and believe, be sincere in your trust, and my promises you then can claim.

 

God called us together to pray for our Pastor, but the reward has been greater, we’ve seen,

The great hand of God moving in a great way, we know nothing with God is routine.

 

Looking ahead now in two thousand nine the walk though unknown will be great,

Delve deep in His word, depend on His grace, stay on the path – narrow and straight.

 

And finally this ends, my family and friends with a thank you to each one and all,

Let’s stand steadfast together, uplifting each other as we diligently answer God’s call.

 

Wishing you each a Happy and Blessed New Year.

Heresy!!  How could I even suggest that?!

It’s that time of the year when I begin to hear the assorted ways of wishing someone a “Merry Christmas.”  People have become afraid to say “Merry Christmas” and settle for Happy Holidays; there is nothing wrong with that, except we have been conditioned that saying Merry Christmas is politically incorrect.  So, now we hear the frequent addendum, “Jesus is the Reason for the Season.”   

Well, folks, Jesus is not the reason for the Christmas season!  He is the reason for every season.

In January, we start a new year.  The whole year ahead of us is a blank canvas on which we will paint the story of the year.  Jesus is the reason for that season.  With Him we begin anew.  The canvas is whiter than snow and we begin to allow Him to paint the picture of our lives.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In February, we celebrate love.  Valentines, flowers, and candy acknowledge the love we have for each other.  Jesus is the reason for that season.  He loves us with an unconditional love.   He loved us so unselfishly that He was willing to suffer and give His life to save ours.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In March, the snow begins to melt.  Through the hard, cold ground we see beautiful flowers break the surface of the ground to bring us joy and beauty.  Jesus is the reason for that season.   Through Him, a stone hard heart can be melted and transformed to blossom and grow.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In April, we experience those spring showers that water the wildflowers and clean up the residue of winter.  Jesus is the reason for that season.   His love overwhelms us and the tears wash away all the ugly and the dirty in our hearts so that we may be an example to those around us of His amazing love.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In May, those April showers now produce May flowers.  And the world is more beautiful as a result.  Jesus is the reason for that season.  Through a process of God’s unconditional love for us, transforming and renewing our lives, we grow and produce “good fruit” that glorify Him.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In June, we see the hand of love again as lovers marry and begin a life together.  Jesus is the reason for that season.  As He prepares us to be His bride, we grow more in love with Him and that love spills over to all those around us.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In July, we celebrate our great country’s independence.  Jesus is the reason for that season.   For there is no greater freedom than that we are freed from the grips of sin and hell.  Jesus provides glorious freedom, wonderful freedom!  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In August and September, children return to school.  Adults often begin post secondary educations.  Jesus is the reason for that season.   Through personal Bible study and the fellowship of the church and the lessons taught in Sunday School classes – worldwide, we grow in wisdom and in knowledge.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In October, the leaves change.  That which is no longer needed fall away to the ground.   Jesus is the reason for that season.   As we grow in grace, He prunes away the parts of our lives that we no longer need – in order to remove that which hinders us, and to make us grow stronger.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

In November, we celebrate a time of giving thanks.  We recognize that bountiful harvest and share with each other with thanks to our Heavenly Father.  Jesus is the reason for that season.   Every day is a thanksgiving day for the Christian.  It is He who provides all that we need and much more that we want. Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

And in December, we rejoice at the birth of the Christ child.  God — made flesh.  We exchange presents to celebrate His birth.   Jesus is the reason for that season.    For without His birth and His death, we would not have access to the greatest gift ever given — Salvation.  Yes, Jesus is the reason for that season. 

So you see, Jesus is NOT the reason for THE season.  JESUS IS THE REASON FOR ALL SEASONS – no matter what the season.  Thank you Jesus!

May you have a Merry, Blessed Christmas!

Because Jesus is the Reason 

To some, she was Mrs. Jane, to others, Grandma Jane, to all,  —  friend.  Mrs. Jane died Tuesday morning. 

Sunday she was at church just 2 days ago.  A tiny, frail body in a wheelchair with a huge infectious smile.  It was difficult for us.   None of us wanted to admit that she was not going to be with us much longer.  God had granted her more time then the physicians did.   I want to believe that God wanted her to be an object lesson for His love and His grace for just a little while longer.

She asked that the choir sing, “The God of the Mountain.”  We really struggled.  Seeing her, singing that song, knowing that He in deed was the God of her mountains as well as her valleys, somehow made us face the reality that she was soon going to go through that valley.  As we choked back tears, her face glowed.  With arms stretched to Heaven she wanted us to know that He had been her God of the cancer too.

Pastor Mike obeyed the Holy Spirit and scrapped his morning sermon; instead gave us an opportunity to share with Mrs. Jane what she meant to us.  To one she was a “welcome” to an unfamiliar church, to another she was a dependable friend.  She was “Mrs. Hospitality” to the entire congregation.  To every widow, she was a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and a friend who understood loss and loneliness.    She was a neighbor with a bowl of chicken soup, or sweet potatoes, or candied graham crackers.  She was a joker and loved to tell funny stories.  She was at times a bit of a prankster.  She was patriotic (how fitting that her last Sunday at church we would be celebrating Veterans Day).  But above all, she was God’s daughter.

God blessed us just one more time in allowing her to come to church Sunday.  All too often it is at the funeral when friends and family share the good things.  It seems at viewing time and after internment, one hears laughter as someone shares “a time when ….”  You feel the loss of someone wonderful.  I’ve often wondered why we don’t tell loved ones those things while they are living.  I guess it helps to take some of the sting away … memories …. by then, it’s is all we have to cling to, our loved one is gone.  But Sunday we had the opportunity to let Mrs. Jane know how we felt and most importantly, how very, very much we love her.  She made a difference in our lives.  Wasn’t God gracious to us!!

Mrs. Jane showed us how someone lives with cancer – not how one dies with cancer.   She showed us God healing power and never for a minute would voice regret or the feeling that God had forsaken her.  For her, a Heavenly home was healing enough.  It seemed that once she got sicker, when she was able to come to church, right after the special in song, she’d pop-up (yeah, she kind of had a way for leaving her seat that was different than just standing) and say, “Pastor Mike, I just have to give a word of testimony.”  We take so much for granted.  She wanted everyone to know it was God who gave her the strength to come to worship. 

She will be greatly missed.  Others will pick up where she left off.  They may do some things as she did; or not.  Those little feet left big shoes to fill.  No one will replace Mrs. Jane; but many will carry on what she did so lovingly.  

The next time Pastor Mike asks for prayer requests in a worship service, we will feel the void.  So Lord, please help us to remember to pray for “unsaved loved one” because Mrs. Jane won’t be here to remind us to.

Today Heaven has radded a wonderful jewel to the ranks.  God bless you, Mrs. Jane, for the legacy you have left behind.

 

Hold them in highest regard in love because of their work.  I Thessalonians 5:13
 

October is Pastor’s Appreciation month.  Each year we reflect and recognize what a gift from God the Pastor and parsonage family are to the church.   I have been a member of several different church congregations in my life-time.  I do not recall all that was done for Pastor’s appreciation, but I do remember that each time I felt so fortunate that the Pastor honored was mine. Church boards most often are in charge of this special recognition and what takes  place.  But we need to remember that the Pastor is not just the board’s Pastor.  He ministers to each and every congregation member.   While I have always thought it nice that something more or less monumental is done by the board in the name of the congregation, I was also left asking, “What have I done to let the Pastor and his family know how much I love and appreciate them.”  If you attend Moultrie First, or attend another church, take time  and think of all the times your Pastor has “been there” for you.  Find a way to let him know how thankful you are. Here are a few suggestions:

• On September 28th (or any day, for that matter) give him a box with 31 notes of appreciation and tell him to read them each day in October.
• Have your kids draw a picture of their favorite Bible story for the Pastor.
• Give a gift certificate for a local restaurant.
• Make “Scripture Cookies” wrap cookies individually in colorful plastic wrap with a verse on a piece of paper enclosed
• Bring hot cocoa/coffee and a box of donuts to the pastor’s office.
• Give a gift certificate to a local bookstore or the Nazarene Publishing House.
• Send an encouraging email.
• Share with your Pastor how you are growing spiritually through his ministry.
• Give a gift certificate for a vehicle lube/oil change.
• Bring Pizza for lunch with “Thank You” spelled out in pepperoni.
• Write “Thank You” in sidewalk chalk on the pavement of his parking spot at church.
• Pray daily for your pastor.

 I am certain that you can think of many, many more ideas.  Have fun with it.  But most importantly, find a way to let him know that you recognize all that he does (though none of us fully recognize all that any pastor does for his congregation), you appreciate it, and he has made a difference in your life.  Our Pastor has invested countless hours in prayer and study in order to be prepared to meet the challenges of life and ministry.  Pastor Farmer has been a blessing at the major moments of spiritual development within the fabric of the Christian life.  He has performed marriages, baby dedications, and baptisms.  He has prayed for the sick, celebrated new birth, comforted those in crisis, and has brought messages of hope in times of death. 

This is a time to honor Pastor Farmer and to say, “Thank you!”

 

If you ain’t from around here, as my friend would say, you may have no idea the amount of rain we have experienced as a result of Tropical Storm Fay. I knew that we had about 18 inches at our house; Tallahassee 24 inches. That is a lot of rain in 3 days!

The rains started with great intensity on Friday. Our area schools closed down at 1:30, and I sort of felt like the college where I work would follow suit (so did everyone else). NOT. Since we had to stay all day, I noticed a dramatic “work slow-down after lunch. It was almost like “I may have to be here, but that doesn’t mean I have to work.

A similar thing happened Monday, the K-12 schools again were closed; the report was that more than 100 roads in Tallahassee had been closed; Highway 84, a main road access to the beautiful city of Thomasville was closed between Cairo and Thomasville (5 people tried to drive through anyway, lost their cars, and almost their lives – they had to be air lifted out); many county roads in Thomas County were closed.  But like the US Postman, we were expected to weather the conditions and it was “business as usual.”

Needless to say, there was a cold and gloomy atmosphere that hung over the college that day too.

I was reminded of a song that we often sing at church:

Holy Spirit, reign down, reign down
Oh, comforter and friend
Come we need your touch again.

Holy Spirit reign down, reign down
Let your power fall, let your voice be heard
Come and change our hearts, as we stand on your word
Holy Spirit, reign down.
Holy Spirit reign down, reign down
Oh comforter and (my) friend
How we need your touch again.

Holy Spirit reign down, reign down
Let your power fall, let your voice be heard
Come and change our hearts, as we stand on your word
Holy Spirit, reign down.

When the Holy Spirit reigns (rains) down on us, how do we respond?  Do we get cozy in our little corner and enjoy the shower of blessings? Desire to just cuddle up and avoid “work” of the Kingdom if at all possible? Do we look to see all that is around us and question the idea of facing challenges (or challenging people)? Do we dare step outside our comfort zone? When the Holy Spirit reigns, we are empowered to ask, “What does the Lord want from me? What is He powering me up to do?”

I pray that I am not apathetic in my response and in my actions. After all the reason the Holy Spirit reigns down on us is to empower us for His calling and to give us strength, purpose, and vision to share (not to hoard) the wonderful grace of God. We need to walk out of that kind of Holy presence thoroughly soaked and energized to share Him with others.

So, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain!

This morning I have nothing to say. If you know me, you know I love to write. I have never really experienced “writers block.” But this morning I have few words to share. I love to talk, but I am speechless.

There is a reason.

This summer has been flying by like there is no tomorrow. I just started using the word “June” when it was already “July.” And now August is almost over. I have had a summer packed with wonderful events I really wanted to happen.

Grandson Alex came for five weeks, and they seemed like five days. We enjoyed Orlando’s Holy Land Experience, an extended family reunion in Tennessee, Gatlinburg, and Dollywood. I had the joy of watching him become a “fish” as he was able to go swimming anytime he wanted and developed his water endurance. We “did” three days at Orlando’s Universal Studio Resort and Islands of Adventure (two days with Alex, one just Roy and me). Summer quarter got underway at the College and we are now gearing up for Fall quarter. It seems the only time I have stopped was just for the opportunity to catch a second-wind.

It is in those times that I am so busy, stressed with deadlines, with more things to do than the number of hours in a day; that I find myself going 90 miles an hour – in actions as well as words. It is in those times that I appreciate the wonderful phrase, “Be still.”

It is in the hurriedness of the moment that I realize that if I don’t slow down I will miss the important. “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).  Many times I have had to remind myself that if I don’t stop and listen, I will miss a very important message. God is not like the runners in Central Park. He does not have to wait until I am running to sprint toward me and tell me something. No, it is I who must slow down; “be still” in activities, words, and thoughts, to not only recognize but also to honor God.

Be still and listen. Be still and see. Be still and grow. Be still and know. Know that He is God! Be still and know that He knows everything about me, every challenge I must overcome, every joy I will experience. Be still and know that He must walk before me, not run behind me. Be still and elevate Him to His place of honor in my life.

Be still.

So this morning I am being still.  I know that He is God!

I have nothing else to say.

As some of you may know, our grandson, Alex, is visiting for the summer.  It’s been five years since he was last in southwest Georgia.  He lives in a year round cooler climate (northern California) and he recognized the difference the minute he stepped off the plane.  “Wow, it sure is humid here!”

Alex’s flight arrived in Orlando.  That was good.  My husband had a convention to attend in Orlando, so I was free to spend a couple of days in “children’s fantasy land,” just Alex and me, during the day.

One of the places that he wanted to go was a “theme park” of sorts called the Holy Land Experience.  I checked it out on the internet; the day we arrived (the day before he arrived) I found a brochure about it in the hotel lobby.  But I really was not prepared for our experience at the Holy Land Experience. 

When we first entered the “Gates of the City” we were transformed in time.  I must admit, the first few minutes at the “park” my impression was, “Wow, this is so cheesy.  What are we doing here?  This is a waste of time.”  We entered the “Smile of a Child” which is a part of the park focusing on the attention level and thrills of about a four year old child.  We walked through the throat and stomach (all made of fiberglass) of the whale – Jonah was suspended in the belly praying for an escape.  At the end of his prayer I was hoping at least he would disappear (the narrator added something like, “And Jonah was spit up by the whale and went to do the work of the Lord, as he was told.”)  But Jonah continued to be suspended right there in front of us in the belly of the whale.

We tromped through Noah’s fiberglass arc.  Cute from the outside, but inside was an educational video and little benches.  As we continued through I heard the little girl on the screen singing a Sesame Street type song about the letter “F”.  As we left the “Smile of a Child” we soon ran into time period dressed park employee.  She suggested that we view the scheduled events of the day and attend the dramatic productions that were available.  By now the sun was very hot and I was in total agreement since I figured those productions would be in an enclosure with air conditioning.  Guess what?  The Holy Land (the real one) doesn’t have a lot of artificial air conditioning – and neither did the park!

We went to the Garden Tomb.  A man was there talking about the tomb of Jesus and how in the Holy Land there are two places that hold claim to being the tomb of Jesus; one a garden tomb, the other a city tomb.  We continued to search for a reprieve from the sun and heat.  Temple Square had a musical patriotic production starting in a few minutes.  I saw a couple chairs in the shade of the tall walls.  Armed with ice cream sandwiches and cold lemon-aid, we grabbed those shaded seats.  Observations from the presentation; there was much more in this production than the music.  As we waited those few minutes before it started, a young man with a smile on his hot face handed us American flags.  I was really wondering if there would be an American patriotic musical actually held in the real temple courtyard.  The singers were absolutely amazing.  That, Alex enjoyed.  However, I found myself watching the people in the audience.  On the front row appeared to be a Middle Eastern couple; she in a sari of sorts; he in a tunic.  They were looked very hot in the now blazing direct sun.  When we all stood to pledge Allegiance to the American Flag, they politely rose but did not pledge.  We were seated and a young lady came out to sing the most moving Star Spangled Banner I have ever heard in my life.  As she began, “Oh, say can you see…..” that couple were the first to their feet.  I’ll admit, it was embarrassing to see so many “Americans” that did not know that you rise when the National Anthem is sung.

As the day progressed, a monk (OK, he was an employee), suggested that we not miss the one presentation of “Behold the Lamb.”  The crowd was already gathering around the Garden Tomb.  We actually found some benches in semi-shade and parked ourselves there for the 20 minute wait.  At least we had seats and were not in direct sun light.  I had no idea what we were about to view.  It was the most “passionate” Passion play I have ever experienced.  For a time there, I felt as if I were witnessing the crucifixion of our Savior.  As the actor (who was phenomenal) portrayed Jesus’ death, there were tears in the audience.  But wait; there was still the resurrection to come!  And then there were praises from the audience, just as I am sure there were “in the day.”

We took a 55 minute tour through the Scriptorium.  Authenticated displays that carried us from the beginning of time, through Egyptian hieroglyphics and the actual scrolls, on to the making of paper and priestly transcriptions, the Guttenberg press, an actual Guttenberg Bible, translations to the Latin, from Latin to English, from Greek and Hebrew to English, the stories of those who lost their lives in the controversy of translating the Bible, Jon Bunyan and the an original Pilgrims Progress, much in between these, and finally modern technology that brings the availability of the gospel to all people. 

The last cool – as in air-conditioned – production that we experienced was “Praises through the Ages,” which took art and music from the beginnings of the Psalms sung on the hill sides, all the way through Contemporary Christian music.  By the end of that the crowd was on their feet, singing with the performers and really praising God.  There were people from all over this country and beyond, many races, various walks of life, and a host of denominations – all praising God in one accord.

Tired and weary, we left the Holy Land Experience and drive for an hour and 17 minutes (11 miles in total) in rush hour traffic to return to the cool pool at the hotel.  That drive allowed time to talk and process what we had seen and heard.  Alex, who in 11 years old, felt as if he had really been to the Holy Land.  Everything impressed him and he was most moved with “Behold the Lamb” and to experience visiting the empty tomb.  Many things impressed me.  All day we had been in an Orlando “theme park” and I had not seen any rudeness, from staff or visitors.  There was no obnoxious behavior, no cursing, no pushing or complaining about hot waits in the sun.  I was most impressed that in each production venue, there were basically the same 10 or so cast members.  They had to have had tremendous stamina, sang and acted at a most professional level, and obviously changed clothes a dozen times – always arriving at the appropriate time – looking and acting like they were the real characters that they were portraying.

Alex experienced a piece of history.  I experienced a realization that God’s people are the real thing.  God’s people don’t look, act, or praise in all the same way.  And the Holy Land Experience, it was all about the experience; and the people made it real.

This morning I was reading an article entitled “Eat That Frog.” It was all about setting priorities correctly and having the carry-through to complete the most important priorities first. It was an interesting article. When I finished reading it, I was thrown into this tail-spin of “frog stories”.

My extended family has a family web site where we communicate with each other on a very regular basis. I have a couple of cousins that have the most off center sense of humor. I love it. I remember last summer they began sharing with the family how they were going to raise frogs to be sold for their frog-legs. And not just any frogs. These frogs were of the illegal variety. Daily we were kept up to date on the “frog” adventures. A cousin from military intelligence (civilian now) even tried to warn them of the consequences of such activities (he was the nephew of one of the frog farmers).

Of course the venture sadly ended when one day they checked out their pond of frogs and the frogs had all disappeared. Few in the family knew (or even know now) that the frog farm adventure was nothing more than a hoax from the minds of two cousins that can spin a tale so well it is hard to doubt them or see what they are saying for what it really is.

Bear with me as I share another story about frogs. Once, there was a frog that lived in the middle of a swamp. His entire family had lived in that swamp for generations, but this particular frog decided that he had had quite enough wetness to last him a lifetime. He decided that he was going to find a dry place to live instead. The only thing that separated him from dry land was a swampy, muddy, swiftly flowing river. But the river was home to all sorts of slippery, slithering snakes that loved nothing better than a good, plump frog for dinner, so Frog didn’t dare try to swim across. For many days, the frog stayed put, hopping along the bank, trying to think of a way to get across.

The snakes hissed and jeered at him, daring him to come closer, but he refused. Occasionally they would slither closer, jaws open to attack, but the frog always leaped out of the way. But no matter how far upstream he searched or how far downstream, the frog wasn’t able to find a way across the water. He had felt certain that there would be a bridge, or a place where the banks came together, yet all he found was more reeds and water. After a while, even the snakes stopped teasing him and went off in search of easier prey.

Suddenly, he spotted two big eyes staring at him from the water. The giant log-shaped animal opened its mouth and asked him, “What are you doing, Frog? Surely there are enough flies right there for a meal.” The frog croaked in surprise and leaped away from the crocodile. That creature could swallow him whole in a moment without thinking about it! Once he was satisfied that he was a safe distance away, he answered. “I’m tired of living in swampy waters, and I want to travel to the other side of the river. But if I swim across, the snakes will eat me.”

The crocodile harrumphed in agreement and sat, thinking, for a while. “Well, if you’re afraid of the snakes, I could give you a ride across,” he suggested.

Oh no, I don’t think so,” Frog answered quickly. “You’d eat me on the way over, or go underwater so the snakes could get me!”

“Now why would I let the snakes get you? I think they’re a terrible nuisance with all their hissing and slithering! The river would be much better off without them altogether! Anyway, if you’re so worried that I might eat you, you can ride on my tail.” The frog considered his offer. He did want to get to dry ground very badly, and there didn’t seem to be any other way across the river. He looked at the crocodile from his short, squat buggy eyes and wondered about the crocodile’s motives. But if he rode on the tail, the croc couldn’t eat him anyway. And he was right about the snakes–no self-respecting crocodile would give a meal to the snakes.

“Okay, it sounds like a good plan to me. Turn around so I can hop on your tail.” The crocodile flopped his tail into the marshy mud and let the frog climb on, then he waddled out to the river. But he couldn’t stick his tail into the water as a rudder because the frog was on it — and if he put his tail in the water, the snakes would eat the frog.

They clumsily floated downstream for a ways, until the crocodile said, “Hop onto my back so I can steer straight with my tail.” The frog moved, and the journey smoothed out. From where he was sitting, the frog couldn’t see much except the back of Crocodile’s head. “Why don’t you hop up on my head so you can see everything around us?” Crocodile invited.

“But I don’t want to see anything else,” the frog answered, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Oh, come now. It’s a beautiful view! Surely you don’t think that I’m going to eat you after we’re halfway across. My home is in the marsh– what would be the point of swimming across the river full of snakes if I didn’t leave you on the other bank?”

Frog was curious about what the river looked like, so he climbed on top of Crocodile’s head. The river looked almost pretty from this view. He watched dragonflies darting over the water and smiled in anticipation as he saw firm ground beyond the cattails. When the crocodile got close enough, the frog would leap off his head towards freedom. He wouldn’t give the croc a chance to eat him.

“My nose tickles,” the crocodile complained suddenly, breaking into the frog’s train of thought. “I think there might be a fly buzzing around it somewhere, or a piece of cattail fluff swept into it while I was taking you across the river.”

“I don’t see a fly,” the frog said, peering at the crocodile’s green snout. It seemed odd that anything could tickle a crocodile through its thick skin.

“Would you go check my nose for a piece of cattail fluff, then?” the crocodile begged, twitching his nose. “I’m afraid I’ll sneeze and send you flying. I don’t want to feed you to the snakes.” A tear seeped out of his eye, as if he was holding back a mighty sneeze.

The bank isn’t too far, the frog thought. And it’s the least he could do to repay him for bringing him over. So he hopped onto the crocodile’s snout and checked the nostrils.

Just a little closer, and he could jump… “I don’t see–” he began. Just then, with a terrific CHOMP! the frog disappeared. The crocodile licked his lips in satisfaction and gave a tiny half-sneeze. “Good, I feel much better already,” he smiled, and turned around to go back home.

It’s a tale with a moral; do not become complacent of danger – in a second it will suck you in. Bringing frog stories to the spiritual – how often are we complacent to the point of not recognizing that we are no longer “flirting” with danger but consumed by its draw?

One more frog story and I will stop. They say that if you put a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will leap out right away to escape the danger. if you put a frog in a kettle that is filled with water that is cool and pleasant, and then you heat the kettle until it starts boiling, the frog will not become aware of the threat until it is too late. The frog’s survival instincts are geared towards detecting sudden changes.

The same moral to the tale. Can you identify a slowly developing threat to your spiritual life? Not getting into the pot of cold water to begin with will certainly keep us out of the hot water in the end, so to speak. It’s a warning to keep us paying attention not just to the obvious threats but to more slowly developing ones.

Jeanine

At our church there is a wonderful group of folks called the Pastor’s Prayer Partnership Team.  We pray daily for our pastor.  And a group of us meet every Sunday morning to spend almost an hour in prayer for the services of the day and for our pastor.  I have the pleasure of writing a weekly newsletter to all the Partners entitled the “Partners Pages”. 

There is a person who is deeply involved in the PPPT and most of the Partners have never met her.  My sister, friend, prayer partner, and co-worker, Tammy Drew.  Tammy is the sister that my biological parents never gave me.  She is my God given sister.

She is involved weekly in the writing and distribution of the Partners Pages.  She proof-reads the pages – I can assure you the one’s she doesn’t proof have gross typing errors; there is a marked difference in the ones that go out without her keen eye first seeing them.  And then she makes sure that they make it to the Post Office every week.  Weekly, she asks about prayer requests from the week before.  Daily she prays for those of us on the team.

A few weeks ago Tammy underwent some “tests.”  Bottom line result was that she had a malignancy.  Please understand that it is very difficult for me to use the word “cancer” in the same sentance with “Tammy.”  In the time that has transpired she’s had a biopsy, and a lumpectomy.  She now has an appointment with the Oncologist.  Her surgeon was sure that he removed everything, but she will meet with the oncologist to know the next step from here.

To just about anyone else this would all be devastating. Want to see a person actng more or less crazy, let them go through what Tammy has been through in the past month.  But not Tammy.  You have to know that Tammy has tremendous faith. Almost every day she quotes to anyone within earshot, “With His stripes, I am healed.”  Now, in context of the scripture, Isaiah is talking about our spiritual broken-ness from God is healed. Many folks quote that out of context, believing it is referring only to our physical bodies.  In Tammy’s case, she knows that regardless of the earthly situation, her heavenly situation is secure because she is spiritually healed.  And she is believing that God will also heal her physical body; whether here on earth or in eternity.

Everything about Tammy’s life is in God’s hands.

What a wonderful witness she has been to folks in our department, to her extended family, and to anyone who crosses her path.  There are folks that come into contact with her daily who are in chronic pain, or facing an uncertainty. Her words for them are the same as the words she recites for herself, “With His stripes, I am healed.”

There is a lesson to be learned from Tammy. No matter the situation, those who are called by His name can rejoice! Does that faith and rejoicing mean that the Christian will face no adversity? Not in a heart-beat! Of course not! In fact it’s my observation that those who have such strong faith and publically acknowledge what God has done for them will face more adversity.  Satan would rather see a poor loser than a triumphant Christian; so he throws all kinds of snares to silence the joy.  If you are not facing adversity, chances are satan knows he has a grip on you already — no need to attack those he already has.

Are you living just on personal triumphs, or are you letting those around you know what a difference God makes in your life? I am determined to learn the lesson from Tammy.

How about you?

Jeanine

This morning coming to work I passed a church.  On their sign was “Christians Can Sing.” 

Almost 13 years ago my oldest son was in a horrible motorcycle accident.  When we arrived at the hospital the attending physician met us in the lobby with a very grim look on her face.  She tried to explain his injuries, and honestly, she held out no hope for survival (nothing was even mentioned using the word ‘recovery’).  I remember walking into the ER Trauma Room and had I not know that was my son I doubt I would have recognized him.

He was in a comma and in intensive care for 2 weeks.  They were the longest two weeks of my life.  However, I never gave up hope that in deed he would survive.  God can provide the most wonderful peace when we need it the very most.  I lived at the hospital those 2 weeks.  After the 10:00 p.m. visitation it was my routine to go home, kiss my other 2 sons – already asleep in their beds, shower and then return to the hospital.  If I could get back before 11:00 p.m. there were a couple of the nurses that would let me in for just a moment to kiss him good-night before their shift ended.

I am one who always sings in the car.  It was a 20 minute drive from the hospital to home, then 20 minutes back from home to the hospital.  I remember day after day putting a tape in the tape player and almost immediately turning it off.  There was no song in me.  On the 10th day in ICU, when I arrived home there was a small package for me.  It was a tape I had ordered weeks earlier that was places on back order.  I wasn’t even going to open it, but on my way back to the car I did.  The first song was “His Eye is on the Sparrow”.  As the chorus started I was almost angry.   Those words, “I sing because I’m happy …” Happiness was one of the feelings that had escaped me.  The second song on the tape was “When Answers Aren’t Enough, There is Jesus.”  The words stung.  Then they sank in, deeply.

While I was far from happy, I was at peace.  And it was a peace that no one else in the ICU waiting room seemed to understand.  Looking back I was reminded of the support that surrounded me.  Since Roy and I were both active in Kiwanis, there were a multitude of community friends surrounding us.  In fact one day we commented that Kevin would have to survive, God was being overwhelmed.  That day at one time there were 7 ministers, all of different denominations waiting and praying with us.  God really was good to us.  The only time I was alone were the wee hours of the night, and then I wasn’t alone – God promised that He would never leave us alone, and He was true to His word, the Comforter was with me each night.

It took a reminding me through that second song, that I did not need answers, I had Jesus.

I still could not sing in the car that night, but I could listen.  The next day I could sing!  The first and second song on that tape.  Each night I played them over and over.  And I could sing, “I sing because I’m happy.”  No I was far from happy about the situation, but I was happy because I knew “He watches over me.”

All those memories flooded me as I arrived at work this morning.  I realized that over the last 13 years, He still has never left me alone!  And each day I can sing.  Yes, Christians can sing – because we have something to sing about.  No matter the situation, how elated or desperate we are, Christians can sing.

Oh, and Kevin, it was a long haul, but he not only survived, he recovered!

“I sing because I’m happy,

I sing because I’m free

His eye is on the sparrow -

And I know He watches me.”  

Do you have something to sing about?  You can.  If you can’t sing, email me.  Let me share with you how you too can be a Christian that can sing.

Jeanine