Tag: Character of God

Why Say Grace?

When I was growing up, we always said grace before our meals. It wasn’t an afterthought; it wasn’t an affectation. It was just part of the meal. We sat down, said grace, and started eating. Sometimes, Dad did the honors; sometimes, it was Mom. And sometimes, my sister or I were asked to say it. It was usually something simple, though it wasn’t always the same. We would say grace at home, around our own table, and we would say grace at restaurants– wherever and whenever our family was together for a meal.

Today, my husband and I have the same tradition. We don’t have children in the house, but he and I take turns saying grace, and if one of the grandkids happens to visit, they know they may be asked to take a turn, as well. If David and I are eating out, we still take a quiet moment to hold hands, close our eyes, and say grace. Some times, other diners or wait staff will stare (or glare) or comment, but most of the time, they don’t even notice.

So why do we do it? Is it no more than force of habit? Are we just “holier” than other diners? Do we really think it impresses God if we say grace, or that God will be angry if we don’t say it?

No. But we believe saying grace is important. Here are some reasons why:

  • Grace is about gratitude. In our busy lives, it can be tempting to take things for granted– even things like food and family. We are BLESSED to have food to eat, and family with whom to share it. We are blessed when we go out to eat to have others cook and clean up for us. We are blessed whenever our family or neighbors can share a meal with us. God is a loving and gracious God, and grace is a time to remember our blessings.
  • Grace slows us down for just a minute to REMEMBER who we are, and who God is! All our blessings– including food and family and time to share them– come from God. Grace reminds us to be humble as well as thankful. It reminds us to see God’s hand at work in even the smallest and most mundane happenings in our lives. And it reminds us that God is faithful in all things, big and small.

  • Grace also helps us to remember to thank the people involved in our meals– the ability to buy groceries; the work it takes to prepare our food; friends and family who share our meals; neighbors who have given or traded with us for food; the cooks and wait staff that serve us at restaurants. Saying grace helps us SEE how we are interconnected; how we depend on God and on others in every area of our lives.
  • Grace gives us the opportunity to lift up our immediate worries and give them to God, instead of holding on to them. Grace is more than just a quick word about food. It is a time for us as a couple (or a family) to pray together about worries that are on our minds. Then, instead of being stressed as we eat, we can stay “in the moment” with each other, and enjoy mealtime together! It’s also a great way to share our thoughts, feelings, and concerns in a safe and informal environment. How much better mealtime is when stress and frustration are diminished, and joy and peace are given a seat at the table, instead!

Saying grace is much more than just a quaint habit from a bygone era. It is a vital part of our growth as individual Christians, and as a Christian couple. I believe it is a simple and quiet witness to others. I believe it has benefits for our digestion, our attitudes, and our emotions, as well.

Grace– not just the mealtime prayer, but the concept of Grace– is not loud or showy. It is, however, consistent, lovely, and powerful. May we say grace; may we show grace; may we live in the power of Grace today!

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Praying From the Basement

I grew up in a rambling, pre-1860s farmhouse in rural southwestern Michigan. We had a “Michigan basement”,” “– unfinished dirt floors, walls made of fieldstone and rocks, crudely cemented together, exposed floorboards and joists from the ground floor providing a ceiling. A rickety wooden stairway ended in a small cemented landing. It was a haven for dust and cobwebs, and everything in the basement had a grimy film of dust mixed with the residue of an old oil-burning furnace. It was littered with “dead” things– a rusted-out bicycle frame from the 1940s; a long-forgotten set of rattan patio furniture with mildewed pads and broken wicker bits sticking out underneath; a broken rake; and, in one corner, what looked like the skeleton of a small rodent. There was an old cabinet, formerly with two doors, now standing with one door hanging askew, and the other one missing all but half a hinge piece. Inside were old Mason jars, rimmed with lime deposits, holding nails, screws, nuts and bolts, and other odds and ends, and more Mason jars holding home-canned tomatoes from a garden of unknown vintage. There was a single 40-watt incandescent light bulb screwed into an ancient ceramic socket and mounted on one of the overhead floorboards, which did little to diminish the general sense of gloom and decay. There were four small windows–but they had long ago succumbed to grime and dirt from inside and out. It was the stuff of childhood nightmares.

Last week, we had a tornado warning, and one of my friends from church spoke of taking her children to the basement to wait out the weather. It reminded me of my own mother, gathering my sister and I– sometimes pulling us from our beds– and taking us to shelter in the basement until a storm had passed. My father often worked the night shift, and so the job was left to Mom to herd us into the southwest corner of the basement, being sure to bring a blanket and a flashlight, and make sure we were wearing slippers or shoes. She also had an old portable AM/FM radio, so we could listen to the weather bulletins amidst the gloom and dust and damp of the basement.

And yet–

My memories of going to the basement during a storm are not memories that inspire terror or disgust. I never wanted to visit the basement any other time, but during a storm, it was our “safe” place. The winds and rain and hail might rage outside, but we were warm and snug (sometimes too warm!) in our little corner. And no matter how frightened my mom may have been, she always reassured us that we would be safe together in that place. And then, she would lead us in prayer. We prayed that Dad would be safe at work. We prayed for anyone who was in the path of the storm. We prayed that God would protect our house. We prayed for those who were on the road, and for those who would have to go out after the storm to fix electric lines or rescue others. And we thanked God for our basement!

Sometimes, God uses grubby basements to be our “safe” place. What otherwise may seem like a scary situation can become a cause for praise and celebration when we remember that God is with us!

I think of the prophet Jeremiah, who was arrested and thrown into a cistern–a place far worse than our basement– but God caused him to be rescued (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Jeremiah%2038&version=NIV). He went from the mud-filled cistern to the palace of the King! And even though Jeremiah faced many other trials and griefs, Jeremiah was able to write: “

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
    the bitterness and the gall.
20 I well remember them,
    and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”
(Lamentations 3:19-24 NIV)

And I think of Paul and Silas in prison in Philippi (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%2016:16-34&version=ESV ). They sang and prayed after having been beaten and unfairly arrested. And they were trapped in the prison when an earthquake hit! But the end result was not only their vindication and freedom, but salvation for the Philippian jailor and his family!

There are seasons when we are forced to go to the basement–literally and figuratively. There are times when we must sit and wait in the dark and damp, uncertain of where the storm will hit or how long it will last. But often, in those basement moments, we find ourselves closer to God than when we climb mountains! God sits with us in the gloom. God has the power to turn our fear and uncertainty into praise and worship. And God will bring those memories of His comfort and strength back to us in other times of trouble.

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May Day Mishaps

Today is the first of May– May Day. May Day has a long history, with pagan origins tied to the celebration of late spring or early summer. In many European nations, there would be dancing around a May Pole, or May bush, floral garlands, and floral bouquets offered at various shrines, including to the Virgin Mary. In some communities, girls vied to be crowned the “May Queen,” while stories were told of fairies. May Day was popular in the United States for many years around the turn of the 20th century– with parades, flower baskets, and more. It is less popular in modern times, and many of the floral parades and festive outings take place around Memorial Day, instead.

When I was a child in elementary school, we made paper “flowers” and a small paper coronet with a loop handle for May Day. I remember making daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips out of construction paper and other craft materials, and making the coronet “baskets” out of decorated paper cones. We glued or stapled the pieces together to take home. Then, we were encouraged to loop the handle over the door knob at the front door of our house when we got home, knock, and run and hide around the corner. Presumably, our mothers or babysitters would see the gift of flowers and wonder who could have left them there. It was a fun game to play, and a way to celebrate the season of wonderful spring flowers.

Unfortunately, when we did this in kindergarten, my flowers got trampled on the bus. It was a rainy day, and my flowers fell in the aisle, where a boy stepped on them with muddy sneakers. They were ruined. I cried and cried, and another boy on the bus gave me the flowers he had made. It was a thoughtful gesture– one I’ve never forgotten– but I remained desolate. I told my mother the whole sordid story, and she told me that, in her day, they had picked wildflowers, such as violets and even clovers, and tied them with a string to leave on someone’s porch. Then she took me outside, and we made a small bunch of violets with a couple of “Dutchman’s Breeches.” I didn’t get to surprise her, but we had such fun looking for wildflowers together.

I loved this game so much, I decided to go a step further the next year. We made paper “bouquets” at school, just like the previous year. Mine stayed clean and dry, and I hung it on the doorknob and mom pretended to be surprised. But later, I took one of our juice glasses from the cupboard, and picked a nice bunch of my mom’s live daffodils and hyacinths, a couple of her irises, and a tulip. I tried to arrange them in the juice glass, but it was too short and small to hold all the flowers I had picked. I left it on the porch, near the door, and knocked and hid, waiting to see my mom’s delight at her “surprise” bouquet. But instead of delight, I heard her wail– “Oh, no! My flowers!” The glass had tipped over, the flowers lay limply all over the porch, and the glass had rolled onto the ground. I thought I had made a wonderful surprise. Instead, I had made a mess. I had picked almost all of Mom’s best daffodils, and all of her pink hyacinths. I had trampled some of her other irises to get to the one I wanted. She only had a few tulips, and I had picked the only red one.

My intentions were good, but my execution was poor. And the result was disappointing and hurtful to us both. Mom didn’t realize I was right around the corner hearing her dismay, and I didn’t realize my “gift” would fall so flat.

It’s been over 50 years since my “May Day Mishap,” but there are some lessons I have never forgotten:

  • Picked flowers die! Mom wasn’t angry with me for wanting to pick flowers, but she knew that picked flowers would wilt and die. In later years, Mom loved receiving hanging flower baskets, and planters with live flowers. And we had many memories of planting live annuals in the front yard or at graves near Memorial Day– flowers that might take root and spread joy throughout the summer months. In the same way, there are so many “showy” projects that vie for our attention– projects that may seem urgent or offer quick rewards like status or money. We are tempted to “pick” projects that will make us look good or feel good in the moment. But the really important projects are those that have lasting impact, even if they don’t “show” as well. We are wise to invest in “little” things that have lasting impact over “big” but fleeting activities and investments.
  • When giving gifts, it really is the thought that counts! My mom was just as delighted by the “second-hand” flowers I got from my classmate as she was by the the ones I made the next year. Not because his were “better” than mine, but because they demonstrated that I had a good friend at school with a kind heart. My “mishap” gift came, in part, because I wanted to give a “better” gift, not because I wanted to delight my mom, but I wanted to impress her. My mom was a saver– she saved all my old school papers, old valentines, birthday cards, and more. And she saved letters from her friends and family– over eighty years of them! Not because the cards and letters themselves were so wonderful, but because each one came with good wishes. She had an entire farmhouse of good wishes and thoughtful memories when she passed away in 2023.
  • Relationships are more important and more valuable than resources. I loved looking for wildflowers with my Mom that year of kindergarten. It’s one of my favorite memories of May Day. And I still remember the kindness of my friend, Ken, whose heart has since led him to the mission field on more than one occasion. No May Day flowers will last over fifty years, but friendships and relationships can and do!
  • Forgiveness is sweeter than flowers. I was so astonished to think that my error in judgment had caused my mother pain– and yet, when she found me, she hugged me tight and gently offered both forgiveness and correction. She demonstrated exactly the way our Father loves us. So often, I want to come to God with a bouquet of praise, or a basket of good works, leave it before His Throne and run away and hide. But God isn’t impressed by my flowers or my grand gestures. He wants to spend time with ME. Every year, he sends fields of wild flowers; in every season of life He sends friends, helpers, and other blessings. And, more than anything, He wants to share all of it with me. Not because I deserve it, but because He is so full of love and forgiveness. He wants to remind me to “come home” to His gracious arms. He is not waiting to scold me, punish me, or make me feel small. He wants to hug me, and with patience and gentleness, He will offer His Love, and correction. No matter what “May Day Mishaps” I may have.

This May Day, I am encouraged by God’s faithfulness, His forgiveness, and the power of His love. I hope you are, too!

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Recording God’s Answers

I keep a prayer journal. Every day, I have a list of people, places, and issues that prompts me to pray. Of course, I can pray about other things, as well. I can praise God for the day’s blessings, the weather (or provision in spite of the weather); I can confess failings and ask for God’s forgiveness. I can lift up things that are not on “today’s” list. But the list reminds me of so many things– the blessings of family and friends; the richness and vastness of God’s power and sovereignty; His faithfulness over so many years…

In my journal, I also keep a “running tab” of God’s many answers to prayers. Some of the answers bring joy; some bring wonder; some even bring tears. I have prayed for several people battling cancer. Many have gone into remission, but most have eventually died. I prayed for people during COVID. Many recovered– some slowly, some miraculously– but many others died. I have prayed for “little” things, like finding my keys (YES!), or making a sales goal at the store (NO). And some prayers have yet to be answered–I don’t know why or when, but I trust God has heard them all, and that His will and His answers will come– in His good time.

Often, I will look at the front side of the journal page (requests and reminders), and some of the requests are a year or more old. Then, I turn to the back side and look for the answer. Sometimes, in my haste, I have neglected to write the answer, so I will add it, with a small prayer of thanks. Sometimes, I have forgotten the exact outcome. Sometimes, I am encouraged to keep praying for a clear answer or outcome for an ongoing situation. But I am amazed at the number of prayers I have prayed over a year’s time, and how God has provided answers, big and small.

It is sometimes easy to forget the answered prayers amidst the worries of daily life. We are more concerned with the next crisis or the immediate needs before us. But it is helpful to record God’s answers (even the “NOs”) as we receive them. When we “count our blessings,” we can often stand amazed at some of the ways that God has “moved in mysterious ways” to answer things we once thought impossible, or overwhelming in the moment. Looking back, we can sometimes see how, and even why God has allowed us to go through experiences that seemed strange or unwelcome. And we can be reminded that the same God who answered all those prayers is listening to our current requests (and praises!).

God DOES answer prayer. He IS faithful. And when we keep a record of it, it increases our faith for the moments when we are still waiting on His answers!

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His Delight!

The sacrifice of the wicked
is an abomination to the Lord,
but the prayer of the upright
is his delight.

Proverbs 15:8

I believe that God listens to prayer. I believe that God answers prayer. But do I really live in the certainty that God DELIGHTS in my prayers?

I think it is important to know that God doesn’t just listen to our prayers out of duty or because He is hoping to hear a particular phrase or request or “type” of prayer. God DELIGHTS in hearing from US! God is thrilled to hear our prayers– whether they are prayers of praise or prayers of agonizing distress, God WANTS to hear from us.

Some may look at the verse above and say, “God may delight in the prayers of perfect people, or people who are righteous, but I am a sinner. He won’t delight in my prayers. I’m not even sure He will listen to my prayers.”

But that’s not what the verse says. It doesn’t say that God only delights in the prayers of people who are perfect, because, let’s face it, NONE of us is perfect. And who is truly righteous, apart from God Himself? No, God delights in the prayers of the “upright.” So what does that mean in relation to you and me?

God looks at the heart. He sees beyond actions and circumstances. So when we pray, God knows our motives and our deepest thoughts. And if they are “upright”– focused on who God really is, who we really are, and how we relate to Him and how He relates to us–our prayers are a delight to Him. He isn’t asking for perfect people or perfect prayers. He’s asking for us to be transparently honest and humbly desirous when we come before Him. We don’t even have to be perfect in our theology or our faith. If we have the desire to be near to God, God is delighted to listen and respond!

That’s why He despises the sacrifices of the wicked. Their actions may look honest and humble, but their hearts are NOT. They may say all the “right” phrases to impress other people; they may do all the “right” actions to look devout. But God sees their pride, their refusal to give up secret sins, or to confess their true needs. They may want “something” from God– an answer, a blessing, a miracle– but on their terms. They don’t want a relationship, they just want a result.

And when God looks at us, what does He see? I can’t count the times I come to God as a complete “mess.” I’m falling apart, exhausted, at the end of my rope. But God sees ME. He looks beyond my appearance, my emotions, my limitations, my past. He sees my heart. He hears my need. And He hears the hope and trust that I can pour out my heart and He will listen in love, mercy, and compassion.

So does that make me “upright?” Maybe not in human understanding. If I look in the mirror, I may still see a messed-up failure. But God sees the finished product– what He can do for me, in me, and through me as I place my trust in him! By faith in the finished work of Christ, I am redeemed, and so, I am “upright.” God sees in me what I can’t see in myself– His Spirit at work; my future with Him; the full extent of His love.

This is how Jesus saw His disciples. When He looked at Peter, He didn’t just see Peter’s impulsiveness, his impending denials and abandonment. He saw Cephas, “The Rock”– He saw what Peter could become. What He looked at John “the Beloved” disciple, He didn’t see John’s youth or ambition, He saw a child of God who would suffer and stand firm in His faith. When He saw Judas, He didn’t just see one who would betray Him. In fact, at the Last Supper, Jesus shared bread and wine with Judas, and washed Judas’ feet! Jesus took delight in spending time with Judas! It was Judas who threw that all away to his own doom.

And the same is true for us. God sees the whole package. The “upright” are those who look up, and seek God with their whole being. If you come to God– if you seek Him and desire to find HIM and know HIM–God delights in you because He delights to shower you with love, compassion, discipline, wisdom, and blessings– in spite of your circumstances and limitations; in spite of the pain you may be feeling in the moment. God wants a relationship with you, not a “result” of outward perfection, or abject obedience. He wants an honest, joyful, even sometimes difficult and painful relationship. With YOU!

God delights to hear from us– our praises, our desperation, our hopes and dreams, and our deepest fears. God delights in His children. He delights in our prayers!

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Why Confess?

One of the prayer models I like to use often is based on the acronym ACTS. ACTS stands for Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. I like this model because it is well-rounded. It works like this:


ADORATION–I love to begin prayer by remembering and acknowledging God’s worth, His supremacy, His Holiness, and His majesty. It sharpens my focus on the WHO of prayer, rather than the WHAT of my worries or doubts. And it puts everything in the proper perspective. Sometimes, I come to God by praying a Hymn, or praying a Psalm, or remembering the many names of God.

CONFESSION–Confession is important in prayer, and since I want to concentrate on it, I’ll come back to this element below.

THANKSGIVING– Thanksgiving returns me to remembering what God has already done– for me, for others, throughout history, and just yesterday in my life. Instead of prayer being all about my needs, wants, or concerns, prayer should be an honest conversation with God. And that must include gratitude, because God is truly GOOD! If you ever doubt that, think about the first five minutes of your morning. If you awoke, you are alive (thank you, God!). If you heard your alarm, opened your eyes and saw anything, if you were lying on a bed, in a shelter with a roof, if you were able to sleep through the night without the terrors of war, slavery, starvation, torture, or chronic agonizing pain, you have much for which to be grateful. If you were able to get out of bed on your own, able to eat breakfast, get dressed, and you have a job to go to or a purpose to fulfill in this day, you are among the blessed. To withhold praise and thanksgiving is to miss one of the privileges of life.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

SUPPLICATION–Yes, we bring requests to God. And He already knows what we need, what we desire, and what He has planned for us. So supplication is not about making God aware of our needs. But it is another act of acknowledging that God hears and responds to us. Because that’s the kind of God He IS! And because we have spent time Adoring, Confessing (to), and Thanking God, we know that we can present our requests without fear or doubt.

Most of us are fine with Adoring, Thanking, and Saying our requests, but Confession can be tricky– especially in our culture. What are the elements of Confession that trip us up? Mostly, I think, it’s a misunderstanding of what confession is (within the element of prayer) and what it is NOT.

Confession is defined as admitting to guilt, or to a crime or sin or wrongful act. But, even more basically, confession is an admission that we are not the ultimate authority over our lives or the lives of others. As such, we must confess before we can accept God’s atonement for our Sin. If we do not confess our need for God, we cannot accept, understand, or appreciate the depth and nature of His sacrificial Love for us. So when we pray, we must confess, not only God’s Glory in the heavens and the Earth, but His Sovereignty in our lives; His authority over our emotions, our thoughts, and our actions. King David gave us many great examples of confession in his Psalms– and they can be terrific models to use in our own prayers. (See Psalm 6, Psalm 32, Psalm 38, Psalm 51, and others.)

Confession in prayer is not primarily a list of our petty missteps– though we should be willing and able to name them, rather than denying what we’ve said and done–but a daily admission of God’s right to determine how we conduct our thoughts, our habits, our priorities, and our relationships, and acknowledging that God is Merciful, Gracious and Loving– beyond all our failures, mistakes, and even past rebellion. Confession shouldn’t focus so much on what we’ve done, as on how God is able to free us from guilt and shame, and how we intend to move on away from the past. We confess that our ways are not Holy, and in doing so, we underscore that God’s ways ARE Holy, perfect, wise, and good. God already knows our thoughts and actions, but WE need to be reminded of our goal– to run the good race (see Hebrews 12:1, and 1 Timothy 6:12) to follow Christ; to become more like God each day!

Confession is primary to the Christian Life– we confess that ONLY by the work of Jesus (the cross and resurrection) can we be reconciled to God. We cannot pray openly to God if we don’t believe–and confess– that this is true. God is not fooled by sweet talk or glib arguments. We cannot believe that Jesus’ atoning death and resurrection saved us if we don’t believe that it was necessary and good for Him to do so. And besides, confession is good for the soul!

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

1 John 1:9 (KJV)

Confession has a negative reputation in many Christian circles, and it is misunderstood in others. Just listing our sins or admitting we did something wrong doesn’t have any value without the positive confession that Jesus is “the way, the truth, and the life.” (see John 14:6) In fact, a better definition of Christian confession is this– agreeing with God about who I am (a sinner/imperfect/unable to attain Holiness on my own), and who HE is (perfect/Holy/Sovereign/the One who Loves me absolutely)

When we pray today, I hope we will confess– positively, profoundly, willingly, and whole-heartedly. I hope we will humbly and honestly confess any actions or habits that are interfering with our Christian walk. And I hope we will joyfully confess that Jesus is LORD; that we are trusting in Him to guide us, intercede for us, and give us the power to live more abundantly in this life, and throughout eternity. What a great way to pray!

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Elementary!

I love solving things–puzzles, mysteries, codes–I love finding the answer. It’s very satisfying. And I love reading mystery stories–Agatha Christie, Georges Simenon, Dorothy Sayers… But I have very mixed feelings about Sherlock Holmes. Always have had. I loved the intricacy of the mysteries themselves. They seemed impossible; unsolvable. Yet somehow, Holmes always knew the answer. And then, as he calmly explained how “elementary” it was, he would throw out details that no one else could possibly know without three doctorate degrees and a photographic memory.

I recently watched a series of TV episodes about Sherlock Holmes, and it struck me again. However, in our modern age, it is not so very impossible to become an expert on esoteric topics in almost no time. We have the internet, where vast amounts of information is available at the tip of our fingers. We can find facts about nearly everything, everywhere, at any point in history. We can virtually track people, visit places, experience adventures, and yes, even solve mysteries– all without leaving our couch. And while there are numerous dangers of relying on information found in cyberspace, there is no denying the easy availability of it.

One of the things I like about most mysteries is that they show the triumph of good over evil. Mysteries tend to show us, not only the impact of evil in the loss of life or property, the suffering of victims, and the need for vigilance, but the longing for order and knowledge and safety that we hope someone can “solve.” A good mystery story ties up all the “loose ends” and answers all the burning questions– “Who did it?” “How?” “Why?” By the end of the story, we feel victorious and safe and satisfied.

But reading mysteries or solving puzzles can give us a false sense of safety and knowledge. In real life, there are many unsolved puzzles, unanwered questions, and “cold” case crimes with no resolution. We are left asking “Why?” and “How?” about many of the things that have happened in our lives. And the answers are not “elementary”– even for the most intelligent among us.

As an adult, I read (and watch) the Sherlock Holmes mysteries with a different mindset. I know, from past experience, that Sherlock Holmes will always outwit the criminal. And I will probably learn some little-known fact– likely one that I never needed to know–that may be astonishing. But I am more interested in the character of Sherlock Holmes himself, now. Likewise with many of the other detectives I enjoy reading about. Because mysteries involve the triumph of good over evil, they attract writers who study the ongoing fight between the two. Mysteries often involve complex machinations, intricate plots, many-layered characters, and misleading information.

And the detectives are often equally complex and many-layered. Their startling intellect and deductive skills leave us in awe. Yet, they also have human frailties that lead them to overlook key clues or lead them to take risks beyond what we would consider wise. And many of them wrestle with the concept of good and evil–they are often tempted to take the law into their own hands, or to do something illegal in order to bring a criminal to justice. Thus, the reader is left with another mysterious question– just what is “Good” or “Evil?” Are there times when, in order to do “right” we may need to do something that others consider “wrong?” Can two “wrongs” make a “right?”

Some of the best detective characters are almost god-like in their ability to ferret out evil. But they are constrained in their ability to defeat evil. They are, in the end, human. Even Sherlock Holmes, with his arrogant assumptions and dizzying deductions, cannot wipe out evil; cannot keep it from touching and even ruining lives. In fact, as Sherlock Holmes (and others) discovers, intelligence is often a key ingredient of evil. “Stupid” criminals are easy to catch. The great detectives are needed to find the brilliant masterminds of evil; the ones who would otherwise go undetected and unstopped.

The man who created Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, was an agnostic and, in later life, became a spiritualist. He wrestled with the concepts of good and evil and particularly with the concept of how a “good” God could allow evil to exist. He was skeptical of the existence of the Biblical God, but instead believed in the continuing existence of the human spirit after death. He believed that the battle between good and evil was left to mankind to solve. He, like his famous character’s sidekick, Watson, was a medical doctor. He was a man who worshipped science– a man who valued facts above all. In fact, the stories of Sherlock Holmes offer us what seems to be a triumph, not just of good over evil, but of facts over faith.

Today, we celebrate the triumph of faith and facts over skepticism and arrogance. Jesus, unlike Sherlock Holmes, did not come to the earth to “solve the puzzle of evil” by bringing individual human criminals to justice. He did not brag about His great intellect, though He dazzled the Jewish Priests of His day with His knowledge and understanding of Scripture. Jesus had no fixed address. He did not write treatises or analyze dust samples– He created nature; He had no need for further study! His disciples did not write about Jesus merely because He did miracles. They did not write about Him in order to become rich or famous. Instead, they were martyred and exiled. Jesus did not put an end to the corruption of the priesthood under the Pharisees and Sadducees. He did not break the yoke of the powerful Roman Empire. He died on a wooden cross, hung between two criminals, after being convicted in an illegal trial, and a farce of an appeal to Pilate. He was flogged, taunted, pierced, and buried in a borrowed tomb. He was, by all appearances, defeated by evil and death. He lost– by human standards and appearances.

But faith tells us that God is Good; that Jesus is God; that Good triumphs over evil. And the facts bear out our faith. Yes, Jesus died. It was recorded, affirmed, and witnessed. But that wasn’t the end of the story. He rose again. There is no body in the tomb. There are witnesses to His post-crucifixion appearances. There were witnesses of his ascent into Heaven. His disciples died for their testimony and continued faith in the face of persecution, torture, and threats. And believers over the past two millennia have lived and died in the faith. We are witnesses of His power to redeem, to restore, and renew lives.

The events of Good Friday and Easter present the ultimate mystery. Jesus, Son of God, Messiah– eternal, all-powerful, all-Good– became a sacrifice for us. He allowed Himself to be an innocent victim of Evil for our Good. And in doing so, He didn’t just “solve” a puzzle– He defeated the power of Evil once for all! We don’t have to know more than the enemy. We don’t have to chase down and outwit death. We don’t have to be terrorized by the threat of evil, the weight of our guilt, or the power of the grave. All we have to do to defeat the evil in our lives is to trust in the work of the Risen Savior and follow Him.

And that is Elementary!

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In My Heart There Rings a Melody

As I edit this, the sun is shining and melting the last of an early spring snow. It’s been a mostly pleasant day, and I’m writing this in anticipation of a pleasant week ahead. This will post on Monday morning– a brand new week, hopefully filled with new opportunities and adventures. Of course, not every day is like this. Some days are dreary, full of stress and anxiety, and filled with challenges and even tragedies. But I have been thinking about a song I learned in childhood, one that has blessed me over the years and helped me on many a dreary day, as well as on days like today.

“I have a song that Jesus gave me,
It was sent from heav’n above;
There never was a sweeter melody,
‘Tis a melody of love.

I love the Christ who died on Calv’ry,
For He washed my sins away;
He put within my heart a melody,
And I know it’s there to stay.

In my heart there rings a melody,
There rings a melody with heaven’s harmony;
In my heart there rings a melody,
There rings a melody of love.

‘Twill be my endless theme in glory,
With the angels I will sing;
‘Twill be a song with glorious harmony,
When the courts of heaven ring.

On days like today, it is easy to sing a happy tune– sunlight, shimmering snow and icicles, viewed from my nice cozy perch by the window–but the joyful song that Jesus brings rings through good days and bad; sorrow and stress; triumphs and failures. It is eternal and filled with the limitless Love of God. It is a song of peace that passes all understanding, and a confidence that sees beyond circumstances.

Sometimes, when life seems devoid of light and peace, it has less to do with our actual circumstances, and more to do with our unwillingness to look up from them. Throughout the Old Testament (and even in the New Testament) people would create songs as part of their worship–some songs celebrated God’s provision and protection; others spoke of His character and His faithfulness. But these songs weren’t just for celebration and services of worship– they were used to remind us in good times and bad, that God’s love never changes. The same God who brings victory and miracles will be with us in times of despair. The same God who sees us in our most desperate hour of need is there with us when we are enjoying a beautiful sunset.

Today, I pray that we would take a few moments, find a song or a Psalm, and just sing a prayer to our maker. It doesn’t have to be a peppy song of praise– it may even be a song of yearning or anguish– but let it be a song that rises above our day and finds the ear of the One who loves us better than anyone else. It doesn’t matter if you can’t carry a tune; God listens to the heart! Sing the song that Jesus gives to you today. Your heart will be blessed. And it will bless the very heart of your Maker, as well.

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Surprise!

Have you ever been the “victim” of a surprise party?  Maybe you sensed that something was “up”, but you were still shocked and elated to see old friends or family all wanting to wish you well on (or near) your birthday, anniversary, wedding, retirement, or even “just because”.  Even if you “catch on” or if someone “spoils” the surprise, it can be a wonderful celebration.  (Or, on occasion, a disaster.)

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Have you ever been on the planning side of a surprise party?  Several years ago, we threw a surprise birthday/retirement party for my father.  It required several months of planning.  We invited cousins from out of town, co-workers, neighbors, and old friends.  We gathered old pictures and mementos to display, ordered cake and balloons, and tried to keep the excitement under wraps, lest my father guess our intentions.  All the details fell together, except we couldn’t figure out how to get him to the party without guessing.  Dad was a genius at “sussing out” secrets and surprises, and also at setting them up.  We wanted to turn the tables and give him the best surprise of his life.

Then, less than a week before the party, my aunt (my mom’s sister) died in a car accident.  The funeral was arranged for the same day as Dad’s celebration.  We suddenly had to wrestle with a decision– to cancel or to forge ahead.  With so many coming from out of town, we decided to stick with the original plan.  It would be difficult– my aunt’s funeral was scheduled earlier in the day, and there would be about an hour to drive from one event to the other.  Dad was certainly surprised–already dressed in his best suit, he drove from a funeral in one town to a party in his honor 20 miles away.  From flowers and tears to laughter and cake…it was a day unlike any other.  The first several minutes were surreal and jarring.  But it was also cathartic.  As difficult as the day was, we honored both my father and my aunt.  Being surrounded by family and friends, some of whom joined us for both events, became a healing and encouraging experience.
It was not the surprise we expected–certainly not the surprise we had planned.

chocolate cupcake with white and red toppings

Several years later, (in fact, after my father had passed away) we planned another surprise party– this time for my mother.  Mom had, of course, been part of the planning (as well as the trauma) of the first event.  As with the first party, we invited family from out of town, ordered cake and balloons, gathered photos and memorabilia, and wondered how to get her to the event without suspicion.  All went as planned, and we had a wonderful time.  Mom was delightfully surprised, and even more so for having been through the experience of the prior party.

What does any of this have to do with prayer?
Well…we prayed for both parties.  We prayed that all would go well, that Dad and Mom in their turn would be surprised, that guests would arrive safely, and that the parties would both please and honor the recipient. God answered both prayers. His ways are not our ways– but He is eternally good. He gave us strength for each day in its turn, in the midst of surprises– pleasant, painful, and both together!

But, far more, the two parties offer an illustration of God’s grace in the area of knowledge and foreknowledge.  “If I had only known…” is a common phrase, and one that we could readily apply to the Dad’s party.  But if we had known the end from the beginning, would we have changed our plans?  When we say that we want to know the future, we’re generally asking to know a specific outcome of a specific event– without considering the greater consequences and impact of that outcome.  When we pray, we generally pray for a specific outcome, again without knowing the full consequences.  What seems like a disastrous outcome to us may be God’s way of preparing us for an unexpected blessing.  God doesn’t send bad gifts– disasters come (and God allows them in His sovereignty)–but He doesn’t send disaster and pain to mock us or ruin our lives.  Instead, in the midst of tragedy, He gives us unexpected strength, comfort, and sometimes, even joy.

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If we had known that Dad’s party would be shadowed; that my aunt would die so suddenly, we might have given in to despair and bitterness.  And though the party brought unexpected comfort, it did nothing to erase the overall grief of my aunt’s passing.  But we learned so many things that day.  We were reminded that our time with Dad was precious– that life itself is precious– in a solemn and powerful way.  We were able to receive comfort from unexpected sources.  We would not have shared our tragedy in such a public way with those who did not even know my aunt.  But circumstances forced us to do so, and in the process, we were able to continue to honor her in the celebration.

If we had known all that would happen at Dad’s party, and not seen it through, we might never have risked planning a party for Mom.  If we knew in advance all the joys and tragedies we would face, we would never learn how to trust God for the next step in life.  Even more, we would live in constant dread of looming tragedies and negate all the joy of discovery and wonder.  We might not be driven to take risks if we already knew their outcome, and we might not learn from our mistakes if we already knew their consequences…and because our lives are so short, we might only see the short-term consequences, and never see the ultimate outcome.

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God is above and beyond time– He is the creator of all things, including time.  He has decreed for us a beginning and an end to life on earth, and He has decreed that we should life our lives with a certain amount of suspense– of not knowing what the future holds.  It holds both triumph and tragedy– trial and temptation.  Life is filled with surprises– catastrophes, ecstatic joy, and “a-ha” moments–as well as peacefully uneventful moments to reflect and enjoy.

As we pray today, we can be thankful that God’s knowledge is perfect, and that His power is sufficient to hold us in the midst of shock, lift us in the midst of tragedy, and surprise us with joy along the way.  And we can ask Him to grant us the wisdom to trust Him fully when we don’t see the end from the beginning– or from the middle–of the storm.

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When God Doesn’t (Seem to) Answer…

Prayer is a conversation with God. But sometimes it can seem like a one-sided conversation. We have pressing needs for healing, or strength to bear up under stress or oppression. Sometimes, we pray for our loved ones’ struggles against addiction or wrong choices. And God seems silent.

Sometimes, it’s better to get an answer we don’t like than no answer at all. When I was younger, I prayed for a family– a dream family with a handsome husband (preferably wealthy), three adorable and well-behaved children (I already had names picked out..), and maybe a beloved family pet, all living in a beautiful house with a big back yard, and maybe a small woods. I waited and prayed; prayed and waited. When I was in my thirties, still waiting and praying, I found out that I have several health problems– none of them life-threatening, but they mean that the chances that I would ever have had children are slim to none. I would never have the pleasure of watching my own children grow up; never know the joy of having a little voice calling me “mommy.”

But God had not abandoned me. In my careers as a teacher and a children’s librarian (careers I had begun before I knew I couldn’t have children of my own), I had the joy of working with hundreds of children across a spectrum of ages, from nearly newborn through college! My memories are filled with a choir of voices calling me Miss Toney or Miss Lila (as I was known then). God had not closed the door on my dream– he had opened a window.

It wasn’t the answer I had hoped for, but it was an answer. However, I was still single. I didn’t want to be single. I didn’t feel it was what God wanted for my life, yet He didn’t seem to be listening or giving me any sign that He heard or understood. There was only silence. No promising relationships– only a few scattered dates over the long years–a few budding friendships, and many lonely days and nights.

There were many helpful friends and family with suggestions, ideas, advice, comforting thoughts, or “explanations.” “God is waiting for you to become more mature in your walk with Him.” “God is saving the best for last.” “You’re too picky (I was never quite sure what that meant in light of the scarcity of dates, but…)” “You need to ‘get out there’ more–have you tried on-line dating? (I did. It was ‘meh’..).” “You should change jobs– single men are not hanging out at the library.” “You should change churches– find one with more single men.” But God stayed silent through my thirties and into my forties.

I did take some of the very good advice I received. I signed up to do short term missions trips. I traveled when I could, with family and friends, and even on my own. I read and went back to college. I spent time in the woods and at the beach, meditating, singing, or just enjoying God’s nature. I got “involved” in various volunteer opportunities. I joined the church choir. And I continued to pray.

By the time I was squarely in my forties, I had decided to stop praying for a husband, to stop hoping, and praying, and seeking, and dreaming. And God said nothing. But I began getting phone calls from an old friend– someone I had known in childhood–in fact, the very first boy I had ever dated, nearly 30 years before! At first, I listened to his voice-mail messages, but didn’t return his calls. I was annoyed, and even a bit angry. After all this time, was God laughing at me? Did He really expect me to go all the way back to the very beginning and start over?

David and I on our wedding day.

Finally, I let go of my pride, and my ancient dream– I decided to give David a chance. Maybe it would lead to another (renewed) friendship. Maybe it would be another disappointment. But it led to a new dream. It led to marriage, and a huge extended family, including David’s wonderful children, and three adorable (and mostly well-behaved) grandchildren. My husband is kind, and honorable, and Godly. He is a treasure. And God’s timing is perfect, even as it is mysterious. God didn’t withhold marriage as a bargaining chip to get me to “grow up,” or grant it as a “reward” for going on a couple of mission trips. God was silent–but He wasn’t absent. He saw every teardrop, rejoiced in every busy child-filled day at work, smiled at every snapshot of every natural wonder, every Teddy Bear picnic, every Bible School. He want along on every date, kept track of all the hundreds of books I read over the years, and hovered over the dinner table set for one every night. I committed my life to serving Him– whether I was single or married, alone, or surrounded by children. His ways are higher, and better, and wiser than mine.

I may never understand why God allowed me to travel the roads that have been set before me. And my roads could have looked much different. I could have married young, unaware of my barrenness, and ended up bitter and feeling guilty about my body for years before I was diagnosed. I might have had a child (or children), and become proud and controlling and fearful. I might have made idols of my “dream” husband and family.

I know many dozens of people who are praying into the “silence” and waiting for God’s answer. Some are praying for healing. They may pray for days in the hospital, only to lose their loved one. They may pray for weeks or months, as their child battles chronic illness. They may pray for years as they battle depression and loneliness. God may seem silent. But He is never absent. His ways sometimes lead to a happy ending in this life. Sometimes, they lead us to have greater understanding and compassion for others. Sometimes, they lead us to unexpected purposes and goals– adventures beyond what we have ever dreamed of. Sometimes, they lead to a legacy that we cannot see this side of death. He does not promise us the answer we want, when or how we want it. He doesn’t promise us an easy or “happy” answer on the road ahead of us in this life. What He does promise is that He will never forsake us. Long after we have been tempted to give up, to doubt, to turn away, God will still be waiting– sometimes in the silence– for the perfect moment, the perfect justice, the perfect word, the perfect solution.

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