Thanksgiving Greetings

"I will give thanks to Thee, O Lord, among the peoples;

And I will sing praises to Thee, among the nations.

For Thy steadfast love is great, above the heavens;

and Thy faithfulness reaches to the skies.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;

and Thy glory above all the earth."

Psalm 108

Thanksgiving greetings and love to all our family and friends!

Best Birthday Present Ever!

 Next to my family, my Bible is my most treasured possession. It was given to us as a Christmas gift, the second Christmas after we were married, by my parents. It is a black leather New American Standard Bible. And that is the basic information.

But there is so much, much more.

All the memories it contains. This scribble was done by a 1-year old Julie who got hold of a pen, and I wouldn't trade that page for anything.

This is the inscription from Christmas 1972, which I love because seeing my Mom's handwriting warms my heart each time.

This particular Bible became 'mine' as the insurance man prefers King James version and has a brown leather one for his purposes. This Bible is so marked up with underlines in various colors, stars, scribbles, notes and tears. As the beloved Bible began to show it's age I chose to ignore it, continuing to use it daily but finally gave up on taking it on trips with me. The binding separated from the pages and was hanging by a few threads on the left side. The insurance man urged me to find a bookbinder on line and send it in for repairs. There were three things wrong with this idea to my mind. First, I couldn't bear to part with it for the months it would take. Second, I didn't want to trust it to the postal service to get it there and back. And thirdly, I didn't want to pay the cost, as I knew it would be expensive. So, I just kept ignoring the problems with a pang of guilt every time I opened it.

Last week was my birthday, and the insurance man came in for lunch holding my Bible and looking like the cat that just ate the canary (Cheshire grin). I asked why he had my Bible, and started to worry that I had left it at church. He laid it on the table, and said no I hadn't left it anywhere. Due to being extra busy, I had been reading from the Pilgrim Prayers in the mornings and had not missed my Bible. He had quietly taken it and had the binding all fixed locally in three days, and it only cost $30! What a surprise, and what a delight. That was truly the best birthday present I ever had. And a complete surprise, not easy to accomplish!

 

 

It Is In The Valley...

                  VALLEY OF VISION

"Lord, High and Holy, Meek and Lowly,

Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see Thee
in the heights; hemmed in by mountains of sin,
I behold Thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox:
that the way down is the way up,
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess all,
                                                        that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
                                                       that to give is to receive,
                                                       that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells, and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine. Let me find Thy light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow, Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley."

Taken from 'The Valley of Vision' a collection of Puritan prayers and devotions.

Fighting Cultural Aesthetic Relativism

"The world may believe there’s no standard for beauty, but the Word says otherwise."

"My view is this, that there are, however difficult they might be to define and to wield, that there are objective standards for quality and beauty, including quality and beauty in music. I do not buy the lie that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But rather, there are standards of excellence, standards of beauty. That is why the Scripture calls us in the Psalms to play excellently, to play beautifully before the Lord. And I think that we have done the world a disservice when we have rolled over on this issue, when we have embraced aesthetic relativism.
Isn’t it odd that Christians are rightly, jealously fighting against epistemological relativism, the idea that there is no true or false, and fighting that same good fight against ethical relativism, arguing that there is no good and bad. We are arguing that in fact there is, and that God is the standard. And yet when it comes to beauty, the third great virtue, which is an end in and of itself along with goodness and truth, beauty we are willing to concede is in the eye of the beholder. Well, I am willing to concede that—as long as we understand that the beholder is God. When He says to bring our best, when he calls us to worship Him in the beauty of holiness, we had better not say “beautiful to whom?”
Friends, let’s be careful about the cultural bromides that we find ourselves swallowing. We Christians, of all people, who worship a God who is three-in-one, complexity harmonized in the ultimate beauty, should be defenders of the objectivity of beauty."
Dr. RC Sproul Jr

I receive a podcast most days from RC Sproul Jr, and since this blog is dedicated to God's beauty in the world around us I decided his quote this morning was worth a repeat here. As a piano teacher and lover of music, I have wrestled with this issue for several years in the field of music. However, it is repeated in all aspects of the Arts in our culture. Hope you will join me in the fight against cultural aesthetic relativism.

On the Death of Mother, Anne

Today is the day we switched from opening windows for cooler air in the evenings and at night, to opening windows and doors for warmer air in the mornings. A touch of the next season is upon us.

Elias Pitzer Williams was the insurance man's great, great grandfather, and a pioneer of Oregon. He led a fascinating life, and I have written a series of stories from his life, and have decided to share them here occasionally. The following is story #2...enjoy!





On the Death of Mother, Anne



 

     Ten year old Elias hurried through the house and up the wooden stairs to mothers' bedroom. His steps slowed with anxiety as he approached the opened door. A small oil lamp was burning low on the table beside her, and she lay against several pillows, hardly making a dent on the mattress, so small and frail she looked. The red, green and yellow quilt she had made for her marriage covered and engulfed her. She heard him and turned her head so that her big eyes looked full at him. The love in her eyes pierced Elias' heart as he rushed to her and fell on his knees. He laid his head on her quilt, and his tears dripped slowly.

     "Mother...mother...," he choked out.

     "Hush, Elias," she soothed, her voice little more than a whisper. She lifted her hand weakly and placed it on his cheek.

     "My first born, my only son," she breathed out with a sigh. "How I have loved to see you grow, and I am proud of you. I wish to tell you what large burdens will be on your shoulders. You must help father to  take care of your sisters and help him to bear the sadness."

     "Mother, I will help him, you know I will. But how are we to stand the sadness?" He raised his head to hear her answer. 

     "Elias, son, God has given us this good land, our good family, and His blessings. We can trust Him now in the hard things."  

     "But I will miss you so," he sobbed into her hand, even as the thought crossed his mind that he should be too old for crying.

     "Will you get my bible, son?" she asked, her voice faint.

Elias stood while brushing his cheeks, and wiping his eyes. He looked around the room for her small Welsh bible, and saw it lying on a table beneath the window, in a patch of moonlight, beside a low burning candle. Picking it up he felt the soft, worn leather in his hand, and returning he brought it to mother before sinking to his knees once again. 

 

 

     "Elias, find Romans chapter eight, from verse twenty-eight to the end, where it says God has good plans for us."

Elias had to lean close to her lips to hear her words. Turning frayed pages he found the verses she wanted. He looked at her, and her eyes encouraged him. She wanted him to read them to her he knew, as he had often done before. She had taught him to read Welsh, her native tongue from this little book. 

     "And we know, that all things work together for good..." his voice left him as he wondered how her sickness could work for good, and he waited, until presently he tried again.  

     "to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." She nodded, and he continued slowly reading the words until he finished chapter eight with "neither death, nor life, nor angels nor things present, nor things to come, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." He looked up at her.

     "Do you really believe this?" she asked him. "Do you believe that God has purpose for me and you?" Elias struggled for an honest answer.

     "Mother I do believe, but I don't understand the sadness. It hurts too much to see you sick and weak, and know you are leaving us."  

Elias closed the little black bible, then got up and sat beside her on the edge of the low bed, picking up her work-worn, blue-tinged hand. Mother spoke only a few words at a time between short breaths. 

     "You are my big son now, and must find faith and strength to believe. The words say that nothing shall come between us and the love of our God, and nothing will come between our love for one another, not even death. God will go on being good, and I will be safe, with Him. Remember forever that I have loved you, but God loves you more, and He will be with you. It will be your choice now to trust Him."  

     She moved slightly, and motioned Elias closer. Slowly, she brought her arms up around his neck, and Elias buried his face in her shoulder, feeling the sharp bones press into him. They stayed together for long moments until her arms dropped away.  

     "You must take my bible," she whispered into his ear. "Father will have the big family one." She closed her near hand over his on the lined leather. 

     "Read it and love it and think of our good times when you do. Now, please Elias, to send father in."

Elias got to his feet, his face wet and his nose running. 

     "I love you mother," he said one last time before turning away and walking to the door.

     He quietly closed it and carefully holding the precious bible, he went down the narrow stairs, feeling a painful knot tight in his chest. After telling father that mother wanted him, he ran outside into the blackness. The darkness of the night matched his insides. He was no longer hunger, he just wanted to be alone.

    After a time he found his way to the barn. Putting the bible down on some hay, he went back to the unfinished work of brushing down Rob, their big work horse. He put all his strength into each stroke, trying to work out the knot in his chest. He felt some comfort in the familiar routine. When all the horses were contentedly munching on forkfuls of fresh hay, Elias slid to the packed earth floor and sat for some time with his head between his knees. He heard the barn door open and felt father sit down beside him. Only soft animal sounds and the occasional creaking of barn wood disturbed the quietness between them.

     "Son, yer mother has gone," father said, choking on the words as he said them. Elias remained silent, burdened by his own pain.

After a while, father got up and went back outside. Elias finally gave in to his grief and lay on the floor sobbing until he was cried out. Sleep found him there, and held him the rest of the night.

     The next morning Elias woke at daylight, as bright rays of sun picked their way through cracks in the barn walls. Someone had put a blanket over him in the night, probably father. He all-too-quickly remembered that this day would not hold his precious mother in it, but he also felt his empty belly growl with hunger. He sat up and reached for mother's bible lying next to him in the hay. Looking around he saw a good hiding spot between some cream cans on a wooden shelf. After safely tucking it behind one, he started on his chores. Although he was hungry, he knew it was too early for breakfast to be ready. Somehow doing what he always did helped him not to think or feel. Father did not appear, and that made everything strange, because he could not ever remember a time when father was not doing chores alongside him. When he was through with the chicken house, he went to the pump to wash up. His sister Mary came out and stood beside him. She didn’t speak, but just looked at him with her soft brown eyes, as if waiting. He dried his hands, and then put his arms about her. They communicated and shared their pain without saying a word.
     Resolutely they turned, climbed the stairs and entered the kitchen. His Aunt Carys was busy over the stove, and his cousins Drystan and Brin, along with Elias’ younger sisters, five year-old Martha Claire and two year-old Cecelia, were already eating at the table. The girls were too young to understand that their mother was gone for good, but the feelings of grief about them had subdued the children. Aunt Carys turned to Elias and Mary and told them: 

     “Yer fadder has gon to tak car of things, and yer ta eat nohw. Yer modder will lae in da box in da parlor later, an folks will be comin. Yer ta cleen up and be widd yer fadder.”

     Aunt Carys’ Welsh brogue was thick, but they both understood. Elias had a feeling of dread rush over him at the thought of seeing mothers' body, and he quickly sat down. He ate his porridge rapidly, filling his empty stomach, and  thought his Aunt Carys a good cook. He guessed they would not be going back to the farm for a few days, and that his uncles would be there taking care of the work. After finishing her breakfast, Mary rose to clear the table and clean up the little ones. Elias turned and escaped back to the sky, trees, and sun.

     All day people came and went from the house. The parlor and kitchen were full of food and people. One of his aunts took Martha Clair and Cecelia to her house, while Mary helped to provide for their guests. Just before supper Elias came back to the house, knowing father expected him, and went upstairs. He changed into clean church clothes, then went to the barn and got down mother’s bible. He held it, and sat on the back steps. He ran his finger over the well-worn cover and thought of her giving it to him. He decided he would keep it with him no matter where he went. It would be his connection to mother. Father came out the back door to find him.

     “Elias, son, you must come in to see Mother, and pay respects.”

     “I don’t want to see her gone,” Elias told him.

     “I know, but you will have to trust me tis good, and will do yer good,” Thomas replied as he sadly and knowingly laid an arm across Elias’ shoulders.

     “Death is a part of life, and yer need to learn of it. God is wise and takes as He gives. Come now.

     Father led Elias through the crowded kitchen to the parlor. There were only a few folks standing there, and the wood coffin seemed to entirely fill the room. Thomas left him, knowing Elias needed to be alone to grapple with death. Elias slowly approached, and felt himself gasp as he viewed mother’s face. She was so peaceful and pretty, the way he remembered from when he was younger. Suffering had left no marks, and her pain was gone. Tears started to choke him, but he swallowed them down. He was done with crying. He walked nearer and studied her face, trying to etch every detail onto the slate of his memory. He stood there for a long time, not wanting to touch her, not wanting to feel the difference. He desperately wanted her to open her eyes and smile at him with her special look, to get up and hug him, but he knew that would never happen again. He wondered what it would be like for her now in heaven, and if she could see him here with the body she had left behind. That thought brought a small easing of the knot inside, and he somehow knew he could carry her with him. In the end he clasped his hands and bowed before mother, showing his respect and love. Acknowledging the finality, he whispered his good-bye and walked across the room. Father came up to him.

     “Elias son, I am sending you to the farm tonight to do yer grievin’ there. I know how ya love the farm, and I will be there in days to come. Yer Uncle will take you after supper. Work hard, I am counting on ya.”

     Elias was glad to be going. Now that he had paid his respects to mother, and was carrying her in his heart, he wanted to be away from this room, from sickness and death, and this house. He went upstairs, changed back into his farm overalls, then went to the barn and retrieved mother’s bible. It was his bible now, to carry with him always.

 

In memory of:

 Anne Goodwin Williams

       1819-1847

 

 

                            

         

         

         

         

         

Grateful Praise

 

"Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

this our hymn of grateful praise.

 

For Thyself, best gift divine,

To our race so freely given;

For that great, great love of Thine,

Peace on earth and joy in heaven.

 

Lord of all, to Thee we raise,

this our hymn of grateful praise."

 

Folliott S Pierpoint

 



Surely, Surely He Hath Borne Our Griefs.

"He was oppressed and He was afflicted,

yet He did not open His mouth;

Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,

and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,

so He did not open His mouth.

 

By oppression and judgment he was taken away,

And as for His generation, who considered

that He was cut off... out of life

for the transgression of my people to whom the stroke was due?

 

His grave was assigned to be with wicked men,

yet with a rich man in His death;

although He had done no violence,

nor was there any deceit in His mouth.

 



 

But the Lord was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief.

As a result of the toilsome labor of His soul,

He will see light and be satisfied.

By His knowledge the Righteous one, my Servant,

will justify the many, as He will bear their iniquities.

Therefore, I will allot Him a portion with the great,

and He will divide the booty with the strong,

because He poured out His soul to death,

and was numbered with the transgressors.

Yet He Himself bore the sin of many,

and interceded for the transgressors."

Isaiah 53: 7-12

The Iniquity of Us All....Fell on Him

"Who has believed our message? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot and like a root out of parched ground. He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him,

nor appearance that we should desire Him.

He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. And like one from whom men hide their face, He was despised and we did not esteem Him.

 

Surely, our sickness He himself bore, and our sorrows He carried;

Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities,

the chastening for our peace fell upon Him,

and by His scourging we are healed.

All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way.

But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him."

 

Isaiah 53: 1-6

Circle of Life

 "There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every purpose under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1

I have noticed over the twelve years or so that I have been home full time, and basically free from parental obligations, that it would be easy to lose focus or purpose in my life. I have watched as many other women have struggled with depression, illness or have even lost their way after their children have left home, or they have retired from a rewarding job.
 I was thinking about this the other day and there doesn't seem to be many books written on the subject of older women, but not yet elderly. What is it they seem to need at that stage of life? I know for me, I need a purpose, a focus and to feel needed. It seems many loose this after their productive child rearing years are past. Ecclesiastes has a lot to say about the different stages of life. In the beginning of chapter three is a familiar passage that encompasses several items we struggle with in our 60's, 70's and 80's. It states that there is a time to build up and a time to tear down, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to keep and a time to throw away.
I was visiting with an older lady friend last night who has just moved from her spacious, beautiful house into a small apartment in a retirement center. She has embraced the idea that there is a time to build up, a time to plant and prosper and a time to keep. She is now in the stage where it is her time to uproot, tear down and throw (or give) away. It struck me how graciously she is doing that and finishing her race well. I know that we each have individual personalities, and each of us handles things differently, but the sadness and depression I have seen seems universally present.
There is a circle of life, and it does no one good to mourn over the part of the circle that is no longer yours. Finding a purpose in this newest phase of life is key, and the primary purpose of course is to love God and enjoy Him. Secondly, I have made it my purpose to lovingly take care of my insurance man and provide him with good food, good company and clean clothes (among many other things). Ecclesiastes also states: "Enjoy life with the husband whom you love all the days of your fleeting life which He has given to you under the sun, for this is your reward in life." In my case I am home alone most days as the insurance man plans on many more years of working in his career. I do not have a retired husband in the home, and many women at this stage of life do have parents to care for, a husband at home at least part-time, an adult child living in the home or even a disabled family member present. Their purpose should be clear. But for women who do not have family to care for, this is the time to find ways to serve God and continue to enjoy life.
God has given me a renewed passion for music, and God has rewarded me with piano students to share my love of piano with. This has been good for those who can't afford music lessons as well as for those who can. But, I know that I am the one who gets the most blessing and rewards. It provides me with grand kids when my own are far away. It provides me with people (Moms and kids) to interact with on a weekly basis. It brings laughter and chatter into my quiet house. It keeps me from being too selfish with my time. It makes me continue to learn in order to teach well. It makes me feel NEEDED. Here are last years students after a spring recital, and I have added two boys and two adult women to the roster this year.

 

One other thing that keeps me fulfilled, is working with my interests. I am not just sitting around during the days watching TV or other unproductive choices. I love to scrapbook, mainly along with my interest in family history. I am creating wonderful scrapbooks for my family of the people and stories that have gone before. I love to do handwork of all sorts, and am usually making gifts from sweaters for new babies, to
embroidered pillowslips for wedding gifts, to birthday surprises. I have time to sew for my granddaughters and time to spend talking with all my daughters. All women at this stage need interests and hobbies to keep them busy and productive.
There are always health challenges during the older years, but being kind to ourselves in allowing rest times and a slower pace helps.
And finally, I find great contentment in doing what God places on my plate. It's seldom easy or expected but always rewarding. We continue to have a big house, for now. It has been our conviction that as long as God allows us to live here we will share it. And share it we do, as God brings many, many people through our doors. Some months it seems that we have a revolving door. But that is a ministry that I can do while being home and while the insurance man works. There are so many things God will bring into a woman's life when we listen and follow His plans. These priorities have brought beauty and purpose into my life and I hope will bring the same to other women. If beautiful God-honoring living has been the foundation of your life, the new phases will reveal that foundation ever more clearly as things (health, possessions, family) are slowly stripped away, and once again we return to simplicity before walking into our final phase of life with Christ.

Paying Tribute

 

Today I want to give recognition and tribute to Rev. Syd Brestel, a man who has been our spiritual human shepherd since 1980. Tomorrow our church will host a farewell to Pastor Syd as he retires from the role of lead teaching elder, and I was asked to sort and digitize all their photos for a slide show. I thought it would be fitting to share a few special ones and memories here.

 

Syd grew up as a farm boy in Sydney, Nebraska, the son of Gerald and Helen Brestel. After high school graduation, Syd left for Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, and the above photo was taken as Syd graduated from Moody with a pastoral degree.

 

 

 He met his future wife Mary at Moody and they were married in 1963 at her home church in Marion, Ohio.

 

 

 Syd took his first job after college, as superintendent of the Christian School at the First Baptist Church of Marion, Ohio. He went on to become the Pastor at a small church in Pulaskiville, Ohio which experienced God's blessing and growth during Pastor Syd's tenure. God blessed Syd and Mary with two boys during these years, Daniel and Dathan, and they stayed in Pulaskiville for ten years.

 

 

 God then led Syd to Western Seminary in Portland, Oregon to complete his Masters of Divinity. While going to school he agreed to become the Pastor of a small church (about 80) in a large building, Powellhurst Baptist.

 

 

 This is Pastor Syd preaching on his first Sunday at Powellhurst in 1979.

 

 

Pastor Syd, Mary, Danny and Dathan in 1979.

 

 In 1980 the insurance man and I moved our family to Portland in search of work for him. The insurance man visited Powellhurst for the first time while I was back in Burns finishing packing, and was impressed with Pastor Syd's preaching. The morning he visited, the church was exercising church discipline, a difficult thing, which the insurance man also appreciated. as it was done scripturally and well. Syd and Mary invited him home for dinner after finding he was alone, and that began our 34 years of friendship. The next four years were precious to us as the church family at Powellhurst became a very close-knit group, forming many life-long relationships.

 

Pastor Syd graduated from Western Seminary in 1982, and continued as the Pastor and shepherd at Powellhurst. In 1984 the church members decided to look at building a new facility, as Fred Meyer had approached them about selling the old building and property. Due to God's gracious working, we were able to find property just a few blocks away, and build a large modern building debt free. Pastor Syd oversaw this effort, and was busy one Saturday working on some interior finishing on a scaffold. The scaffolding gave way and Syd fell straight down 22 ft, shattering an ankle, and sustaining many serious injuries. God was gracious and his life was spared for further ministry. After surgery, a long stint in the hospital, and much rehabilitation he was again able to rejoin his church family and preach from a wheelchair. (Over the years, Syd has had several surgeries on his ankle along with an ankle replacement, and has suffered from the consequences of his fall, but it rarely slows him down. Most recently he hiked South Sister in the Cascade Mountain range with his grandson Kyle.)

 

Meanwhile, our family left the Portland area in 1984 to again look for work. We came back to Powellhurst for the dedication of the new building that year, and I just found this precious photo of Julie with Pastor Syd. He is still walking with a cane, but is no longer needing a wheelchair. Pastor Syd and Julie were friends, and he liked listening to her 'chatter'. She looks delighted to see her friend Pastor Syd again.

 

In 1985 the insurance man and I moved to Bend, Oregon and began attending First Baptist Church here. Fairly soon, First Baptist needed a Pastor and the insurance man and I found ourselves on the pulpit committee to search for God's man for our church. We were amazed when God led in such a way that Syd felt firmly called to Bend, and moved his family and became the Senior Pastor here. He has served God and us well, faithfully preaching the Word of God in Bend for 23 years.

Two of our dear friends from Powellhurst came to visit when Dathan got married, and this is a photo of Mary, Debbie and I.

 

Pastor Syd has married two of our girls, and this is Julie marrying Peter in 1997 at our church.

 

Here is Pastor Syd with the insurance man. Pastor Syd  not only married our daughters, he also married my Dad to his second wife Janet in 2000, here in our home.

 

 

This is Pastor Syd as he looks each Sunday, preaching the word and celebrating communion.

 

Above, Syd and Mary in 2005....

and below celebrating their 40th anniversary with us in Branson, MO.

 

 

Pastor Syd has participated in many short term missionary trips, the most recent in 2012 to Uganda and the Bible College there.

 

As Pastor Syd 'retires' he is looking forward to a slower pace, filling the pulpit where needed and teaching at a Bible college here in Bend. He also would love to go on more mission trips as his health allows.

Farewell for now to this good and faithful servant, that the insurance man and I love and appreciate with all our hearts. God has been so good to provide us with truth in Syd's preaching and teaching all these years, a truly invaluable gift.

Sowing and Trusting

Mark 4:26-27

"And He said, 'The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground and should sleep by night and rise by day, and the seed should sprout and grow, he himself does not know how....'"

My minister-husband pointed these verses out to me the other day.  The sower himself does not know how the seed should sprout and grow.  I liked how this was highlighted in these verses in Mark.  

We sow constantly.  We sow good seed or we sow bad seed, but we are always sowing.  When we obey God's Word we sow good seed.  I have been much more aware of trying to intentionally sow good seed lately.  The seed I have in mind, specifically, are kind words, works of sacrifice and service, listening and considering another's point of view.  Basically, loving my neighbor as myself.  BUT, then comes the temptation to wonder if it's doing any good.  Results are not always evident.   

I appreciated this reminder that, the sower doesn't know how it grows.  But it does.  God brings the increase.  And He will bring it in whatever way He sees fit.  I must just keep sowing and trusting and sowing and trusting and sowing and trusting.  In due time, there is sure to be a good harvest and I am sure to see it.

The Hand of God

Saturday morning I came to this Psalm in my regular Bible reading time. I am currently reading a psalm-a-day plus reading a chapter or two in Ephesians. I once again poured over this most beloved of psalms and found great refreshment. I remember thinking: whenever I get something very encouraging from scripture, God is sure to bring it to mind all during the following week, almost to emphasize it or underline it in my thinking.

Well, it didn't take long. Our dear friends the Barkers were here for the week-end, and the insurance man went to the store early Sunday morning for some more green beans. On his way home, he found himself listening to an old Lutheran preacher from the 1950's on the AM radio station ESPN (usually all sports, and at this time of year, all football!) The old preacher was dishing out some wonderful theology regarding, you guessed it, Psalm 23. The insurance man didn't know about my reading it the day before, so at breakfast he began to tell us of finding the unusual programming and what he had heard. We all chuckled when I said that the Lord had put the program there just for him to hear, and would probably bring Psalm 23 to mind some more.

We got to church, and almost the first thing in the service, Psalm 23 appeared on the screen, with our worship Pastor making some remarks on it and having us recite it. I got a few elbows in my ribs from both sides.

Last night as I crawled into bed, I thought: how can anyone NOT believe there is a God? His hand moves so very obviously in the everyday lives of people. His hand is there for all to see, in all our smallest details, quietly and wonderfully leading us in His paths of righteousness.

"I bow my knees before the Father (and ask),

that He would grant you,

according to the riches of His glory,

to be strengthened with power

through His Spirit in the inner man;

so that

Christ may dwell in your hearts

through faith,

and that you,

being rooted and grounded in love,

may be able to comprehend with all the true believers,

what is the breadth and length

and height and depth (of Christ's love)

and to KNOW

the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,

and that you may be filled up

to all the fullness of God.
To HIM be the glory to all generations,

forever and ever, Amen.

St Paul to the Ephesian Believers: Chapter 3 verses 14 to the end.

Trusting and Not Fretting

I've been reading in the Proverbs lately. There's so much there to convict and instruct. This verse struck me particularly:

"The foolishness of a man twists his way,

And his heart frets against the Lord."

Proberbs 19:3

There are several things in my life, that I know are the will of God, that I am still fretting over. As soon as I read this, I was convicted, asked for forgiveness, and let go of the anxiety. I foolishly twist my own way instead of trusting that's the Lord's way will be straight.