True Grit

When I worked at the hospital, I would go into a patient’s room who was watching cowboy movies, and I would wish I was home covered in a fluffy blanket watching them myself. From a distance they looked so uncomplicated, but I can’t say they were really all that relaxing as I watch them now, since in just one episode, several people were shot, hanged for stealing a horse, or dragged by a horse until they were nearly dead. Oh, and how could I forget the cattle stampedes that mangled some poor cattle driver in a deadly accident, or was it really an accident?

I will say it took grit to go out west and deal with all the danger and very uncomfortable conditions. Many people risked their life picking up their belongings and putting them in a covered wagon and heading west. Indians on the warpath caused a constant fear, but still there is grit. Even so many even died before they arrived at their new home.

How many of us have “grit”? Are Christians supposed to have “grit”? It made me wonder if this is a good thing or bad.

There is that scripture that comes from 2 Corinthians.

“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength, with God, making all things perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”  2 Corinthians 12:9.

The question now is, “Can we have this weakness and still have grit?” Can we be tempted to be proud when we have what some say is grit? First, I don’t think weakness is self-loathing or feeling downtrodden, but a realization of who we are in Christ. It is knowing who we are and who we are not. We are not God and to see that next to him we are weak is our invitation to humility.

 The definition of grit usually includes such words as courage, strength, and passion. Perseverance and dedication round out the characteristics of a person with true grit.

I think Paul is one who had true grit, yet he knows he is weak, according to scripture. After Paul asked for God to remove his “thorn” he realized that weakness gives us a dependence on our God. When we think about grit did Paul himself have grit? We all know he persevered through his trials, persecution and finally execution. He was determined to spread the gospel to Gentiles all the while his face was set toward Rome where he would be tortured and die. In Christ Paul had true grit that might have been born out of weakness.

If we take a look at people who are known for having grit there is one thing they all have in common. Think of Paul! Before Paul could have grit he had to have a passion and Paul’s passion was Jesus. When we have a passion for winning souls to Jesus it might start with a fear or weakness to testify about our journey to finding Christ. In this passage, he is saying that through your weakness, strength comes forth from our Lord. It is a God given grit or determination to do the will of the Father.

Have I waited for Jesus to turn my weakness to grit? Does the power of Christ rest on me?

Happy Trails to You!

 

Teach us to Pray my King

Teach Us to Pray My King

 

For my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty. (Isaiah 6:5b NIV)

Sing praises to God, sing praises; sing praises to our King sing praises for God is the King of all the earth; sing to him a psalm of praise. (Psalm 47:6-7 NIV)

 In 1956, I had a little girl friend I played with when I was eight years old. We played dolls, school and jump rope, but there are two things I most remember about her. One was we watched Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan Show at her house. Squealing, our little eight-year-old hearts stopped as we danced to the beautiful voice of the handsome idol. The second memory was going to Bible School with her one humid summer night. I climbed up into the car and my friend and I giggled all the way as little girls are prone to do, even in the dreadfully hot car. They led us to a stuffy room with other second graders who all sat on tiny colored chairs with just the right sized table for little kids. A pleasant lady, who patted my shoulder as she passed, handed me a piece of red construction and another piece of gray paper. They put the glue in the center of the table, along with crayons, to copy what she wrote on the blackboard. These words would become the most important words that I had heard in my young life. For the first time, I learned I could pray to God. The friendly teacher read from the bible that Jesus' friends asked him to teach them how to pray. I wondered why these men would ask Jesus this. Did they notice a difference in Jesus after he had talked to the God of heaven? "Teach Us to Pray" she had written in perfect cursive, on the board as the story unfolded from the worn bible of the one who held it. "You and I too can talk to God,” she said with such love in her voice. I glued the sheets together and cut lopsided lips to finish my masterpiece. I left that little room knowing that I could talk to God. As soon as I could, I tried out this promise they gave me that evening. Most of my prayers started like a letter, "Dear God, " I would begin. The hot evening ended with a singing of "Jesus Loves Me" which also rang out as a testimony about this new friend I had found.

I guess my faded piece of paper with "Teach Us to Pray" must by now be 65 years old a genuine antique in anyone's book. The brittle, faded paper, takes me back to the most important lesson I ever learned. 

Praise you, my Dear God for looking at a wee girl and giving her the most wonderful gift. It is funny in a way that my young heart was stopped by a king that sang "Love Me Tender" but was blessed eternally by the King of Kings who tenderly taught me to pray.

 

 

 

Hands

 I have always been fascinated with hands. I remember my mother-in-law looking at her hands amazed at how they had gotten so old. Her skin was fragile, thin, and discolored, and up next to the hands of a younger person they could indeed be considered old. I remember a four-generation picture taken of Kellan, my grandson, my daughter Mendy, myself, and my mom. Along with the typical picture of us all, our hands with my mom’s hand on the bottom and our sweet Kellan’s baby hand on top was taken.  Quite telling I thought. Where had those hands been in the span of time they had been on earth? Baby hands that had barely touched life along with hands that had soothed babies, been held by toddlers, and hands that had embraced grown children in their time of need. These hands had greeted those around them with a friendly handshake or a happy wave to a neighbor. Many times I had looked at the hands of my patients when I worked at the hospital and found that hands now old and maybe twisted from years of arthritis when young were once very productive. As our eyes see a helpless old soul unable to care for themselves, we need to remind ourselves that those hands once touched their world for good. 

It was the hand of Elijah’s servant who measured the cloud of hope, the bible says the cloud was the size of a man’s hand.

It was a time when my heart seemed to reflect the hopelessness of the headlines in my media feed. I have been praying for a revival or what some call a “Great Awakening of the church,” in this country for some time, but on this dreary day, as I looked at the world, all I could see was rampant sin and a non-essential church. The thought I had was that the world is upside down. The right was called wrong, and wrong was called right.  A bible verse in Isaiah came to mind as I pondered this discouraging thought.

What sorrow for those who say that evil is good and good is evil, that dark is light, and light is dark, that bitter is sweet and sweet is bitter.

Isaiah 5:20 NLT

Can you think of anything more descriptive of these times than this verse? Troubled at the absolute truth of this verse, I was led to a story in 1 Kings 18th chapter. It is a story of Elijah, who was praying for rain in a drought brought about by disobedience of the people.  Elijah went on top of a mountain and began to pray. As he prayed, he sent a servant to look for clouds approaching that would indicate rain was coming. After six trips, no clouds were seen on the horizon of Elijah’s prayers. Have you ever felt this way? No hope in sight? But as the weary servant looked into the sky the seventh time, he ran back to the praying prophet to report that a cloud the size of a man’s hand could be seen rising from the sea. This verse gave me hope that, indeed, prayers were being answered for the newness of hearts and people again would be on fire for God. Hope, as big as a man’s hand, could be seen rising in my heart too. The hope of an awakening of God’s sleeping church flooded my heart. Thoughts came to mind of the evidence that God’s work had already begun in this world despite the sinfulness.   The Church Triumphant is alive and well as one of my favorite songs goes.  At the report of the cloud, Elijah’s hope is evident when he told King Ahab to go home before the floods came. Beware, everyone, get your umbrellas, you too will get a drenching with the blessing that will flood this world as God’s people wake up! As we dozers see the light of Jesus in the hearts of the people of this country, we will know that God still reigns. A Great Awakening is coming.

Finally the seventh time, his servant told him, “I saw a little cloud about the size of a man’s hand rising from the sea.” “At the same time I see revival of young people all over the country.” Then Elijah shouted, hurry to Ahab and tell him, climb into your chariot and go back home. If you don’t hurry the rain will stop you.  1 Kings 18:45

It’s beginning to rain as the Holy Spirt touches the lives in our fallen world. “Holy Spirit Rain Down” a contemporary song of our time.

In What Shape is your Palm Branch

 In What Shape Is Your Palm Branch?

 

Palm Sunday brings memories of my kids being in the “throng” of children that waved their palm branches as they marched around the church sanctuary.  Their voices rang out, Hosanna in the Highest.  The angelic look on their faces would make any parent proud unless you dared to think about what would become of the crisp green palms following the parade.  Those objects of worship would become swords to defeat their third grade Sunday school mate, or a weapon for the girls to  swat those yucky sixth grade boys with.  These beautiful palms were abused in every manner after the worshiping was done.

 

As we start the Passion week, I thought of our Savior entering Jerusalem, not on a grand steed but a lowly donkey.  I see his children waving palm branches and throwing their coats down for Jesus to ride across.  The spirits were high as they shouted Hosanna but before the week was up their praise turned to hate.  They would use their tongues of worship to curse the Son of God.  These, His children, would forget about the Triumphal Entry and call for His crucifixion.

 

So many times, I am drawn into the same frenzy that the people were in that day.  I love my Lord and after a viewing of “The Passion” on TV or a wonderful service at church my spirits are high but what happens to my palm branch after Palm Sunday?

 

I’m sad to say that sometimes, my worship branch is torn to shreds by the cares of this world.  We go back to our jobs, our families and the hassles of living life in this fallen world.  The economy is still bad, our neighbor’s daughter is still dead from a car accident and our family member is still fighting cancer.  

 

Though life sometimes gets in the way of our worship, I am glad to report that the Savior who rode a lowly donkey colt into Jerusalem is still in the business of loving us.  Whether the world or I wave palm branches or not, He is still the same.  He is not diminished by our lack of worship.  He is the same today, tomorrow and forever!  The bible says He hears our cries even after our palm branches fall apart.  I love this scripture from Psalms.

 

Psalm 34:18

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

 

Because of His great love I can’t help but wave my pitiful palm branch in worship to the King of Kings.   

HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST IS WORTHY OF PRAISE! 

In What  Shape Is Your Palm Branch?

Tutu Wearing Angel

 Tutu Wearing Angel 

 

This is my second day home from South Carolina where my daughter lives and I have done nothing but rest. Keeping up with a young family takes a toll on an old woman like me. We stayed up one night until 2:00 am watching a movie. I haven't seen that time unless it’s when my old lady clock in my head goes off that says it’s time to get up.

 

  We were there to help with the house they moved into that needed some sprucing up. Our pregnant daughter, Missy, was to get some much needed rest and watch after our granddaughter Jenna. Did I say rest and Jenna in the same sentence? Oh, my mistake! This little girl, at three years old, is a live wire! She is in constant motion and nonstop "WHY"! But for Larry and me, she was nonstop "DELIGHT"!

 

  One thing that we loved was, when she entered a room, we never knew what she would be wearing. Usually, a tutu was a part of her outfit and a hat. She normally avoided wearing a top, but considered something around her neck just as good. The problem came when Jenna had to get dressed in something more suitable for going out. On those occasions, I will have to admit, she was..... shall I say, less than cooperative! In fact, the word carnal comes to mind. My daughter, who has wisely learned with this delightfully independent child to pick her battles. She often said, "Jenna, if you choose to disobey there will be consequences!". At that, my beautiful little granddaughter would cross her little arms over her chest and state, "I don't want no consequences!". She wasn't saying she was ready to obey, she was saying she wanted to disobey with no consequences. Somehow, I see myself many times taking this childish stance with my Heavenly Father. I can recall those times I knew what was right but chose my own way. I folded my arms and said I want my own way, forgetting the possible adverse consequences. Have you been there? Did you ever get your "tutu" in a bunch and refuse to mind God?

 

Larry and I are still talking about our Jenna, not only her bouts with carnality, but her sweetness, her charming smile that lit up a room and her love for her grandma and grandpa that gave us so much joy!

Long Drive

 Long Drive

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart, I have overcome the world. (John 16:33 ESV)

 

When Mendy, my fourth daughter, was a little girl, she had one special little friend that happened to be a boy named Brad. Dolls were not usually her thing but crawling around in ditches with her friend trying to find the enemy suited her fine. She always came in dirty from the day of playing with the scent of the outdoors on her clothes. I didn’t know what she and Brad talked about, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t cute boys and cool shoes. One summer day while playing with golf ball and clubs, she came into the house bleeding but not crying. When asked what happened, she told us they were hitting the golf ball around in the yard and Brad accidentally hit her with the club in the face. Investigating further as we drove her to the hospital for stitches, she explained, I was too close to him because I thought he was going to putt, but he decided to drive.

I have certainly been there in life when I thought there was going to be a putt, but a drive hit me right between the eyes. We have all been there when a steady job was no longer there after many years of employment. When your once Christian child took on the opinions of the world and broke your heart. We, as a family, have felt the pain of an unexpected turn of events. Our daughter Missy was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma and has fought for three years to be cancer free. Hallelujah she is healthy and living life with her family enjoying every minute. Recently, our gun-slinging, worm catching, dirty faced tomboy received news of cancer as well. Again, she wasn’t expecting a drive. 

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart, I have overcome the world. (John 16:33 ESV)

As I considered these words, they drew me to the word peace in this verse, as it is often lacking when a putt turns into a drive. Our English language does not catch the true meaning as it was written in scripture. The expression peace or shalom means not merely a lack of turmoil, but also the notion of positive thinking or right standing with God. Another rendering is, “all is well” in one's life.

When I was a new Christian, I thought that life would be, as scripture says, “all is well.” We even sing “It Is Well” and if any verse in the bible said contrary, I ignored it. Life has taught me many lessons all these years later. The verse in the English Standard Version says we will have “tribulations”, the New Living Version says, “trials and sorrows” while the New International Version says we will have “trouble.”

I have known troubles, tribulations and more descriptive than the other versions, trials and sorrows have been mine. 

Yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. (John 16:33 NLT)

Take heart! Because I have overcome the world even when a putt turns to a long drive.

The Big Doors and the Ragamuffin Gang

 

 

My maternal grandpa, Charlie Camp was a bit of a character who divorced my grandma when my mom was just five a teenager. He was not your typical grandpa with hugs and kisses but was an occasional figure in my life. We had our annual picnic at his house and Christmas Eve was a given. I do remember that he told me I was pretty and told my mom in front of me that I would be Miss America someday. I believed him too and waited but no beauty pageant was ever in my future. He always had nice things in his house and my rowdy brothers made things tense when we visited. I remember a visit when my grandpa and his wife had just gotten a new couch typical for the fifties. It was bluish gray with silver threads that made it sparkle in the sun. My brothers had been outside rolling down the big hill in his yard and when they sat down, leaves and mud was deposited on the new bluish gray couches and a trail of footprints starting at the front door made their way through the house.

On one occasion, my grandpa and his wife wanted to take us to church on Easter Sunday. I don’t know if they were regular church attenders or not but this Sunday we were going. They took us shopping for new clothes a few days before Easter, I am sure we would have been ragamuffins without the new Easter outfits. I wore a new dress with one of those fancy coats and my twin brothers sported new suits with checkered bow ties. 

We were quite spiffy in our new duds as we approached the huge doors of the uptown church. The towering doors opening was the last thing I remember about that Easter Sunday. I do not remember a Sunday School class with other children and a friendly teacher, or treats to welcome us, my memory is blank past the doors. I cannot remember ever wearing the new dress again nor did I ever see the checkered tie that decorated my brother’s necks. I wish I could remember more but it is not there. I do recall an awkward conversation many years later with my grandpa when I thanked him for taking us.

I wonder if as an adult, I sometimes do the same? If new dresses, suits and bunny baskets occupy my   day more than the reason we celebrate. Sometimes I am guilty of thinking about the ham and sweet potatoes baking in the oven and the special preparations for the Sunday meal? Will other things deprived me of tender moments when we can almost see Christ and know HE IS ALIVE. Can I raise my hand in praise as we sing, “Christ Alone?” As we began praying for our Easter service at church weeks previous, our prayer was always that Jesus would be seen, heard, and felt by the congregation on this special day of reverence. In holy remembrance of the Resurrection of our Christ on which our hope is fastened I pray our hearts will linger in wonder past the doors of the church. HE IS ALIVE, HE IS ALIVE! HALLELUJAH! HE IS ALIVE!