The Powder Room

The Perfect State of Comfort

2012-01-24T17:34:00.000-06:00

Last September, my husband and I traveled to the north part of our state where we stayed in a Bed & Breakfast. It was our first experience with a Bed & Breakfast and I was a little nervous about it before we arrived.

Part of my nervousness resulted in the fact that in researching our trip, I had read multiple reviews on many different places to stay in many different cities, especially looking at B&Bs because of their affordability. Some of the reviews gave the picture of innkeepers that ranged from creepy to downright disturbing. Then we received an offer for the one we finally chose that was too good to refuse. I scoured their website, read all their reviews and looked carefully at each picture. Even though everything I read and saw gave me every indication that this was a wonderful place, I still had some apprehension and wasn’t sure of what to expect.

Perhaps it’s simply because I am basically a shy person and being in a new situation with new people always makes me feel uneasy. Thankfully, my husband has never in his life met a stranger. We arrived at the beautiful house which was to be our home for several days and the innkeepers, a lovely couple about our age, gave us a tour.

Every aspect of the house and the grounds were arranged with comfort in mind. There was not anything that we would have wanted that was not there – well perhaps weather warm enough to get in the pool, but the innkeepers were not in control of the temperature. This B&B was misnamed “Longing for Home,” because not once during our stay did I long to be home. It was such a relaxing and comfortable few days, I truly hated to leave.

I think there are those that have the same feeling toward heaven. In their minds, they know that heaven will be the most wonderful glorious place. Although they have read the descriptions in the Scriptures of the streets of gold, the gates of pearl, all the wonders that will astound us when we are there they still have the inkling they may somehow feel awkward or out of place.

From the first moment we arrive, however, we will only know the “perfect state of comfort”. Everything we see, everything we hear, everything we touch will fill us with joy and comfort and peace. More importantly, everything will point to us of our Lord Jesus Christ and be a true expression of Him. There will not be anything which will not enthrall our hearts and lead us to grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ.

There is nothing that awaits us in eternity that should give us the least moment of anxiety. As my husband often says, “For the Christian, there are great days ahead.”

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,

neither have entered into the heart of man,

the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9

God "With Skin On"

2012-01-10T13:01:00.000-06:00

A story is told of a little boy who is afraid to go to sleep at night. His father, in an attempt to comfort and encourage him, tells him, “God is with you everywhere.”

The little boy determinedly says, “I know, Daddy, but tonight I want God with skin on!”

There are times in each of our lives when we need to see God "with skin on” …times when the Lord clearly provides for our needs or encourages us through the very human tool of His children.

I want to tell you of a story of such in our lives.

Our daughter is a studying photography in college. Her pictures are very dear to her.

In November she had to put her camera in the shop to be repaired. This was no simple repair and no ordinary camera. Hers is what I affectionately call a “stalker camera”. It’s one of those big-bodied cameras with big lenses used by people who take serious photographs.

This repair was serious because that big lens had a tiny chip on it and our daughter needed it repaired before she traveled to England and Italy for a month. She sent the lens off for repair hoping it would be returned in time for her trip.

A few days before she was to leave the country she found out her lens could not be repaired. I spoke on my daughter’s behalf to a very nice gentleman at the store who assured me she only needed to come to the store and “pick out a new camera.” I asked if she should ask for him if she encountered any problems and he replied, “Ma’am, anyone who has any problems with this shouldn’t be working here.” I am now convinced it was his first day on the job!

About an hour later I received a phone call from a very distraught daughter. Not only had “someone had problems” with her picking out a new camera, but she felt as if she had been humiliated as well. My husband and I met her at the front of the store and she told us her story. It took all of about 10 seconds of my husband talking with the clerk – the same woman our daughter had so much difficulty with – before our daughter was walking through the store to pick out her new camera.

She picked out the replacement camera, then we found out it wasn’t in stock, it would have to be shipped from Atlanta. We were concerned about it being delivered in time, but the sales clerk assured us it would arrive before her flight on Wednesday morning. He told us it would come with the UPS delivery on Tuesday afternoon at the latest. He didn’t assure me once, he told me three times. Then when we finished the final paperwork, the cashier said, “No, it won’t be there Tuesday, it will be there by Monday!”

You know where this is going, don’t you?

Monday came, no camera. That’s ok, they said it would be here by Tuesday.

Tuesday afternoon came, no camera. Since it was the Christmas season, occasionally UPS makes two rounds, maybe it would come later.

Tuesday night, no camera. Disappointment does not begin to describe our daughter’s mood.

We had all been praying she would have the camera for this trip and it would have been a marvelous answer to prayer for a package to show up Tuesday night, but God had a much better answer in mind.

That Tuesday night we had a meeting at the Rescue Mission with our dear friend, Steve. Afterward we were telling him the story of the camera and he said, “You know, I’ve had to go out there to the UPS site and pick up some things before – actually get them to get it off the shelf. Why don’t you send me the information on it, and I’ll go by in the morning and see what I can do?”

Steve was there about the same time as the sun the next morning and “happened” to be there just as one of the drivers was walking in for his shift. Steve explained our dilemma – which he had now adopted as his own dilemma – and within a short period of time, the man came out holding Emmie’s brand new camera. We were able to take it to the airport to her just as she was checking her bags.

Emmie was elated.

She said having the camera made her trip “7000 times better”. Our oldest daughter calls Steve a “Super Hero” for this. I think of him as an example of God "with skin on.”

It would have been nice to have the package delivered by a UPS man on Tuesday, but how much better to have it delivered by a dear friend whom both my daughters love and respect. Once Steve made himself available, God could do the rest.

Often when we pray for others, we may be the vehicle through which the Lord wishes to help answer the very prayer we have prayed. . .if we will make ourselves available. Then the person receiving the answer to prayer is blessed and we are blessed as well. The Scriptures tell us that He “worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure.” For our world, we must choose to exist as “God with skin on”, to be available to the Lord for whatever He wants or needs us to do and then to trust Him to do the rest.

Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus,

that Great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant,

Make you perfect in every good work to do His will,

working in you that which is wellpleasing in His sight,

through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever.

Amen.

Hebrews 13:20,21

His Desires More Than Ours

2011-12-14T06:19:00.020-06:00

I think of this scenario every year about this time.

I am a teenager, perhaps sixteen or seventeen and it is Christmas. My father is going to give me money with which to go Christmas shopping, but he has a twist on the request. I must write on a slip of paper how much I am requesting. He writes on his own slip how much he is willing to give me. The twist is that he will only give me what is on my slip of paper, regardless of what is on his, only I don't know that at first.

I only remember once my father did this to me. Once was enough. I recall feeling a dilemma about what to put on my paper. I didn't want to ask for too much, but I wanted to ask for enough to buy all the presents I wanted to buy for my parents, grandparents and siblings. Oh, and my friends, too.

I thought about it for a while and finally wrote down my number. He had written his down immediately. I handed him my slip of paper, he looked at it, nodded his head and said, "I'll give you that much."

Then unfolding his own piece of paper, he said, "Now see how much I was willing to give you." His amount was much, much more than the amount I had written down. I knew my father well enough to know that no amount of pouting, cajoling or begging would result in the additional cash being removed from his wallet, so I didn't even try. I learned a valuable lesson that day about my father, one that eventually transferred to my Heavenly Father.

My father was willing to give me so much more than I thought he was. . .he was willing to give me more than I was willing to ask for. I underestimated his desire to please me and to meet my needs. Isn't that true of what we often believe of our Heavenly Father as well? I heard a preacher say once, "God desires to answer our prayers more than we desire to ask them."

So many times in my life this has been true. I have been unwilling, unbelieving perhaps, or maybe just afraid of being presumptuous - as I was with my earthly father that afternoon -- to ask for the really "big" things, to ask for those answers to prayers that we really desire. . .but our prayers are His delight and He wants to answer all our prayers that are in accordance with His eternal purpose in Christ Jesus.

So let us approach our Heavenly Father with the assurance that it is His "good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

"Delight thyself also in the LORD;

and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

Commit thy way unto the LORD;

trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass."

Psalms 37:4,5

Included in Him

2011-12-12T12:11:00.000-06:00

Once a month a group of us go to the Rescue Mission in the downtown part of our city for a church service. Three of us lead the music, one gentleman preaches and the other two or three gentlemen come to meet with the men there and offer their support.

When we arrive at the door, we are required to sign in. Last month, John, the gentleman who preaches, was signing in first. When someone else motioned toward the book to sign in, the man at the book said, "The rest of you don't need to sign in because you are all included in him," motioning toward John. Because we were with John, we were accepted to come in on his behalf. His signature granted us admission.

This picture is so clear throughout Scriptures, as in the story of Noah. God told Noah to build an ark and said that He had established a covenant with Noah:

"But with thee will I establish my covenant; and thou shalt come into the ark, thou and thy sons, and thy wife and thy sons' wives with thee."

Those that were with Noah -- as we are with John each month -- were accepted to come into the ark, not because God had established a covenant with them, but because of His covenant with Noah. They were accepted on Noah's behalf. Noah was accepted and they got to go along because they were considered part of Noah.

Once we accept the Lord Jesus as our Savior and Lord, this is also true of us as well. We are "found in Him" and because we are found in Him, we are "accepted in the Beloved" according to Scripture.

When that great day comes for us to stand before our maker, there will be no need for us to plead our case as to why we should be admitted into the realms of Glory. . .we will simply be told that He is enough for our admittance. The nailprints in His hands and the mark of His Spirit upon our hearts will be more than enough, no other ticket will be needed.

How glorious that as the old hymn declares, "Nothing in my hands I bring, only to Thy cross I cling," He has done it all, provided it all, and now waits to usher His children in to a long and glorious eternity.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

which according to His abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively hope

by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible,

and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you,

Who are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation

ready to be revealed in the last time."

I Peter 1: 3-5

Only One Evening

2011-11-14T11:19:00.001-06:00

“He went to Pilate, and begged the body of Jesus. Then Pilate commanded the body to be delivered. And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.” (Matthew 27:58-60)

“And there came also Nicodemus, which at the first came to Jesus by night, and brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pound weight. Then took they the body of Jesus, and wound it in linen clothes with the spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury.” (John 19: 39, 40)

It was a tiny little body, easily fitting into the palm of my hand. He wasn’t as tall as my cup of coffee and weighed only three ounces. And he was perfect.

Perfect miniscule fingers, perfect tiny toes, beautiful little lips, flawless miniature eyelids. . . every detail present and perfect. Except that those little lungs would never breathe the smell of a rose or freshly cut grass. The little hands would never throw a baseball or bounce a basketball. The little feet would never be tickled or run around bases. The eyelids would never flicker in sleep. The eyelids of this little boy only knew the sleep of death.

I cradled his perfect little lifeless body in my one hand as I washed it with baby bath, to give him the “baby smell” mothers love and babies aren’t born with. Then I carefully dried the fragile skin, lest it should tear from the effort of drying.

I took his tiny little feet and made footprints for his parents, little footprints only as big as the print of my little finger, as a remembrance that this child was. I put footprints on handkerchiefs for the grandmothers who would always remember the grandson they could only hold for one evening.

I dressed him in the tiniest of day gowns and wrapped him in colorful baby blankets. These tiny clothes and blankets are hand sewn by women of large hearts who themselves have had those hearts broken by loss. They sew clothes for the babies of others, knowing from experience how much it means to have a baby – no matter how tiny – dressed like a baby.

Then it was time for pictures. These would be the only portraits this child would ever have. I would have to roll baby pictures, kindergarten graduation, high school and college graduation and wedding pictures all into these few pictures. With each click of the shutter, I tried to make a memory for parents who would have none others.

When finished, it was time for our little baby to spend time with his family. This would be their only time with their son, their grandson, nephew, cousin. This would be the first and last time for them to love him.

When Joseph of Arimathaea and Nicodemus took the body of Jesus, and prepared it for burial, they must have had much the same thoughts and feelings. They must have believed that they would never again see, touch or hear the Lord Jesus. With what great reverence, love and respect they must have applied the mixture of spices and wound linen cloth around His tortured body. They must have believed this was the last act of love they could do for their Savior. Little did they understand that in three days their Savior would dispel the power of the grave and destroy the threat of death by rising from the dead.

In doing so, He offers hope to all of us that, with the Apostle Paul, we may shout, “O death,where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (I Corinthians 15:55).

The Impact of Love

2011-11-11T19:57:00.000-06:00

As I grew up, my Uncle Buddy was a part of every major event. He remembered every birthday, every graduation, every wedding. When he would call to speak to my father, his older brother, he would talk to me -- the baby of the family -- for twenty minutes, as though I were someone. In fact, Uncle Buddy always seemed to make everyone feel as if they were "someone". He and my Aunt Mary have been married as long as I can remember. They are two kind, thoughtful and loving people.

Aunt Mary always took care of Uncle Buddy, her children and everyone else who needed care. The two of them reached out their arms and their home to others to give love and support and shelter. Now Aunt Mary mainly takes care of Uncle Buddy.

Time has ravaged my Uncle Buddy's sharp mind and the man who remembered everyone's special occasions no longer recognizes any of us. But Aunt Mary recognizes him. She goes to the veteran's nursing home each day to feed him breakfast and lunch. She talks to him as she has for decades, sharing the moments of the day with him. She feeds him, bathes him, in essence, she loves him. She loves him as she has done for years and years and years.

Aunt Mary probably has little thought that the care and love she bestows upon her husband ripples past the room of the nursing home where he lives. But it does. It flows as a small stream flows to the river and the river flows to become the ocean. Her love, manifested in her faithfulness in being there, and her faithfulness in caring, has had a huge impact upon others. I know because they have told me so.

Last week I was present at a Men's Prayer Breakfast to sing with my husband. These men know that my father was one of the men who started the Prayer Breakfast and they know that Buddy and Mary are my Uncle and Aunt. Each week they pray for Uncle Buddy and Aunt Mary.

Before I left, man after man came to tell me of Aunt Mary's faithful love and care of Uncle Buddy and what a testimony it was to them. Their respect and admiration were apparent in how they told their story and in how important it was to relay the story to me, Buddy's niece.

While loving my Uncle Buddy is something my Aunt Mary can't conceive of not doing, her choice to do so, and to do so in practical ways, speaks volumes to those who watch her do it. Her love in those daily ways are an example to us all that love must be shown not only by what we feel, but by what we do.

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:

Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God:

But made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant,

and was made in the likeness of men.

And being found in fashion as a man, He humbled himself,

and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross."

Philippians 2:6-8

Remember Us

2011-11-03T12:23:00.001-05:00

Our son Noah will be leaving the country soon on his second deployment with the United States Marine Corps. His children, five year-old Jackson, and four year-old Emma, have been used to him going away for a weekend now and then for what they call “Marching”.

Last week, our son sat down with Jackson to tell him that he would be going “Marching” for awhile, and that he was going far away. Upon hearing the news Jackson, who has just begun to learn to write in kindergarten, asked his daddy for a pencil and a piece of paper. When Noah asked him why he wanted it, this was Jackson’s reply:

“I want to write down my name and Emma’s name so you don’t forget us.”

As much as that comment wrenches my heart out of my chest, imagine how Jackson’s daddy felt. He quickly assured the little boy that he would never, could never forget him. Jackson has no idea how much his father loves him, thinks of him, and wants to be with him.

And neither do we. How often have we felt forgotten by our Heavenly Father? How often have we felt we needed to write our names down so He “wouldn’t forget us”, and yet our names are written on His very heart. The love that our son Noah feels for his son Jack is just a tiny shadow, a tiny picture of the love our Heavenly Father has for us.

He will never leave us or forsake us. He has given His most beloved to assure we can remain with Him throughout all eternity if we will only accept the free gift of salvation offered through His Son.

So the next time we feel forgotten by the Lord, let us remember that He isn’t our God alone, He is our Father and His love for us is greater than the love of any earthly father could ever be. His faithfulness “reacheth unto the clouds.”

“Be content with such things as ye have:

for He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”

Hebrews 13:5

Ayez la foi en Dieu toujours pour l'avoir nous avons tous

Have faith in God always for having Him, we have all.

A YES Through a NO

2011-11-01T12:21:00.000-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

This past weekend, Glen performed a wedding ceremony for a sweet Christian friend of ours. We had come to know her when she was in her twenties and in the ten or so years since then we have never completely lost contact with her. Glen was delighted when she contacted him and asked if he would perform her wedding ceremony, especially since her wedding was on his birthday.

Doubtless our friend, whom we shall call Mary, prayed for many years for the Lord to send her a husband who loved Him. I am sure that her husband, whom we shall call John, prayed a similar prayer for a godly wife. But the answer to John’s prayer for a wife came through a lack of answer to another prayer.

You see, John was trained to be a meteorologist. However, there were no jobs available for him in his field of training. Economic times being what they were, he took whatever work he could get and for him this happened to be selling shoes. Selling shoes at the very store where Mary sold china.

For five years John sold shoes and Mary sold china to new brides and nothing happened. Then one day, a mutual friend suggested they should date. And they did. And they did again, and again. Then they fell in love, and love led to a wedding.

Had the Lord not said “No” to John’s prayer for a meteorologist’s job, it may be that John and Mary would have never met, never have fallen in love and never have had such a beautiful wedding on the most gorgeous of October days. The Lord knew He needed them to have that shared bond of friends and work as a seed from which their relationship would grow. The “No” led to two “I do’s”.

The Lord knows not only the desires of our hearts, but exactly what it takes to bring about those desires, exactly what it takes to will and to do of His good pleasure in our lives. So the next time we are tempted to look a prayer which has for a long time had an apparent “No” for an answer, let us remember the beautiful picture of John and Mary standing at the altar. Our Lord sometimes says His best “Yes’s” in the “No’s.”

“Delight thyself also in the LORD;

and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

Commit thy way unto the LORD;

trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.”

Psalm 37:4,5

By the way, John and Mary will be living in Texas after their wedding because John is now working there as a meteorologist.

Heal me!

2011-10-22T15:42:00.000-05:00

“You are just the person I was waiting for! Heal me!”

These are the words I rasped out to my physician as she rounded the corner at work yesterday. After being sick for more than a week, I knew I needed more than I had to make myself better. I was powerless to accomplish any real change in my condition and she was the only one who had what I needed.

I felt like the leper who said to the Lord Jesus, “If thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean.”

I knew she could heal me because she has done it before. In fact, last year, she treated me for the very same thing in the very same way, except that day, she was the one that took me to the office for a shot of antibiotics and a shot of steroids.

Twenty-seven hours after having my backside filled with healing drugs, I am glad to say I am much, much, better and I can see a full recovery at the end of the tunnel.

All of us at some point in time are in need of healing – physical, emotional or spiritual, and we all need to reach to the One beyond ourselves who alone has the power to do so. There have been times of deep grief in my life, when my mother was dying of cancer, for example, that my heart was so full of pain all I could do was cry out, “Lord, help!” And like my kind physician-friend, He was there with His love and comfort and peace to heal my broken heart.

Sometimes it is a loss we are suffering. In fact, when I was suffering this week from my respiratory infection, I was also from a heart grief. My friend had not died, but our circumstances have changed to the point it is not likely we will be seeing much of each other, and not in the way we had hoped. Our situation and our expectations have been lost. We are grieving and we are in need of healing.

There is only One who is the Great Physician, the One to heal us wherever that pain, that loss, that ache exists. He knows our every sorrow and has been touched with our every infirmity in some glorious heavenly way we cannot understand. Whatever our pain, whatever our loss, we must take it to the out-stretched hands of the Lord Jesus who waits to heal our broken hearts, to ease our lost expectations and to fill us with the joy of Himself in ways we could have never imagined.

“The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion;

slow to anger, and of great mercy.

The LORD is good to all: and His tender mercies are over all His works.

He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.”

Psalm 145:8,9 Psalm 147:3

A Shovel, Loppers and a Broken Axe

2011-09-27T11:43:00.000-05:00

I don't really like azalea bushes.
Image by Getty Images via @daylife
That's not a good statement from a girl who lives in a city known as the "Azalea City," but let me qualify my statement. I like azalea bushes when they grow wild and free, as you might find them out in the woods. I do not like them when they have been carved into symmetrical boxes or rounded globes.

That is what prompted the removal of the azalea bush, or perhaps I should say tree, from the front of our house. It was nineteen years ago this week we moved into our house and I don't remember how tall the azalea bush was then, but it had grown to my height and nearly obscured one of our living room windows.

Now it is gone.

My husband, using his bare hands, a shovel, a pair of loppers and a broken axe, removed the huge bush. Most people when removing a 100+ pound root ball, choose to tie a rope to it and pull it out with a truck or a car, but not my husband. He did it with those strong arms of his. I sat in amazement watching as he hacked away at it. Surprisingly, the best and most frequent tool he used was the broken axe.

The axe blade was sound, but the handle was split in two. My husband completely broke the axe handle until it was more like a hatchet with one huge blade. He used that to free the tangle of roots entwined under the azalea bush.

What a wonderful picture that was to me of our Lord.

How often our lives present a tangle of twisted roots and thorns and all we have to offer Him is a broken axe. We look at the mess we have made of ourselves and doubt that the Lord could ever use us in any way whatsoever. Sometimes He must "break us" a little more before we can truly be useful, removing all that will not conform to His purpose. Then in His strong hands and through the power of His might, our broken little axe becomes a mighty tool to accomplish His eternal purpose, not only in our lives, put also in the lives of others. While we may often doubt our own ability, we must never doubt His.

"Being confident of this very thing,

that He which hath begun a good work in you

will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ:"

Philippians 1:6

"For it is God which worketh in you

both to will and to do of His good pleasure."

Philippians 2:13

The Feet Under the Table

2011-09-21T10:56:00.001-05:00

There were seven pairs beside my own, and they were all different.

One pair of sweet little feet wears clear Princess shoes. One small pair dangling from the chair wears tennis shoes.

Two large pairs meet the Scripture's description of "beautiful" because they are ministers of the gospel of Christ. One pair travels into the courtroom on heels to plead her case and fight for the rights of her clients.

One pair wears the boots of a Marine and can stealthily capture you without your knowledge, until it happens. The last pair wears heels or flip-flops and captures you with a camera lens instead.

Different feet, but all a gift. The most precious gift I was given the night of my birthday was to have these seven people, all of whom I love dearly, rest their feet under my table. To have my husband, all my children and grandchildren and our dear friend to share the evening with me was something I had desired so much and it gave me incredible joy.

There were gifts on the table --gifts I truly loved -- but the the best gift, the gift I will always cherish, were those feet under the table. As we bowed our heads for prayer before we ate, I thought of how blessed I was to have these very special, very wonderful people in my life. Each of them is so incredible in their own right, my heart was overcome with thanksgiving and love. There was no way I could come close to expressing what I felt that night, not then and not now.

As much as I feel emotion toward that experience, it points my mind toward another supper with another family, yet to come. There will be a day when the Lord Jesus shares a supper with His family and I know He is desiring that moment as we are.

Before the Lord's Supper He told the disciples, "With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer," (Luke 22:15). Now He waits, I believe with that same desire, to share the Marriage Supper of the Lamb with His children. Perhaps He waits to see all His children's feet under the table as I did that night, to have them all home, safe and under His wings. It reminds me of the last line in the hymn, "Brethren We Have Met to Worship":

Then He'll call us home to Heaven, at His table we'll sit down;

Christ will gird Himself and serve us with sweet manna all around.

"Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to Him: for the marriage of the Lamb is come, and His wife hath made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints. And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God." Revelation 19:7-9

User Error

2011-09-16T06:00:00.000-05:00

For three years I worked in my hospital's computer department. I had been "loaned" to them, much as one department loans another an IV pump or a pulse oximeter. It was a challenging and stimulating time during which I learned much that I use to this day.

One of my duties was to take calls from the nurses in the hospital on computer problems. Over fourteen
Image by utnapistim via Flickryears ago, our nurses were new then to computerized documentation and to dealing with computers on a large scale in their workplace. When one of the laptops they used for charting would not do what they wanted it to, I would often hear the same thing, "It's broken." No detail would be given because many of them just didn't understand it enough to give me any detail.

The great majority of the time when I heard this, the issue actually ended up to be what is called "User error". Which simply means the person using the computer did something wrong to receive the error message or lack of response they did. (I can't tell you how many times the problem was simply that the computer needed to be turned on.)

It was often impossible to convince the staff that "User error" could be the problem, however. They believed and expected the computers to break, to malfunction and to just be ornery and hateful to them. I learned it was futile to try to convince them of the "User error", so I would just go about fixing the problem. They began to call me even when I wasn't on call. In fact, even after I had stopped working in the computer department and returned to Labor & Delivery, one nurse in another unit called L&D one night to get my home phone number.

"She knows how to fix our computers," the frantic nurse told our L&D night shift nurse. I was so glad our nurse knew better than to give out my home phone number (which would have then been posted in nursing units throughout the hospital). She protected me and I appreciated it.

The nurses would have been much better off if they had adopted the attitude that the computer doesn't usually malfunction, that it isn't really ornery or out to get them. I have been able to help facilitate this attitude in L&D and I frequently hear "I don't know what I'm doing wrong" instead of "This computer is broken!"

Sometimes when we open the Scriptures we read things we don't understand or can't explain. We are so much better off if at the very beginning we confess to the Lord that we agree with the Bible when it says, that "The words of the LORD are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times," (Psalms 12:6).

We are better to believe the problem is not with the Scriptures, but with our limited understanding. I have often heard it said that the Bible is the only book which comes "with it's Author", and we know the desire of the Lord is that we understand and apply His Word to our lives. So if we find a passage that is difficult or confusing to us, let us follow the advice of the Apostle James:

"If any of you lack wisdom,

let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally,

and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."

James 1:5

The Bite

2011-09-15T06:00:00.000-05:00

It all began very innocently.

We had recently moved into our house and I was laying sod in a portion of our backyard. I picked up yet another square of St. Augustine grass, wiggled it into place and "Ouch!" I had been bitten on the back of the hand.

Living in the Deep South, I have had more than my share of fire ant bites, so I wasn't too concerned, I just went back to my sod. Within a few minutes, however, the ant bite once again began to command my attention. My hand was unusually uncomfortable in my glove and removing it, I was startled to see it swollen remarkably in only a few minutes.

My hand ended up swelling up a couple inches. It took more than one dose of Benadryl to stop the swelling, and it was a couple days before my hand returned to normal. Once healed, I did't give it another thought. I should have.

A few months later, we went to the beach on vacation. Once we arrived, our children were anxious to be in the pool, so we unloaded our suitcases and took them for a swim. We had noticed the carcasses of bugs floating in the water, but we weren't aware they were fire ants -- I didn't know any ant but the queen had wings. (Apparently, during the spring and summer, winged fire ants go on mating swarms. Shortly after mating, the male dies and the female becomes the new queen flying from 100 feet to 10 miles to start a new colony.)

We entered the pool, trying to avoid the "bugs". Then, "Ouch!" I felt a burning bite to my hip. Obviously not all the carcasses were of dead ants.

Within a minute or two I was on fire. My scalp was burning, my hip was burning and I had this weird uneasy feeling. Thinking perhaps I had gotten some chemicals on my hands, I went to the hotel room to wash off. Before I could make it to the room, I started itching all over. Not a friendly, mild itching, but a serious, frantic type itching. I took a bath and thankfully had the presence of mild to take some Benadryl. I believe that was the last of the "presence of mind".

By the time I stepped out of the tub, my hip was swollen to the point the place of the bite could not be seen. Not only that, but a lovely red map had begun to break out all over my body. I couldn't scratch hard or fast enough. I felt awful and I felt sick. I took another dose of Benadryl even though I had already begun to feel nauseated. I felt feverish and the thermometer showed my temperature was climbing. In spite of my sister-in-law's urging, I insisted I was "fine" and didn't need emergency care. I certainly knew the Lord's protection that day. The only symptom I didn't have was trouble breathing.

Once back home I relayed my story to a doctor at work who promptly wrote out a prescription for an Epinephrine-pen and urged me to make an appointment with the allergist now. The allergist I then saw told me my blood level was eight times what it needed to be for me to be allergic to fire ants. I'll never forget his next sentence.

"If you get bit again, you may die."

Two years of allergy shots, and I don't have to be scared of where I step anymore, only careful, and the Epi-pen is never far away. I have actually been bitten since then with not even a swollen spot to show for it.

My point is, I would not have known the big reaction without the bite on the hand first, what is known as "sensitization". That first bite on the hand -- and all the myriads of little bites before that -- is what ultimately what made it possible, when everything in my body and my environment where perfectly aligned for my allergy to form, to lead to the big reaction.

None of us comes to Christ without first having some form of "sensitization". Perhaps someone shares the Gospel with us, or we hear or read the Scriptures. Maybe it is that Mother or Grandmother, Father or Grandfather who has prayed for us day by day by day, but somewhere along the line, we have had our first contact with Christ. This makes us ready, susceptible to that moment when every circumstance of our lives is perfect for us to make the decision to come to know Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

Let us remember, that while sometimes we may be part of the "big bite", most often we are the little bite. Sometimes we are the one praying, or sharing a Scripture or giving a kind word or helping hand. All things things work together to prepare that one for their "big reaction" to the Lord Jesus.

"For we are labourers together with God: ye are God's husbandry,"

1 Corinthians 3:9

2011-09-14T06:30:00.000-05:00

I have a new pair of earrings.

They dangle and sparkle and have many different aspects to them. We bought them while on vacation in the northeastern part of our state and were made by a local artisan in the area where we were staying. They are the workmanship of her hands. They bear the signs and imprint of her creativity and design, her thought and execution. They are mine, but they were hers before they were mine.

The Scriptures tell us that as Christians, we are the product of a Workman as well:

"For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves:

it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works,

which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them." Ephesians 2:8-10

We are the workmanship of the Lord Jesus Christ.

He has created us in "righteousness and true holiness", unto the Glory of God. Our spirits, joined to the Holy Spirit through our faith in the Lord Jesus, have been created as "new creatures". The old things have been passed away and we have become new. We are intended to bear the signs and imprint of our Creator's creativity and design, His thought and execution, His sacrifice and His love. Those looking upon our lives are meant to be able to tell the "Artisan" who has created us for we were "before ordained" that we should walk in good works that would clearly identify us as His.

May all who look upon us be able to tell the design of our Workman's and that we belong to Him.

Stormy Wind

2011-09-13T21:58:00.002-05:00

It was thirty-two years ago yesterday and it was a night Idon’t believe I will ever forget. I justknew I was going to die.

HurricaneFrederic was headed our way.

We had left our tiny little apartment to stay with my husband’saunt, uncle and his Mom, but upon calling my parents, realized they had notgone to my sister’s house as I had originally supposed. We decided to cross town to stay with theminstead. Even though it was still earlyin the evening the wind was already strong and my husband could barely keep his truckon the road. Even the traffic lights were already beginning to sway in thewind.

As the night progressed and the wind increased, we listenedto the forecasters on a little battery operated radio. The well-meaning voices from the little boxbegan to give updates to all of us listening in the dark.

“Azalea Road Middle school has been demolished,” they said. Why, that was just down the street!

Another update: “The Howard Johnson Hotel on Highway 90 doesn’texist anymore!” I could almost throw arock at that hotel!

My mind took as straight a course as the hurricane. If those buildings didn’t exist anymore, andthey were so close to where we were, surely we could not survive the nighteither. The sounds from outside seemedto confirm the forecaster’s doom: the cracking of tree trunks and limbs, thesounds of winds that could only be tornadoes; breaking of the glass in the windows. I was petrified.

Perhaps the thing that scared me the most was that my fatherseemed frightened, too, but not of the wind. He was a man of the sea, water and wind did not frighten him, but firedid. The candles we used to illuminatethe house made him feel uneasy. As a twenty-two year old, I did not understand at the time that if the house were tocatch on fire, there would be no fire-fighters to come to the rescue. We would be on our own until the stormpassed. My father paced up and down --and up and down-- thelength of the house and his refusal to be still only heightened my own fear.

Frederic weakened slightly before it made landfall on DauphinIsland at 3:00am on September 13, with 125mph sustained winds, making it a strong Category 3 hurricane at the time.

The night passed, though, and we all lived through it. The weepingof the night was replaced with the joy of knowing that, even though there wasmuch to be rebuilt, we were safe.

My husband and I walked the eight miles to our tiny littleapartment – we walked because the windshields of our cars were cracked withrocks. We walked because you couldn’tdrive far, every road was blocked with huge oaks and tall pines, uprooted orsnapped in two. As we walked, we wereamazed at the devastation which could occur in one night to our town.

The next two weeks without power seems like ages agonow. The constant whine of the chainsawsand the endless menus of barbecue, as everyone grilled what was thawing in theirfreezers, is now a fading memory.

I don’t know what thepurpose of that storm was, but I know the Lord had a specific purpose in it. Theone thing I can be certain of is that Hurricane Frederic, in some way, even inall the destruction and fury leased upon our city, fulfilled the will of theLord.

For many it caused them to trustHim in ways they would have never trusted Him otherwise – especially for this young girl hearing her neighborhood wasbeing demolished!

“Praise the LORD from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps:

Fire and hail; snow and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling His word:”

Psalms 148:7,8

Look for Me. . .

2011-09-12T06:00:00.000-05:00

Sullivan Ballou wasa Rhode Island attorney who immediately entered the military in 1861 after thebeginning of the Civil War. On July 14, 1861 he sat down at Camp Clark,Washington to write a letter to his wife, Sarah.

Here is part ofSullivan Ballou's now famous letter:

Sarah my love foryou is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing butOmnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strongwind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spentwith you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to youthat I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give themup and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we mightstill have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorablemanhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small chains upon DivineProvidence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer ofmy little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I donot my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breathescapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive mymany faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless andfoolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with mytears every little spot upon your happiness. . .

But O Sarah! If the dead can come back to thisearth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; inthe gladdest days and in the darkest nights. . .always, always, and if there bea soft breeze upon your cheek it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans yourthrobbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mournme dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again. . .

A week later, atthe first Battle of Bull Run, Sullivan Ballou was killed. Sullivan was 32and Sarah was 24 at the time. His letter to Sarah had never been mailed, butwas found on his person when Governor William Sprague of Rhode Island traveledto Virginia to retrieve the remains of his state's sons who had fallen inbattle.

Sarah neverremarried even though she lived to be eighty.

Many hearingSullivan Ballou's letter to his wife are touched by the loving sentiment. How much more should we be touched by the sentiment contained in the loveletter written to us by the Lord. Every time we open His word, we should"look for Him". His story is on every page, from the firstchapter of Genesis to the last chapter of Revelation and every single one in between. As one preacher has said, if we have not found Him there, we have notseen the passage rightly.

Not only that, butjust as Sullivan Ballou told Sarah he would be the soft breeze on her cheek,the Scriptures tell us that the whole creation expresses the invisible thingsof the Lord, being clearly seen. We should begin to train our eyes to see and our ears to see these expressions of our Lord all around us so thatwe know that "soft breeze upon our cheek" is an expression of thelove of God to us.

"Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; forGod hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of Him fromthe creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things thatare made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are withoutexcuse:"

Romans 1:19,20

So Great!

2011-09-09T16:30:00.000-05:00

I encounter this gentleman every now and then as I travel the hallways of the hospital going to the lab, to pharmacy or to wherever I need to go to pick up things for our unit. He works in the housekeeping department and he is always friendly and cheerful.

One evening I needed to go to the Central Sterile Department. It is just about as far away from our unit --both vertically and horizontally -- as is possible. To get there, I must go down a very long hallway. I had just turned down this hallway and noticed him far at the other end. As usual, he looked happy. As my steps continued I could tell he was humming a tune to himself and I vaguely recognized it as a hymn.

It is my habit, when greeting someone in the hospital, and being asked the ubiquitous question, "How are you?" to answer with the response, "I am great!" But as this gentleman and myself grew closer, and his song became more evident, his mood infected my own to the degree that when he asked me the question I did not give my usual answer.

Instead I said, "I am so great!" I know grammatically it was a strange sentence, but it perfectly captured how I felt. I had even drawn out the "so" as if it had four or five "o"s in it for emphasis.

He laughed at my response and said, "So great! That's wonderful!" Assuming my shift was almost over, when it was actually just beginning, he said, "I hope that bubbles over into your dreams."

"Bubbles over into your dreams." It was my turn to laugh at his response. We had by now passed each other and continued down the opposite ends of the hallway chuckling at each other as we went. We had shared very little with each other, but that very little did so very much to our attitudes. I know I felt even better than when I started, and I could tell he did too.

What we say, how we say it, even the way we carry ourselves without saying anything can change another person's day. A look, a smile, a kind word, opening a door, helping to carry a load. . .it takes so little to do so much. Often that is then multiplied and passed on to someone else.

We have the Lord of Love and the Lord of Life living in our hearts. Let us let Him "bubble over" from us to others to day. He multiplied loaves and fishes to fed the bellies of the multitude, let us allow Him to multiply the smiles and songs in us to fed the souls of individuals we meet each day in our lives.

"A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance:"

Proverbs 15:13

My Father's Love

2011-08-29T05:12:00.000-05:00

I have no memory of this, but I have heard the story often that when I was a toddler I would never allow my father to hold me. In fact, the story goes that he would actually spank me to be able to hold me and console me. I heard him relay this story, as well as others in my family, so I suppose it is actually true.

The ironic thing about the early relationship between myself and my father is that as I grew up, it was always my father that I sought out when I wanted consolation. It seemed like he was always ready to give me a hug, but without any instructions or admonitions. He was the one place I felt I could go for love and support.

I think he must have felt a reciprocal affection in the relationship. When my husband and I were engaged, six months before our wedding date we found a tiny apartment for an incredible price. I didn't want to lose the apartment and asked my father if I could go ahead and move into the apartment then. He looked up at me from his desk with mournful eyes and said, "I'm losing you in six months as it is, do I have to lose you sooner than that?"

That was the end of the discussion. We sublet the apartment to a friend for six months.

The point is, I know my father loved me. He was not a man to say so very often. In fact, I only remember him actually telling me so once. I was pregnant with my last baby and one day he told me, "I love you and I love your baby." Even without the words, I knew it. He loved me.

With our Heavenly Father, we have both the words and the assurances. The Scriptures are full of His message to us that He loves us beyond measure. It is full of His actions that He loves us as well. The life, death and resurrection of His Son are the surest sign to us that God loves us. He is that source of strength and comfort to which we can always turn. He is never too busy, never absent, never distracted. He love never fails.

"For God so loved the world,

that He gave his only begotten Son,

that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish,

but have everlasting life."

John 3:16

Hot Donuts Now!

2011-08-28T03:47:00.003-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

There are a few times in your life when you know you are experiencing perfection.

A couple years ago when we visited Boston, we went to the Boston Symphony. As John Williams conducted the Boston Pops and we heard the first strains of the most beautiful music bounce off the walls of that acoustically perfect room, tears streamed down my face. The sound of the music was incredible and all I could think was, "How amazing must be our God to have created this."

Several times when we have set out kayaking before daybreak, we have stopped our boats to watch the sunrise and as the sky painted pink and purple and gold, I have again had tears streaming down my cheeks as I wondered at the power, grace and beauty of our Lord.

I have been blessed in my career to witness over twenty seven thousand babies come into this world. Each is a miracle and each baby a beauty in it's own right. I have often cradled a baby in my arms and marveled at it's minute perfection. The softness of the little cheeks, the sweetness of the little hands and feet are a glory to behold. Babies were just meant to be held, swaddled and loved. How great is our Lord to have created the miracles of birth and babies.

Today I had another of those moments of perfection. I had worked night shift last night and had especially been looking forward to my sleep because I have a cold. I don't have to work tonight, so there was no alarm to wake me up -- what a wonderful thing in and of itself! This afternoon, my husband came in to wake me up with a cup of coffee (After thirty-three years, he knows that if he is going to wake me up, it is much better to have a cup of coffee in his hands!)

Then he said, "How would you like some homemade donuts?"

He handed me a plate with two homemade, cinnamon sugar donuts. Our beagle, Sparrow, who is my nap partner (she holds the World Record and Gold Medal in Naps) perked up too. I took a bite and knew I was experiencing something exceptional. I had just bit into a perfect donut.

Now we grew up with Krispy Kreme. We remember the old Krispy Kremes -- you know, before they changed the recipe, so I have had good donuts. But this donut, this was absolutely incredible. Crunchy crust on the outside, fluffy cake on the inside. . .perfect in every way. Sparrow agreed.

I would have never thought a donut could lead to worship, but I found myself thanking the Lord for the experience of this wonderful culinary delight. Only He could have imparted the wisdom and skill to mankind to give us such a recipe. And speaking of grace and mercy beyond measure, I had not one, but TWO of these fantastic donuts! (Which was good, because Sparrow's incredible beagle nose told her we had a delectable goodie on the plate and her pleading eyes made me share with her. Her second Gold Medal is in Eating.)

I wonder how many opportunities for worship and thanksgiving I have missed because I took for granted all the great things the Lord has sent my way. When I crawled into bed this morning, did I think to thank Him for the comfortable pillows? Did I thank Him for the cold medicine that had enabled me to get through the night of work more easily? How many moments of perfection, awe and grace have I simply missed?

May my blind eyes be enlightened to see Him in all things and to know more fully that, as my life motto says, "having Him, we have all."

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,

and cometh down from the Father of lights,

with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."

James 1:17

Lost!

2011-08-27T11:24:00.006-05:00

It was one of the scariest nights of my life. Sheer terror and complete helplessness combined in my heart to create an unbelievable feeling. I wanted wings and had none. I wanted the voice of a megaphone and didn't have it. I wanted X-Ray vision and felt blind. My legs couldn't carry me fast enough, my voice couldn't yell loud enough and my ears strained to hear a sound that wasn't there.

Emmie was lost.

She was about ten at the time. She had gone outside to play with her scooter in the driveway. It was almost dusk and I told her she had to be back inside before dark. She had taken our dog Grunt, the most athletic beagle the Lord ever created, outside with her.

Several minutes passed and Emmie had not come back inside. I began to be concerned and went outside to check on her. I saw the scooter on the side of the lawn, but no Emmie. Then I saw Grunt's leash and collar, but no Emmie. From the vantage point of our house, I could see far down both directions on the circle on which we lived. There was no evidence of girl nor dog.

I called Glen who had gone to the gym. He quickly left to come home, telling me later he had gone 85mph traveling the streets between the gym and our house.

I took to the streets. I called out her name. I called Grunt's name (not that I expected him to come when called. Grunt loved to escape and would not willingly return just because he had been called.) With each step, my mind raced and began to formulate plans. What would we do next? When would we call the police? Our son Noah was away at one of his advanced Marine Corps schools; our daughter Marie was in Tuscaloosa, neither would be available. Who else could help, would help?

I don't know who called Tom, if it was me or Glen, but someone did. Tom was, and still is, a dear friend and he adored Emmie. I know the moment he received the call he dropped whatever he was doing and was on his way looking for her.

I was making my way back around the circle when Glen made it home. I had not seen one glimpse of girl nor beagle. Glen went around in the car and I went in a different direction on foot. Then the silver car pulled up and a young blonde girl tumbled out of the car.

Emmie was safe! And so was Grunt, as Tom pulled him out of the back seat.

As Emmie was playing, Grunt had escaped his leash and tore off running. (Grunt running was a beautiful site to behold, unless you were the one chasing him!) Emmie, who loved Grunt more than anyone else, took off after her dog. Around the circle, down the street, toward the creek they went. That's where Tom encountered them on his way to our house.

I didn't know whether to spank her or hug her again. Imagine my relief that my precious daughter, only moments ago lost to me, was now found. I didn't want to let her go. My gratitude to Tom was, and still is, immense.

Just as the prodigal's father rejoiced to see his son return, so our Heavenly Father rejoices when His children return. "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found," (Luke 15:24). It is the great joy of His heart to forgive, and He "delighteth in mercy."

The Ninety and Nine

There were ninety and nine that safely lay

In the shelter of the fold;

But one was out on the hills away,

Far off from the gates of gold.

Away on the mountains wild and bare;

Away from the tender Shepherd’s care.

“Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine;

Are they not enough for Thee?”

But the Shepherd made answer: “This of Mine

Has wandered away from Me.

And although the road be rough and steep,

I go to the desert to find My sheep.”

But none of the ransomed ever knew

How deep were the waters crossed;

Nor how dark was the night the Lord passed through

Ere He found His sheep that was lost.

Out in the desert He heard its cry;

’Twas sick and helpless and ready to die.

“Lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way,

That mark out the mountain’s track?”

“They were shed for one who had gone astray

Ere the Shepherd could bring him back.”

“Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?”

“They’re pierced tonight by many a thorn.

And all through the mountains, thunder-riv’n,

And up from the rocky steep,

There arose a glad cry to the gate of heav’n,

“Rejoice! I have found My sheep!”

And the angels echoed around the throne,

“Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!”

by Elizabeth C. Clephane, 1868

There's A Train A-Comin'

2011-08-26T11:06:00.001-05:00

Many years ago our family visited Washington, DC. It was our first experience with a Metro subway system. We were a little apprehensive before our arrival at being able to connect on the right train, but we quickly learned the system and found it to be one of the most enjoyable parts of our trip.

Years later when we went to Boston and New York, we looked forward to again navigating by subway. This time, of course, we were using a much larger subway system. Referring to the different colored trains, my daughter said of the NY subway system, "They use a whole box of crayons." It was, indeed, much more complicated than in Washington.

Sometimes we got on the right train, sometimes we didn't. But we were always looking for the right train. Anytime I see a television program depicting a subway, it takes me back to those times when we were waiting for our "right train".

In our Christian lives, we are also always looking for the "right train", or at least the right opportunities. We are looking for opportunities to trust and believe God. That is the train we want to be seated on, the train of faith in God. We want to know we are on the right train and traveling in the right direction.

Often times our arrival at the correct station on the subway meant we were met with travelers rushing and pushing past us onto the train, and perhaps the occasional musician serenading up as we walked up the stairs to the daylight above. But on the Train of Faith, there is something better waiting at the station.

As I heard a preacher say recently, "Someone is going to be waiting for us at the Depot up the Road." The Lord Jesus is waiting for us at the station "up the Road" and we want to be sure we are on that "faith train" to Him.

The Scars of Play

2011-08-25T09:59:00.002-05:00

Almost every man I have ever known has a scar somewhere on his face -- often on his chin. This is usually the result of an impact with another boy playing sports, or an impact with a fence or perhaps an impact with the headboard while jumping on the bed as a boy, as with my husband.

It seems it is just the lot of young boys to scar themselves up while playing. Some boys would go running to Momma for comfort and first aid, others would bear their bloody injuries as honor badges among their friends. It would be all the better if the injury required a few stitches!

In Heaven, all these scars -- in fact all bodily imperfections -- will be gone. Our glorified bodies will be perfect. The scars of the wounds of this life will be only shadows of memories so vague that they can't be recalled to life.

There will be one Man in Heaven however who will still bear the scars on His face. The scars of the thorns which pierced the face of the Lord Jesus will forever remind us of His great love and sacrifice for us. Imagine looking into that glorious face and seeing the faint reminders of His great suffering for us. Imagine looking at His hand and forever knowing it was pierced for us that we might know eternal joy and peace. Imagine looking at His feet and knowing that it was wounded for our transgressions that we might walk the path of eternal righteousness and holiness.

Forever won't be long enough to give thanks.

"O give thanks unto the LORD;

for He is good: for His mercy endureth for ever."

Psalm 118:29

Hey Look, We Match!

2011-08-24T09:59:00.000-05:00

It is amazing how many times my husband and I will be leaving the house and will turn to each other and realize that our outfits match. Often we will be total replicas of each other. (Well, he doesn't wear heels and or carry a purse!) We might not have noticed each other the whole time we were getting ready, but then at the last moment we realize we look alike.

When we began recording our music, I was amazed listening to just the vocal tracks. I can sing quite low for a woman and there were times our voices would blend together in a way that I could not tell which voice was his and which was mine because they were so similar. Even our voices matched.

Over the last thirty-three years, it seems my husband and I have been becoming more and more like each other. We have melded. They say that happens. I think that's a pretty good thing for a couple to do, to mold and conform to each other. Sort of how a good old pair of shoes has conformed to all the particularities of your feet and finally feel really good when you slip them on. But there is a better conforming that is going on.

The Scriptures tell us that every day, the Lord is working to conform us to the image of "His dear Son". If I was to be remade in the likeness of someone, that would surely be the likeness I would want to be remade into, the Lord Jesus Christ. The Lord "works in and through us" to accomplish this, slowly working to remove that which doesn't need to be there and adding that which does. Finally, one day in Glory, we will look at the Lord Jesus and say, "Hey we match!"

That is, until we look at His hands and feet.