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Bringing in SpringSome things are what you make them to be!

I have a confession:  I have been grousing.  Not about 3 major surgeries in way less than 2 years’ time but of a “conspiracy” cooked up between my surgeon and a very nice Physical Therapist, Nick.

After my last surgery, for a broken femur, I had somewhat arrogantly told the surgeon that I would have no more of the hated PT, whereupon that surgeon quietly notified the therapist to call and insist that I go on with the program due to a weak leg.  And all I’d wanted to do was stay away from the clinic and finally have some time for a LIFE!

To back up, I have an intense dislike of typical “exercise” and anything to do with a gym.  As a student, I abhorred gym class, with exception of that at Colorado U. where I satisfied the loathsome requirement by taking 2 semesters of Western Style Riding.  Anything to do with animals—especially dogs and horses—is super in my estimation.

The only sports I have ever greatly loved are 1) Quiet boating as in oars and paddles rather than motors; 2) Horseback riding; and 3) Dancing—perhaps the greatest love of them all!

Thus the epiphany which reminded me that some things are what you make them to be!  In the midst of the afore-mentioned grousing, I was going to sleep one night while streaming a favorite album called “Hebrew Melodies” featuring violinist Maurice Sklar and pianist Hugh Sung.  While cozily dosing off, I found myself gently moving the offensive leg in time to haunting Hebrew melodies and rhythms.  It suddenly hit me that I did NOT have to call my list of exercises “Physical Therapy”.  I could consider them to be “Dance”, and accompany them with music!  Maybe I could add some dance moves, thereby surprising Therapist Nick.

The next day I GOOGLED Hebrew dancing, only to realize that this inspiring tradition was just a bit too aerobic for the circumstance of healing Femur Surgery.  I will save that for celebrating my Jewish Messiah’s return to Jerusalem.

My next cyber-stop was a flash mob U-Tube which I’d enjoyed awhile back, titled “Amazing People Dancing in the Street—Zorba the Greek”.  Suddenly I was hooked.  The dance starts slowly, and I can handle the forward, back, and sideways footwork to some degree.  As the tempo of the unforgettable Zorba song accelerates, I simply continue my steps at the original pace—doing a quarter note to every 2 eighth notes of the music.

Then when the tempo hits 16th or 32nd notes, I just quit!  As the speed progresses, the Zorba dancers do very physical hops, kicks, and lunges coupled with shouting “Opa”—which is a statement something like “Olé” in Spanish or perhaps “Oofdah” in Norwegian,  or “Wow” in English and “Brava” in Italian.

Too much fun!  I got so enthusiastically into the Greek-ness of it all, that I had to GOOGLE to find our why the Greeks break plates, as shown on the U-Tube.  I found 3 explanations which readers can check out if interested.  Sometimes my blog stats show readers from Greece, and input would be welcome.  🙂

So I am dancing rather than exercising.  A good way to live—rethinking those seemingly odious things we have to do!

Margaret L. Been — February 12, 2019

Note:  Perhaps the above is in sync with my DNA test results.  I had thought there would be only Irish and other Celts, German Swiss, and the Alsace-Lorraine combo of German and French. 

I was flabbergasted to find 13% Italian or Greek.  Brava and Opa!  Maybe this goes back to the Roman Empire or Alexander the Great, but I am delighted to have it.  Along with my 1% European Jewish!  I would have loved more of that, but am nonetheless contented!

 

Winter Breakup

The tyranny of winter is about to break up, as the above watercolor rendering depicts.  We have had a good amount of snow, accompanied by below zero temperature readings plus way below zero wind chills.  Then a sudden and violent thaw along with bone-biting days of sleety rain and icy windshields on cars—and potentially treacherous roads rendered slick with icy rainfall.

But by mid February, a difference—for which we are watching and waiting.  Not a difference in difficult temperatures or driving conditions (which can last into April in Wisconsin) but the radical rebellion of Spring overcoming the darkness of Winter.

The difference is visible in sun faithfully and predictably climbing back into the northern hemisphere.   In just three weeks, that sun will rise through our patio door and flood our living room, kitchen, and dining area—after being out of our living room view since October.  Always I think of a favorite hymn:

“Summer and winter and springtime and harvest, sun moon and stars in their courses above, join with all nature in manifold witness to Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.”  from the hymn GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS by T.O Chisolm and William M. Runyan

Bringing the excitement of watching and waiting right up to the area of contemporary music, that poet of the piano George Winston has an album titled WINTER INTO SPRING.  This music brings the drama of watching and waiting into the marrow of the listener’s soul.  As an impassioned music lover, I hear and sense the reality of Winston’s music in the core of my being.

Great is Thy faithfulness and Winter into Spring!  I’m reminded of a prophecy in Malachi, at the end of the Old Testament:  “But to you who fear My name THE SUN of RIGHTEOUSNESS shall arise with healing in His wings . . . .” Malachi 2:4a

This passage especially impacts me because The Lord Jesus, God’s Son, Who will literally return to reign in Jerusalem as KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS, is pictured as “The SUN”, thereby invoking the physical “sun” as a metaphor for our Lord Jesus Christ.

How beautiful, the poetry woven into the truths of Scripture.  We are watching and waiting for the sun to return to our hemisphere to banish the hardships of Winter.  And we watch and wait for the return of THE SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, to establish a promised government of peace and justice, overcoming the centuries-long “Winter” characterized by the sins of fallen man.

Watching and waiting, for Winter into Spring—-for Death into RESURRECTION.  Indeed, GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS!

Margaret L. Been — February 8, 2019

Home!

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Since my last entry I had thought the next one would be more about the winter quiet.  But in recent days, something so beautiful has happened that I simply have to write about it.  A thirteen year old girl who had been missing from her home town in Northern Wisconsin for 88 days, has been found—and she is home.  A girl named Jayme.

Since Jayme’s disappearance, she has been the subject of an intense nation wide search.  All that time she was sixty miles north of her home town.  For my blog readers all over the globe, I will explain the tragic events which culminated in Jayme’s rescue.  In October, Jayme’s home was entered in the late evening.  Later, upon investigation, Jayme’s parents were found murdered and Jayme was gone.  Obviously every news item of a missing person, especially a young person, causes sorrow.  But I have felt exceptionally connected to Jayme’s case for several reasons:

1)  Joe and I have a beautiful great-granddaughter almost exactly Jayme’s age.  Our great granddaughter will turn fourteen in February, and she bears an amazing resemblance to photos I have seen of the missing Jayme.

2)  I am a Wisconsin small town “girl” at heart.  I grew up in a town of population 2,203 about 77 miles north of Milwaukee.  As newlyweds Joe and I lived in a larger small town, further north, with population of about 10,000.  And recently we lived for eight wonderful years near a town with a population of 1,500—way up north, 285 miles north of our present home.

3)  I am no stranger to the Wisconsin Northwoods.  Not only have I lived there full time in recent years, but I have vacationed there—either via tent camping or rented cabins—many times during my life.  The quiet, natural beauty of the North defies description.  Thousands of acres are preserved in state and federal forests.  The landscape is literally littered with lakes—both pristine water, sand bottom lakes or a myriad of river-flowage lakes—like the one where our home was situated.  The flowage lakes are muddy bottomed and weedy.  Unlike the sand bottom lakes, lakes such as ours are impossible for jet skiers and speed boat lovers to navigate—and suitable only for wildlife, of which there is a wealth in our Northwoods.  This is why we loved our place up north so much.  We had every imaginable year round and migratory kinds of birds in our woods and waterfowl in the swamp around our home, plus muskrats, beavers, and otters just up the river.  The Wisconsin Northwoods is home to more Virginia whitetail deer than humans.  And we have a plethora of bears, a good number of wolves, and yes—some cougars who have wandered in from “out west”.

There is a profound peace in the North, yet within that peace can reside evil as vile and treacherous as the potential evil in any city neighborhood, anywhere in the USA.  Such is the evil of the man that killed Jayme’s parents and kept her captive in a remote Northwoods area cabin for nearly three months.

Last week, Jayme bravely left the cabin while her captor was out, and she approached a woman who was walking her dog.  The woman immediately brought Jayme to a nearby home, and called 911—the nation wide emergency number.  Jayme was offered beverage and food, and a blanket, but Jayme accepted only the blanket.  She had been outdoors without a coat, and she was shivering cold.

Meanwhile, her kidnapper was found due to Jayme’s description of his vehicle, and he is in court with charges of two homicides and a kidnapping.  Jayme is back in her home town with a very devoted aunt, other relatives, and many friends who love her and are rejoicing over her return.  And she is back home with her dog.

Details of Jayme’s escape are delineated in a feature article in a recent (available online) edition of The Milwaukee Journal/Sentinel.  If you can read this feature and finish with a dry eye, well . . . I just don’t “get it”!  As I read, I experienced a growing understanding that Jayme’s rescue is very clearly a “God” event—and here is why:

It did not “just happen” that we are having an unusually warm winter in Wisconsin.  The temperatures up north have ranged in the area of 20 degrees above zero, in an area where from 15 to 25 below zero is frequent.  Jayme would have been greatly endangered if there had there been a customary reading of below zero.

It did not just “just happen” that the woman who found Jayme does not live in that remote area full time.  She and her husband live many miles south of there and they were having a winter vacation at their northern cabin.

It didn’t “just happen” that the woman who found Jayme is a retired social worker specifically in child welfare.  And, to risk my sounding overly basic, it didn’t “just happen” that the woman’s dog needed to go poddy at the exact time when Jayme was wandering in the woods near the cabin.

Especially wonderful, is the fact that it didn’t “just happen” that the town of Barron WI (population 3,3018) was united in ongoing prayer—and that the prayer element was published again and again on cable news stations as well as in newspapers that carried the ongoing story of the search for Jayme.

A GOOGLE search reveals that there are nine churches in Barron.  Nine churches united in heartbreak and concern for a missing girl who was loved by many in the community.  Nine churches united in prayer—and now elated over God’s answer.

Prayer must continue, as this young person has been traumatized beyond imagining, by the violent death of her parents and 88 days of captivity with horrendous implications.  Jayme will need every possible prayer for her healing, and for her ongoing dealing with all that has happened—as well as for her future.

But Jayme has family and friends, and an entire town that loves her.  And God, with His matchless love, is watching over her.  Metaphorically speaking, God has delivered Jayme out of the pit of hell.

Margaret L. Been — January 14, 2019

Note:  As I muse over the event of Jayme’s rescue and the prayers which have brought her home, a thought has entered my mind.  There are countless thousands of “Barrons” across our nation—small communities where most every person is “known” or “known about”, towns where individuals unite in prayer when tragedy strikes people in their midst.  Even in America’s tragic moral and ethical decline, many in our nation still seek God’s face and continue in prayer.  We know that prayer is where it’s at!  Prayer/prayer/prayer!  Our Lord Who returned Jayme to her home town, can bring our nation back to faith and obedience to Him!

“If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from Heaven, and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”  2nd Chronicles 7:14


Frozen time unhinged . . .

pulsing, throbbing life unseen . . .

waiting to burst forth.

I’ve often wondered if those who live in a tropical or near-tropical part of the world experience the four seasons with as much joy, anticipation, and metaphorical musings as we do here in the North, where each one of the seasons is uniquely distinct!  I would certainly miss the round of annual changes that have been a part of life forever—even during a handful of years in my beloved Colorado, which does also have definite changes although (happily!) it can be 70 degrees there at Christmas.

It is fun to grouse about winter, but the truth is I LOVE it—especially now that we are in our dotage, and don’t have to go out on the roads unless we really want to.  Even a clinic appointment may be postponed if icy roads prevail.

I do know that occasional change can be delightful in winter.  Back in the days when I flew at the drop of a WHIM, to visit our out-of-state children, I enjoyed an occasional week with our son, Karl, in Denver CO which was sometimes warmer than Wisconsin, and other times capable of producing a sudden 18 inches of snow.

And I recall one January when I visited our oldest daughter, Laura, in the environs of Bellingham, WA.  I was treated with typical NW Rainforest weather.  A constant quiet, warmish rain made music on the metal roof of Laura’s home—like the melodious, soothing repetition of a George Winston piano composition.  I got so excited about the sound of the rain on the roof, that Laura’s six year old daughter, Nancy, asked—very pointedly—“Grandma!  Doesn’t it ever rain in Wisconsin?”

Conversely, Laura has traditionally loved to come home to Wisconsin in January—especially when we lived in the deep, quiet Wisconsin Northwoods.  There it is normally anywhere from 15 to 30 degrees below zero in January, the kind of weather when nose hairs freeze and crackle.  The kind of weather where the sun, slowing climbing back Northward, is brilliantly blinding as it reflects on snow and ice.

Laura and I would sit each bitter cold, sunny morning, watching for the local bald eagle to cruise over our frozen flowage lake—while to the discerning eye, various soft tints of color occasionally played across the ice as the sun moved overhead.

Now, 285 miles South of that high winter home, we are just as contented.  Winter is the deep quiet time of our four seasons year.  For the home-loving soul who thrives on “making”, winter days are creative—whether “creative” means home-made bread hot from the oven, a painting, a morning of piano practice, a garment growing on the knitting needles, or most any other kind of “making”.  In Wisconsin we have our deep snow winters, and our winters with hardly any snow.  But winter is winter.

How thrilling to know that, as we relish this quiet time of crafting, music making, or whatever, the sun grows stronger and higher in our hemisphere every day.  Each year I print out sunrise/sunset/length of day charts for December of the past year and January, February, and March of the current year.

The U.S. Navy produces these online charts.  For the more scientific mind, charts including the length of twilight at each end of the day are available.  But I am contented just to read the times of the sun’s appearing and disappearing—and the growing moments of daylight.  Even as I type this blog entry, we have gained 5 minutes of daylight since the winter solstice.  This thrills me to my bone marrow!

Growing daylight is a testimony to God’s faithfulness, as expressed in the beloved hymn:  “Great is Thy Faithfulness” by Thomas O. Chisholm (lyrics) and William Runyan (music).  The verse, “Summer and winter, springtime and harvest—Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above—Join with all nature in manifold witness—To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love” resounds with truth and life through the visuals of our four seasons climate.

And winter, with its long deep quiet, is as much a witness to God’s faithfulness as spring and high summer with their green explosions, and autumn with its mellow bounty.  In the winter we know that life continues quietly underground, gathering strength in the ever-increasing daylight while pulsing, throbbing, and waiting to burst forth!

Margaret L. Been — January 4th, 2019

 

Heaven’s Angels

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“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”  Hebrews 13:2 KJV

Angels are prominent in the lives of Old and New Testament people, speaking God’s messages, shutting the mouths of lions, predicting the birth of Jesus and John the Baptist, joyously announcing our Messiah’s birth, ministering to our Lord after His trial in the wilderness, present at the empty tomb after the Resurrection of Jesus, attending His ascension into Heaven, springing Peter out of prison, and in countless other references where angels speak to or assist in God’s dealings with His people—plus the glorious accounts of angels accompanying our Lord at His return and singing praises around His throne throughout eternity.

Whether angels have appeared in Scriptures as men bearing God’s messages, or as Heavenly beings radiantly decked out as in the descriptions of angels at Jesus’s birth and His ascension into Heaven, they are very clearly sent from Heaven to carry a message or perform a task.

But equally exciting, is the Scriptural verification that angels are active in the daily lives of ordinary Church Age believers—not appearing in radiant white and shining glory, not speaking in overt messages from the Lord, but rather appearing as just plain people intervening in our lives in significant ways.

In such instances, it will seem that a human has intervened; yet in retrospect we have a growing sense that something supernatural occurred.  There are occasions in a believer’s life that defy human logic, when we have met an angel: “unwittingly as in the New King James Version; “without knowing it as in the New International Version; or, as in my very favorite traditional King James Version of Hebrews 13:2, “some have entertained angels unawares”.

Two such scenarios are outstanding in my past, and I recall them as if they happened last week.

Scenario #1—!990:  Our daughter, Martina, and I had flown to the outskirts of Washington D. C., rented a car, and headed out to New Market, Virginia, where we had a motel reservation.  I’d booked a weaving class out of New Market, at a farm on the Shenandoah River, and 14 year old Martina accompanied me just for the fun of a trip.

The weaving class ran from Monday through Friday, with the Wednesday off—giving Martina and me a chance to explore part of the George Washington National Forest into the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia.  The owners of the farm where the class was held loaned me a road map of the territory.  I had a bit of panic when I first saw the map, the roads of which resembled a pile of cooked spaghetti.  Then I thought, never mind.  There will be signs.

But once we left the main highway and went up into the forest, there were no signs—at least I didn’t see any—until after a couple of hours of winding through gorgeous scenery on the spaghetti roads, when we saw a small, rugged wooden sign saying “Reddish Knob” and pointing somewhere down a road.  Several roads converged hither and thither, and I had no idea of how we had arrived at the spot where we were.  My spaghetti map was no help.  We were alone, lost in a wilderness, and I had no idea how to get us back to civilization.

So I pulled off the road, and Martina and I prayed.  Suddenly, across the road and up a few yards from us a sedan appeared—and out of the car stepped a man in a business suit and a hat. The man walked over to our car and, through my rolled down car window asked if he could help us.  Now I am normally a very cautious individual, but in this case I had no fear.  I showed the man the map and asked him if he could tell us how to get back down to the highway.  I don’t recall whether or not the man used a pen or pencil, but he very clearly explained the way back.  I thanked him and that was that.  The man drove off in his sedan, and Martina and I followed his directions back to familiar territory.

A kind person, suddenly appearing to meet our need.  But later I began musing about that gentleman, as I have ever since.  What in the world was he doing, dressed in a business suit in a place where there were no subdivisions of homes, no commercial malls or office parks?  We were on government land, so it was unlikely that he was there to buy a lot or oversee some business venture.  The man was dressed for a day’s office type work, in an area where one might expect to see back-packers dressed for wilderness hiking.  Even a casual sightseer would not normally be dressed in business attire.

An angel unawares, unknowing, unwittingly?  I absolutely believe he was an angel, as the man and his appearance defied any logical explanation.

Scenario #2—1993:  My husband, Joe, and I had just flown from Boston, USA to Glasgow, Scotland where we rented a car to embark on a 2200 mile excursion on back roads in rural Scotland, England, and Wales—staying at Bed and Breakfast Sheep Farms for most of the 17 nights.  As we left the airport, headed for the boonies of Argyll (home of my Campbell ancestors) with Joe driving on the “wrong” side of the road in a car with the steering wheel on the “wrong” side of the dashboard (and never mind our jet lag!), we were confronted with something we had not yet experienced in our slow moving part of Wisconsin:  a roundabout—buzzing with traffic going who knows where, seemingly in all directions of intersecting highways.

Again, we had a map—this time one I had ordered stateside from the British Travel Authority, complete with descriptions and photos of Sheep Farm B & Bs all over the United Kingdom.  As Joe was keeping us alive in traffic, I was trying to make sense of the map and our destination.  Just as frustration began to peak, we saw an old man walking by the side of the highway, with a cane and a large Shepherd/Labrador type dog.

Somehow Joe managed to pull off the highway, and I asked the man if he could tell us how to aim for the area in Argyll where we were headed.  “I’ll show you,” the man said.

He climbed into the backseat of our small car with his large, friendly dog, and off we went under the man’s direction.  After a few minutes, he pointed us on our way.  As the man and dog got out of the car, Joe and I were both concerned about him, and we said, “What about YOU To which the old man smiled and replied, “Oh, I’ll be all right.” 

Again, “Thank you”, and that was that.  We immediately realized that Scotland was (and indeed is!) a very friendly part of the world.  But again I have mulled over that incident for years.  What was an apparently frail old fellow doing, walking his dog along a busy highway system with no neighborhood in sight?  Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to walk his dog around the area where he lived?  And where did he live, amidst that maze of traffic?  How could he have been so casual about getting back to the place where we had found him?

Maybe the kind, elderly man was more physically fit than he seemed to be.  Maybe he simply loved to hike with his canine buddy for miles of highway, rather than along the picturesque lanes of rural Scotland.  Maybe, but I don’t think so.  I believe our roadside friend was an angel unawares.

This is not to say that any time we have roadside help, it is via an angel from Heaven.  There are plenty of kind and helpful humans, as our road trips have proved.  I know it was a real down-to-earth county sheriff who helped us change a tire on a Kansas highway, in a tremendous wind that reminded me of THE WIZARD OF OZ—also set in Kansas.

And I’m not foolish enough to believe that help will always be on hand whether on the road or anywhere else.  On our fallen planet, we may experience troubles beyond our wildest imagination!

But I do understand that our days and lives have been known by God from eternity past.  He enables His people to cope with whatever circumstances prevail, as we focus on Him, always through His infinite grace and occasionally through the ministry of Heaven’s Angels—who may appear to be helpful humans, but actually are angels unawares,.

Margaret L. Been — December 28th, 2918

Note:  I have just added Ghana, Turkey, Russia, and Switzerland to the international list of readers on my 12/22/18 blog entry.  Welcome friends!!!

Here's what it's all about sans GB

This precious photo takes me back to 1962, when our daughters, Laura and Debbie, plus our son, Eric, reenacted an historical event which needs no explanation—as a part of our Christmas Eve celebration at home.

We had another daughter, Judy, somewhere around—and a real live baby, Karl, who for some reason was not available at the moment, so a doll took the place of Baby Jesus.  Obviously we overlooked the fact that we had no boy doll to fill in the gap. 🙂

I think some of our children understood the Christmas message better than I did in 1962.  Children can be so receptive to the simplicity of it all!

I was reminded of this last evening, at our church’s annual special Christmas worship:  Scripture readings from the Genesis 3:15 first mention of our Messiah, prophecies concerning the Lord Jesus from Micah and Isaiah, the beautiful account of Jesus’s birth in the Gospel of Luke, and the joyous climax in the book of Revelation when God’s glorified people will be worshipping the Lamb Who was slain—KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.  All of the readings were interspersed with the singing of beloved Christmas Carols.  As a finale, we lit our individual candles and sang “Silent Night”.

It brought tears to my eyes, to think that people all over the world would be replicating this service of worship and adoration:  people of countless denominations, in many languages and in every possible setting—be it a cathedral, church, public venue, or at home either in safety and comfort or at risk of arrest, incarceration, and/or torture and possibly death.  Scriptures, carols, and candlelight.

When singing the carols, I thought of all of you who may be reading this blog—brothers and sisters in Christ in the USA, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, UK, Ireland, Finland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, France, Germany, Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Portugal. Australia, New Zealand, India, Myanmar, Hong Kong, Nigeria, Gabon, South Africa, Afghanistan, and other places around the world.  All lighting candles and singing praises to the Lord Jesus Who is the Light of the World!

Today we are united in love, through His Holy Spirit.  Someday we will be united in person, praising our LORD OF LORDS, KING OF KINGS—thanks to His message of Salvation, Redemption, and Eternal Life:  a message so beautifully simple that even a receptive child can understand and believe it.

To all of you readers, wherever you are, I pray you will have a blessed Christmas!

Margaret L. Been — December 22, 2018  

Note:  I am adding Ghana, Russia, Turkey, and Switzerland to the above international list.  Welcome friends!!! 

 

THE THINGS ABOVE

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“Since then you have been raised with Christ, set your heart on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ, Who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.”  Colossians 3:1-4  NIV

Even as we deliberately choose to set our minds on things above—and perhaps because we have chosen a Christ focused mindset—-we are apt to be needled and poked by petty annoyances in our circumstances:  not only the big dilemmas, but those rinky-dinky irritations too silly to mention.  These are the fiery darts of our enemy, and I am wondering if any Christian is immune to experiencing them!  Dear reader, if you have never been needled and poked, please share. 

This morning, some silly technical frustration “stuck in my craw”, and rather than ignoring, or at least responding with serenity and grace, I reacted in anger.  This after a wonderful start to the day, with prayer and communion with our Lord.

In the midst of my reaction, I said, “Oh, Lord, I am so sorry!”  Immediately, the Holy Spirit brought to my mind my very favorite Psalm and the particular passage I especially love:  Psalm 139:9-10–-“If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.”  NKJV

Being reminded of this passage in the circumstance of my reaction and remorse was an epiphany for me.  For decades I have claimed the promise of Psalms 139:9-10 for two occasions:  1) flights (as in planes); and surgeries requiring general anesthetic—perhaps because in both of those scenarios I have no control whatsoever.  I simply have to trust God to work through the humans involved in flying the plane or “fixing” my body.  (As if I really ever DO “have control”. )

Obviously, I know that God is with us and active in all of our issues, great and small—a fact He has revealed to me again and again over the years.  But today God showed me in a more visceral way that He is ever present, to nudge me out of temptations and sinful reactions—by applying a beloved Scripture, to the “uttermost parts of the sea” implied in my anger.  Even there God’s hands are holding me and leading me out of the morass of fallen self, back into His light. 

I cannot trust myself to respond correctly, even in the rinky-dinky issues of life.  I can only trust the Lord Jesus Christ, Who not only will someday make all things new, but at this very moment is lifting me to Himself in praise and gratitude.  The Lord Jesus is all sufficient and all powerful for today—for the huge calamities we may encounter, and also for those silly needling and poking scenarios.  He is Lord over all the fiery darts. 

Meanwhile, we are in the midst of beautiful family and friend celebrations of our Lord’s first appearance on earth—to show us how to live and then to die for our sins, and rise to give Eternal Life to all who believe in Him.  Our Lord’s first coming anticipates the wonder and joy of His second coming.

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them.  They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God.  He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’  He Who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’  Then He said, ‘Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ ”  Revelation 21:3-5  NKJV

Come, Lord Jesus!

Margaret L. Been — December 19th, 2018 

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