Do Not Remember Past Events

Isaiah 43:18-19

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

“Do not remember the past events; pay no attention to things of old.
 Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it?”

It is the last day of 2013 as I write this. It has been a good year. It has been a bad year.

I retired on the first of July. This has freed up our time so that we could spend about 10 weeks visiting friends and loved ones, seeing the origins of our church, and reveling in the fall colors of New England. It gave me time to start this blog, something previously unknown and mysterious to me. I have been able to attend Spanish classes and to finally start understanding spoken Spanish. This has also given me the real challenge; to actually reach the point where I can understand and speak it as well as I have some other languages. Without real challenges life could become very dull and boring.

The year has also brought some rather scary events. Well before dawn one morning I got out of bed, and my head started spinning. I couldn’t walk straight and had to hold on to things or fall. My doctor looked very serious and sent me off to the emergency room. He hinted at things like a stroke or brain tumor or worse. The hospital ran a few tests and admitted me. Finally a sensible neurologist sent me home and told me he was sure it was simply BPPV. What is BPPV? It sounds less scary than benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. The word “benign” seemed comforting. But the symptoms were real. Like many scary things in life, the symptoms gradually faded away until now I do not experience any of them. I can truly “pay no attention to things of old” as far as BPPV is concerned.

Other challenges are a little more elusive. Having lived for 64 years a slave to the clock that was determined by forces beyond my control, it is harder to marshal free time into productive time. Age does bring health problems that don’t go away; for example I weigh nine pounds more than I did last year at this time. My eyesight is a lot worse than it was 64 years ago when I started attending school.

And, of course, there is the innate urge in all humans to sin. We have by our very nature a rebellious attitude towards authority in general and God in particular. I certainly have inherited an annoyingly abundant amount of this quality. How grateful I am that God has provided a way for forgiveness and growth away from such urges.

Thank You, Jesus, for Your promise that “It is I who sweep away your transgressions for My own sake and remember your sins no more.” Isaiah 43:25

All flesh is like grass

1 Peter 1:24-25

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

²⁴ For All flesh is like grass,

and all its glory like a flower of the grass.
The grass withers, and the flower falls,
²⁵ but the word of the Lord endures forever.

And this is the word that was preached as the gospel to you.

This summer we took a trip east from California mainly to see family and friends. Among these are Bruce and Marcia. They love the out of doors just like we do. They love travelling and hiking. Bruce and I studied graduate mathematics together, and our families attended the same tiny church. Our girls were the same ages as theirs and had immense fun together. Marcia’s brother had also been a friend of mine when I was in college.

Unfortunately they live in Tennessee on a beautiful farm way out in the country, so it appeared we would miss them. Then they notified us that they would be in Michigan for a family reunion about the same time we were planning to be there. So when we finally got to Michigan, we phoned up Marcia to finalize a meeting with them.

Marcia’s father is a friend of mine on Facebook. He often posted humor and words of wisdom on my time line. Of course I couldn’t help but reply in kind and had indeed done so just before leaving California on this trip. He and his wife lived out on a small farm near one of the hundreds of hamlets that dot the map in Michigan. They were both born again Christians looking forward to Christ’s soon return.

Marcia answered the phone with the sad news that her father had gone into hospital on some minor pretext. While he was there he had had a major heart attack and died. They were at his home packing up things so her mother could go home with them to Tennessee. We drove there and spent a couple hours visiting and carrying things out to their pickup. Marcia told me that the day before going in for his checkup, her father had mentioned that he hadn’t heard from me on Facebook for a while and hoped that everything was okay with me. How thoughtful.

I will miss him and his pithy comments.

Indeed Father, “all flesh is like grass.” Thank You for the very reassuring hope that we will not perish forever but will meet friends and loved ones and live eternally with You.

A Dog's Eye View

Psalm 90:4

Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

⁴ For in Your sight a thousand years
are like yesterday that passes by,
like a few hours of the night.

She was almost four years old when she came to our home from a friend who couldn’t stand her continuous barking. We named her Lucille Ball, or Lucy for short, because she was short, red-headed, and yapped so much. Although small dogs have never been my first choice, she captured our hearts. We got her a German shepherd/black lab puppy as a companion whom we named Cleopatra or Cleo for short.

Lucy lorded it over Cleo for a year or so even though Cleo grew to five times her size. Then one day Lucy stole a piece of meat right out from under Cleo’s nose. Suddenly Cleo understood that it was settlement time. With an angry growl Cleo took off after Lucy. They dashed madly about the house. For the first time Lucy saw how close she was to death. She fled at absolutely her top speed around and around the house. Cleo, breathing fire and brimstone, was right on her tail. Although Cleo was faster than Lucy, Lucy’s maneuverability made the mad race fairly even.

For a long time I had been wondering when Cleo would suddenly discover that she was no longer a small puppy under Lucy’s domination. I stood there shaking with laughter. Pretty soon I had to sit down because I was laughing so hard. Eventually both dogs ran out of breath and gave in to the weariness they felt. A new order had been established. Lucy still tried to lord it over Cleo, but it was only half-hearted because Cleo had established herself as top dog forever.

Many years later Lucy had a stroke. We had a vet intervene, and Lucy lived on, but it was a very painful existence. Her stools were bloody, and she could no longer control them. She whimpered often and showed other signs of living in constant pain. She never ran or barked, nor did she recognize us at all. It was a blessing when she got so weak that we had to put her down.

To both dogs we are in a very minor but real sense like gods. We have been around throughout their entire lifespan. Although they can rebel, they know they can’t get away with it in the end. Their life and death matters are often trivial and even humorous in our eyes. We supply their needs, their entertainment, and eventually often determine how long they live. They have to await our convenience for such things as meals and walks. Yet we love and care for them—in a small way like God does for us.

Thank You Lord for allowing us to glimpse in the pets You give us a side of You that we would never see otherwise.

A Hummingbird's Christmas Home

Psalm 84:3

New International Version (NIV)

³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may have her young—
  a place near your altar,
    Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Every Thanksgiving or shortly afterwards we put up strings of lights under our eaves and everywhere else that we can find a place. Each year we’ve used these lights to honor the birth of our Savior and Lord. The lights shine every evening through Christmas and New Year holidays, and then we take them down after the first week of the new year.

One year we noticed a hummingbird that frequented our bird-of-paradise flowers was especially anxious that we not come near. Whenever we went out the front door, it would hover over us, its wings buzzing an ominous warning drum beat. We are at times rather dense and slow to grasp the obvious messages of nature; it took us a while to realize that our little feathered friend was far more insistent and regular in its warnings than it usually was. It also flew to one particular spot under the eaves quite regularly. When the lights were on we could see nothing unusual. But in broad daylight we could see a beautiful and delicate little nest resting on the base of a bulb tucked up under the eaves. Often we could see our hummingbird’s head or tail sticking out over the edge of the nest.

That year we left that particular string of lights up well into April and long after there was no more sign of the hummingbird. Eventually the nest began to break of its own accord. When we did take it down, we were amazed at how comfortably the nest had been lined with down and lint. The mother had chosen a warm, safe place for her family.

May we place our lives as close to Your dwelling as we can so that You can protect and nurture us, gracious Lord.

A time to be silent

Ecclesiastes 3:7

American Standard Version (ASV)

⁷  A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

Elinihaki Tuvako and I taught science and mathematics at Ikizu Secondary School in Tanzania. In those days Tanzania had a three tier school system. The first two years of pre-primary school are taught in the language of the locality the school is in. There are some 130 distinct languages. The primary grades 1 through 7 are taught in Swahili. All children must attend primary school.

In some ways Swahili is like English. English is based on the Germanic Anglo-Saxon language supplemented by a huge vocabulary from French. Swahili is based on a Bantu language that is indigenous to East and South Africa. It has absorbed a huge vocabulary from Arabic over a number of centuries of trade, especially during the time of the slave trade.  It is one official language of Tanzania.

The high school grades are taught in the other official language, English. Less than 5% of the high school age children get to attend high school. So everyone speaks Swahili, but only a small number of people speak much English.

This week I was speaking with Elinihaki’s daughter Linda, who lives in the United States. She told me of a friend of hers who immigrated to the States recently. They sent their school age daughter, whom I’ll call Neema, to first grade.

When Neema got home that first day she told her mother that her teacher was very ignorant and must not be very educated. Very surprised the mother asked her how she knew that.

“Kwa sababu mwalimu wangu hawezi kusema Kiswahili!” she exclaimed. (Swahili for: “Because my teacher can’t speak Swahili!”) Neema had wanted to show her teacher that she already was educated enough to speak Swahili. Since her teacher couldn’t speak Swahili she deduced that the teacher must be uneducated.

Lord help me show by what I say and by what I leave unsaid that I love and trust You.

In Swahili Elinihaki means “God is my righteousness,” and Neema means “Grace.” 

The Trees Clap Their Hands

Isaiah 55:12

World English Bible (WEB)

¹² For you shall go out with joy,
    and be led out with peace.
The mountains and the hills will break out before you into singing;
    and all the trees of the fields will clap their hands.

It was late September as we drove north towards Rangely, Maine, on State Route 17.  Although it was a bit early for peak foliage colors in Maine, we were hoping to get an eyeful at least in spots. We stopped at Coos Falls in Byron. Here the water tumbles gleefully down a cascade of rocks into a lovely little canyon with vertical rocky sides. The sun made the day warm enough for us to enjoy the shade of trees along the bank.

We drove on up the road as it wound its way up higher and higher hills along the northern stretches of the Appalachians. Suddenly we rounded a corner to a spectacular view north and east far into New Hampshire. Below us a lake stretched away to the north east. It was a magnificently large lake. I wondered why I had never heard of it before. On a signboard I read and re-read the name, Mooselookmeguntic Lake. The name was almost as large as the lake and signifies the place where moose feed. Dozens of parked cars indicated others had stopped to enjoy the view. Everyone was out in shirt sleeves soaking up the sun and the sight of millions of trees in green and gold and red around this lake spread out in the northern forest. We later found out that the viewpoint, Heights of the World, has a name rivaling that of the lake.

Coming down the north side of the mountains, we again wound in and out. Finally we passed a brilliant display. Turning around, we pulled off onto Stone Hedge Lane, parked our car, and jumped out. Great maples sported brilliant orange, gold, and yellow leaves. We basked in the glorious display. Indeed the trees along the lane seemed to be clapping their hands, thrilling us in their joyous jubilation.

 Thank You, Lord, for letting us share in the trees’ celebration of the change of seasons.

When You Think You've Arrived

James 4:17

King James Version (KJV)

¹⁷ Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.

Pastor Llewellyn served three churches when I knew him. When I first met him he was very leery of me. I think he took the obvious devil in me very seriously. But over time he came to accept me. In fact we became very good friends. I was in college, half way around the world from home, and I would often spend a weekend in his home.

His car of choice was a little VW bug that was probably the first new car he had ever owned. He drove fast. I would often think that if his guardian angel didn’t get into the car he would never be able to catch up with him. Llewellyn had to drive this way. He preached at all three country churches nearly every Sabbath morning. He had a service in one of them from 8:30 to 9:30. Then he would jump into the little bug and burn out of there to the next church that met from 10:00 to 11:00. When he arrived, the church would have already sung the opening hymn, and he would slide into the pastor’s seat just in time to stand up and preach the sermon. Leaving there he would race to the third church and arrive just in time to preach there, too.

He loved emotional stories and would often have to wipe his eyes when he came to the crisis. He loved music and sang with an excellent bass voice. He sang not only for special music but also would sing in an appropriate part of his sermon. He encouraged his children to sing for church, and they became favorites of his congregations.

Llewellyn had served in France during World War II. When he came back to the States he went to college and trained for the ministry under the GI Bill. So many ex-GIs did the same thing that he wasn’t able to become a pastor for a number of years, so he taught church school. Eventually he received his call to the ministry and served in rural churches for many years.

He practiced the strictest form of Christianity. He also expected his family and his parishioners to do the same. He insisted that his wife and children follow every practice of the church to the letter. Yet he was very understanding towards his parishioners and realized the flesh had a strong hold on them. He readily forgave their lapses and wept and prayed for them. I never met a parishioner of his who didn’t respect and love him dearly.

I often wondered what drove him to be so strict on himself and his family until one day he pulled out his well worn and much underlined Bible and, opening it, read me this text: “Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.” After a pause, he gravely added, “This was the first text I ever underlined in this Bible.” He had received it when he was in high school.

Lord, give us the impetus and grace to do good where we find an opportunity.