Crumbs from Christ

 While our family was camping together last weekend, one of the girls snapped this photo of me reading my Bible--well, it was Tom and Rose's Bible--one morning while holding little Ellie Rose. Even babies are included in devotions! Ellie looked like she was reading, too!

Every morning Jonathan and I read or listen to the Scripture, and this morning it was about the Syro-Pheonician woman who came to Jesus asking Him to heal her daughter who was severely demon-possessed. She cried to Jesus to have mercy on her, but He didn't answer her a word.

So unlike Him. 

Yet like so many times when we pray, and He doesn't seem to pay us any attention. He doesn't answer a word.  

The disciples urged Jesus to send her away, and He told them He wasn't sent to any except the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 

Noticing that she was being talked about, the pesty woman stepped nearer and worshiped Jesus.

Do I step nearer to Him and worship Him when He is silent to me, or do I quit praying and ignore God? 

"Lord, help me!" she said again, urgently. 

The disciples had urged Jesus to send the woman away, and now she, desperate, was urging Him to help her. 

 

To whom would He listen?

"It isn't proper," Jesus said, "to take the children's bread and throw it to the little dogs."

Dogs!

The woman didn't miss a beat or take offense. She accepted the comparison and had a comeback of her own. 

"Truth, Lord," she gulped, wincing at the sting but embracing the chance at humility and the possibility of being heard. "Yet, even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their master's table."  

 

We are all familiar with what happened. She had passed Jesus' test with flying colors. 

"Oh woman," Jesus said, so willing now to do what He had always been willing to do, "great is your faith! Let it be to you as you desire!"

And her daughter was healed from that hour.  

There may be times we may feel that we don't deserve even crumbs. What if we feel like such a jerk and a failure that we don't deserve even crumbs? 

The Pheonician woman's example should encourage even those of us in those shoes. 

She came. 

She cried. 

She came again.

She worshiped.

She asked.

She humbled herself.

She was heard.

She received the answer to her prayers, and her daughter was healed. 

Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, hear our own prayers tonight!

We come.

We cry to You!

We come again and again and again.

We worship You.

We ask.

We humble ourselves.

You will surely hear us.

You will grant the healing, the redemption, the restoration, the hope that we need.

Amen. 

 

 

Charlie Kirk's Assassination--What Use Was Prayer?

 Today Charlie Kirk, a conservative "firebrand" and co-founder of Turning Point USA, was assassinated by a single bullet at a university campus in Utah. I don't listen to much news, mostly notice headlines and read a few articles a week, so to be honest, I didn't at first know who my sister was talking about when she sent a message about Charlie getting shot.  Seeing photos later, I recognized Kirk, but I hadn't really listened to him very often. By the end of the day, though, he was a household name. 

At first it was hoped he might make it, though he was described as critical. Thousands, perhaps millions of prayers must have winged heavenward this afternoon as people waited for news.  

"Please help him be okay." 

 

He was not okay. He died. 

On Crystal's phone, as she fried potatoes and ground bison and garden vegetables for supper, we watched Megan Kelly and Glenn Beck talking about the shooting, both of them crying. Glenn bawled unashamedly.

I had never seen commentators bawling without even trying to cover up. I had never seen a man weep like that on the news. And that was before the announcement came from Deseret news that Charlie had not made it.

So what use are our prayers?  

 

Some nights recently when I couldn't get to sleep, I'd lie in bed praying. I'd fold my hands and let my body language say words I wasn't coming up with in my mind. But then in the last few days, I've been learning to not fold my hands, but hold them. 

Hold them open to the Father, Who knows what is best. 

Hold them open in surrender.  

Hold them open to receive peace. 

In most areas of life, Greg Feulner wrote in the Samaritan Ministries newsletter this month, we do things ourselves. If we are hungry, we make a meal. If we don't want a messy house, we clean it. If we need to write an email, we sit down at the computer and type away. 

"But in prayer," Greg wrote, "rather than exercising control, we surrender our control."

 

 There it was again--just what God was showing me--changing my clenched hands into open ones.

Releasing the hands that were balled into a fist--and holding them open and empty before God.  

"Prayer is our acknowledgement of our humanness, of our total dependency on the Giver of life.

In prayer, we come before the throne empty-handed, seeking Him...."

Today thousands came empty-handed to our Father. Were our hands balled into a fist, or were they open and surrendered?

What if, like me, more people will hear about what Charlie stood for because of his death than because of his life? 

What if God will work more good from Charlie's death than his life?

What if others will choose to follow in his footsteps and speak up for truth not only on university campuses but all sorts of places?

What if we must look to God instead of to Charlie Kirk now for truth and right answers? 

What if, in other areas of our lives, we held our hands open to our Father instead of raising a clenched fist? 

What if, in releasing control to God, He gives us in return His peace? 

 

Never Despair. But if You Do...

 Yesterday when I found myself pacing with distraction and distress, I remembered the adage I have kept in my Bible: "Never despair; but if you do, work on in despair."

It's what I did one summer, many years ago, on a day of one of my very worst memories. Despair was wreaking havoc with me and my family, but that was the day we had to can about 60 quarts of corn. 

I remember the heartache working its way clear to my fingertips, the heavy load we carried as we husked, steamed, packed into jars, and canned for 1 1/2 hours each batch of 7 quarts of sweet corn. 

It was a terrible day of despair. But we worked on. We finished the job, cleared away the husks and swept away the silky tassles from the porch. Jar lids snapped as they sealed. We went to bed, still in despair, tired, and work worn. 

But we got through that day and many more. We worked on in despair, and finally the clouds cleared and joy came again.  

At the school house near Laura Ingalls' family's homestead near De Smet, there was a very old school desk with words engraved in the metal bracing of the desk seat, "Never Give Up."

As I was told recently, "There is too much at stake."

Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote, "When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."

 

Never give up. Never despair; but if you do, work on in despair. As surely as tides flood in, they also go out, and as surely as the shower falls, the rainbow forms in the clouds. 

When the Light Goes Out of Your Life

A gloomy darkness threatened to settle into my life in the last few weeks. God had been so very good to shed so much mercy on my pathway through cancer besides so many other goodnesses and mercies.

And then other heartaches came. 

I remembered when Jonathan's mother passed away, the words his dad wept in a moment of deepest grief, "The light has gone out of my life."

And what could we say to comfort him?
There are times when there are no words.

An arm around a shoulder, a silent sympathy, a wordless prayer sent heavenward is all that we could do--and yet such a prayer is answered.

Light came again into Daddy Lucas's life when Ruth Runnells and he discovered that they were enjoying each other's companionship in the aftermath of loss for each of them. They have been married well over two years now, even though Daddy Lucas was already 86 when they married.

But there are losses far greater and far more extensive and far more heartbreaking.

What do you do when the light goes out of one's life?

The sun that was my light by day

Has set. The moon has dimmed its glow.

The candle in my room is snuffed,

The last small star is gone also.

The grief, the loss, the pain, the night,

The darkness I can feel.

Where are You, God, when sun has set

On wounds that cannot heal?

I cannot count the hours of night

Before a taunting dawn.

I cannot sleep in night this dark

With all the starlight gone.

But down the long, dark hall of fear

I see a sudden glow.

Is it a candle or a lamp?

A window for my soul?

The radiance brightens as I move

On through the tunnel of despair.

I don't deserve the sense of Love

That beckons me with "I am there."

And suddenly I'm in the light

So bright my eyes must close.

I shield my gaze and bow my head.

I'm warmed from head to toes.

The Lord has come, His Love the Sun

That's bursting through the night.

The Lord, the everlasting God--

He is my dawn, my light!

--Anna Lucas

A Sister's Love--and Let it Be

 My dear younger sister Joella sent me a sunshine box just after my recent surgery. 

In it were a beautiful new purse and several articles of clothing including the top and skirt that I wore to church Sunday. The top and skirt actually matched--something I have a hard time doing. 

 I have a hard time matching clothes. (And everybody in the peanut gallery said Amen.)

So it was super nice to have a classy sister send me some clothes she bought just for me at an outlet store but brand new, and the skirt even fit PERFECTLY without me having to sew pleats or let out seams or use safety pins. 

(Oops, I'm letting my secrets out.)

I try hard to do things like everyone else, such as wear matching clothes, but I just don't have the gifts others do. So I have to be content with how I am and who I am. 

Also I have to let go of how other people are. 

And how some circumstances are. 

I can't fix everything, not even some things. Only a few things.

I can't make things better for most people. I can't force themto  make healthy choices.

I don't know other people's hearts or minds or motives.

I am not God. 

And I don't dare play God, either. 

I'm not the other person's Holy Spirit. Only He is that. 

There are some things that the best and safest thing to do is to just 

let it be.

Some people's lives don't match their claims or their testimonies. Can I fix them?

Let them be.

I have enough to do to live authentically and holy myself. 

Some people's prayers about relationships are up in the sky while they refuse to obey the simplest guidelines God gave us on this earth, which if they would do, their prayers would quickly be answered. 

Let them be.

As the plaque said on the wall of the place where we stayed a week and a half ago, "Let it Be."

I thought, "Wow!  A lot of problems would resolve if we followed that motto."

Obviously we can't just sit on the couch and veg and just lazily let everything be; and ministers can't just let everything be without preaching about God's demands for holiness and right living and godliness in our hearts, lives, and homes; 

and as moms we certainly have to look well to the ways of our household and train up our children in the way they should go, including godly discipline for the learning of obedience;

and there are surely at least one or two or many situations around us that we could truly help in a generous, caring, and godly way;

 but there are some situations where we would be better off to let it be.

Perhaps today, we could choose one or two things that rankle us, 

and let it be. 

We might discover more peace in the midst of the storm. 

To Be Honest and Truthful--and Content

 "It is still best to be honest and truthful, and to make the most of what we have."

That is the quote on a slate at the Laura Ingalls Wilder gift shop near De Smet. We need that reminder, not only from the Bible, but from real people who are living real lives.

I am still getting blog post ideas from that excursion a week and a half ago. 

I am reminded of the poem, 

The Three Gates
by Beth Day, 1835

If you are tempted to reveal
A tale to you someone has told
About another, make it pass,
Before you speak, three gates of gold;
These narrow gates. First, “Is it true?”
Then, “Is it needful?” In your mind
Give truthful answer. And the next
Is last and narrowest, “Is it kind?”
And if to reach your lips at last
It passes through these gateways three,
Then you may tell the tale, nor fear
What the result of speech may be.

Thanks, Laura Ingalls, for an extra reminder as we go about our daily lives. 

And here is a post I accidentally ran across while searching for this poem that I couldn't remember.

https://liveaquietlife.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-three-gates-plus-one.html

Ripe Plums Rain Down

Today hundreds of ripe plums rained down from the branches of the plum tree at our friend Mathel's place as we shook the branches. 

I showed the girls how to do it--not pulling with terrible jerks that will break branches, but with sturdy, quick, fast jerks that will keep only ripe plums falling off their stems. 

Underneath the tree Mathel had spread a tarp which we moved about as we shook branches. We placed it in about four or five different spots all around the tree, taking turns shaking branches all around. 

It reminded me of the plums Jonathan's mother used to have on a small tree in their back yard. What a treat plums are! We got gallons today and plan to can most of them. 

I made the mistake of pulling a plum off of a branch to eat rather than choosing to pick up a ripe plum from the tarp or that had already fallen into the grass. That plum was so tart it nearly turned my mouth inside out!

I am reminded of how we must wait the proper timing for so many things in life. Just as farmers wait for just the right day to harvest grain or vegetables and ranchers wait until just the right season for calving or weaning or haying, we must patiently wait for the fruit to ripen, for good works to be rewarded, and for vengeance to be meted out by God upon unrepentant sinners.

We must wait, sometimes interminably, for God to answer prayer;

but in His time, according to His will,

He will. 

"In His time, in His time

He makes all things beautiful in His time. 

Lord please show me every day

As You're teaching me Your way,

That You do just what You say, 

In Your time!"