Monday Meditation

Patches of sunlight sent me looking for my camera this morning despite the 32-degree reading on the thermometer at 10 AM. It didn't take a meteorologist to describe today as "crisp and clear." What appears as fog or mist in the photo at the right is actually a flooding of sunlight into our side yard. Sometimes the truths of God's Word, His promises, and His love totally embrace me. Other times, in my rebellious soul, I turn the other way, clutching to false idols of my heart's making. When I cannot see clearly, I can learn to trust the Sonlight that shines with grace and mercy. Unfortunately, my learning curve lags lethargically.

I live a battle of the will to walk by faith and not by sight. Yesterday I had no schedule for arriving back here from Severna Park, but I still battled within myself about making a stop in Mt. Airy to Lorien Nursing Center, just minutes off Interstate 70. A friend resides there, languishing in the last stages of MS. Would I stop or not? At the last minute, and probably aided by the fact that I was in the right lane, I pulled off and went inside for a short visit. As I approached the parking lot, I immediately remembered that the handicapped parking put me at the opposite end of the facility. I would walk right, enter the building, and then walk left through a long hallway to Barbara's room.

Why the stalling? What troubled me? Didn't I appreciate all the folks who have visited me and aided in my recoveries? How different would Barbara be now? Once signed in, I navigated my way along and greeted those I met. My brief visit lifted my spirits as Barbara smiled and mouthed thank you.

Today, in retrospect, I wish my motives had clarity of purpose. The questions I posed yesterday offer a very shallow, self-centered perspective. Barbara's current status now sends me to the Lord, asking for His call home to come to my friend soon. Yet I ponder my need to trust Christ more, knowing that even when my view looks blurred, it's only because of His brilliant sunshine streaming into life's real situations.

Sage Wisdom

Since 2009 marks the 500th anniversary of John Calvin's birth, writers will reference, rediscover and reinvent (After all, we do live in the age of deconstructionism) this sage. Those writers, professors, and theologians with negative bias or misinformation will dismiss Calvin as the stern proponent of predestination. They consider him graceless, interested only in writing his Institutes, not very practical. Yet such a depiction fails to capture the real legacy Calvin left this world. One Reformed Theology website refers to Calvin as the one who “literally transformed the philosophical, political, religious, and social landscape of Europe." What backs so global a statement?

Intellectually, Calvin, a French-born Roman Catholic completed law studies by age 23, and had published a translation of a book by Seneca. University education grounded Calvin in Northern European Humanism of the early 1500s; however, Calvin soon threw in his lot with reformers who followed Zwingli’s basic idea of the literal reading of Scripture. Given the philosophical and political intelligence of Calvin¸ this scholar set out to write an orderly presentation of Scripture. Best known for The Institutes of the Christian Church and a catechism that, once memorized, would provide a sure compass for children and adults, Calvin initially frightened Genevans. Had they traded the rigidity of the Roman church for another papal system? By 1538, Geneva sent Calvin packing. He established a ministry to French refugees in Strasbourg but returned to Geneva in 1541 and lived there until his death in 1564.

Calvin wanted literacy to spread far beyond the aristocracy and professionals. After all, reading the Scriptures was a vital part of the reforms. Here, I confess an error I’ve held for years. I believed that Robert Raikes founded the modern Sunday School concept by taking the illiterate children off London’s streets on Sunday afternoons and teaching them to read using Bibles as his textbooks. Actually, Calvin, 300 years prior, held Sunday afternoon classes to teach the catechism to children. Ronald Wallace, in his biography, Calvin, Geneva, and the Reformation, says, “It is not surprising that when the citizens of Geneva accepted the Reformed faith, they also at the same time agreed to make with the education of the young.”

I appreciate Calvin’s holistic approach to faith. From New Testament texts he wrote Ecclesiastical Ordinances, setting forth attributes for teachers, pastors, elder and deacons. Church government had boundaries with disciplining occurring in line with Matthew 18. Calvin educated, taught refugees, led in church reform, wrote without stooping to vernacular (the texting of hi8s day?) always aiming to elevate the people so they could study the Scriptures for themselves. What a legacy to us today.

After having written about Calvin, I am set to order John Calvin:A Pilgrim’s Life by Herman J. Selderhuis (IVP, 2009) and enjoy some rainy days like this one reading what Frank James III describes as “simply one of the best biographies of Calvin I have seen.”

To those who still consider Calvin cold, graceless and impractical, I’d offer this quote:

“We have given the first place to doctrine in which our religion is contained, since our salvation begins with it. But it must enter our heart and pass into our daily living and so transform us into itself that it may not be unfruitful for us.”

Friendships

William James said, "Wherever you are, it is your friends who make your world."

Yesterday this quote arrived in an email from a friend I first met in my home church in New York over 50 years ago. The quote then took flight as I GPSed my way to an 1880 farmhouse on Buffalo Run Road in Friendsville and received a free concert black skirt. Before I left, I also received two squash and a pumpkin, complete with directions for cooking/baking each. Next, a phone call came from three couples, friends from the Annapolis area who "happened" to be driving through Accident (Who drives accidentally through Accident?). They asked, "Could we have lunch together"? Any other day, yes, of course, but we already had lunch plans with friends whom we've known since our 1980s Bible study. The Drakes timed their trip home to Shreeve, Ohio such that we could enjoy a three-hour lunch together. Relaxing at home later that evening, I received a prayer chain phone call from our pastor's wife reminding me to pray for a new friend having surgery today.

In 41 years of marriage we have lived in nine different apartments/houses and moved, if memory serves me right, 14 times. I can testify to the truth of James' quote. Friends have made our world, whether they moved our furniture, babysat for our boys, helped Dave put on a roof, or took care of me after surgery. Faces, as well as stories, fill my mind when I think through the people God has sprinkled throughout our lives. Finally, I drifted off to sleep next to the one who has proven his love and friendship to me since the 1960s. I taught American literature for years and smiled about this remembered quote: "To have a good friend is one of the greatest delights of life." Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Autumn Glory

Garrett County celebrates Autumn Glory the second weekend of October. This year marked the 42nd annual festival. While craft shows, parades, state fiddle championships, quilt shows, turkey dinners and pumpkin races in the white water facilities dominate the weekend, God paints the true beauty.

I think of autumn metaphorically in terms of being wrapped up in down comforter, experiencing a delightful cocoon. Though insulated in warmth, all the senses explode! This season offers the spectacular colors of leaves and mums, chilly morning air, hot chai lattes, my favorite pumpkin cake recipe, the warmth of the gas fireplace, the distinctive crunch of a Granny Smith apple, and the Choral Society's practice of Christmas music.

I love seeing new things in my more leisurely days of retirement. So although I have seen myriads of brown oak leaves, the red ones over on Turkey Run Road got my attention. Dave stopped the car and took the photo above. I captured the more traditional mums, pumpkins, and hay along side of the last of summer's perennials. Both speak to my love of autumn and drw my heart to the Creator.

Psalm 9 says,
"I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.
I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High."

Law of Flesh -- Law of Spirit

Currently, a group of women from Grace Reformed Church is studying Paul's letter to the churches in Galatia. Poised in Galatians 4 and 5, I keep thinking my way through the legalism that so easily trips me up. The Pharisees tried diligently to keep the law in the strictest ways. Yet, when they gave 39 lashes instead of the 40 legally prescribed, they actually acknowledged their inability to keep the law flawlessly. Whenever I consider the law of the flesh, I look at things that aren't hard for me to do. Then I mentally chastise others who can't keep my self-made laws while excusing myself from areas of my failure. No wonder I find no rest in trying to be legalistic. One minute I can soar on clouds of arrogant superiority and then quickly crash in the ashes of inferiority! What a mess I am when huddled in the mire of trying to keep laws. By that I don't just mean the Ten Commandments. People who do not prescribe to that biblical code do verbally or tacitly choose some self-imposed standard; any shred of honesty will quickly testify to the fact that we can't keep our own standards.
If we step aside and look at the law of the spirit we find two facts: it's even harder to keep than jot and tittle record keeping, and it's been accomplished for us with perfection.
The spirit of law literally goes to the heart of the matter. Now, not only do my acts condemn me; but my attitudes and thoughts also confirm my guilt. Don't commit adultery really means don't even look at a woman with lust in the mind and heart. Who could ever keep such a standard? Martin Luther tried physical pain as he crawled step by step on his knees while he prayed. No relief or eased conscience followed these acts of contrition and penance. However, the perfect law keeper entered this world and, in my place, met the requirements of the law. Unbelievably, He chose to impute His perfection to me. No wonder Issac Watts wrote about amazing grace! Consider Paul's words from Galatians 4:4-6. "God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, to redeem those under law, that we might receive the full rights of sons. Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.'" I'll keep processing the truths of grace as Paul lays them out in Galatians, for I have much to learn before I sleep, much to learn before I sleep.

Written in the Sky

Psalm 19 breathes with wonders that my camera cannot begin to capture. The sheer enormity of the skies boggles my finite mind.

Needless to say, terms like sovereignty and providence bounce around in my head, so I relish the Scriptures and other writers who have grappled with these big ideas. Jerry Bridges writes "I define God's providence as 'His constant care for and absolute rule over all His creation for His own glory and the good of His people.'" So I breathe these ideas into a prayer for a family who said an earthly goodbye today to Faye Parkinson. This afternoon they believe, in the midst of their grief, another Bridges' thought: "God, in His love, always wills what is best for us. In His wisdom He always knows what is best, and in His sovereignty, He has the power to bring it about." The Psalmist proclaims.

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

When death comes to a loved one, Paul writes "but we do not grieve as those who have no hope." How do we finite creatures gain a bit of heavenly perspective as we grieve? Always practical, Bridges says this: "We must see our circumstances through God's love instead of, as we are prone to do, seeing God's love through our circumstances. I rejoice in Faye's safe arrival home and in her family's eternal perspective.

Springs Folk Festival

Dave and I faithfully attend the Springs Folks Festival in Springs, PA each year.
Always the first full weekend in October, this celebration boasts excellent crafts, demonstrations and food. Patiently pushing my wheelchair, my dear husband takes us to Bread from the Hearth where the fresh-baked bread comes slathered generously with butter and/or apple butter. The crusty outside crunches just prior to the squishy warmth exploding on the taste buds. OK, so that's breakfast. Amazing isn't it? Just producing, preserving and cooking food occupied so many hours for a family. Sausage went into the smoke house; tapped maple trees yielded syrup that had to boil for hours.The entire family pitched in to insure enough food occupied the larder to get them through the winter.

After scanning the food exhibits, we headed to the trail, definitely not terrain for a wheelchair. At times, Dave turned me backwards and tipped my heels to the sky so we could make progress. We watched men guide shingles through a saw one at a time, while another man wielded an axe to create split rail fences, a few inches at a time. Native Americans stood at a smoke-filled wigwam, reminding me of the primitive homes people lived in during the harsh winters and humid summers. That led my thoughts to clothing. We buy off racks; settlers started with flax, made linen and then stitched quilts and clothes by hand. Quilts took months but when winter came, people appreciated the layers of quilts
















When time allowed for fun, out came
the fiddles, banjos and guitars. Soon Appalachian Clogging kept up with the beat of the music. Add to that the haunting sounds of the hammer dulcimer, and you can hear the pulse of the woods that calms the heart and draws it toward the Maker of all. This weekend you can find us at the Maryland State Fiddle Championship, just soaking in the culture the surrounds our ridge.