A New Devotional From Tyndale

Over the course of my life I have used countless devotionals along with my Bible reading every morning. I have read from Dietrich Bonhoffer’s writing, Streams in The Desert, and the Book of Common Prayer. I have even read from the Jesus Calling book (which I find awfully presumptive for speaking with Christ’s voice).

But, since the 365 Pocket Morning Prayers arrived for review from Tyndale, my husband and I have been reading one each morning. We are finding it the perfect way to start our day, as each page contains a brief, but meaningful, prayer followed by an applicable Bible verse. One need read only a page, and yet there is enough spiritual sustenance for the entire day.

The cover is a lovely, light blue, leather-like texture; the size is small enough to slip into a purse or a backpack. Yet the font is easily read, and I like how the accompanying scripture verse is in italics at the bottom of each prayer.

This would be a wonderful addition to your devotional time, or if you don’t carry out such a practice, this would be a good place to start. After reading each page, I find myself sustained and encouraged to begin the new day, a blessing I would hope for you, too.

Good Tidings

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I received this card yesterday from an old blogging friend, one who never forgets me no matter how careless I am in sending forth good will. It is one of my favorite cards received this year.

A challenging year it has been, from a serious car accident involving my son, to two small surgeries for myself, and one for my mother. And these are only the outward manifestations of some inner emotional turmoil. But we are all here, experiencing grace, and I am so grateful.

When things are difficult I am convinced it is for our good. Our bodies aren’t  nourished on only sweets; our lives are not strengthened by only smooth days. My mother has said to me, “Courage grows strong in a wound.” My father has said to me, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” These are the words I live by.

But at Christmas, I also live by these words:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. (Like me, so many times.)

And the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

Luke 2:8-11 (KJV)

And I wish for you good tidings of great joy, of great comfort, and of great hope for 2016. God bless you, each one.

 

The Final Word

Two days ago, I had my hand slapped by a blogger on Facebook.

Her post mentioned something about the Constitution being the law of the land, not the Bible. And if the Bible was law, we might as well move to Iran.

While I wholeheartedly agree that the Constitution is our law, and should always be so,  I responded that the foundation of our country lies in the words that we are “one nation under God”, and even our money says “in God we trust”.

Her reply was that those two axioms came in the forties and fifties, in response to the red scare; they are not the foundation of our country at all.

I’ve been, as my son would say, a little salty ever since. They are the words I grew up with. They are the words my class and I have said every single morning for thirty years. They are the words on our currency which I touch every day of my life. And it doesn’t seem that they hold meaning for much of America any more.

“Let it go,” said my beloved husband, who knows how much I yearn for the final word.

“But I have to stand up for Him!” I cried.

“God is perfectly capable of standing up for Himself,” he replied. Which is, of course, true. But if I say nothing, I am not representing what I believe. I am allowing the voices of people who aren’t Christian to silence those who are.

These are troubling times, times when it may be easier to scorn Christianity than to adhere to it.

But as I sat in church on Maundy Thursday afternoon, I was reminded of how Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. He came to serve, not be served. If my faith means anything at all, and to me it means a great deal, I want to care like He cared. I want to obey the words He spoke at the Last Supper:

“So I give you a new command: Love each other deeply and fully. Remember the ways that I have loved you, and demonstrate your love for others in those same ways. Everyone will know you as My followers if you demonstrate your love to others.” ~John 13: 34-35 (The Voice translation)

That’s all that really matters.

That’s the final word.

The Boy Who Loved Rain

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I didn’t realize I had accepted the review of a book written by a pastor, poet and missionary who lives in Normandy, France. But opening  the book to find an epigraph written by Paul Tournier, and finding passages of text pertaining to faith, made me glad I had.

Fiona and David’s fourteen year old son is at the heart of this story about family. He vacillates between temper and apathy; he stays up late into the night and sleeps until noon the next day. He has trouble at school getting along with others, and his parents are often called in to speak to the administration. He wakes in the night with horrific nightmares about trying to save a sister he doesn’t have, a scenario in which he can find no sense. He has hidden a suicide pledge, sealed with a bloody thumbprint, behind a painting in his room. Something is terribly wrong.

His mother, in utter desperation, flees London to a little coastal town in Brittany named Portivy, on the peninsula of Quiberon. Her friend Miriam lives there, and with her wisdom Colom’s story is slowly revealed. It is the first time he is fully aware of his past, for his childhood was a darkly shadowed one; a childhood his parents thought best to leave undisclosed.

But when have secrets ever been helpful? When truth lies hidden, pain has the time it needs to grow until a near Herculean effort is required to vanquish it. This effort is what is required from both of Colom’s parents as they face their past and what they have left untold to their beloved son.

I was moved to discover that author Gerard Kelly uses the story of Jairus in the New Testament to address Colom’s situation in his novel. When he sees Jairus’ utter despair at the apparent death of his daughter, Jesus comes to bring her to life again. Miriam reminds Fiona that Jesus sends all of the adults out of the room and focuses on the daughter alone.

“An adolescent in crisis is always a family in crisis,” Miriam continued, “but adolescence is about identity; about becoming an individual. My thesis suggested that healing can’t begin until we acknowledge the child as the subject of their own story: the actor in their own journey. The adults who have held the child as the object in their story must let go. It’s the whisper of identity they’re waiting for. Life, spoken into them again.” (p. 223)

Can anything be harder than being a parent? In the best of situations, it requires endless patience, forgiveness, and hope. It requires taking the focus off of one’s self and letting the “child” stand on his own. My son is 24, and I’m still practicing this every day.

Other important things that Kelly includes in his novel are:

  • John Tavener’s  Ikon of Light, a beautiful piece of sacred music
  • a reference to a 300 year old text written by Jean-Pierre de Caussade (quite possibly from The Sacrament of The Present Moment: “The present moment holds infinite riches beyond your wildest dreams but you will only enjoy them to the extent of your faith and love. The more a soul loves, the more it longs, the more it hopes, the more it finds. The will of God is manifest in each moment, an immense ocean which only the heart fathoms insofar as it overflows with faith, trust and love.”)
  • a painting by Kandinsky named Farbstudie Quadrate
  • a quote pertaining to rain which precedes each chapter, from sources that include Garth Stein’s Racing in The Rain, Jack Kerouac’s On The Road, and Elie Wiesel’s Dawn.

Thank you to TLC Book Tours for the opportunity to read this book, to reflect on parenting, and childhood, and the necessity of truth under any circumstance. Thank you to Gerard Kelly for reminding us that uncovered secrets and forgiveness are the tools we need for healing. He blogs at godseesdiamonds.tumblr.com and is the founder of the twitter prayer stream @twitturgies.

My January Reading Plans: Part 3

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Every year I vow to reread the Bible. It is a book which never grows old, but is new every morning, and with each time through I understand something a little more. Or, I see something a little differently.

I thought I would read the Chronological Bible this year, wherein the sequence is arranged not as one would find in the order of the Bible, but in the order of the events as they happened. There is a reading plan here, should you wish to see it, or better yet, follow along.

I have chosen to read it in my King James translation, because the writing alone is beautiful beyond measure.

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But, the other thing I’m doing is writing down one verse from the day’s reading which seems to especially stand out in my heart. At the end of the year, I will have 365 verses to read in one continuous text, verses which highlight the year as well as His word as it spoke to me.

For me, this is the most important reading I will do in all of 2015.

The Silver Chair by C. S. Lewis

The best children’s books are the ones that adults can relate to the most. Like Charlotte’s Web, which though written for children, explains the sorrow of loss better than any book I know. Or, Flora and Ulysses which brings the trauma of divorce into high focus. But nobody takes on adult issues, and handles them so eloquently, as C. S. Lewis. And, it doesn’t matter how many times I read The Chronicles of Narnia, they speak to me afresh with each reread.

I just finished The Silver Chair this morning. It has all the things my son would love: swords and galleons, dwarfs and witches. But it has what I love, too: a way to look at things which make me sad that enables me to handle them.

Eustace Scrubb and Jill are sent on Aslan’s breath to fulfill a task he has for them. It is namely to find Prince Rilian, who has been bitten by a vicious worm, and bring him home. I won’t even go into the details of the story, the most obvious one being that the silver chair is a horrible enchantment of deception, except to dwell on the part with his father, King Caspian.

When the tasks are completed, and the Prince is finally home, his father’s ship comes into port. We are ready for a glorious reunion, and instead we sense that something is dreadfully wrong. King Caspian is brought forth on a bed, and he barely has time to greet his son before he dies. And I’m thinking, “What? All these tasks so bravely faced and courageously completed, for what?!”

But then C. S. Lewis takes us on Aslan’s breath to a new setting. To Home. And this is what we find:

Then he opened his mouth wide and blew. But this time they had no sense of flying through the air: instead it seemed that they remained still, and the wild breath of Aslan blew away the ship and the dead King and the castle and the snow and the winter sky.  For all these things floated off into the air like wreaths of smoke, and suddenly they were standing in a great brightness of summer sunshine, on smooth turf, among mighty trees, and beside a fair, fresh stream. Then they saw that they were once more on the mountain of Aslan high up above and beyond the end of the world in which Narnia lies. But the strange thing was that the funeral music for King Caspian still went on, though no one could tell where it came from. They were walking beside the stream and the Lion went before them: and he became so beautiful, and the music so despairing, that Jill did not know which of them it was that filled her eyes with tears. 

Then Aslan stopped, and the children looked into the stream. And there, on the golden gravel of the bed of the stream, lay King Caspian, dead, with the water flowing over him like liquid glass…

Then Eustace set his teeth and drove the thorn into the Lion’s pad. And there came out a great drop of blood, redder than all redness you have ever seen or imagined. And it splashed into the stream over the dead body of the King. At the same moment the doleful music stopped, and the dead King began to be changed. His white beard turned to grey, and from grey to yellow, and got shorter and vanished altogether; and his sunken cheeks grew round and fresh, and the wrinkles were smoothed and his eyes opened, and his eyes and lips both laughed, and suddenly he stood before them – a very young man, or a boy.

I know of no better way to describe the hope which I believe is ours. The hope from a Savior who loves us more than we can possibly imagine.

Good Friday Thoughts…Beyond The Shadows

Photo credit here.

Every time I feel sad, I feel guilty.

I ought not to feel sad. I have so much.
I have a job, a career of almost thirty years, that used to mean everything to me.
I have a home from the early 1960’s that could use repainting now, but it sits by the river giving me views I could never afford.
I have a loyal and true husband, and a son who is a Marine. Maybe he’ll be deported someday.
These are riches, but they come with shadows. 
It’s the same story; I look for perfection when it is not to be found. I look for assurance when there are no promises. I look for joy when sometimes there is too much disappointment.
“Into your hands I commit my spirit,” He said. He knew that He must look beyond the circumstances and trust. Sometimes trust is the hardest thing.
But, it is the most necessary.

Virtual Advent Tour Day 7: What We Need

 Marc Chagall, 1966

Perhaps the most significant gift
which could be given to any of us
is peace.

Not politicians in quarrel,
for a house divided cannot stand.
What we need
is a government upon his shoulders.

Not a heart of confusion,
unforgiveness, or envy.
What we need
is a wonderful counselor.

Not a father who turns his back,
seeking his own purposes.
What we need
is an everlasting father.

Not a peace which is temporary,
fleeting and unsubstantial,
dependent on circumstance or thing.
What we need
is the Prince of Peace.

Come, Lord Jesus.

National Day of Prayer

 
“Our theme for 2013 is Pray for America, emphasizing the need for individuals, corporately and individually, to place their faith in the unfailing character of their Creator, who is sovereign over all governments, authorities, and men. To further highlight our theme, we’ve chosen Matthew 12:21 as our Scripture for this year: “In His name the nations will put their hope.”
Seven teachers and I met in my classroom this morning for the National Day of Prayer. Of course it had to be before school hours, but how lovely to gather as a group and lift our nation, our school, our hearts up to the Lord.
 
It’s such an important day to remember that we are one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and just for all.

For God So Loved The World

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
Below is a photograph of the grotto my mother would take us to when my brother and I were small. It is in the grounds of the Sacred Heart Monastery, and I have always loved it for its beauty and peace. It’s just the quiet place to go to contemplate one’s faith. To ask for forgiveness. To feel His love. To begin again.
May the peace of The Lord be with you today and always.