Hi everyone! It's so good to be back to All Creation Speaks. My computer has been out of commission for over a week. It's still not fixed, so I'll have to send it in to the computer expert again sometime in the near future. Thanks for your patience.
So, the New Year is upon us. I know it sounds like a cliche, but. . . where did the year go? I thank God for all He has done in my life.
My year was filled with ministry at our church:
music: performing and teaching
women's ministries,
the adventure of making new friends and growing old relationships
writing opportunities: several stories published and interest from two publishers in one of my novels
starting a new Sunday School class at church that we named Soli Deo Gloria (to God alone is the glory)
trips to California to attend a niece's and a nephew's weddings,
a trip to Southern California to attend our granddaughter's first birthday party
a wonderful road trip in the Northwest
attending the birth of our third grandchild: a beautiful little boy
Hiring a wonderful carpenter to re-do our upstairs bathroom and the put in new log banisters in our main staircase
Writing a song that was sung and performed at our church
Singing the contralto solos in the Vivaldi Gloria. (This was a gift from God, because I really thought my performing days were over.)
This year, especially, I've been asking the Lord to increase my writing and speaking gift. Scripture says, "ye have not, because ye ask not." So, why not ask that God increase a gift that will be for His glory. . . soli Deo Gloria?
I look forward to seeing how God's answer to my request will play out during the 2011 year. My greatest desire is that I walk so closely to my Lord that I am a clean and unobstructed conduit for whatever is it that He wants to pour through my mind and onto the computer keyboard.
May He be praised!
And may you be blessed, encouraged, strengthened, comforted, inspired, even instructed
by whatever He pours through me this year.
God bless you in 2011!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Oops!
Dear friends, I made a mistake on my last blog post (Monday, Dec. 20th). Actually I won't be able to post again until Thursday, Dec. 30. My computer's going in for some much needed tuning-up.
Thanks for your patience. I hope to see you again on December 30th!
Thanks for your patience. I hope to see you again on December 30th!
The Ultimate God-Connection
My mother isn't a person of strong faith. But she does seem to approach the Christmas season with a kind of awe.
I think it's the music. It seems to help her feel a connection to God.
There's something undeniably majestic about music that was composed by incredibly talented musicians, inspired to express their faith.
Few people are unmoved by Handel's Halleluiah Chorus, or Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.
Even for people I know who deny that Jesus is the Son of God, the beautiful music still fills most of them with a sense of yearning for connection with an eternal and immense Something or Someone they cannot define.
Connection.
That's what Christmas is all about: God reaching downward to connect with His man-creation,
through Jesus Christ.
No matter how long and hard I think about it, I still cannot wrap my mind around the thought that God chose to begin His earthly life as a embryo in the body of a woman. That this woman labored, just as every other woman labors, then pushed God out of her womb.
He took His first breath. Waah! They probably wiped his bloody, and amniotic-slicked body with straw. He would have cried some more because it's cold in a cave, and they would have quickly washed Him and covered His little body with strips of cloth. Mary would have comforted Her son. Probably tried to nurse Him. Then He would have quieted and finally, they would have laid Him in that manger. God, lying in a manger, taking His first breath of straw and blood and animal dung.
The Almighty, the Great I AM entered time and space so that He could experience what we experience, so that He could be both God and man.
I think it's the music. It seems to help her feel a connection to God.
There's something undeniably majestic about music that was composed by incredibly talented musicians, inspired to express their faith.
Few people are unmoved by Handel's Halleluiah Chorus, or Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.
Even for people I know who deny that Jesus is the Son of God, the beautiful music still fills most of them with a sense of yearning for connection with an eternal and immense Something or Someone they cannot define.
Connection.
That's what Christmas is all about: God reaching downward to connect with His man-creation,
through Jesus Christ.
No matter how long and hard I think about it, I still cannot wrap my mind around the thought that God chose to begin His earthly life as a embryo in the body of a woman. That this woman labored, just as every other woman labors, then pushed God out of her womb.
He took His first breath. Waah! They probably wiped his bloody, and amniotic-slicked body with straw. He would have cried some more because it's cold in a cave, and they would have quickly washed Him and covered His little body with strips of cloth. Mary would have comforted Her son. Probably tried to nurse Him. Then He would have quieted and finally, they would have laid Him in that manger. God, lying in a manger, taking His first breath of straw and blood and animal dung.
The Almighty, the Great I AM entered time and space so that He could experience what we experience, so that He could be both God and man.
Connection.
"All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: "the virgin will be with child and will give birth to a Son, and they will call Him Immanuel --which means,
'God with us.'"
Note, the scripture says, "God with us."
Not, we with God.
What God knew we could never, ever do --reach upward and connect with God --
He did for us by reaching downward:
"Infant holy, infant lowly, for His bed a cattle stall;
Oxen lowing, little knowing Christ the Babe is Lord of all.
Swift are winging angels singing, noels ringing, tidings bringing;
Christ the Babe is Lord of all, Christ the Babe is Lord of all." (Infant Holy, Infant Lowly/Polish carol)
I will not be posting this Thursday, Dec. 23rd. Look for my regular posts to begin again on Monday, Dec. 27th. Have a blessed Christmas; may you draw near to Christ!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Great Adventure
Our pastor, Tom, recently quoted Helen Keller as saying," Life is either a great adventure, or it's nothing."
That quote is similar to the old adage: nothing ventured, nothing gained.
But I like Helen Keller's better; it's a stronger statement. Who wants to have a nothing life?
Like most people, when I hear a quote like that, I immediately ask myself, is my life a great adventure?
Yes!
Few people who meet me would know that I am a great adventurer.
I'm a little woman, barely five foot one. There's nothing special about my appearance. I'm a wife, a mother, now a grandmother, a musician, a teacher, a writer.
Most of my life has been lived in my home, my studio, my classrooms, and my church.
Where's the adventure in that?
I'm no Indiana Jones, who strolls out of his college lecture hall, then zooms across five continents to face some exotic danger.
But -- I'll bet you didn't know this -- years ago I was once a slave, laboring with others in the darkness of a dank and fearful cave. Cruel troll-masters snapped whips against my back, tearing my flesh, laughing when I screamed in agony.
One night, a Hero arrived and rescued me from that horrible domain of darkness. He magically transported me into a grand and wondrous Kingdom.
But evil trolls from that old slave-world are constantly trying to reach through the portal of the wondrous Kingdom, with gnarled, hoary hands, seeking to grasp me and drag me back into slavery.
I and my new Kingdom friends possess an ancient, enchanted scroll, which, when eaten, bestows power to be able to view through the portal and see when the trolls are approaching to attack. We are able to warn each other about the trolls.
At other times, we hike through the wondrous Kingdom, seeking to catch glimpses of the Maker of the enchanted scroll. It is said that He roams the Kingdom forests and meadows and sings a song so beautiful that all who hear it weep for joy.
Sound like an adventure?
There's way more to my story, but I'll save the rest for another day.
"For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." (Col. 1:13)
That quote is similar to the old adage: nothing ventured, nothing gained.
But I like Helen Keller's better; it's a stronger statement. Who wants to have a nothing life?
Like most people, when I hear a quote like that, I immediately ask myself, is my life a great adventure?
Yes!
Few people who meet me would know that I am a great adventurer.
I'm a little woman, barely five foot one. There's nothing special about my appearance. I'm a wife, a mother, now a grandmother, a musician, a teacher, a writer.
Most of my life has been lived in my home, my studio, my classrooms, and my church.
Where's the adventure in that?
I'm no Indiana Jones, who strolls out of his college lecture hall, then zooms across five continents to face some exotic danger.
But -- I'll bet you didn't know this -- years ago I was once a slave, laboring with others in the darkness of a dank and fearful cave. Cruel troll-masters snapped whips against my back, tearing my flesh, laughing when I screamed in agony.
One night, a Hero arrived and rescued me from that horrible domain of darkness. He magically transported me into a grand and wondrous Kingdom.
But evil trolls from that old slave-world are constantly trying to reach through the portal of the wondrous Kingdom, with gnarled, hoary hands, seeking to grasp me and drag me back into slavery.
I and my new Kingdom friends possess an ancient, enchanted scroll, which, when eaten, bestows power to be able to view through the portal and see when the trolls are approaching to attack. We are able to warn each other about the trolls.
At other times, we hike through the wondrous Kingdom, seeking to catch glimpses of the Maker of the enchanted scroll. It is said that He roams the Kingdom forests and meadows and sings a song so beautiful that all who hear it weep for joy.
Sound like an adventure?
There's way more to my story, but I'll save the rest for another day.
"For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." (Col. 1:13)
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Flower That Nobody Sees
These cornflowers rested in the sunshine off the beaten track near Lake Estes.
Doubtless, they are gone by now; this was last spring when I took the photo.
It probably seems strange to you, but wildflowers always make me think of my own life.
I suppose it the fleeting nature of their beauty and their life.
Nobody planted it.
Nobody cultivates it.
If a wild creature comes and chomps on it, nobody shoos the pest away.
It doesn't exist so that a human can come by and admire it.
But there it sits, displaying its beauty, attracting bees, sending its DNA on to some other place in the wilderness so that another flower -- sun-kissed and wind-caressed --will grow for no one to see.
No one?
How about the Creator who lovingly fashioned the flower's delicate petals, its graceful stalk, the perfect elliptical form of its leaves.
Is it a small thing to exist to bring God enjoyment?
Sometimes I wrestle with my job as a writer. I think, why do I spend so much time working on this craft, trying to come up with words that will encourage, uplift, make one think, point out God?
Does anybody notice? Are my words doing anything at all? That old, silly question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one's there to hear it fall, does it make a sound?
I always thought the answer to that question was obvious. Of course, because God witnesses the fall of the tree He created. You don't need a human around to record the event by scratching with a stick on a piece of stone or a leaf or a piece of parchment.
So, like the flower, do I exist and do I have any purpose if no one's there to see and approve my work?
Is it a small thing if --even if no one reads anything I write -- that God sits on my shoulder each day, witnessing my effort to bring glory to Him?
Are you like that flower in the wilderness, also. Does your faithful work each day go un-witnessed?
God sees and He records each faithful deed.
Bringing Him glory --whether or not anyone sees the fruit of your work --IS the work.
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward." (Col.3:23)
Doubtless, they are gone by now; this was last spring when I took the photo.
It probably seems strange to you, but wildflowers always make me think of my own life.
I suppose it the fleeting nature of their beauty and their life.
Nobody planted it.
Nobody cultivates it.
If a wild creature comes and chomps on it, nobody shoos the pest away.
It doesn't exist so that a human can come by and admire it.
But there it sits, displaying its beauty, attracting bees, sending its DNA on to some other place in the wilderness so that another flower -- sun-kissed and wind-caressed --will grow for no one to see.
No one?
How about the Creator who lovingly fashioned the flower's delicate petals, its graceful stalk, the perfect elliptical form of its leaves.
Is it a small thing to exist to bring God enjoyment?
Sometimes I wrestle with my job as a writer. I think, why do I spend so much time working on this craft, trying to come up with words that will encourage, uplift, make one think, point out God?
Does anybody notice? Are my words doing anything at all? That old, silly question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one's there to hear it fall, does it make a sound?
I always thought the answer to that question was obvious. Of course, because God witnesses the fall of the tree He created. You don't need a human around to record the event by scratching with a stick on a piece of stone or a leaf or a piece of parchment.
So, like the flower, do I exist and do I have any purpose if no one's there to see and approve my work?
Is it a small thing if --even if no one reads anything I write -- that God sits on my shoulder each day, witnessing my effort to bring glory to Him?
Are you like that flower in the wilderness, also. Does your faithful work each day go un-witnessed?
God sees and He records each faithful deed.
Bringing Him glory --whether or not anyone sees the fruit of your work --IS the work.
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward." (Col.3:23)
Thursday, December 9, 2010
"HE's got the tiny, little baby in His hands."
I held my newborn grandson the other day. I gazed at his precious face and examined his perfect, little hands. Such a masterpiece. I love him already.
Roen mainly sleeps. But when he wakes, his large, dark blue eyes track movement around him. He smiles for no reason, then just as quickly, grimaces or yawns.
His whole, perfectly formed head fits neatly into my hand. (That's my hand in the picture)
I thought about that old song, "He's Got The Whole World in His Hands."
The verses go something like this: "He's got the whole world in His hands."
Second verse: "He's got the wind and the rain in His hands."
Third verse: "He's got the tiny, little baby in His hands."
Finally: "He's got you and me, brother, in His hands."
For just a few months, my tiny, little grandson will fit neatly in my arms. Then he'll grow too big. He'll toddle around for a few months. Later, he'll run and jump and play. One day, perhaps, he'll be on the football team in high school. Roen will grow tall and strong, too tall and strong to be held in a frail grandmother's hands. One day he'll be a man.
But Roen will always be in God's hands.
He'll never outgrow God.
I hope Roen learns that fact at an early age.
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
He will cover you with His feathers and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." (Psalm 91: 1,4)
Roen mainly sleeps. But when he wakes, his large, dark blue eyes track movement around him. He smiles for no reason, then just as quickly, grimaces or yawns.
His whole, perfectly formed head fits neatly into my hand. (That's my hand in the picture)
I thought about that old song, "He's Got The Whole World in His Hands."
The verses go something like this: "He's got the whole world in His hands."
Second verse: "He's got the wind and the rain in His hands."
Third verse: "He's got the tiny, little baby in His hands."
Finally: "He's got you and me, brother, in His hands."
For just a few months, my tiny, little grandson will fit neatly in my arms. Then he'll grow too big. He'll toddle around for a few months. Later, he'll run and jump and play. One day, perhaps, he'll be on the football team in high school. Roen will grow tall and strong, too tall and strong to be held in a frail grandmother's hands. One day he'll be a man.
But Roen will always be in God's hands.
He'll never outgrow God.
I hope Roen learns that fact at an early age.
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
He will cover you with His feathers and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." (Psalm 91: 1,4)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Yep, I'm Talking to You!
Bruce snapped this photo from his downstairs office. The big bull elk was snarfing down some tasty grass when his ears alerted him to the whir of my husband's digital camera.
Elk always make me laugh when they try to look at you straight on. Their eyes are set low on the sides of their long heads --- perfect for seeing behind and sideward ---for catching any movement that might signal the presence of a predator.
Mr. Elk was only a few feet from the sliding glass window on the lower level of our house. He swung his head up, grass still hanging off the sides of his mouth, and seemed to say, "You talkin' to me?"
Yes, Mr. Elk, we're talking to you. We want to capture your image and put it on our computer. We enjoy you, we admire your beauty, your magnificent antlers, your thick mane, the size of you. When you look straight at us, and we look back, we kind of feel as if we have a relationship with you.
Sometimes, like Mr. Elk, I am also caught unaware by the presence of an admirer: my Heavenly Father.
I seek Him each day because He has what I need. I have a relationship with Him and so I long to see Him, to be close, to listen, to speak.
But I sometimes forget that He also seeks me, loves to watch me, enjoys me, delights in our relationship.
Just like the elk, I go about my daily activities and am startled at times by the sudden awareness that God is very, very near.
These are the times when I raise my (spiritual) head and ask, "Lord, are You talking to me?"
"The Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their trust in His unfailing love." (Psalm 147:11)
Elk always make me laugh when they try to look at you straight on. Their eyes are set low on the sides of their long heads --- perfect for seeing behind and sideward ---for catching any movement that might signal the presence of a predator.
Mr. Elk was only a few feet from the sliding glass window on the lower level of our house. He swung his head up, grass still hanging off the sides of his mouth, and seemed to say, "You talkin' to me?"
Yes, Mr. Elk, we're talking to you. We want to capture your image and put it on our computer. We enjoy you, we admire your beauty, your magnificent antlers, your thick mane, the size of you. When you look straight at us, and we look back, we kind of feel as if we have a relationship with you.
Sometimes, like Mr. Elk, I am also caught unaware by the presence of an admirer: my Heavenly Father.
I seek Him each day because He has what I need. I have a relationship with Him and so I long to see Him, to be close, to listen, to speak.
But I sometimes forget that He also seeks me, loves to watch me, enjoys me, delights in our relationship.
Just like the elk, I go about my daily activities and am startled at times by the sudden awareness that God is very, very near.
These are the times when I raise my (spiritual) head and ask, "Lord, are You talking to me?"
"The Lord delights in those who fear Him, who put their trust in His unfailing love." (Psalm 147:11)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
What You Don't See
The other day I recognized the barking of our neighbor's golden retriever. I stepped out onto our deck and was greeted by this picture.
The deer appears to be baiting the retriever.
She backs off, then hops forward and stomps the ground with her front hooves.
The dog darts from side to side, it's tail held high. I wonder what would happen if the fence were suddenly removed.
Looks like a stalemate.
For twenty minutes the two creatures eye each other, neither one backing down.
Why doesn't the deer simply meander off and graze at a more pleasant pasture?
Silly deer.
But what the camera doesn't capture is the rest of the situation.
About twenty feet behind the doe are her two half-grown fawns.
Ah, now the picture makes sense. Mom deer thinks she's protecting her kids.
Sometimes we get so close to a situation we can't see the whole picture. We see only a slice and make judgments based on a small piece of information. We need someone to remind us to back up and look with a more objective distance.
Our Christian faith calls us to "set our minds on things above, not on earthly things."
Faith calls us to see the entire picture, inside and outside of history. Our physical eyes see only a miniscule portion of the Kingdom in which we live. But, by faith we choose to see through God's heavenly perspective.
Losing a job
Suffering some kind of set-back
An illness. . .
I have a choice to make each day and in every situation. I can choose to stay with my nose pressed up way too close to my "photo," ignoring the entire picture.
Or, by faith, I can choose to see the unseeable, which is, actually, the real picture.
"For we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen." (2 Cor. 4:18)
The deer appears to be baiting the retriever.
She backs off, then hops forward and stomps the ground with her front hooves.
The dog darts from side to side, it's tail held high. I wonder what would happen if the fence were suddenly removed.
Looks like a stalemate.
For twenty minutes the two creatures eye each other, neither one backing down.
Why doesn't the deer simply meander off and graze at a more pleasant pasture?
Silly deer.
But what the camera doesn't capture is the rest of the situation.
About twenty feet behind the doe are her two half-grown fawns.
Ah, now the picture makes sense. Mom deer thinks she's protecting her kids.
Sometimes we get so close to a situation we can't see the whole picture. We see only a slice and make judgments based on a small piece of information. We need someone to remind us to back up and look with a more objective distance.
Our Christian faith calls us to "set our minds on things above, not on earthly things."
Faith calls us to see the entire picture, inside and outside of history. Our physical eyes see only a miniscule portion of the Kingdom in which we live. But, by faith we choose to see through God's heavenly perspective.
Losing a job
Suffering some kind of set-back
An illness. . .
I have a choice to make each day and in every situation. I can choose to stay with my nose pressed up way too close to my "photo," ignoring the entire picture.
Or, by faith, I can choose to see the unseeable, which is, actually, the real picture.
"For we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen." (2 Cor. 4:18)
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