Grandma, her's was my second home. I well remember riding my bike the several miles to where I would spend the day trudging between my cousin's home and Grandma's. In the backyard there was an old wooden table where Grandma kept her empty flower pots of all sizes. It seems like just a few days ago when Brandon and I would stand at that old table and mix up the very best mud soup, and you couldn't find any better mud cookies and cakes in the whole neighborhood! Grandma never seemed to mind the brown coating left on her pots. Grandma loved us grandchildren. She only had three—two boys and a girl (yes, I was the only girl!). She made sure to include us in her life. Whether it was teaching us how to fill frames at their custom picture framing shop or drying flowers for the cards that she loved to make, she enjoyed having us by her side. I’ll never forget the time her and I went through her rock garden searching for snails. There was an endless supply of them it seemed. When Grandma got one she would put it on the rocks and smash it with her finger. I wasn’t so tough as to endure the slim and guts oozing through my fingers so I used another rock to do the extermination. We spent hours doing this, but you know, there was never again such an abundant infestation of snails. There was an extra room in Grandma’s house, which I was sure belonged to her three grandchildren. She had a bookcase with old children's books in there and a few toys. We always kept it in order, Grandma wouldn't have it any other way. There were certain boundaries you just didn't cross with Grandma. I only remember once when I mumbled under my breath a disrespectful remark. Grandma never moved so fast. Before I could blink, it seemed, she spun my chair around and looked me square in the face. I never crossed the line again. You could always count on there being cereal and rice or soy milk or fruit juice for breakfast at Grandma's. And you always used a placemat at the table. Grandma was a perfectionist, an amazing artist, and very particular. And yet I never felt like I wasn't good enough or like the expectations were too high. The love she poured into those around her may have made the difference. She was a tough woman yet always ready to tenderly put her hand on yours or wrap you in her arms. You knew she loved having you around. Her words of appreciation flowed freely. "I'm so glad you're here," she would say. "Thank you for spending time with me." Out of all my grandparents, Grandma Kathleen was the one I spent the most time with and was the closest to. When I was 12 Grandma signed me up for a watercolor class, or maybe she got special permission to bring me along. This wasn't a children's get together. This was a class with the Arizona Watercolor Association. Many of those attending were outstanding, professional artists, my grandma included. I was the only child there. It was an amazing opportunity in my young life. On occasion when I was at Grandma's she would let me in the forbidden room. It was kind of like her office where she had all her art supplies. I remember passing the hours there with her as we both sketched and painted little mailboxes or made cards with the great assortment of pressed flowers she had personally gathered and dried. She loved nature and natural beauty. Her yard always had a great variety of flowers—foxgloves, hollyhocks, irises, etc. The ornamental poppies were one of her favorites. The seeds were from her own mother and every year they spread freely. In her paintings Grandma almost always included one of God’s creatures—a bee, a turtle, a hummingbird. She loved the things of nature. She also loved God. The back of her car always had a book or pamphlet that she could give away if the opportunity presented itself. I’m sure she gave out hundreds of pieces of literature through the years. She wasn’t shy about sharing her faith. She was the only one of my grandparents who was a Christian and if it had not been for her commitment I wouldn't be a Seventh-day Adventist today. I owe so much to her countless prayers and dedication. When my grandparents met, Grandpa started going to church after he was told he couldn't marry Grandma because he wasn't a Christian. But a year after the wedding he never went back to church. Grandma kept going and prayed for him every day, for 64 years. With tears in her eyes she would tell us grandchildren to pray for Grandpa too. She loved him so much. Another thing about Grandma was that she was so optimistic. Yes, she had her moments; yes, she wasn't always easy to deal with, but she was not a gloomy person. All her life she lived with pain and the last 15 years were especially intense after a failed back surgery. But when asked how she was doing, her usual sunny reply was, "Oh great!" or at the least, with a smile, "I'm doing fine." She wasn’t a big talker. When we would occasionally speak on the phone she would ask how I was doing and then say in her cheerful way, “You sound so good!” Our conversations never lasted more than 5 minutes, they didn’t need to. She knew I was well and happy, I knew she loved me. Grandma was such a strong woman. By many she wouldn’t have been classified as the most beautiful, outgoing, or talented. But she was dedicated, hardworking, optimistic, focused, loving. She was a real woman. She gave me the inheritance of family, the love of natural beauty, an appreciation of time and little things, the example of a committed long-lasting marriage, and most of all a love for God and others. With such an inheritance I am rich, rich in the things that matter most. At last Grandma is at rest. No more work for her to do, no more pain wracks her body, no more tears fall from her cheeks, no more questions crowd her mind, no more disappointments burden her heart, she is at rest, asleep in Jesus (John 11:11-14; Psalm 146:4; Ecclesiastes 9:5). I will miss her but I am thankful for her life and that now she can rest until her Savior comes to take her from the grave to her heavenly home where there will only be joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing will flee away (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17; Isaiah 35:10). Sweet Jesus, thank You for this hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13).
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Hymns have been called sermons in song. And truly, the old classics hold within them a depth and power that is rooted in God's word and personal, practical Christianity. Let's look at one of those hymns today and see just how closely this is true. Our hymn is #499, What a Friend We Have in Jesus.
The first phrase begins: What a Friend we have in Jesus, Do we know this to be true from God's word? Proverbs 18:24 "A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." The hymn continues: All our sins and griefs to bear! Has this Friend borne our griefs? Tell me where we know this from the Bible? Isaiah 53:4 "Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted." What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer! Are we really supposed to take everything to God in prayer? Does He really want to hear us? Philippians 4:6 "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God." Psalm 55:22 "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." O what peace we often forfeit, What does God say about those who don't have peace? Isaiah 57:19-21 "I create the fruit of the lips; Peace, peace to him that is far off, and to him that is near, saith the LORD; and I will heal him. But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." Philippines 4:7, Isa 26 stayed upon thee O what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry Everything to God in prayer! Psalm 43:5 "Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me?...hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." What a Friend We Have In Jesus was grounded in the word of God, but it also came from one who had pain and suffering and knew where to find a Friend who understood at all times. “That looks like a sober man, I think I’ll hire him to cut wood for me.” That was said of a man on the streets of Lake Rice, Canada, as he walked along carrying a wood saw and a sawhorse. The response from a man nearby was, “That’s Joseph Scriven. He wouldn’t cut wood for you because you can afford to hire him. He only cuts wood for those who don’t have money enough to pay.” That seemed to be the philosophy and attitude of Scriven, a devoted member of the Plymouth Brethren Church. He had a sincere desire to help those who were truly destitute. Joseph was born on Sept. 10, 1819, in Ireland. His parents had financial means enough to afford a wonderful…opportunity for their son….In this young man, Ireland had the prospect of a great citizen with high ideals and notable aspirations. He fell in love with a young lady who was eager to spend her life with him. However, on the day before their wedding she fell from her horse, while crossing a bridge over the River Bann and was drowned in the water below. Joseph stood helplessly watching from the other side. In an effort to overcome his sorrow, he began to wander. By age 25 his travels had taken him to an area near Port Hope, Canada. He became highly regarded by the people of that area. He tutored some of the local children in their school work. It was there he met a wonderful young lady, Elisa Roche, and again fell in love. They had exciting plans to be married. However, tragedy reared its ugly head once again and she died of pneumonia before they could wed. --By Lindsay Terry It was this man who had his hopes and dreams crushed more than once who penned the words, What a friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear! What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer! Oh, what peace we often forfeit, Oh, what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry Everything to God in prayer. “The relation between God and each soul is distinct. His care to you is as minute as though there were no other soul to claim his attention. The psalmist says, ‘Thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. There is not a word in my tongue, but lo, O Lord, Thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.’ ‘Thou tellest my wanderings; put Thou my tears in thy bottle; are they not in thy book?’ In the words of the psalmist is expressed the intimacy and tenderness with which God cares for his creatures. ‘For we have not an High Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’ “We should realise that we have a friend at court, one who can plead the cause of our soul, one who will be our helper in every emergency. We should be able to sing, – What a Friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear; What a privilege to carry Everything to God in prayer. (Messenger January 4, 1893) As I got up from knees, about to climb into bed, my eyes fell on the picture frame on my nightstand, "Without Change There Would Be No Butterflies." Such a deep thought. I don't know about you but the idea of change fills me with apprehension and my stomach tightens at the prospect. I like the familiar, the known. Even in hard and difficult situations I am loath to venture out into the unknown. And yet change must come. Some of the best things have been because of changes in my life. I still hesitate to embrace it though, let alone run after it. But without change there would be no butterflies. With God every change can bring forth something beautiful, not always immediately, but it will come.
The words to that beloved hymn echo in my ears, Be still, my soul; the Lord is on your side; Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain; Leave to your God to order and provide; In every change he faithful will remain. Be still, my soul; your best, your heavenly Friend Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end. Blessed promise. In every change He faithful will remain. May we trust our Father, He knows our need. Work had finally ended, it was about time. I stepped outside and took a deep breath, the cool air bringing brief refreshment to my weary mind and body. I walked up the hill aimlessly then gathering purpose I turned toward the meadow. I needed to walk, think, and pray. The disappointment and frustration of the last couple weeks weighed down on me. As I neared the meadow questions pressed upon my heart, What do I really want from life anyway? Do I want to spend another 5 years doing what I’m doing, working where I’m working? Is this what God wants me to do? Discontent had been mounting at work. Not that I don’t like what I’m doing. I’m the type of person who is perfectly fine with answering phones or copying pages. But is this what God wants me to do for the rest of my life? I’m not a big dreamer. I’m not super ambitious. I’m a committed person. If there’s a project I’ve set my heart on that will take years to accomplish, I’ll do it. But I’m not the kind of person who sits around dreaming up big projects, great undertakings, grand adventures. No, that’s not me. I’m a supporter of other people’s dreams. I’m the grease that helps those dreams run smoother. Now, I have dreamed before, but much simpler dreams....some of them have come true, some are still in the process, and some will probably never become reality.
I'm 30, almost 31 and for the first time in my life, my age scares me. What do I really want from life anyway? My life so far has been fulfilling. I've done many things, I've helped people, day by day I've done my best to further God's work, but is this enough? What's the next step? The Sabbath sermon from the Education seminar has been echoing in my mind...Respectable Conventionality. Are even my simple dreams really at their core falling into the category of "respectable conventionality"? I've given my life to ministry, but is it enough? What if I never change my job, what if I never get married, what if I never move, what if I never go anywhere, what if I am still at the same place doing the same thing for the next 10 years, will this life be fulfilling? Yes, it would, if I can know that's what God wants. I'm not a mover and a shaker. I'm more like the glue that tries to hold things together. But even glue gets old and hardens over time if it isn't used for it's purpose. With these thoughts weighing upon my heart on that "spring-like" evening, I finally reached the meadow as the sun was setting. Sitting on the bench I stared up at the sky. The simplicity of the display thrilled my heart. Pink, orange, blue, gray, white, yellow stretched overhead, not in absolute grander, but in delicate modest patterns. To me it was beautiful. I’ve always loved watching the sky. I sat there for a while, noticing the colors change and spread. And as I watched I prayed. What’s next Lord? What do You want with my life? I only want Your will. Replace my simple dreams with Yours. Help me to know what You want from my life. Show me what's next. As darkness started to descend I still didn't know the answer to all those troubling thoughts, but I knew that no matter what, I had an All-Wise Heavenly Father in my life and He would help me through every disappointment, in time He would answer my every question. He was a simple guy but there was something about him that drew him into my heart and gave him the title of Dad. It was a time of change for me and God knew I needed a father figure since my dad was many thousands of miles away. He was only the third man who had earned that title in my life so you know I valued him highly. He was thoughtful and kind; dedicated to God and his wife. He was always ready to encourage me or offer a clever remark. His Jewish roots just made the bond all the deeper. He was the first one who ever wrote a poem for me and in turn inspired me to try my hand at rhyme as well. I spent many happy hours and weekends at the home in the mountains. God gave me a gift when I needed it most in my "bee parents". It was hard when I received the call late last year that he was declining, but though bedridden, he had so much strength left and surprised everyone by hanging on for 14 more months. In May I was able to see him one more time. We shared in music, he on his harmonica, me on the violin. We talked. We laughed. We cried. And we prayed. He didn’t want us to leave. It was hard. He endured 7 more months of pain and on December 14, the day after my own father’s birthday, he was finally able to rest. My only regret is that I didn’t take the time to call once more when he came to mind last week. For that I am truly sorry. Dad Bee was a very special man. I will miss his humor, his thoughtfulness, his sweet singing, his honesty, his prayers, and his love. Now he rests, but in a little while he’ll see the King! “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 15:55-58) His poems for me...
_____ WB – 11/24/10 An evergreen tree Like Kimberly Alive, ever growing As the sower sowing As the blossom blooming Like a cannon booming As a sunny day Not gloomy or gray. Full of joy and mirth Blest the day of birth Standing tall and strong She sings God’s song. _____ To my sweet daughter, Little lady with aburn hair, I see you there Lite up with joy, Confident in the Lord, Hard working, never bored. What will you do? Yes, God will lead you, As life is flowing, May His love enfold you, May His thoughts now mold you, May His wisdom guide you, And His power abide you. Little lady, barely tall, Blessings to you-all. Love from your adopted Jewish/gentile father, WB - 12/15/10 _____ My Blessing Upon You 4/16/11 – WB Little Miss, thy beaming face so bright, Another day older, thy burdens are light, Life flows on, time reads always right, And no matter what, you must do what’s right. Life does have meaning as nature tells clear, Look to the blossom, to the robin so near, They all tell us that in God there’s no fear, For He will care for us, every day of the year. All the blessings lie before you I know, Protected and guided wherever you go. So expect great adventure will grow Wherever He leads you. And so-- Take no thought for tomorrow, today, The angels of mercy will follow your way, And though the road be rough, never say, “Life is so hard,” at the end of the day. For Little Miss, your destiny Is to lighten and brighten history, To bless the downtrodden in misery, To give hope to all, your ministry, Kimberly! _____ Going Onward WB - 6/5/11 Kim-ber-ly, Watchah see? Can't see to far-- Kim-ber-ly, Alabamee, The door's ajar. Take this step, Kim Just lean on Him The path is there With never a doubt With hope all about To guide and to care. The course may be new The way have no view Yet, new vistas will rise The future will fly O're a field that is nigh And open the skies. Fear not, only joy That you're new-employ Not to work alone Free to expand your wings To attain great everythings To reap what you've sown. Oh, such a vision Before you, and decisions But great be His love Great in His shadow You'll be as you grow Destined for above. Jean was visiting her neighbor Shirley at her house next door. As they chatted Jean felt a little strange, then it happened, her second child was ready to see the world. "You better get to the hospital!" Shirley warned, the urgency in her voice. Jean's husband Paul didn't waste much time and soon they were welcoming their precious little boy into this world, Gary Michael.
A lot has changed since that day, 68 years ago. That little boy is no longer the precious baby in his mother's arms, but rather a grown man with children of his own. I didn't know him all those years ago, but I know him now in ways that few ever will, because I am his daughter. Though our time together has been broken up over the years, much of who I am is because of this man. I could write the same of my dear mother, and so much more, but that's for another time. This tribute is for the first man in my life who encouraged me, corrected me, listened to me, appreciated me, held me, and who most of all loved me. Dad wasn't perfect, he messed up, he didn't know how to be a father, but he tried, he did the best he knew. And for that, despite all the shortcomings, I'm grateful. If there is one thing that I never needed to question, that was beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that Dad loved me and believed in me. There were times when he didn't understand my choices, when he didn't approve of my decisions, but I knew he just wanted the best for me. He made sure I knew his thoughts, but in the end, he let me live my life and find my way. Through the years Dad would tease me, "you're my number one daughter," to which I would always reply, "I'm your ONLY daughter." I owe so much to this man--my humor, my love of words, my sense for money, my heritage, my love for time, my interest in people, and the list goes on...I am my father's daughter. Yes, sometimes that isn't so good and I've had to recognize my weaknesses, but also my strengths. Whether we like it or not, we are a reflection of our parents. Our challenge is to take the good and shun the bad. Today I want to acknowledge the good. So Dad, thank you for all that you have given me. The coming years will hold new challenges, life is ever changing, but no matter what, you will always be my first and dearly loved dad! No one can ever take that place in my heart. My prayer for your new year is that you will know God's redeeming grace personally, that you will walk with Him sincerely, and that His love will transform your life and make it into something more beautiful than you could have ever dreamed. Happy Birthday! I love you! Have you ever had the feeling that someone was praying for you? There have been several times in my life when I just had to stop and wonder, "Is someone, somewhere, praying for me?" I never had the confirmation that this was indeed happening at that particular moment but I am quite sure that somewhere in this world, at sometime, someone has prayed for me. I've prayed for them too. Is that a strange thought? To pray for someone you haven't met or don't know who they are? It may be strange, but it's also special. Yes, I've prayed that God would mold them for His service, that they would be true to principle, that God would teach them the precious truths that have grown near to my heart, that they would be strong and pure, thoughtful and kind, that they're feet would be planted on a sure foundation, that God would raise up faithful mentors to guide and encourage, that they would be courageous and victorious in the battles of life, and sometimes I've just prayed that they would have a special blessing on that very day...Yes, I've prayed for someone I don't know and may not have even met yet, and I have a strong feeling that they have prayed for me too.
You know what though? This idea isn't so strange, it's not even a new idea. Many, many years ago, before I was born, before you were born, someone prayed for me, and someone prayed for you too. Someone prayed that we would become all that we could be, that we wouldn't give up, that our faith would not fail. That someone was Jesus. In Luke 22:32, Christ said, "I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not..." Jesus said those words over 2000 years ago but He speaks them still to you and to me. That's amazing; that's an amazing love. Friend, when you're discouraged know someone is praying for you; when your strength feels like it's going to fail, know someone is praying for you; and even when your day is full of sunshine and you just feel like smiling, know someone praying for you. Always remember, someone has prayed for you, someone is praying for you, and someone will pray for you. Keep following our Example. This little one...four years ago she became my first violin student. At times I wondered if she would be my last too. It wasn't easy. I felt far from qualified to fill the position as her teacher, and she felt far from willing to rise to the challenge of learning the instrument. It was hard. We both wanted to give up, but we kept going through tears and smiles. Four years later she's still playing, and I'm still teaching (now to 7 other students). While I am no longer her violin teacher she will always have a special place in my heart. She has been the subject of countless prayers, not just for playing the violin, but for becoming all that God wants her to be. Today on her 13th birthday, this is what I want to say......
Dearest A---, I’ll never forget the day your dad came up to me in the ---- chapel and asked if I would teach you violin. I felt far from qualified for the job, but he was persistent. Thus began our journey together, you learning the violin, me learning to teach. It was a process. We both definitely had our challenges, we both wanted to give up at times, but we didn’t! Four years later I sit back and rejoice in the progress you have made and woman you are becoming. Even though those weekly lessons were far from easy, I wouldn’t trade that time with you. You were my first violin student, my special little friend. Now you are entering a new phase of life. You’re growing up. There will be new challenges to face. Things won’t be easy, but as you have done with the violin, keep pressing forward. Never let the difficulties overcome you. With the strength of Jesus you can conquer every trial and master every challenge. God has a special place for you in His service. He has given you many talents and gifts. Use them to honor Him and you will be blessed. Always remember that you are of infinite value. Have a very happy birthday and a wonderful new year! Life. What does that word even mean? What is life all about anyway? Have you ever had those thoughts? Yes yes, we know the “right” answer—glorify God and win souls for the kingdom of heaven. But what does that look like day to day? What does it feel like? Isn’t it strange…we get up each day, we eat, we work, we may do some extra things that we enjoy—or not so much—we go to bed, only to repeat the whole process again. Life.
Giving up. Have you ever wanted to give? Give up on a situation; give up on a person; give up on a relationship; give up on a project; give up on doing what you’ve always done; just give up. Life seems dead, like it doesn’t really matter. You look around at those you love, and you ask, How have I really made a difference in their lives? Your ideas and standards are met with scorn or at best as simply “your own opinion,” nothing worth embracing, not even worth studying to see how those conclusions were made. You stand alone. It’s painful to hear the comments, the encouragement in worldly ways. You’ve failed. Failed in sharing truth even amongst your closest friends. So you’ve given up. Then you try to settle it in your mind, Your job isn’t to convince, it’s only to plant seeds. But that doesn’t change how discouraged you feel inside. Life. I’ve been there. I know what those thoughts and feelings are like. I became a Christian when I was 13-14 years old. Life went on and with it ups and downs in my spiritual walk. There were times when I was "alive" and when I was "dead." Those early years were in a way some of the hardest because you’re learning how to walk the straight and narrow, and yet they were also some of the easiest because you see your need and you know that God is the only one who can help you. As time passes the challenges in the Christian walk change form. It’s easy as the years roll by to get complacent, to just go along, whatever happens happens. We lose our sense of priorities. It takes place oh so subtly. After being in this Christian journey for many years I began to really struggle. It was a different type of struggle than I had experienced before. I just felt like giving up; giving up on work; giving up on friendships; just giving up. My purpose for life was dying. I want to take you back to when the climax came…. It was a Sabbath afternoon. I had been with friends for most of the afternoon but I just wasn’t there, mentally. Finally I left the group and went for a walk. I want you to put yourself there. You’re walking, walking, walking. Your mind is full and you begin to ask yourself questions… Why do certain things matter? Why should it matter if anyone appreciates what I do? Why should it matter when it seems like it’s a waste of someone’s time to talk with me? Why should it matter if anyone is interested in what I have to say? Why should it matter if anyone accepts the truths I have learned about music, dress, personal appearance, conversation, or anything else? Why should it matter if no one likes my singing or playing? Why should it matter if no one supports my efforts? Why should anything I do or say matter? And then it’s as if God speaks through the storm of your thoughts, It matters to you only if your sense of value and worth comes from those things. If no one ever stopped to talk to you or was interested in what you had to say, if no one ever commented on how they appreciated your contributions, if no one ever made you a priority in their life, if no one ever supported you in anything, would you still do it? And if you wouldn’t, why? Would you feel worthless? I’ve been a fairly confident, secure individual, most of my life. But I also have had a sense of being highly valued by those around me. When that is stripped away and you’re left with just being one among many, do you feel worthless? That is not what makes us valuable. On that Sabbath afternoon walk I knew that truth, intellectually but there was a heart problem. When you find someone sprawled on the ground you immediately check their level of alertness. If they are unresponsive then you check for a pulse and signs of life. If none, then you begin CPR. What are you trying to do? Get the heart pumping—there’s a heart problem. They need to be revived. “Revival signifies a renewal of spiritual life, a quickening of the powers of mind and heart, a resurrection from the spiritual death.” (E. G. White, Christian Service, p. 42) In one of my favorite books it asks, “Who has the heart? With whom are our thoughts? Of whom do we love to converse? Who has our warmest affections and our best energies? If we are Christ's, our thoughts are with Him, and our sweetest thoughts are of Him. All we have and are is consecrated to Him. We long to bear His image, breathe His spirit, do His will, and please Him in all things.” (E. G. White, Steps to Christ, p. 58) “The world claims the heart; but that heart belongs to the One who redeemed it. If given to the world, it will be filled with care, sorrow, and disappointed hopes; it will become impure and corrupted.” (E. G. White, Messages to Young People, p. 407) Are we filled with care, sorrow, and disappointed hopes? We have a heart problem. On that Sabbath afternoon as I was walking alone, God said, You have a heart problem. If I were never able to speak without fumbling along, if I always squeaked and messed up when playing an instrument, if I couldn’t hit a right note for anything when I sang, if I were never able to get anyone to do anything, if I was never good enough for people or my work appreciated, I would still be of value. The tears streamed down my face. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane saw me, He saw you. He was misunderstood and forsaken by EVERYONE. NO ONE SUPPORTED HIM OR APPECIATED HIM. And yet, He did it anyway. In the midst of His suffering and pain He saw me [put yourself there] and He said, “I’ll do it for her.” As the great drops of sweaty blood were dripping down His troubled face and He clung to the ground in anguish, He said, “She is precious to Me. I want her to be with me for all eternity. I’ll do it for her.” WOW ME! He valued me of infinite worth (put yourself there), not because I could do anything for Him, but because He loved me. He wants to be with me. He wants to hear what I have to say, with all my imperfect, stammering words, and He’s the BEST listener ever. He wants to talk with me. He never considers time with me a waste. He never belittles my comments or ideas. If I am wrong, He seeks to redirect me. He loves me, not for what or who I am. He sees in me something He wants to polish and make beautiful. I wanted to give up. I failed; failed in friendships; failed in serving; failed in so many areas. I was dissatisfied with life. What did it all mean? What was it all for? It's hard to keep going when you feel like it's all a waste--all worthless. So you have to ask, why? You have to get to the root--it’s a heart problem. In the garden of Gethsemane Christ looked down through the ages and saw you. "I want that one to be with Me for all eternity. I'll go to Calvary for them." That thought breaks my heart, but also sets me free. That’s what gives me revival. Let’s consider two main characters/stories and a description of their expressions.
“…Satan…once was, a happy, exalted angel….[But now he is quite changed.] He still bears a kingly form. His features are still noble, for he is an angel fallen. But the expression of his countenance is full of anxiety, care, unhappiness, malice, hate, mischief, deceit, and every evil. That brow which was once so noble, I particularly noticed. His forehead commenced from his eyes to recede. I saw that he had so long bent himself to evil that every good quality was debased, and every evil trait was developed. His eyes were cunning, sly, and showed great penetration. His frame was large, but the flesh hung loosely about his hands and face. As I beheld him, his chin was resting upon his left hand. He appeared to be in deep thought. A smile was upon his countenance, which made me tremble, it was so full of evil and satanic slyness. This smile is the one he wears just before he makes sure of his victim, and as he fastens the victim in his snare, this smile grows horrible.” (E. G. White, Early Writings, p. 152) What’s in a look? Go with me to another story. Luke 22:55, 60-62. “While the degrading oaths were fresh upon Peter’s lips, and the shrill crowing of the cock was still ringing in his ears, the Saviour turned from the frowning judges, and looked full upon His poor disciple. At the same time Peter’s eyes were drawn to his Master. In that gentle countenance he read deep pity and sorrow, but there was no anger there. “The sight of that pale, suffering face, those quivering lips, that look of compassion and forgiveness, pierced his heart like an arrow.” (E. G. White, The Desire of Ages, p. 712-713) “…Beneath that grieved look, in which compassion and love for him were blended, Peter understood himself. He went out and wept bitterly. That look of Christ’s broke his heart. Peter had come to the turning point, and bitterly did he repent [of] his sin….The look of Christ assured him of pardon.” (E. G. Whtie, Christ's Object Lessons, p. 152) “If the look that Jesus cast upon him had spoken condemnation instead of pity; if in foretelling the sin He had failed of speaking hope [even in His expression], how dense would have been the darkness that encompassed Peter! how reckless the despair of that tortured soul! In that hour of anguish and self-abhorrence, what could have held him back from the path trodden by Judas?” (E. G. White, Education, p. 89) “The look of Christ conveyed volumes to the repentant Peter. He read in that glance sorrow, love, and pardon.” (E. G. White, 3 Spirit of Prophecy, p. 110) What’s in a look? I would present to you that it is, life or death. May we look and live so that our expressions this week will give life, hope, love to others. |
SolominaEverything in life has meaning. There's a lesson in every object, every situation, every process. I want to go deeper, in a higher way. I want to listen, to understand, to know. Archives
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