The Whole Pie

             How well I remember sitting around the table with a visiting missionary family and several other guests for a dessert night! The discussion eventually turned to priorities, when someone said something about putting God first, family next, and ourselves last.

            I was somewhat surprised when this missionary wife jumped in with this question: “What is the chief purpose for us being here?”

            Most were quiet, afraid to answer incorrectly, while another hesitated then said, “To serve God?”

            “To glorify Him,” the missionary wife said. “Picture a pie.” She pointed to one on the table. “Some Christians have been taught to serve God, then family, then themselves.” She pretended to cut a huge piece of pie for God, a mid-sized for family, and a sliver for self. “This is flawed thinking.”

            I listened intently. Flawed thinking? But I’ve been taught that—especially all my years at a strict Bible college where no one dare question legalistic instruction.

            She continued. “If we’re to do all to the glory of God and all our service belongs to Him, then His is the whole pie, not just a piece.”

            “Then how do you know how much is what?” I asked. 

            “On the mission field, one day we might have more responsibilities in ministry, and that may be a really big piece of the pie. Another day, family might need more than the ministry,” she said pretending to cut the pie elsewhere. “There’ll also be times we must take care of ourselves so we don’t burnout.” She pretended to cut another slice, not a sliver. “It’s all God’s. The whole pie. When you think of it that way, the pieces will be cut different sizes, depending on the day. Ministry, family, ourselves—all for His Glory.”

            This family returned to the United States from Africa every five years, making their furlough rounds to supporting churches and sharing what God was doing on the mission field. There were fruits from their labor, and most of their children handled life well. One did not. (Timewise this was when some mission boards required missionaries’ children to attend boarding school in Europe.) When all this father and mother could do to help that child at such a distance failed, they made the tough decision to head Stateside.

            I have little doubt they received some criticism for this. After all, hadn’t they committed their lives to serve the Lord in Africa? Yet, this couple took care of family at a most critical time. It “saved” this child. They’d given God the whole pie years earlier. They were still doing so, but now the pieces needed to be sliced differently—but all to the glory of God.

            In this particular case, another ministry sprung from this decision to “come home.” Because of their struggling child’s experience, this couple realized other MKs (missionary kids) hurt too. So, from their stateside mission field they reached out and for the remainder of their years helped multitudes of MKs.

            When we struggled with a troubled daughter and complications in her and our lives, we took a leave of absence from ministry. Some people eyed this as failure and let us know so. But at that time the chief need was this child. By pouring into her then, we felt we were honoring God because He wanted our child to be well and our parenting to honor Him. After all, hadn’t we dedicated her to the Lord and made a promise to Him?

            There’s always ministry to be done. Aways lost souls to win. But at what expense if a minister is sold out for God and sells out his family?

            A beautiful example of what I’m trying to express is our pastor. Totally dedicated to the Lord and his church family. Then a sadness—rapid deterioration of his beloved wife’s health—to the point she needed a great deal of care. He didn’t hesitate in making the decision to focus on the earthly love of his life—the one he’d said “I do” to more than fifty years earlier.

            Pastor expressed, “I want to be there for her—for as long as she needs me, however long that is.” This meant stepping back from the pulpit from time to time—and could realistically mean doing so more in the future as he keeps his commitment to his bride.

            That’s the whole pie with pieces sized differently depending on the need. And as our pastor lovingly cares for his wife, he glorifies God through this humble act of worship.

            If you’ve been raised in a legalistic setting, you’ll struggle with the concept I’ve presented and will either declare me a heretic or ask God to free you from that teaching. (I hope the latter.) I’m sure, however, we all agree on one thing—that God is deserving of all the glory—the whole pie!

            And to our pastor, thank you for your example—giving glory to God in ALL you do. How pleased He is and accepting of your worship! 

Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee.

Take my moments and my days; let them flow in endless praise…

Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of thy love.

Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for thee…

Take my love; my Lord, I pour at thy feet its treasure store.

Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for thee—ever only all, for thee.

(from the hymn “Take My Life” by Frances R. Havergal, public domain, 1874)

 

“I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies

a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.”

Romans 12:1 NKJV

And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus,

Giving thanks to God the Father through Him.

Colossians 3:17 NKJV

#glorytoGod #legalism #guilt #servingGod #pie #missionary

Marriage, Wounds, & Scars

             Dad, Mom, my sister, and I couldn’t’ve been more thrilled, returning to Madison Square Garden for another Billy Graham Crusade!

            Rev. Graham’s message addressed a broken world and need for the Savior. Profoundly simple. All his messages were because the good news of the Gospel was easy to understand—Jesus Christ coming to earth, dying on the cross, and resurrecting from the dead to clean sinners’ hearts and open Heaven for all who sought Him.

            At the close of that evening, a song filled “the Garden.” As masses of people sang Just as I am, folks of all ages left their seats and headed down the steps to the floor level to be counseled and led to the Savior.

Just as I am, without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me,

And that thou bidd’st me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come…

Just as I am, and waiting not to rid my soul of one dark blot.

To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come…

Just as I am, though tossed about with many a conflict, many a doubt,

Fightings and fears within, without, O Lamb of God, I come…

Just as I am, thou wilt receive, wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because thy promise I believe, O Lamb of God, I come. I come.

(Charlotte Elliott, 1835, Public Domain)

            I didn’t go down those steps. Didn’t need to. The matter of my heart was already settled as was the assurance I belonged to Jesus. That, too, before this night in the Garden. So, I used those moments to pray for those who needed to find the Savior.

            Unbeknownst to me, one hundred miles to the north a twelve-year-old boy watched the same Crusade on TV. While I was praying in New York City, he opened his heart to Jesus.

He, too, wrestled with matters of the heart in the years to come before realizing—although he’d made Jesus Savior—he hadn’t made Him Lord. When Brian surrendered, God led him to a special ministry, working with disabled kids and teens—where I had arrived the previous year.

We im met, fell in love, married, and lived happily ever after.

Nope. Not even close.

            Ours may have been a “marriage made in Heaven,” but we were living in a broken world where so much of the “unheavenly” seeped in. We were both missionaries serving the Lord. Yet, even that sometimes brought struggles by what we’d been taught—God first, husband next, family last. (In my next blog post, I’ll share how we were “reprogrammed.”) But being sold out for God left us too exhausted for the rest.

            Child #1 came along. Then twins.

Brian ministered away from home many hours, and I was spent. But we were doing what we should be. Right? Our mission board at that time relocated us to New York City. Life was not easier but better for us there, yet we still struggled as we followed “our teaching.”

            Another child arrived.

            By this time, we just couldn’t function anymore. Through prayer and counseling, we realized it was time to make major changes. We signed on with a more family-friendly mission board and made our way to another part of the country.

            Before we left, though, we rededicated our marriage to God in a mini-ceremony with our pastor and his wife.

            A fresh start! That had to be good. It was in many ways, and we grew together through trying times when we had little to go on. But our hearts were in the right place—our love for each other redirected properly.

            We continued to serve God with all our hearts and did our best to raise a family for Him, but life would turn on us more than a time or two—testing our marriage to the core. All that happened should’ve broken us. Crushed really. We were wounded, damaged, depressed.

            In time, those wounds healed.

            The scars, though, don’t go away. They never will.

            But God can use scars. Look at the nail prints in Jesus’ Hands!

            Scars carry a message and, yes, even Hope. They’re also grand “authenticators” to others who hurt—those who’ll listen to us because we’ve “been there.”

            So this scarred husband and wife march on, praying we remain faithful to God and each other.

            Are you scarred? Do your scars help you give “authentic” comfort to others who need to know God will bring them through the same hurts you’ve endured? I pray you find value in the hardships that caused those and have the courage to reach others because of them.

            But maybe you’re still too wounded. May I encourage you to take needful steps—prayer, Bible reading, even godly counseling—to aid in healing. For some this takes less time than for others. (It took us a great many years.) That’s okay.

            Rest in Him, let Him be Your Balm. and trust He knows what He’s doing because—remember—He went through horrific wounding and bears the scars.

            There’s no one more Authentic than Jesus Christ—the Great Healer and Counselor!

#BillyGrahamCrusade #NewYorkCity #Jesus #salvation #love&marriage #scars

"Why Am I Still Here?"

            Our elderly—this priceless group of people—have long been favorites of mine.

            Such a one was Weezie! Dear to the core. I came to know her in the Appalachian Mountains—when she lived with her daughter who, at the time, needed a “sitter” for her mom while she took her husband for cancer treatments. I was one of the chosen.

            What a joy and delight spending time with Weezie, hearing her stories, and sharing in her love for the Lord!

            But the time came when she could no longer be cared for in her daughter and son-in-law’s home due to his health decline, so Weezie moved to a nursing home. It was a fine place, don’t get me wrong, but Weezie changed as a woman in her nineties does just because—well—that’s what happens.

            I hopped over the mountain a time or two to visit her, and I’ll never forget (as long as I have memory) our last time together. I found Weezie sitting in her wheelchair and pulled a seat as close as possible in front of her. We held hands and talked a bit. Then I read her a Psalm and closed my Bible.

            Weezie leaned forward. I thought she was falling out of her wheelchair and reached out to catch her, but she just wanted to rest her head on my chest. So I held her there.

            She was quiet a minute. Then she glanced up, looked into my eyes, and asked, “Why am I still here?”

            I thought some moments, knowing the answer mattered—to her and God. Finally, I said, “Because we need prayer warriors on the front line. So many are busy and forget to pray for us Christian soldiers. We depend on you.” I took a deep breath then continued. “When your purpose on earth is completed, God will take you Home.”

            She gently nodded but remained in my embrace. I sang a hymn to her, and she hummed along and seemed peaceful.

(The song was one you may listen to by copying and pasting this info into your browser:

When We See Christ (lyrics video) - song cover by Nelli Savchenko - YouTube

By Esther Kerr Rusthoi*)

            On the other side of the mountain from where Weezie lived was another elderly saint who prayed faithfully at her bedside even though, when doing so, it meant enduring physical pain. She’s the dear lady pictured here—a poignant image captured by her daughter.

            Here’s what this daughter shared about the photo: “Mom had fallen and made a mess of her knees. When she was ready for bed, I asked her not to kneel. I waited and went to check on her. This is what I found. She did this until shortly before she passed at 96.” —Nagatha Venters Anderson**

            Weezie, Nagatha’s momma, and so many others passed the years where they were able to do much physically, but they didn’t stop carrying folks like us in their hearts. I dare say we’d be in a greater struggle were it not for our prayer warriors.

            Maybe you’re an elderly person or a disabled one. Please know your usefulness isn’t over. No way! Your family and others need you on your knees (figuratively if you can’t do so physically) because we’re living in a world where spiritual battles take place around every corner.

            To you, precious prayer warriors, our heartfelt thanks! Not just for those vital prayers but for the testimony of faithfulness you’ve shown us. When you’re promoted to Glory, may others of us take your place. In the meantime, thank you for teaching us well.

“Lord, let me live from day to day in such a self-forgetful way,

That even when I kneel to pray my pray’r shall be for others…”

(from the hymn, “Others” by Charles D. Meigs—blind preacher, 1917, public domain)

#prayer #prayerwarriors #elderly #seniorcitizens #spiritualwarfare

 

*Copyright 1941, New Spring (ASCAP)—Brentwood-Benson Music Publishing, Inc.

**Photo & written account used with permission

"I Regret to Inform You about Your Flamingo"

           

            An e-mail I received last month read: “I regret to inform you about your flamingo. It is not the brand I had thought…”—etc.

            Did I care what company manufactured my hopeful purchase? Nope. My focus was on needing a flamingo. I messaged the EBay seller to go ahead and ship my 11” stuffed bird and proceeded to order another tiny one. The real issue? WHY I “needed” flamingoes in the first place!

            Weeks earlier I walked into a pulmonologist’s office. (I’ve had difficulty with my lungs since dealing with long-term pneumonia almost a decade ago.)

            The nurse escorted me to a chair in the practice’s hallway. You know. The area where the dreaded scale stands! She put a little gadget onto my finger, and exclaimed as the alarm in that thing went off, “You just qualified for oxygen.”

            I thought she was joshing. I mean, what kind of greeting is that! I was then led into an exam room, saw the doctor, and learned the tests done prior to that day showed a bit of this ’n’ that, and I’d be scheduled for a CT scan and echocardiogram.

            The nurse was summoned again and did a walking test with me, accompanied with that gadget on my finger and pulling along a green oxygen tank connected to my face with a cannula. I set off a few more alarms.

            As we walked back to the exam room and passed some chairs, she said, “You need to sit down.”

            I replied I was fine and could push to get back.

            “No. You need to sit.”

            So I sat. Apparently, my oxygen level dipped, but what did I know?

            Back in the room I learned I’d become the proud owner (renter or whatever I am) of a home oxygen unit and a portable one, if my insurance agreed with the plan.

            This wasn’t a joke. The nurse wasn’t smiling. Neither was I.

            So, I left my appointment with a long tube and cannula in hand, got in the car, and pow! It hit me what this might mean! Thus began a twenty-eight mile tear-fest.

            What would I tell hubby? He struggled with his health, and I’d become his taxi driver, etc. Then there’s our adult, live-in, developmentally disabled son with brain cancer whom I must take here and there and help in his care.

            At home I walked in the door, wondering how to break the news that we would be getting new “furnishings.” But the hospital already called to schedule my tests, so hubby knew something was up. Then my tears streamed, and he held me as I blubbered.

            Jump forward two weeks! A very kind gentleman arrived with my needed supplies (which I rejoice in that answer to prayer—the insurance having complained a time or two about a portable unit before okaying).

            Anyway, here’s to a new way of life! The good news? I don’t need to use the oxygen when I’m sitting. The bad news? I need it when I move about and throughout the night.

            This brings me back to the purchase of flamingoes. (Were you beginning to wonder if there really was a lucid reason for those purchases?)

            Time warp: Decades ago, my friend Pat and I traveled back from a writers’ workshop. She’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever known, and—in times when laughing seemed impossible—Pat could cheer the guffaws right out of me!

            She told me about a home where every year the owners set out a nativity scene. That’s not funny. That’s lovely. Then she added, “And I don’t know why, but they have a half-circle of flamingoes facing it!”

            So, come Christmas season, we HAD to do a drive-by. Sure enough! Flamingoes in their “expected” position before the nativity! I couldn’t believe my eyes! Not that I doubted Pat, but really? We laughed till we nearly wet our pants!

             The next year Pat was diagnosed with cancer. I visited her weekly, hoping to cheer her as she lay on the couch in and out of what might be considered a coherent state—although with Pat it was hard to tell.

            We set up her Christmas tree, and the conversation turned to flamingoes and the need to put some on her tree. I made a motion that we “authenticate” the décor by adding random spots of white-out underneath. And poor sick Pat laughed hysterically and seconded it!

            To this day, we get a jolly out of the flamingoes half-circling that nativity and that cancer Christmas.

            So those strange, long-legged, pink birds came to mind when I thought of needing to smile in my new-found situation—one for my home oxygen concentrator and a tiny one for the portable unit. No, they don’t cure the shock I’m feeling, but they do make me smile.

            In time I hope to joy in this journey, for God makes no mistakes. We’ve lived enough years to know we’re placed in some situations by design—that I need to meet someone there who needs to know God cares—that He’s their all-in-all, if they allow Him to be.

            As for my two flamingo friends? I smile as I flip on the huge home machine, take the canula off the flamingo sitting on it, and don my face with that unattractive tubing. And I tote my portable oxygen and will see where it and the little flamingo take me. Hopefully in time this gal will allow her tears to dry, put on a happy face, and mean it.

 

Day by day and with each passing moment—Strength I find to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He whose heart is kind beyond all measure—Gives unto each day what He deems best—

Lovingly, it’s part of pain and pleasure—Mingling toil with peace and rest.

 

Ev’ry day the Lord Himself is near me—With a special mercy for each hour;

All my cares He gladly bears and cheers me, He whose name is Counselor and Pow’r.

The protection of His child and treasure—Is a charge that on Himself He laid:

“As your days, your strength shall be in measure”—This the pledge to me He made.

 

Help me then in ev’ry tribulation—So to trust Your promises, O Lord,

That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation—Offered me within Your holy Word.

Help me, Lord, when, toil and trouble meeting—E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,

One by one, the days, the moments fleeting—Till I reach the promised land.

 

(from hymn “Day By Day” by Caroline Sandell Berg—a.k.a. Lina Sandell, 1865, public domain)

#flamingoes #oxygen #trials&tribulations #oxygenconcentrator

When God Was Born

            “Heresy! God always was and will be!” shout some readers.

            Believe me. I know that. Almighty God (Father/Son/Spirit) has no beginning and no end, but stick with me while we travel back to nine months pre-Bethlehem Birth. Yes, I realize we’re in Holy week with only days till Resurrection Sunday; but in my mind, I cannot separate Christmas and Easter.

            This marriage of Holy-Days came about by my wondering years ago why God had to send Jesus the way He did and why God the Son needed to suffer and die such a horrific death.

            It’s my fault actually. Some say, “Let’s blame Adam and Eve for the whole mess.” But truth be told, if they hadn’t sinned and no one else had up till I arrived on the scene, I blew it. Yes, I sinned. More than once.

            But God loved me so very much that He wanted me one day to come live with Him. (Romans 5:8) Problem? I couldn’t because there’s no sin in Heaven. Only perfect God—sinless and incapable of such. No sin allowed.

            God being God already knew I and all the others before me (after too) would mess up (Romans 3:10), so He made one Way possible to bridge the sin gap. Here’s where the story gets messy. God said blood needed to be shed for forgiveness of sin. (Hebrews 9:22)

            Jesus—God the Son—would be the Redeemer. (Romans 3:25) But the Son was spirit and a Part of the Trinity (God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit). Spirit doesn’t contain blood. How can Spirit take on blood and become the Cure?

            That’s where Mary came in. God chose her to be the agent. Jesus (God the Son) needed to be human for Him to become blood—actually 100% God and 100% human. So, Jesus, was born through Mary—her bloodline. Necessary for what was to come! Thus, that Part of God—the Son—was born, even though He plus the Father and Spirit were One and have always been.

            This Newborn, though, was born to die. Imagine the mix of emotions for post-partum Mary who knew all this! The joy of birthing her Baby, the grief knowing He would one day die—His end already defined before He was even conceived. (Isaiah 53:4-9)

            That’s why Christmas and Easter can’t be separated—not really. They’re one complete story. Jesus would be unjustly accused, tried, and put to death because, in order for the Messiah to be able to cleanse us from sin, He needed to die through means of shed blood—the Perfect Sacrifice.

            God already knew Jesus wouldn’t stay dead, even though his followers and friends on earth grieved His death as if that were the end. But there’s more to the story. (Romans 1:4)

            Resurrection! Proof Jesus was 100% God, the only One Who could rise from the dead. (Job 19:25) And that’s why Heaven is open for me, you, and anyone who asks for forgiveness of sin and invites Jesus into their hearts and lives.

            Maybe you’ve heard this explanation a thousand times. Maybe you’re reading it for the first time. You know what? For those of us who’ve embraced the Savior, this news is as exciting now as the first time we heard it!

            The eternal God was born through a human so He could shed blood through agonizing death on a cross to atone for our sins. (I John 2:2) No matter what, He’s willing and ready to forgive us. This astounds me—this wondrous Love!

One day when heaven was filled with His praises—One day when sin was as black as could be,

Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin—Dwelt among men, my example is He!

 

(refrain) Living, He love me; dying, He save me; buried, He carried my sins far away;

Rising, He justified freely, forever—One day He’s coming: O glorious day!

 

One day they led Him up Calvary’s mountain—One day they nailed Him to die on the tree;

Suffering anguish, despised and rejected—Bearing our sins, my Redeemer is He…

 

One day the grave could conceal Him no longer—One day the stone rolled away from the door;

Then He arose, over death He had conquered—Now is ascended, my Lord ever more…

 

(refrain) Living, He love me; dying, He save me; buried, He carried my sins far away;

Rising, He justified freely, forever—One day He’s coming: O glorious day!

 

(from hymn “One Day” by J. Wilbur Chapman, 1910, public domain)

 

#Christmas #Easter #ResurrectionJesusChrist #blood #Redeemer #Trinity #sin

But GOD Had a Plan

 

            God always has a plan, and He knew exactly what lie ahead for a Welsh baby born in the year of our Lord 1839. This pastor’s son grew in body and belief. He, too, became a minister after studying theology. Robert Jermain Thomas married, and this couple’s hearts were bent toward serving as missionaries in China.

“There’s a call comes ringing o’er the restless wave, ‘Send the light! Send the light!’

There are souls to rescue, there are souls to save, Send the light! Send the light!”*

            But Robert was impulsive, head-strong, and sometimes disobedient. What kind of missionary would he make, the London Missionary Society wondered. Yet he and his bride went to China where, within months, she died from a miscarriage.

            Hope dashed! Robert grieved heavily and left missionary work, taking secular employment where he interacted with people from different nations and seemed to have a high aptitude for learning languages. At this place, he encountered two men who’d escaped Choson (Korea), which at that time was hostile to foreign influences and wanted no Christianity.

            Knowing these men and about the spiritual darkness in Korea, Robert’s passion reignited. He determined to take Bibles there, dressed in the Korean way, and sailed to this hostile land where multiple thousands of believers in Jesus had been martyred. He spent three months distributing Bibles in secret. Then, being warned of danger, Robert fled back to China. But his heart wouldn’t let him stay there.

Much to the chagrin of the London Missionary Society, Robert took his return to Korea into his own hands and timing. He boarded a trade ship with more Bibles. Long story short, this journey ended tragically, and the ship—also a threat to native Koreans—was attacked, set on fire, and all onboard slain.

Before Robert died, he threw Bibles overboard, hoping they’d float to shore and be taken by the people rather than burned. It’s reported he made it to shore with some of the precious Books, crying out “Yesu, Yesu!” and offering the last Bible to the man who beheaded him.

But remember. God had a plan. He always does. And, even though He knew what would come, this wasn’t really this missionaries’ end. Robert’s influence would live on. A man in charge of the martyrdom, retrieved one of the Bibles, tore out the pages and papered a wall in his home with them to laud his victory over this Yesu and His believers.

“So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth, It shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.” Isaiah 55:11 NKJV

The Bible page-covered wall stood for Victory but not in the way that cruel man intended. You see, years later God sent another missionary to Korea. Also, a Korean believer in Jesus eventually bought that house with the Bible wallpaper, which became the first Christian church there. Faith in Jesus Christ and Christianity grew, revival broke out, and Korea eventually became the number one Christian nation in the world.

            After the Korean war and in that divided land, a mother gave birth to a baby girl who grew to love the Lord her God with all her heart. She became a woman of prayer. She married, had children, and decided to help her nation in a very giving way. Mrs. Choi became a foster mother, caring for and loving babies born to unwed mothers who mostly signed over their children for international adoption.

            March 9^th, 1993 a woman birthed a son whom she couldn’t keep. She gave him to international adoption even though she realized this meant she’d likely never see him again or know what became of him. How she must’ve grieved that day and oh so many since!

            But God had a plan. He always does. In April of 1993 Mrs. Choi was given that forty-day-old baby—Min Soo—born with genetic problems and other struggles as well. She loved him, though, and cared for him with great affection. But Min Soo didn’t get a family, and shortly after he turned two years old, his foster mother learned he’d be sent to the orphanage for children considered unadoptable.

This woman of God prayed four times daily for a Christian home for Min Soo. She fought to keep him beyond his foster care cutoff age of three. Unbeknownst to her, on the other side of the world a family had learned of this orphan and asked God whether their home should be his. God’s answer? Yes—and Mrs. Choi’s prayer answered too! Min Soo would have a Christian family!

            God has a plan. He always does. And, when your situation may appear bleak, rest assured it isn’t hopeless. Look what God did for Korea, sending Robert Jermain Thomas who effected change for an entire nation! That Christian influence lived on, and a woman grew in her faith and decided to care for orphaned babies. One of those babies gained his first knowledge about Jesus through her witness. Three years later in another home he’d ask Jesus to be his Savior.

            How do we know this? That boy is our son!

“Let us not grow weary in the work of love, ‘Send the light! Send the light!’

Let us gather jewels for a crown above, Send the light! Send the light!

…Let it shine from shore to shore…Let it shine forevermore.”*

 

*from hymn “Send the Light,” by Charles H. Gabriel, public domain, 1890

#Robert Jermain Thomas #missionarymartyr #ChosunKorea #orphans #fostercare #adoption #Bible #revival #GodsPlan

(If you’d like to read more about Robert Jermain Thomas, I heartily recommend

Chosen for Choson: Robert Jermain Thomas by Stella Price.)

Good Vibrations & Borrowing Songs--Part 2

             Balloons are one way of “borrowing” songs through vibrations, but what about other means for those who are struggling?

            In the mid-1990s we went through some horrific experiences, throwing us into emotional turmoil. My husband Brian, who sang often before that, lost his song—as if it’d been sucked out of him. His guitar went into its case and collected dust.

            Not many years prior, Bill and Gloria Gaither created their Homecoming Series, bringing back hymns of hope and promise. We’d bought several of their cassettes and VHSs. How glad we were because, during that awful period when Brian’s song died and I cried daily, we listened repeatedly—borrowing those songs as God’s Holy Spirit ministered to us while we healed.

            When I shared with a dear friend, Pat, about Brian losing his song, she said, “Oh, Sarah, I understand. That happened to me also. I loved singing, but when I went through a divorce, my church said I could no longer be in the choir. I lost my song. When I found a new church, the music minister learned my situation and how I had loved to sing. He said, ‘Come sit amidst the choir, and we’ll surround you with our song until yours returns.’”

            And that’s what she did.

            I shared this beautiful account with another precious friend, who’d been widowed. Verna said, “That’s exactly how I felt when my husband died—like I’d never sing again.”

            Brian borrowed Gaither’s songs until his returned. Pat borrowed hers from choir members who surrounded her. And Verna? She loved driving and listened to music on rides to nowhere and back and eventually found her song again.

            These dear ones, however, weren’t the first to experience this. In the Old Testament of the Bible, we read about the Israelites who were taken captive and carried off to a strange land for 70 years.

“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. We hung our harps upon the willows in the midst of it. For there, those who carried us away captive asked of us a song, and those who plundered us requested mirth, saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’ How shall we sing the LORD’s song in a foreign land?” Psalm 137:1-4

            Reader, know God cares and understands when you’ve lost your song. I pray someone comes along who lends you theirs. Perhaps you’re the song-lender instead! May God direct you to someone who needs healing in their lives and can borrow yours for a while. 

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained too deeply for mirth or song;

As the burdens press, and the cares distress, and the way grows weary and long?

O yes, He cares—I know He cares! His heart is touched with my grief;

When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares. 

(Hymn, “Does Jesus Care” by Frank E. Graeff, 1916, Public Domain)

             (Gaither Homecoming share the above verses in this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-U5rKY6vtc&list=RDy-U5rKY6vtc&start_radio=1&rv=y-U5rKY6vtc&t=0 ) 

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