Autumn Hope

The trees are weeping

Great arid tears

Of scarlet, gold, and flame—

Mourning winter’s onset

And doubting spring will come again.

Autumns sings in a minor key,
bagpipes droning the slave trader's hymn.
Loss, surrender, relinquishment thrum
beneath the glory of the turning leaves,
the crisp cool air,
the gentler light.

Even as tree limbs release
their grip on summer's glory
and exhalations of wind carry it
down, down, down to the earth,
farmers gather in their harvests,
the golden glory-fruit of so many seeds of hope
buried in soil nourished
by the weeping of the trees.

"I assure you: Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces a large crop" (John 12:24, HCSB).

How Happy We Would Be!

    Once there was a little Johnny Jump-up with a gold and violet face.  All day long he hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were tall and elegant like the rose, how happy I would be!”
    On a trellis nearby grew a tall, slender climbing rose with petals like the flush of a baby’s cheek.  All day long she hung her head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were strong and useful like the apple tree, how happy I would be.”
    Overhead arched the strong limbs of the apple tree, laden with sweet red fruit.  All day long he drooped his branches and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I had a cozy nest and a family to love like the robin, how happy I would be.”
    In its branches lived a little robin redbreast, hovering over her nest of speckled blue eggs.  All day long she hung her head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were free to soar into the sky like the eagle, how happy I would be.”
    Aloft soared the eagle, alone and splendid.  All day long he hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I could fly into heaven itself like the angels, how happy I would be.”
    In the heavens themselves, the angels went about serving God and His children among men.  One sad angel hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I could reign like God, with all things serving me, how happy I would be!”

    “O foolish, rebel creature!” said God.  “There is no God but Me.  Away with you into the outer darkness!”
    “As for you, silly eagle, “said the Lord, “If you flew into heaven, who would show the new strength I promise and the heights to which I call My people?”
    “As for you, little robin,” said the Lord, “If you soared like the eagle, who would show forth My tender care and provision for the smallest of My creatures?”
    “As for you, mighty tree,” said the Lord, “If you nested and nurtured like the robin, who would bring forth sweet fruit for the strength and joy of My people?”
    “As for you, precious rose,” said the Lord, “If you grew tall and thick like the apple tree, who would show the world both the beauty and the pain of life in this sinful world?”
    “As for you, tiny flower,” said the Lord, “If you were tall and elegant like the rose, who would make men smile and forget their worries in the beauty I lavish on the very ground they tread?”
    “O foolish creatures!  If you would only stop fretting over what you are not and enter into My joy in making you as you are, how happy you would be!”

Pottery {A Poem}

Pounding,

Pummeling,

Pressing,

Pulling,

Pinching,

Piercing,

Paring,

The Potter's hands prod the clay

With persistent patience.

Every empty hollow,

Every strip removed,

Though painful to the vessel,

Shapes it into suitability.

What is lost

Is only

What did not look like Him.

The Potter's perfect, sure pressure

Peels nothing away

That would prove essential

To His purpose and plan.


******************
Last Wednesday, August 7, marked the 9th anniversary of this blog. Pottery is the traditional gift for 9 years. These have been the most painfully formative 9 years of my life so far, in ways I could never have imagined when I hit “publish” on that first post. Considering how all those surgeries, bereavements, appointments, painful family situations, and other opportunities to experience God’s strength in my weakness relate to the theme of pottery led me to scribble out the above. May it encourage you also to rest in our good Potter’s hands. Thank you for reading. Your presence here is a blessing and a grace.

Mundane

The difference between the ordeal of Sisyphus—
Pushing, pushing, pushing the boulder uphill;
Then the rolling, rolling, rolling back down
Just as he neared the top—
And the sacrament of the ordinary—
Performing the endless everyday
In the grace,
Through the power,
For the glory of God—
Is a Savior,
A surrender,
A sacrifice of praise.

An altar stands irrevocably,
The narrow gate of transformation,
Between meaningless mundane misery
And duty infused and illuminated by
The beauty of the Almighty.

July 4th Gratitude

Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, "If you continue in my word,  you really are my disciples.  You will know the truth,  and the truth will set you free."

"We are descendants of Abraham," they answered him, "and we have never been enslaved to anyone. How can you say, 'You will become free' ?"

Jesus responded, "Truly I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave of sin.  A slave does not remain in the household forever,  but a son does remain forever.  So if the Son sets you free, you really will be free.

John 8:31‭-‬36 CSB

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus,  because the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and death.

Romans 8:1‭-‬2 CSB

Thank you, Lord, for freedom.
Thank you for the legal freedom to own, study, and discuss Your Word and worship with Your people. My own husband's ancestors came to this country because they were suffering persecution for their Protestant beliefs in their homeland. Our friends in parts of Asia are deprived of educational and professional opportunities because of their Christian faith, and many of the pastors we know there have paid for their ministry with time in prison, even though their churches meet in secret. This is not a gift I take lightly, and I thank You for the multitudes who have sacrificed to give and preserve this liberty.

Thank You for the means to own my own copies of Your Word, for multiple excellent translations in my native tongue, for the men who died to provide the early English translations to us, and for the education, cognitive capacity,  and eyesight to be able to read the Scriptures. Grant me grace to express that gratitude with continued abiding in Your truth.

Thank You for the theological freedom to study Your Word for myself and with my sisters in Christ. Thank You for freeing me from sin, death, and condemnation; for making me Your own daughter; for filling me with Your indwelling Spirit to open my eyes to Your truth. When You brought me to Yourself, my relationship with the Bible was the first change I noticed, though I didn't then know why. The new heart and Spirit You gave me were like getting my first pair of glasses, like having a blindfold removed. Thank You for spiritual sight and the Counselor Jesus sent to dwell with and in His disciples.

On this Independence Day, thank You for all these freedoms. Thank You for all the hardships that keep me mindful that I will never be independent of You. In Jesus' name I thank You. Amen.