I Love New York, More Than Ever (by Judy)

Last week I was in New York celebrating the birthday of my grandson, born Sept. 9th. On this trip I experienced the inescapable presence of 9/11 at my daughter’s apartment in Lower Manhattan. I never considered it when I made the reservations. I simply put in the Saturday return. Sept. 11th in the evening, after the birthday party.

When we arrived, I was aware of American flags everywhere; especially on the fire engines that seem to sweep through the streets regularly. The fire station down the street was draped in bunting. So were the trash trucks. I was oblivious. Friday evening we went out for dinner – a foursome headed in the twilight to a chic restaurant in Tribeca, the last neighborhood before the financial district. When we emerged after dinner, my heart turned over.

In front of us were two beams of light, so close that I felt I could touch them, two magnificent, soul-stirring columns reaching so high that it was hard to say whether they went from the earth to the sky, or from heaven to earth. It was a stunning reminder and we stopped in silent tribute.

The next day was anything except silent. The apartment was filled with five year olds delighting in a magician’s sleight of hand. But one boy’s shirt said it all – “I love New York, more than ever.” After the party we descended into the chaos of a New York street fair, filled with resilient humanity, stands with food from around the world, trinkets for sale on blankets, music floating smoothly through the air - jazz, salsa, pan pipes, a sitar, reggae, rap. Above us, the sky was cobalt blue, reminding everyone old enough to remember about that cobalt blue sky nine years earlier.

As our plane took off in the 9/11 evening, my eyes searched the sky. There they were, the beams again, cutting through the low clouds, and again I was confused – were they from man, memorializing a tragic moment? Or were they from God, saying, Here I am. In your sorrow, as in your joy.

Ah, you finally got to God, a reader of coffeepotgospel may say. But God is everywhere in this blog. God has made promises to his people – promises about his grace being sufficient, that all things work together for good for those who love and serve him, that he will supply our needs, that there is sure victory over death to those who believe, and that he is with us in the pit, in the fire, in the storm – in the faces of diversity on city streets, in the courage of a city that refuses to cringe, in love – more than ever.

Gloria by Carolyn

That's what we dubbed her, Judy and I. She is the Samaritan woman at the well who fell under God's huge blessing. By going to the well later in the day, when the other women would not be there, she bumped headlong into Jesus who was alone at the well. Imagine! What will you do, what will you say when you come face to face with Jesus?

This woman had no clue. Her response to Jesus when He asked her for a drink was typical. "Hey, you Jews don't associate with Samaritans. Why then, would you be asking me for a drink?" "If you knew who I am you would ask ME for a drink," He responded, "And I would give you living water. Again, typically, and perhaps characteristically, she combined cynicism with a history lesson. "...where will you get this 'living water?' According to her faith Jacob gave her and her people the well, so who does this man think he is anyway?

How kind Jesus is! He expands His explanation. He says the water in the well will leave her thirsty later, but the water He can provide will live forever "welling" up inside of her to a spring of eternal life.

She calls His bluff. "Sir," she says, "Give me this water so I won't get thirsty anymore and keep having to come back here for more."

Jesus changes the conversation. "Go, call your husband." Huh? She tersely replies, "I have no husband." "You are right....you have had five husbands and the man you have now is not your husband."

Now she is shocked. "Sir, she says, "I can see you are a prophet." She argues about where to worship perhaps hiding behind the unimportant to buy time to think. Dodge...counterdodge. Jesus lets loose and says, "...a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is Spirit and His worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth."

She weakens somewhat, but is still strong in her reply, in her faith. "I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us. Pulling out all the stops, Jesus says, "I, who speak to you, am He." Wow.

Here is why we call her Gloria. She totally forgets her water jug, and runs on winged feet back to town where she is a woman of highly questionable character, and tells everyone, "Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Christ?" she asks. The next thing we know in John 4:39, "Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in Him because of the woman's testimony." 'He told me everything I ever did.'"

Oh, to have her zeal! Her joy! Her influence! Her effectiveness! Her power! What did the Samaritans see? Were people different then? Many conversions followed. Like our Gloria, they understood, God is the fountain of life. Spiritual renewal for a carnal woman from a God who chose to teach her "God is Spirit." How ironic!

Hello God, It's Me, Judy (not Blume)

Today is my 66th birthday! I have to admit that even now, when September 6th rolls around, I still get a shiver of excitement. I have friends who give a little shudder when the subject comes up, and they wish the event were not happening; but for me, even at this advanced age when I qualify both for Medicare and Social Security, I am a little girl anticipating her special day.

As I lay in bed this morning, smiling for the walls of the room to see, I tried to analyze why it continues to be a sweet day. Though presents are fun (see, still a little girl!), the best part is the greetings, and best wishes – this year, telephone calls from Shanghai and Manhattan; cards from New Jersey, New York state, and locally; emails from Brussels, Canada, from my media team from church and the school where I work, and again, dear friends and family around here, and the latest – e-cards!

Today is even more special, for the entire nation is pausing! Well, not exactly for me, though I can pretend. It is Labor Day, a funny name, for it is a time where labor ceases, and everyone plays – reflecting on the summer about to end, and looking forward to autumn smells, colorful leaves, fires, football games and cozy sweaters.

However, like the icing on a birthday cake, I am saving the best for last. When I got out of bed, praising God for the day and thanking Him for abundant blessings, I raised the shades. Though I first saw clouds on the horizon, sunlight broke through the eastern sky and illuminated the steeple outside my window with such a glow that I swore it had been transformed into pure gold. I felt the presence of God as surely as Jacob did at the River Jabbok. I remembered his promises to his children – that as high as the heavens are above, so great is his love; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed my transgressions; that he knows how I am formed – in fact, he knit me together in my mother’s womb; and he is with me from everlasting to everlasting.

In the presence of such amazing grace, how could I ever flinch on September 6th, or any other day! Instead I went downstairs to fresh coffee brewing, a smile on my slightly wrinkled face, a dance in my step, and joy in my heart!!

His Eye is On the Sparrow by Carolyn

I have an elderly friend who lives in a nursing home. When we visit she tells me about her beloved Nikki. Nikki was the beautiful black cat who shared his life with her for twenty years. She tells me what a skinny, little, frisky kitten he was tearing all over her house, running away from imaginary evil beasts, stalking moths inadvertently caught in her shag rug, and in his sights, and how he tossed his toys high up in the air and jumped up even higher to catch them before they hit the ground. His zest for life knew no bounds!

Critters outside beware! Nikki is there! He knows where you live. He knows your habits. He is on high alert! Instinct tells him if you aren't very careful, your life is in his paws!

Together they lived in companionship and love. She was never lonely with her Nikki. When she retired for the night, he did too. He slept in her bed beside her head. When she awoke, he did too. When she left for the day, he was at the door when she came home greeting her with enthusiastic meows and wrappping himself around her legs waiting to be picked up and loved. When he developed diabetes and kidney ailments, she gave him his medicine and shots extending his life beyond his veterinarian's ken.

When he died he had a bum leg.

She misses him. She looks out the window in her little room constantly. Then one day, there he was! He was dragging his bum leg, coming through the grass right toward her window! He jumped in and sat on her bed just like he used to. He was there! He was real! And then...he was gone. She is woebegone. She looks high and lo throughout the nursing home and gardens convinced he will come back again.

What can I do? How can I help? Distract her with a message from Scripture that might somehow fit. "The Lord looks high and lo too," I say, " for the lost and for His own." "For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him." 2Chronicles 16:9 "The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good." Proverbs 15:3 "For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayers." 1Peter 3:12

How sweet is the Word of God! She draws a conclusion from all of this and reaches back. She makes a slight change. "His eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches us."

Shades of Yellow (by Judy)

As I was driving to school last week, I began to think about the color yellow. Earlier this summer my granddaughter had gone around a room filled with family, asking people about their favorite color. Everyone jumped in either with the basics (blue, green, purple), with the exotics from those with Crayola crayon familiarity (magenta, indigo, burnt umber), and with the predictable (from 2 year old granddaughter, pink). I was the last one, and I said yellow. It always has been my favorite choice, though basically ignored by the population at large. So before I go on, dear reader, what about you?

As I drove, thinking about yellow, I marveled at the golden beauty of my daily drive through the Cuyahoga Valley National Park - slanting rays of the early morning sun, wildflowers in the fields, birch trees among the pines, the flitting of finches, a sports car passing me with its top down. But I also saw all sorts of yellow warnings - not to cross the center line, to watch for bikers, walkers, horseback riders, crazy turns ahead, railroad crossing. As I reflected on the delights and warnings that yellow offered during my drive, my road ended. Right in front of me was a sign - an arrow to the left, and arrow to the right. Black arrow on a yellow background. My choice.

Joshua was a mighty Old Testament leader, probably best known for the battle of Jericho when the walls came tumbling down. But as he was about to die, he spoke words to his assembled people that came to my mind as I sat in front of the yellow sign. "If you decide that it's a bad thing to worship God, then choose a god you'd rather serve—and do it today. As for me and my family, we'll worship God."

Isn't that like life, and isn't that like God. We are not marionettes on a string. God is omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent, but He is not a master puppeteer. We have choice - but whatever we choose, do it today. I traveled on to school, where my first project was to work in the garden. As I ascended the hill, I saw a sunflower against the sky. On the way home that afternoon, I bought the best-in-the-world Ohio corn, which we had for dinner. That night I sank to my knees in gratitude for the yellow world I live in, and that I have made my choice!

Tea for Two (or Three, or Four, or More!) by Carolyn

I live next door to four precious young girls ages 4 - 12. Over the years we have enjoyed many tea parties. Some fancier than others. Some put together at the last minute, some planned for elaborately, some simple, some elegant, but all fascinating to me!

What is it about tea parties that little girls enjoy so much? Is it the planning? Is it the preparation? Is it the act of putting the tea in the pot, putting the cups on the table, getting the napkins and the sugar bowl, filling the vases with flowers and putting the candles in the candlesticks? Is it pouring the cream? Setting the table? Is it the actual partaking of the little cups of tea and the crumpets? Is it sharing in all of these things together? What is it? Is it serving the tea? Is it all pomp and circumstance, or tradition? Is it because we're girls? What is it?

I do not know. But women and girls love tea parties.

Years ago, Judy and I put together our own tea party for women's groups. We prepared a presentation where she and I assumed the roles of women inviting women from the Bible to come to a tea party for Jesus. We invited Lydia, Priscilla, Tabitha, Esther, Hannah, Abigail and others. We introduced each of them to the audience and sang songs in between the arrival of each lady. Then we invited all to come to the table we carefully prepared in advance while we awaited the arrival of the guest of honor; Jesus. The women in the audience supplied all the imagination we needed to make the tea party a total success!

Just imagine the party the Lord is preparing for the wedding supper of the Lamb! It will be a tea party PLUS! The Lord has invited us all to come, taste and see that the Lord is good. He has already filled our cups to overflow with blessings and thanksgivings. Our cups "runneth over" with goodness, love and joy. In our hearts we love parties! We are thankful we've been invited! And our Host will not disappoint us. We will be thrilled and astonished with the banquet He has prepared! He will be our All in All and I can hardly wait!

An Outer Banks Beacon (by Judy)

The Outer Banks of North Carolina, August 2010. Sun, sand and surf with son, daughter, spouses and 5 grandchildren. What a wonderful, happy time together. Oldest granddaughter Lia always arose first, crawled into our bed and snuggled, offering and accepting kisses, warm and sweet smelling. Youngest granddaughter Matilda was indomitable, not at all intimidated by her cousinly and brotherly elders. When challenged, she roared like a lion, literally. Towering above us, visible from almost every window was the Currituck Lighthouse. Whenever I looked it, I heard music - the mariner's hymn, sung at the funerals of so many of our fathers, both literal and figurative. Jack Kennedy. Ronald Reagan. John Wolcott.

Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep, Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!

What is there about a lighthouse that challenges sons. Why did older grandson Max daily beg to climb the 212 steps, and when he finally achieved his goal, what thrill kept him at the upper railing, circling and circling, a tiny figure triumphantly waving at the world below; while his 5 year old counterpart Arial, like the Disney mermaid, delighted in jumping waves, and tripled the length of the walk from house to beach and back because she stopped to pick up so many glittering, multicolored shells. Did Max recognize that lighthouses stand in the gap, filling the darkness with bold beams of light, 3 seconds on and 17 seconds off, so that ships with precious cargo and brave deckhands can make their journeys in safety.

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard, And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walked'st on the foaming deep, And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!

I love that lighthouse, just as I love the lighthouse of my childhood, Barnegat, on Long Beach Island in New Jersey. Each night I lay in bed while familiar voices intermingled in the living room. I opened my Bible on the night table and read from Isaiah, Psalms, Job while the steady rhythm of the light passed by my vision. I smiled as I thought about younger grandson Ian praying at the dinner table, eyes squeezed together, drawing the words and sentences out as we all held hands. Raised in China by Christian parents, he symbolizes for me the passing of the mantle, a new generation filled with the Spirit, God's beacons in the darkness.

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tumult cease, And give, for wild confusion, peace;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!