Trust Me by Carolyn

"Trust Me."  How many times have we heard these two simple words throughout our lifetimes?  Can you think of times when someone has said this to you?  Did you trust them?  How far did you trust them?  All the way?  What was the outcome?  What about those times when you said them to someone?  How did that work out?  Most of us are very careful about both sides of this issue.

Trust me.  What does that mean?  It has been said that our faith is only as good as the object of our faith.  Isn't trust the same?  If we put our trust in something that isn't trustworthy our trust is quickly destroyed.  "Once burned, twice shy."  If this happens too many times, soon we learn we not to trust.

I have been thinking about this since a silly, simple little incident occured in my home.  But it was a big insight into what it means to trust our God, and the difference between instinct and choice.
We have a Persian Cat.  Her name is Nestle.  She is the gentlest cat I have ever owned.  She is completely comfortable in our care.  She lies down and flops over on her back, pulls her front feet entirely straight up and over her head, stretches out her back feet as far as they will go exposing her tummy to all sorts of pampering knowing that's exactly what we are going to do.  She knows she is going to get brushed and she loves it!  She trusts us implicitly.  Suddenly, unexpectedly scrape the bottom of your chair across the hard tile floor making a loud, disturbing noise however, and watch her take a sudden flying leap straight up in the air, up the stairs, and under the bed!

But a scare like that will send any of us into outter space!  Now let's take a controlled situation.

When I pick her up she trusts me to love her, pet her and not drop her.  She is also curious and since she's an indoor cat, I am always looking for ways to stimulate her and satisfy her curiousity.
 Our toilet was running and I needed to put the chain straight so the stopper would drop.  Since I already had her in my arms, I thought she might like to watch me do that.  I held her in one arm and with my opposite hand I untangled the chain.  At first, she was curious, but after a couple of seconds, she became completely insane and catapulted herself out of my arms, up the stairs, back under the bed.  She didn't trust me.  Her instinct took over and suddenly it was all about self-preservation.  No choice for her, not really. 

As long as we are breathing there are lessons to learn and choices to make.  I thought about the lesson contained in this little experience.  When God puts us in a trial, or asks us to undertake a project we are totally unsure about, He's asking us to trust Him.  When He's calling us to step out of the boat, or into an uncertain and scary situation and He's asking us to trust Him.  He gives us a choice. Who is our role model in this?  There are many people in the Bible who had to step out of the boat.  Think of all those in the Old Testament who were called upon to do incredibly dangerous, and courageous things with little or no reason to be assured of the outcome, or all the disciples who followed Jesus before and after His ascension in spite of the danger.  But the most outstanding role model of all is Jesus Himself.  Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane sweating blood and saying, "Not My will, but Yours be done."

If your Bible has a concordance, look up the word trust and you will find dozens of references throughout the Bible.  It's a big word.  It's a big deal.  The dictionary makes a distinction between trust and faith.  Trust implies depth and assurance of such feeling which may not always be supported by proof.  When acceptance of someone or something is fairly solid and emotionally charged, faith is the more appropriate term.

Due to our human nature it is almost impossible to say how we will react in a challenging situation. But due to our supernatural God, for Whom all things are possible, (Matthew 19:26) it is possible to make the choice and say, "Not my will, but Yours be done."

"...the angel Gabriel was sent from God..." (Judy)

I may have mentioned my son and his family, who have lived in China for the last 10 years. Josh and his wife Cleo have 3 birth children, ages 10, 7 and 5. Over the years, they became very interested and involved in an organization called Baobei. The name means “a precious or priceless treasure,” and it is apt. They identify Chinese orphans who require lifesaving surgery, and then work to bring them to Shanghai, provide them with the surgeries, and arrange for their care in local homes as they recover. Often, with the life-threatening condition ameliorated, the sweet babies are adopted. Baobei is a true partnership among doctors, orphanages, businesses who help to fund this process and many families in the expatriate community.

Over the years, Josh and Cleo – and their children - have supported Baobei financially, and even more, by offering a loving, caring home as the babies recover. Each orphan took away a small part of their hearts, until finally one took their hearts completely, and they began the tortuous path toward adoption. The little boy, originally called David by Baobei, but named Gabriel by Josh and his family, is now around 21 months old, is only a month or two from the completion of the formal adoption process, and is about to undergo a very serious, but potentially life-changing surgery at Children’s Hospital in Boston the day after tomorrow.

This past week little Gabriel had to endure the indignity and discomfort that is associated with pre-op testing – a series of MRIs, x-rays, injections, proddings and pokings – all positive and essential, but impossible for a frightened little boy to understand. The only solution much of the time was for Josh to hold him tight, and allow the doctors to proceed, while Gabriel wailed. One evening, Josh told us by phone that it was a terribly hard thing, to hold his little son down while pain was inflicted.

I was so moved that I could hardly continue the conversation. Here is a young man with 3 children of his own, a loving wife, a business across the world, an overwhelming number of events swirling around in his life – but completely focused on the pain of a child, not yet completely adopted, whom he called “his son.” The parallels with the story of God and his children made me want to weep myself. When we believe, we become a part of God’s family, with all the privileges and responsibilities. God wraps his arms around us, and tells us of his love for us. Like little Gabriel, we do nothing to earn such a gracious gift. It is freely bestowed, but at a great cost, and with beautiful, amazing, love-filled blessings.

Today I hold Gabriel, his family, and the doctors at Boston Children’s Hospital to the Light. And I offer thanksgiving for the process of adoption!

Roses Are Red by Carolyn

"Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Color is God's gift,
and looks so good on you!"

Most of you have seen the Wizard of Oz.  I'm sure you remember that it begins in black and white.  It is a most wonderful beginning, filled with the optimism of the great relationships Dorothy has with her family and friends on the farm.  Then there's the scary lady down the street who looks like a witch, acts like a witch and hates Dorothy's beloved, precious, little dog Toto.  At the start, the film is filled with good cheer and hope for a future, but it's also fraught with fear and concern for the future.

We see the snake oil salesman, good-natured and friendly, yet providing people with something that did them absolutely no good.  They jumped at it anyway.  People are easily deceived and persuaded to spend money chasing after cures that don't exist, particularly if it doesn't cost them much. 

Then the storm clouds gather quickly, the wind kicks up and suddenly Dorothy is swept away and lands in a new world filled with color!  At the time the movie was made audiences were just beginning to see films in color, so for them it must have been an amazing experience.  It is still amazing to us because of the stark contrast between black and white and color.

Color is a most amazing gift from God.  Most amazing!  Imagine if the world were only and exclusively black and white.  What if there were no vibrant colors?  No red, or blue, yellow, green, or orange, or none of the amazing hues in between the primary colors.  Nothing.  Just black and white.  Sometimes in the winter, looking out at the landscape there is only the white covered ground and the black, gray, brown trees and branches, but little else.  Color evokes emotional response too. Red indicates passion and blue sadness or melancholy.  Purple leaves us somewhere in between.

Life is a lot like color.  There are days when we are filled with the happy colors of good cheer and fun.  We are alive with hope, following the yellow brick road to success, love and joy.  There are days when our hopes are dashed and the world suddenly looks bleak, colorless and gray. 

Yet, isn't that the pallette of life?  Take the colors, all of them, including black and white, and separate them out, enjoy each for what it is itself; run them together, one with the other, a little of this and a little of that, the pastels contrasting with the primaries, while maintaining the integrity and beauty of basics and the beauty of black and white.

"Roses are red,
Pastures are green
Is it really the green
That makes the pasture serene?"

Fanny Crosby was blind.  Yet her spiritual insight was amazingly keen.  Color is a God-given gift, emotions are too, but the most important gift God give us is Himself.  He is free. We don't have to pay a dime, or do a thing.  Jesus paid for us.  He paid in full for all the sin and injustices in the world, ours and others.  He paid it all.  Our God paid the wages for our sin.  Salvation and eternity with our loving God and Father is 100% free and I'm guessing....very, very colorful!

Perry Como Got It Right (by Judy)

The month of June has been filled with the usual milestones that mark life passages – Jack’s and my 46^th wedding anniversary, as well as several others in the family; the end of school and BSF; the beginning of summer; grandchildren arriving for the annual visit to their “holiday house.” And one more, a pretty big one for me – retirement after 31 years at my current school, as well as employment at a handful of schools early in my career.

There sure are a lot of lessons that can be learned from 31 years at the same place. Especially since neither the school nor I am the same as we were when I started there. The school has grown physically, both facility and people.  I have changed physically too – a few more pounds, sags and wrinkles. It has recreated itself and its role in the community out of necessity and commitment. Over the 31 years, I was recreated, reborn, renewed by a loving God. Its position in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park has instilled a passion for the environment and sustainability. I still marvel and the beauty of my commute through the Park, but now within the context that This Is My Father’s World.

As my time to leave came closer, many people humbled me with emails, cards, notes and words. They spoke of shared love, nurture, encouragement, wisdom, and joy. I just closed my eyes and gave thanks to my Lord, who teaches all of us what such words mean. In the midst of such kindness, one card caused me to sink to my knees in gratitude and to weep. The printed card said, “Look forward to retirement as the reward it is for a job well done.” And she added in her own hand, “my good and faithful servant.”

A few days later some coworkers gave me a dinner, with a beautiful cake to end the celebration. The circular cake reminded me of the unbroken circle of God’s people and sweet words, “We love you” go round and round.  As I drove home in the twilight, I remembered the words from a song when I was growing up – a secular song that could be sung by the God whose blessings make me so grateful: Find a wheel, and it goes round, round, round, As it skims along with a happy sound, As it goes, along the ground, ground, ground, ‘Till it leads you to the One you love!

Nasty or Nice? by Carolyn

I learned a huge lesson the other day.  I volunteer at a nursing home.  I have been working there for nearly 8 years.  As you would expect, many of my patients have come and gone over the years, but several are still my "ladies."  One in particular is the subject of today's blog.

Kathleen and I have been friends for almost all of those eight years.  Recently, she became very ill.  Because of privacy concerns etc., I am not privy to what ails folks unless there are contagions involved, so I was only told that Kathleen had become very ill. 

When I went to visit I was shocked.  She had changed so much in a week.  She looked smaller, vulnerable and helpless.  Her demeanor seemed different too.  She was very quiet.  She wouldn't look at me.  Her brow was furrowed with deep lines.  I hardly knew what to say to this woman I hardly recognized.  She sat in her wheelchair unmoved and unmoving in a new room devoid of any of her personal things, or anything of a personal nature at all.  No pretty blankets, no pictures, no books, no personal effects.  There was a clean bed with plain white sheets, white pillows and a white blanket on it. 

I kneeled beside her so that I could look directly into her eyes, and took her hand in mine.  We had always had a very good relationship.  I knew all about her childhood and youth.  She grew up on a farm in Ohio with loving parents and grandparents.  She was the first in her family to attend college and she made the best of it.  For years she taught elementary school and her love for children was still so obvious.  She told me story after story about how hard she tried to help every one of them no matter what their race, background, abilities or attributes. She loved them.  She loved all of them.   She and her husband had no children of their own, but to her, each of these children was her "own." She had a "Teacher of Distinction and Excellence" plaque on her wall signed by the superintendent upon her retirement years ago.  She is very proud of that.

But now everything was different.  My heart went out to her.  I asked her how I could pray for her expecting her to say something about endurance, courage, patience, deliverance, all of which would have been perfectly understandable.  She looked me in the eye and whispered, "Pray that I won't lose my sense of humor.  Pray that I won't be nasty."

I was stunned.  For a moment, I was taken completely aback.  Then the tears welled up.  Here was a woman suddenly deprived of everything she knew, a little lady alone and in a lonely place in life.  92 years old, weak and vulnerable, but very, very wise.

"The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded than the shouts of a ruler of fools."
                                                                                                                  Ecclesiastes 9:17 

Sidewalk Signs (by Judy)

I had a most amazing experience this morning, so filled with blogging possibilities that I hardly know where to begin. It was a huge reminder that God is everywhere! All I have to do is pay attention. It started when I decided to exercise by taking a power walk around my neighborhood, rather than heading to the gym. I headed out the door, and a few houses down, my eyes were drawn to the sidewalk. Written with white chalk were two letters – GO!

 I chuckled and continued, giving the exhortation little thought. But the next word really rattled me, because it is a word I wrestle with often – “Thankful.” How easy it is for me to give thanks when my life is a joyful one. I am happily married, with two happily married children, and six beautiful grandchildren. My house is a warm yellow, reflecting my attitude toward life right now, as I head into retirement and the possibilities that await. I have health to take the morning walk, and senses to hear the birds and smell the sweet flowers. But what about when things are different. Will I be able to “Give thanks in all circumstances,” as my Bible calls me to do?

 As I continued my walk, my world became more and more surreal. Words popped up from the sidewalk in various neon colors – pink and blue, green and yellow – “Smart,” followed by “Happy,” “Trustworthy,” “Inspiring,” “Nice,"  “Positive.” I was so entranced that I was afraid to take a turn, for fear I would lose my direction. But then I saw, “Keep it up.” Later, “Almost there,” and I was swept into the prison where Paul wrote, “I have fought the good flight, I have finished the race, I have remained faithful.” Would my unknown inspirer say the same about me? What an encourager was drawing me forward. Am I that kind of person to those who are flagging?

 The words continued – “Kind,” “Genuine,” and the cute “Huggy” and “Crazy.” Even those took me to my faith as I reflected about hugging my neighbor, especially the one hardest to hug, and wondering whether anyone would see in me the crazy love that Jesus shows to those who heed His words. Suddenly, the words stopped with the final command – “Meet at the door.” Where? What door? Meet whom? I do know one door, the one in the Book of Revelation: "Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” 

Now it is raining. I suspect the words are washed away. But I have preserved on my iPhone which I always carry as I walk. I have the reminder that each word offers, and above all, I have the reminder that God has promised those five words from the beginning of time – “I will be with you.” I am sure glad I didn’t go to the gym!n j

Food for Thought by Carolyn

I recently heard of a new book by New York Times op-ed columnist Ross Douthat entitled "Bad Religion." First, I am not endorsing any book, any political persuasion, or any newspaper, magazine or other influencers of public opinion. BUT, I do believe it is necessary and prudent for all of us to be aware what's out there, come to our own conclusions and tell others.

I have not read the book yet either, so I am not presenting a critique. But I am intrigued by the idea the author proposes that in our lifetimes traditional Christianity has been co-opted by any number of false premises. This, of course, has been true throughout the ages and the Bible warns over and over again against false teachers. There are those who want to add something to the Gospel of Christ. There are those who want to take away and there are those who want to distort it and twist it to fit their own views of the world.

Every generation of Bible believing Christians can point to people who cling to Biblical truth; people who preach it fluently, who write about it, sing about it, who live it out every day of their lives. We know genuine truth when we hear it. Or at least we make of point of comparing it to Biblical truth if there is any doubt.

Like those who are charged with identifying counterfeit dollar bills by carefully, exhaustively studying the real thing, Christians are exhorted to study the Bible in the same way so that we will know truth when we see it. This is not something to be done on the fly. It is not something you pick up only in the pew on Sunday morning. While both of these are beneficial, it takes time and effort to study the Bible so that we really become rooted and knowledgeable, absorbing its truths so that we are able to tell the difference between Biblical truth and lies.

I am going to purchase a copy of this new book. I want to see if it adhers to Biblical truth. If it doesn't, fine. It's just another attempt to mislead or misinform for financial gain, power or what have you. But if it does, what am I going to do about it?

Our pastor often tell us, "You are intelligent people. Examine the Scriptures and see for yourselves." If this new book is a warning, then I will sit up and pay attention. By doing that I can alert others. As Christians, I believe, we have an obligation to speak up for the truth and against the lies of others no matter how good those lies may make us feel.