calm reflections
THOUGHTS FROM MY HEART ~ home & garden
Monday, November 9, 2009
The more Christ has suffered for us -
The more Christ has suffered for us--the dearer Christ should be unto us. The greater and the bitterer Christ's sufferings have been for us--the greater and the sweeter should our love be to Him. O my friends! there is no love but a superlative love, which is any way suitable to the transcendent sufferings of dear Jesus. Oh,
love Him above your lusts,
love Him above your relations,
love Him above the world,
love Him above all your contentments and enjoyments;
yes, love Him above your very lives!
Certainly the more bitter His sufferings have been for us, the more eminent should be our love to Him. Oh, how should this inflame our love to Christ! Oh, that our hearts were more affected with the sufferings of Christ! Who can tread upon these hot coals--and his heart not burn in love to Christ?
Oh, the infinite love of Christ--that He should leave His Father's bosom, and come down from heaven--that He might carry you up to heaven; that He who was a Son should take upon Him the form of a servant:
that you slaves--should be made sons;
that you enemies--should be made friends;
that you heirs of wrath--should be made heirs of God!
To save us from everlasting ruin, Christ was willing to be made flesh, to be tempted, deserted, persecuted, and to die upon a cruel cross! Oh what flames of love to Christ, should these things kindle in all our hearts!
Oh, let a suffering Christ lie nearest your hearts!
(Thomas Brooks "The Golden Key to Open Hidden Treasures")
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Wishin'
Plato expressed a desire that the moral law might become a living personage, that men seeing it thus incarnate, might be charmed by its beauty. Plato's wish was fulfilled in Jesus Christ! The holiness and the beauty of the divine law were revealed in Him.
The Beatitudes contain an outline of the ideal life--but the Beatitudes are only a transcript of the life of Christ Himself! What He taught about love--was but His own love stated in a course of living lessons for His friends to learn. When He said that we should be patient, gentle, thoughtful, forgiving, and kind--He was only saying, "Follow Me!"
If we could gather from the most godly people who ever have lived, the little fragments of lovely character which have blossomed out in each, and bring all these fragments into one personality--we would have the beauty of Jesus Christ! In one person you find gentleness, in another meekness, in another purity of heart, in another humility, in another kindness, in another patience. But in the holiest of men, there are only two or three qualities of ideal beauty--along with much that is stained and blemished, mingled with these qualities. In Christ, however, all that is excellent is found, with no flaw!
"You are absolutely beautiful, my Beloved; there is no flaw in You!" Song of Songs 4:7
~J. R. Miller
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Test of Amusements
"Is the love of pleasure growing upon you, gaining the power and the ascendency over you? Is it dulling the keenness of your zest for spiritual pleasures? Is it making Bible-study, prayer, communion with Christ, meditation upon holy themes--less sweet enjoyments than before? Is it making your hunger for righteousness, for God--less intense? Is it interfering with the comfort and blessing you used to find in worship services, or in Christian work?
If so, there is only one thing to do--hasten to return to God, cut off the pleasure which is imperiling the soul, and find in Christ the joy which the world cannot give, and which ever enhances the life. We must test all our pleasures and amusements by this rule--Are they helping us to grow into Christ-likeness and spiritual beauty?"
~J. R. Miller
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Ruined Handkerchief
"It is one of the wonders of divine love, that God will take even our blemishes and sins, when we truly repent of them and give them into His hands--and make them blessings to us in some way.
A friend once showed Ruskin a costly handkerchief, on which a blot of ink had been made. "Nothing can be done with that!" the friend said, thinking that the handkerchief was now ruined and worthless. Ruskin carried it away with him and after a time sent it back to his friend. In a most skillful and artistic way--he had made a fine design on the handkerchief, using the blot as its foundation. Instead of being ruined, the handkerchief was made far more beautiful and valuable.
Just so, God takes the flaws and blots and stains upon our lives, the disfiguring blemishes, when we commit them to Him, and by His marvelous grace--changes them into strength and beauty of character!
David's grievous sin, was not only forgiven--but was made a transforming power in his life.
Peter's pitiful fall, became a step upward through his Lord's forgiveness and gentle dealing. Peter never would have become the man he afterward became--if he had not denied his Lord, and then repented and been restored.
There is one thing always to be remembered. Paul tells us that we become more than conquerors in all life's trials, dangers, struggles, temptations, and sorrows--only "through Him who loved us." Without Christ--we must be defeated. There is only one secret that can turn evil into good, pain into blessing--that is the love of Christ. There is only one Hand which can take the blotted life--and transform it into beauty."'
J.. R. Miller "The Lesson of Love" (1903)
Painting: The Green Hat
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Losing Self
"The Christian's first duty—is to honor his Master. He must be willing to sink himself out of sight—in order that the name of Christ may be magnified. It is not possible to both honor Christ—and yet to honor ourselves before men. The wreath on our own brow must fade—if we would keep the wreath for Christ beautiful and green. We must decrease—that Christ may increase. We must be willing to fall into the shadow—that the full light may be cast upon Christ's lovely face. We must be ready to suffer loss—that the cause of Christ may be advanced. But all this seeming decrease if we are true at heart to our Master, is only seeming.
The honor on our brow is never so bright as when we have willingly stripped off the stars from ourselves to bind them on the brow of Jesus. It is easy to mar the beauty. We have all seen people chafing and envying, when position and influence once theirs—passed to others.
There is no severer test of character than comes in such experiences as this. It is not easy when others achieve promotions that we had hoped to win, for us to keep our spirits gentle, generous, and sweet. It is not easy, even in school, to have another win the prize which we sought and hoped to take, and then not to feel envious of him—but to treat him with true affection, joining his fellows in sincere honoring of him. It is not easy in the home, for a plain, unattractive child to see a bright, popular, brilliant sister idolized and petted, receiving universal praise—while she, the plain, homely one, is neglected and left without attention—it is not easy for the plain girl to see this and yet keep loyal affection in her heart and join cheerfully and sincerely in the honoring of the favorite. It is always hard to decrease—while another increases, especially if it is at our own cost.
Yet only as we learn to die to self, do we become like Christ. Unrenewed nature seeks all for self—and none for Christ. Becoming a Christian is the taking of Christ into the life—in the place of self. Then all is changed. Life has a new center, a new aim. Christ comes first. His plan for our lives is accepted, instead of our own. It is no more what we would like to do—but "What does the Master want us to do?"
It is no longer the pressing of our own will—but "May Your will, not mine, be done." This is the foundation of all Christian living—the dying of self—and the growing of Christ in the heart. So long as there remains any self-will, any unsubmission, any spirit of disobedience, any unconquered self, asserting its authority against the will of Christ—just so long, is our consecration incomplete.
This lesson has its very practical bearing on all our common, every-day life. Naturally we want to have our own way. We like to carry out our own plans and ambitions. We are apt to feel, too, that we have failed in life, when we cannot realize these hopes. This is the world's standard. The successful worldling is the one who is able to master all life's circumstances and make them serve him in his career. He is the man who "increases" until he fills a large place among men. The world has little praise or admiration for the man who "decreases" in his property, brilliance, power, or prosperity.
But we who read the Word of God know that there is an increase in men's eyes—which is a dwarfing, shrinking, and shriveling of the life in God's sight. We know also that there is a decrease in human eyes, which as God sees it, is a glorious enlargement and growth.
The greatest thing possible in any life—is to have the divine plan for it fulfilled, the divine will go on in it—even though it thwarts every human hope and dashes away every earthly dream. It is not easy for us to learn the lesson—that God's ways are always better for us than our own. We make our little plans and begin to carry them out. We think we have all things arranged for our greatest happiness and our best good.
Then God's plan breaks in upon ours—and we look down through our tears upon the shattered fragments of our fine plans. It seems wreck, loss, and disaster. But no—it is only God's larger, wiser, better plan—displacing our little, imperfect, shortsighted one.
It is true, that God really thinks about our lives and has a purpose of His own for them, a place He would have us fill, a work He would have us do. It seems when we think of it, that this is scarcely possible—that each one of the lives of His countless children—should be personally and individually thought about by the Father.
Yet we know that this is true of the least and lowliest of believers. Surely if God cares enough for us to make a plan for our life, a heavenly plan—it must be better than any plan of ours could be! It is a high honor, therefore, for His plan take the place of ours, whatever the cost and the pain may be to us.
This law of the dying of SELF, and the magnifying of Christ—is the only way to true usefulness. Not until self has been renounced, is anyone ready for true Christian service. While we are thinking how this or that will affect us, whether it will pay us to make this sacrifice or that self-denial; while we are consulting our own ease, our own comfort, our own interest or advantage in any form—we have not yet learned fully what the love of Christ means. This projecting of SELF into our serving of our fellow-men, mars the service and hinders its effectiveness.
We wonder if the person is 'worthy'—and if he is not, we do not want to waste our love upon him. We resent with impatience, the lack of gratitude in those we aid. We decline to serve others, because they are beneath us. That is, we put all our life on a commercial basis, and unless it seems to promise well for us in the way of outcome, we are not ready for it.
We need to learn the true meaning of Christ's love, for he never asks whether we are worthy or not, nor does he keep account of the number of times he has forgiven us. The law of love, which is the one law of all Christian life, does not follow the world's maxims. It is not 'so much'—for 'so much'. It asks not if there will be a return. It does not keep account of treatment received—and strike a balance for the governance of its future actions. It gives and serves and helps regardless of what it has received or may receive.
This law of the dying of self and the magnifying of Christ—is the secret of Christian peace. When Christ is small—and SELF is large—life cannot be deeply restful. Everything annoys us. We grow impatient of whatever breaks our comfort. We grieve over little trials. We find causes for discontent in merest trifles. We resent whatever would hinder or oppose us. There is no blue sky in the picture, of which SELF is the center. There are no stars shining overhead. It begins and ends in a little patch of dusty floor, with gray walls surrounding it and shutting it in.
But when SELF decreases—and Christ increases, then the picture is enlarged and takes in all of heaven's over-arching beauty. Then the stars shine down into its night and sunshine bathes its day. Then the life of friction and worry is changed into quietness and peace. When the glory of Christ streams over this little, cramped, fretted, broken life of ours—peace comes, and the love of Christ brightens every spot and sweetens all bitterness. Trials are easy to bear when self is small—and Christ is large.
We are apt to grow weary of the bitter, sorrowful struggle that goes on in our hearts, evermore, between the old nature and the new nature, between the old self and the new Christ. It seems sometimes as if it never would be ended. It seems, too, at times, as if we were making no progress in the struggle, as if there were no decreasing of self—and no increasing of Christ. We find the old evil things unconquered still, after years of battling—the old envies and jealousies, the old tempers, the old greed, the old irritabilities, the old doubt and fear and unbelief.
Will there never be release from this conflict? Yes, if only we live patiently and bravely, in faith and love and loyalty, SELF will decrease—and Christ will increase until he fills our whole life. If we reach up ever toward the light—our past of failure and unworthiness will be left behind and we shall grow into the fullness of the stature of Christ! The new will conquer and expel the old—until it becomes. "None of self—and all of Christ!"'
O the bitter shame and sorrow
That a time could ever be,
When I let the Savior's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered,
'All of self—and none of Thee.'
Yet He found me; I beheld Him
Bleeding on the accursed tree;
Heard Him pray, 'Forgive them, Father!'
And my wistful heart said faintly,
'Some of self—and some of Thee.'
Day by day His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and, ah! So patient,
Brought me lower, while I whispered,
'Less of self—and more of Thee.'
Higher than the highest heavens,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last hath conquered;
Grant me now my soul's desire,
'None of self—and all of Thee.'
—Theodore Monod
~Losing SELF in Christ by J. R. Miller, 1903
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
A Morning Prayer
Show me the way I should walk, for to You I lift up my soul.
Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in You.
Teach me to do Your will, for you are my God; may your gracious Spirit lead me on level ground. For Your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life; in Your righteousness, bring me out of trouble." Psalm 143:8-11
The sweetest flower needs heaven's sunshine and dew—to perfect its beauty and sustain its life. So does the holiest human life need God. A picture without sky in it is incomplete. Just so, a day on earth without a glimpse of heaven to brighten it, dies without a blessing. We rob our own heart and impoverish our life—if we do not avail ourselves of the help and renewal which we may get through prayer. Prayer lifts us into the very presence of God. It brings down upon us the power of Christ, according to the measure of our need, and the measure of our faith. He who lives without prayer—lives without God. He who lives a life of prayer—walks with God by day and by night. The more we have to do, and the more care we have—the more do we need to begin our days with prayer! No day starts well without its morning prayer. We need to get the touch of Christ's hand upon us, to give us calmness and strength as we go forth.
~J R Miller (1896)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Gift of Burdens
"Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in You." Psalm 143:9
" Each day is full of dangers--dangers we cannot see, and from which we cannot protect ourselves. Disease lurks in the air we breathe, and hides in the water we drink, or in the food we eat. Along the street where we walk, on the railway over which we ride--there are perils. Any moment we may be stricken down! There may be enemies who are plotting against us, conspiring to do us harm.
There are certainly spiritual enemies, who are seeking to destroy us! The sunniest day is full of them. No African jungle is so full of savage and blood-thirsty wild beasts--as the common days in our lives are full of spiritual enemies and perils. These dangers are unseen--and hence cannot protect ourselves. "Be careful! Watch out for attacks from the Devil, your great enemy! He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for some victim to devour!" 1 Peter 5:8
What, then, can we do? As we go out in the morning we can offer this prayer, "Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in You." We can thus put our frail, imperiled lives--into the hands of our almighty God!
"Cast your burden upon the Lord--and He shall sustain you." Psalm 55:22. We are not promised that our prayers shall take the perils and temptations out of our day. It is not thus, that God usually helps. We are bidden to cast our burden upon the Lord--but we are not told that He will lift it away from us. The promise is that we shall be sustained and strengthened in bearing it.
We need the burden! It is God's gift to us, and has a blessing in it, which we cannot afford to miss. Prayer does not take our trials away--but it puts our life into the hands of God--so that in His keeping, we shall be kept from harm while we pass through our trials. It brings God's grace into our heart--to preserve us from falling into sin; and God's strength into our life--that we may be victorious over our enemies.
Not to pray as we go into the day's dangers and trials--is to meet them without the help of Christ, and surely to suffer hurt, and possibly to fall into sin!"
~J. R. Miller "For a Busy Day" 1895
~Girl Reading by a Waterfall
Monday, November 2, 2009
Think on These Things
"Do this in remembrance of Me." 1 Corinthians 11:25
"The secret of all the noble heroisms of the Church, has been passionate love for Jesus!
The Lord's Supper was intended to keep Christ always vividly in remembrance. We are to think of Him, when we have the sacred memorials of His love in our hands, reminding us of what He did to redeem us. But we are to think of Him just as devoutly, when we are away from the sacred table--in the midst of worldly tasks and circumstances.
If we always remember Christ, it will keep us faithful in our loyalty--as true to Him out on the streets, and when we are tempted and tried--as when we are at His feet in prayer.
Remembering Christ, will transform us into His likeness. Our thoughts are the builders, which rear the temple of our character. If we think of unclean things--our lives will become unclean. If we think of earthly things--we will grow earthly. If we think of Christ, if thoughts of Him are in our mind and heart continually, we will be changed, moment by moment, into His beauty!
The highest attainment in Christian life--is to always remember Christ, never to forget Him, to keep His blessed face ever before us. Then we shall never lose His peace out of our hearts. Then we shall never fail Him in any duty or struggle. Then we shall never be lonely, for remembering Christ will keep us ever conscious of His gracious presence."
~J. R. Miller "The Life of Jesus"
~ Bruce W Lowery - The Cape May Lighthouse
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Troubles
"Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest O Israel, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God?" The Lord cares for all things, and the meanest creatures share in His universal providence, but His particular providence is over His saints.
.
"The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him."
"Precious shall their blood be in His sight."
"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."
"We know that all things work together for
good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose."
Let the fact that, while He is the Saviour of all men, He is specially the Saviour of them that believe, cheer and comfort you. You are His peculiar care; His regal treasure which He guards as the apple of His eye; His vineyard over which He watches day and night. "The very hairs of your head are all numbered." Let the thought of His special love to you be a spiritual pain-killer, a dear quietus to your woe: "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." God says that as much to you as to any saint of old. "Fear not, I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward."
We lose much consolation by the habit of reading His promises for the whole church, instead of taking them directly home to ourselves. Believer, grasp the divine word with a personal, appropriating faith. Think that you hear Jesus say, "I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not." Think you see Him walking on the waters of thy trouble, for He is there, and He is saying, "Fear not, it is I; be not afraid." Oh, those sweet words of Christ! May the Holy Ghost make you feel them as spoken to you; forget others for awhile--accept the voice of Jesus as addressed to you, and say, "Jesus whispers consolation; I cannot refuse it; I will sit under His shadow with great delight."
~Charles Haddon Spurgeon
~ Desk in my Kitchen
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The Two Birds
What to do - it happens that there is a balcony door in the hall, so I opened that, closed all the other doors and then went in to the weaving room, past the window to coax the poor bird toward the hall. Thankfully, it immediately noticed the fresh morning air and flew to freedom.
I am not sure how it got in, but likely down the chimney. We occasionally have chimney swifts but I didn't hear any this year.
The seemingly imprisoned bird reminds me of the story in the piece below:. .
"'Behold, happy is the man whom God corrects; therefore do not despise the chastening of the Almighty." Job 5:17
He is not happy at the time, at least, in the world's way. No affliction for the present seems to be joyous--but grievous. No one enjoys having troubles, sufferings, trials, sorrows. Therefore this statement made by Eliphaz appears very strange to some people. They cannot understand it. It is contrary to all their thoughts of happiness.
Of course the word 'happy' is not used here in the world's sense. The world's happiness is the pleasure that comes from the things that happen. It depends on personal comfort, on prosperous circumstances, on kindly and congenial conditions. When these are taken away--the world's happiness is destroyed.
But the word happy, here means blessed--and the statement is that blessing comes to him who receives God's correction. To correct, is to set right--that which has been wrong. Surely if a man is going in the wrong way, and God turns his feet back and sets him in the right way--a blessing has come to the man!
Afflictions are 'God's corrections'. They come always with a purpose of love in them. God never afflicts one of His children, without meaning His child's good in some way. So blessing is always intended by God. It is usually afterward that people begin to see and to understand the good that God sent them in their trial. "You do not understand what I am now doing" said Jesus, "but you shall understand hereafter." "No chastening seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." So when we have troubles and afflictions, we may know that God wants to do us good in some way through them.
Since this is so, Job was exhorted by Eliphaz, "Therefore do not despise the chastening of the Almighty." God chastens us to bless us--to do us good. He chastens us because He loves us.
He is not a true parent, who sees his children doing wrong, and yet fails to correct them for fear he may hurt their feelings. He ought to think of their higher good, and chasten them now--to profit them afterward.
This is the way our heavenly Father works. He never loves us better--than when He is correcting us. Therefore we ought not to despise this chastening. We ought not to murmur or complain when God does not give us our own way--but checks us, lays His afflictive hand upon us, and sends trouble upon us! We ought to have such faith in God--that we shall submit quietly, confidently, and sweetly to his will--even when it brings a heavy cross into our life.
A great many people need to pause at this line--and learn it. They do not treat God's chastening with reverence. Sometimes they are crushed by it, and refuse to look up into God's face with submission and love. Sometimes they grow bitter against God and say hard things of Him! We ought to reverence God's chastening; we ought to listen to the voice that speaks to us in our grief or pain.
The way in which God brings blessing through chastening, is emphasized: "For He wounds--but He also binds up; He strikes--but His hands also heal." Job 5:18. God never smites with both hands at once! When one hand is laid upon us in affliction--the other hand is reached out to help, to uphold, to heal.
Sometimes there is a trouble in a man's body which requires the surgeon's knife. There must be amputation, or cutting away, or cutting into. In such a case the skillful surgeon does not hesitate. He thinks far more of his patient's health for the future--than of his comfort at present. So he uses his knife--that he may cure disease, or save life. He wounds--to heal. He makes sore--that he may bind up. It is just so in all afflictions which God sends. He chastens--that He may deliver from the power of temptation. He hurts the body--that he may save the soul. He takes away earthly property--that He may give true, heavenly riches.
One writer tells of two birds and how they acted when caught and put into a cage. One, a 'starling', flew violently against the wire walls of its prison, in unavailing efforts to escape--only battering and bruising its own wings. The other bird, a 'canary', perched itself on the bar and began to pour forth bursts of sweet song, from its little throat. We know which bird was the wiser and happier.
Some people are like the starling--when they are in any trouble, they chafe and fret and complain and give way to wretchedness! The result is, they only hurt themselves, make themselves more miserable, and do not in any sense lessen their trouble. It is wiser always, as well as more pleasing to God, for us to bear our trials patiently, singing songs of faith and love--rather than crying out in rebellion and discontent.
Job wanted to get near to God in his great trouble; he cried, "Oh that I knew where I might find Him!" He felt sure that that would be the best and safest place for him to be. We ought not to lose this lesson. When trouble is upon us--the true thing for us to do, is to flee to God! Some people, in their affliction and sorrow--flee away from God. Thus they lose their joy and peace, missing the comfort which they would get if only they kept near to Him. The right way to respond, is to try to find the way to God's very presence. He is the only safe refuge, when the storms of trouble break upon us. The first thing always, in any time of trouble--is to find God and hide away in His bosom, as a child runs to the mother in alarm, or as the little bird flies to its nest. To find God--is to be safe!
God is our truest and best friend! He is our Father--we need never fear to go to Him. He gives heed unto our cries. He loves us. All His omnipotence is on our side. No mother's heart was ever so full of love for her child--as is the heart of God for us, His children!"
~J.R. Miller "Finding God's Comfort" 1896
~Photo: Bluebird by Bruce W Lowery:
Friday, October 30, 2009
The Blessings in Sorrow
"Sooner or later, sorrow comes to every home. No conditions of wealth or culture or social standing, or even of religion, can exclude it.
When two young people come from the marriage-altar, and set up their new home, it seems to them that its joy never can be disturbed, that grief can never reach their hearts in that charmed spot. For a few years, perhaps, their fond dream remains unbroken. The flowers bloom into still softer beauty and richer fragrance; the music continues light and joyous, with no minor cords; the circle is unbroken; children grow up in the tender atmosphere, blessing the home with their love and lovableness; the household life flows on softly and smoothly, like a river, gathering in breadth and depth as it flows. In other homes, all about, there are sorrows, bereavements, but amid these desolations of the dreams of other households, this one remains untouched, like an oasis in the desert; but not forever does the exemption continue.
There comes a day when the strange messenger of sorrow stands at the door, nor waits for bidding and welcome—but enters, and lays his withering hand on some sweet flower!
The first experience of grief is very sore—its suddenness and strangeness add to its terribleness. What seemed so impossible yesterday, has become a fearful reality today. The dear one whom we held so securely, as we thought that we never could lose her, is gone now, and no more answers to our call. It seems to us that we never can be comforted, that we never can enjoy life again, since the one who made for us so much of the gladness of life has been taken away.
The time of the first sorrow is to every life a most critical point, a time of great danger. The way is new and untried, one over which the feet have never passed before. At no other point, therefore, is wise and loving guidance more needed. Many lives are wrecked on the hidden reefs—and the low, dangerous rocks which skirt the shores of sorrow's sea. Many people find in grief—an enemy only, to whom they refuse to be reconciled, and with whom they contend in fierce strife, receiving only injury and harm to themselves in the unavailing conflict.
An impression prevails, that sorrow is in itself a blessing in its influence, that it always makes purer and holier and better—the lives that it touches; but this is not true. Sorrow has in itself no purifying efficacy, as some suppose, by which it removes from sinful lives their blemishes and stains. The same fire which refines the gold—destroys the flowers. Sorrow is a fire, which in God's hand is designed to purify the lives of his people, but which, unblessed, produces only desolation. It depends on the relation of the sufferer to Christ, as a friend or enemy; and on the reception given to grief, whether it leaves good or ill where it enters. In a Christian home, where the love of Christ dwells and holds sway, sorrow should always leave a benediction. It should be received as God's own messenger; and we should welcome it, and listen for the divine message which it bears. For God's angels do not always come to us—as we are apt to imagine them coming, in radiant dress, with smiling face and gentle voice. Thus artists paint them thus—in their pictures.
Thus we imagine them—in their ministries. We think of them as possessing rare and wondrous loveliness; and so, no doubt, they do as they appear before God, and serve in his presence. There is no unloveliness in any angel-face in heaven. No angel has features of sternness; but, as these celestial messengers come to earth on their ministries, they appear ofttimes in forms which appall, and fill the trembling heart with terror and alarm! Yet ofttimes it is when they come in these very forms—that they bring their sweet messages and their best blessings.
"All God's angels come to us disguised,
Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death,
One after other lift their frowning masks,
And we behold the seraph's face beneath,
All radiant with the glory and the calm
Of having looked upon the face of God."
Wherever God's messenger of sorrow is thus received in a Christian home, with welcome even amid tears and pain—it will leave a blessing of peace, and will make the home sweeter, tenderer, heavenlier. We speak of love as the atmosphere in which the home reaches its best development in the direction of happiness, as in summer warmth the flowers unfold their rarest beauty and sweetest fragrance; but really no home ever attains its highest blessedness and joy, and its fullest richness of life, until in some way, sorrow enters its door. Even the home love, like certain autumn fruits, does not ripen into its sweetest tenderness, until the frost of trial has touched it.
When a green log of wood is laid on the hearth on a winter evening, and the fire begins to play about the log—a strange, plaintive music comes from the wood. A poet would tell you, that, while the tree stood in the forest, the birds sat amid its branches, and sang there, and that the notes of their songs hid away in the tree. Then he would tell you that the music you now hear from the log as it burns, is this bird-minstrelsy, which has remained imprisoned in the wood until brought out by the hot flames.
The poet's thought is only imaginary, but it well illustrates a truth concerning the life of a Christian home, which is worth pondering and remembering. In the sunny days of joy, the bird-notes of gladness are sung all about us, and sink away into our hearts, and hide there. The lessons, the influences, the tender impressions, the peace, and the beautiful things of quiet, happy, prosperous years, fall upon our lives, as the sunbeams and rain showers fall the fields and the long autumn and winter and early spring—and seem to be lost. There appears but little to show for so much absorption of brightness and blessing. Our lives do not appear to yield the measure of joy they should yield. Then the flames of trial are kindled; and, in the heat of suffering, the long-gathering and long-slumbering music is set free—and flows out! Many of the world's best things have been born of affliction. The sweetest songs ever sung on earth—have been called out by suffering. The richest blessings that we enjoy—have come to us out of the fire. The good things we inherit from the past—are the purchase of suffering and sacrifice. Our redemption comes from Gethsemane and Calvary. We get heaven through Christ's tears and blood. Whatever is richest and most valuable in life anywhere, has been in the fire.
Our love for one another may be strong and true in the sunny days, but it never reaches its holiest and fullest expression until pain has touched our hearts, and called out the hidden treasures of affliction. Even the love of a mother for her child, deep and pure as it is, never reaches its full wondrousness of devotion and sacrifice—until the child suffers, and the mother bends over it in yearning and solicitude. The same is true of all the home loves—the best and divinest qualities in them come out only in the fires. The household which has endured sorrow in the true spirit of love and faith, emerges from it undestroyed, untarnished, and with purer, tenderer affections, with less of animosity, of selfishness, and earthliness. When husband and wife stand together beside their dead child, they are drawn to each other as never before; their common grief is purifying. Children which remain are dearer to parents, after one has been taken. Brothers and sisters grow more thoughtful and patient in their mutual fellowship, when the home circle has been broken. There is in an empty chair in a Christian home a wondrous power to soften the animosities of each, and refine all the affections and feelings. The cloud of grief which hangs over a household, like the summer cloud above the fields and gardens, leaves wondrous blessings.
Is it raining, little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither you.
Twill shine again.
The sky is very black, tis true,
But just behind—it shines blue.
Are you weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain;
In sorrow, sweetest things will grow
As flowers in rain.
God watches, and you will have sun
When clouds their perfect work have done.
But how may we make sure of the benedictions which sorrow brings? Even the gospel is the savor of death to those who reject it; and sorrow, though it may be God's evangel, ofttimes comes and goes away again, leaving no heavenly gift. How must we treat this dark-robed messenger, if we would receive the heavenly blessings it bears in its hands?
We must welcome it, even in our trembling and tears—as sent from God! We must believe that it comes from our Father, and that, coming from him, it is a messenger of love to us, bearing a true blessing to us, though it is a loss or a pain. We must ask for the message which God has sent us in the affliction, and listen to it as we would to a message of gladness. It has some mission to us, or some gift from heaven. Some golden fruit lies hidden in the rough husk! Some bit of gold in us, God designs to be set free from its dross—by this fire. There is some radiant height beyond this dark valley, to which he wants to lead us.
Christ himself accepted and endured with loving submission—the bitter sorrow of his cross, because he saw the joy set before him, which waited beyond the sorrow. In the same way, we should accept our griefs, because they are but the shaded gateways to peace and blessedness. If we cannot get through the gateways, we cannot get the radiant joys which wait beyond the sorrow. Not to be able to take from our Father's hand, the seed of pain, is to miss the fruits of blessing which can grow from no other sowing. If we are wise, we will give sorrow as cordial a welcome as joy; for it is from the same loving hand, and brings gifts as good and as golden.
We must remember, that it is in the home where Christ himself dwells—that sorrow unlocks its heavenly treasures. A Christless home receives none of them. Those who shut their doors on Christ, shut out all blessedness, and, when the lamps of earthly joy go out—are left in utter darkness! A wise forethought will make sure of the hopes and comforts, of a personal interest in Christ; and of having him as a guest in the sunny days, that, when the shadow of night falls—the stars of bright hope may shine out!
~Sorrow in Christian Homes. by rJ. R Miller (1866)
~Afternoon Delight by Larie Snow Hein.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Trouble Sleeping?
"God, my Maker, who giveth songs in the night.--Job 35:10
Any man can sing in the day. When the cup is full, man draws inspiration from it. When wealth rolls in abundance around him, any man can praise the God who gives a plenteous harvest or sends home a loaded argosy. It is easy enough for an Aeolian harp to whisper music when the winds blow--the difficulty is for music to swell forth when no wind is stirring. It is easy to sing when we can read the notes by daylight; but he is skilful who sings when there is not a ray of light to read by--who sings from his heart.
No man can make a song in the night of himself; he may attempt it, but he will find that a song in the night must be divinely inspired. Let all things go well, I can weave songs, fashioning them wherever I go out of the flowers that grow upon my path; but put me in a desert, where no green thing grows, and wherewith shall I frame a hymn of praise to God?
How shall a mortal man make a crown for the Lord where no jewels are? Let but this voice be clear, and this body full of health, and I can sing God's praise: silence my tongue, lay me upon the bed of languishing, and how shall I then chant God's high praises, unless He Himself give me the song?
No, it is not in man's power to sing when all is adverse, unless an altar-coal shall touch his lip. It was a divine song, which Habakkuk sang, when in the night he said,
"Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation."
Then, since our Maker gives songs in the night, let us wait upon Him for the music. O Thou chief musician, let us not remain songless because affliction is upon us, but tune Thou our lips to the melody of thanksgiving."
~Charles Haddon Spurgeon
~Painting: "Woman in Garden of Peonies by Abbott Fuller Graves
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
My Paternal Grandmum
Grandma passed away when my father was very small, leaving Grandpa a widower for the second time. This photograph may have been taken on their wedding day. My aunt who was also quite young has sweet wistful memories of her dear mother, described as having beautiful long red hair. She was known for her sweet, gentle ways and her beautiful smile.My thoughtful aunt recently gave me the unfinished quilt Grandma had started before she died in the thirties, a precious fragment of a beautiful, simple life, seeming left unfinished. I notice she carefully stitched the edges of this quilt!
She was a strong Christian whose elusive sweet fragrance still wafts through our memories and envelopes even the grand daughter she never knew with the carefully stitched pieces of her love.
I found this poem in her scrapbook:
Inceasing fear and woe
Poetic Beauty
"The burning bushes are still retaining their glorious color.
I like the second part of October
with the deep burgundies and browns and the sunny golds.
The really bright scarlets are pretty much on the ground now,
but the deep colors are comforting."
~J M Benson
Discouragement
We should settle it once for all—that the ideal Christian life is one of habitual cheerfulness. It has its experiences of difficulty, of disappointment, of suffering; but these are meant to be only lessons set for us to learn, and we are not expected to fail in them. Provision is made for us in the grace of God, by which we may overcome in every such experience, and be more than conquerors through him who loved us. A feeling of discouragement creeping into our heart should be met, therefore, as a temptation. He who opens to it, and lets it in—does not know to what sin and sorrow it may lead him. An example will help us to understand the peril of discouragement.
A fragment of old history tells us of the Israelites, that at a certain time they were much discouraged because of difficulty of the way. The way itself was indeed hard, rough, and dreary, leading through the sandy desert, where the heat was intense, with no shelter anywhere from the sun's fierce, smiting rays. It was discouraging also because it was a sudden interruption of their journey. When they were at the very gate of the promised land, a barrier was thrown across their path, and they were compelled to make a long detour through an inhospitable wilderness, instead of entering at once into the country toward which for so long their hopes had been leading them. What made it all so much worse was the needlessness of it—but for Edom's disobligingness. Edom would not allow his brother Israel, to pass through his country to reach his own land. Indeed, he said that if he attempted to pass, he would resist him with armed force. It certainly was very discouraging to be treated so by a brother. We are scarcely surprised that the Israelites were discouraged, and yet we must read the story through to the end, to see to what the discouragement led. They murmured against God and against Moses. Then murmuring grew into profane contempt of God's mercy and goodness, and to the grievous sin of rebellion. It is when we follow it to its final outcome, that we see the true nature of discouragement.
Many people find the way of life hard at some time or other. There are scarcely any who do not come upon points of hardness, even amid the most prosperous and happy years. There are elements in many people's condition and circumstances, which in themselves are hard. Sometimes it is sickness, sometimes poverty, sometimes sorrow. The burdens are heavy. The toil is oppressive. The way is wearisome. Then sometimes, as in the case of the Israelites, much of the hardness is caused by unbrotherly conduct. There are brothers who put barriers in the way, and make life harder for brothers.
We all need to guard our conduct most sedulously, lest we become hinderers of others in their godly living. It is a sin to be a hinderer. We commit a grievous wrong against another, when we make life harder for him—when we make it harder for him to be true, honest, pure-hearted, and worthy. Edom made it immeasurably harder for Israel, simply by being disobliging. There are many people who make the way longer and harder for others, when by a little unselfish obligingness, a little cheering helpfulness, they might make it easier for them. It is a sin to be a discourager!
The ten spies who brought back the cowardly report about the giants, and thus spread disheartenment and dismay—wrought a great crime against the people. Their discouraging words led to most calamitous consequences—the doom of death on a whole generation, and the shutting of a nation out of the promised land for forty years. Yet similar wrongs are being committed continually right in our own Christian days. Discouragers go about among men, and, by their gloomy, pessimistic words—they make life incalculably harder for them. They put out the lamps of cheer and hope which shine in men's homes. They quench the very stars that burn in the sky above men's heads. They take the gladness out of hearts. They see only the dark shadows of life, never the sunshine; and they prate wherever they go of gloom and doom. They never bring us a message of cheer. We are never stronger, braver, happier, or truer—for meeting them.
On the other hand, after a talk with one of these discouragers, we always feel as if part of life's beauty had faded, as if there were less to live for. Our stars of hope shine less brightly, and a sense of weariness and languor creeps over our spirits. Life is harder for us after meeting them. There should be nothing but condemnation for the discourager. He is an enemy of his fellows. He casts a black shadow over human hearts. He is an enemy to mankind. It is a great sin against humanity—to make life harder for men.
Our great Teacher spoke some of his most scathing words against those who put stumbling-blocks in the path of God's little ones. This divine censure falls upon all who in any way lay hindrances in the paths of others. The Christian duty of everyone is to be an encourager, a helper of others in their life. No mission can be nobler, diviner, than that of him who lives to be an inspirer of hope and cheer, and to make others braver and stronger for life's experiences.
There is a pleasant story of a plain woman in Glasgow, who, one summer day, was walking along a street in which some poorly clad children were running barefooted at their play. A policeman saw this woman stoop down again and again as she went on, each time picking up something which she put in her apron. The officer supposed she was finding and appropriating something she should not take, and, hurrying after her, demanded in a threatening manner that she let him see what she had in her apron. The trembling woman complied, and showed the guardian of the city's safety some pieces of broken glass which she had gathered up out of the street. "I thought I would take them out of the way of the children's feet," she said. The act was a beautiful one. The poor woman was doing angels' work. She was making the street a safer place for the children to play in.
There are some thoughtful people who will never let a piece of banana-skin or orange-peel lie on the pavement—but will stop, no matter how hurriedly they are walking, to remove the dangerous rind, lest someone might be made to stumble, and be maimed by stepping on it. It is well that there always are those who have an eye and a hand for such ministries, who are ready to save us from the consequences of others' hurtful carelessness. It should be our aim, not only to pick up bits of broken glass from the children's playgrounds to make them safer, and to lift from the sidewalks bits of orange-peel or banana-skin to prevent accidents to the unwary—but in all life's ways to gather out the stones and the stumbling-blocks, and whatever might hinder or hurt our fellow-pilgrim in his journey.
Whatever the cause of, or whoever is responsible for the hardness, there is no doubt that in every life, there are many experiences which have a discouraging tendency. It may seem almost too much to say that whatever the hardness of the way may be, nevertheless, a Christian should never be discouraged. Yet this is the other side of the lesson. It is never safe to give way, to even the beginnings of discouragement; for if we do, we cannot know what the end will be.
Discouragement cherished leads to despondency and despair. Even if it does not grow to such sad ripeness, it works grievous harm in a life. It produces a noxious atmosphere, in which all the lamps burn but dimly. It weakens one's moral purposes, and paralyzes one's energies. A discouraged man is only half himself. He takes hold of duty with only half his usual earnestness. His feet drag wearily as he goes about his duties. Discouragement makes the hard path—much harder; and the heavy load—much heavier. We should live continually so that our life shall make it easier for others to live; never to be hinderers—but always helpers, of others. No one can afford to yield to discouragement, even for one hour, in the smallest degree. We require all our strength all the time—if we would be equal to the burden, stress, and responsibility of our common days.
Life is not easy for any of us, if we would meet it worthily, and make of it what God expects us to make. It is necessary that our eye shall be clear, its light undimmed; that our heart shall beat with full pulsings; that our hand shall be strong and steady, and that all our powers shall be at their best.
This cannot be—if we are the prey of discouragement, or if we yield in even the smallest degree to its influence. Then, not only does discouragement weaken us, unfitting us for our best work—but it leads to doubt and unbelief, and ofttimes to other sins! It leads to murmuring and complaining, and these are sins which grieve God. It makes men blind to God's goodness, and ofttimes rebellious against God's will. Many people throw away their chance in life, through discouragement.
When Norman McLeod was a boy he was much discouraged, and, in a fit of petulance, said, "I wish I never had been born!" His pious mother said, "Norman, you have been born; and, if you were a wise child, you would ask the Lord what you were born for." He took the good advice, and found that God had a noble plan for his life.
"But how can we keep from being discouraged?" asks someone. "When the way is hard, when the burdens are heavy, when the path is through hot deserts, when even friends make life harder for us—how can we help being discouraged?"
There is an answer to this question of fearfulness in the words of the old Hebrew prophet: "Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vine; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the LORD! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation. The Sovereign LORD is my strength! He will make me as surefooted as a deer and bring me safely over the mountains!" Habakkuk 3:17-19
If we are Christians, there never can be a sufficient reason why we should be discouraged. "If God is for us—who can be against us?" We need only to abide in Christ, doing always our simple duty, and leaving all in his hands. There is no doubt that every hard thing that God permits to come into our life, has a blessing wrapped up in it. The things which appear before us as discouragements, prove to be helps toward nobler attainments.
A Christian physician, whose career has been full of faith and noble ministry, gives this experience: He was a poor boy, and a cripple. One day he was watching some other boys on the ball-field. They were active, strong, and wealthy. As he looked on, his heart grew bitter with envy. A young man who stood beside him noted the discontent on his face, and said to him, "You wish you were in those boys' place, don't you?" " Yes, I do!" was the answer. "I reckon God gave them money, education, and health," continued the young man, "to help them to be of some account in the world. Did it never strike you," he continued, after a moment's pause, ''that he gave you your lame leg for the same reason—to make a man of you?" The boy gave no answer, and turned away. He was angry—but he did not forget the words. His crippled leg was God's gift! To teach him patience, courage, perseverance! To make a man of him! He thought of the words until he saw their meaning. They kindled hope and cheer, and he determined to conquer his hindrance. He grew heroic. He soon learned that what was true of his lame leg, was true also of all the difficulties, hindrances, and hard conditions of his life—they were all God's gifts to him to help him to be of some account in the world—to make a man of him.
The lesson is for all of us, especially for young people who seem born with more than their share of disadvantages, limitations, hard conditions. God gave them this heavy load, whatever it is, to make something of them. The deformity, the burden, the weight of some other one's need laid upon the shoulder, the inheritance of difficulty which seems to be a hindrance to a worthy life—is but another opportunity to grow, to become stronger, richer-hearted, more a man or a woman, to win a higher place in life, and a brighter crown in glory! In any case, we should never give place to discouragement for a moment!
If we are God's children, we have only to keep ourselves in God's hands, and keep our own hands off; then, out of the sorest difficulties and the hardest conditions, blessings will come. God lives, and is caring for us, and we can say: "God is in his heaven—All is right with his world."
DISCOURAGEMENT by J. R. Miller, 1896
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Living by the Day
Every individual life must be lived amid countless antagonisms, and in the face of countless perils. Battles must be fought, trials encountered, and sorrows endured.
Also, the brief earthly course--is but the beginning of an endless existence, whose immortal destinies hinge upon fidelity in the present life.
Looked at in this way, as a whole, there is something almost appalling in the thought of our responsibility in living.
Many a person who thinks of life in this aspect, and sees it in its wholeness, has not the courage to hope for success and victory--but stands staggered, well-near paralyzed, on the threshold. Despair comes to many a heart when either duty or sorrow or danger is looked at--in the aggregate.
But this is not the way we should view life. It does not come to us all in one piece. We do not get it even in years--but only in days--day by day. We look on before us, and as we count up the long years with their duties, struggles, and trials--and the bulk is like a mountain which no mortal can carry. But really, we never have more than:
one day's battles to fight, or
one day's work to do, or
one day's burdens to bear, or
one day's sorrow to endure,
in any one day.
It is wonderful how the Bible gives emphasis to this way of viewing life. When for forty years God fed His chosen people with bread from heaven, He never gave them, except on the morning before the Sabbath, more than one day's portion at a time. He positively forbade them gathering more than would suffice for the day; and if they should violate His command, what they gathered above the daily portion, would become corrupt. Thus early, God began to teach His people to live only by the day--and trust Him for tomorrow.
At the close of the forty years, the promise given to one of the tribes was, "As your days--so shall your strength be." Deuteronomy 33:25. Strength was not promised in advance--enough for all of life, or even for a year, or for a month--but the promise was, that for each day, when it came with its own needs, duties, battles and griefs--enough strength would be given. As the burden increased--more strength would be imparted.
The important thought here is, that strength is not emptied into our hearts in bulk--a supply for years to come--but is kept in reserve, and given day by day, just as the day's needs require.
When Christ came, He gave still further emphasis to the same method of living. He said, "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today's trouble is enough for today!" Matthew 6:34. He would have us fence off the days by themselves, and never look over the fence to think about tomorrow's cares.
The thought is, that each day is, in a certain sense--a complete life by itself. It has . . .
its own duties,
its own trials,
its own burdens,
its own needs.
It has enough to fill our heart and hands for the one full day. The very best we can do for any day, for the perfecting of our life as a whole--is to live the one day well. We should put all our thought and energy and skill into the duty of each day, wasting no strength--either in grieving over yesterday's failures, or in anxiety about tomorrow's responsibilities.
Our Lord, also, in the form of prayer which He gave his disciples, taught this lesson of living only by the day. There He has told us to ask for bread--for one day only. "Give us this day our daily bread." He again teaches us that we have to do only with the present day. We do not need tomorrow's bread now. When we need it--it will be soon enough to ask God for it, and get it. It is the 'manna lesson' over again. God is caring for us, and we are to trust Him for the supply of all our needs--as they press upon us. We are to trust Him, content to have only enough in hand for the day.
If we can but learn to thus live by the day, without anxiety about the future--the burden will not be so crushing. We have nothing to do with life in the aggregate--that great bulk of duties, responsibilities, struggles, and trials--which belong to a course of years. We really have nothing to do even with the nearest of the days before us--tomorrow. Our sole business is with the one little day, now passing. Its burdens will not crush us--we can easily carry them until the sun goes down. We can always get along for one short day. It is the projection of life into the long future, which dismays and appalls us. This lesson makes life easy and simple!"
~ (J.R. Miller SERMONS "Living by the DAY")
Monday, October 26, 2009
Indian Summer
Burdens
"Cast your burden upon the Lord--and He shall sustain you." Psalm 55:21
This privilege is a very precious one. We all have our burden. No matter how happy anyone is--he is bearing some weight of care, or sorrow, or responsibility. Continually we find our load too heavy for our own unaided strength. We feel that we cannot carry it without help. Human love comes up close beside us, willing, if it were possible, to take the burden from our shoulder, and carry it for us. But this is not possible. "Every man must bear his own burden." Most of life's loads, are not transferable.
Take pain, for instance. No tenderest, truest love--can bear our pain for us, or even bear any smallest part of it.
Or take sorrow. As close as human friendship may come to us when our heart is breaking with grief--it cannot take from us any least portion of the anguish we suffer, as we meet bereavement.
Or take struggle with temptation. We can get no human help in it, and must pass through the struggle alone.
It will be noticed, too, that God Himself does not promise to bear our burden for us. So much is it an essential and inseparable part of our life--that even divine love will not relieve us of its weight.
The teaching from all this, is that we cannot hope to have our life-burden lifted off. Help cannot come to us, in the way of relief. The prayer to be freed from the load, cannot be answered. The assurance is--not that the Lord will take away our burden when we cast it upon Him, lifting it away from our shoulder. It is, instead, a promise that while we bear our burden, whatever it may be--that the Lord will sustain us. "Cast your burden upon the Lord--and He shall sustain you." He will give us strength to continue faithful, to go on with our doing of His will, unimpeded, unhindered, by the pressure of the load we must carry.
An alternative rendering of this verse is, "Cast your gift upon the Lord--and He shall sustain you." Thus we see, that our burden is a gift of God to us! At once the thing, which a moment ago seemed so oppressive in its weight, so unlovely in its form--is hallowed and transformed! We had thought it to be an evil--whose effect upon us could be only hurtful, hindering our growth, marring our happiness. But now we see that it is another of God's blessings, not evil--but good, designed not to hurt us, nor to impede our progress--but to help us onward!
A gift from a human friend, is a token and pledge of their love for us. In like manner, God sent this gift to us--because He loves us. It is a memento of divine affection. It may be hard for us to understand this. It may be a burden of pain, and pain seems so opposed to comfort--that we cannot see how it can be a gift of love. It may be sorrow; and sorrow never for the present seems to be joyous--but always grievous. It may be great loss--the stripping from us of life's pleasant things, leaving emptiness and desolation. How such burdens as these can be tokens of divine affection, God's gift of love--it is hard for us to conceive. Yet we know that God is our Father, and that His love for us never fails. Whatever comes from His hand to us--must be sent in love!
The world offers attractive things--pleasures, gains, promises of honor and delight. To the eye of sense, these appear to be life's best things. But too often they enfold bitterness and hurt, the fruit of evil. At the bottom of the cup--are dregs of poison! On the other hand, the things that God gives, appear sometimes unattractive, undesirable, even repulsive! We shrink from accepting them. But they enfold, in their severe and unpromising form--the blessings of divine love.
We know how true this is of life's pains and sorrows. Though grievous to sense, they leave in the heart which receives them with faith and trust--the fruits of divine blessing. Whatever our burden may be, it is God's gift, and brings to us some precious thing, from the treasury of divine love. This fact makes it sacred to us. Not to accept it--is to thrust away from us, a blessing sent from heaven. We need, therefore, to treat most reverently--the things in our life, which we call burdens.
We should regard all the gifts of God to us--with affection. This is easy for us so long as these gifts come to us in pleasant form--things that give joy to us. But with no less love and gratitude should we receive and cherish God's gifts, which come in forbidding form. It is the same divine love which sends the one--and also the other. The one is no less good--than the other. There is blessing as truly in the gift of pain or loss or trial--as in the gift of song and gain and gladness. Whatever God sends--we should receive in confidence, as a gift of His love. Thus it is, that our burden, whatever it may be, is hallowed.
It may not always be easy to carry it, for even love sometimes lays heavy burdens on the shoulders of its beloved. A wise father does not seek always to make life easy for his child. Nothing could be more unkind! He would have his child grow strong--and, therefore, he refuses to take away the hard task. God is too loving and kind, too true a father--to give us only easy things. He makes the burden heavy--that we may become strong in bearing it. But He is always near; and He gives us the help we need, that we may never faint beneath it. Thus we may always know, that our burden is our Father's gift to us!
(J. R. Miller "Things to Live For" 1896)
Down Memory Lane
Is there anything more lovely, more beautiful and fair;
Like a crown of glittering jewels, on summer's golden hair,
Than glorious October, with skies so deep and blue,
When every bush and shrub and tree is dyed the deepest hue?
Oh! If I were but an artist, I'd work with patient care,
With brush and colors soft and bright, I'd paint a picture rare,
I'd paint the maples on the hill, all scarlet red and gold,
The hickory like a yellow cloud, reflects the sunshine bold.
The sturdy oak in cardinal robed, to shades of deepest wine;
And hiding half the old stone wall, green fern and crimson vine.
The whisp'ring pine trees here and there in everlasting green:
And by the pasture fence, there'd be the flaming sumac seen.
And then the softly murmuring brook where graze the gentle herd,
The shadows creeping down the hill, the flash of passing bird.
The rolling meadows emerald green, the orchard bending down
With many kinds of luscious fruit, all golden, crimson, brown.
The purple mists o'er distant hills,
Bright lights and shadows dim,
A cottage white where children play
and sing the evening hymn.
And when my picture fair was done, I'm sure there'd yet remain
So many lovely things that it would not contain,
For artists cannot paint the charm, nor poets write in lays
All the beauty of October's glorious dreamy days.
~Winnie B. McNamire
I never knew my paternal grandmother for she died shortly after the birth of her baby in the thirties, leaving an infant, as well as my father and three older siblings. My father died when I was six so I never learned much about Grandma until recent years when I was blessed to be reunited with my father's closest sister.
Last weekend I visited this dear Aunt who presented me with a quilt top and scrapbook from her small trove of precious momentos. She was only eleven when she lost her mother whom she so lovingly describes as gentle, with beautiful long red hair, a beloved Sunday School teacher and president of The Ladies Aid Society. Grandma started the quilt which is meticulously hand stitched and also made a scrapbook using a 1930 Sears, Roebuck & Co. Wallpaper Catalogue, filling the pretty pages with poems, patriotic articles and "pieces" her little children had learned for S.S. Programs.
I didn't know she enjoyed poetry so these clippings provide a wondrous glimpse into her interests and the thoughts of her heart.
This poem entitled "October" is from Grandma's scrapbook.
The. October photograph was taken this past week..
Daybook
Outside my window...
The sky is black, dark and chilly.
I am thinking...
Yes, and isn't it a joy?
I am thankful for...
The opportunity to sip my coffee quietly before day breaks.
I am wearing...
An ankle length pale rose brushed cotton gown with long sleeves, a wide scooped neck edged with narrow lace through which is laced narrow satin ribbon to tie above several tiny buttons with loops, a pretty quaint chemise-like style. Bare toes are tucked beneath a coverlet, hair is still in the usual "up" style as it is so long that I get tangled in it otherwise.
I am remembering...
What a wonderful concert we attended Friday night, a group of eight madrigal singers. Mesmerizing!
I am going...
To see my friend and neighbor who have their home on the market, heading for Florida later in the week. They don't want to maintain two places nor deal with the cold, snowy winter.
I am reading...
Passages from my Bible related to end times and the scrapbook my grandmother started in 1930 in which she saved favourite poems and articles that caught her fancy. It is a fascinating glimpse into the heart of a lovely young woman who died of septicemia in her thirties.
I am hoping....
To work outside cutting back more perennials and finish cleaning up the Potager. The carrots, chard, kohl crops and mesculen will continue growing and producing. The cold frame contains more greens for late fall. Maybe I will try moving in some herbs like garlic chives and chocolate mint for winter use. Yes! That would delightful!
On my mind...
The importance of focus on "whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things . . . And the God of peace shall be with you. (Philippians 4:8, 9b)
i. e. The Word of God!
From the garden shed...
Thinking of making a rose hip wreath.
Noticing that...
The sky is brightening to a midnight blue as I write
Pondering these words...
"Especially look to those sins to which your crosses have some reference and respect. Are you crossed in your goods? Think if you did not over-love them and get them unjustly, or if in your children, see if you did not over-love them and cocker them, and so in all things of like kind. In what God smites you, see if you have not in that sinned against Him, and so frame to lament your sins and to seek help against them."
—William Whatel
From the kitchen...
Planning to pick Kiwi this week to make into preserves which I have never done before. They are so good! I don't think it will be green but maybe a rosy colour as the skins change with the sweetening frost.
Around the house...
Must vacuum throughout, prune the scented geraniums I brought inside for the winter and take care of the laundry.
One of my favorite things...
The sun shining through sparkling frost-patterned windows.
From my picture journal
These are Winter Hardy Kiwi which grow on trellised vines in our orchard. Each one is a bite-sized delight! The vines are heavily laden this year.
For more daybooks, do visit http://www.thesimplewoman.blogspot.com
Sunday, October 25, 2009
As Little Children -
Almighty Father,
Conscious of our own weakness, and trusting only in Your grace and power--we beseech You this day to increase and multiply Your mercy upon us.
We are going forth to tread on slippery ground--may You uphold us.
Our march is through a land of which Satan is the prince--may You protect us.
Snares at each turn await our steps--may You guide us.
We look around--and fear. We look up to You--and take courage. By Your grace alone can we stand. If Your grace should fail us--instantly we fall. Our earnest prayer is,
"Hold me up--and I shall be safe!" Psalm 119:117
(Henry Law "Family Prayers")
Mother and Child c 1885 by Francis Coates Jones.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Bountiful Sweet Corn
"Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined
And spreads a common feast for all that live."
- James Thomson
October
- Glenn Wolff and Jerry Dennis
A View over The Ridge from the Back Lawn
- Hal Borland
The Wildflower Meadow in Late October
"There is a harmony
In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been!"
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
View of Gardens in Late October
"It was one of those perfect English autumnal days
which occur more frequently in memory than in life."
- P. D. James
Bittersweet
One of the special joys of autumn here is the rampant vining Bittersweet which twines its way thirty and forty feet into trees and winds its way through the Wild Roses! The birds dine on its fruit along with the bounty of other seeds and berries making a haven for wildlife.
"Ere, in the northern gale,
The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of Autumn, all around our vale,
Have put their glory on."
- William Cullen Bryant, Autumn
What is Beautiful?
But there are also unwholesome people, whose influence is not toward the things that are beautiful and good. Their unwholesomeness may be physical, or it may be in their mental, or or social, or spiritual conditions. A common form is what in general we call morbidness. Whatever its cause, it is the result of over-sensitiveness.
Morbid people are easily disturbed in their feelings. They yield readily to depression of spirits. The smallest cause makes them gloomy. Their imagination plays a mischievous part in creating unhappiness for them. They imagine slights when none were intended or even dreamed of. They are apt to be very exacting toward their friends, continually demanding renewed assertions of faithfulness and constancy, and often expressing fears and doubts, and raising questions. Thus they make friendship hard, even for those who love them best. These morbid people see all life and all the world through tinted glasses—tinted with the unhealthy hue of their own mental condition. They see their neighbor's faults—but not the excellences of his character. They have an eye for the blemishes and the unlovely peculiarities of others, and for the disagreeable things of life. They fret and chafe at the smallest discomforts in their lot, and fail to get happiness and pleasure from their many and great blessings. They are unhappy even in the most favorable circumstances, and discontented even in the kindliest conditions. The trouble is not in outside things—but in themselves. They are like a fever patient who tosses restlessly on his bed and complains of the heat of the room, while all the while the fever is in himself, not in his room. It is the unwholesomeness of his own spirit, that makes the world and all life around them, so full of discomfort for them.
There are many forms and phases of unwholesomeness in life. Some people are unwholesome in their religion. They find no happiness in it. It does not make them joy-givers. They are somber, gloomy Christians. They are lacking in the grace of cheerfulness and in heartiness. They are severe in their judgment of others, sometimes uncharitable and censorious. Their own religion is a burden to them—and they would make religion a burden to all who profess it. It vexes them to see a rejoicing Christian; for they suppose that joyousness is a sign of triviality of heart, and of the lack of a due consciousness of life's gravity and seriousness. They think of religion as always severe, stern, solemn, sad. Some people are unwholesome in their affections, giving way to envy, jealousy, and suspicion, unmistakable symptoms of unhealthiness. Some are unwholesome in their temper, lacking the power of self-control, permitting anger to dominate them and lead them to unseemly outbreaks. Someone says, "Losing the temper takes all the sweet, pure feeling out of life. You may get up in the morning with a clean heart, full of song, and start out as happy as a bird; but the moment you are crossed and give way to your temper—the clean feeling vanishes, and a load as heavy as lead is rolled upon your heart; you go through the rest of the day feeling like a culprit. Anyone who has experienced this feeling knows, too, that it cannot be shaken off—but must be prayed. off." These are suggestions of common phases of unwholesomeness.
A wholesome life is one that is free from these and other unhealthinesses. It is sound and whole. Good physical health ought to make it easier, for one to have also mental and spiritual health. But in fact many a person whose bodily health is excellent—is very unwholesome in disposition; while many a physical invalid possesses a most wholesome spirit! Ofttimes radiant souls—live in diseased and suffering bodies. One mark of wholesomeness in a life is cheerfulness. It is not without its burdens, its cares, its trials; but it has learned the lesson of victoriousness. Nothing breaks its glad-heartedness; nothing chokes its song of joy. The peace of Christ in the heart—is the secret of it. There is an Old Testament promise which says: "You will keep him in perfect peace—whose mind is stayed on you." There is a New Testament word which bids us not to be anxious about anything—but to make every need known to God in prayer; and then promises that the peace of God shall guard our heart and our thoughts in Christ Jesus. He who understands this—has learned one of the inmost secrets of a wholesome life. With the peace of Christ in the heart, even the sorest trials and the bitterest sorrows will not make a life unwholesome; rather the outcome of struggle and suffering will be the promotion of spiritual health. Sorrow rightly endured, cleanses the life of its earthliness and its unhealthiness, and leaves it holier and more beautiful. It is pitiful to see people suffer and not grow better—but grow worse continually. A wholesome use of sorrow—is the putting of its pain, into new energy of loving and living.
Another mark of wholesomeness in a life is generous love. Our affections make us what we are. The things we love, tell whether we are living for earth—or for heaven. We are commanded not to love the world, because the world, and the things in it which are loved and sought after—are all passing away! We are commanded to love the things which are eternal, and then we shall endure forever. Love is all of life. All duty is included in loving God and our neighbor. Loving God is always first. Unless we love God—we really do not love at all. Love that lacks the divine element, and which is not born of and inspired by God's love in the heart—is only earthly, and will not endure—is not worth while. In the truly wholesome life—there is love to God, and then a love for others born of this—which is like God's love for us. This love is forgiving. We are taught to link together, the spirit of forgiveness and the desire for forgiveness. "Forgive us—as we forgive others," we pray.
This love is also generous. It is free from all miserable envying and jealousy. It rejoices in the happiness and the prosperity of others. It sees the best—not the worst, there is—in the lives of other people. Instead of watching for blemishes and faults—it looks for the lovely qualities. It does not find the thorn among the roses—but does find the rose among the thorns. It is charitable, overlooking flaws and mistakes—and seeing ever the possibilities of better things. It is unselfish, forgetting its own interests, in thinking of the interests of others. It is gentle, with a heart of quick and tender sympathy for sorrow or suffering—and a hand skillful and ever ready to give actual help—when actual help is needed. Here is a secret of a wholesome life, which is well worth learning—we should seek for the best and the noblest in everyone we meet—and then strive to call it out.
One who was asked how to cultivate this charm of character replied, "Look at everything through kindly eyes." If we do this—there will be no more envy, no more jealousy, no more censoriousness, no more uncharitableness. Having pure, generous love in our heart—we shall find in every other life something beautiful, at least something that through the kindly nourishing of our love, may grow into beauty. This is a mark of supremest wholesomeness in life. It is thus that Christ's love looks on everyone of us, seeing in us the best possibilities of our being, and calling ever for the best that is in us.
One other mark of wholesomeness in life is activity. Action is necessary to health; inaction produces death. Someone has said, that the stars would rot in their orbits—but for their unresting motion. The water that rests, stagnates. One of the most prolific causes of unwholesomeness of life in all its phases, is inaction. He was a wise physician who prescribed for a morbid, unhappy patient, "Do something for somebody." Most of the common doubts on religious questions which trouble people, would be scattered to the winds if the doubter would go forth and begin to live out the teachings of Christ among suffering, sorrowing, and tempted people. The best thing to do for an unhappy Christian—is to send him out to comfort or help someone in trouble. Religion in the head and heart which finds no expression in the life—soon grows unhealthy. The wholesome life must be always active. Exertion keeps the blood pure, and strengthens all the fibers of the being. There is a blessing, too, in doing, in helping others, in making something beautiful. Work is a means of grace.
Thus a wholesome life is one of abounding moral and spiritual health, that lives according to the Word of God, realizing the divine plan for it. Such a life is a blessing in the world. Its every touch is inspiration, and its every influence is fragrance.."
~WHOLESOME OR UNWHOLESOME LIVING by J. R. Miller
~October Morning Glory, now just a memory
Friday, October 23, 2009
Afterward
There are many things in God's way with his people which, at the time, are dark and obscure—but which the future makes clear and plain. Today's heavy clouds, tomorrow are gone; and under the bright shining of the sun, and the deep blue of the sky—the flowers are sweeter, the grass is greener, and all life is more beautiful. Today's tears, tomorrow are turned to lenses through which eyes, dim no longer, see far into the clear heavens, and behold the kindliness and radiance of God's face.
One reason for the present obscurity of life, is our ignorance, our limited knowledge. We know now only in part; we see only in a mirror darkly. We have learned merely the rudiments, and cannot understand the more advanced and obscure things. A boy enters a school, and the teacher puts into his hand a Greek book—and asks him to read from the page before him; but he cannot make out a word of it; he does not know even the alphabet; it is a page of hieroglyphics to him. But the years roll on; he applies himself with diligence to the study of the Greek language, and by patient degrees masters it. The day of his graduation comes, and the teacher again places in his hand the same page that puzzled and perplexed him on the day of his entrance. It is all plain to him now; he reads it with ease, and readily understands every word; he sees beauty in every line. Every sentence contains some golden truth.
It is a page of the apostle John's Gospel: the words are those that fell from the lips of Christ himself, and are full of love, of wisdom, of heavenly instruction. As he reads them, they thrill his soul, and fill his heart with warmth and joy. Every line is bright now with the hidden fires of God's love. Riper knowledge has cleared away all the mystery, and unlocked the precious treasures.
We are all scholars in God's school. The book of providence is written in a language we do not yet understand; but the passing years, with their experiences, bring riper knowledge, and, as we learn more and more—the painful mysteries vanish. When we stand, at length, at the end of our school-days, the old, confusing pages will be plain and clear to us—just as childhood's earliest lessons, though hard at the time, are afterward to ripe, manly wisdom. Then we shall see that every perplexed line held a golden lesson of wisdom for our hearts, and that the book of providence is but another of God's many testaments of love.
In one of George Macdonald's poems, a little child runs to her father, as he sits absorbed in his mental conflicts, and asks, "Father, what is poetry?" — "One of the most beautiful things that God has ever made," he replies. He opens a book, and shows her some poetry. She looks at it eagerly; but a shadow comes over her face, and she says, "I do not think that is so pretty." He then reads aloud some verses, and the reading pleases her; but still she cannot understand how poetry is beautiful. Her mother is beautiful, the flowers and the stars are beautiful; but poetry is not like any of these, and she cannot see the beauty in it. Then her father tells her she cannot understand until she is older—but that she will then find out for herself, and will love poetry well. But the father's lesson was more for his own puzzled heart, than for his child's. He, too, must wait until he had grown older and wiser, and then he would see the beauty he could not now see in God's strange providence. We are all like little children. God writes in poetry which, no doubt, is very beautiful, as his eyes look upon it, and read its sentences; but we must wait to learn more before we can read the precious truths and golden thoughts which lie in the lines.
In our sorrows and disappointments, godly men come to us, and tell us that the Lord does all things well; that there is some blessing for us in every bitter cup; that the strange answers we get to our prayers are the very best things of God's love, though so disguised. We open the Bible, and we find there the same assurances; but we cannot see the blessing, the good, the love, in the painful and perplexing experiences of our lives. To our dim eyes, all is darkness, and our faith is well-near staggered.
Then our Lord's word comes to us, "What I do, you know not now; but you shall know hereafter. "Afterward" is the key. Possibly in this world, certainly in the great "hereafter" of heaven, we shall see that every providence of God, even the providences that were painful, and that seemed adverse, meant blessing and good. No doubt, we shall see, too, that many of the richest blessings of our lives, as they stand in radiant brightness before Christ's face, have come from the experiences that were most painful and most unwelcome.
Another reason why many of God's ways seem so strange to us, is because we see them only in their incompleteness. We must wait until they are finished, before we can fully understand God's intention in them, or see the beauty that is in his thought. We stand by the sculptor's block when he is busy upon it with mallet and chisel, and to our eye it appears rough, with no lines of beauty; but we see it afterward, when it is unveiled to the world, and it seems almost to breathe, so perfect is the finished statue.
A building is going up. There is now but an unsightly excavation, with piles of stones, timbers, and iron columns lying all about in confusion. Afterward, however, we return, and a fine structure stands before our eyes, noble and majestic. Neither the statue nor the building was beautiful in its incompleteness.
At present we see God's work in us and for us only in the process, not in its finished state. Only when it is complete, we shall understand why it was done in this way or in that. The marble might complain of the strokes, which seem only to cut it away, wasting its substance; but when the statue stands forth, the marvel and admiration of all eyes—it would complain no longer. The vine might cry out under the sharpness of the pruning-knife, as many of its finest branches are removed; but when it hangs laden with purple clusters, its cry of pain would become a song of joy.
"Now, the pruning—sharp, unsparing,
Scattered blossom, bleeding shoot;
Afterward, the plenteous bearing,
Of the Master's pleasant fruit."
Most things look different when viewed from different points and in different lights. Events and experiences do not appear the same when we are in the midst of them—and after we have passed through and beyond them. The after-view, however, is the truest perspective. This is especially so of life's sorrows—as we endure them, they are grievous; but afterward the fruits of peace appear.
In the Canton of Bern, in the Swiss Oberland, a mountain stream rushes in a torrent toward the valley, as if it would carry destruction to the villages below; but, leaping from the sheer precipice of nearly nine hundred feet, it is caught in the clutch of the winds, and sifted down in fine, soft spray, whose benignant showering covers the fields with perpetual green. Just so does sorrow come—as a dashing torrent, threatening to destroy us; but by the breath of God's Spirit—it is changed as it falls, and pours its soft, gentle showers upon our hearts, bedewing our withering graces, and leaving rich blessings upon our whole life.
We should learn to trust God—even when the hour is darkest. The morning will surely come, and in its light, the things that alarm us now will appear in friendly aspect; and in the forms we have dreaded so much—we shall see the gracious face of Jesus as he comes to us in love. The ploughings of our hearts—are but the preparation for fruitfulness. The black clouds that appear so portentous of evil—pass by, leaving only gentle rain, which renews all the life, and changes desert into garden"
~ AFTERWARD by J. R. Miller, 1886
~Lily in late October even after a killing frost
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Mutual Forbearance
' "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love." Ephesians 4:2
"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." Colossians 3:12-14
Among all Christian duties there are few that touch life at more points than the duty of mutual forbearance, and there are few that, in the observance or the breach, have more to do with the happiness or the unhappiness of life. We cannot live our lives solitarily. We are made to be social beings. It is in our fellowship with others that we find our sweetest pleasures and our purest earthly joys. Yet close by these springs of happiness, are other fountains that do not yield sweetness.
There often are briers on the branches from which we gather the most luscious fruits. Were human nature perfect, there could be nothing but most sensitive pleasure in the mutual comminglings of life. But we are all imperfect and full of infirmities. There are qualities in each one of us that are not beautiful—many that are annoying to others. SELF rules in greater or less measure in the best of us. In our busy and excited lives, we are continually liable to jostle against each other. Our individual interests conflict, or seem to conflict. The things we do in the earnest pressing of our own business, and our own plans and efforts, seem at times to interfere with the interests of others. In the heat of emulation and the warmth of self-interest, we are apt to do things which injure others. Then, in our closer personal contact, in society and in business relations, we are constantly liable to give pain or offense. We sometimes speak quickly and give expression to thoughtless words which fall like sparks on other inflammable tempers. Even our nearest and truest friends do things that grieve us. Close commingling of imperfect lives, always has its manifold little injustices, wrongs, oppressions, slights and grievances. Also, we do not always see each other in clear and honest light.
We are prone to.have a bias toward SELF, and often misconstrue the attitudes, words or acts of others. Many of us, too, are given to little petulances and expressions of ill-humor or bad temper, which greatly lessen the probabilities of unbroken fellowship.
Thus it comes about that no Christian grace is likely to be called into play, more frequently than that of mutual forbearance. Without it there can really exist no close and lasting friendly relations in a society composed of imperfect and sinful beings. Even the most tender intimacies and the holiest associations, require the constant exercise of patience.
If we resent every apparent injustice, demand the righting of every little wrong, and insist upon chafing, and uttering our feelings at every infinitesimal grievance, and if all the other parties in the circle claim the same privilege—what miserable beings we shall all be, and how wretched life will become! But there is a more excellent way. The spirit of Christian love inculcated in the New Testament will, if permitted to reign in each heart and life, produce fellowship without a jar or break.
We need to guard first of all against a critical spirit. It is very easy to find fault with people. It is possible, even with ordinary glasses, to see many things in one another that are not what they ought to be. Then some people carry microscopes fine enough to reveal a million animalculae in a drop of water, and with these they can find countless blemishes in the character and conduct even of the most godly dwellers on the earth. There are some who are always watching for slights and grievances. They are suspicious of the motives and intentions of others. They are always imagining offenses, even where none were most remotely intended. This habit is directly at variance with the law of love, which thinks no evil.
We turn to the Pattern. Does Christ look upon us sharply, critically, suspiciously? He sees every infirmity in us—but it is as though he did not see it! His love overlooks it. He throws a veil over our faults. He continues to pour his own love upon us—in spite of all our blemishes and our ill treatment of him.
The law of Christian forbearance requires the same in us. We must not keep our selfish suspicions ever on the watch-tower or at the windows—looking out for neglects, discourtesies, wrongs, or grievances of any kind. We had better be blind, not perceiving at all the apparent rudeness or insult. It is well not to hear all that is said, or, if hear we must, to be as though we heard not. Many bitter quarrels have grown out of an imagined slight, many out of an utter misconception, or perchance from the misrepresentation of some wretched gossip-monger. Had a few moments been given to ascertain the truth, there would never have been. any occasion for ill-feeling. We should also seek to know the motive which prompts the apparent grievance. In many cases the cause of our grievance is utterly unintentional, chargeable to nothing worse than thoughtlessness—possibly meant even for kindness. It is never fair to judge men by every word they speak, or everything they do in the excitement and amid the irritations of busy daily life. Many a gruff man carries a kind heart and a sincere friendship under his coarse manner. The best does not always come to the surface. We should never, therefore, hastily imagine evil intentions in others. Nor should we allow ourselves to be easily persuaded that our companions or friends meant to treat us unkindly.
A disposition to look favorably upon the conduct of our fellow men—is a wonderful absorber of the frictions of life. But there are always cases of real injustice. There are rudenesses and wrongs which we cannot regard as merely imaginary or as misconceptions. They proceed from bad temper or from jealousy or malice—and are very hard to bear. Kindness is repaid with unkindness. We find impatience and petulance in our best friends. There are countless things every day in our associations with others, which tend to vex or irritate us. Here then, is room for the fullest exercise of that divinely beautiful love which covers a multitude of sins in others. We seek to make every possible excuse for the neglect or rudeness or wrong.
Perhaps our friend is carrying some perplexing care or some great burden today. Something may be going wrong in his business or at his home. Or it may be his unstrung nerves that make him so thoughtless and inconsiderate. Or his bad health may be the cause. A large-hearted Christian will always seek to find some mitigation for the apparent wrong.
Another step in the school of forbearance is the lesson of keeping silent under provocation. One person alone can never make a quarrel—it takes two. A helpful counsel to a newly married couple, was that they should never both be angry at the same time—that one should always remain calm and tranquil.
There is a still diviner counsel, which speaks of the soft answer which turns away wrath. If we cannot have the soft answer always ready, we can at least learn not to answer at all. Our Lord met nearly all the insults he received with patient uncomplaining silence. He was like a lamb silent before the shearer. All the venomous insults of the cruel throng, wrung from him no word of resentment, no look of impatience.
As the fragrant perfume but gives forth added sweetness when crushed, so cruelty, wrong and pain only made him be gentler, and the love that always distinguished him be sweeter. It is a majestic power, this power of keeping silent. Great is the conqueror who leads armies to victories. Mighty is the strength that captures a city. But he is greater who can rule his own spirit.
There are men who can command armies—but cannot command themselves. There are men who by their burning words can sway vast multitudes—who cannot keep silence under provocation or wrong. The highest mark of nobility is self-control. It is more kingly, than the regal crown and the purple robe.
There are times when silence is golden, when words mean defeat, and when victory can be gained only by answering not a word. Many of the painful quarrels and much of the bitterness of what we call so often "incompatibility of temper" would never be known—if we would learn to keep silence when others wrong us. We may choke back the angry word that flies to our lips. The insult unanswered, will recoil upon itself and be its own destruction.
There is also a wonderful opportunity here, for the exercise of forgiveness. There are some people whose forgiving spirit always comes to their relief, when they observe the gathering of a storm—and they will have a little story ready, or will suddenly turn the conversation entirely away from the inflammable subject, or will make some bright or playful remark that will cause the whole trouble to blow off in a hearty laugh.
It would not seem impossible for all to learn to bear insults or grievances in some of these ways, either in silence—not sullen, thunder-charged—but loving silence—or by returning the soft answer which will quench the flame of anger, or by that wise tact which drives out the petulant humor, by the expulsive power of a new emotion. There are at least two motives which should be sufficient to lead us to cultivate this grace of forbearance.
One is that no insult can do us harm—unless we allow it to irritate us. If we endure even the harshest words as Jesus endured his wrongs and revilings—they will not leave one trace of injury upon us. They can harm us only when we allow ourselves to become impatient or angry. We can get the victory over them, utterly disarm them of power to do us injury—by holding ourselves superior to them. The feeling of resentment will change to pity—when we remember that not he who is wronged—but he who does the wrong—is the one who suffers. Every injustice or grievance reacts, and leaves a stain and a wound. All the cruelties and persecutions that human hate could inflict, would not leave one trace of real harm upon us—but every feeling of resentment admitted into our hearts, every angry word uttered, will leave a stain. Forbearance thus becomes a perfect shield which protects us from all the cruelties and wrongs of life.
The other motive is drawn from our relation to God. We sin against him continually, and his mercy never fails. His love bears with all our neglect, forgetfulness, ingratitude and disobedience—and never grows impatient with us. We live, only by his forbearance. The wrongs he endures from us are infinite—in comparison with the trivial grievances we must endure from our fellow men. When we think of this, can we grow impatient of the little irritations of daily interaction with others?
We are taught to pray every day, "Forgive us our debts—as we forgive our debtors." How can we pray this petition sincerely—and continue to be exacting, resentful, revengeful, or even to be greatly pained by the unkind treatment of others? God is slow to see our sins, or to write them down against us. He delights in mercy. We are to repeat in our lives as his children, something at least of his patience.
The song of forgiveness and forbearance which he sings into our hearts—we are to echo forth again."
~J. R. Miller
~The Bouquet by Johan Jensen
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Seeds We Are Scattering
A mother's hand is the first to plant seeds there--in the looks of tender love which her eyes dart into the child's soul, in her smiles and caresses and croonings, and her thousand efforts to reach the child's heart and shape its powers; and then in the lessons which she teaches.
All the members of the household soon become sowers also on this field; as the life begins to open, every one is dropping some seed into the mellow soil.
In a little while, hands outside the home begin to scatter seeds in the child's mind and heart. The street, the playground, the school; later, books, papers, and pictures contribute their portion.
As the years advance, the experiences of life--the joys, temptations, tasks, trials, sorrows--all bring their influences. Somewhat in this way, the character of the mature man--is the growth of seeds sown by a thousand hands in the life from infancy.
All our thoughts, words, and acts--are seeds. They have in them a quality which makes them grow where they fall, reproducing themselves. This is true of the good we do.
The mother's teachings enter the mind and heart of her child as mere seeds; but they reappear in the life of the son or daughter, in later years--in strength and beauty, in nobleness of character, and in usefulness of life. Not only is this strange power in the mother's words; her acts, her habits, her tones of voice, the influences that go forth from her life--are also seeds, having in them a vital principle. Where they lodge--they grow.
You can never lose your mother! She may die, and her body may be buried out of your sight, and laid away in God's acre. You will see her face and hear her voice no more; no more will her hand scatter the good seeds of truth and love, upon your life's garden. But you have not lost her! Your mind and heart are full of the seeds which fell from her hand along the years. These you never can lose. No hand of death can root them out of your life. They have grown into the very fibers of your character. They reappear in your habits, your dispositions, your feelings and opinions, your modes of thought, your very phrases and forms of speech! You can never lose your mother; the threads of her life are woven inextricably into your life!
All the noble things that fall from your hands, as you travel along life's paths, are seeds, and will not die. The good things we do, with the true words we speak, with the faithful example we show, with all the influences of our life that are Christlike, are living seeds which we sow in the lives of others. They will not fall into the ground and perish. They will stay where they drop, and you will find them again after many days. They will germinate and grow, and yield a harvest!
Go on doing the little things, no matter how small, only making sure that you breathe love into them. Let them fall where they may, no matter into what heart, no matter how silently, no matter how hopeless may seem the soil into which they drop, no matter how you yourself may appear to be forgotten or overlooked as you do your deeds of kindness, and speak your words of love. These words and deeds and influences of yours are living seeds, and not one of them shall perish!
The same is true, however, of the evil things we do. They, too, have in them the quality of life and reproductiveness. If only our good things were seeds, this truth would have unmingled encouragement for us. But it is startling to remember, that the same law applies to the evil things.
The man who writes a wicked book, or paints an unholy picture, or sings an impure song--sets in motion a procession of unholy influences which will live on forever! He, too, will find his evil words again in the hearts of men, long, long afterwards; or see his unclean picture reproduced on men's lives, or hear his unholy song singing itself over again in the depths of men's being!
The evil that men do--lives after them! "Bury my influence in my grave with me!" said a wicked man, dying with bitter remorse in his soul. But that is impossible. Sometimes men who have been sowing evil, wake up to the consciousness of the harm they have been giving to other lives, and go back over their paths, trying to gather up the seeds of sin which they have cast into human hearts. But the effort is unavailing, as no one can take out of men's minds and hearts--the seeds of evil he has dropped there!
We are not done with life--when we die! We shall meet our acts and words and influences again! "Do not be deceived! God is not mocked. For whatever a man sows--he will also reap!" Galatians 6:7. He shall reap the same that he sows--and he himself shall be the reaper!
There is a law of divine justice, in which God requites to every man according to his deeds. We are not living under a reign of mere chance. But sometimes it seems as if the law of justice did not work universally--that some who do wrong, are not requited; and that some who do good, receive no reward. But this inequality of justice is only apparent. Life does not end at the grave! If it did, we might say that the Lord's ways are not always equal. God's dealings with men, are not closed in this earthly life! The story is continued through eternity!
In this present life--wrong often seems to go unpunished, and virtue unrewarded. But our present lives, are simply unfinished life-stories. There are other chapters which will be written in eternity. When all has been completed, there will be no inequality, no injustice. All virtue will have its full reward--and all sin will receive its due punishment.".
(J. R. Miller, "The SEEDS We Are Scattering"
1896)
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sweet Meditation
I will meditate in Thy precepts.--Psalm 119:15
"There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in His service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them.
Truth is something like the cluster of the vine: if we would have wine from it, we must bruise it; we must press and squeeze it many times. The bruiser's feet must come down joyfully upon the bunches, or else the juice will not flow; and they must well tread the grapes, or else much of the precious liquid will be wasted. So we must, by meditation, tread the clusters of truth, if we would get the wine of consolation therefrom.
Our bodies are not supported by merely taking food into the mouth, but the process which really supplies the muscle, and the nerve, and the sinew, and the bone, is the process of digestion. It is by digestion that the outward food becomes assimilated with the inner life.
Our souls are not nourished merely by listening awhile to this, and then to that, and then to the other part of divine truth. Hearing, reading, marking, and learning, all require inwardly digesting to complete their usefulness, and the inward digesting of the truth lies for the most part in meditating upon it.
Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord, and be this our resolve this morning, "I will meditate in Thy precepts."'
~Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Melting the Heart
For a Christian to defy adversities is to "despise" chastisement.
Instead of hardening himself to endure stoically,
there should be a melting of the heart.
—Arthur W. Pink
Monday, October 19, 2009
Daybook
Outside my window
It is pitch black without a glimmer of light yet.
I am thinking
Max must have missed me as here he is nuzzling and purring. Aren't cats delightful, whimsical creatures, pictures of relaxation and contentment as they snooze in a ray of sunshine?
I am thankful for
Another safe trip and wonderful visit. I savour time together with my dear mother, drinking in the beauty of the sunshine pouring through the golden trees into the sheer white plant-filled curtained windows, casting a glow on sweet memories.
I am wearing
long deep plum nightie, toes still tucked beneath the coverlet while I sip Sweet Maria's new Classic Espresso Blend of the 20 pounds of green coffee beans we just received for home roasting. Luscious, smooth, rich, full-bodied, perfect!
I am remembering
Or trying to remember to ask questions about ancestors before those memories are lost.
I am going
To be very busy this week with autumn chores getting ready for winter. Already there has been snow some places.
I am reading
My precious Bible first and foremost; but my aunt thoughtfully presented me a quilt top and the scrap book Grandma had started in 1930, just three years before she died of septicemia, leaving a newborn, and three little children. My aunt was only eleven then. My father was younger. Anyway, I am thrilled to have this glimpse into the heart of this grandma I never knew through her choice poems, clippings and "pieces" she carefully preserved, the latter being the verses the children learned for special programs at the little country church where she was a Sunday School Teacher and president of the Ladies Aid Society. .
I am hoping
To dig the Cannas, the rest of the potatoes, mow the lawn and hopefully dissipate most of the leaves, freeze some more raspberries, continue cutting back the gardens for winter, etc. Ach! The weeds are still germinating . . . So I will have to deal with those.
On my mind
Thankfulness, thoughts and memories of dear ones who fill my life with joys untold!
From the Garden Shed
One sunny afternoon this week I look forward to taking a walk to the ridge to gather Bittersweet to fill door baskets and twine into a wreath within the sunny, warm confines of this 'home away from home". Perhaps I will gather Chocolate Mint to dry for winter teas, this one a favourite. anytime.
Noticing that
The sky has filled with light!
Pondering these words
"From quiet homes and first beginning,
Out to the undiscovered ends,
There's nothing worth the war of winning,
But laughter
And the love of friends."
~Hilaire Belloc
From the kitchen
Time to make some applesauce to ladle warm into bowls slightly sweetened and laced with a little good cinnamon and topped with dollops of Vanilla Bean ice cream . . . Mmmmm!
Around the house
Will be vacuuming throughout this morning and doing a couple lads of laundry. Need to put storm windows on.
One of my favorite things
"Raindrops on roses"
From my picture journal
This Whiteware bowl delights my eye filled with fruit or even empty!
(For more daybooks, do peruse the host site at http://www.thesimplewoman.blogspot.com
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Calling
In the second epistle to Timothy, first chapter, and ninth verse, are these words--"Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling." Now, here is a touchstone by which we may try our calling. It is "an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace."
This calling forbids all trust in our own doings, and conducts us to Christ alone for salvation, but it afterwards purges us from dead works to serve the living and true God. As He that hath called you is holy, so must you be holy.
If you are living in sin, you are not called, but if you are truly Christ's, you can say, "Nothing pains me so much as sin; I desire to be rid of it; Lord, help me to be holy." Is this the panting of thy heart? Is this the tenor of thy life towards God, and His divine will?
Again, in Philippians, 3:13, 14, we are told of "The high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Is then your calling a high calling? Has it ennobled your heart, and set it upon heavenly things? Has it elevated your hopes, your tastes, your desires? Has it upraised the constant tenor of your life, so that you spend it with God and for God?
Another test we find in Hebrews 3:1--"Partakers of the heavenly calling." Heavenly calling means a call from heaven. If man alone call thee, thou art uncalled. Is thy calling of God? Is it a call to heaven as well as from heaven? Unless thou art a stranger here, and heaven thy home, thou hast not been called with a heavenly calling; for those who have been so called, declare that they look for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God, and they themselves are strangers and pilgrims upon the earth. Is thy calling thus holy, high, heavenly? Then, beloved, thou hast been called of God, for such is the calling wherewith God doth call His people.
~Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Good Fruit
For the wisdom that is from above is first pure,
then peaceable, gentle,
easy to be entreated,
full of mercy and good fruits,
without partiality,
and without hypocrisy.
And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.
James 3:17-18
~photography by Seth Pitzer
Friday, October 16, 2009
Even these pretty geraniums
I am told a late elderly cousin in Canada planted exactly 75 red geraniums every year along her veranda and I was always impressed that my grandparents filled their whitewashed barn windows with them. (Do you suppose they were the secret to Grandpa's contented Jerseys?)
Mom had them too and wintered them in my bedroom windows. As a young teenager, I was supposed to vacuum my room. How I enjoyed removing the spent leaves and breathing in that indescribable aroma. There was often an amber jar of water there filled with slips.
Geraniums like cool weather but the chilly twenty-some degrees was pushing their limits; so now these are settled in the north window of our breakfast room.
We would have succumbed spending night after night unprotected in those frigid temperatures but even the survival of these pretty geraniums can hardly begin to illustrate the wonders and wisdom of Christ.
"I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.--Philippians 3:8
Spiritual knowledge of Christ will be a personal knowledge. I cannot know Jesus through another person's acquaintance with Him. No, I must know Him myself; I must know Him on my own account. It will be an intelligent knowledge--I must know Him, not as the visionary dreams of Him, but as the Word reveals Him. I must know His natures, divine and human. I must know His offices--His attributes--His works--His shame--His glory. I must meditate upon Him until I "comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge." It will be an affectionate knowledge of Him; indeed, if I know Him at all, I must love Him. An ounce of heart knowledge is worth a ton of head learning.
Our knowledge of Him will be a satisfying knowledge. When I know my Saviour, my mind will be full to the brim--I shall feel that I have that which my spirit panted after. "This is that bread whereof if a man eat he shall never hunger." At the same time it will be an exciting knowledge; the more I know of my Beloved, the more I shall want to know. The higher I climb the loftier will be the summits which invite my eager footsteps. I shall want the more as I get the more.
Like the miser's treasure, my gold will make me covet more. To conclude; this knowledge of Christ Jesus will be a most happy one; in fact, so elevating, that sometimes it will completely bear me up above all trials, and doubts, and sorrows; and it will, while I enjoy it, make me something more than "Man that is born of woman, who is of few days, and full of trouble"; for it will fling about me the immortality of the everliving Saviour, and gird me with the golden girdle of His eternal joy. Come, my soul, sit at Jesus's feet and learn of Him all this day."
~Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Like Summer Flowers
The Celsiana Rose is one of the first heirloom roses I chose. It thrives requiring virtually no care from me reminding me to consider the flowers of the field. . . . how God cares for them! Now, of course, winter is fast approaching. One might wonder how anything could survive the bitter cold wind, ice and snow. Makes me think of our adversities and be reminded yet again of the wondrous love and care in our afflictions.
"I know, O Lord, that Your judgments are just, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me." Psalm 119:75
Sometimes the ways of God do seem hard.
Our fondest hopes are crushed;
our fairest joys fade like summer flowers;
the desires of our hearts are withheld from us.
Yet, if we are God's children, we believe that a blessing is hidden in every one of these losses or denials. Right here, we get a glimpse into the mystery of many unanswered prayers. The things we seek, would not work good for us in the end--but evil. The things we plead to have removed--are essential to our highest interests.
Health is supposed to be better than sickness--but there comes a time when God's kindness will be most wisely shown--by denying us health. He never takes pleasure in causing us to suffer; He is touched by our sorrows. Yet He loves us too well, to give us things that would harm us, or to spare us the trial that is needful for our spiritual good. It will be seen in the end, that many of the very richest blessings of all our lives--have come to us through God's denials, His withholdings, or His shattering of our hopes and joys.
We should never forget that the object of all of God's dealings with His children--is to sanctify us, and make us vessels fit for His use. To this high and glorious end, our present pleasure and gratification must ofttimes be sacrificed. This is the true key to all the mysteries of Providence. Anything that hinders entire consecration to Christ, is working us harm; and though it be our tenderest joy, it is best that it be taken away.
Prayer is not always granted, even when the heart clings with holiest affection to its most precious joy. Nothing must hinder our consecration. We should never think first of what will give us earthly joy or comfort--but of what will fit us for doing the Master's service.
Pain is often better for us--than pleasure;
loss is often better for us--than gain;
sorrow is often better for us--than joy;
disaster is often better for us--than deliverance.
Faith should know that God's withholdings from us, when He does not give what we ask--are richer blessings than were He to open to us all His treasure-houses at whose doors we stand and knock with so great vehemence. Our unanswered prayers have just as real and as blessed answer--as those which bring what we seek.
(J.R. Miller <http://gracegems.org/Miller/SERMONS.htm> , "Silent Times")
Rosa Damascena Celsiana:
Celsiana R. damascena var. incarnata-maxima
ORIGINAL BOTANICAL NAME Rosa Damascena Celsiana
ORIGINAL FRENCH NAME Rosier de Cels
CURRENT BOTANTICAL NAME R. damascena var. incarnata-maxima
COMMON NAME Celsiana
OTHER NAMES Belle Couronnée, Cels's Rose, La Coquette, Incarnata Maxima
CLASS Damask
ORIGIN Pre 1750; introduced to France from Holland by Jacques-Martin Cels
FLOWERING Once-flowering; spring or summer
SCENT Strong, damask fragrance
GROWTH Medium shrub, 3-5 feet (0.9-1.5 metres)
AVAILABILITY Still in cultivation
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Grace for Grace
Grace, the busy executive taking a break
Grace
Kate, Grace's Mum
These photographs of a cousin, "D. Grace -------" whose first name we have not learned, has long intrigued me. Grace was a writer and newspaper woman commissioned back in the early part of the last century by the Royal Canadian Railroad to tour Europe encouraging immigration. Her gracious widowed mother, Kate, was to accompany her.While we have the news clipping announcing the commission, we have no evidence that she ever actually went. . We do know she managed a major hotel in Canada after that time where she oversaw hundreds of employees.
Such are the intrigues of genealogy. Perchance she stumbled? Or maybe her mum took sick. We may never know (the two photographs of the young woman are both of Grace while the third is her mother.)
Able to keep you from falling.--Jude 1:24
"In some sense the path to heaven is very safe, but in other respects there is no road so dangerous. It is beset with difficulties. One false step (and how easy it is to take that if grace be absent), and down we go. What a slippery path is that which some of us have to tread! How many times have we to exclaim with the Psalmist, "My feet were almost gone, my steps had well nigh slipped."
If we were strong, sure-footed mountaineers, this would not matter so much; but in ourselves, how weak we are! In the best roads we soon falter, in the smoothest paths we quickly stumble. These feeble knees of ours can scarcely support our tottering weight. A straw may throw us, and a pebble can wound us; we are mere children tremblingly taking our first steps in the walk of faith, our heavenly Father holds us by the arms or we should soon be down.
Oh, if we are kept from falling, how must we bless the patient power which watches over us day by day! Think, how prone we are to sin, how apt to choose danger, how strong our tendency to cast ourselves down, and these reflections will make us sing more sweetly than we have ever done, "Glory be to Him, who is able to keep us from falling."
We have many foes who try to push us down. The road is rough and we are weak, but in addition to this, enemies lurk in ambush, who rush out when we least expect them, and labour to trip us up, or hurl us down the nearest precipice.
Only an Almighty arm can preserve us from these unseen foes, who are seeking to destroy us. Such an arm is engaged for our defence. He is faithful that hath promised, and He is able to keep us from falling, so that with a deep sense of our utter weakness, we may cherish a firm belief in our perfect safety, and say, with joyful confidence,
"Against me earth and hell combine,
But on my side is power divine;
Jesus is all, and He is mine!"
Charles Haddon Spurgeon
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Forsaken
"Forsaken" is a dreary word. It sounds like a knell. It is the record of sharpest sorrows and the prophecy of direst ills. An abyss of misery yawns in that word forsaken.
Forsaken by one who pledges his honor!
Forsaken by a friend so long tried and trusted! Forsaken by a dear relative!
Forsaken by father and mother!
Forsaken by all!
This is woe indeed, and yet it may be patiently born if the Lord will take us up.
But what must it be to feel forsaken of God? Think of that bitterest of cries, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Have we ever in any degree tasted the wormwood and the gall of "forsaken" in that sense? If so, let us beseech our Lord to save us from any repetition of so unspeakable a sorrow. Oh, that such darkness may never return! Men in malice said of a saint, "God hath forsaken him; persecute and take him." But it was always false. The Lord's loving favor shall compel our cruel foes to eat their own words or, at least, to hold their tongues.
The reverse of all this is that superlative word Hephzibah "the Lord delighteth in thee." This turns weeping into dancing. Let those who dreamed that they were forsaken hear the Lord say, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."
Devotional: Never Alone by C. H. Spurgeon.
~Photograph of wild, but not forsaken, asters taken on walk with a cell phone. :-)
Monday, October 12, 2009
Daybook
Outside my window
It is still dark and chilly, not yet day but there is a glimmer of light brightening the grey sky. I hear no birds but cars on the all too close .howbeit distant highway.
I am thinking about
Handwork projects to relax and visit so have started a pretty ivory Cashmerino scarf which I am making on a Board Loom. It is, indeed, relaxing and the pattern working nicely with this nubby soft yarn. (Took three tries before I found a pattern that worked!)
I am thankful for
A full freezer and pantry cupboard filled with lots of staples.
I am wearing
A pale rose sleeveless cotton knit gown, feet still bare, tucked beneath a coverlet as I sip the mug of Sumatran Coffee my beloved just brought me.
I am remembering
To take my grocery list with me when I shop! Made a list of everything I might need on the Memo Pad of my cell phone. Then when I make my list, I just put an asterisk by the needed items. The activity seems to etch the list indelibly in my mind but I can quickly check the memo before I check-out. Nifty! And efficient!
I am going
To cut back the gardens and clean out the beds for the winter, working on this some daily.
I am reading
And studying Ezekiel 36, the Puritan writers, Spurgeon, the new Herb Companion, and a book of patterns of small looms. Usually catch up on the news on my BlackBerry.
I am hoping
To visit my mom for a few days soon.
On my mind
The unrest and turmoil in the world reminds me of the importance of obedience to Scripture. Do I know and understand?
From the garden shed
Hope to find time to make some Hydrangea wreaths this week. I use coat hangers quite successfully for the base making the cost negligible, winding and overlapping the stems using florist wire. Once complete, they are quite malleable until dry so easy to shape and before adding a pretty sheer organdy wire-edged ribbon. The hanger hook serves quite nicely too by tightening. Into a loop.
Noticing that
The leaves are pretty but not spectacularly coloured this year, falling golden. like stars on the grass.
Pondering these words
I will meditate in Thy precepts.--Psalm 119:15
From the kitchen
Gathered the rest of the eggplant, tomatoes and peppers so must use or freeze them. The still-budding peppers and chard are covered with the muslin that I was looking for to dye for a rag rug. It was folded neatly and stowed away for these times. I forgot!
Around the house
Killing frosts are predicted for this week right on schedule so I am busy trimming geraniums and finding winter homes in cool sunny windows
One of my favorite things
The surprises each day as I walk through the gardens, every bloom a gift from my Divine Beloved thrilling me to my toes!
From my picture journal
Trying to remember to tuck my BlackBerry in my pocket when perusing the gardens to catch memories such as this October-blooming Foxglove just a few inches high! From the half dozen I planted, hundreds have emerged, pretty light green rosettes in the front garden. I am excited! How pretty that will be next summer!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Ouch!
Many have no better work--than killing time. Beware of 'the evil of doing nothing'. Idleness is the key of beggary--and the mother of all evil. It is through 'the door of sluggishness', that evil enters the heart!
Lazy people like the caterpillars on the cabbage, eating up the good things; or like the butterflies, showing themselves off but making no honey!
Every man ought to have patience and pity for poverty; but for laziness--a long whip would be better!
Everything in the world is of some use; but it would puzzle a philosopher, to tell the good of idleness! There is something to be said for moles, and rats and weasels--they are a pretty sight when nailed up on our old barn; but as for the sluggard--the only use for him is in the grave--to help to make the churchyard fat.
Laziness is bad--and altogether bad! Sift a sluggard grain by grain--and you will find him to be all chaff!
"As vinegar to the teeth, and as smoke to the eyes," so is the sluggard to every man who is spending his sweat to earn an honest living, while these lazy fellows let the grass grow up to their ankles, and stand cluttering the ground!
In idle men's imaginations, the devil hides away unseen, like the old serpent that he is. A man who wastes his time and his strength in sloth--offers himself to be a target for the devil, who is a wonderfully good rifleman, and will fill the idler with his shots! In other words, idle men tempt the devil to tempt them! He who plays when he should work--has an evil spirit for his playmate! A sluggard is fine 'raw material' for the devil--he can make anything he likes out of him! If the devil catches a man idling--he will set him to work, find him tools, and before long pay him wages!
Sure enough, our children have our evil nature in them, for you can see sloth growing in them like weeds in a garden! My advice to my boys has been, "Get out of the sluggard's way, or you may catch his disease--and never get rid of it!" I am always afraid of their learning the ways of the idle--and am very watchful to nip anything of the sort in the bud; for you know, that it is best to kill the lion, while it is still a cub! Bring them up to be 'bees', and they will not become 'drones'!
As to having lazy employees--I would prefer to drive a 'team of snails', or go out rabbit hunting with a dead hound! Why, you would sooner get blood out of a gatepost, or juice out of a rock--than work out of some of them! I wonder sometimes, that some of our employers keep so many cats which catch no mice! I would as soon throw my money in the fire--as pay some people for pretending to work.
Lazy people never put a single potato into the nation's pot--but they take a good many out! They eat all the bread and cheese--but never earn a bite of it! Yet Scripture gives us this rule, "If a man will not work--he shall not eat." 2 Thessalonians 3:10
Spurgeon <http://gracegems.org/21/Charles_Spurgeon_sermons.htm> , "Plain Advice for Plain People")
the spinning wheel by g. b. torriglia.

