Tag: Christianity

Good Gifts

The sugar snaps are up, the grass is green, and all the fallen limbs have been removed. Chilly mornings lead to warm afternoons, and Spring is in the air. While the changing weather and blooming trees wreak havoc on my sinuses and force me to keep tissues handy, I love this time of year.

Spring is as if God is rewarding me for surviving freezing rains and arctic blasts and the barren landscape. I did not give up hope. I planted seeds in anticipation of warmer weather. The time for sleeping is over – wake little bunny! (One of my granddaughter’s favorite songs.)

Now new plants dot my yard and my garden like Easter eggs waiting to be discovered. Will they grow? What will they look like? How will they taste? Like Jesus’ followers in this passion week, I know change is coming. Something marvelous is about to happen, but it may not be what I thought it would be. It may not even look all that marvelous at first. I have never planted beets or rhubarb before. I may not even recognize the leaves when they break through the ground and begin to grow.

There are times the unknown scares me. I will research what rhubarb and beet plants look like, but that is different from seeing them. Jesus had told his disciples repeatedly what awaited him in Jerusalem, but they still found themselves unprepared and afraid. Not until they saw His risen person could they rejoice in the amazing gift God had given them, given us. But this week, Holy Week, we watch in fear and hope for what God is doing in our midst.

My garden is a pale comparison, a hazy glimpse into God’s love of surprising us with wonderful gifts. Each seed, each root is like an easter egg waiting to be found and opened, hiding its secret gift for me to find.

If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Matthew 7:11.

I know these emerging plants are good gifts given by God. Their healthy green leaves face the sun; their tendrils reach for the trellises set around them. They seem joyful, eager to get on with growing taller and bearing fruit. They are growing in fluctuating temperatures and windy days. They are growing in the sure knowledge that they are becoming what God intended them to be – bearers of delicious sugar snaps.

Can I say the same?

Holy Week brings all our emotions into play. Praise and adoration, fear and uncertainty, sorrow and despair, disbelief and amazement, joy and hope. A whirlwind climaxing in the resurrection of Jesus proving Him to be the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Christ. What an amazing gift hidden for those of us who believe, our Savior, the most wonderful gift of all.

These sugar snaps, the greening grass, the warmer temperatures, these are all gifts from a generous and loving God. The encouragement I take from these little plants is a gift as well, as is the anticipation of discovering new plants and new recipes. I suspect He has good gifts in store for you as well. They may be hidden in plastic eggs, scattered across the landscape for us to find. We may not know the gift until we open the egg, plant the seed, try the new thing. We may not know the gift until we have passed through fear, uncertainty, sorrow, or despair. But God gives us good gifts. Keep looking.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Gray and Chilly

In the warm weather that brightened our spirits last week, my sugar snaps pushed through the soil and rejoiced with me. But Sunday, I covered them with the protective gauze that keeps them warm and lets in sunlight. A forty degree drop in temperatures would challenge these young plants. I would do what I could to lessen the shock.

This is what March is all about in Tennessee. 75 degrees one day, 35 degrees the next. I would like to say that such weather changes don’t affect me. Unlike my sugar snaps, I live in a climate-controlled space with many resources to protect me from the wintery weather. But the truth is this gray and chilly day has me feeling, well, gray and chilly.

Intellectually I know that such feelings can only affect me if I let them. I am not a sugar snap plant blown by the wind and left to the elements. In my core, I am a child of God, beloved and adopted, chosen to live in a royal priesthood. But today, I am a whiney old widow whose joints hurt.

Usually, when I am feeling gray like this, I wander outside and listen to the creek and the birds. I feel the wind and the sun on my face and stick my hands in the dark, wet soil. But it’s 35 degrees outside and I want to stay inside.

Because I lost three trees to the ice storm in January, I decided to plant two new ones. Not hackberries like the ones I lost, but fig trees. I have a dwarf fig in my garden, but I am planting the not-dwarf kind of fig tree in my yard. They arrived Saturday when it was warm. The temptation was to plant them right away, but I am observing Saturday sabbath for Lent, so I let them sit inside.

Today, I am grateful that these young plants are not exposed to the chilly weather yet. I sense a little providence in their protection. And today, their healthy green leaves and promises of future beauty, shade, and fruit are lifting my spirits.

Even when it is gray and chilly, even when my emotions urge me to curl up on the couch, a young plant reminds me of what opportunities lie ahead – opportunities for warmth, for growth, for bearing fruit. No matter my mood, God gives me the opportunity to care for others, to exhibit joy and love, and to bear fruit for His Kingdom.

It may not look like much right now, but these sugar snaps will grow tall and these small fig plants will become trees. The chill will pass; the sun will burst through the clouds and warm the ground. A little providence and faith will see me through the gray days into His light.

And not only that but we can also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5.

Warmer days are ahead.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Oops!

The garlic is up! I have already cut the scapes once, but I will cut them a few more times before I let them grow unbothered.

The thick green leaves encourage me that there are hearty bulbs below the surface. This especially encourages me because my garlic crop was a failure last year. Not one sprouted. I didn’t want to write about it because who wants to broadcast their failure? Besides, I wasn’t sure what the problem was.

Was there too much water? Had the cardboard poisoned the soil? Had some underground critter eaten them? The options for blame were plentiful.

My previous year’s crop had been successful. When last year’s bulbs came in, I planted them just as I remembered planting them the year before, being careful to always plant the bulbs point down as I remembered doing it the year before. Spacing them out, covering them with dirt, and watering frugally.

That’s the problem with memory. This year, I read the instructions again and watched the video on garlic planting. Perhaps I had done something wrong. Indeed. Garlic bulbs are always to be planted point up. And I had so carefully planted them point down. Poor bulbs! Breaking from their shells to find only darkness and dirt instead of the sunlight they craved.

Do not be wise in your own eyes: fear the Lord and turn away from evil. Proverbs 3:7.

Less than a minute looking at the video with all the bulbs point up and I saw the error in my ways. I had trusted in myself, been wise in my own eyes. I wonder where else this is happening.

How often am I confident that I know what to do, and how often is that in error? Sometimes the results are not as clear cut as no garlic harvest. Like the Pharisees and Sadducees and scribes, I love to study scripture and contemplate theology. But their confidence in their own wisdom made them unable to imagine that God was doing something wonderful in their midst. Jesus broke the Sabbath laws. Jesus touched lepers, ate with sinners, talked to Samaritans. They knew this was wrong.

Is it possible that in my self confidence I have “misremembered” what the scriptures teach? Secure in my understanding, have I judged as right something that is wrong, or judged as wrong something God is using to further His kingdom? Have I been confident in planting my bulbs upside down and then been surprised they didn’t grow?

There is hope. I returned to the basic instructions, those instructions I thought I knew but didn’t. I looked at the picture and could see where I was wrong. Prayer, Spirit-led Bible study, conversations with those whose gardens are full of fruit, all of these can enlighten me to the error of my thinking. And I need to be humble enough to admit I was wrong, brave enough to admit my failure.

Because when the life I am living isn’t producing a harvest of the Spirit’s fruit, I need to examine what the problem is. It may be as simple as pointing the bulbs in the right direction – toward the sun, toward the Son.

Jesus said to them (the Sadducees), “Is this not the reason you are wrong, that you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God?” Mark 12:24

Love in Christ, Betsy

Peace

The beach is empty in the chill morning air. Only the bravest, bundled in jackets and scarves, take their dogs on long walks beside the lapping water. Snowbirds gather here this time of year. The bright sun breaks through the wind and warms my soul if not my feet.

I love the beach in winter. I can hear the waves and look out to sea, mesmerized by the rhythmic sound. In the summer, I would feel the pull of swimsuits and sunscreen and sandcastles, dragging my uncooperative beach chairs to the sand and staking out my spot. But this morning, I sit in my flannel nightgown and cradle my coffee as I soak up God’s beauty through large windows.

O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both small and great. Psalm 104:24-25.

This is what I want to bring back with me from my beach trip. Not a perfect shell or fresh caught shrimp. Not even the taste of a harvested-that-day oyster from the newly opened Apalachicola Bay. I want to bring back this peace, this assurance that God is good, that His creation is good, even the parts I don’t like or understand. I want to carry home my separation from the tv and the clock, from talking heads and fear mongers.

Already as the sun climbs higher in the sky, the sounds of hammering and buzz saws from the house being built nearby drown out the sound of the waves. My very short to-do list pulls me from the view of the horizon to more mundane sights. Perhaps that is the way with peaceful communion. We can’t stay in it to the exclusion of the world around us. But we are called to return to it as often as we can.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. Mark 1:35.

Perhaps I can take a little of this trip home with me. Perhaps, I don’t need a trip to the beach to sense the closeness of God. I know I sense Him in my garden when I smell the fresh turned dirt or taste a crisp sugar snap. I know I sense his presence in waterfalls on the lake, in the call of the mourning doves, and the rustle of the wind in the trees. God is, after all, everywhere at all times and with us to the end of the age. I don’t need to go to Him. He is already here with me, with you.

The point, then, is to take the time to sit quietly in His presence. To quiet our fears and our constant churning, to turn off our phones and watches so that we can soak up the presence of God.

Can I be still for ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? At the beach, I can sit and watch the waves for an hour. On the lake, I can soak up the sunshine for an hour. In the garden, I can tend to my plants and enjoy their growth. In the woods, I can take deep breaths and admire the beauty of trees. I can immerse myself in His Word, or in music that elevates my spirit. There are so many ways to reconnect with God, to bolster the Holy Spirit within me, to give Him time to grow and bear fruit in my life.

The fruit of peace. Like the peace of watching the sun sparkle on the water, of hearing the waves lap against the shore, of hearing the birds all to each other, of watching a plant grow.

O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! Psalm 8:1.

Love in Christ, Betsy

What Will You Choose?

I love the God who created tomatoes and figs and oceans and sunrises and trees draped with Spanish moss.

It is harder for me to love the God that created that serpent and that forbidden fruit. But if He created everything and nothing came into being without him (John 1:3), then He also created cancer and leprosy and polio and covid and venomous sea serpents and poisonous mushrooms.

Why?

Perhaps to give us the opportunity to choose good, to choose to obey His voice, not be forced to do so by a lack of options.

Maybe God wants us to learn and discover what is evil, what we can do to avoid it, and how to battle its consequences. Maybe He wants us to learn about microbes and germs and discover cures and preventions. It starts with recognizing and understanding the things around us.

The world, the universe, is a treasure trove of gifts yet undiscovered. God has hidden them so that we may sense the thrill of discovery when we find them. Plants that thrive in austere conditions, planets that explode millions of miles away, germs that weasel their way into our dna strands. Research into those ‘challenging’ things that God has created has taught us about the universe – weather, germs, poisons, mental disorders. We have the choice to let harmful things have their way with us or make an effort to overcome them.

I always have the choice to act in my own self-interest or to act in love, putting other’s interests ahead of my own. God gave us this option by creating a world full of decisions to be made. He wants us to make the wiser choice. He even tells us what it is.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourself. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4.

Furthermore, God does not leave us to face these choices on our own. He’s here with us. He gave us instructions and advice, cautionary tales, and wise advisors. He sent His son to walk among us and show us how. He sent His spirit to live within us and help us choose rightly.

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. John 16:13.

God created a beautiful, awesome, amazing world, but it is also full of perils, some hidden, some obvious. He calls us to be wise as serpents and gentle as doves (Matthew 10:16) and he calls us above all else to love each other (John 15:12 and 1 John 4:7-8).

God loves us so much that He gives us the option to choose rebellion, to put ourselves before Him and others. We can ignore His guidance. We can choose to walk in darkness and fulfill our own selfish desires. We can choose to sit idle when danger appears. Or we can choose to act in love. We can choose to accept that God created things we do not like, things that harm us and others, and people who challenge and threaten us. We can choose to see these as opportunities for growth. We can look for cures and preventions. We can choose to act in love toward those who challenge us.

There is so much we have yet to discover – about this world, about each other, even about ourselves. It starts with learning about the God created all of it, about His love for us. He calls us to share this love with His world, not just the parts we like, but, in wisdom, with the parts we fear.

We have the choice. Let’s choose love today.

Love in Christ, Betsy