A gift from my daughter, a piece of barnwood with the word “dwell” on it, hangs proudly on the cabin wall. It’s a lovely word to ponder. “Dwell” has multiple meanings in the English language. The Greek verb, eskēnōsen, used in John 1:14 means “to make His dwelling among; tabernacle; dwell in a tent.” I love how the usage creates a vivid description for Jesus coming to live among us.
The longing for a place we can call home began after God created the world and called it very good. He fashioned a man and a woman and placed them in a garden named Eden. The dynamics of their world changed dramatically as a result of the choices they made. They lost their dwelling place, and rootlessness entered creation. They and their ancestors would forever struggle to find their place in a broken world.
How would you describe God? When Paul reasoned with the elite philosophers in Athens, he used these words as he described the one true God. …He Himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else. From one man, He made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and He determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their lands (Acts 17:25-26).
Good news: I awakened at 4:00am on a Saturday morning. Since I had debated making a three-hour drive to see my mother in assisted living, I decided to hit the road.
Balak, son of Zippor, king of Moab, feared the Israelites after learning what they had done to other kingdoms as they made their way through the land. He summoned Balaam, a known diviner (similar to a sorcerer), to put a curse on these people.
Job uttered these words, “I know my redeemer lives.” Job, of all people – deathly ill, loss of children, misunderstood by friends. Those words did not come at the end of his struggles -- he spoke them in the midst of them. What an encouraging testimony!
Although God forbids having or worshipping idols of any kind, he did instruct the Israelites to put tassels on the corners of their garments to remind them of the importance of his commands. The tassels also served as an admonition to obey those same commands.
Who do we run to when a problem arises? Do we go to a trusted friend, our spouse or other family member, a neighbor? Often times when seeking answers, we do not exactly know where to turn.
All she ever wanted was a horse. Our young daughter, Bre, rode carousel horses and played with toy horses until she was old enough to ride horses at summer camp each year through high school. She collected horse picture books, watched horse movies, and had horse-themed birthday parties, but she still wanted and frequently asked for a real horse.
I still remember when Ste was about 2 weeks old, and his dad was eager to show him off to the pharmacology lab where he was a graduate research student. He wanted to share his joy and excitement over his infant son with faculty and students. I dressed him in a soft green Onesie. My heart burst with love as they left. Proud, proud Daddy.
Sweat dripped down my back and forehead in the oppressive summer evening heat. I was still able to concentrate on my ten-year old granddaughter Mack playing softball. This was her first year, but she was all in, mentally and physically. When she pitched, she focused on all the game situations. She knew the pitching count and how many outs there were each inning.
Dad worked for the government his entire career. Monday through Friday for over twenty-five years he left home at 7:45 a.m. and returned home at 5:15 p.m. Mom packed him a sack lunch each day for his hour-long break.
Peace. Love. “Jesus freaks.” If you were around in the late 60s and early 70s, you are familiar with these words. The Jesus Movement, considered the fourth great awakening in the United States, ignited in California during this time, and exploded across the country, including Boulder, Colorado, where I lived until my mid-twenties. This movement was characterized by youthful counter-cultural transients. On the opposite side of the spectrum was conservative Billy Graham and his crusades. My family avoided and resisted both. We worshipped the Rocky Mountains.
Have you ever played the game of Risk? The game can be described in two steps. Step one: build up your army and develop a stronghold. Step two: move forward and conquer, keeping in mind that moving forward involves “risks.”
On December 26, 2015, an EF-4 tornado hit Garland and Rowlett, TX. Several died. Many homes and businesses were destroyed.
I was in Garland almost two months later and drove by an astonishing site I will never forget. It was a massive heap of rubble collected from the path of the tornado. Several other piles just like that one existed. Those piles were composed of what had once been the treasured possessions of many people. Those possessions were snatched away in a moment!
Are there things in your past you wish could be undone? Many of us have something that was done by another person that we would love to erase from our lives. If we could change that one act, perhaps the hurt, the scarring, the shame would vanish.
Albert György created a statue to portray his intense grief after the death of his wife. The statue, called Melancholy, is located in Geneva, Switzerland. If you haven’t seen it, look it up. It’s been said the statue’s bowed head, huge hole in the torso, and missing pieces of flesh and muscle express as nothing else the feeling of deep, consuming grief.
But, Lord, when will I sleep?
These were my words to God after being asked to take a position in a Bible study that seemed overwhelming and impossible. Our youngest daughter was four months old, and sleep was already something I might or might not have the privilege of enjoying. Was this God’s plan? I prayed and believed it was.
Social media. We have a love-hate relationship. While I do see it’s merit for connecting with friends and sharing God’s Truth, there are other aspects that irritate me. This is probably how most people feel – happy to stay current with friendships, tired of what they consider bragging.
When my daughters were babies, I began writing in a journal for each one of them. To this day, every few months I record funny stories, family memories and some of the things I find most wonderful about them. I want them to have access to my words long after I’m gone. Also, I never want them to doubt how much I love them and have delighted in them throughout their lives. I hope the little stories I’ve written are tucked away as a part of their history.
