Three Gardens

     God created the heavens, the earth, all life and then mankind.
     Next, He put man into a garden:  "The Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden, and there He put the man whom He had formed. And out of the ground the Lord God made every tree grow that is pleasant to the sight and good for food. The tree of life was also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  Now a river went out of Eden to water the garden, and from there it parted and became four riverheads...Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, 'Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.'” (Gen. 3:8-9, 15-17)

     Why in a garden?   Why not in a house?  Why not in a forest?  Why not at the seashore?  Why would God put Adam in a garden? 

     
 I have several sisters in the Lord who have beautiful gardens.  They lovingly plant and tend their gardens with dedication, knowing they will have beautiful strawberries, melons, lettuce, cucumbers and all sorts of wonderful things to harvest as the season rolls along.  They have to know what to plant when, and they have to keep an eye on what is growing.  They have to water the plants just so, and know how much fertilizer to apply.  They have to deal with deer who want to sample their wares.  They face an endless parade of bugs.
    When I visit their gardens, they have such joy on their faces!  They pull aside large leaves and show me baby fruits and vegetables.  They eagerly talk about what is coming to fruition and when, and what lies ahead.  It's almost like sneaking into a nursery to spy on a sleeping newborn baby.  

 

      
God put Adam in a garden to teach him the fruits (pun intended) of obedience.  The garden was an embodiment of God's ordered universe:  everything would grow and produce seed after its own kind.  Adam would tend the garden but it was God Who provided everything that Adam needed:  water from the rivers to water it; the seasons arriving each year with wind, humidity and sun to help it grow; the soil from which Adam himself sprang and from which each seedling would spring as well; and Adam's two strong hands to till the soil.  Every aspect of the process was provided for and when Adam proudly picked the bounty and ate, he could truly thank God for His care over His creation.   
     God asked one thing of Adam:  "tend and keep it."  Adam needed to be dedicated and committed to the garden.  God gave him a task and He knew it would mature Adam's character.   Our character comes when we must work for what we have--we value it more.  If we are given everything, with little to no work on our part, we start acting rather entitled to what we think is rightfully ours.  
     God wanted a mature man walking in His garden, so He gave Adam responsibility.  He loved Adam enough to provide all he needed; He wanted Adam to serve Him out of love and gratitude and demonstrate that by tending the garden.
     But we know what happened.  Adam's disobedience caused him and Eve to be driven out of the garden.  The garden was now off-limits to the sons and daughters of Adam, due to sin.

     
But wait...let's walk into another garden.  We see a second Adam:  the Son of God, Jesus Christ. God had given Jesus everything he needed:  the power to conduct a ministry that would impact not only his generation but future ones as well.  The Father expresses His pleasure in His Son, who left the courts of heaven to walk in the streets of an exiled humanity:  "This is My Beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased."
     God gave Jesus a task: 

     "Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!" (Phil. 2:6-8)

      The "bounty" given to the Son by the Father was: 

     "Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." (Phil. 2:9-10)

     The Father gave the Son the strength to endure the cross.  The Father loved us so much He was willing to pour all His wrath upon His Son's shoulders, even to the point where Jesus cried out, "Why have You forsaken me?"  

     

 The Father wanted a redeemed humanity walking in His garden--mature and responsible sons and daughters of Adam, cleansed from sin and obedient to their God. The only way He was able to achieve that was through His Son's death: "All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation." (2 Cor. 5:19-20). 

     Remember how God walked with Adam and Eve in the first garden?  Today, He is now walking with those He has redeemed, dwelling in their hearts and empowering them through the Holy Spirit.

     But a Day is coming when He will once again walk with His children, on a restored planet, in a new garden. 
     Now, let us travel to this last garden:  "Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever." (Rev. 22:1-5)    

     

The very tree that God feared would be eaten by a disobedient Adam and Eve, the Tree of Life, is now accessible.  Its leaves heal and its fruit of life is abundant.  

     In order for us to return to the garden, and walk with our Father, His Son had to walk in the Garden of Gethsemane.       

     Let us never forget what our restoration cost Jesus and let us till the soil with diligence and obedience, until that Day!

      

If He Forgives, Why Can't I Forget?

     If God puts my sins as far as the east is from the west, then why can't I?
     If He forgives my sin, then why can't I?
     If He doesn't remember my sin, then why do I?
     All excellent questions.  I have been pondering this question.  It is a mixed blessing to be sure:  God sets me free of my sin with His love and forgiveness, yet I can remember every detail and shame floods my soul.  I would love to not remember.
     Satan uses my rap sheet of sin to remind me of how bad I have been/still am.  He parades all the sickening details of what I have done and delights in tormenting me in how low I stooped in my pursuit of sin.  He reminds me of the tears I have caused to flow and the hurt I have needlessly bestowed on others.  I cringed when he starts the movie called "This is Your Life."
     On the other hand, God doesn't even remember what I have done.  My slate with Him is completely clean: "'Come now, and let us reason together,' saith the Lord: 'though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.'" (Isaiah 1:18)
     Perfect cleansing leads to perfect righteousness in His eyes: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9)
     He wants to restore fellowship with us so much that He sent His only Son to die for us.  Sin is the wall and Jesus tore down that wall.  We need to confess--that is, acknowledge what we have done.  He already knows, but He needs to hear from us:  "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." (Psalm 51:17)
     He hates our sin, yes, but He loves us more: "But you have burdened me with your sins; you have wearied me with your iniquities.  I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins." (Isaiah 43:24-5)
     Wow.  We stand in the light of His forgiveness and love, and yet...why can't we forget?  Why must the memories torment us?  Think a minute about the words of Joseph, when after his brothers sold him into slavery, he rose in the court of Pharaoh and was able to save his family from famine: "As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today." (Gen. 50:20) 
     Listen to the words of Paul, who like Joseph, was misunderstood, cast into prison and reviled: "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." (Rom. 8:28)
     So, if we remember our sins, what is the good God tries to bring forth?  What is the beauty He brings from the ashes?  How does the garment of praise feel around our bruised spirit?  How can there possibly be joy for mourning?
     Remembering our sins:

Keeps us humble about ourselves:  It is hard to be self-righteousness when we know we have fallen prey to the same sins.  This was one of the tragedies of the Pharisees:  they were so unaware of their sins--past, present and future--that they had no humility.  They were the very opposite:  arrogant and confident in their own ability to be good, they were, in Jesus' words, "white-washed tombs filled with dead man's bones."

Keeps us from judging others: “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."  (Matt. 7:1-2)  If we remember our failures, our faults, then we remember our need for mercy and how grateful we are for it.  We like to give out judgement but receive mercy.  Jesus is calling us to give out mercy and not forget that we have stood there ourselves in the shoes of sin.  If we do judge, then let the standard we use be exactly the same one we use for others. 

Keeps us dependent on Him:  Our sins remind us that we are weak, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." (2 Cor. 12:9)  It's hard to deceive ourselves about how wonderfully strong and sufficient we are when we are reminded of our sins.  At that moment, we are reminded of our need for Him, in every day and in every way. 

     Notice how not forgetting our sins affects ourselves, each others and how we relate to God.  

     Now it is true that Satan will use our sins to condemn us, leading us to be paralyzed with shame.  But, we must use the sword of the Spirit:  His Word.  Jesus rebuked Satan with the Word of God.  Why do we think we can respond any differently?  

     Next time you feel harassed, speak His word against your accuser and stand on the fact that "You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world." (1 John 4:4) 

     We stand on His forgiveness and grace.  As someone once said, "When Satan reminds you of your past, remind him of his future."     

     We walk in Him with confidence:  "Be still and know that I am God." (Ps. 46:10)

As someone once said, "When Satan reminds you of your past, remind him of his future."

    

 

You've Not Responded to My Invitation...Why?

You are Cordially Invited to Attend a Banquet
Given in Your Honor by Our Host,
the Son of God,
Jesus Christ
Date: As Soon as You Reply in Prayer
Time: Now is the Day of Salvation
Place:
First Course:
In Your Heart
Second Course:
The Marriage Supper of the Lamb in Heaven
"The Spirit and the bride say, 'Come!'
And let the one who hears say, 'Come!'
Let the one who is thirsty come;
& let the one who wishes,
take the free gift of the water of life.

Please Bring Your Heart, Soul, Strength & Mind
RSVP With Your Presence

  
You have received this invitation. Why haven't you responded? I, Jesus, have made you this offer and yet I haven't seen you at the Table. I have been looking for you. Perhaps we talk, or I see it in your eyes that you would like to sit down with Me, but you hold back, time and time again.

You come to church with a sadness in your eyes, and a inescapable burden in your heart. You hold back and when the service is over, you leave, not any less burdened than when you came in.

You carry My invitation in your head. You know about Me desiring to come into your heart and be your Lord and Savior. You know I died for you. You know how I love you. And yet...you hold back.

You see the Table spread out with abundance. You see the Bread of Life, My Body on the cross, broken and offered to you.

You see the cups of blood-red wine, filled to the brim with joy, for I shed My blood willingly for you.

You see the beautiful fruit of My Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, all just waiting for you to reach out and take them.

 

You see crystal pitchers filled to the top with the Water of Life--cool and refreshing, glinting as I, the Light of World, sparkles on it. 

You see grapes, lavishingly supplied from Me, the Vine, waiting for you.

The honey from the Rock is sweet to your soul.

You hear music sung by Me, soft and inviting, calling you. Yet...you hold back. You stare through the window and you stand on the outside, with the cold winds blowing at your back. You sigh, and walk away. You walk into the night, and soon the light from the Table is a small glow against a dark sky, as you look longingly over your shoulder.

Walk long enough, and soon, you can no longer see the glow.

Why won't you come?

Shame: You don't know what I have done--awful, neglectful, spiteful, inexcusable things. Every day the parade of the past bangs by my window, and I awake, once more, to the sound of accusation. By the end of each day, I can't remember the wording of that invitation. That's why I have not responded.

Guilt: I have broken the law. God's laws. Men's laws. I am a criminal. Who wants such a dirty guest showing up to such a beautiful Table? That's why I have not responded.

Anger: God has let me down one too many times. Unanswered prayers, broken lives, failures and defeats have made me question the Host. I know He wants me to come, but I would just sit and glare at Him. That's why I haven't responded.

Fatigue: I am burdened. I am tired. I would rather just rest. The thought of even walking into the Banquet Hall to join Him exhausts me. Let's face it: He won't notice if I don't show up. That's why I haven't responded.

Not Sure: I read about this, I listen to sermons, and yet, I don't get it. The Host dying for me? And yet, if I ask questions, I feel stupid. Everyone else seems to get it. I don't want to sit at the Table feeling stupid. That's why I haven't responded.

Too Much Commitment: Oh yes, I know what the invitation says, but all I see is being committed to something I am not sure I want to be committed to--I would have to give up my spiritual fast-food. I know it's not nourishing, but it's quick, easy and I don't want to struggle. That's why I haven't responded.

Don't Need to Come: I'm good--thanks anyway. I have my own little table, and I am content with what I have. I am in control and I don't wish to let that go. I'd have to sit with others, and I like being alone. No hurts, no disappointments, no complexity. Yes, I am hungry, but I have grown used to feeling that way. That's why I haven't responded.

Too Much to Give Up: I have a whole lot of food sitting at home. I know that if I come to the Table, I know I will have to give up those foods that I should not be eating. It's OK to flit in and out but to actually sit down and face the Host means I would have to be authentic in my faith. I grab a nibble from the Table, to keep up appearances, but I head back home, looking forward to what awaits me. I know it's wrong, but, I can't help myself.

I sent you the invitation, knowing all of this. Just coming into the Banquet Hall will be a walk of faith, especially dragging those chains so entangled around your feet. Climbing up in the chair, looking about the Table, gazing into My face...yes, it will be hard.

I am still inviting you.

Why? Because being away from the Table is even harder. Spiritually malnourished people are more susceptible to spiritual illness. They grow weaker and over time, lose hope. Come to the Table.

Is there anything I cannot forgive? Is there anyone I cannot redeem?

"Behold, the LORD'S hand is not so short that it cannot save; nor is His ear so dull that it cannot hear..." (Isaiah 59:1).

Is there anything that you will give up that this Table cannot supply? Aren't the things that you cling to losing their potency? If not now, they soon will, and you will be hungry.

Come to the Table.

The invitation is a standing one. 

Water, Water Everywhere...

     I have always been around water.  I grew up on the California coast.  I lived in Santa Barbara, Santa Monica and even did a stint in Hawaii.  When I lived in LA, the ocean was only an hour away.  When I lived in northern California, it rained quite a bit and the marine fog would roll in from the San Francisco Bay in the evenings.  There was so much moisture in the air that the sidewalks would turn green from all of the mold growing in them.  Our house was near a greenbelt, where a stream flowed.
     I never started thinking about water until we moved to the high desert of Boise, Idaho.  We now live in the mountains, and although I can see the alpine line from my house, we are still in the high desert up here.   
     Every year, I see water in all its forms. In the summer, water is scarce.  All of the spring rivulets have dried up.  The foothills are dry and no snow sits atop Bogus Basin.

     In the late fall, we get rain. The cumulus clouds that form over the hills are magnificent.

     It snows with gusto in the winter.  We frequently get ice on the roads and pools of water freeze over.

     In the spring, we get tremendous thunderstorms, with rain and sometimes hail falling in abundance.  Our river runs high because of all the snow melting in the mountains.

     Water is a precious thing in the desert; the water for our house comes from a deep well, drilled into sandstone before we moved in.  This water has been collecting in the sandstone for thousands of years.  Without it, no water, no house.
     So, let's focus on water for a moment.  Water vapor is the gaseous form of water and it is invisible.  Yet it is everywhere, all around us in the air.  If the air is a bit humid, then we sense this moisture in the air.  If the air is exceedingly dry, we notice that too, as our skin dries out and we grow thirsty.    We mostly don't give water vapor a second thought.
     But, sometimes, it will manifest its presence.  We see water on the cool early morning grass--we call it dew.  On colder mornings, we see a white tint to the grass and upon closer inspection, we see water again--we call it frost.  If it warms up, the frost will melt into dew.  Where did this water come from?  It didn't rain...it came out of the water vapor that circulates in the air, and condenses into liquid water.
     But there's more.  When it gets cold in the mountains, and instead of it being bone-dry, we sometimes get an inversion and moisture is present abundantly in the air.

 

    Hoar or rime frost will then form on tree branches, fence posts and anywhere else it can gain a toe-hold.  The water from the air condenses out and forms frost at first and then with more moisture, the frost grows into larger and larger crystals, which look like ever-growing needles.  

 If the moisture continues, the crystals continue to grow.  The snow's surface starts looking like polar bear fur.

      Water vapor can be easily forgotten, until it manifests itself.  It is part of the atmosphere of our earth and part of the air we breathe.  In fact, on a cold day, we can see water vapor by exhaling and seeing that wee cloud in front of us. 
     God's creation has His signature on it.  Like any great work of art, we can learn about Him from what He created.  So, what does water teach us about Him?  Let's try to make a woefully inadequate but interesting analogy.
     God, like water vapor, is a subtle, invisible Presence.  He is close to us as our very breath.  Jesus is like the dew and the frost:  He "condensed" out of the Father's invisible Presence, and made God visible.  Jesus returned ("evaporated"--water as a liquid or solid returns back to water vapor) to the Father and sent the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit is the water vapor we breathe in and gives us life--the very water vapor we breathe in has oxygen in it.  Without oxygen, without His Spirit--life is impossible.
     Bear with me a few more moments with this analogy.  What causes the water vapor to condense out and manifest itself?  The cold does.  When our lives drop in temperature and feel cold, lonely, isolated and alone, He condenses out and manifests Himself in our lives.  How?  By refreshing rain and by cool breezes.  He gives us hope when there is none and reminds us that He will never leave nor forsake us.
     When our lives heat up, look far out to the horizon for that small cloud that is forming.  There is enough cool air to condense out that water vapor and soon, that cloud will grow and bring rain. 
     One final point:  there is a condition that is called a "Triple Point."  This is a spot where, with the right combination of temperature and pressure, all three forms of water are co-existing and are visible.  Just above freezing, you can see ice floating in a river or lake, with water vapor condensing off the surface as fog.  So, water as a liquid, a solid and as a gas all dance together in the cold of winter.
     In the cold of our winter,the Son stays alongside us, the Holy Spirit buoys us up, and the Father hovers over us.  We have our "Triple Point" when the cold hits us.  
     
   
    
    

Be a Sonflower

The days are dry.  The grasses that sway in the afternoon breezes are straw-like:  lightweight, brittle and snap at a touch.  The hills are beige, the grass is beige and the only green is sported by the grayish sage brush that grows in clumps here and there.  The skies are a hazy gray with a light touch of blue.  The sun rises an angry orange and the heat is oppressive, enveloping you when you walk outside.

Yet, despite the heat, the muted colors and the smokey skies, we are beseiged this summer...with sunflowers.  They are everywhere.

They dance in the sparsely grassed fields.

They line the roads, nodding as you drive by.

They do their best to decorate the burned trees from last year's fire.

They rejoice with the new growth that has since sprung up since that fire.

They add a much needed splash of lemon yellow to a dreary land.

They are not in a beautifully tended garden.  They are everywhere there's some soil and sunlight.

I have been enjoying the lesson I am learning from them this week.  They are an excellent example for me in my walk with Christ.  I need to dance in the joy He provides and the hope He alone can offer--where it is the most sparse is where the dance is needed the most.  I have a joy and hope that I can display to others--not for their approval of me, but to start a conversation about why I am dancing: "In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."  (Matthew 5:16)

I need to be where others are--along the roads of life.  I must acknowledge my fellow travelers on this planet, and try to catch their eyes with a smile.  We are the most lonely in a crowd because others fail to even look at us. 

Many lives have been scorched by sin, sadness and separation.  If I can hurt with someone, pray with someone and share with someone, I will be showing how Jesus has "decorated" my life: "Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." (Gal. 6:2).

The love of Jesus, flowing out of me, can reach people in a way that mere words cannot: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." (1 Cor. 13:4-8)  


In a dreary landscape, where people's hearts and minds are burdened with so much, a splash of kindness, of love, provides much needed color. 

Finally, Jesus' love in us shouldn't only be expressed in church.  That's the easy part--God's garden is clean, neat, full of smiles and seeming simplicity.  We need to take Jesus' love outside the garden, into the dry dusty fields of this world, relying on His soil and sunshine to make a difference.

Our world is in the long dry days of summer, with fires burning out of control.  Solution?  Be a Sonflower.

The Church of One? or ONE?

     Ah, the hummingbirds at my feeder.  They are a never-ending source of faith lessons.  This summer, we have had one very insistent black-chinned hummingbird who staked out the feeder in early in the season, and would not allow any other hummingbird to drink from it.  Last summer, we had a bunch of hummies coming and going but this summer, not so much.  
     This male would sit in the Russian olive tree and guard the feeder.  He would wait and wait and as soon as any other hummie came along...SWOOSH!  He would dive-bomb that bird and then fly back into the tree and resume his guard duty.  Occasionally, a female (his mate?) would come and drink, but I noticed that even females would be driven off and after a while, no other birds would be present.
     Did he drink from the feeder?  Yes, occasionally, but the vast majority of his time was spent guarding the feeder.  It's lonely at the top.  Obviously, this bird has commandeered this feeder as his own.  Despite the fact it's a "public" feeder, his behavior speaks volumes about how he views our feeder.  Oh, excuse me...HIS feeder.
     How often do we go to church and have the mentality of this wee bird?  We walk in and wonder if we will "like" the church.  In other words, what are we going to get out of it?  We notice other folks and look at their clothes/their way of talking/their friendliness (or the lack thereof) and make a judgment.  Then it's the music (too loud?  too hymmie?  too modern? too slow?)  and then here comes the pastor.  Hawaiian shirt?  Suit?  Jeans?  Cool shoes?  Flip-flops?  Then the sermon...
     You get the idea.  We are constantly monitoring our reaction and how we see the goings-on.  If any one of the aforementioned categories are lacking or are irritating, we decide that this church isn't for us.
     But, back to our hummie.  By the time we have driven away the people, the music and the pastor, it leaves just us...we become the Church of One.  Louis XIV (a very arrogant king of France) once said, "L'etat, c'est moi" ("The state is me.")  Do we have the same idea (although unlike Mr. Satin Pants, we wouldn't parade around saying so) that "L'eglise, c'est moi"--"The church is me."  It's all about how I react to what I see.  But, after much church hopping/shopping, we find it's lonely at the top.  
     Solution?  "Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching."  (Hebrews 10:23-25).  Why were the readers of this letter forsaking gathering together?  Perhaps they believed that Jesus would return any day now, and they thought, why bother?  Yet, the writer gives compelling reasons to meet together:  love, encouragement and hope.  
     Wow!  How are those wonderful things achievable?  By getting to know one another well enough to engage in their lives, and they in mine.  If I am flitting about from church to church, I will not get to know people well enough to really enter into fellowship with them.  "Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." (Gal. 6:2).  Isn't it interesting that the only "law" we are to follow is loving one another?  Our love will be the biggest witness of all about Who Jesus is: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-5).
     So, if we want the church to not be the Church of One, but the Church of ONE, what to do?  These are some compelling hallmarks of a "good" (that is, Biblical) church:
1.  The Bible is preached in its fullness:  Verses are not cherry-picked out and the emphasis is on His Word, not story-telling, psychology or personal narrative.  We are confronted with His Word, and our hearts are convicted.  God's Word, is by definition, confrontational:  "For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." (Heb. 4:12).   The Word is the very foundation of His Church, for it tells of the ONE Who died to make this life in Him even possible.  The Word ultimately is sufficient:

"All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work."  

2.  Love:  Is it really offered?  Are people genuinely concerned for you?  But, equally, can you offer love and have it well received? 

     That's it.  The rest--music, Hawaiian shirts, shoes--pale in comparison to a gathering of believers who sincerely seek the Word, and walk in His love.  Our life in Him is lived in community--with Him and with each other. 

That same Russian olive tree last winter is a much better "church."  More challenging (you mean I have to get along with all of you?)  but in the end, more of what He had in mind.

We Are ALL a Work-in-Progress

     By the late summer, living in the high desert, the color options are a tad limited: we have a generous array of browns, beige, sage green, some spring greens and a dash of yellow (wild sunflowers) and a lovely spot of blue (thank you, chicory).  So to have a lazuli bunting show up to the feeder is a cause for celebration!

     They are an astonishing combination of rusty red and a lovely blue.  I had never seen such birds before I moved to Idaho--I am used to the Western blue bird.  It has the same basic color combination, but in northern California, I wasn't so eager for bright color.  Leaving near the coast, I filled my color quotient daily!  I do love Idaho, but by the end of summer, the rather sedate color scheme needs a bit of encouragement and the buntings are made to order.  The other day, one showed up that was not quite so inspiring:

     Then, it hit me:  it's a baby!  This little guy is on his way to getting his beautiful plumage, but he's not there yet.  I just assumed that buntings are always beautiful.  
     What a profound thought as we walk with our fellow brothers and sisters in the Lord:  we assume that they will always be beautiful:  kind, loving, patient, reflecting Jesus.  And yes, many are on their way to getting their beautiful "plumage":  they really want to reflect the Lord's work in their lives.  But what happens when they have a bad day?  How do they act if they are tired/upset/angry/disappointed?  Then the "plumage" isn't so lovely to behold.  They are a bit raggedy as they show up to our feeder.  Are we then rather judgmental?  "Hey, you love the Lord!  You should always reflect that!"  
     But let's reverse this, and I become the bird.  I show up raggedy to the many feeders I visit, and I wouldn't want someone to look out of their kitchen window and say, "Wow!  Look at her--she isn't a beautiful blue like all Christians should be."  I would want to turn around and say, "I am having a bad day.  I would like more beautiful plumage, and I believe I am on my way there, but today is not a good day."  In other words, I would like a little mercy for my less than pleasurable shade of Christian blue.
     I believe that's what the "judge not, lest you be judged" scripture is all about.  Let's look at the passage:
    
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye"  (Matthew 7:1-5).  

     I apply the Golden Rule to this, and by reversing it, I think we get to the heart of the matter.  We like to judge:  we look out our kitchen windows and notice how blue or not blue others are, and in doing so, we feel superior.  The focus shifts from our inadequacies to those of others and for a moment, we can feel our blue is best.  So, while we do the judging, we want JUSTICE.
     Now, by reversing it, we are the ones being judged.  We are well aware of our inadequacies and someone pointing them out to us is not a surprise to us.  We are very aware of the specks in our eyes.  They itch and burn and keep us from clear vision about ourselves.  So, when we are being judged, we want MERCY.  We want people to understand us and our needs and hope that they can find some leniency in their hearts.  In other words, we hope that they find some compassion for us and our raggedy blue.
    But, if the standard is not me by which I judge, but Jesus, suddenly all of our blues need time to reach their fullest beauty.  We are humbled by Jesus' brilliant blue, and so my blue is not better than my brother's or sister's.  
     We are all a work in progress:  Paul could confidently say about his fellow believers that he was "confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6).  So, next time someone less than blue shows up (or maybe it's you that less than blue!) remember:  we are all under the skillful training of Christ and it takes time.  It's little wonder that patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit:  we so need it for ourselves and others!

HEY! Who Moved My Feeder?

     In a word, "wow."  This has been quite the busy last few weeks.  Once again, the hummingbirds have provided a good parallel to what I have gone through.  Let's start with them.

     Originally, my hummingbird feeder was attached to my kitchen window.  The benefits were many:  I could get an up close and personal view of the hummies as they fed; I could take good pictures of them; and it is always a treat to watch their amazing wings finally fold--if only for a few seconds--as they lower their beaks into the feeder.  They look around with sweet but anxious faces and their little feet cling to the feeder and then WHOOSH, they are gone.  Hummies are like a shooting star--if you're not looking carefully, you will miss them.

     So my feeder allowed me to watch my "shooting stars."  But there is one problem.  The high winds we have up on our hill means the feeder may blow off and hit the ground, or all of the sugar-water splashes out, leaving a sticky mess on the window.  

    So, after the last storm, I moved the feeder to the raised bed.  Oh my, did I cause a ruckus in the hummies'world.  One particular male--a black-chinned hummingbird--was especially irked.  He flew several times up to the kitchen window, hovering and looking in.  He had the "HEY!  Where's my feeder?" look in his wee birdie eyes.  He kept flying around and was joined by a few equally confused? irked? female hummies.  I was waiting for a phone call from their lawyer--a loud humming sound over the phone would be a dead giveaway.  Yet, the feeder isn't that far from its original site--I moved it only about ten feet.  It is still full of yummy sugar-water.  Nothing has really changed in my mind--same feeder, same water, just a different spot.  But to the hummies?  Everything has changed.
     And so onto my world.  My husband, for the last few years, has had occasional shortness of breath.  His doctor attributed it to the cold dry air.  He was getting increasingly tired.  We attributed that to getting older.  Then, last month, he was afflicted with a kidney stone, whose pain sent him into the ER and into a procedure to blast it away.  It was 7 millimeters, so he wasn't going to pass it for love nor money.  In the course of all the tests being run in the ER to determine what was wrong, the nurses noticed his heart sounded funny.  So, after the procedure for the stone, we now switched gears to understand why his heart sounded odd.
     Long blog short:  his aortic valve needed replacing.  My husband is only 56, so we were a bit shocked.  It is either a congenital defect or the result of a high fever he suffered as a young child.  Either way, the doctor said that surgery was the only option.  Wow.
     Thankfully, it was not the open-heart kind of surgery--the doctor would put in the valve via an incision.  So, one week ago, my husband went in and had the valve replaced, and is slowly but surely, recovering.  We really had our feeder moved:  one minute we are enjoying the summer and then WHOOSH:  kidney stone, angiogram, and then heart surgery.  
     I flew up to my Lord's kitchen window and looked in.  I wasn't angry--just perplexed.  But I am thankful, for without the kidney stone and the resulting tests, Clayton may have found out about his wonky heart in more of an emergency situation.  I am thankful I have my Lord's kitchen window available to fly up to; I cannot imagine facing those long hours in the corridors and waiting rooms of the hospital alone.  Our family and friend have been lovely--prayers, emails, cards and lots of love have come our way.  But having your feeder moved is never easy.
     What have I learned?  A few things:
1.  Feeders get moved:  Sometimes we are privy to why, but most often we are faced with a challenge with no easy answers.  And yet, Jesus is standing there, moment by moment.
2.  Jesus uses people to speak to us--a stranger, a loved one, a distant friend.  Allow Jesus to use those around you to be His hands and feet.
3.  Trust that a moved feeder is not an absent feeder:  Jesus is still Lord, He still loves us and is still bringing beauty from ashes: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."  (Romans 8:28).  Notice something here:  not everything is good that happens, but God can transform the negative into the good.  Only He can do that and trust Him to do so.
4.  God is speaking, whenever you and feeder are.  He is never absent:  "Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deut. 31:6).
     Feeders move, but "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." (Heb. 13:8).
     God is good.

The Lord's Bathtub

This is not the usual place to find a frog:

     Yup.  It's a frog in my bathtub.  I wonder if his fellow frogs could see him, what would they say...
     "If you can get water to come out of that thing, you'd live like a king!"
     "Nice digs, but where are the plants?"
     "I like the minimalist architecture, but a rock here or there would be nice."
     "Kinda Zen.  But...How'd you get in?"
     "What are you thinking!  They have a CAT!"

     And yet, the frog seems content with his rather simple landscape.  He has one key advantage:  he has ME.  I will keep the cat from him; I will make sure he is secure while he is in my house.  Eventually, I will place him back into a more secure environment.  I will be careful in handling him, knowing that frogs cannot be handled roughly.  Finally, I care about him.  
     (Note:  this is not an informal resume for a position at the Humane Society.  With all the creatures that I come in contact with living in the mountains, each one has its place.  I want to make sure that I do my best to assist in keeping that order.  So, I just don't kill an "intruder"--I do my best to put it back where it belongs.  Though, lest I sound too self-righteous, I just killed an enormous wolf spider...he was outside even, but the horror of his size made me grab the bug spray.)
     Do you feel out of place?  Do people around you think you are nuts for following Christ?  Are you a frog in the "Lord's bathtub?"  Yes, it more "normal" to be part of the world around you, yet the Bible is all too clear about our new place in the world, once we accept Jesus as Savior and Lord: " You adulterous people, don't you know that friendship with the world means enmity against God? Therefore, anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God" (James 4:4).
    Whoa--those are strong words. We focus on being followers of Jesus and He even calls us friends: "I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you" (John 15:15). He calls us His children: "See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him" (1 John 3:1)  
     But...an enemy of God?  And why does James use the word "adulterous"?
     Think about it:  if you love someone other than the one you are married to, that is adultery.  If we are lusting for something we cannot have and denigrate the one we are with, we are trying to serve two masters, and eventually the more worldly one (the one that best fulfills our fleshly desires) will prevail, if we are not careful.
     Of course, we are out of place here in this world.  Christ died for us, brought us into a place of safely and love, and if we expect the world to applaud that, we are mistaken.  Jesus says quite simply:   "If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first" (John 15:18).  In fact, the hatred others bore Him led them to conspire for His death.
     We want to get along with the world so we can witness to Who Jesus is in our lives.  Paul himself says,
    "Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law.  To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings" (1 Cor. 9:19-23).  
     But, that "outta place feeling" is a consequence of our loyalty to Christ.
     Think of what following Him really means:  We have JESUS.  He watches over us.  He will make a way for us in an insecure environment. He knows we are fragile, and handles us gently. He cares for us, and someday, we will reside with Him in heaven.
     The "Lord's bathtub" is not where all the frogs hang out--as for me, it's the best place to be:  "But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served...But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord" (Joshua 24:15).
     Now, I must go and make sure that wee frog is all right.

The Days of Dry Rain

     This picture was taken in the spring.  These are called triteleias or triplet lilies. 

     Here's that same location:

     Quite a difference, huh?  Is it the sunlight and then the lack thereof?  No, Idaho has many days of sunlight, and even though it was a bit cloudy when I took the second picture, the sun had been shining all day. 
     In a word:  water. Water is a precious commodity in the high desert, and nothing illustrates that more than when we leave the rain of spring and enter into heat of summer.  Then we get something called "dry rain."  I had no idea what that was, and an elderly gentleman referred to it while we were talking one day, not long after I moved to Boise.  I asked, "What's that?" and he looked a bit surprised that I didn't know.  He explained that it's rain that falls from the sky but never hits the earth, due to the heat. 
     Those are exactly the conditions we have now:

     You can see the rain curtain but it is not hitting the earth.  We hit 100 degrees today and with that hot air rising, the rain doesn't stand a chance.  Compare that to just a few weeks ago, when we had a cool mass of air move in and the glorious rain fell:

     The massive amount of water in the air took the sunlight and rendered it as a rainbow.  The air was cool and the rain refreshed the earth.  The days of dry rain are upon us.  We get thunder and  lightning--all the trapping of a storm, but without that crucial element:  water. 

     I reflect on how this so corresponds to our walk with Jesus. We can feel His sunlight and warmth in our lives--we have accepted Him as Savior and know that He has forgiven our sins. With sins paid for, we are free to come to His Father.  Now, there are no walls, only open doors: "But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, 'Abba, Father.'  So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir" (Galatians 4:4-7).  So, we are now part of God's family and we can bask in the light of His mercy and grace.

    But once our place in Him is secured by the work of His Son, we need to be walking every day in His Presence.  We need water every day--you can last maybe three days without it.  We need Him everyday.  We cannot walk abundantly without Him.  Our lives can start to slowly but surely shrivel up.

     Water is equally important to the Jewish people, due to the desert conditions that they faced throughout their history.  So, water in the Bible can mean judgment.  Look how God used an overabundance of rain to wipe sin from the earth; it is a judgment, but also a cleansing.  Perhaps another way to look at the flood is it was a global baptism, meant to wash away the sin of mankind, and the new life come forth from the ark.            

     Water was also used in a judging and cleansing way when the Red Sea parted for the Israelites, but then closed over and drowned Pharoah's army.  The water removed or cleansed away, as it were, the Egyptians' control from the lives of the people.

    Water was used to demonstrate God's provision. Moses struck a rock to bring forth water for the people as they wandered in the desert. Paul says ultimately that this rock was Christ: "They all ate the same spiritual food and drank the same spiritual drink; for they drank from the spiritual rock that accompanied them, and that rock was Christ." (1 Cor. 10:3-4). 

     Christ was struck for our sins.  The water that comes from Him is His Spirit.  We are filled and with that abundance and we are able to reach out and touch others:  “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them" (John 7:37-8).

     The "heat" of our sin, our attitudes and our disobedience will keep His refreshing rain at a distance.  Solution?  "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9).  

     Water is potent in a dry land.  His water is potent in a dry soul. We need His Spirit to be raining upon us. We, in turn, must be obedient. The dry rain in our lives needs the Living Water of Christ. Christ as Savior in my life is only the first step. I must walk daily with Him as He seeks to be Lord of my life. 

     Good news:  just as I was writing this, the dry rain actually fell to earth in a glorious shower.  I went outside and sat on my porch, reveling in the refreshing, cool air.  We all need to spend time on His porch, reveling in His refreshing, cooling Presence.  The heat will come, the land will dry up, but Christ is faithful:  "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10).