It Gots Bones

 

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Have you ever read a brilliant quote –and were afraid to post it because the author has made other statements you don’t agree with?

I quoted someone I thought gave a delightfully pithy observation. Giving credit where credit is due, I named the the author, of course. Later someone contacted me saying, “I didn’t know you were a follower of McBarnacle! Are you aware of his eschatological position on the role of kumquats in the millennium, or his opinions on the Publicat party?”

OK. I made that up. But here’s my point: I do not worship human beings or consider any one of them to be right about everything –at least not as right as I am.

When my then three-year old grandson was visiting he asked me what I was making for supper. I told him chicken. He was quite excited because, as he said several times in a row, he reawy, reawy, reawy liked chicken.

When we sat down to eat he took a bite and yowled, “It gots bones! Why you put bones in it?”

Apparently until that point the boy had never eaten anything more challenging than chicken nuggets. Who knew? I tried to explain how to pick it up and eat around the drumstick, but for him, this was too much work and dinner was a massive disappointment.

I’ve also heard many people complain that they feel called to another fellowship because they are “just not being fed.”

I want to respond, “So pick up a fork.”

We want to be fed our comforting spiritual food in easily digested liquid form from denominationally-approved sterile 10-minute-devotional bottles.

It is written in Hebrews 5: About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food,  for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

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Ask any little kid. Teething is the pits. It makes you wonder if chewing is really worth it. Learning to avoid bones and spit out grizzle takes even more skill and diligence and often involves uncomfortable experiences with learning how to dispose of a hunk of gnarly weirdness with enough decorum not to embarrass your mother. If our tummies are full of warm sweet milk, or our hunger is satisfied by pre-masticated mechanically de-boned breaded fried chicken blobs, drumsticks will hold no thrill.

Just the thought of spiritual whole fish (or pomegranates) can send some people on a google search of heresy hunter sites.

I wonder if God is silent on some questions we desperately want answers to because he’s waiting for us to be motivated enough to chew on something for a while. Yes, the young need milk, but not forever. I’ve heard people worry aloud that some writers/teachers/leaders include just enough truth to get you to trust them, but if you do you are certain to be deceived.

Well, if you plan to swallow everything, yes –but not if you use your God-given discernment, developed by constant use, to chew the nourishing bits and spit out the bones.

So, if I quote someone, it’s because that particular statement resonated with me, and not because I plan to sell the homestead and move into a commune where we all wear purple, drink koolaid, and shout “Heil McBarnacle!”

Yes, it gots bones. Deal with it.

Double Flowering

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You are my God, and I give You thanks;
You are my God, and I praise You.
Give thanks to our Eternal Lord; He is always good.
He never ceases to be loving and kind.
(Psalm 118:28,29 The Voice)

Victory Over Fear

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Our first place of victory [over fear] is in believing the truth concerning our relationship with God. Paul tells us that, “having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom 5:1). We reject the lie that insists God is our enemy. We come to believe He is our Helper in the healing of our souls!

— Francis Frangipane

Light, Love, Joy

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May not a single moment of my life be spent outside the light, love and joy of God’s presence and not a moment without the entire surrender of myself as a vessel for Him to fill full of His Spirit and His love.
-Andrew Murray

My Grandmother, the Photographer

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Grandma was what they called “a character.” If you’re old enough to remember Tugboat Annie or Ma Kettle she could have been type-cast in either of those roles. I’ve written about my mother before so this Mother’s Day I’d like to honour my other mother.

She ran a boarding house in downtown east Calgary during the war years up until the end of the fifties. She told us it used to be the Northwest Mounted Police officer’s quarters before that. But it’s hard to know for sure. She was an honest woman, but facts underwent some sort of redistribution once they went through the shuffling process in her brain. Sometimes she just grabbed a date from one pile, a place from another and a name from a third and wound them all up in a story that we fondly referred to as “Grandma’s version.”

She could read if she was allowed to point to the words and move her lips, but bits of the information she gleaned that way ended up in scattered fact piles that just added colour to her already improvised histories. She said the one room school burned down before she was in third grade and the neighbours who helped build the first one never got around to help build a second so that’s all the learnin’ she got. Since the home she grew up in was thirty miles from the nearest road, that story was plausible.

Everyone all the way downtown knew her, including the shopkeepers, the bus drivers, the preachers at the Prophetic Bible Institute and the folks at city hall. She may not have been able to read books well, but she could read people and she was the ultimate extrovert and filled the house with all manner of friends, from the chief of police to the homeless guy with a three-legged dog. As a teen I remember her carrying around a camera with her and setting off a flash at some of the most inopportune times. (Maybe that’s where I got the habit.)

When my father had to reduce his worldly goods to fit into a room at the lodge I decided to put his photos on a digital frame. Since his memory is failing he asked me to label them. That’s when I found my grandmother’s photo albums with page after page of unidentifiable torsos. They all looked like healthy torsos but my grandmother had her own concept of photographic composition. She knew who they were. They make me smile. May I present some of her work?

 

 

Creative use of negative space

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Portrait of Grandma’s favourite TV evangelist, Rex Humbard

 

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Grandma truly perfected the candid reluctant pose

 

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Colour photography thrilled her, especially when she chose the outfits.

 

Dwayne, Melody, Wade Leah, Mervin

Happy Irthday Ladies”. A cake and a record of someone’s efforts to attach mauve lace to a green tablecloth. Perhaps it had ecological significance.

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I can just hear her saying, “Here, Daddy. Hold my purse while I take a picture of you.”

 

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Romantic anniversary shoots were her specialty.

 

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Grandma taught her family her photographic techniques so they could pinch-hit in an emergency. This is Grandma and Grandpa’s 50th anniversary.

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Choosing the right setting communicates so much, and what could be more appropriate for a family from the dust bowl than a Saskatchewan sandstorm.

Dorsey Family

The truth is, she may have embarrassed me half to death, but I adored my grandmother. Since my own mother was often ill or working she was my main caretaker. She was a camp counselor at 81 years old and her cabin of girls loved her because she knew how to have fun -and she never read the rules.

She the one with the biggest smile.

The Donaldson Family

 

 

Lord Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise

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You never know what lies around the bend.

James, the guy who came to believe that Jesus, his older brother, was God (and brothers have ample opportunity to observe character) wrote this: Just a moment, now, you who say, “We are going to such-and-such a city today or tomorrow. We shall stay there a year doing business and make a profit”! How do you know what will happen even tomorrow? What, after all, is your life? It is like a puff of smoke visible for a little while and then dissolving into thin air. Your remarks should be prefaced with, “If it is the Lord’s will, we shall be alive and will do so-and-so.”

We just learned that our friend, who has spent months preparing for a move to Western Africa and was about to depart in a few days, died suddenly during minor surgery. We are stunned, but trusting God to turn even this situation into something better than we hoped.

Here’s the thing: Trust is built on character. Proven character.

Come election time (which seems to be perpetual in some places) a great deal of money is thrown around trying to convince the public that this person they have never met is of exemplary character and actually cares deeply about your personal needs, Mrs. What-did you-say-your-name-was? We’ve all seen that game played long enough to know trust may be bought temporarily, but the truth will out. We’ve seen false promotion, but we’ve seen slander and spins and false accusations of opponents as well.

Jesus Christ was falsely accused and executed on the basis of those kind of accusations. Religious presumption has always said, “If you are really God and really in charge you will show your love in a way I would do it. If I were God people could indulge their cravings and fight to be on top without consequence to others or the environment. If I were the one who was all-loving, all-knowing and all-powerful I would give unlimited freedom and intervene miraculously to save people from the repercussions of listening to the father of lies if only to save my own reputation. If you are love, this is how you will show it.”

For many people abused by religious presumption on God’s grace (which ironically morphs into a legalistic portrayal of a vengeful God without grace) trust is difficult. It is difficult because they do not know him or his character because they have only heard about him from people with agendas. They have never met him personally.

Our friend’s wife has. In the midst of grief and turmoil and upset plans she can still say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” And our friend? To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. For a man who loved the Lord with his whole heart what could possibly be better?

I keep remembering the night when the Lord spoke kindly to me in a dream and said, “Those who are afraid to pray ‘Thy will be done’ do not fully comprehend my love.”

Was our friend a casualty of the clash between two kingdoms or was this Gods’ timing for his life? I don’t know. All I know is God is God and I am not. But he has proven his loving character to me over and over through Jesus Christ who loved me so much he said he’d rather die than live without me –and so he did. And then he conquered death so that we could be together forever. I trust that kind of love.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.


Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 

As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
    we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life,

neither angels nor demons,

neither the present nor the future,

nor any powers, 

neither height nor depth,

nor anything else in all creation,

will be able to separate us from the love of God

that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(Romans 8:34-39)

Restoration

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I planted tulips the year we moved into this house 26 years ago. Then the deer moved into our neighbourhood. Deer like tulips -for breakfast. They devour them like Lindt chocolates (and seem to prefer the red ones). After a while no tulips sprang up when the spring sun warmed the garden and I didn’t plant anymore. Occasionally tulip leaves emerged, but either they formed no flowers or the deer nipped them in the bud and they shrank back into the ground quickly. I forgot all about them.

This year three brave tulips are blooming under my window, returning after all these years.

Some people are like that. The period of “the dark night of the soul” may last a long time. The “devourer” has kept them from raising their heads and freely being who they are created to be. The years of darkness, when no growth can be seen, can last a very long time. Mine did. There were people who lost hope for me as depression and negativity kept me in a shallow grave year after year.

Mine did. There were people who lost hope for me as depression and negativity kept me in a shallow grave year after year.

There were people who lost hope for me as depression and negativity kept me in a shallow grave year after year.

But God…

God is in the restoration business. Time is not as important as process to him. He knows who we really are, and he is not disappointed.

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:1-5)

Save

Unfading Beauty

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Sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the beauty of God’s creation I just want to cry and thank him from the bottom of my heart for moments like these.

But they are moments. I am anxious to get out there with my camera because I know these sunny wild flowers will fade and die within a week or two.

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Other flowers will replace them later -the lupins, the daisies, the bright red salvia- and they will be just as beautiful. And they will also droop and fade and die.

In landscape photography much depends upon the season and the weather conditions and the time of day and angle of the sun. I think my desperation to get out there when the conditions are right, even though the timing may be inconvenient for other obligations, is about an awareness that life is fleeting.

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But temporary beauty is like a sign post that points to a greater, more permanent beauty that will not fade.

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I’ve been thinking about this verse:
But let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. (1 Peter 3:4)

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I disliked it in my youth because of the way it and the surrounding verses were applied. The result was a rather oppressive less-than-lovely interpretation of freedom. Today I see something different. Some translations use the term incorruptible beauty, meaning beauty that is not subject to ugly decay like a corpse. Other translations say unfading loveliness or lasting beauty. All of them talk about a higher form of beauty -a gentle, quiet, peaceful spirit. “Not anxious or wrought up” in the Amplified version. Peace comes from within, but so does beauty.

I would not want to return to the type of sexual harassment I experienced in some of my first jobs, nor would I want to be embarrassed by the wolf whistles and remarks that came with walking past construction sites when I was 18, but like many woman I never realized how far my looks took me until I lost them. There’s that moment when you realize that being called a femme fatale is now more about your absent-mindedness behind the wheel of a car than your ability to be a lust-magnet. It’s actually kind of a sad day when attractive men confide in you about their romantic problems as if you have been neutered by “fading loveliness.”

Beauty is not the only currency. Many of my friends who are reaching retirement age have to face the realization that the currency that earned them a place of respect or usefulness in this world is not holding its former value. Surgeons lose their dexterity, musicians lose their hearing, and teachers lose their patience. Athletes and dancers face this reality sooner than actuarians, but eventually the time comes when we are replaced by those with brighter newer beauty, talent, or skill. We fight it. Man, how we fight it, but reality hits us square in the mirror eventually.

“Inward beauty” is not a euphemism for “nice personality” or “a great face for radio.” Inward beauty is more like the light that glows in a dark and dreary season. Inward beauty shines when a person knows they are deeply loved and cherished. The inwardly beautiful will not be plucked, stuffed in a vase, admired and tossed a few days later; they are at peace with God and themselves and can afford to love others gently and extravagantly because they know they have been forgiven much. Inward beauty does not fade or droop or shrivel or rot. It keeps growing through all the seasons of life because their intimate relationship with the Creator of such beauty grows on for eternity.

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We’ve only just begun.

Away With Sorrow

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I look forward to this week here in the mountains. The sunflowers are in bloom on Eager Hill. The minor surgery I had last week has knocked the stuffings out of me a bit, but taking the climb slowly allowed me to appreciate the scents and sounds and changing light as spring showers shifted through the sky. I took frequent breaks and simply breathed in joy.

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Mein gläubiges Herze,
Frohlocke, sing, scherze,
Dein Jesus ist da!
Weg Jammer, weg Klagen,
Ich will euch nur sagen:
Mein Jesus ist nah.

My faithful heart,
delight, sing, play,
your Jesus is here!
Away with sorrow, away with lamenting,
I will only say to you:
my Jesus is near.
-J.S. Bach

IMG_9070 Eager Hill May

Release your heart’s joy in sweet music to the Eternal.
    When the upright passionately sing glory-filled songs to Him, everything is in its right place.
Worship the Eternal with your instruments, strings offering their praise;
    write awe-filled songs to Him on the 10-stringed harp.
Sing to Him a new song;
    play each the best way you can,
    and don’t be afraid to be bold with your joyful feelings.

 For the word of the Eternal is perfect and true;
    His actions are always faithful and right.
 He loves virtue and equity;
    the Eternal’s love fills the whole earth.

(Psalm 33:1-5)

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