Why Will You Die?

We are on the verge of 2021, and I hear so many people holding out high hopes for the coming year.  Everyone seems glad to be rid of 2020, as though there is something magical about the turn of the calendar page.  That is, of course, pretty shallow thinking.  The division of our days into years is arbitrary.  There is nothing innately special about the change from December 31 to January 1.  It’s just another rotation on our axis, another revolution around the sun which is a continuous circle beginning and ending at any point.

People are so hopeful that with the new year and the possibility of getting a vaccine against covid, the pandemic will be over.  This makes the assumption that this pandemic will not be followed by another.  Or that the virus will not mutate in a way that makes the vaccine ineffective.  I’m watching people on television standing in line for the vaccine so excited that now life will get back to “normal,” and they will no longer have to isolate from family and friends.  I hope this optimism is warranted, both for their sakes and my own. 

And then there is the hope of the stimulus money…if only congress will pass that bill that gives everyone $2000 instead of $600.  Where do you suppose this money is coming from?  If the government needs money, it just prints it.  Here comes inflation which produces even more hardship.

Those who are left-leaning politically are so sure that the Biden administration is going to solve the problems of our society.  If we can just get rid of Trump, all will be well.  The right-leaning element is, of course, sure that disaster looms.  We will lose our freedoms.

None…well, maybe a few…of our problems are Trump’s fault, but Biden is not our savior.  There is only one Savior.  It doesn’t matter who sits in the oval office, God is on the throne of the universe.  I do not pretend to know the mind of God or be able to predict the future, but I can’t imagine how much longer He will tolerate the flaunting of His guidelines.

In spite of the crises we have faced, I do not see people in droves realizing the need to repent of their wicked ways and give God His rightful place in their hearts and in our society.  The threat of annihilation has been wasted on us.  That being the case, perhaps actual annihilation is coming. 

Here I am dressed (figuratively) in sackcloth holding a sign “Repent for the end is near.”  Perhaps this is influenced by my recent Bible reading in Ezekiel.  Last night I read, “As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.  Turn! Turn from your evil ways!  Why will you die…?”

I want the New Year to be a happy one.

I want us to be able to see one another’s faces without masks.

I want to travel to see my grandchildren.

I want hospitals to return to “busy” and leave “frantic” behind.

We all want “normal,” but what does that mean?

Are these things possible in a society that accepts immorality…promotes immorality…praises immorality…a society in which immorality has become the “norm?”

Wednesday, December 23, 1998.

December 23^rd fell on a Wednesday in 1998.  I remember the day vividly, because it was the day my mother left us and went to be with Jesus.

My sweet and beautiful mother had a series of health issues that year.  She and my Dad had lived with us for a few days during the ice storm at the beginning of the year, as they were without electricity and heat.  During that time, she passed out repeatedly due to irregular heartbeat.  As soon as the hospital was off generator power and again functioning normally, she had a pacemaker inserted.  But her troubles continued.  In June she had a heart attack and in July she had a stroke…a massive stroke.  Rather than put her in a nursing home, we cleared out our dining room and put in a hospital bed for her and a twin bed for my Dad.  And there she was as Christmas approached, unable to do anything for herself, and with a leg that was becoming increasingly black with gangrene due to terrible circulation.

Hospice came in daily for an hour to help with her care.  A few days before Christmas, they gave us an aide for an entire day so I could finish my Christmas shopping.  At the time, my first three grandchildren were very young, and I was trying to figure out how I could celebrate Christmas with them when my Mother was dying in the adjacent room.

The morning of December 23^rd was a gray and gloomy day.  There was no snow on the ground, and it was looking like it would not be a white Christmas.  Inside, things were as cheery as possible.  The tree in the living room was positioned so that my Mom could see it from her bed in the dining room.  The gifts were wrapped and under the tree.  The dining room table was in a small sitting room between the living room and kitchen, so I would be able to serve a family meal.  I had made a special gift for my Mom.  Since she always wore hospital gowns, I had made two of them out of lovely soft fabric and trimmed them with lace.  I had previously made a small green fleece blanket with reindeer on it to cover her.

The Hospice aide arrived and began to bathe Mom.  As a nurse, this is a job I could have and sometimes did, but having someone else do it, freed me up for other necessary things.  I was at the time home-schooling our son, who had just had his 12^th birthday, so I had a lot on my plate.  I was in the room and helping the Hospice aide turn Mom on her side, so her back could be washed and massaged.  I saw the color drain from Mom’s face, and I knew she was going.  My Dad was sitting at a card table working on his Christmas cards, so I called to him, “Dad, she’s going.”  He, trying to be strong, responded gruffly that she was already gone.

It was late morning.  I called my husband and suggested that he take our son to Rotary with him at noon.  I didn’t want our son to see his beloved grandmother removed from our home in a body bag.  I called other family members who needed to know.  A Hospice nurse arrived to actually pronounce her deceased and help in the disposal of medications and other necessary matters.

The undertaker came.  Instead of the stiff black plastic body bag I expected, he had a soft blue corduroy bag.  Blue was my Mom’s favorite color and seeing her wrapped in something that looked lovely was comforting to me.  As they carried her body down the steps, I realized it had started to snow…big, soft, beautiful flakes of snow were drifting down.  It was going to be a white Christmas after all.

We had a typical Christmas with family, and the memorial service for my Mom was held on the weekend.  The timing turned out perfectly.  My Dad handled the loss well through the holidays.  The weight of the loss didn’t settle in until later.  I was unable to grieve at first.  Initially, all I could feel was relief that my Mom was no longer suffering.  It was months later that I could grieve the loss of the person she had been before that last year of pain and difficulty.

Many times in the past 22 years, I have found myself thinking “Oh, I should tell Mom about that!”  or “I wonder what Mom would say about this situation.”  She was beautiful, kind, intelligent, sometimes funny, always wise, and not afraid to do what was right even when it wasn’t convenient.  In a quiet and gentle way, she was a force to be reckoned with.  I look forward to seeing her again in heaven someday.  We will have lots to talk about!

Incineration

Made from the dust

And to ashes returned,

All transpiring in between

Destined to be burned.

 

The glory of His presence

An all-consuming fire,

He burns away the dross

On a refining pyre.

 

All that is material

Drifting as a cloud

Leaves behind a pile of ash

Underneath death’s shroud.

 

And what becomes of all we’ve done,

Of wood, hay, and stubble?

Will there be anything to show,

For all our earthly trouble?

 

How can I stand before Him?

How could I be so bold?

Unless the blood and the fire

Refine me there to gold.

Christmas Cookies

I love to bake, and I especially like to bake Christmas cookies!

When we moved to the retirement community, I must have told myself I wouldn’t be doing as much baking, because I don’t seem to have my cookie press or the cake pan that can be used to make that adorable manger scene.  If I did bring them with me, I have no idea as to their whereabouts.  But that’s okay, because there aren’t any children around to enjoy the edible manger scene, and there are still so many cookies I can make.

There are some deterrents.  I have essential tremor and sometimes a cup or spoonful of an ingredient ends up on the countertop instead of in the mixing bowl.  I have back pain if I stand up working for more than about 45 minutes, so I have to take breaks and sit down.   But on the other side of the argument is this irresistible urge to bake cookies….lots of cookies.

I should not be eating these cookies.  All that sugar isn’t good for me, and now there is that darn A1C test, which measures the average glucose level over the past 3 months.  I’m due for that in February, so the 3 month period does include Christmas cookie season.  It is my intent to give most of these cookies away…but…many of the old folks here that I plan to give them to probably shouldn’t eat too many either.  My husband just succumbed to his fourth warm-out-of-the-oven cookie from the current batch.  He used to run so regularly that it didn’t matter, but he is slowing down, and his waist is expanding.

At this point, I have baked sugar cookie cutouts, date bars, snickerdoodles and white chocolate-cranberry cookies.  I am planning on peanut blossoms, cherry blossoms, Christmas jewels and brownies with mint M&Ms mixed in the batter.  Eight different kinds should satisfy me, but my head is spinning with cookies from Christmases past.  What about rosettes, spritz, gingerbread, thumbprints, coconut orange tartlets, bon bons, fudge melt-aways, Russian teacakes, lemon bars, molasses crinkles???  What about all the kinds I haven’t tried for which I have recipes clipped out of magazines or printed from the internet?

I guess I could blame this on having a degree in chemistry, because there are similarities between chemistry and baking, but it’s more likely that this is all my Mother’s fault.  I have been conditioned since childhood!

I loved my Mother's cookies and so did many other people, including Santa.

Am I Grieved?

 Chapter 9 of Ezekiel tells an interesting tale.  God can no longer put up with the awful things happening in the vicinity of his temple.  He orders a man with a writing kit to go through the city and place a mark on all of those who are grieving over the terrible things being done.  He then orders a group of men carrying weapons to follow the first man and kill without any pity or compassion all we do not have the identifying mark.  “’Slaughter the old men, the young men and women, the mothers and children, but do not touch anyone who has the mark.  Begin at my sanctuary.’  So they began with the old men who were in front of the temple.”

I realize this is Old Testament, and so there is perhaps valid reason to interpret this metaphorically.  But I’m not so sure this isn’t prophetic and looming in our future as a nation.  Horrible, wicked things are happening not only in the world, but in our own nation.  God’s commands are being openly defied.  Even “the old men in front of the temple” have abandoned the principles God has laid out.   Homosexuality among clergy is tolerated and even applauded.  Abortion up to birth is shrugged off.  Tolerance of anything and everything is preached from the pulpit.  If biblical directives are brought up, we are told that isn’t “loving,” and we are narrow-minded bigots.

Forgotten is the fact that God is a God of both love and justice.  Is He going to send his angels of death among us?

Interestingly in this story, his judgment falls not only on those who are doing the wickedness, but also on those who aren’t grieved by it.  Apathy is not to be tolerated.  How many of us are not sufficiently grieved by the evil being perpetrated all around us?  It is easy to become inured.  If we listen to the news, we hear daily of children being abused, of powerful men crushing those under them, of religious leaders with their hands in the till, of all types of sexual perversion, of cheating and dishonesty ignored.

If we focus on all of this, we could grieve constantly in a way that made us depressed and non-functional.  I don’t believe that is God’s intent.  If we turn into raving lunatics, no one will pay attention to what we say.  But, I do think as we hear of evil things, we can grieve along with God in prayer.  We can ask Him for wisdom.  We can speak up fearlessly.  We can plead with Him to “make the crooked straight.”

Please understand, I do NOT advocate shooting abortion doctors, or stoning homosexuals, or in any way becoming God’s avenging angels.  That is His and only His prerogative.  But, certainly God is grieved.  He is weeping for what we have made of His creation, and we can weep with Him.

Why is Truth so Illusive?

I woke up this morning thinking about truth and wondering why it is so hard to know it.

I believe the problem began in the Garden of Eden.  The serpent convinced Eve that God had not told her and Adam the truth.  How could he have accomplished that?  Didn’t Adam and Eve know God as their creator?  Didn’t He walk with them in the Garden?  Why would they believe the snake!?  Perhaps, because as human beings we are inclined to believe that what we want to be true is true.

Today we are in a terrible struggle for truth.  Those who desperately wanted Trump to win the election believe that he did win.  They genuinely believe there was fraud in the election, and that if they try hard enough to prove it, truth will win out.  But, those who could not stand the thought of another four years of Trump and, therefore, supported Biden believe that Trump and his supporters are crazy conspiracy theorists, and that the election was properly run and totally valid.  Meanwhile, we have the media telling us what to believe.  We end up buying into what fits our own world view and personal agenda.

But, how on earth, does one discover TRUTH?

I can think of three instances in my life, when someone has told me “truth” in a very private conversation, and then said if I ever quoted them, they would say I was crazy…that they never had said any such thing.  None of these situations were earth shattering, but they did confirm my belief that truth is hard to come by.  All three individuals were professionals in influential positions who had personal reasons for hiding truth.

I find it interesting that Pilate had in front of him ultimate TRUTH, and yet asked the question, “What is truth?”  Christ, because He was, in fact, God in the flesh defined Truth, but Pilate could not see that.  What if he had?  What if he had stopped the whole madness that led to the crucifixion?  Sometimes God allows people to be blind to truth in order to bring about His purposes.  Pilate needed to be blind, because Christ’s death was the means of the salvation of mankind.

I am not predicting outcome, but it is possible that God is allowing blindness on the part of some involved in today’s madness to bring about His purposes in human history.  Actually, I think it is more than possible; I think it is the truth.  So, I am not going to tie myself in knots over which side of the current argument is correct.  I’m just resting in the truth that God is in control. 

There is no other security than His sovereignty.

Come, Lord Jesus

 Earthquakes rumble, seas roar,

Tornadoes swirl and hurricanes rage,

Fires sweep across the forests,

As all Creation groans in pain.

 

Man in his ignorance and apathy

Ignores the fact that he himself

Lives and breathes and has consciousness.

That he is responsible to his Creator.

 

But at His coming, the angels sing

The trees clap their hands.

The stones though inanimate,

Will find their voice and cry out.

 

The crooked will be made straight,

The wrongs will be righted,

Tears will be dried and suffering cease.

There will be peace on earth.

 

Come, Lord Jesus.

Train of Life

 We pull from the station with a bump and a lurch,

Throwing me from my cozy berth,

And the rattle of the wheels on the track sets the beat,

And I try to keep up with my tiny feet.

 

We zoom through my childhood beginning the trip,

And I dance and twirl, and I leap and skip,

And with joyful exuberance, I prance,

Because I can’t resist the rhythm of the dance.

 

There’s pounding on the track, and I feel the heat.

Now the passion of youth sets the beat,

But the train moves on at a steady pace,

And I find myself swept into the maddening race.

 

But, after a time of just waltzing along,

I start to recognize that I am not as strong,

And I find that now I must use a cane,

To keep my balance on this surging train.

 

I see my destination up ahead,

The road has been long, but the light is red,

And I leave the train and the rattling track,

Knowing in my heart, I cannot go back.

 

And the train pulls away to the future bound.,

From the sidelines now, I hear the distant sound,

Of the rumble and the rattle and the clack, clack, clack,

Of the rhythm of the wheels on the Lifeline track.

Are We Obligated to Die at 75?

 Dr. Ezekiel Emanual, who is an adviser to Biden regarding covid, has previously come out with the notion that people really shouldn’t be living past 75.  He believes creativity and productivity decline significantly for most people after this age.   I agree with him that way too much money is spent in trying to stave off the inevitability of death.  But, I don’t think we have an obligation to die at 75 or shortly thereafter.  I can think of many people I know personally who have been and are very productive past 75.

There was a point in my life when I thought that if I was past 70 and needed a pacemaker, I wouldn’t get one.  I am 75 and I am still quite healthy and active, so if I was confronted with the question of a pacemaker at this point, I might do it.  On the other hand, I so wish my mother hadn’t agreed to one at the age of 80.  She was already in frail condition, although we didn’t know the full extent at that point.  For example, we didn’t know that one of her renal arteries was plugged resulting in one of her kidneys being non-functioning.  She had the pacemaker put it.  Shortly after that the circulatory problems in her legs became worse.  They were planning to do surgery on her legs and in the process of testing discovered the non-functional kidney and a partially blocked renal artery on the other side.  They decided they needed to place a stent in the renal artery that was partially blocked before trying to deal with the leg issue.  When they anesthetized her for that surgery, she had a heart attack.  Her blood pressure bottomed out, but the pacemaker kept her heart beating and she survived.  A couple of weeks later, she had a massive stroke, but the pacemaker kept her alive.  She then spent 5 months suffering and requiring total care.  In the end, because the circulatory problem in her legs hadn’t been dealt with, she developed gangrene.  I was caring for her in my home, and I kept her totally doped up on narcotics so that she didn’t feel the pain.  If she had been in a nursing home, there would have been more suffering and huge expense for care of lesser quality than I offered.

My Dad lived to be 90 enjoying woodworking in the basement until the last 2-3 years.  He was only in a nursing home the last 6 days of his life. My father-in-law worked until he was 96, and only required help the last 6 months.  He ran a charity that provided simple irrigations systems to bare subsistence farmers in undeveloped areas of the world right up to those last 6 months.  My husband is 77.  He still runs, plays pickleball and serves on several boards.

I now live in a retirement community, and I can’t believe the productivity and creativity I see around me.  There are some amazing musicians here…people who are still performing and arranging.  There are so many artistic endeavors that a fantastic new arts center is under construction.  There are people who go off-site to work at various charities….one of those is a home for boys who have bombed out of foster care.  An inventors’ club was recently started.  Women in Knitters Anonymous create items for 7 different charities.  Retired ministers go off-site to preach in local churches.  Of course, there are people in the skilled nursing and memory care units or those who sit in their apartments aimlessly, but the place is also a beehive of activity.  Many are still making a significant impact past the age of 75.

I think as we age, we have an obligation to weigh our decisions carefully as to how much medical intervention we seek.  We may not want to ever be on life support, but how many pills would one have to take before they ended up qualifying as “life support?” 

My concern is if we ever reach a point where the government or a panel of its “experts” make decisions for us after we are 75.  Or suppose instead of our thoughts being taken into account, children…even those from whom we may be estranged…get to make decisions.  Women have a right to terminate their unborn children.  Will children ever have the right to terminate their parents? 

Will the government have a right to deny care to those over 75?

Will we be obligated to have a big 75^th birthday celebration because it is planned to be our last?

Vitriol

 The sweet façade sometimes cracks,

And what pours out is vile.

Angry words spew forth

Splashing everyone in sight.

 

The rage felt toward one person,

Turns abruptly to others,

Who stand confused, as the acid

Lands and eats into their souls.

 

The great roiling pot of vitriol

Lies beneath the surface,

Waiting for an opportunity.

Do you feel better afterward?

 

How do you manage to shrug it off?

To feel justified in the rage,

The pain you inflict,

The wounds ever deepening?

 

Do you not know, the searing liquid

Puddles around your own feet,

Bounces back on your own face,

Scars you and those you claim to love?

 

When will you outgrow this?

Will you rage into the grave,

Trying to hurl your burning spit

Into the face of God Himself?

A Puzzling Situation

 As one ages, it is common to see recommendations that mental acuity can be improved or sustained by doing puzzles.  I happen to like puzzles, so it doesn’t take much to convince me.  I enjoy Sudokus and logic problems, but my favorites are words puzzles.  When I discovered that I could get a subscription to New York Times puzzles without having to subscribe to the whole paper I jumped on it.

I typically start my day by doing the Mini-crossword, Crossword, Letter-boxed and Spelling Bee.  I don’t worry too much about the timing of the crosswords and whether or not I beat my previous times.  I try not to look anything up, but occasionally the Crossword has too much that relates to pop culture….names of movies or bands or performers.  I can’t be bothered with a lot of that, so I don’t allow myself to feel guilty for finding that information on the internet.  The Letter-boxed puzzle always recommends how many words to shoot for in solving it.  I challenge myself to do it in one less than the suggested number, and I almost always can.

That brings me to Spelling Bee with which I have a love-hate relationship.  I find it frustrating that it is frequent for me to come up with perfectly legitimate words that are not accepted.  I will type something in, and it is rejected…no points for that!  I will then open another window and check the word by doing a Google search…yup, I’m right, that is a word, and I spelled it correctly.  Why won’t the program accept it? 

I found this so annoying that I emailed the contact at the NY Times and asked about it.  I was informed that they don’t accept words that are part of some very specific body of knowledge.  This explanation doesn’t really satisfy me.  Sure, I come up with words that may be science or medicine related, but often they are words that I think lots of people know or are similar to words that are accepted.

For example…octane is accepted, but not octene.  Muriatic was not accepted, but muriatic acid is used in lots of home renovation projects. Aorta is OK, but not otic.  On more than one occasion the letters available have included Y and O, but yoyo is not OK.  In a total lack of logic, in today’s puzzle “nite” was acceptable, but “tonite” was not.

ARRRRGH!

This might not bother me so much if not for an embarrassing fact.  I can’t let go of the puzzle, until I reach “Genius” level….”Amazing” isn’t good enough for me.  Sad, but true.  If I can’t do it in one sitting, I go back throughout the day when additional words pop in my head until I am satisfied.  Yesterday standing in the line to vote, I suddenly thought of “definitive” which gave me lots of points in yesterday’s puzzle.

 I might be an addict.

Normally I do puzzles first thing in the morning, but today, I went on the Prayer Walk and then worked in the garden to avoid the heat later in the day.  I started the puzzles before lunch, but I was still working on them after lunch.  I actually fell asleep sitting up on the couch with my laptop on my lap, and my hands poised over the keyboard.  When I awoke, I had typed an entire line of the letter “O” and Bill was laughing at me.

Oh, yeah…I’m keeping my brain sharp!

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

When Morning Dawns

 When morning dawns…

The clouds glow with vibrant color,

The world awakes from darkness,

The breeze blows fresh and clean,

The birds break into song.

 

When morning dawns…

The clouds will part and disappear,

The world will cast off darkness,

We will breathe an air refreshed and pure,

We will break into song with the angels.

 

When Morning dawns.

Grandmaster

 I do NOT play chess.  I know the names of the pieces, and at one time I knew how each piece moved, but I have never had any interest in the game.  I grew up watching my uncles staring at a chess board for hours at a time.  When I was quite young, my Uncle Frank informed me that I was a “smart little girl,” and he would teach me.  “No thanks!”  It was clear that the game just moved too slowly to suit me.

 I have two brothers younger than I am, who both played.  One still does and even goes to tournaments.  More power to him.  When my son was little, I played lots of games with him.  We would play softball, ride bikes, and at one time there were 57 board games in the house.  I would play most anything, but I did refuse to play football and chess.  I didn’t like Monopoly, because it sometimes took too long, but I would play it for his sake.

I have been trying to analyze recently why I don’t like chess.  Is it just that it moves so slowly?  I think it also has to do with strategy.  I enjoy strategizing when it has to do with planning something with a group or winning at something where I am playing against myself.  I even enjoy card games as a foursome.  But, using strategy in a head to head against another person seems to have a tinge of manipulation, and I abhor manipulation if it is an effort to one-up another person.

I know of someone who is a grandmaster.  He is patient when the game moves slowly, because he knows he will win in the end.  He does not plan a few moves in advance, but thousands of moves in advance.  He sets up the game not just to win, but for our good.  His manipulation is benevolent.  His opponent doesn’t see the ultimate move coming until it is too late.

Right now, we are in a chess game which, I think, is nearing completion.  We are in the end game.  The Grandmaster of the universe is moving the pieces into position for His glory and our good.  The enemy of our souls doesn’t see the big picture.  He is seemingly winning some individual moves…taking out some pieces…but soon there will be a checkmate and the winner will be obvious.

This is a chess game I can enjoy watching.  I stand in awe.

Lift the Torch

 But now, all you who light fires and provide yourselves with flaming torches, go, walk in the light of your fires and of the torches you have set ablaze.  Isaiah 50:11

 

I lift high the torch of my own accomplishments.

Of my talents,

Of my intelligence,

And great wisdom.

 

As I encounter the winds of life, my torch

Flickers,

Sputters,

Fades to an ember.

 

Criticism by others and self-doubt, leave my torch,

And my soul,

In a sodden

Miserable heap.

 

Compared to the torches of others, my torch

Is but a spark.

Compared to the sun

It is nothing.

 

I stumble in darkness.

 

But, into my hands is placed another torch,

The Light of the World,

He in whom is

No darkness.

 

Lift high the Light!

 

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.  John 1:4

No, Nancy, it is not Mother Earth who is angry!

 Nancy Pelosi says that, “Mother Earth is angry.”

I find it fascinating that instead of indicating that God might be at work, people anthropomorphize “Mother Earth” or “Mother Nature.”  We all know that these mythical beings are not real, but people can be so desperate not to get caught admitting that there may be a God at work, that they try to give thought and emotion to mythical constructs.

The world is currently a mess.  We want to blame everything and everyone rather than realizing that it is God who is angry about our sin.

Wild fires?  Climate change

Hurricanes?  Climate change

The pandemic?  The Chinese

Race Riots?  Law enforcement discrimination

Locusts in Africa?  Probably climate change too.

Explosion in Beirut?  Careless government

Political upheaval?  The Democrats or the Republicans, depending on your perspective

From Hebrews chapter 10:  If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God.  Anyone who rejected the law of Moses died without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses.  How much more severely do you think someone deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood…that sanctified them…? It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

From Romans chapter 2:  …as they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, God gave them over to a depraved mind, so that they do what ought not to be done.  They have become filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, greed and depravity.  They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit and malice.  They are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, arrogant and boastful; they invent ways of doing evil; they disobey their parents; they have no understanding, no fidelity, no love, no mercy.

What we are seeing now is just the beginning.  I suppose for those who don’t believe in God, it seems like I have gone off the deep end and next thing you know, I will be walking around dressed in sackcloth, carrying a sign that says, “REPENT FOR THE END IS AT HAND!”  This post is an attempt to do that virtually.

WAKE UP!

Excerpt from Matthew 24, Christ is speaking to his disciples:  You will hear of wars and rumors of wars but see to it that you are not alarmed.  Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.  Nation will rise against nation…There will be famines and earthquakes in various places.  All of these are the beginning of birth pains…. False Messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive…the sun will be darkened, the moon will not give its light, the stars will fall from the sky…and all the people of the earth with mourn when they see the Son of Man coming…with power and great glory.  Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.  But about that day or hour no one knows…only the Father.  …keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.

If our current situation doesn’t get our attention, I’m not sure what will.   Revelation 8:10 does predict “a great star, blazing like a torch” falling from the sky.  Meteor?  Asteroid?  I don’t think that could reasonably be explained as “Mother Earth” being angry.  Will that wake people up?  I doubt it.  If you don’t want to believe in a sovereign God, there are loads of ways to delude yourself and explain away frightening occurrences.

There is no “Mother Earth.”  There is a God who is sovereign in the affairs of men.  He can take situations which seem truly awful and use them for His glory.  He will bring about His purposes no matter how badly the forces of evil try to prevent them.  God’s mind is not only superior to ours.  It is superior to that of Satan and his cohorts.  When Christ was crucified, the Devil thought he had won.  It wasn’t until the resurrection that he realized that it was God who had won the ultimate victory.

God is trying to get our attention through the circumstances going on around us.  The Devil thinks he is winning.  He is not.  You may think we are not seeing the hand of God…that what we are experiencing is climate change or poor government or a host of other causes.  Don’t be mistaken, God uses such things.  We need as individuals, as a nation, as a human family to come to a place of repentance.

It is, indeed, a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

Trump and the Nobel

 When I woke up this morning and checked the news, I was astonished to see that Trump has been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize.  I looked to make sure that the source wasn’t the Babylon Bee.  When I realized it was one of my regular news sources, I thought, “Oh, Wow!  Here it comes…a deluge of negativity!”

Every time I try to put some comments out there to balance the negativity against Trump, I get accused of being a supporter.  I do NOT like Trump as a person, but I suppose that I am a supporter in the sense that I don’t like to see him accused unfairly, and I think that often happens.

Before Trump was even a candidate for anything, I mentioned him in a blog post I wrote, as an example of ostentatious display of wealth in a world…and even a nation…where poverty exists.  During the primaries, I wrote a post in which I hoped with all my heart that he and Hillary would not be our choices.  But, once the man was president, I thought we ought to give him a fair chance.

I was appalled that no matter how qualified the people he appointed to positions were, the liberal camp found a way to shred them.  I was disgusted to hear him referred to as “the orange one.”  Would liberals have tolerated Obama being called “the black one?”  I tried to point out that when you criticize a person on every little point, you lose your credibility when you criticize them on the larger more significant points.  Yes…criticize him…but do it over something valid and significant.  I had someone “unfriend” me, because I either didn’t explain myself clearly on this point, or he/she didn’t understand what I was trying to say.  Or perhaps, Trump made the person so angry that the lashing out was just irrational.

Trump is a divisive figure.  He is rude, narcissistic and indiscreet.  But, he is not the first president we have had to be rude, even crude. (I have read that LBJ referred to his penis as Jumbo and sometimes displayed it.)  Most people who rise to this level of power are a tad narcissistic.  Most are not so indiscreet.  (Kennedy and Clinton attempted to hide their sexual dalliances.) Most have managed to hide their sins and personality flaws.  Unfortunately, we now have Twitter, and a world full of people, including our president, who think that everything they think (or eat) is of great interest to the rest of the world.  Things tumble out in the moment unfiltered.  Lots of people do this…but lots of people aren’t the POTUS.

The media are not the least bit helpful in gaining an accurate picture of what Trump has actually done.  Currently he is being criticized for saying that war heroes are “losers and suckers.”  We have all heard him refer to people as “losers,” and even disparage John McCain.  I don’t think we have actually heard him refer to our war dead as “losers,” but the liberal media is inclined to believe it.  Meanwhile, conservative media outlets have countered with numerous sources that say this is absolutely not true.  Interestingly, the liberal camp is keeping its source(s) anonymous, while the conservative side is naming theirs.  Truth???  How can we possibly know?

So, how can we know through the media whether or not Trump deserves the Nobel Peace Prize?  He has been nominated by a Norwegian parliament member for brokering diplomatic ties between Israel and the UAE.  This has, heretofore, been barely mentioned in the mainstream media.  They are too busy with the covid pandemic, and the BLM protests and counterprotests, and the California wildfires which are, they assure us, caused by climate change.  Whether Trump actually wins the prize remains to be seen.  The nominator believes he is more deserving than Obama was.  (Gasp!)

I am heartsick over the venom being spewed by both the supporters and detractors of Trump.  He is someone who cannot and will not be ignored.  But, neither party gave us a stellar choice last time, and they aren’t doing so this time either.

Many years ago, when I was an instructor in a school of Nursing, a person was brought in to do group sessions with the students.  I was not privy to what went on there, but I got the impression that the students were encouraged to be open in their criticism of each other.  One of the other faculty members made the comment, “When he is done encouraging them to tear each other apart, who is going to put them back together?”

When we are done tearing each other apart, who is going to put us as a nation back together?  I fear that no matter who wins the upcoming election, the tears in the fabric of our nation will be deeper and wider.  Whether or not Trump wins the Nobel Peace Prize isn’t really the issue.  Who will bring peace to us personally and as a nation?

 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  John 14:27

The Shroud

 On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations, he will swallow up death forever.  The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces...Isaiah 25:7,8

I can see it coming slowly closer.  It drifts toward me.  Sometimes its movement is barely perceptible; other times it seems to descend rapidly.  I know that one day this black sheet will cover and entangle me.  It will impede my movements.  I will not be able to reach out toward my family and friends, because it will bind me.  It will muffle my cries and laughter and whispers and songs, so that no one else can hear them.

The shroud is enormous and all encompassing.  I realize that it will not only envelope me, but all those that I love.  They too will be wrapped and bound in its folds.  I want to protect them, but I do not even know how to save myself from its steady descent toward me.

My mind and soul are filled with dark and depressing images. Is there no help?  I weep in despair and cry out for someone to intercede and stop the inevitable.

But what is this?  By a miracle I do not understand, the shroud begins to retreat!  It is gathered up, wadded up, and cast away by someone whose face radiates love.  He reaches down and with the sleeve of his own garment wipes the tears from my face.  The fabric of death is gone.  The fabric which covers him is dazzling, brilliant white.  For the first time, I see all things clearly, and I bow before him.