Breathing God's Name

This past Sunday I had an extended phone conversation with my 91 year-old uncle, who is one of the most stubborn people on the planet.  I love my uncle dearly, but he is exceedingly obstinate by his own admission.  I try not to get into arguments with him, because even if I “win,” nothing is accomplished.  He never backs off of his opinion.

But…when he told me that no Christian should say or sing “hallelujah” because it means praise Jehovah, I had trouble keeping my mouth shut.  His reasoning is that Jehovah is not really the one true God, because Jehovah and Yahweh come from the equivalent of the Hebrew letters YHWH, which he claims represent 4 different gods.  His claim is that each of the 12 tribes of Israel had a different god, and that at some point 4 of these god’s initials were combined to form YHWH which becomes Jehovah or Yahweh.  When I pointed out that in my multiple readings of the entire Bible, including the Old Testament history of the 12 tribes of Israel, I have never seen this notion, he changed the subject.

Since then, I have been thinking again about YHWH and Yahweh.  Several years ago while exercising on my NordicTrack, I realized that my heavy breathing sounded a great deal like Yahweh.  I inhaled and said “yah.”  I exhaled and said “weh.”  This was a sort of epiphany for me, as I pondered:

*The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.  Genesis 2:7

*The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life.  Job 33:4

*And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.  Acts 17:25

What if every human breath is intended by God to speak His name?  Yah-weh, Yah-weh, Yah-weh….we pant it when we are exerting ourselves.  We whisper it in our sleep.  It is the first thing we do in life and the last thing we do before death.

I have seen these significant moments close up on multiple occasions.  A baby is born and has not yet breathed.  The baby’s body is flaccid; limbs hang down without any apparent muscle tone.  The baby’s color is white with blue tinges.  It has an almost plastic appearance.  Then the miracle of breath occurs.  Suddenly the baby is pink; arms and legs contract.  The much anticipated cry means the baby is alive.  At the other end of the life span, an older person struggles for breath.  He may stop breathing for a few seconds and then with a gasp begin again.  But finally, there is that one last breath followed by silence.  Color quickly leaves the skin.  The body becomes nothing more than a shell, which once contained a living being.

Yah-weh, Yah-weh,

With every breath I acknowledge you.

The pagan,

The agnostic,

The atheist,

The believer,

None of us can stop breathing,

And with every breath,

We speak your name.

Shortly I am going to quit working.....

Eight days ago my mother-in-law had two seizures.  She had been in a nursing home for the past two months, because of a stroke.  The seizures seemed to indicate a new stroke had occurred.  She was transferred from the nursing home to the hospital.  Between Sunday and Tuesday, she seemed to be making progress toward recovering sufficiently to go back to the nursing home and resume rehab.  We expected the transfer to occur Wednesday morning.


But...
Tuesday afternoon she went into atrial fibrillation.  Her heart rate became way too rapid.  Numerous attempts to bring the rate down with both oral and IV medications were unsuccessful.  Her urinary output dropped significantly in spite of being on IV hydration.   She began having difficulty swallowing.  By Friday, it appeared that she had developed aspiration pneumonia.


Thursday night, my husband and I got out her living will and reread it.  Friday morning, I told the doctor what she had indicated in the living will.  He said that we were now at a point where we needed to decide whether to attempt aggressive treatment or switch to just "comfort measures."


Over the prior two days, she had on several occasions indicated to me that she was tired of fighting and just wanted to go see Jesus.  When my father-in-law arrived on Friday morning, although she had seemed increasingly weak, she stated forcefully, "Now, I am going to tell you something you probably already know.  I am going to see the Lord soon."


Later when the doctor asked for the decision, he said that he just wanted her to be comfortable.  Some of her medications were discontinued and the IV hydration was removed.  Pain medications were available as needed.


Late Friday she said to me, "Shortly I am going to quit working."


I have pondered that sentence.  Because she has experienced some confusion, I could imagine that she thought she was a young mother who had spent the day tending to her children, doing the laundry, working in the garden and a host of other tasks.  She had worked hard all day and was about ready to sit down and relax.  I could also imagine that she knew that she was in her nineties and living in a worn and fragile body.  She was so, so tired and needed to give up the fight and rest in the arms of Jesus.  Either way her opinion on what needed to happen was clear.


Family arrived to say goodbyes late Friday and on Saturday.  We brought a keyboard into her room and played and sang old hymns of the church that were her favorites on Saturday evening and Sunday.  Sunday afternoon we decided that some of the family members were in need of decent sleep.  The plan was for my husband and me to stay with her until 2 AM Monday morning and then my husband's two brothers would arrive and take the next shift.


Shortly after 11 PM on Sunday, she decided she had worked long enough and hard enough and it was time to quit.  She had been breathing very rapidly for several hours.  Finally and mercifully, two quick gasps were followed by silence.  She went to heaven for a much deserved rest.


Her work is done.


I am grateful for her life and for the rest she now has because of her trust in the Savior.

Perspective and Perception

I have been reading a book written by someone known to me.  The author is not a close friend, but is an acquaintance.  A mutual acquaintance made the comment that 60% of the book is true.  I know that neither of these people would intentionally lie about anything, so how can one present the contents of the book as true, and the other say that only 60% is true?


We all interpret what we experience in life within our own context.  We bring our unique past background to each new situation.  Two people can be in the same place at the same time living through the same moments together and cast those moments in completely different lights. Witnesses to a crime can "see" different things.  Family members can remember family events differently.  Someone recently told me that she and her brother had read the same article and come away with very different conclusions.  An ant crawling around in an oriental rug has a much different perspective than a person standing looking down on it.  Hence, they have different perceptions.


Several years ago, I had a very painful experience.  I was verbally attacked by someone whom I had considered to be a close friend and coworker in a volunteer setting.  The person had for nearly 10 years repeatedly complimented me and expressed gratitude for my input on a board on which we served.   Within a very brief period of time, there was a dramatic change in our relationship.  I sensed a wall had been erected between us.  Shortly after this, the person told me that I had spent the last nearly 10 years undermining him, and that my input had been destructive.  When I questioned how he could be saying that when he had previously complimented me and thanked me, he said, "Well...I don't think I was lying."


Clearly there was a change in perspective which altered his perception of our interactions.  At the time, I said to my husband, "It is as though he has picked up someone else's glasses and is now looking at me through those glasses rather than his own."


What is my point?  I have four of them.
1.  We need to be aware of our own biases.  What are we bringing to the interpretation of a situation?
2.  We need to be forgiving.  Those who see a situation differently than we do may well be doing the best they can within their context.
3.  There is such a thing as "true" truth.  I do believe in absolutes.  However, we need to be careful not to mix up truth with our opinions.
4.  We need to be grateful for the glasses through which God looks at us.  
     Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.  Isaiah 1:18


The truth about each of us is that we are flawed and sinful.  But God's perception is that we are sinless, because his perspective is through the sacrifice of His Son.  And that is true truth!

The End of the World?

Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.  No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.  Matthew 24:35-36
Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.  Matthew 25:13


Over the past few weeks, there has been considerable hype about the world ending today.  A member of a fringe religious group has predicted the Rapture on May 21 (today), and the world completely ending in October.  He has based his predictions on mathematical calculations which are in turn based on rather arbitrary dates he has come up with for the Flood and the Crucifixion.  He claims that his predictions are based on scripture.  Huh?  Has he never read the verses in Matthew which I have quoted above?


It seems to me that these statements made by Christ and recorded in Matthew are very clear.  It doesn't matter how man applies his knowledge in an attempt to figure this out.  Only God knows!


I can think of dozens of reasons why it would be really fine with me if the Rapture occurred today.  There are lots of unpleasant things I wouldn't have to concern myself with any longer.  That would be rather nice.  Also, I really would like to see all of the wrongs in the world righted.  I am grieved that there is so much hatred and evil in the world. Men seem to be able to come up with an infinite number of ways to be inhumane.  


But....
The Bible is clear that it is our job to be faithful to what God has called us to do without knowing when the final day and hour will come.  We are told to be watchful and always ready.  That makes total sense.  The world may not end for all of us today, but it will end for some.  Some of those who die today will be expecting and, perhaps, even longing for death.  Others will be taken totally by surprise.


I am ready for the world to end today, but I was ready yesterday, and I expect to be ready tomorrow.


Even so, come, Lord Jesus.  Revelation 22:20

Another Way to be Rude

Cells phones provide yet another way to be rude.


Last evening while I was visiting my mother-in-law at the nursing home, my cell phone rang.  I didn't recognize the number, but answered the phone.  There was a great deal of noise and conversation in the background.  In fact the caller seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with someone when I answered.  I couldn't tell what she was saying to me and what she was saying to someone else.   I asked who was calling and didn't understand her response at all.  She hung up.


About a minute later the phone rang again and it was the same routine....lots of extraneous noise and conversation.  This time she asked for "Mike."  I told her she had the wrong number.  She then let loose with a string of angry words.  About the only one I understood was "slut."  I said, "You have the wrong number.  You don't know me."  We both hung up.


A couple of minutes later, I received a text:  "Please im srry for my attitude u yelledd at me and im havin a bad day."


Hmmm....the only reason I raised my voice was that she didn't seem to understand me, and I didn't think she could hear me over all the background noise.  It seemed she still didn't understand that she had called a wrong number, so I texted back:  "I have no idea who u r."
She then responded: "Don't call the cops."


Oh, boy...how could I call the cops on someone I don't even know?
I texted back:  "Don't worry.  I don't know who you are.  You called a wrong number."
She then texted:  "ya, ok"


So....I don't think she still believed me.  I am imagining that Mike is a person of interest for her, and that she thinks I am keeping her from Mike.  I don't know whether she thinks I'm his mother or his girlfriend.


I hope she doesn't call again.


I had an uncle who hated the telephone.  He said it was an awful invention that allowed for intrusion into you life by anyone at anytime.  He didn't live to see cell phones, which are exponentially worse!

Oedipus at Colonus

Getting back to the “Great Books,” I just finished Oedipus at Colonus.  Blind and wretched Oedipus is being led about by his daughter Antigone, and they end up at Colonus, just outside of Athens.  Oedipus begs King Theseus of Athens to protect him and his daughters (Ismene has also joined him).  Oedipus retells his story convincing King Theseus that his sins were unintentional and that he, therefore, deserves the sympathy and help of Theseus.  To this Theseus agrees….and just in the nick of time, for shortly Creon arrives and snatches Antigone and Ismene away.  Theseus and his men pursue and return the girls to their father.

After this, Polyneices, Oedipus’ elder son arrives and tries to convince his father to return home to Thebes.  Oedipus refuses, being convinced that Polyneices means him harm, and that his destiny is at Colonus.

Oedipus believes that his death is impending and that he is meant to die in a place and manner unknown to anyone but Theseus.   This is to bring peace and blessing on Theseus and his kingdom.  He and Theseus exit out of the view of Antigone, Ismene and the local elders.  When Theseus returns Oedipus is not with him.  Theseus will not reveal the location of his tomb.

Interesting passages:

Oedipus:  ‘Tis little to lift age, when youth was ruined.  By this he means that having had his early years ruined by tragedy he didn’t see coming and couldn’t prevent, being exalted in old age has little meaning.  I don’t think I agree with this.  Salvation is still salvation, even if it is at the stroke of midnight.

The chorus:  No man is visited by fate, if he requites deeds which were first done to himself; deceit on the one part matches deceits on the other, and gives pain, instead of benefit, for reward.  Seeking revenge usually turns out badly!  Strange how centuries later, men have to keep relearning this principle.

Oedipus:  And, had these daughters not been born to be my comfort, verily I had been dead, for aught of help from thee (spoken to Polyneices).  Now, these girls preserve me, these my nurses, these who are men, not women, in true service:  but ye are aliens, and no sons of mine.  Well, here’s something that is almost universally true in present times.  Generally, it is the daughters who provide care to aging parents, not the sons.  There are, of course, exceptions, but the role of caregiver typically falls to the oldest or geographically nearest daughter.

Messenger:  But by what doom Oedipus perished, no man can tell, save Theseus alone.  No fiery thunderbolt of the god removed him in that hour, nor any rising of storm from the sea, but either a messenger from the gods, or the world of the dead, the nether adamant, riven for him in love, without pain.  For the passing of the man was not with lamentation, or in sickness and suffering, but, above mortal’s, wonderful.  So after a life of agony, Oedipus passed through death and beyond without pain and suffering.  I don’t know of anyone who wants to go through pain and suffering.  We all hope for a sudden and painless end.  The problem is that most of us don’t get our wish.  It seems appropriate that given the suffering of his early life, Oedipus should have a more peaceful end.

But, this is just a story.  

I wonder where my ring is...

My grandfather was one of my favorite people in the entire world.  I adored him.  He adored me and called me "Stink Cheese."  Shortly before my tenth birthday (at least, I think it was my tenth), I confided something in him.


I suppose I had just recently learned about birthstones and figured out that mine was the diamond.  So, I said to my grandfather, "You know, I am never going to have my birthstone until I am all grown up."
"Why?" he asked.
"Well, my birthstone is a diamond, and I don't suppose I'll have one until I'm a grown lady and get engaged."


I honestly wasn't fishing.  I was just sharing a thought that was rattling about in my little girl brain.  I had no idea that my grandfather would ever consider buying me a diamond.  I assumed they were super-expensive.


On my birthday as Grandpa handed me a small wrapped package, Grandma declared that this was all his doing.  I opened the box and found another box inside....and another inside of that.  I don't remember how many boxes I opened before I came to a very, very small box.  Inside was a ring with a yellow gold band and a tiny diamond in the center of a square white gold setting.  It was nothing more than a diamond chip, but it might as well have been 10 carats.


I can't begin to describe how precious that ring was to me, especially when my grandfather died just before my twelfth birthday.  I only wore it for special occasions.  As I grew, I had to begin wearing it on my pinkie finger.  I never put it on without thinking of him and the special bond he and I had shared during my early years.


When I was about eighteen and living in the dormitory of a nursing school in the Chicago area, a woman came into the dorm and went from room to room stealing items of value.  Many of the students lost money.  From me she took my dearest personal possession....my tiny diamond ring.  She apparently was expert at scanning a jewelry box and picking out items of value.  She also took a locket that had special family meaning, but it was the loss of the ring that broke my heart.


After my mother passed away, and I was given her ring, my loss came back to me.  I thought how incredible it would have been to be able to wear my own engagement ring, my mother's ring, and my grandfather's gift.  It would have been a visual reminder of  the continuity of family love.


I have no idea why I thought about the ring this morning, but I am wondering where it is.  I hope it hasn't been lost between floor boards or accidentally discarded.  I hope some young girl is actually wearing it and enjoying it.  I hope that it means more to her than the monetary value, and that when she looks at it, she thinks of the person who gave it to her with great love.