My Early Life of Crime

Last night at church, the pastor made the comment that if you have ever told a lie, you are a liar; and if you have even stolen anything, you are a thief.  His point was that we are all guilty before God.  I certainly agree with that premise.  I know I have lied in my lifetime, although it is always my intent never even to tell what someone might call “a little white lie.”  I thought to myself, that I was unaware of ever stealing anything….then I remember that my career as a thief began very early in life.

When I was less than six, there were multiple times when we temporarily moved in with my mother’s parents.  Sometimes the reason was that we were between houses.  Sometimes my grandmother was ill, and we moved in so that my mother could care for her.  In any event, I was well acquainted with my grandparents’ neighborhood, and I am sure most of the neighbors knew me.

I was very little…may about 3 when I visited a neighbor regularly who had grandchildren of her own.  This meant she had a supply of toys which I enjoyed.  My favorite item at her house was a dirty, ratty, beat-up old doll, which for reasons no one quite understood, I fell in love with and called Becky.

One day after visiting there, I returned home to Grandma’s house in possession of Becky.  I hadn’t exactly stolen her, as I had left my beautiful new doll in her place.  My mother was horrified that I had stolen Becky and marched me back to the neighbor’s house to return her.  The neighbor lady told my mother that if I loved that doll enough to leave my lovely new doll in her place, then I certainly could keep it.  I think the new doll went back home with me too.  But, nothing compared to Becky.

Becky was so loved and played with so vigorously that she eventually became what my mother considered to be a health hazard, so she put her in the garbage.  I dug her out of the garbage.  I don’t remember all of this, but apparently, a cycle of in the garbage and retrieved from the garbage went on for some time.  When I was much older, my mother admitted that she had finally dismembered Becky, to get rid of the filthy thing.  I’m sure if I had known this at the time, my heart would have been broken.  My mother was not in the least a hard-hearted person, so I guess she must have been desperate. 

Fortunately, this did not set me on a path of crime in general and thievery in particular!

A Veteran's Day Story for My Grandchildren

During the Revolutionary War, when the American Colonies were trying to establish their independence from England, the American soldiers were not career soldiers.  They were farmers who had guns and who answered the call to protect this land.

Your great, great, great, great, great, great, great Grandfather was Sergeant Nathan Chapin.  He was born in Springfield, Massachusetts in 1735, so during the Revolutionary War he was in his forties.  On July 5, 1777, he was captured by the British while fighting in the Battle of Ticonderoga.  He and other prisoners were ordered to go to Crown Point (about 10 miles away) to cut hay.  They were given provisions which included scythes for cutting the hay, and for whatever reason, they were also supplied with rum.

They were only accompanied on this work detail by one guard, who apparently liked rum, and they were very generous with him.  He had so much rum that he fell asleep, and they were able to escape.

A group of nine men, guided by Sgt. Nathan Chapin and using only the moss on the trees as a compass, found their way back to Springfield (a distance of about 200 miles) to the great joy of their family and friends.  Sgt. Nathan Chapin lived to be 95 years old.

Sgt. Nathan Chapin was the son of Japhet Chapin and his wife Thankful Dickinson.

The genealogy is:

Sgt. Nathan Chapin (1735-1830)

Deacon Japhet Chapin (1762-1833)

Deacon Japhet Chapin (1796-1888)

Lawson Chapin (1833-1864)

William Chapin (1860-?)

Willard Chapin (1895-1983)

Richard Chapin (1917-2014)

William Chapin (1943-still living)

Your mother/father

You

The information for this story comes from The Chapin Book published in 1924.  It lists the descendants of Deacon Samuel Chapin who arrived in the Massachusetts Colony in approximately 1632.

Ezra's Prayer

Poor Ezra is absolutely devastated by what he has learned.  Years earlier the Jewish people had been hauled off into exile.  Jehovah had allowed this as punishment for turning to other gods and failing to worship Him as the one true god.  Ezra and a small contingent of his fellow Israelites have been allowed by King Artaxerxes of Persia to return to Jerusalem to rebuild the temple.

Ezra has learned that those returning to their homeland have begun to intermarry with the locals.  This was strictly forbidden, not because God is opposed to “true love,” but because intermarriage led to worship of the god of the spouse and forsaking worship of Jehovah.

Ezra is horrified that the sin that caused them to go into exile has reared its head among the returning remnant.  His prayer is recorded in Ezra 9, and ends with:

                O Lord, God of Israel, you are righteous!  We are left this day as a remnant.  Here we are before you in our guilt, though because of it not one of us can stand in your presence.

As I look at the culture around me, and at what we the people of the United States have become, I feel that we should echo this prayer:

                O Lord God…you are righteous!  Here we are before you in our guilt…..

It is devastating to realize the decline in our culture which has happened in my lifetime, and that these are changes which many in our country applaud.  We want our “rights,” freedom to choose our own destiny, freedom to give a higher priority to our desires than we give to God Himself, freedom to shake our fist in His face…..and that is terrifying.

In Romans 1:18-32, there is a description of what happens to a culture which rejects God so repeatedly and thoroughly that He gives up on them.  Here is where we are, my fellow Americans.

                Since they did not think it worthwhile to retain the knowledge of God, he gave them over to a depraved mind, to 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 are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless.  Although they know God’s righteous decree that those who do such things deserve death, they not only continue to do these very things but also approve of those who practice them.

It does not matter who wins the coming election.  We as a nation are in a lot of trouble.

                Here we stand before you in our guilt……

Our Eyes Are Upon You

Jehoshaphat was one of the good guys among kings of Judah.  He removed objects of idol worship from the land, sent priests throughout the land to teach the people God’s commandments and how to properly worship him, and consistently sought the advice of godly prophets.  Much of his reign was peaceful.

However, at one point, an army consisting of members of three different surrounding nations advanced to make war with him.  Jehoshaphat’s army was smaller and no match for his enemies.  In II Chronicles 20, his prayer on this occasion is recorded.  “All the men of Judah, with their wives and children and little ones, stood there before the Lord” in the temple in Jerusalem and listened to Jehoshaphat’s prayer, as he pleaded for God’s help.

His prayer ends with this sentence: 

We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.

This seems so appropriate to me today.  I am dealing with some situations personally in which I really don’t know what to do.   It also seems that we as a nation currently don’t know what to do about numerous issues, not the least of which being the upcoming election.

Jehoshaphat believed a prophet who declared there would be deliverance without the Judean army having to fight.  As Jehoshaphat led the people in worship, some of the priests stood up and began to sing praises to God.  Men were appointed to go out at the head of the army declaring, “Give thanks to the Lord, for his love endures forever.”

As they went into battle the next day, they discovered the opposing armies were dead.  They had turned on each other and wiped each other out.  The army of Judah did not have to fight, because the battle was God’s.

So how about this for a motto and a way to begin every day?

We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.

Tired....but not Miserable

Today as I was out running some errands, I was thinking of difficult situations we currently are facing….family issues that I don’t wish to air here.  But of course, family issues are those which can be most painful and cause sleepless nights.  Last night, I was still staring at the ceiling at 2:20 AM.  I stirred long enough to see the clock at 4:30 and then woke up at 7:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep.  Lots on my mind.

I was discussing things with the Lord while I was driving this morning, and I thought of the statement by Paul in I Corinthians 15:19...If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.

I do understand what he means, but I also think the reverse is true.  If I only have hope of heaven, what am I to do now in order to get through the difficulties of life?  If I don’t have the presence of Christ now, I am also quite miserable.

I did not accept Christ as my personal Savior and the Lord of my life just to escape hell and have assurance of eternity with Him.  I expected His presence to begin immediately, and of course, it did.  With each troublesome situation in life, there is an assurance of His love and care for me.  I believe He intends all things for my ultimate good….even when they may seem in the moment to be “bad.”

Two days ago, I read II Chronicles 16:9   For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.

Now there is a wonderful promise.  God’s eyes are constantly scanning the earth purposefully looking for those who desire to serve Him and providing them with strength.  I have hope both now and for eternity and no reason to be miserable.  I may be tired, but I’m not miserable.

How many old ladies still have their favorite stuffed animal?

I wonder how many old ladies still have their favorite stuffed animal from their toddler years.  I still have my Scotty dog….he is an awful old mess, but I still have him.

When he was new, he was fuzzy and white.  Because he was a Scotty, he wore a plaid tam on his head.  I don’t remember if his collar was plaid or solid red.  Best of all, he had a music box that played “Oh, where, oh, where, has my little dog gone?” 

I had other stuffed animals, but Scotty was my favorite.  He was hugged and loved throughout my childhood.  After suffering that abuse, he held the place of honor on my bed each day throughout my teen years.  Eventually, the metal edge of his music box wore a hole in his side.  Since the music box no longer worked, I decided to take it out.  I carefully made the slit large enough to remove the box, stuffed the hole with cotton and sewed him back up.

Scotty went off to nursing school and college with me and always sat on my bed during the day.  I actually think I slept with him until I got married.  Our first bed had a bookcase headboard, and he sat there for years.

For some reason, I thought about him when I woke up this morning.  Where did I put him?  As soon as I rolled out, I went looking and remembered he was now on the bed in the guest room.

So here he is…..70 years old, no fuzz left, scarred from his music box surgery, hat long gone, but he still has both of his red button eyes.  

I’m chuckling over the thought of taking him with me to the nursing home someday.

My Favorite Holiday

One evening this past week, I was feeling lazy and uninspired at supper time, so my husband suggested we go to the sub shop in the neighborhood.  We had just settled into a booth with our subs, when a young couple passed on the way to their table.  I heard only a snatch of conversation which went something like this:

Guy:  My favorite holiday is Halloween.

Girl:  I like Christmas.

Guy:  Christmas sucks.  I like Halloween and you have to go along with me on that, because it’s my favorite.

I had a pang of sadness.  It didn’t spoil my appetite for the sub, but it did make me sad for a couple of reasons.

One….it sounded like she was supposed to participate in his excitement over Halloween, but he might not reciprocate at Christmas.

Two…he clearly doesn’t understand the significance of Christmas.  I guess the commercialization of Christmas “sucks.”  Maybe Santa was never good to him, and he never got what he wanted for Christmas as a kid.  Maybe he doesn’t like all the twinkling lights and good cheer, or maybe he’s been trampled in Walmart.

I, on the other hand, love Christmas and everything about it.  The idea that the eternal God stepped into time with a plan to redeem me is beyond my understanding.  I delight in every possible way to celebrate that.  I enjoy the decorations and the special foods.  I absolutely love buying gifts for my family.  I put a lot of time and effort into picking things I think they will enjoy.  If they want money, that’s OK.  I still give them homemade cookies too.  I eagerly anticipate getting cards…especially those with letters catching me up on the lives of friends I don’t see often.

AND

I love the music.  I am sad that I can’t sing anymore.  For decades one of my main joys at Christmas was to go caroling.  If there was no group going, I coerced a few family members and friends into going with me to sing to someone.  My heart was singing…..Oh, let’s be joyful and express it.  Jesus came!

Now as to Halloween, I know there are Christians who think it is evil and pagan and no Christian should celebrate it.  I have no problem with kids dressing up and having an excuse to get candy.  I still enjoy carving a pumpkin.

But, I am so sad for anyone whose heart isn’t just filled to overflowing at Christmas.  I don’t even mind the crowds in stores and all the hustle and bustle.  All I care about is that Jesus came.  If the angels were excited and joyful, I can be too.

No bah humbugs here.