Forfeiting Grace

Those who cling to worthless idols, forfeit the grace that could be theirs. Jonah 2:8

This verse strikes a cord with me each time I read it.  I began to write about it the last time I read the Bible through and never finished my thoughts.  I read it again this past week and began pondering it again. 

When put so succinctly, it seems utterly foolish to cling to a "worthless idol" and forfeit grace, but the situation is, of course, much more complicated. Or perhaps, in the real world, much less black and white.  What is a a "worthless idol?"  What is so important to us that we would ignore the grace of God?

One might not recognize that he is clinging to a worthless idol. Life holds many things which seem to be of value, but are really wisps of emptiness. We see others with education, power, fame, material possessions and the admiration of men.  They may seem to "have it all" and be happy. Seeing their smiles, we assume that they are satisfied and have a meaningful existence. And perhaps, they are content and believe they are making an impact on their world.

One might also not realize that he cannot possess worthless idols and grace at the same time. If his hands are full of one, he cannot open them up to be filled with the other.  "No man can serve two masters." (Matthew 6:24)

Being committed to Christ means singleness of purpose, desiring the glory of God above all, giving up our own desires.  It may seem like we are losing something, but it is hard to compare anything to the grace of God.  It makes me sad to think that there are those who think they have something substantial in their hands when it is something that will evaporate.

Pondering

I ponder the “what ifs” of my life,

The wide range of possibilities,

            A broad spectrum

            From disaster

To spectacular.

I recount the “supposes of my life,

The infinite complexities

            Puzzle pieces,

            Some dovetailing,

Others in hopeless tangle.

I indulge in a dream of “if onlys,”

Those happy coincidences

            That propel one,

            Soaring upward,

To grand success.

I shudder at life’s “near misses,”

Those frightening times.

            When something unspeakable

            Was inches

Or seconds away.

I bow in gratitude to Him,

Whose all-powerful hand

            Has in the maze

            Pointed and pushed

And protected.

I wrote this decades ago, and it was published in a denominational magazine in 1985.  It still expresses my feelings about my life and the course it has taken.

Fragility

Hanging by a slender silver thread.

Bound up in a wisp of breath,

Soft and malleable,

Easily distorted or deformed.

A split second can alter its state.

Vibrant energy can be lost,

Into stillness and immobility,

Silence and death.

Exuberance and laughter,

Reduced to a rigid mask,

Potential destroyed,

The future a locked door.

We run through time,

Careless of eternity,

Unable to imagine an end,

Blissfully ignorant of the fragility of life.

Trail of Tears

I just finished reading Trail of Tears:  The Rise and Fall of the Cherokee Nation by John Ehle, a very well-written and documented account.  The author makes use of many original source documents, including correspondence, transcribed speeches and excerpts from legal documents.

I have frequently seen comments on the internet about the ways in which “we” as a nation mistreated the Indians during the early days of our nation’s formation….after all, they were here first.  However, having read this historical book, I now realize how overly simplistic such accusations are.  The situation was much more complex than such statements would indicate.

I have not read widely on the subject regarding other tribes, but the Cherokees and the “Trail of Tears” are frequently cited.  Here are some interesting issues gleaned from Ehle’s book.

*The Cherokees and other tribes with which they interacted were frequently at war with one another, treating each other savagely.  For that matter, even within a tribe, some members were ill-treated.  It is not as though they lived in blissful harmony prior to the arrival of white men.

*Some of the Cherokees willingly sold their land or took bribes to influence their tribe to sell off lands.  Some made themselves quite wealthy in this way, although it was a betrayal of their own people.

*The Cherokees kept slaves.  Prior to the arrival of whites, the slaves were from other tribes.  After the arrival of whites with their black slaves, the Cherokees kept black slaves and treated them as less than human.

*A number of Christian sects sent missionaries to the Cherokees.  These were usually teachers who in addition to religious subjects, taught academic and vocational topics.  The best Cherokee students were sent to boarding schools where they were educated as well as whites.  This resulted in a number of Cherokees becoming lawyers who could represent their tribe in negotiations in Washington.

*The missionary teachers stood with and supported the Cherokees in the efforts to retain their lands.  More than one of these friends of the Indians was arrested by the state of Georgia and jailed for months or years because of their stand.

*The Indian issue was largely a “states rights” issue.  The Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Cherokees and against the state of Georgia in its efforts to oust the tribe.  Georgia ignored the Supreme Court ruling, and Andrew Jackson (who was president at the time) refused to do anything to uphold it.

*Andrew Jackson spoke out of both sides of his mouth.  When he met with representatives of the Cherokees, he would assure them of his respect for them and of his friendship, but then do absolutely nothing to support them.

*The Cherokees tried to develop their own nation modeled after the United States, drawing from the US constitution for their own constitution and setting up a capital city and court system.  The congress of the US would not accept them as a separate nation.  I wonder if they could have achieved more by attempting to become a state.  Georgia originally held all the land over to the Mississippi River, and Alabama and Mississippi were parceled off.  What if there had been a state called Cherokee too?

*The Cherokees had no written language before contact with white men.  They apparently were amazed at the idea that a message could be conveyed without being in face to face conversation.  It was not until exposure to this idea, that one of their own developed symbols for the various sounds in their language and began to record them and teach others to read them.  Eventually the Cherokee nation had its own newspaper.  This became a way of letting the rest of the country know about their plight.  They had many supporters in northern states who were horrified that they were being removed from their lands.

*After years of attempts at negotiations, it became clear to some of the more educated Cherokees that there was no hope of retaining their lands and that leaving voluntarily was going to be advantageous.  However, John Ross, one of the chiefs and a spokesman for the council was opposed to this until the bitter end.  He kept stringing the people on telling them that he could negotiate a treaty that allowed them to retain their lands.  Men who decided to move voluntarily were viewed as traitors.  When the government began forcing the issue, they did it with care for the needs of the tribe.  They were provided with wagons, food and shelter along the way.  They were moved in boats so that the journey was as short and comfortable as possible.  It may not have been a great situation, but deaths occurred mainly in the elderly and infants which would have been expected even if they hadn’t been on the move.  However, when John Ross finally did encourage the move, he contracted with the federal government to arrange for the move himself without federal troops.  He was paid for this and gave the actual contract to his brother.  It was his brother who moved the remaining Cherokees on foot, late in the season with inadequate provisions.  John Ross meanwhile moved his own family by boat diminishing the hardship to himself while his tribe suffered.

*The Cherokees who had moved west earlier had established a government and were living in peace with each other.  They found the land to be good for both agriculture and hunting.  When John Ross arrived he fomented a rebellion against that government.  It could never be proven that he had ordered it, but it was his followers who assassinated some of the tribe who had moved earlier voluntarily.

*The epilogue of the book discusses false information that has been spread.  While it may seem awful that our government forced these people off their ancestral lands, it is also true that members of the tribe were at fault for some of the problems.  The number who died has been inflated and the fact that many deaths were due to the Ross brothers’ actions rather than the federal troops is rarely mentioned.

I am inclined to believe what I have read in this book, rather than what is currently in history textbooks.  The author has taken great care to document his assertions and provides a balanced view of that time in our history.

What Grandpa Gave Grandma

My maternal grandfather was an interesting character, and I loved him tremendously.  We had a special bond, and I felt his loss keenly when he passed away.  I was not quite 12 at the time.  I have many fond memories, but one that always makes me chuckle is the memory of a Christmas gift he gave to Grandma one year.

Grandpa and Grandma had purchased a new car just before Christmas and had agreed that it would be their gift to each other. Grandma had never learned to drive, but this did not prevent her from offering advice, criticizing Grandpa’s driving, and hollering, “Frank!  Look out!” frequently.

When the whole family was gathered at Christmas, Grandpa presented her with a wrapped package.  She protested, “Frank, we said we weren’t giving each other gifts this year.”

He smiled and said, “I know…just open it.”

She unwrapped the package and opened the box to discover half a car.  He had sawed a toy car in two parts front to back and presented her with half.

As she removed it from the box, he said, slyly, “You will notice which half it is.”

It was, of course, the passenger side.

That gift was a joke, but he gave her “gifts” on a regular basis that were not jokes.

Grandma had trouble with her legs…lots of vascular problems:  phlebitis, clots, and sometimes even ulcerations.  Grandpa saw to it that she never had to scrub a floor.  He always did that job, preventing her from having to get down on her knees.

When the family gathered for dinners, which happened not only on holidays, but many Sundays, Grandpa would appear in the kitchen after the meal.  He would stack all the pots, pans and difficult to wash cooking utensils in the roasting pan and disappear to the basement.  The women were left with the silver, glassware and china, while he scrubbed the most difficult things in the stationary tubs downstairs.

These acts of love were not just a gift to Grandma, they were a gift to the whole family, as he modeled what a man should be.  I know young men that think masculinity is defined by their muscles or sexual prowess.  They take off, leaving young women to raise the children they have so carelessly fathered.  What a contrast to my beloved Grandfather who understood that loving a woman means tender care and self sacrifice.

I often say that my Grandfather was a prince.

Coal in My Stocking

Do you know of someone who actually got coal in their Christmas stocking?  If you know me, you do.

When I was little, the items in the stocking were treasured almost as much as larger gifts under the tree.  Fresh fruit was not plentiful in winter, and what was available was too expensive for our family with one breadwinner who was a blue-collar worker.  My stocking always contained at least one orange….a real treat.  There were also chocolates wrapped in foil and nuts in the shell waiting to be cracked.  Sometimes a small toy might be tucked in also.

The joy of items in my stocking was not in my mind when I learned to use scissors.  I believe I must have been 3 and a half, as I started school at the age of 4 years, 4 months and I am fairly certain my scissors misdeeds were a result of being on the loose without enough to keep my mind busy.  I started school at that early age, because I was driving my mother crazy.  The scissors episodes were probably part of the reason she felt like her sanity was teetering on the edge.

There were three scissors infractions, and I only remember two of them.  An aunt had hand-knit a skirt for me, and I hacked a triangular hole in it.  I had no appreciation for the hours of work I destroyed. I don’t remember taking any particular delight in that, but I do remember the fascination I felt cutting the chenille off my mother’s lovely bedspread.  The classic design at the time was wave-like curves running horizontally as the bedspread hung over the edge of the bed.  Cutting along these curves was a challenge and in my little mind was just plain fun!  I still remember sitting on the floor next to my parents’ bed snipping along the wavy lines and feeling pleased with my scissors skills.  It actually didn’t occur to me I was doing anything wrong, until my mother came in and expressed her shock and dismay.

Unfortunately, these incidents were not long before Christmas.  As I excitedly slid my hand into my stocking on Christmas morning I found a brown paper sack containing coal…..no candy, no nuts, no toys and no orange….just yucky black coal.

I was furious.  I stomped to the cellar door and down the stairs.  My Dad came along and opened the furnace door for me.  I pitched the bag of coal into the furnace and stomped back up the stairs.  I have no recollection of what Santa had left under the tree for me that year.  All I remember was the coal and the rage I felt.

I don’t really think it was effective in improving my behavior.  My mother once told me that I was her most difficult child before I started school and her easiest child once I started school.  The coal didn’t help, but keeping my mind busy productively did.  Learning to read opened up a whole world of fascinating adventure….no scissors required.

The Coolest Old Lady...Not

This morning I was waiting for my grandson in a parking lot across from the DMV when I realized I was right in front of a dollar store.  I had been told that this dollar store carried inexpensive marijuana test kits, and I knew someone who wanted one to make sure he/she was clean before applying for a job.

I have purchased drug test kits in drug stores previously.  When I was affiliated with a Christian maternity home, I was designated to check the residents when they were admitted to the home and spot check after that.  I had never used one of the cheap dollar store variety that only checks for pot.  I had to ask where to find the kits.  This made the staff in the store aware of my purchase.

When I came to the check-out, two of the staff got in a discussion as to whether these inexpensive kits were accurate.  This caused a third staff person who was working on a computer with his back turned to me to turn around and look at me.

He said in a surprised tone, “Is that for you?!”

I replied that I was getting it for someone else.

Sounding disappointed he said, “If that was for you, I was going to tell you that you are the coolest old lady I have ever met.”

I told him that I guess I wasn’t cool.

One of the other guys behind the counter then launched into a monologue about his mother (probably a little old lady like me) who had anxiety issues, and her medication stopped working so she now uses pot and it mellows her right out.

I told him that I have a bathtub full of warm water for that purpose.

I can think of lots of other responses I could have made to this discussion….including a self-righteous sermon.

 

I also think it is possible that I am the coolest old lady he has ever met….just not for the reasons he thinks make an old lady “cool.”

So instead of lecturing, I walked away chuckling.