Jesus – FROM THE SHOE

“Trust God” – A Testament to My Mother’s Quiet Faith

“Trust God” was all that was written on a little note my mother sent me in June 2006.

It had been a stressful three weeks. I was in the middle of a divorce and money was scarce. Proceeds from the sale of our little house in San Pablo would alleviate some of this stress. Finally an offer was made and escrow was set to close mid-June. I had to borrow money from my parents and even the realtor to get to COE. (Mind you, I was paying for two houses at the time.)

Over the Memorial Day weekend, me and the kids just hung around the house we had rented near our old house. Maybe some jaunts to the pool in Rodeo were on our schedule, I don’t remember. But, of course, late Friday on a holiday weekend, an abscess on one of my molars began to pain…that and the stress of divorce, caring for ten kids (who were great, by the way, during this sad time), anxious for the sale of the house, and having very little money….the toothache was a bale of straw on the proverbial camel’s back.

I managed by sheer grit to get a hold of a dentist and persuaded her to prescribe some antibiotics without having to go into the office…remember it was late Friday on a holiday weekend. You all remember the stuff that happens with kids on holiday weekends. Relief was 24 hours away. Hallelujah! But the camel’s back was getting to the breaking point.

Fast forward two weeks, tooth was better, school was out…we were waiting for the sale to close. The day before, no lie, the buyer backed out. I was devastated. I had no financial recourse…no way to pay bills or feed these kids. My soon-to-be ex husband barely provided anything. I had to ask my parents for more help. The camel’s back was breaking.

My mother was not a prolific writer like my father. When I was in Belgium many years before, I received a little card from her with about three sentences and a plain salutation, “Mom”. At this difficult time, she likewise sent me a little card…no greetings, no salutation, just two words in her beautiful cursive handwriting. Two words she lived by, two words that helped her through her tough times, two words which elevated my depth of despair to a fledgling faith where I ascended into a cleft of peaceful resignation and confidence.

Two weeks later, in a rare moment of taking the bulls by the horn, I approached my realtor, told him to reduce the price and if the house doesn’t sell by September, I’d move back there. There was an offer the next day…and escrow closed successfully in August. Reprieve. The camel’s back didn’t break.

It was my great privilege to accompany my mother to Rome ten years earlier. There I saw her faith fully animated in the ancient cathedral of St. Peter’s, on the cobblestone roads of the Appian Way, in the dark and dusty catacombs of St. Callistus and in the hurried visit to the Sistine Chapel. She was able to see her beloved sculpture, “The Pieta” as well as glimpses of Pope John Paul II. This simple faith, the Christian Faith, has been expressed, by not only my mother, but by billions of believers, over the centuries in magnificent works of art, architecture and adulation to the glory of God, the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. And I enjoyed watching her delight those ten days in Rome.

So, today is her birthday and in her honor, I write this testament to her simple, yet powerful faith, a faith (along with her prayers, no doubt) that bore me up on eagle’s wings when I had been dashed to the ground. And I commend to my children and my grandchildren, that they too, follow my mom’s example and “Trust God” not only at desperate times, but at all times.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5,6

Happy Birthday, Mom…tell Dad hello. We miss you both very much.

“Listen to A Picture”

I love photography. I love it when I get an image just right. A great photo or a painting or even a film can evoke beauty, inspiration or life changing actions. Even sculptures can tell a story. My favorite sculpture (which I’ve written about here) is Michelangelo’s Moses. In Bible College, the professor explained that the strength of the figure and the intensity of Moses’ gaze were because he was looking into the Promised Land into which he was not allowed to go. Now that’s a powerful image.

I can think of two images in particular that had great power; one, a horrifying photo of a mother weeping over the bodies of five of her children after they perished in a Turkish earthquake back in the ’80’s. I can’t even post it because it is so heartbreaking, even more so now that I’ve had children. This photo moved me tremendously and to understand that grief is universal, that everyday there is loss, death and calamity

The second image is the complete opposite.

It was 2017 after the Super Bowl. Of course, Tom Brady not only was in it, but the Patriots went on to win it. For Tom’s mom, it was the first game of the season she attended because she had been battling cancer all season. I looked all over the internet for the image, but it has been removed. It was in the throes of champion joy that Tom looks at his mom with his million dollar smile with great love and her face is full of so much pride, joy and love. It’s a beautiful photo and powerful image of love, resilience and joy.

Images impact emotions faster and can be more powerful than words. Henri Nouwen, when he visited a friend in France in 1983, first saw Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son. His friend asked him, “Do you like it?”

I kept staring at the poster and finally stuttered, “It’s beautiful, more than beautiful…it makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time…I can’t tell you what I feel as I look at it, but it touches me deeply.”

Henri Nouwen was so moved by the painting that he eventually went to St. Petersburg to see the original himself.

Rembrandt’s embrace remained imprinted on my soul far more profoundly than any temporary expression of emotional support. It had brought me into touch with something within me that lies far beyond the ups and downs of a busy life , something that represents the ongoing yearning of the human spirit, the yearning for a final return, an unambiguous sense of safety, a lasting home.

Nouwen went on the write his famous, The Return of the Prodigal Son, because of his encounter with a powerful image. Speaking of the Prodigal Son, the title of this blog is taken from one of my favorite sermons of Thru the Bible’s J. Vernon McGee. It too is titled Listen to A Picture. You can listen to it here.

This blog is about a recent “image” I saw. It wasn’t a photo, painting or sculpture, but it was a live illustration in a sermon. The sermon series at my church is covering the Sermon on the Mount. Last Sunday’s sermon was about the Lord’s Prayer, the “Our Father” as we called it growing up in the Catholic Church.

As the pastor gave his sermon, he did something so simple, so sublime, so unassuming…yet very, very powerful. As he was talking about “Our Father Who is in heaven”, he called his young daughter to the stage and she happily jumped into his arms. He paused and let that image sink into our minds and said, “This is what our relationship with the Father looks like.” He held her firmly with his arm and she beamed as she looked into his face. And he beamed right back into hers. The illustration lasted a few minutes, she beamed the whole time. She was in her daddy’s arms, safe, secure and loved. WOW!

Now, I know that God is my Father, intellectually, and I know I’ve been adopted into the family of God by receiving Christ into my life through faith…but as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name. I know that…but to see this powerful image of a loving father and happy child…sometimes that is not a reality in my walk with the Lord. I am fearful. I doubt. I do not trust the strong Arm that holds me. And I am certainly not always smiling. I’ve got some serious adjustments to make.

What does this image, this sermon illustration want us to hear? It wants us to hear, to know that we are beloved children of the Father, we are all kinda His favorites. That we have been legitimately adopted into His family through Christ, (that’s how great the Gospel is). And that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God…

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.

Even the prodigal son was still a son in the pigpen.

I think an obstacle to returning to the strong arms of our Heavenly Father is our misunderstanding or misconception of what a father is. Some of us have had difficult relationships with our own dads, and there are residual wounds. Some of us have never been held like the pastor’s daughter was, securely and lovingly. It is foreign, even uncomfortable.

But…this is not without remedy. God really can heal those wounds and replace bitter experiences with new hope. I think as we, like the prodigal son, make our way back to the Father from whatever pigpen we’ve been in – fearfulness, anxiety, unbelief as well as a host of other sins – we will begin to bask in more of that Father’s love that was illustrated by the pastor and his daughter, and we will “rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice” as Paul wrote from a Philippian prison.

The Best Christmas Gift Ever

I’ve gotten wonderful gifts over the course of my life. The births of my ten children – my ten best days, my ten best gifts – Gifts from God. Then the grandkids…more best gifts, one coming a day before my birthday. A Christmas child in ’95 and a Christmas grandchild in ’23. (Second and third best Christmas gifts.) A bike one Christmas long ago when I was in third grade, my father and mother remembered. A vacuum…the first Christmas of my marriage (that’s what I wanted, it was awesome). A sculpture of a mama hare and her ten little bunnies…a wonderful gift from a true friend. All these and many more I am grateful for. However, the best Christmas Gift I received, the best Gift I received in my entire life was the One I received forty-five years ago less than ten days before Christmas 1979.

I was raised Catholic. I thought I was a pretty good Catholic, I loved the traditions and rituals of the Catholic Church. I learned basic theology in my CCD class at St. Eugene’s in Santa Rosa. Do unto to others as you would have them do unto you, don’t steal, don’t lie, be kind to animals…all from our little CCD study book which I still have. A good roadmap.

But there was something missing, I was still searching. Being raised Catholic did give me a good foundation for faith. I never not believed there was a God. I had no problem sitting at the cliffs near our Daly City house and imploring the Creator of the winds, the waves and the wonder of the ocean to reveal Himself to me perhaps like Bernadette or the children in Fatima or even Mary. But, alas, no. He revealed Himself in this way.

In 1978, I worked at a real estate office in Half Moon Bay during the Fall. It was wonderful, but lonely. Interest rates in ’78 were climbing toward 20%, subsequently, there were very few sales. The phone rang maybe twice a day. But my boss, Dick Stahl, an old friend of my dad’s, wanted me there and paid me to man the phones. So during the long hours between calls I read the Lord of the Rings and other books, but I mainly read the Bible, especially the Book of Revelation. I didn’t understand it at all. But I read it, I knew it was an important book. And those hours of reading whetted my appetite for more.

Fast forward through 1979, partying was getting wearisome, I had no real direction in my life and I was not making good decisions. I knew I needed to get it together, but how? Late that year, my best friend started going to this little church that met at the YMCA in Stonestown. She asked me to come along. Another true friend. I’m so glad I did.

I went to the service and enjoyed it. At the end, an invitation to faith was given. I remember clearly, Eric Sorenson had preached and was giving the invitation. He said, “If you wanted Christ in your life, raise your hand and we’ll pray for you.” I’m sure he quoted Revelation 3:20, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat, and he with me.” I struggled for what seemed like a long time…I had faith, I believed, I always believed. But had I invited Christ into my heart? No, I never had. Do I need to do this? Yes, I do need to do this, I want to do this. So I raised my hand up high, and asked kinda loudly, “Pray for me.” Startled Eric looked at me, but then nodded. I wasn’t supposed to say “Pray for me”. Oh well, here I am, forty-five years later, still raising my hand in different ways, “Pray for me.” The only consistent thing in my life. My best decision.

What brought me to that decision? It wasn’t the love of God, it wasn’t the superior teaching or even the rich history of the Church (albeit marred a bit)…it was that Jesus is the Truth. I was seeking for truth, the Truth. And He said in John 14:6, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one comes to the Father except through Me.” That is why I came to Christ. And His love was a Blessed By-Product which took a long time for me to understand and accept. I am still learning to this day what it means to be loved unconditionally.

My conversion took place during the tail end of the Jesus Revolution. The main verse at that time wasn’t so much John 3:16, but John 3:3, “Jesus responded and said to him (to Nicodemus), ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless someone is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’” I was born again on December 16, 1979, my spiritual birthday, and for the past forty-five years, I have strove to follow Him. I have not always done so. But He continues to forgive me, stand me up, dust me off and straighten me out. He has been a faithful Friend, a patient Savior and a compassionate Father. He is the Gift that keeps giving. And on top of all of the benefits following Christ renders in this life, true joy, true peace, true love, there is also eternal life with Him. Amen.

So, dear reader, maybe you believe, but haven’t made that jump, opened that door or decided to give your life to Christ. Maybe you thought He was there all along, but aren’t sure, like me. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 6:1, “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”, if you want Christ in your life…raise your hand and receive the Best Christmas Gift Ever and “…be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable, undefiled, and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you…” (1 Peter 1:3, 4).

Merry, Merry Christmas!

“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” John 1:12,13

Two Thousand Years Ago

In 2026, we will celebrate the 250th anniversary of the birth of our country. Let’s hope we make it. In 2017, Protestants celebrated the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. Around 2030, we will celebrate the 2000th anniversary of the ministry, death and resurrection of the Greatest Life that walked this “terrestrial ball”. The anniversary of His physical life and death is worth noting, and celebrating, because of Who He was and Who He is.

I am amazed when I think that Jesus Christ, Who Christians believe to be the Incarnate Creator God, physically walked this planet exactly two thousand years ago. The Son of God was walking around Incognito in Nazareth two thousand years ago today. Since the year of His birth is said to be by scholars about 6-4 BCE, then He’d be, in the flesh, twenty something.

There is no written record of what He was doing as a young adult. Before He began His public ministry, He most likely worked as a carpenter like His step-father, Joseph. An interesting, creative, simple, sweat-of-the-brow occupation, one that my family knows very well. Sweat-of-the-brow.. how ironic, that’s not something He should have been doing. That curse was reserved for Adam and his descendants. Yet, within ten years, He would bear more of Adam’s curse, He would bear his sins as well as the sins of all of his descendants. Today we remember that sacrifice, that gift, His Passion.

Today we remember the darkest day of human history, the day when Jesus Christ was murdered for political expedience, so it seemed. He was inconvenient, He was uncontrollable and He was very popular, definitely on Palm Sunday. Unfortunately, the voices, the sentiments, on Palm Sunday – “Blessed in He Who comes in the name of the Lord” – were replaced by the voices and sentiments on Good Friday – “Crucify Him!” Perhaps even by the same voices, how fickle is man!

Two thousand long years have passed since This Man walked the dirt roads of Galilee and Judea. Two thousand long years, His followers have tried to live out His last command, often imperfectly. Two thousand long years have passed while the Church awaits His return.

We are blessed by the sacrifice He made that Good Friday almost two thousand years ago. Our sins have been paid for, we have been redeemed, we have been forgiven of the very object that kept us separated from God, the Father.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. – 2 Corinthians 5:21

Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. – 2 Corinthians 5:17

We are blessed by the new life He gave us through this sacrifice.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. – 1 Peter 1:3-4

And we are finally blessed with a living hope, the confident hope of His return. A verse that is engraved in gold on the mausoleum that my grandfather built and where he and my grandmother rest – the Holy Cross Mausoleum in Colma, California – shouts, if you will, over all the gravestones at Holy Cross, some which include my parents and many other friends and relatives:

Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ…- Titus 2:13

Our Savior is a living Savior, a living Friend and as Thomas solemnly declared after putting his fingers upon the wounds on His hands and His side, “My Lord and My God.” Today as we remember His great gift to us, and on Sunday we will remember His resurrection. We will remember our Lord and our God is not dead. He is a living Savior poised to return to the earth He trod two thousand years ago. He will tread the earth again.

And in that day His feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, which faces Jerusalem on the east. And the Mount of Olives shall be split in two, From east to west, making a very large valley; half of the mountain shall move toward the north and half of it toward the south. – Zechariah 14:4

One day we shall behold Him, one day we shall see Him face to face. If you don’t know this Jesus, crack open a Bible and read the book of Luke or John and get to know this Incredible Person, this Person Who died for you nearly two thousand years ago and this Person Who will be your greatest Friend, your Savior and your Lord and your God.

“Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Count Thy Sunbeams Now!

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This morning I drove my son to work early. I got a good night’s sleep…thank you, Lord…and was listening to this new song I discovered from one of those corny Hallmark Christmas movies. It’s a sad Christmas song, and I think if the songwriter added an emotional bridge, it would be a classic.

Anyway, this song reminded me of a very painful Christmas sixteen years ago. There was a fight, and me and the nine kids (I was pregnant with the caboose) left and went to my parents for the holiday. It was the beginning of many low points. It was the beginning of the end.

The song reminded me of the days of many children. The days of many regrets…not regretting the kids, but many of my decisions during those years. Normally this line of thinking would land me in the “depths of despair” to quote Ms. Shirley, but not this morning, I just left it for what it was. Mistakes were made, but there were some good memories.

After I got home, I read today’s devotional in Mrs. Cowman’s Streams in the Desert, Vol. II. She quotes Psalm 92:1, It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord. She starts the devotional with these lines:

The remorse of memory is the pain of having failed to enjoy yourself. Have you ever felt that kind of remorse? Have you ever come to a time in which you looked back upon the past, and learned how little you valued it? To find that days were happy when the days are gone, to learn that one is passing through Elysium and not know it, to see the light on the hill only when it is setting – that is one of the saddest of all experiences. It is the climax of pain when I say with the poetess: “Oh, while my brother with me played, Would I had loved him more!”

I had read that quote before and didn’t understand it, until this morning. When we add gratitude to our lives, gratitude for the good and the bad, we create appreciation, value if you will, to those times. As I look back at that painful Christmas, I realize how good my kids were, for enduring what they did with resiliency and grace. They were and continue to be good sports.

Below is the rest of the devotional, which I must add because it is written by George Matheson, one of my favorite brothers in the Lord. I am looking forward to meeting him when I go….

My soul, wouldst thou be free from that pain — that remorse of memory? Thou mayest be so; live in present thanksgiving! Count thy sunbeams now! Treasure today the gems that are strewn upon thy path! The love that is merely retrospective is a very painful thing. I would not have thee wake to the glory of a past only when it is past — desire one of the days of the Son of Man after He ascended. If thy days of sorrow at any time should cloud thy days of joy, I should like thee to be able to say, ‘Well, while they lasted, I did appreciate them.’ There are some who want to feel at death that their life has been a vain show. I would not have it so with thee, O my soul. I should like when death comes, to feel that I had thoroughly enjoyed life — taken the honey from the flower as God meant me to take it. I should like to know that I had not defrauded myself of my birthright, that I made room for others because I had had my share. The cup of gladness which my Father has given me shall I not drink it, even unto the dregs!

I shall thank Him for every bird that sings. I shall praise Him for every flower that blows. I shall bless Him for every stream that warbles. I shall love Him for every heart that loves. I shall see the sparkling of the cup ere it passes to the hand of my brother. There shall be no remorse of memory when I have thanked God for today. — George Matheseon

Hallelujah, and thank you, Lord for this chilly, wonderful Day.

He Restores My Soul

Shepherd Returns Jean Francois Millet

Thru the Bible radio has begun the book of Psalms. The Bible Bus’s extended excursion through this wonderful book weaves in all the Messianic references so a clear picture of Jesus Christ emerges. Perhaps the most pronounced foreshadowing occurs in David’s famous psalm: Psalm 23. Today’s Thru the Bible Sunday Sermon is titled, “The Psalm of an Old Shepherd.” It is a wonderful sermon, you can listen to it here.

I was born in San Francisco, and pretty much lived, and continue to live, near this metropolis so I don’t know much about country living, although I’d like to learn. I needed to do my homework to understand not only the significance to this “shepherd” theme, but the many other pastoral themes in the New Testament like sowing and reaping. Jesus speaks to fishermen, farmers, blue-collar folks like shepherds whose trades are far from my accounting/secretarial office experiences.

According to Wikipedia, “A shepherd or sheepherder is a person who tends, herds, feeds, or guards herds of sheep.” Also, “shepherding is among the oldest occupations, beginning some 5,000 years ago in Asia Minor.” Like David, Isaiah likens the Lord to a shepherd: “He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those who are with young.” It was to the night watch shepherds that the glorious announcement came 2,000 years ago:

^“8And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. ¹⁰And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. ¹¹For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. ¹²And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” Luke 2

The connection between David’s shepherd and Jesus Christ is uncanny. John quotes Jesus in chapter 10 of his gospel: “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.” The writer of Hebrews adds: “Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep..” And finally, Peter, the fisherman, encourages us that, “…when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away.”

There is something of a longing in the human soul for someone like a shepherd, one who protects, provides and guides. Even Ira Gershwin tapped into this yearning with his immortal lyrics from the classic “Someone To Watch Over Me.”

I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood, I know I could always be good to one who’ll watch over me.

In Psalm 23, the Shepherd not only provides peaceful green pastures and still waters, but also He protects while we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. A stroll all of us will take one day. And, finally, He wondrously promises an eternity – a forever – in His dwelling, foreshadowing that great verse in John: “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you.”

In Psalm 23, David says the Lord, his Shepherd, restores his soul. Many believe David wrote this as an old man, after his great sin, and after he wrote Psalm 51 where he expressed his repentance when he cried out, “Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation.” God answered his prayer.

One night, years ago, I couldn’t sleep. What weighed down on my shoulders, I don’t remember, but I do remember it was during a time of real wrestling with my circumstances. Circumstances that I foolishly thought I had control of. Not long after this night, I learned, AGAIN, the meaning of Proverbs 3:5 and 6. This night, however, all I wanted to do was sleep, and I could not. I struggled to pray, and I could not. I tried to recite scripture and all verses fled from my memory except the “sublimely simple and simply sublime” psalm of the shepherd-king. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Well, those words raced right past me, but “He restores my soul” was the brick wall I ran into. I stopped there and pondered, and let the balm of these four words make its way into my troubled soul. It wasn’t long before the wrestling subsided, the peace restored and the slumber came. Four words. The Bible is a wonderful book.

This whole psalm restores not only our souls, but also our lives. Our souls are restored through the redemptive work of the Shepherd, Who, two thousand years ago, laid down His life for His sheep. Our emotional well-being is restored with peace, protection, provision and spiritual promises. And our bodies – sinless – will be restored on the Last Day. All the hope of Eden will be restored on that Great Day.

Jesus is The Shepherd of Psalm 23, He is David’s Shepherd; He is the Good Shepherd of John 10, the Great Shepherd of Hebrews 13, and finally, the returning and living Chief Shepherd of 1 Peter 5. He is our Shepherd, and He restores our souls, our lives, and, one day, our physical bodies.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I WILL dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Waiting For Hope

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Probably my favorite passage from Mrs. Charles Cowman’s Streams in the Desert – July 26

For we through the Spirit by faith wait for the hope of righteousness – Galatians 5:5

There are times when things look very dark to me–so dark that I have to wait even for hope. It is bad enough to wait in hope. A long-deferred fulfillment carries its own pain, but to wait for hope, to see no glimmer of a prospect and yet refuse to despair; to have nothing but night before the casement and yet to keep the casement open for possible stars; to have a vacant place in my heart and yet to allow that place to be filled by no inferior presence–that is the grandest patience in the universe. It is Job in the tempest; it is Abraham on the road to Moriah; it is Moses in the desert of Midian; it is the Son of man in the Garden of Gethsemane. There is no patience so hard as that which endures, “as seeing him who is invisible”; it is the waiting for hope.

Thou hast made waiting beautiful; Thou has made patience divine. Thou hast taught us that the Father’s will may be received just because it is His will. Thou hast revealed to us that a soul may see nothing but sorrow in the cup and yet may refuse to let it go, convinced that the eye of the Father sees further than its own.

Give me this Divine power of Thine, the power of Gethsemane. Give me the power to wait for hope itself, to look out from the casement where there are no stars. Give me the power, when the very joy that was set before me is gone, to stand unconquered amid the night, and say, “To the eye of my Father it is perhaps shining still.” I shall reach the climax of strength when I have learned to wait for hope. –George Matheson

Strive to be one of those–so few–who walk the earth with ever-present consciousness–all mornings, middays, star-times–that the unknown which men call Heaven is “close behind the visible scene of things.”

Today I Feel – RX for Jessica

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Last night my niece, Jessica, posted the above sentiment on her Facebook status. Before I fell asleep, I managed to comment encouraging her to find Bible verses to counter those feelings. I’ll try to do that in this blog. Here’s her Bible verse prescription for the above ailments that trouble her, and all of us too.

I encouraged her to find Bible verses because I had, and still do have, those exact feelings. I’m sure most of us do. I especially relate to the “ugly”, “like I don’t matter”, “invisible”, and “not worthy of love” feelings, but I will tackle each of them. I have learned over the almost four decades of knowing the Lord Jesus, that He can transform my mind which in turn will produce different feelings than those above.

Today I feel abandoned…I think every human has felt abandoned, lonely and alone. No one truly understands. And that’s a true experience. There are many synonyms for “abandoned”, left, uncared for, forgotten. When I think of abandoned, I think of an empty house, abandoned, like the old Granville house in “It’s a Wonderful Life”. What changed that abandoned, empty house into a happy home? Life and love changed it. In Christ, we have a new life, in 2 Corinthians 5:17, Paul writes, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come; the old has gone, the new is here!” John 3:16 says we’re loved, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…” and John 10:10 says “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.“ Life and love, and to top it off, Jesus says in Matthew 28:20, “…I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Never alone again. Amen.

Today I feel ugly…I don’t think there’s a woman in the world who has never felt ugly. We are bombarded with images of unnaturally beautiful women everyday and then we look in our own mirrors…ughh. That may be one of the reasons I have few mirrors in my home. Antonyms for ugly abound: beautiful, pretty, pleasant, nice, attractive. Most of us can’t change our looks, but we can change our inner lives. From there, we can acquire an inner beauty that never ages. We have to admit we’ve got some ugly going on inside. How do we change that? One verse that helps is Psalm 34:5 “They looked to Him and were radiant, And their faces will never be ashamed.“ When we look at Jesus, we become radiant, we have a spiritual beauty, and from that we get joy. Nothing gets rid of ugly faster than happy.

Today I feel hurt…Hurt comes to all of us. Physical, emotional, mental pain abound in every country, city, and family. Pain: Our great unifier. The opposite of hurt would be healing. Psalm 34:18 assures us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” and Psalm 147:3 promises, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up all their wounds.” As we draw near to Him, our hurts will be healed.

Today I feel like I don’t matter…The opposite of this feeling would be we feel like we do matter, that we’re important, that we’re special. The Bible says you matter to God. In the Old Testament, God says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” In the New Testament, Paul tells us how God showed us we matter, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Greater love has no one than to lay down his life for his friends, Jesus loves you that much. Believe me, you do matter to God.

Today I feel useless…This word “useless” reminds me of the debilitating slur some parents would hurl at their children, “good for nothing”. Praise God He’s not that kind of Father. Paul, after he declares we are saved by grace through our faith, says “…we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” You’re not useless, God will use you just where you are.

Today I feel invisible…What’s the opposite of invisible? Visible, of course, noticed, seen, but more importantly, recognized, not just seen, but known. Someone who knows you. David says in Psalm 139,

¹³For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
¹⁵My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
¹⁷How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
¹⁸Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when I awake, I am still with you.

He knows all about you because He created you. You are NEVER invisible to Him. Hallelujah!

Today I feel like I don’t belong…Dr. Brené Brown in her book The Gifts of Imperfection writes: “A deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need in all women, men and children.” We all want to belong to someone or something. Psalm 100:3 says, “Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.” Jesus adds to this, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.” As Christian believers, we belong to Christ.

Today I feel not worthy of love…I know this one too well. I never felt like I was worthy of anyone’s love, let alone a man’s. Some where deep down I felt flawed, “irregular” like the marked down clothes at Target. I wrote a whole blog about how God transformed my feelings of worthlessness into beloved-ness. All I can say is we need to let God love us, and then we not only feel beloved, but we are capable of truly loving others. Here is a link to that blog: https://fromtheshoe.com/2015/12/05/and-my-soul-felt-its-worth/. Just like the Christmas song says, when Christ was born, “the soul felt its worth”. Thank you, Lord.

So, dear Jessica, here is your prescription to alleviate those “sick” feelings and come back to health. I pray for you that you will come to know the living Christ and be filled up with all the spiritual blessings He is ready to offer you. God bless you, little sister.

Love, Donna

Epilogue: David’s Sunrise is Home

Three months to the day of David J Ochoa’s untimely and tragic death, his parents trekked to Fresno to pick up the painting that will always be a beautiful memorial to this young man and reminder of his short, but beloved life.

David died on February 19th, 2018. At the time, David was seeing my daughter, Espi. His death has struck us hard, and we are still reeling. Two days later I took the picture this painting is based on.

As had been told before, not only was the picture a beautiful image of a bird heading for the heavens at the dawn of the day, but it was taken at a particular intersection in South San Francisco, California two days after his death. Even more remarkable was the conversation between his mother and I when she revealed that where I took the picture was very close to where David left this earth. Flew quietly away, if you will.

I love what Wendy said in her blog, “David’s Sunrise: The Story of a Photo”,

“…this image becomes one more example of how art can imitate life, and how an unseen God can intervene in the world, making Himself known through an art form, captured at an intersection of time and space, inserting His presence where He is needed most, to help in the process of grief, honoring a young man taken too soon.”

As much as we long to undo that day in February, to somehow bring David back, we sadly and powerlessly cannot. Such is the hardest thing to deal with in this life: Death. And Death is all around us, the Great Inevitable. David’s Sunrise reminds us of a “really sweet” life gone too soon, but it also reminds us that this is David’s Sunrise, not his sunset. I feel that is an important component to this story. David has gone before us. Even King David, after his newborn son died, said, “I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” Wendy quoted Nabokov, “Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not be an even greater one.”

I agree. Jesus, who said, “I am the resurrection and the life” shortly before he raised Lazarus from the dead, assures us that there is life after death. There is physical life after death. Every Easter, we remember this Man, His life and the gift of eternal life He’s given us through His death. Every time we look at this painting, we remember the young man, David J Ochoa, who lived here, but lives elsewhere now.

This painting is hung on a wall that seemed prepared for it. God in His wonderful providence has brought people together in His haphazard and serendipitous way to comfort a family and memorialize a life. All of us who were involved in this have been humbly blessed. Such are the marvelous ways of the Lord.

David will not only live on in our hearts and memories, but he lives now in the presence of God. I feel the painting points all our attention to the heavens, to the Sunrise. I look forward to the day when I can get to know David better.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. – Revelation 21:4

David

I Will Go…

ITR-PCL-00043430

March 2018

I’ve had the great pleasure these past few days of enjoying the splendid music of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. How I overlooked these guys is beyond me. Come most Januarys, when the hills in Pacifica are at their greenest, I begin listening to my favorite Irish songs. Leading up to March 17, most days are sprinkled with various renditions of “Only Our Rivers are Free”, “The Town I Loved So Well”, “Danny Boy”, of course, and many other musical nuggets I’ve extracted and cherished over the years.

This year, I’ve been listening to songs of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. What led me here was a cover of “Red is the Rose” by Anthony Kearns (one of the Irish Tenors) that serendipitously appeared on my Pandora autoplay. I youtubed it and found a stirring cover by the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem which, of course, led me to other songs. My new favorite song is “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?” sung sweetly by Tommy and the brothers.

The tune and the tempo remind me of that lovely, traditional Scottish melody “Loch Lomond”, a song me and my river mates would sing while making our way back to my cabin which sits on the bonnie braes of the Russian River in Guerneville, CA; we could take the high road off Leasowe Lane (up to Drake Road) or stay on the low gravelled road to the cabin. Maybe it’s that tune that stirs this deep feeling in me.

However, it’s the song’s sweet, innocent lyrics that capture this old, romantic’s soul especially as it’s sung to the hauntingly, beautiful tempo of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.

lassie

Now, granted, I’m a tad old to be pining for a laddie to lure me to the mountains; yet, the lyrics remind me of another old, older love song, one that can be translated into a spiritual hope, a future journey. In Song of Solomon, the Shulamite woman tells us:

“My beloved responded and said to me, ‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, And come along. For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land. The fig tree has ripened its figs, and the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come away!” – Song of Solomon 2:10-13

Will this lassie go? I will go, someday. Someday, He will call me home…where maybe there’ll be blooming heather growing near the wild mountain thyme. Who knows what eternity will be like? Solomon said, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts…”. We are made for eternity, and I believe eternity will be beautiful too. Music like this song is eternal.

That is our hope in Jesus Christ. He said, “And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the Only True God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” He is the Resurrection and the Life. This Lenten season, this St. Patrick’s Day, let us remember who calls us beloved, who calls us to come and follow Him, and who went to prepare a bower (place) for us. Let us remember the good news Patrick went to Ireland to share.

In this life, we only skip along the outskirts of eternity. I hope we don’t get distracted by all the things of this world, the things that will pass away. Songs like “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?” remind us how powerful music is and how some songs transcend time. They skirt the mountains of eternity and call us to come. Will ye go, Lassie, Laddie, will ye go?

“Come away, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the mountain of spices.”

Song of Solomon 8:14