One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:39-43

The year was 1973, and I was at college in Virginia. It was a small women’s college that had a club called the Religious Life Association (RLA). It was there that I had participated in my first ever “Stations of the Cross” during Holy Week. Having grown up in a Presbyterian church, I found the concept of reenacting the events of Good Friday unfamiliar but interesting. I must have still been thinking about the event the night I had that vivid dream, one that I still remember, fifty years later.

I was in the balcony of the dimly lit chapel, watching a group of students walking through the Stations of the Cross. From that vantage point I started to notice two things happening simultaneously. One was that others were joining the ritual. At the same time, as if to accommodate the growing crowd, the sanctuary itself was gradually expanding. Moments later, the ceiling had disappeared, and what had been the sanctuary was now a courtyard under a night sky. At some point the lights morphed into flickering torches. As I strained to see what was going on below me, it seemed that the “reenactment” was disturbingly realistic. The Man at the center of attention seemed to be the victim of a real beating. I heard voices shouting viciously. If this was an act, they were very good at it!

At some point I realized this was no reenactment of the Stations of the Cross – this was the real thing! And if that were true, that meant the One at the center of it, getting beaten bloody was – Jesus!

I couldn’t just stand there watching it happen. Determined to help Him, I tore down the stairs, although I had no idea what I would or could do to help, once I got to Him – if that were even possible.

Once in the courtyard, I pushed my way through the mass of people for what seemed like hours, desperate to reach my Lord and dearest Friend. Finally, I broke through and was alarmed to see that He was already being nailed to the cross! I screamed, “NO!” and grabbed at His hand but only succeeded in tearing His flesh even more. He winced in pain. As He continued to suffer the torture, I was horrified to find that the more I tried to “fix” what was happening, the worse I made it. I began sobbing hysterically, “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

He turned His head, and as our eyes met, He said through the pain, “It’s OK.”

And I woke up, strangely at peace.

Of course, Jesus wasn’t “OK.” And what I did to Him was certainly not “OK.” But even as a baby Christian, I knew what He meant. I was forgiven because of what He went through for me. Yes, my sin had helped nail Him to that cross, whatever good intentions I might have professed. I was a fallen, flawed, foolish woman! But I wasn’t going to get the punishment I deserve, because He took it for me. I only had to come to Him, see His suffering, believe it, and repent, and I would be forgiven.

And now, fifty years later, I am still a fallen, flawed, foolish, forgiven woman.

Prayer: Jesus, I can never thank You enough for what You did for me, even when I was in my sin and ignorance. Today I pray for those who don’t know what they have done to You through their sin – intentional or not. May they see their guilt, repent, and be forgiven as I have been. I pray, too, for those who do know the depth of their sin and how their sins and the sin of all humanity have hurt You, but who don’t know they can be forgiven. Please bring them also to the foot of the Cross, to repent and receive the assurance of Your forgiveness and promise of eternal life. Finally, I pray for those who have, as I have, received the gospel and been saved from the power of sin. May our faith grow ever stronger, especially during this time when Your suffering, death and resurrection are commemorated all over the world. In Your precious name, Amen.

We know that we are children of God, and the whole world is under the control of the evil one. – I John 5:19

Our pastor has been preaching a series on the book of II Kings. It’s a fast-paced, exciting, confusing book of rulers of Israel – Northen and Southern kingdoms – prophets, and various enemies. I have read this book of the Bible numerous times over the years and have long given up on keeping everyone straight and knowing details for the sake of knowing details. However, the history of Israel contains important lessons regarding good, evil, and their consequences for individuals, leaders, and nations.

Recently the sermon included one of my favorite stories in Kings, the tale of the wicked Queen Athalia and little King Joash.

Athalia, daughter of the notorious King Ahab and Queen Jezebel and wife of King Jehoram, led the Southern Kingdom (Judah), from worshiping Jehovah into detestable Baal-worship. Her son, wicked King Ahaziah, ruled Judah for a year, although it’s debatable whether he was the king or just the puppet of his evil mother.

When Ahaziah died, Athalia set about to murder every male in the entire royal family – the line of King David!

Of all the wars and murders recorded in Kings, this bloodbath had the potential to be the most catastrophic. The Lord had predicted through His prophets that the coming Messiah would be from the lineage of David. If this wicked queen had succeeded in killing off that line, there would have been no Messiah – NO JESUS.

No salvation!

But, as has happened in better known biblical accounts (Exodus 1:22- 2:3, Matthew 2:13-16), one baby was preserved from the slaughter. How this happened is the stuff of fairy tales and Hollywood movies…

But Jehosheba took Joash [her nephew] and stole him away from the royal princes, who were about to be murdered. She put him and his nurse in a bedroom to hide from Athaliah, so he was not killed. He remained hidden with his nurse at the Temple of the Lord for six years while Athaliah ruled the land. (II Kings 11:2,3)

After seven years, Jehoida, the priest, decided the time was right for this little boy, the rightful King of Judah, to take the throne.

DRUM ROLL …

It was the Sabbath, and the people would soon be assembling. Some of the commanders and guards had Sabbath duty that day at the palace, some at the Temple, and some at the gates. Jehoida gathered them all – those on duty and off – at the Temple, and gave them instructions.

Then [the priest] gave the commanders the spears and shields that had belonged to King David and that were in the Temple of the Lord. The guards, each with his weapon in his hand, stationed themselves around the king … – II Kings 11:10-11a

Feel the suspense building as all of this was being done, unbeknownst to Athalia! The people gathered at the Temple and the commanders and guards quietly took their positions – as quietly as hundreds of soldiers with weapons and shields could manage!

Then,

Jehoida brought out the king’s son and put the crown on him; he presented him with a copy of the covenant and proclaimed him king. They anointed him, and the people clapped their hands and shouted, “Long live the king!” II Kings 11:12

Whatever Athalia had been doing all this time, she finally heard the uproar and hurried to the Temple, where she was appalled at what she saw.

Imagine the scene!

Little King Joash stood with a crown on his head and the covenant in his hand, officers and trumpeters beside him, surrounded by hundreds of armed guards, and all the people shouting joyfully, “Long live the king!” and blowing trumpets.

As might be expected,

“… Athalia tore her robes, and called out, ‘Treason! Treason!'” (II Kings 11:14c)

Then, in one day the kingdom of Judah made a complete turnaround, from Baal worship back to the true God.

First, the evil Athalia was dragged out of the Temple and killed.

Jehoida then made a covenant between the Lord and the king that they would be the Lord’s people. He also made a covenant between the king and the people. All the people of the land went to the temple of Baal and tore it down. They smashed the altars and idols to pieces and killed Mattan the priest of Baal in front of the altars.” (II Kings 11:17-18b)

Accompanied by the guards and the people, Jehoida brought Joash from the Temple to the palace, where the child took the throne, in the midst of much rejoicing.

For many years I didn’t know why this story was one of my favorites. I assumed it was because as a theater major, I could visualize the drama – tiny, helpless king, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers with King David’s spears and shields, wicked queen in a rage, the people rising up, the evil one getting justice, and a complete rejection of the false god in favor of Jehovah.

But recently I was picturing the scene, and something else occurred to me …

Besides preserving the line of David and the way of our salvation, this is a picture of how the Lord protects US!

We were created in the image of God for the purpose of ruling with Him (Genesis 1:26). But a wicked usurper has taken over the world (I John 5:19). By ourselves we are as small and weak as a little child, helpless against the evil that is in the world.

And yet we are surrounded by the armies of God (Psalm 91:11)! We are armed with supernatural weapons that can tear down the strongholds of the enemy (II Corinthians 10:4)! The saints – believers who have gone before us (Hebrews 12:1) – are cheering us on and will rejoice when we have the victory and take our rightful place as heirs to God’s kingdom (Romans 8:17)!

(“I’ve read the last chapter – we win!”)

Prayer: Lord, throughout history we have seen the evil powers that strive against the righteous for dominion over this world and over Your kingdom. Without You we are powerless and utterly dependent. And yet You are all-powerful and utterly dependable. Thank You for giving us the victory in Jesus’ name. Amen.

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel … – Philippians 1:3-5a

So, since I posted a three-part story last week instead of stretching it out over three Fridays (You’re welcome.), today I thought I’d post something short. Unfortunately, it disappeared. -_- Apparently, the glitch was the picture I tried to post, which was more than this page could manage, so it just deleted the whole piece. (*eye roll*) So, as my son used to say, back when he could barely talk, “Fry again!” (I’ll try putting the link to my Facebook post at the end.)

But first …

Many thanks to those of you who encouraged me in the recording of my first audiobook, Counselor, especially you who listened to the final product and wrote reviews. To the bloggers who have written reviews in your blogs, I’m thrilled that your followers will read them! Please remember to post the reviews on Amazon, too, if you haven’t already. Thanks!

(If you’re unfamiliar with what I’m talking about…

Another “First” from 2022 – Expanding My Reach

Announcement!

The audio version of Counselor is now available from Amazon, Audible, and iTunes.

Something I just found out yesterday …

If you are still listening to Counselor or haven’t started yet: When you are at the end of the audiobook, a note will pop up on your screen with a link to use to write a review. This link will only appear once. If you have procrastinated after listening to the whole book, you won’t get any more reminders, but you can still go onto Amazon and write a review, whenever you get around to it – although I warn you, those “round tuits” can be hard to come by! 😉

And now the big news!

All that to say, yesterday I started recording Book Two in my Awakening trilogy, entitled Vision. I’m excited to get back into the booth and continue telling my story.

https://www.facebook.com/ann.h.aschauer

Thanks again, everyone! 😊

Prayer: Lord, thank You that today we have so many ways to share the good news of the Gospel, I thank You for those who are much more tech-savvy than I am, who help me to get my stories “out there” to reach people I have never even met (yet). Please use my writings to bless those who read them – and listen to them. Please continue to bless them until we all meet in heaven, where we can joyfully share our “God stories” with one another throughout eternity. In Jesus’ name, amen.

So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. – I Corinthians 3:7

Having started the day of the St. Patrick’s parade with emotional misgivings and unexpected delays, annoyances, and inconveniences …

Satan’s Obstacles, or God’s “No”?

Satan’s Obstacles, or God’s “No”? Part 2: Obstacles

… my evangelizing partner Lilly and I had decided that anything short of an impossible hurdle was not a red light from God, but a distraction or obstacle from the other side. And so, not having run into any brick walls, we headed for the parade route, along with my little granddaughter Charlotte, who probably had more enthusiasm at the moment than the other two of us put together.

As we approached the first group of parade-goers, I took the lead, and Lilly remained quietly in the background – praying, I hoped.

Charlotte, however, wanted to take part, so, after I read the questions and the participants guessed at the multiple-choice answers, she announced the correct answers and their explanations. People seemed quite taken with this little lass, and they also seemed fascinated by the story of Patrick, which only the those who had attended Catholic school seemed to know anything about. When finished, I offered each group the little booklets I had made, and about half accepted, so they could quiz their families and friends.

I shared the contents of these booklets a few years ago:

Who Knew?

With each encounter, Lilly handed out bookmarks she had made. On one side was pictured a shamrock. On the stem Lilly had written the word, “LOVED,” and on the three leaves, “by the FATHER,” “by the SON,” and “by the HOLY SPIRIT.” On the back she had simply written in green, “You are loved.”

As we were received positively by every group we approached, my rebellious emotions went through a transformation. Having decided and committed to “just do it,” it was as if whatever had been holding me back had quickly given up. Charlotte’s excitement was contagious, and the general celebratory mood of the afternoon lent itself to the approach, Let’s just have fun with this!

Once the parade started to pass our block, we were reluctant to intrude on the spectators. But when there was a lull, to the point where people were wondering if the parade was over, we crossed the street to a McDonald’s to get Charlotte something to eat.

Inside, numerous teenagers were clustered around tables, engaged in animated conversations. While some might find this age group intimidating, I was drawn to them. This was the age I had taught and loved for years!

It still delights me that a group of teens – boys and girls – could be approached by a white-haired elderly woman and happily invite her into their world. I would ask, “Anybody here want to take a quiz, see what you know about St. Patrick?” Faces would light up, with cries of “Oo! I do!”

“So, you know about St. Patrick?” I asked the first table. They replied, no, they didn’t have a clue, but they couldn’t wait to take the quiz, anyway. I read the questions and the options, from the trick answers to the questionable ones, to the downright ludicrous, and hands shot up, disagreements ensued, and when Charlotte read the correct answers, there were triumphant high-fives. I felt as though I were back teaching a fun lesson to my beloved high school students. Once again, I felt like the “favorite teacher.” (I was much cooler in high school as a teacher than I ever was as a student.)

Four teenaged girls took the quiz, and when asked the final question, “Why is the shamrock the symbol of St. Patrick?” all four picked “D. According to legend, shamrocks sprang up overnight, covering Patrick’s first church in green, symbolizing life.” All four were wrong.

“Man, I’m good!” I laughed. “I made that one up.”

“You did?!” they gasped, wide-eyed.

“I’m a writer,” I explained. They asked what I wrote, and when I told them I had written books – some of them novels for their age group, in fact – they wanted to know where they could get them. I gave them each one of my business cards.

This bit of serendipity had not even been on my radar.

The last group we approached was a gathering of four boys and four girls, all about sixteen. When I asked who wanted to take part in “the St. Patrick’s challenge,” most accepted, while a couple of them hung back to watch. They asked if I was filming – would this be on TikTok?! Apologetically, I said, no, I was technologically challenged. One young man slipped a phone from his pocket and looked as if he were recording it himself. (No, I don’t know if he was.)

After the usual guesses, disagreements, high-fives, and laughter, one of the students said, “You should post this on TikTok! You’d make a lot of money!”

When it became obvious that “a lot of money” didn’t phase me, another one of them asked, “Why are you doing this? Are you Irish or something?”

“No,” I said, “I’m a born-again Christian, and this is my way of sharing Jesus with other people.”

Another young man said. “Then you should put this on TikTok. You’d reach more people.”

As we headed back to the car, I thought, “Maybe next year …”

I’m sure some will ask if I saw anybody make a decision for Christ that afternoon, and the answer would be “no.” Sometimes we just plant the seeds. Or water seeds someone else has planted. Or show a bunch of young people that Christians can have fun, too. And on rare occasions, we’ll have the privilege of harvesting souls.

But planting, watering, harvesting, it’s all Jesus.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for not letting my emotions run my life. Thanks for giving me the strength to obey You even when I don’t “feel like it,” and for so often helping me to “feel like it” once the decision is made. Thank You for the rewards of obedience, whether we experience them quickly or have to wait until we get to heaven. In Jesus’ name, amen.

(P. S. Scripture tells us that as Christians we will experience ridicule, rejection, and even abuse. And yes, we should be prepared, because there will be those days. But thankfully, this was not one of them.)

After yesterday’s “cliff hanger,” I was persuaded to post the continuation of the story earlier than next Friday. I have been mostly consistent (O. C. D.?) about posting once a week, on Friday. But, when I’m doing a story with a lot of details, I don’t want a post to be too long, because some readers will just skip something they don’t have time to read at the moment. At the same time, making y’all wait a week for each installment might lose some of you, too. (Who stays focused on one story that long these days?) So, here’s segment 2, and the final segment just might be posted tomorrow. Or Friday. Maybe Friday I’ll have nothing. And I suspect no one will die because of it. Let me know in the comments what you think.

No weapon formed against you shall prosper … Isaiah 54:17

As I related in my last post ( https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2023/03/17/satans-obstacles-or-gods-no/ ), I was conflicted the morning it seemed I would finally make it to the St. Patrick’s Day parade for an outreach I had wanted to do for years. The age-old dilemma of discerning God’s will in the midst of conflicting circumstances reared its head, and I wound up promising the Lord that I would go, no matter how I felt or what complications arose. I prayed that if He truly didn’t want me to go, He would put an obstacle in my path that I could not get around. Otherwise, I would assume they were the enemy’s distractions, or even the Lord’s speedbumps, but not roadblocks.

It seemed someone didn’t want me going, because that morning, besides my emotional misgivings, the following “glitches” came up:

1.). My evangelism partner was lacking the enthusiasm she’d had when we had met before to pray and plan. I was to find out later that she was dealing with some chronic pain issues, and this was a bad day for her. But, God bless her, she had decided, as I had, that there are times we just obey, whether or not it’s comfortable or convenient. We had talked earlier about how the Lord had sent His disciples out two at a time, possibly so that while one was talking, the other could be praying. It looked as though I would be the talker today.

2.) I was asked by my daughter if I would take two of my grandchildren to the parade, and I agreed. When I arrived to pick them up, one of them was still barefoot, cranky, and whiny and didn’t want to go. I ended up getting said child ready and dropped off at our house to “hang out” with “Beepaw.” (So much for getting to the parade early.)

3.) Parking was predictably very difficult – but not impossible.

4.) Before getting out, I leaned over to get something off the floor. The chain holding my glasses caught on the gear shift. A small explosion followed, scattering hundreds of tiny beads all over the inside of the car.

All of these were hardly deal-breakers, just inconveniences. It occurred to me that the more obstacles were thrown my way, the more it could mean the enemy didn’t want me doing this – and the more it must be something important and worthwhile! (Aha!) My mood lifted a bit as I brushed tiny beads off my lap. I smirked, muttered under my breath, “Nice try,” stuck my glasses in my pocket, and left the mess in the car to deal with later.

I made my way toward the crowded streets, with my nearly-silent partner, who I hoped was silently praying, and my little granddaughter, who didn’t seem that interested in being silent …

Not exactly what I had originally envisioned.

But then, this wasn’t about me, was it?

Prayer: Lord, Your plans are rarely what we think they are, but I’ve learned that they are always better. Thanks for the adventure of trusting You when things look crazy and out of control. I know that You are always, always in control. Thanks for letting me come along for the ride. In Jesus’ name, amen.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” – John 4:7

As I woke up on the much-anticipated day, I was not at all sure that what I had planned was really from God.

The “much anticipated day” was the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade. I had hoped to engage in my own kind of outreach, taking advantage of the “mission field” in the streets of Louisville – the estimated 10,000 people attending.

For years I had been trying to get a group together to mingle with the attendees, introducing them to the gospel through the testimony of the life of Patrick, patron saint of Ireland. I had prepared a 4-question, multiple-choice quiz that I would offer people, to test their knowledge of just what it was they were celebrating (besides “green beer and poor choices,” as my friend Rachel put it). I had put together colorful booklets with the quiz and the explanation of the plan of salvation, which people could keep if they’d like.

Plans had fallen through in past years. There was the year the weather had been cold, windy, and raining; the year the Covid lockdowns started the exact scheduled day of the parade; the following year, when the parade had been postponed; and at least one year where everyone who had told me they’d go with me had had “something come up” at the last minute. (No judgment.) This year I had started with a handful of people that had been whittled down to one young lady who, it appeared, was indeed committed to come with me.

But I had a sick feeling in my stomach, that feeling you get when you wonder what-the-heck you’ve gotten yourself into. Although I knew God’s opinion was the only one that mattered, I had let myself be affected by some who had opined that the approach was a bit gimmicky, comments that my explanation of the Trinity (actually, St. Patrick’s explanation) was insufficient theologically, and some unspoken messages I was sensing, whether intended or of my own imagination.

If you’ve read many of my posts, you know that I put scant confidence in the opinions of others or emotions. Emotions can lie. I have had ample experiences when the Word of God and my emotions were giving me opposite messages, and I needed to choose which one I would act on.

Then that age-old question of how to discern the will of God comes in; are these misgivings His way of telling me today is not the day to do this – or perhaps there is never a good day to do this?

Or, is this an excellent day to reach others, and is what I’m feeling an attack from the enemy of my soul, using my emotions to try to stop the plan?

I have learned that God is much more interested in my obedience than in my emotions. Besides, once I make the decision to obey, the feelings often will fall into line. But to obey His will, I needed to know what that will is. So I did the best thing to do in these situations; I prayed.

Part of the answer came in the form of familiar Scriptures, and the rest could be credited to the Holy Spirit, or what some might call logic or “common sense.”

The Scripture that came to mind was the fourth chapter of the gospel of John, which tells of Jesus’ encounter with a Samaritan woman at a well. The woman was alone, coming to draw water at the hottest part of the day. The other women had already drawn and left; this one was an outcast.

Jesus began a dialogue with her by asking her for a drink of water. Over the next few verses, the conversation transitioned from talking about water to the relationship between Jews and Samaritans, to Jesus’ cryptic statement that if she knew who He was, she’d ask Him for “living water,” to the woman’s five failed marriages, to the question of whether Jesus was a prophet, to theological differences between Jews and Samaritans, to Jesus finally telling the woman outright that He was the Messiah.

Considering this story of evangelism by Jesus Himself, I came to the conclusion that one person’s “gimmick” is another person’s meeting someone where they are.

At the well, rather than going up to the woman and saying, “Hey, I’m the Messiah,” Jesus used water as a bridge her heart. I entertained the notion that it was probably OK for me to use a celebration of St. Patrick as a springboard to discuss of the gospel that he had shared with the Irish. It might not be everyone’s way of evangelizing, but since there are many different kinds of unbelievers, it could well take many kinds of believers to reach them, including quirky, retired teachers like yours truly.

Granted, the shamrock is an insufficient explanation of the Trinity, but when I had asked my critic for an alternative, we had agreed that it’s something none of us can adequately explain. Besides, far from being seminary students, many of the people at the parade might not even know God loved them! I would meet them where they were – surrounded by images of shamrocks – Patrick’s object lesson to the pagans.

Thus, I decided to ignore my misgivings for the time being and just obey the Great Commission. We have Jesus’ command to spread the gospel, and as far as I know, He never said anything about having to feel like it. I did pray that if doing this wasn’t God’s will, that He would put a roadblock in my way that I could not get around. (I’ve known Him to do that before.) Satan might introduce all kinds of inconveniences, but unless they made it impossible to go on this mission, I would assume I had the green light from the Lord, and He would help me get around any and every obstacle.

In a few hours it would all be over with.

To be continued…

Prayer: Lord, how we let our emotions dictate! Forgive us and help us to practice obedience in the small things, so when the really difficult trials come, we’re ready to obey You in the face of excruciating obstacles, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

So then, just as you have received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. – Colossians 2:6,7

Last Friday high winds tore through our area, toppling large trees, which tore down power lines affecting nearly 400,000 people. We were without electricity for four days, although I was grateful we had water, some heat from a gas fireplace, and a functioning gas stove.

Thankfully, our daughter Joanna’s family did not lose power. I say, “Thankfully,” because Saturday night she was throwing a big party for my 70th birthday. That day, as she was busily cleaning the house and telling the kids to stay out of her way and not undo all her work, I sheepishly asked if I could shower there, as our water heater is electric. (I’m not a fan of cold showers.) She said, “Sure.”

Assuming I had the same instructions as my grandchildren, I tried to contain my presence to the bathroom. I say “tried,” because it didn’t quite work out that way…

Joanna has one of those versatile showerheads I love that’s on the end of a hose. I realized, though, that I should have at least glanced at it before turning on the shower, as water immediately came spewing out all over the bathroom floor. I reached for the showerhead to aim it back into the stall, at which point it popped off the holder and fell onto the tiles of the stall (The hose was, of course, just long enough to reach the floor.), where it bounced, landed in the middle of the bathroom, and separated itself from the hose. (Uh-oh…)

I was busy grabbing towels to soak up the puddle, fearing my darling daughter would start seeing water dripping from the ceiling. (That wouldn’t add to the stress, would it?) I didn’t notice until I tried to reconnect the showerhead to the hose, that said showerhead was broken.

My first instinct, as always, was to call for my husband Marty, handyman extraordinaire, to come to my rescue. My phone, however, was downstairs, where my busy daughter was preparing for my party. I didn’t want to stress her out by letting her know there was a problem until it was at least on its way to being fixed. I called (yelled) for my granddaughter and asked her to please bring me my purse. She complied immediately. (I love that kid.) I tried to text my husband but got a cheery “Text not sent. Tap to try again.” Realizing I had no cell connection, like the dignified 70-year-old, I checked to make sure no one was upstairs, then tiptoed from one room to another, wrapped in a bath towel, desperately trying to get a signal.

Marty finally got a couple of my frantic texts and realized I had a problem and needed him to come “Fix it!” I got two texts from him: “Do you need me to come over?” and, answering his own question, “Yes.”

“What Are the Chances?!”

It just so happened that my other daughter, Kelly, had come up from Tennessee for the occasion, and had already given me my birthday presents: A bottle of perfume … and a new shower head! She and Marty had already installed it, and that next morning as my hero flew to my rescue, he brough the old one with him, just in case.

All’s Well that Ends Well

The happy ending of this story is that (1.) the old showerhead was a standard size and fit perfectly, and (2.) when we came downstairs, far from being stressed out, Joanna was laughing.

It turned out she already knew something was going on. While I was tiptoeing around upstairs, stepping over toys and clothes in the kids’ rooms, trying to find a cell signal, Joanna’s husband, who knew I was (allegedly) showering, had asked her to go upstairs and get the car keys off the bathroom sink. She had tapped on the door and, not getting an answer, opened it to see water and towels on the floor with a broken showerhead in the middle of them. She had merely thought, I don’t wanna know, grabbed the keys, and gone back to work.

I look back on that series of “crises” and smile. I can see where I have grown, probably very gradually, as I have faced the unexpected events of my life, large and small. Twenty years ago, something like the shower crisis would have thrown me into a full-blown panic attack, extreme irritation (rage), and/or a bad mood affecting my attitude for the rest of what was supposed to be a very special day. As it was, besides the annoyance of not being able to reach Marty right away, I was aware even at the time that the whole thing resembled a sit-com; no one was going to die, and God was probably up to something I didn’t yet comprehend. Relieved to see Joanna laughing (far more mature than I was at her age), I felt free to laugh, too.

I enjoyed telling the crazy story to my friends at the party. It was fun seeing their expressions go from Oops, to Oh no! to OH NO! to amazement at the “coincidence,” to laughing with me at … was it “Murphy’s Law,” or “God’s got this!” ?

I am acutely aware that there are believers suffering in unimaginable ways, and as far as trials, tribulations, and persecutions, I know little or nothing. But in learning to trust the Lord in these smaller things, I truly hope I am being trained to trust Him in the bigger things later on. I should not expect to bravely die a martyr’s death someday, if I’m losing my temper at minor annoyances that come up on a daily basis.

(Baby steps.)

Prayer: Lord, we like to think our faith is strong. We trust You to sustain us through the great hardships that are ahead. Help us practice that faith in the smaller things that come up today and not be so set in our own agendas that we lose sight of You the moment something goes “wrong.” We want to trust You in those things, too! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” – Matthew 25:13

Those of you who follow this blog are probably aware that I just turned seventy. Friends may joke about being “over the hill,” but being over the hill isn’t so bad. Consider this: When you come up over the hill, the view suddenly changes. You see things you’ve never never seen before. (“Divine perspective”?)

Seventy seemed so old when I was in my 20’s and 30’s. I remember the eve of my 40th birthday, lying awake with the sobering realization that I was getting older and there was nothing I could do to stop it! Before I knew it, it was my 50th, and I started understanding the saying, “Life is like a roll of toilet paper; the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.”

Sixty came, and I was encouraged by the news that according to a recent poll, the 60’s were the happiest decade of life, followed by the 70’s as the second happiest!

And here I am.

When I was younger, this thought of the relentless passing of time frightened me, but as I’ve matured and my faith has been strengthened, I am comforted to know that I am ten years closer to heaven than I was on my 60th birthday, and way closer than I was on my 40th! This is all simple math, I know, but as I give my attitude over to the Lord, He changes fear into serenity, and a crabby old lady into a contented soul.

On days when I see the world careening toward destruction, I start thinking I don’t want to be here when the “bovine poo” (as fellow blogger “Insanity Bytes” would say) hits the fan. That cowardly attitude is totally selfish, of course. The darker it gets, the more we’re needed to be the “light of the world.” As the “salt of the earth,” we’re needed to slow down the decay of civilization long enough to share the Truth with whoever will receive it. (Matthew 5:13-16) And I plan to do that until I take my last breath.

Still, the thought that I was in the home stretch (Psalm 90:10) was exhilarating at times. It was, that is, until Greg, a young man at our church, announced that his grandmother had passed at the age of 104. My first selfish thought was, Good grief, you mean I could be here another 34 years?! Greg shared that she had been faithfully serving the Lord to the very end, turning my mind back to a recent theme of my prayers:

Finishing well.

I have witnessed people close to me and people in the public eye running with God with enviable zeal for a period of time, only to fizzle out or crash in flames. Some have publicly proclaimed that they no longer believe in Jesus, while others merely show by the way they live their lives that He’s no longer important to them. One reason I find myself wanting to “go home” soon is that I do not want to be one of those people! I don’t want my flame to burn out or be snuffed out before its time. Lord, help me to finish well!

Sunday night Greg gave the devotional message at our church, and it proved very timely for me. It was about the parable of the wise and foolish virgins (bridesmaids) waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom.

In those days the bridegroom went to prepare a home for his bride, and when it was ready, he would return for her. The bridesmaids were to greet the returning bridegroom with their lamps, lighting the way to the wedding feast.

In this parable, five of the bridesmaids were wise, and five were foolish. The bridegroom was delayed, and as they were waiting, the lamps of the foolish ones burned out. Panicked, they begged for more oil from the wise ones, who had brought extra, but were told there may not be enough for all of them. While the foolish bridesmaids were out buying more oil, the bridegroom came. And by the time they returned, the banquet had started, and they were locked out.

This parable illustrates the importance of being ready when Jesus, the Bridegroom, returns for His bride (the Church); no one knows the day or the hour.

In most messages on this topic we are admonished, “Be prepared! He may come today!” But rarely do we hear, “Be prepared! It could be a long time.”

In other words, Be ready and stay ready.

Being a Christ-follower isn’t a walk down the aisle, a baptism, and you’re all set. Jesus’s admonition to “count the cost,” as well as this parable of the wise and foolish maidens, is telling us we’re in it for the long haul. Following Him isn’t a sprint followed by coasting; there is no “coasting.” The current of this fallen world is flowing in the direction of evil. If we stop swimming against it, we won’t stand still, we will be swept away. Our relationship with Jesus should never be neglected or taken for granted. Staying connected with Him is the only thing that can get us through this life uncorrupted.

When Jesus returns, He will be met with two responses: Some will be overjoyed at His coming, but many will be appalled, ashamed, and terrified. There may be those who have served Him halfheartedly or not at all since placing their trust in Him as Savior, and it’s not up to me to judge their hearts or whether or not they’ll be locked out of heaven. But I know I don’t want to be one of them. Jesus gave everything for me, how could I give Him less than all of me?

So, whether I live the seventy years described in Scripture or I last as long as Greg’s grandmother, I want to keep the Lord’s light burning brightly in my heart every day.

I want to finish well.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, my life is in Your hands, and I trust You with it, whether it’s for another day or another thirty years. Take me and use me however You desire, until I see You face to face. In Jesus’ name, amen.

One of my first blog posts shared my thoughts “On Turning 65.” It’s hard to believe I am now staring down the barrel (JK) of my 70th birthday! In honor of the occasion, I have these additional thoughts and memories to share:

Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life. Proverbs 16:31

My high school class had their big reunion last May. It had originally been planned as our 50th in 2021, but because of world-wide “complications” (‘nough said), it turned into our 51st.

We gals are pushing 70 by now, so it should have been no surprise that the vast majority have long given up on the hair coloring thing. As I walked into a room full of silver and white, I realized I was one of the few holdouts. By the end of the weekend, I had decided to ditch the denial and, as another famous white-haired character has sung, “LET IT GO!” I had already tried using a lighter shade each time I colored my hair, but it had only succeeded in taking it from dark brunette to a dingy, mousy brown. So, while some of my friends refer to the graying transition as a “journey,” I decided I didn’t have the time or patience for a “journey,” I’d just leap into the time machine and “git ‘er done.” I had a friend who was skilled in this kind of transformation, and couple of radical highlighting sessions later, I look more my age.

Or less like someone my age desperately trying to look 20 again. (*eye roll*) This was a huge step in my quest for “divine perspective.”

I grew up with an older sister who excelled in sports and possessed a lot more confidence than I had. Many a conversation with peers began with the question, “So, how’s your sister?” (“Fine.” And I’m fine, too, thanks for asking.)

But when I turned fourteen and was on a trip to Europe with my parents (and no sister), out of my usual environment I began to notice male heads turning and giving approving looks in my direction. I realized then that I might have a certain asset that the world values highly, although even at that age I knew it was the shallowest of qualities.

Beauty has its disadvantages, especially if one is prone to laziness. It’s easy to persuade oneself that attraction equals respect. Although I married young, I found that being “cute” could still open doors and how much men would do for a smile. As for younger men, I found it adorable when one of my students had a “crush” on the teacher, even as I pretended not to notice.

I don’t remember if I was in my 40’s or 50’s, but there came a day when I looked in the mirror and realized some things had gradually changed over time. I thought, Dang. I’m going to have to come up with a personality….

All my life I had known, deep down, that looks don’t matter to God. (“Man looks on the outside, but God looks at the heart.”) I liked to think I was always kind to the less attractive, patient with the elderly, and compassionate towards the disabled. I had spent time in the hospitals and nursing homes, ministering with my music. But now the thought of actually being one of them … I was going to have to get used to this.

I had several epiphanies as I grew older. One was the classic experience shared by many moms – being out with my daughter, having the nostalgic experience of having heads turn, then realizing those smiles were directed at my beautiful daughter, not her mom.

A more encouraging epiphany was learning that I was a favorite teacher in the high school, because “she’s fun,” “she’s funny,” “she tells good stories,” and other reasons having nothing to do with “pretty.”

Probably the most edifying sign that I was changing in the right direction, was when one of my pastors quoted me in his sermon and elaborated on the (apparently) profound thing I had said. Later on in the same sermon, he alluded to something else I had said! With a thrill I realized the Lord was transforming me. While I had been someone worth looking at, now I was becoming someone worth listening to! And I know – I have always known – that this is a step up. How many times did I try as a baby Christian to “witness” to an attentive young man, and having shared the most profound truths with him, realized he hadn’t heard a word I’d said?

So, the “journey” of my first seventy years hasn’t been from one “look” to another, but from the immature embracing of the superficial and fleeting to the deeper, the eternal. I’ve known all my life that this body is going to die and decay. How much of my life has been a frantic race trying to postpone the inevitable, slowing down the process for as long as possible? But what has made my life worth something were the hours I’ve spent pursuing God – running after Him, seeking His wisdom, which the wise Solomon declared was more valuable than gold … or rubies … or some sparkly thing… You get the point.

I know the Lord promised us we would have new bodies someday – perfect bodies that would never wear out or die. The longer I live, the more I look forward to that day.

At the same time, I don’t believe there will be mirrors in heaven. Sure, if we look at one another, in our resurrected bodies, we might be dazzled by our beautiful, yet recognizable loved ones. But we won’t care what we look like. We’ll scarcely be conscious of ourselves at all.

Our focus will be on Jesus.

Prayer: Lord, we rejoice in the life You’ve given us, even as we realize its brevity. Our fragile bodies are wearing out even as we speak. And so, we thank You even more for the promise of new birth, new life, new bodies to live in as we share eternity with You, giving You all the glory. In Jesus’ name and by the power of His blood, amen.

So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers. – I Corinthians 3:7-9a

My friend “C” had been experiencing what began as a nightmare that threatened to kill her faith. Falsely accused and sentenced to four months in jail, C had seen every prayer answered with a resounding “NO.” But the Lord was holding onto her through the whole ordeal, and as she clung to Him, she began to see His hand working through her in the lives of the people around her. I was privileged to have a part in the plan, as C led a small group study on prayer, using my book BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?).

In case you missed the beginning of her story, here are the first four episodes:

When God Says “No” … Again Part I: The Nightmare

When God Says “No” … Again Part 2: Eggs, Carrots, and Coffee Beans

When God Says “No” … Again Part 3: Tilling the Soil

When God Says “No” … Again Part 4: Sowing Seeds

C continued leading the small group study until her (early!) release, and happily, one of her “girls,” “D” was released soon after.

D had made a commitment Christ during her incarceration and was experiencing a brand-new life. Now drug-free, she was off the street and living with two other women, one a fellow believer. She landed a job – her best paying ever. She reconciled with her children after years of alienation. And she joined a church, which, due to a fire, was having services in a tent at the time. D faithfully came early to every service to help set up and stayed late to help take down.

And D wanted to be baptized. Since the town was located on one of the Great Lakes, it only made sense to have the late summer baptism on the beach. I was about four hours away, and there was talk of my coming for the baptism and meeting her. I thought it would be great fun to surprise D. But when it was said that as the author of BARRIERS I was somewhat “on a pedestal” in the eyes of the women in the jail, the notion raised a red flag for me. Meeting me was not what the coming event was about! Baptism is all about Jesus, period. C and I may have planted and watered, but the Lord was the One who had opened D’s heart, drawn her to Himself, and given her new life.

So, I suggested to C that maybe I could meet D sometime in the future. As I requested, C sent me pictures of the baptism, where it was easy to spot D; she was the one whose face was radiant!

I hope that someday I can go back to my old stomping ground and get together with C, my friend Kelly, who had introduced us, D, who was brought to faith through the circumstances the Lord brought about (or allowed), and maybe even C’s other friend, “R,” who has kept in touch with C and was just released at Christmastime. – Glory!

Maybe I’ll also pay a visit to the women’s section of the county jail, where there are still about a dozen copies of my guide to biblical prayer circulating. (Bible study, anyone?)

In closing, here’s a flashback that may give some encouragement to aspiring authors:

Years ago, I attended a writing and speaking conference, where part of the program was a sort of editorial “speed-dating.” Small tables were set up where writers had the opportunity to meet one-on-one with agents and editors from major publishing companies. We had fifteen minutes to make our pitch before moving on to the next publishing big shot. I had copies of my newly printed book, BARRIERS, to give to any rep who showed an interest.

As I proudly showed my “baby” to one editor, she took one look at the cover and rendered her judgment.

“We would never publish that.”

A bit taken aback, I asked why.

“The title. The cover. It’s too negative.” BARRIERS has the subtitle, “So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?” The background is a brick wall and barbed wire.

I turned the book over to show the woman the back cover design – the brick wall knocked down and Jesus’ nail-pierced hands reaching through the rubble.

“Doesn’t matter,” she informed me. “We don’t publish anything with ‘don’t,’ ‘can’t,’ or ‘won’t’ in the title.” Then she opened the book anyway and looked at the table of contents. Chapters had titles like “Barrier #3: Wrong Motives” and “Barrier #5: Wrong Priorities.” She made a sour face. “People don’t want to know what they’re doing wrong,” she said as she slid the book back across the table.

If you’re a writer, you’ve probably been there at one time or another. I was deflated.

Now I look back on that episode and smile. If I hadn’t been forced to be my own publisher, I couldn’t have sent so many (signed) books to the jail so quickly. And while it’s true that a book with a sunrise on the cover and a title like My Utmost for His Highest might be wildly successful with a much broader audience, would such a book on the book cart at a jail be snatched up by women who have hit rock bottom? I can imagine my reaction would be, That’s all I need, another book to remind me what a failure I am. But a book with a snarky title and a brick wall and barbed wire – that I could relate to! (I always told my speech students, “Consider your audience.”)

So, that’s the “divine perspective” I’ve arrived at while relating this story. The Lord not only has a plan for my writing, but He’s setting up scenarios long before they’re even on my radar.

So, whenever I’m disappointed, I just need to remind myself, God’s up to something. Just trust Him and wait.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for all you do for and through us – the times we’re exhilarated with the sense of Your moving in us, and the times we’re not at all happy with what’s happening, but You bring about good anyway. Help us to trust You always, in pleasant times and unpleasant. In Jesus’ name, amen.

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