Finding Time to Read the Bible

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In a recent blog post I read (I’ve forgotten where), the blogger mentioned that the book she was reading on Bible study didn’t discuss where to find the time. I had the same thought with a book I am reading on the subject. I guess the authors feel that once we are assured of the importance of Bible reading and study, we’ll make it a priority and make time. And I think that’s pretty much what it comes down to. If by finding time we mean we want a time that magically opens up with the solitude and inclination we need without a dozen other things crowding in…I just don’t think that’s going to happen, at least not regularly. Years ago our assistant pastor spoke of struggling to make time for Bible reading, and said to our senior pastor, an older, godly man, “I guess you don’t have trouble making time for Bible reading any more, do you?” He just laughed.

Finding the time is always going to be a struggle. There are always duties, distractions, and people clamoring for that time, and even an Enemy of our souls fighting against it. Instead of getting discouraged about it, we can just accept that it is a common problem and  prayerfully seek ways to deal with it. Perhaps reminding ourselves of reasons to read the Bible will renew our motivation.

We need to remember, too, that making time to read the Bible isn’t just about ticking off another duty. Every relationship thrives on communication. If we went for days without talking with our husbands except in the briefest necessary exchanges, we’d feel the effects pretty soon and realize we need some time alone together. Though sometimes we need to set up routines to establish good habits, taking time to read the Bible shouldn’t be a matter of rigid schedules, but rather of taking time to meet with the One Who loves us best.

So with these things in mind, here are some suggestions for carving time out to meet with the Lord:

1. Get up earlier or stay up later. I can hear you groaning. But for many of us, that’s the only way to get some time alone.

2. Keep the Bible handy. One friend with three small children close in age kept her Bible out in her kitchen. She couldn’t set aside a longer period of solitude, but she could read in smaller snatches through the day.

3. Listen. Some people like to listen to recorded versions of the Bible while driving, exercising, making dinner, etc.

4. Plan for it after a natural break in the day. It’s hard for many of us to stop in the middle of a morning or afternoon and put everything aside to read, but a break in the routine, when we’re shifting gears anyway, can help us work in some time for reading, like after a meal, after taking the kids to school, etc.

5. Meal time, especially if you eat alone.

6. Waiting time. We usually pull out our phones or a book if we have to wait at a doctor’s office or in car line at school, but that can be a good time for some Bible reading.

7. Establish a routine. Once we get used to setting aside a certain time for Bible reading, it’s not such a scramble to look for that time every day.

8. Don’t wait for perfection. One problem with a routine is that we can’t always figure out how to function when the routine is disrupted, like when we’re traveling or someone is sick or we have small children at home. I wrote a post some time back called Encouragement for mothers of young children about the topic of trying to find time for devotions with little ones in the house. Though I normally like getting up early and having solitude and quietness for Bible reading, that just didn’t work with little ones. Yet God enabled me to read and profit from it while they kept me company or played near me, even though usually I couldn’t concentrate under those circumstances.

9. Anything is better than nothing. Normally I like a good amount of time for Bible reading or study, but when a few moments was all I truly had, God often gave me just what I needed in those few moments in just a verse or two.

10. Talk with your husband, roommates, siblings, whoever you live with. Years ago I caught part of a radio program where the preacher was scolding women who wanted to spend early morning time to have devotions, saying the husband as the leader should have that time, since the wife had “all day” in which she could have devotions. The man obviously had not spent a whole day at home alone with kids. That mentality is so wrong on many levels. Not long after that a missionary speaking at our church mentioned protecting that time for his wife, a much better example of servant leadership and love. If the only way either parent can have devotions is for one of them to watch the children, then they can do that for each other. If a particular time of day is the best time for two people in a house, they can work out different locations if they get too distracted in the same room. Whatever conflict there might be about time and place preferences, talk with each other to work out the best solution for both and be willing to compromise.

11. Pray. In the blog post I referred to earlier, I mentioned that sometimes I’d get to the end of the day and lament to the Lord that I had no idea when I could have read my Bible that day. I began instead to pray at the beginning  of the day for wisdom and alertness for those moments when I could, and that made a profound difference.

12. Set something aside. If we have times to read other books, peruse Facebook, watch TV, or play games on our phones, we have time to read the Bible. I admit, if I sit down to relax for a few minutes with a book and realize I haven’t read my Bible yet that day, I don’t always have the best attitude about laying down my book and picking up my Bible. But when I confess that to the Lord and then go ahead, He graciously speaks to me through His Word. We do need time to relax as well, but that shouldn’t come at the expense of time in God’s Word. He knows our needs, and we can ask Him for both time to spend in His Word and for some down time.

What about you? What ways have you found to make time for Bible reading?

Sharing at Thought-Provoking Thursday and Works For Me Wednesday.

Friday’s Fave Five

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It’s Friday, time to look back over the blessings of the week with Susanne at Living to Tell the Story and other friends.

It’s been another week of simple blessings. Here are a few:

1. A three-day weekend. More time to get things done, spend with family, and eat grilled burgers. 🙂 And to be thankful, in this case, for the men and women who sacrificed so the rest of us could have a “normal” life.

2. Getting home moments before a storm. Always nice to be inside when there is a storm out, but that “just made it” feeling is a nice one.

3. Baby laughs – his own and the ones he causes. There is just a special feeling of…accomplishment, I guess, when making a baby smile or laugh. And he’s always been cute (biased grandmother’s opinion, of course), but he’s full of such antics now. Lately when his parents give him a “pretend” drink of their coffee (just holding the cup to his lips – he wants that even though he’s not getting anything), when he’s done, he’ll say, “Ahh!”

4. A simple prescription refill. It would be too long and boring to go into details, but I needed a prescription refill that I thought either the doctor, pharmacy, or insurance company were going to give me problems about because I had finished it before the prescribed time (they have done so before. It’s an ointment, not a pill, so hard to make the dosage last the prescribed time). The doctor wanted me to come in rather than refilling it over the phone, but everything else went as smoothly as it possible could on all fronts. Sometimes we can build up potential problems in our minds before we even start.

5. A baby gorilla. On our zoo trip a few weeks ago, two of the gorillas were expecting. One just had her baby this week. Cute!

Happy Friday!

Book Review: Christy

ChristyChristy by Catherine Marshall was the May selection for Carrie‘s Reading to Know Classics Book Club. I had read it decades ago and looked forward to this opportunity to revisit it.

Christy is historical fiction based on the experiences of the author’s mother, who went as a single lady to teach school in an impoverished Appalachian town.

Christy responds to the appeal of the founder of a mission to Cutter Gap, TN. She’s 19 and has not finished college, but she believes she can be a help to the mission. When she gets there, she’s overwhelmed by the poverty, ignorance, and superstition. In her youthful zeal, she’s all fired up to do something and gets frustrated that others haven’t yet. She oversteps her bounds a couple of times, and Miss Alice, a Quaker lady who works at the mission (she seems to be the head under the founder) has to gently remind her that she needs to find out first how the founder wants things done, and she has to learn she can’t come barging in as an outsider telling people how they need to change. Christy clashes at first with Dr. MacNeil, who was actually raised in the area: she feels he needs to correct people’s superstitions, particularly those that are unsafe from a health and medical standpoint. But because he is from the area, he knows that would only alienate people: he feels he has to work within their system, showing better ways and giving advice gently, carefully, and only a bit at a time.

In one sense this is something of a coming-of-age novel as Christy develops from a zealous but immature teenager into a more mature young woman. One part of that coming of age is her faith journey. I don’t think this book was marketed as Christian fiction – I don’t think that was a genre at the time, at least not like it is now – but I believe it’s a natural part of the story that her beliefs would be challenged, matured, and solidified. When she first leaves home, she knows surprisingly little. These days candidates for any mission are examined about their beliefs: maybe that wasn’t done then. But she experiences a few crises of faith. One comes in the face of hardship and evil. the other comes about partly through Dr. MacNeil, an agnostic who looks at God as only something of a “starter-force,” and David Grantland, the minister, who is something of a liberal. One of the saddest scenes is when David and Christy visit a woman who is dying, and she asks him to read portions of the Bible about heaven, which he does, but when she tries to talk about it, it comes out that he doesn’t really believe it, at least not like it says.

In one of the best passages in the book, in which Christy has had a fairly wrenching experience and is wrestling with the evil she has seen, Miss Alice says:

You’re sensitive, Christy. So am I. You want to know why seeing stark evil hasn’t made me rough or bitter?…Remember, I said is was God who was prying the little girl’s hands off her eyes. As if He were saying, ‘I can’t use ivory tower followers. They’re plaster of Paris, they crumble and fall apart in life’s press. So you’ve got to see life the way it really is before you can do anything about evil. You cannot vanquish it. I can. But in My world the battle against evil has to be a joint endeavor. You and Me. I, God, in you, can have the victory every time.’ After that, He was always right there beside me, looking at the dreadful sights with compassion and love and heartbreak. His caring and His love were too real for bitterness to grow in me…

Perceptive people like you wound more easily than others. But if we’re going to work on God’s side, we have to decide to open our hearts to the griefs and pain all around us. It’s not an easy decision. A dangerous one too. And a tiny narrow door to enter into a whole new world.

But in that world a great experience waits for us: meeting the One who’s entered there before us. He suffers more than any of us could because His is the deepest emotion and the highest perception…He doesn’t just leave us and Himself in the anguish. At the point where His ultimate in love meets His total capacity to absorb and feel all our agony, there the miracle happens and the exterior situation changes. I’ve seen that miracle….

Love has mending power. All of us have watched it work in small situations. Well, what I am talking about is a vast multiplication of that power (pp. 94-96)

Later it is revealed that Miss Alice has very personal reasons for these conclusions, having wrestled with the hand of evil leveled against herself.

Besides these issues, feuding between families, battling the moonshine business, handling 67 students from all  different grades and a shortage of supplies, and, later, a typhoid epidemic are all factors. Christy discovers that despite the ignorance and hardships in the mountains, there is also great beauty and dear people.

Quietly, Miss Alice was demonstrating this God of love and beauty too — in small ways and in large. For a few, the concept that life did not have to be all starkness and misery was slowly taking root. Tentatively, timidly – -constantly encouraged by Miss Alice — some of the women were at last reaching out for light and beauty and joy (p. 109).

For a few decades, the plot of a teacher coming from a more civilized area leaving home and going to work in a less civilized one got overworked (usually with a teacher from back East going to the untamed West), to the point that I got pretty tired of it and couldn’t read it any more. But this was one of the first, and the struggles are real.

What do you do when strength is called for and you have no strength? You evoke a power beyond your own and use stamina you did not know you had. You open your eyes in the morning grateful that you can see the sunlight of yet another day. You draw yourself to the edge of the bed and then put one foot in front of the other and keep going. You weep with those who gently close the eyes of the dead, and somehow, from the salt of your tears, comes endurance for them and for you. You pour out that resurgence to minister to the living (p. 471).

Somehow I did not see the TV show from the 90s based on the book, but I am tempted to look it up some time. Kellie Martin does seem well-cast as Christie.

While I would not agree with all the theology in the book (most of it coming from a Quaker perspective), it does contain a good deal of truth. I enjoyed visiting this book once again and retracing Christy’s journey.

(This review will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)

What’s On Your Nightstand: May 2015

 What's On Your NightstandThe folks at 5 Minutes For Books host What’s On Your Nightstand? the fourth Tuesday of each month in which we can share about the books we have been reading and/or plan to read.

I know the months seem to fly by, but this one just zoomed somehow. But I was able to get in some good reading:

Since last time I have completed:

The Monday Morning Club: You’re Not Alone — Encouragement For Women in Ministry by Claudia Barba, reviewed here. Very helpful.

Feeding Your Appetites: Taking Control of What’s Controlling You by Stephen Arterburn, reviewed here. Good.

His Last Bow: Some Later Reminiscences of Sherlock HolmesThe Valley of Fear, and The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, audiobooks, reviewed here, here, and here respectively, which finishes off the good detective’s stories. I think my favorite was The Valley of Fear. I enjoyed getting to know the original Holmes.

Taken, the latest by Dee Henderson, reviewed here. Christian fiction, a kidnap victim’s story from the time she escapes and seeks out a private detective in order to capture the ones responsible for taking her as well as others. Very good.

Gentle Savage Still Seeking the End of the Spear: The Autobiography of a Killer and the Oral History of the Waorani by Menkaye Aenkaedi with Kemo and Dyowe, reviewed here. The authors are Waorani, formerly known as Aucas, who speared to death Jim Elliot and four other missionaries who had tried to make contact to share the gospel, telling their story, what’s happened to their tribe since then, and proposing some excellent ways for the tribe to move ahead in the future.

I’m currently reading:

Walking With God in the Season of Motherhood by Melissa B. Kruger

Christy by Catherine Marshall for Carrie‘s Reading to Know Classics Book Club for May. Almost done – should have a review up later this week.

The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, Book 5: The Unmapped Sea by Maryrose Wood, audiobook. A new little Ashton is on the way! Will he or she have the same…issues as its father?

Growing Up Amish: A Memoir by Ira Wagler, nonfiction. Just started this and am thoroughly drawn in.

Next Up:

Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography by Laura Ingalls Wilder, edited by Pamela Smith Hill.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry for Carrie‘s Reading to Know Classics Book Club for June.

Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens

Strait of Hormuz by Davis Bunn

I’m coming along well with my reading plans for the year: I’ve read 5 out of 12 classics for the Back to the Classics Challenge and should finish two more in the next few weeks, and I’ve finished 8 out of 12 for the TBR Pile Challenge. If I finish what I have listed, I can choose from the remaining ones on my reading plan lists, plus I have several new books accumulated on my nightstand and Kindle app. Now I just need a week’s vacation to delve into them. 🙂

Happy Reading!

 

Book Review: Gentle Savage Still Seeking the End of the Spear: The Autobiography of a Killer and the Oral History of the Waorani

Gentle SavageMenkaye was one of several Waorani (then known as Auca) men responsible for spearing to death Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming, and Ed McCully, five missionaries who had come to try to reach them with the gospel, in what was known as Operation Auca. Gentle Savage Still Seeking the End of the Spear: The Autobiography of a Killer and the Oral History of the Waorani by Menkaye Aenkaedi with Kemo and Dyowe is Menkaye’s effort to tell his story in his own words – at least, as close to his own words as possible. He cannot write, so he shared his story verbally with someone who spoke his language as well as Spanish, and then it was translated from Spanish to English.

Menkaye begins with what could be called “the Moipa years.” Moipa was a highly skilled Waorani hunter who, out of fear of reprisals for the people he had killed, began killing almost everyone who crossed him or who might someday: men, women, children (who might grow up to take revenge), grandparents, anyone. The people lived in constant fear of him, and many attempts on his life did not succeed. When he finally did die, killing at the slightest provocation, for any real, perceived, or potential threat or wrong had become a way of life. That included any outsiders. Their encounters with non-Waorani had not gone well, and what could they want anyway except to encroach on their territory or to steal from them or hurt them? Better to kill them off before they struck first, they reasoned.

The missionaries had known that the Waorani, or Aucas, as they knew them, were violent, but they had learned some Waorani words from Dayuma, a woman who had escaped the tribe some years before, had flown Nate Saint’s plane over them a number of times, shouting out Auca/Waorani phrases, had dropped gifts to them and received some in return, so they thought the people were receptive to meeting them. They set up camp in their territory, and a man and two women  from the tribe came to visit them, the man even going up for a ride. Everything seemed to be going well. But then a group of Waorani came at them and speared them and tore the fabric off the plane.

Years later, when Elisabeth Elliot had come to know them and asked them why they had speared the men, they replied, “For no purpose.” In Olive Fleming Liefeld’s book, Unfolding Destinies, when she went back to visit and asked the same question, they told her they had not understood the photos the men had shown them. They thought the photos of Dayuma meant that she had died, supposedly at the men’s hands. Later still, Steve Saint related in End of the Spear that when he went back to live and work with the Waorani for a time, he was told there was a disagreement between them about one’s man’s wanting to marry one of the women. Some who were involved got angry, and to divert their turning on each other, someone turned their attention to the missionaries, starting a raid. Menkaye relates that all of these are true. One of the men involved in the argument they were having about marriage began to say that the photos meant that the men were cannibals, and they should spear them before the men killed and ate them.

This event that shook the world is given relatively few pages in Menkaye’s book. With all the people they had killed, these men were just a blip on their radar, another threat averted. But some time later, Dayuma came back to the tribe and told them they had made God angry and they needed to stop killing. Amazingly, they were willing to lay down their spears and hear more. Rachel Saint (Nate’s sister) and Elisabeth and Valerie Elliot (Jim’s wife and young daughter) were invited to come and teach them. Though I had read in Through Gates of Splendor and other books that over time several of the Waorani had come to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior, it was touching and beautiful to hear this experience described in more detail by Menkaye and to hear him, Kemo, and Dyowe tell of the joy and freedom in their hearts. Dyowe told Rachel:

I want you to know…that I was one of the men…who killed your brother Nathanael when he was on the beach with the others. I know that God wants to forgive me. But I want to tell you too to forgive me for the things that I have done. I didn’t understand anything back then, and I didn’t know who they were. But I will say that I truly know God has forgiven me today. I want to give myself to Him. It was not only your brother who died. Many, many people died besides him at the point of my spear. But today is the last of my own spear for me. I have found a new spear to pierce the hearts of many people (p. 231).

Almost immediately they became concerned for other branches of the tribe that had broken off to live in new areas, and they tried to reach them with the gospel. Some were martyred in the attempt, and most of these other branches are still not believers, thus the second part of Menkaye’s rather bulky title about still seeking the end of the spear. In fact, one of the end notes relates that while the book was in progress, another raid had taken place against oil company employees.

The next part of Menkaye’s book tells of changes that have taken place in the Waoranis, and the last few chapters, some of the most valuable for anyone seeking to work with tribal people, are his vision for his people. He and other Waorani are not opposed to progress and to changes. They see them as inevitable. Menkaye’s own son attended aviation school in Michigan in the US. They don’t want their young people to lose their Waorani skills and heritage completely, though, and they want any future work within the tribe to be handled differently than it has been. In the past, people were sent in who pretty much took over instead of coming under the tribal leadership – even Rachel and Dayuma. Rachel wanted to set Dayuma in charge, but either Dayuma wasn’t quite cut out for it or the authority went to her head or she backslid or something – Menkaye details a number of problems with her leadership. To be generous, this was something Rachel and Dayuma had not been trained for, and mistakes were made. Menkaye and the others are not bitter and they appreciated everything done for them, especially helping them to understand the gospel, but they did want to point out some of the issues and correct them.

The ones who should be choosing the leaders are the Waorani themselves, based upon what we ourselves see in those candidates, young or old, who have demonstrated maturity from a Biblical perspective, and have carefully studied the Bible in order to know the principles in depth that will be taught and lived out. Never should it be a random choice based on a superficial view of any person., especially someone from the Outside (p. 323).

Reading this makes me appreciate even more the emphasis among missionaries our churches have supported in leading rather than driving the people and in training up leaders from within the people group they are ministering to rather than continuing to bring in leadership from the outside.

I’m sure another difficulty in working with tribal people is how to navigate changes. One doesn’t want to unduly influence their culture, but one doesn’t want to hold them back, either. That is all I can figure was going on when the people began to ask Rachel for clothes and boots, and she said they had done fine without them before and didn’t need them now, according to Menkaye. But they had always lived and worked in the jungle before, where it was shady, and Rachel had them out in the open under the hot sun clearing space for an airstrip and didn’t seem to understand they wanted protection from the sun beating on their backs. I think either she was trying not to change them in that way, or she was trying to squelch their looking for handouts, but evidently this is one area where she and Elisabeth disagreed: Elisabeth thought they should have clothes and arranged for them. (They kept wearing clothes but had mixed emotions about shoes. They found that boots protected them from “thorns, ants, and vipers,” but the weight of them felt odd to them, and “when we were climbing the steep mountain ridges, they made us slip in the mud and slide downward” [p. 227].)

I’ve mentioned before in other missionary book reviews (particularly here) that some people think of these primitive tribal communities as simple people frolicking in the sun who shouldn’t be disturbed by missionaries and businesses. Dr. Jim Yost says in the forward, “The tendency to idealize or romanticize ‘primitive’ culture falls to crushing blows here as the reality of life in the upper Amazon rainforest plays out in gruesome details often too explicit or vivid for the cushioned Western mind.” (p. v). How many of us would have wanted our culture to remain as it was hundreds of years ago just to preserve it? Progress has its problems but also its opportunities.

Menkaye and other Waorani are willing to embrace these opportunities while still maintaining the Waorani culture and autonomy. He has great ideas for them to integrate with the “World of the City,” to help his people explore endeavors in which they can make their own money, and to help their young people have the best opportunities for a changing future.

I do not intend to offend the churches of The Outside World who perceive their role as one of coming in to show us how to do things, but in reality, we can learn equally from each other. Is that not true? Do we not have many things to teach each other and to learn from each other? (p. 329).

If you bring us a new idea, we will welcome that, too. But we will always weigh and balance the influences and outcomes of every new component, and determine together what projects are useful and valuable, and which ones may be harmful in some way (p. 338).

The Waorani are storytellers, but their way of sharing stories is different from ours. There is much more detail than I would personally care to know about some issues, much less than I wanted to know about others, and the stories are laid out differently than we would be used to. There is an appendix of Waorani myths and legends at the end: some seem odd, some are gruesome. But then, they would probably think the same way about our fairly tales and Mother Goose rhymes.

I think this book is incredibly valuable to anyone interested in the heritage of the ministries of the Saints, Elliots, and others who initiated “Operation Auca,” and to anyone with an interest in missions, particularly in ministry to tribal peoples. I hope Menkaye lives a long time to carry out his vision and that others take it up as well.

(This review will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)

Laudable Linkage

Here are some noteworthy reads that caught my eye this week:

How to Prevent Brotherly Love.

Forgiveness: What If He Isn’t Sorry? Excellent, well thought-out, thorough article on this subject. Too many people have a glib answer to this which overlooks some Scriptural principles, so I am very happy to see some of this articulated.

Wedded Bliss: 10 Years Married to a Sports Addict. Good article about dealing with a husband’s hobbies. I don’t think a wife necessarily has to jump in and experience it with him – I think it’s ok to have some different tastes – but there are great thoughts here about how to “honor his appropriate pursuit of” his hobby rather than attempting to “manipulate, belittle, or guilt him away from the thing he loves.” And of course this works with the husband in regard to the wife’s interests as well.

Introverts in the Dearest Place on Earth, HT to Challies.

On Writing Well (5 Big Tips)

You Can Avoid This Rookie Writing Error.

My cousin shared this helpful graphic for which holiday honors which service people:

Honoring those in service

Of course, it’s good to honor those who protect and defend our country at every opportunity.

Happy Saturday!

Friday’s Fave Five

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It’s Friday, time to look back over the blessings of the week with Susanne at Living to Tell the Story and other friends.

I almost didn’t do a FFF today. It hasn’t been a bad week, but most the things I could think of to share are things I’ve already shared before, so I didn’t think it would be all that interesting to readers. But of course we’re to be thankful for all things, not just the first time we experience them. 🙂 So here goes:

1. Icy Hot patches and spray. I’ve had some back issues this week, and the patches help immensely. The spray doesn’t work quite as well, but it does help those areas I can’t reach or coordinate getting a patch to.

2. Dinner prepared by my daughter-in-law. I not only enjoy being “off” from kitchen duty sometimes, but I also enjoy not having to think about what to make. I’ve been in a rut this week, tired of the “same old stuff” yet not inspired enough to look up something new. 🙂

3. Peanut Butter Rice Krispie Treats with melted chocolate chips on top. It hit me today that I hadn’t had these in a while, and they sounded so good – thankfully I thought of them before a trip to the store, so I was able to get the ingredients! On a side note, this is the only thing I use Rice Krispies for – we’re not into cereal much. I wish they’d make a small box just big enough for a pan of these treats.

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I only made a half recipe so as to have not too much temptation on hand. 🙂

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4. A desk chair I can nap in. When I chose this office chair, I specifically chose one that reclined and had a back tall enough to support my head so I could lean back and take a quick power nap sometimes. My sleep patterns have been wacky this week and those naps have been very needed.

5. Our first megawatt of power. My husband had solar panels installed on our house several weeks ago, and our power company adjusts our power bill according to how much we’ve used and how much we’ve generated. This month our power bill was $26 and change! Nice! Of course, the savings for now are going to pay for the system, but once that breaks even, it will be very nice indeed.

We haven’t reached summertime temperatures yet, but it has been warm enough to get hot and sweaty. Thursday was overcast and delightfully cool, especially when a breeze picked up. I know in a couple of weeks we’ll be out of cool days until fall, so I am treasuring them up.

Hope you’ve had a great week as well! Happy Friday!

Book Review: The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes

Case Book of SHThe Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes is the last of the Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It opens with a preface from Doyle himself, rather than Watson, saying that “I fear that Mr. Sherlock Holmes may become like one of those popular tenors who, having outlived their time, are still tempted to make repeated farewell bows to their indulgent audiences. This must cease and he must go the way of all flesh, material or imaginary.” He says that he “had fully determined at the conclusion of The Memoirs to bring Holmes to an end, as I felt that my literary energies should not be directed too much into one channel,” but he later revived him (reportedly due to public demand, though he doesn’t say so here). He goes on to note:

I have never regretted it, for I have not in actual practice found that these lighter sketches have prevented me from exploring and finding my limitations in such varied branches of literature as history, poetry, historical novels, psychic research, and the drama. Had Holmes never existed I could not have done more, though he may perhaps have stood a little in the way of the recognition of my more serious literary work.

The Wikipedia article on Doyle states that he “wrote seven historical novels, which he and many critics regarded as his best work,” as well as other pieces, but he’s best known for Sherlock Holmes.

A couple of variations in this volume are two stories written as by Holmes himself rather than Watson and one written from a third person point of view. One of the two stories by Holmes occurred when he criticized Watson’s style of storytelling, and Watson told him he should give it a try; the second occurred after Holmes had retired and was no longer in touch with Watson when he came upon an unexpected case.

Twelve stories are included in this book, with some editions arranging them in different orders. The very last Holmes story written was “The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place” in 1927.

The stories include a variety of cases brought to Holmes’ attention in a variety of ways, most often by someone connected with the case. The include a woman seen only in a veil, a mother accused of vampirism, a missing diamond, the theft of papers from a dead son’s trunk, a man searching for two other men with an unusual last name, a jealous wife, an unusual sea creature, a missing soldier, and a wax effigy of Holmes. In one of them, Holmes says, “In all my chronicles the reader will find no case which brought me so completely to the limit of my powers. Even my imagination could conceive no solution to the mystery.”

They occur in a variety of times as well: some when Watson was rooming with Holmes, some when he was not, one after Holmes retirement.

A few sentences stood out to me concerning Holmes’ regard for Watson. In “The Case of the Blanched Soldier,” one of the stories written from Holmes point of view rather than Watson’s, he says, “Speaking of my old friend and biographer, I would take this opportunity to remark that if I burden myself with a companion in my various little inquiries it is not done out of sentiment or caprice, but it is that Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances.” He says in this same story, “The good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our association. I was alone.” In “The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone,” the one written in the third person, it’s said that, “Watson was always the man of action, and he rose to the occasion.” In one story in which Watson was wounded, Holmes cried out, “You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say that you are not hurt!” Watson thought to himself, “It was worth a wound–it was worth many wounds–to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.”

After receiving a note from Holmes in one case which simply read, “Come at once if convenient–if inconvenient come all the same. S.H.,” Watson muses:

The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become one of them. As an institution I was like the violin, the shag tobacco, the old black pipe, the index books, and others perhaps less excusable. When it was a case of active work and a comrade was needed upon whose nerve he could place some reliance, my role was obvious. But apart from this I had uses. I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. He liked to think aloud in my presence. His remarks could hardly be said to be made to me–many of them would have been as appropriately addressed to his bedstead–but none the less, having formed the habit, it had become in some way helpful that I should register and interject. If I irritated him by a certain methodical slowness in my mentality, that irritation served only to make his own flame-like intuitions and impressions flash up the more vividly and swiftly. Such was my humble role in our alliance.

Other interesting features in this story: in one Holmes refused to eat, and when Watson asked why, he replied, “Because the faculties become refined when you starve them. Why, surely, as a doctor, my dear Watson, you must admit that what your digestion gains in the way of blood supply is so much lost to the brain. I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix. Therefore, it is the brain I must consider.” I don’t think that’s the wisest course of action for most people, but it is interesting that he thought of himself primarily in terms of his brain. That appears to be a factor in his suppression of emotion and lack of relationships as well. Holmes says in one story: “Women have seldom been an attraction to me, for my brain has always governed my heart, but I could not look upon her perfect clear-cut face, with all the soft freshness of the downlands in her delicate colouring, without realizing that no young man would cross her path unscathed.”

Another observation I thought unusual for Holmes occurred when a man was taking a potion to seem to become more youthful: “There is danger there–a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of cesspool may not our poor world become?”

One sentence that struck me as particularly clever: “When his castle in the air fell down, it buried him beneath the ruins.”

It’s been fun to read of the “real”…or at least, the original Sherlock Holmes. One of my main curiosities was whether he was really as rude as some modern conceptions of him make him out to be. I was happy to find he wasn’t. He was eccentric in some ways and could be egoistical, but he knew how to interact with people when he needed to and could even be kind and comforting when needed. He was a classic introvert and only had a very few close friends. I was surprised to find that his nemesis, Moriarty, only appeared in two books, with just a mention in one of them. I was also pleased to find that Watson was not a doddering old man, but was vibrant, described as “fleet of foot” in one story, and that Holmes valued him for his medical skills as well as his skills with a revolver, besides his being a good sounding board.

I was concerned, before reading the stories, about his rumored drug addiction, but it wasn’t enough to be an addiction, only appeared in a couple of books, and Watson talked him out of using drugs any more. I was also concerned because I had heard there were instances of spiritism in the book, but I did not find any. I did just read yesterday that Doyle was heavily involved in such, but Holmes, although he was not a religious man, did use various Biblical phrases and did not participate in anything like spiritism. There were a couple of cases where there were evidences of voodoo or something similar, but those involved were always portrayed as being from some island or another.

Here are my reviews of the other Holmes books:

A Study in Scarlet (novel)
The Sign of the Four (novel)
The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (short stories)
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (short stories)
The Hound of the Baskervilles (novel)
The Return of Sherlock Holmes (short stories)
His Last Bow: Some Reminiscences of Sherlock Holmes (short stories)
The Valley of Fear (novel)

I listened to the first books read by various narrators, and the last ones read by Simon Vance in this collection, who once again did a wonderful job. This edition of all the Holmes stories together came through on a good sale, so I got it, but it was maddening that the divisions weren’t according to the books. They are just run together one after the other, which is fine if you’re listening to them that way, but it’s hard to find a particular book. Thankfully one listener posted a table of contents which shows where the various books begin and end.

I don’t feel all warm and fuzzy toward these stories as I do some other books, so I don’t know that I’d reread or relisten to them, at least not any time soon. But they were fun while they lasted! And Holmes is such an iconic figure with so many cultural references to him, it’s nice to be familiar with him now.

(This review will also be linked to Semicolon‘s Saturday Review of Books.)

Spots and Wrinkles

Spots of spilled food or splashed mud and wrinkled clothes can usually be repaired, thankfully, but other spots are more of a problem.

In regular exchanges between Father Tim and his wife, Cynthia, in Jan Karon’s Mitford books, she joyously exclaims that she loves  something, then he will ask, “What don’t you love?” She usually replies with three items, one of which is often “age spots.”

I share her dislike and dismay over those pesky blotches. They’re popping up all too frequently, and there doesn’t seem to be much one can do about them.

Another dismaying sign of aging is wrinkles. Hopefully most of one’s wrinkles will mark laugh lines rather than frown creases, but neither is really a welcome sight. I have dry skin, which was responsible for my not having many pimples in my teens, for which I was glad. But I didn’t learn until later that same dry skin would betray me by wrinkling earlier than my oilier counterparts. In the hormonal changes of middle age, I once experienced the ultimate injustice of a big fat pimple right in the middle of a wrinkled forehead. It didn’t seem like those two should go together!

Spots and wrinkles in one’s character, though, are worse than the biggest age spot and the most wrinkle-prone linen and harder to deal with. Too often my good deeds are splotched with wrong motives. Fissures of selfishness seem to grow deeper and longer every day. My efforts to clean up those spots or iron out those wrinkles only seem to add more.

In the 1720s, Benjamin Franklin “conceiv’d the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection. I wish’d to live without committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into.” He made a chart listing thirteen virtues, and placed a dot beside each one he violated every day, with the goal that eventually he’d be able to live with a completely clean chart. But it was never spotless. He had to admit that “I never arrived at the perfection I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short of it, yet I was, by the endeavour, a better and a happier man than I otherwise should have been if I had not attempted it.”

Even though we might become “better and happier” by trying to develop virtue, we can never become perfect, and perfection is what is required to be right with God and to get into heaven. Revelation 21:27 says of heaven, “But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life” (ESV). Jesus said, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” Even if we could be completely perfect and sin-free from this moment forward, we have all the sins of our past still spotting our souls.

It would be hopeless except that “Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish” (Ephesians 5:25-27).

Only Jesus is free of spots or wrinkles of wrong thinking and wrongdoing.

How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? Hebrews 9:14.

 Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers; But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. (1 Peter 1:18-19).

Only Jesus can cleanse us and remove the wrinkles in the depths of our souls:

And from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, and the first begotten of the dead, and the prince of the kings of the earth. Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. (Revelation 1:5)

This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth: But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:5-9)

I don’t know whether our bodies in heaven with retain the spots and wrinkles they had on earth, but I am sure we won’t care then. However, I am intensely, eternally thankful that when we believe on Jesus Christ as our own Lord and Savior, our souls are thoroughly cleansed now and through all eternity from any hint of a blemish or wrinkle.

Be diligent that ye may be found of him in peace, without spot, and blameless. (2 Peter 3:14b).

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I lay my sins on Jesus,
The spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all, and frees us
From the accursed load.
I bring my guilt to Jesus,
To wash my crimson stains
White in His blood most precious,
Till not a spot remains.

I lay my wants on Jesus:
All fullness dwells in Him;
He heals all my diseases,
He doth my soul redeem.
I lay my griefs on Jesus,
My burdens and my cares;
He from them all releases;
He all my sorrows shares.

I rest my soul on Jesus,
This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,
I on His breast recline.
I love the Name of Jesus,
Emmanuel, Christ, the Lord;
Like fragrance on the breezes
His Name abroad is poured.

I long to be like Jesus,
Meek, loving, lowly, mild;
I long to be like Jesus,
The Father’s holy Child;
I long to be with Jesus,
Amid the heavenly throng;
To sing with saints His praises,
To learn the angels’ song.

~ Horatius Bonar

Just as I am, and waiting not
to rid my soul of one dark blot,
to thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

~ Charlotte Elliott

Sharing at Thought-Provoking Thursday.

God’s Messengers

I’ve been going through some old posts lately and came across this, from when I used to host “The Week in Words.” It was originally posted August 9, 2010, and it convicted me again today:

From the Elisabeth Elliot e-mail devotionals, this taken from her book A Lamp For My Feet:

How can this person who so annoys or offends me be God’s messenger? Is God so unkind as to send that sort across my path? Insofar as his treatment of me requires more kindness than I can find in my own heart, demands love of a quality I do not possess, asks of me patience which only the Spirit of God can produce in me, he is God’s messenger. God sends him in order that he may send me running to God for help.

Sometimes the very circumstance in our lives that we’re chafing against is the one God is using to work something necessary into our hearts and characters that we would not learn or develop any other way.

That goes along with something I read at Washing the Feet of the Saints:

In a recent conversation with a delightful young friend, we considered what it means to die to self, particularly in the ordinary tasks of every day life, and to live sacrificially in our home and community to the glory of Christ.

The “dying” this young lady referenced was a simple household chore that had nothing to do with family/elderly caregiving, but it’s application was obvious. My friend lamented that it should be easier to put her desires and contentment aside for the benefit of other. “But then it wouldn’t be dying,” I countered.