“Despise not thy mother when she is old.”

I was reading on a completely different topic yesterday when I was brought up short as the writer quoted the second half of Proverbs 23:22:

Hearken unto thy father that begat thee, and despise not thy mother when she is old.

We usually think of the word “despise” by today’s definition: “to regard with contempt, distaste, disgust, or disdain; scorn; loathe” (Dictionary.com). But sometimes the word translated “despise” in the KJV has an added layer in addition to those: “to hold as insignificant” (Bible StudyTools.com).

As a general rule, older people aren’t very well respected in American society. Oh, we might respect our individual grandparents and have a general feeling that we should be kind to older people. But they are often the target of jokes and stereotypes, and get behind one in a slow-moving vehicle or try to maneuver through a store having “Senior’s Day,” and frustration (and worse feelings) can abound. We often think of them as “out of touch” and do our best to just tolerate them.

Scripture has a different view of the elderly:

Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: I am the LORD. (Leviticus 19:32)

The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness. (Proverbs 16:31)

The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the grey head. (Proverbs 20:29)

I have to admit there can be frustrations in dealing with older people, which have become even more acute to me with my mother-in-law moving here: going through the same conversational loop four times in twenty minutes; a loss of social graces they once had; fretting and fears that they once could keep in perspective and under control but that now run rampant, etc. I don’t say these things to “talk down” about her or any older person, but just to be honest. The first verse I mentioned spoke to me in reminding me not to let those frustrations spill over into negative attitudes. We may not always have warm, fuzzy, altruistic, loving feelings when we’re helping or serving others — sometimes we do, but sometimes those come afterward (as one beloved professor used to say, “Good feelings follow right actions”), but we can guard against the negative.

A verse that I sometimes pray just before going to see my mother-in-law is “Strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power, unto all patience and longsuffering with joyfulness” (Colossians 1:11), and I’ve been reminded recently of our Lord’s words that “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:31-46) (not that I think of my mother-in-law or older people as “the least of these,” but rather I’m reminded that serving anyone else is service to Christ.) I Thessalonians 5:14 reminds me,”Now we exhort you, brethren, warn them that are unruly, comfort the feebleminded, support the weak, be patient toward all men.” And I remember sometimes, too, that some day, Lord willing, I’m going to be elderly, and “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise” (Luke 6:31).

In some ways I am hesitant to post this because I don’t want to sound as if dealing with the elderly is all a trial of patience, and I don’t want to sound gripey. It can be pleasant, even fun sometimes. I hope those who don’t deal with the elderly and who might think we shouldn’t have any negative feelings will withhold judgment: There are frustrations in any relationship that we need to learn how to deal with Biblically. I’ve made several friends in cyberspace who also care for elderly parents, and I don’t want anyone to think I am talking about them: I’m just sharing what the Lord’s been dealing with me about, and I hope it is a blessing to you, too. It’s been a help to me when I read of your dealings with your loved ones.

The following has also been a blessing to me:

Grandmother’s Beatitudes or Beatitudes for Friends of the Aged

Blessed are they who understand
My faltering step and palsied hand.
Blessed are they who know that my ears today
Must strain to hear the things they say.
Blessed are they who seem to know
That my eyes are dim and wits are slow.
Blessed are they who look away
When coffee spilled at the table today.
Blessed are they with a cheery smile
Who stop to chat for a little while.
Blessed are they who never say
“You’ve told that story twice today.”
Blessed are they who know the ways
To bring back memories of yesterday.
Blessed are they who make it known
That I’m loved, respected, and not alone.
Blessed are they who know I’m at a loss
To find the strength to carry the cross.
Blessed are they who ease the way
On my journey Home in loving ways.

~ Author unknown

It’s beginning to sink in…

When Jason and his fiancee first starting talking about marriage, they were planning to go to CA — aaaaallllll the way across the country from SC — to work in the camp where Jason has worked for 5 or 6 summers. But that camp closed down. So they decided to live nearby in the meantime, work on paying off school debts, and pray about where to go. I want them to be wherever the Lord wants them, of course, but I am delighted to have them nearby for a while. I attributed the fact that I hadn’t had any mushily sentimental moments to the fact that I wasn’t really  “losing” a son since he was only going to be ten minutes away. I also joked with some of you that my inheriting Jason’s room for a longed-for sewing/craft/guest room is softening the loss a bit.

Jason found a little house to rent and, since it has no current occupants, the landlord went ahead and gave him the keys. Jason wanted to go ahead and start packing up some of his things to take to the house so there wouldn’t be quite so much to do after the wedding. When I peeked in and saw all those boxes…that’s when it began to really sink in that he was actually moving out.

Jason’s been my rover — away almost every summer for years, on two international mission trips, and even though he lived at home during college, he was often gone from 7 a.m. til 10 or 11 p.m. So you’d think we’d be “used to” his being gone. I don’t know that we ever got completely used to it, but, even still, his room was always there waiting for him to come back. And the sight of all those boxes being packed up suddenly confronted me with the reality that he is actually moving away from home. Not far — but, still, it’s the end of an era.

When I commented on that fact and got all teary, my husband, Jim, teasing, said, “No, no — think sewing room! Sewing room!

And later I smiled to see that Jason had made this sign and put it on his door:

CIMG2927

The moment passed. Jason took us over to his new house and showed us around. His happiness and excitement are infectious. It’s just really cute to see (forgive me for putting it that way, Jason. 🙂 ) We are happy and excited for them and love our future daughter-in-law. But I am sure there will be a few more of those poignant, teary moments in the next few weeks.

Quotes of Hudson Taylor

All God’s giants have been weak men, who did great things for God because they reckoned on His being with them.

– Dr. & Mrs. Howard Taylor, Hudson Taylor and the China Inland Mission; The Growth of a Work of God, Chapter 19

After proving God’s faithfulness for many years, I can testify that times of want have ever been times of spiritual blessing, or have led to them.

– A.J. Broomhall. Hudson Taylor and China’s Open Century, Book Five: Refiner’s Fire. London: Hodder and Stoughton and Overseas Missionary Fellowship, 1985, 406.

Brighton, 25 June 1965: “All at once came the thought – If you are simply obeying the LORD, all the responsibility will rest on Him, not on you! What a relief!! Well, I cried to God – You shall be responsible for them, and for me too!”

– A.J. Broomhall. Hudson Taylor and China’s Open Century, Book Three: If I Had a Thousand Lives. London: Hodder and Stoughton and Overseas Missionary Fellowship, 1982, 454.)

If God places me in great perplexity, must He not give much guidance; in positions of great difficulty, much grace; in circumstances of great pressure and trial, much strength. As to work, mine was never so plentiful, so responsible, or so difficult, but the weight and strain are all gone. His resources are all mine, for He is mine.

— Hudson Taylor (inscribed in Dal Washer’s Bible)

Happy Birthday to Jason!

This is the first time in years Jason has been home on his actual birthday. And it’s his last one at home before getting married.

Hope you have a great day! Love you!

Baby Jason

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Jason sr.

DSC02677

Jason is the “middle child,” and I alwayd loved what Erma Bombeck said about the middle child (as well as the oldest and youngest) in this column, originally posted in 1971:

I’ve Always Loved You Best

It is normal for children to want assurance that they are loved. Having all the warmth of the former Berlin Wall, I have always admired women who can reach out to pat their children and not have them flinch.

Feeling more comfortable on paper, I wrote this for each of my children.

To the first born……

I’ve always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, the promise of our infinity.

You sustained us through the hamburger years. The first apartment furnished in Early Poverty… our first mode of transportation (1955 feet)… the 7-inch TV set we paid on for 36 months.

You wore new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll. You were the “original model” for unsure parents trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb, open pins and three-hour naps.

You were the beginning.

To the middle child…

I’ve always loved you the best because you drew the dumb spot in the family and it made you stronger for it.

You cried less, had more patience, wore faded and never in your life did anything “first” [actually you did have some of your own firsts], but it only made you more special. You are the one we relaxed with and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn’t get sick. You could cross the street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married, and the world wouldn’t come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.

You were the continuance.

To the baby…

I’ve always loved you the best because endings generally are sad and you are such a joy. You readily accepted milk stained bibs. The lower bunk. The cracked baseball bat. The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham pie crust that someone jammed between the pages.

You are the one we held onto so tightly. For, you see, you are the link with the past that gives a reason to tomorrow. You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision, and give us humor that security and maturity can’t give us.

When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your children tower over you, you will still be “the baby.”

You were the culmination.

~ Erma Bombeck

Whose atonement?

Often on my Friday Fave Five post I will list a link to something I’ve enjoyed reading on the Internet during the week. But the one I had in mind for this week was just so important and poignant I felt it needed its own post for emphasis.

Chris Anderson posted in Beautiful, Hopeless Legalism a clip from the film The Mission (which I have been wanting to see ever since discovering the song Gabriel’s Oboe from it) and pointed out the differences between the inadequate attempt to earn forgiveness and atone for oneself, as the film depicts, and accepting Christ’s atonement br grace through faith. It’s well worth the read.

Friday’s Fave Five

friday-fave-five-spring

Susanne at Living to Tell the Story hosts a “Friday Fave Five” in which we share our five favorite things from the past week. Click on the button to read more of the details, and you can visit Susanne to see the list of others’ favorites or to join in.

1. It hasn’t been quite so swelteringly hot this week (at least it didn’t feel as hot to me) and what rain we did get wasn’t a bad storm. But we did have to call the AC guy out to service our AC because it hadn’t been quite keeping up, and now it’s running beautifully. Thank God for AC and AC guys.

2. More details are coming together for Jason’s wedding next month: dates decided on to travel, flights scheduled for a couple of people, hotel booked for us and wedding party and my family coming in from TX.

3. A friend of a friend gave them a free dryer and they found a table and chairs on sale.

4. A new monitor for my PC. Mine had been getting harder and harder to get to come on and stay on, and finally last Saturday it just died completely. I’m thankful that if it had to happen it did so on a day when my husband was home and had time to deal with it, so I was only without access to my computer for most of Saturday. I’m thankful to Jim and Jeremy for buying and installing it for me!!

5. Last Saturday I got a ton of stuff done (and I am trying not to think about the fact that being without access to the computer had something to do with it…) It felt great to get so many things crossed off my to-do list and to start this week with a clean house.

Bonus #6. I almost can’t do one of these without a food reference. 🙂 For a long time I didn’t care for Sbarro’s pizza — I always thought it looked wonderful but didn’t taste all that great. Then they came up with a stuffed pizza — two layers of crust with sausage, pepperoni, and cheese in between and bacon on top. Wonderful. I had a slice today. Gave in and had a piece of their chocolate cake, too. And last Sunday Jim grilled some scrumptious pork chops — he just sprays them with Pam and sprinkles garlic seasoning salt on them.

You know, I really had to think about it this week. It hasn’t been a bad week in any way — it just seemed like a normal week in which nothing outstanding happened. But I know sometimes in crisis situations I’ve longed for just an ordinary day, and so I am thankful for an everyday ordinary week and all God’s everyday blessings.

His one and only

My husband asked me to make a deposit in our account and his mother’s on a day when he was out of town and couldn’t do so.

As the teller handled my mother-in-law’s deposit, she looked at the name and then called me Mrs. H-, which is, of course, also my mother-in-law’s name. I said, “Well, I am one of the Mrs. H–s.”

She stopped and looked up at me and said, “You mean he has two?”

I hadn’t realized how that would sound! I quickly explained that, no, I was the wife and the other Mrs. H– was the mother. She had just been reading a book on polygamy and its problems, so perhaps her mind jumped to that conclusion a little more easily than it might have otherwise.

We had a good laugh over it. She was still chuckling as I left.

Things I remember from childhood

I don’t know what triggered this trip down memory lane, but a few days ago I started jotting down snippets of childhood memories.  Then I found out via Cindy that Monday was Childhood Memories Day.

I was born in the late 50s. so I would have had most of my growing up years in the 60s.

— Record players for kids that came in a box that latched and had a handle. My aunt gave me a whole collection of 45 rpm records of children’s songs that I loved.

— Little Golden Books. And they are still around — I read them to my kids, too.

— Families bringing lawn chairs out into the front yard to talk with the neighbors while the children played together in each other’s yards in the evenings after dinner.

— My dad taking neighborhood kids for rides on his motor scooter up and down the street.

— Riding bicycles everywhere.

— Collecting glass bottles to get a refund for turning them in at the store. I don’t remember how much we got for them, though — does anyone?

— Nehi Cola in grape, orange, and strawberry. Fruit-flavored soft drinks don’t appeal to me now except just every once in a great while, but we loved them then.

— The bugs of summer: mosquitoes and calamine lotion, fireflies, noisy June bugs getting caught in the screen doors.

— Oscillating fans at bed time and nap time. I thought my aunt lived in the height of luxury because she had central air conditioning. I loved taking naps at her house.

— Having one of the first Barbie dolls with the black and white striped swim suit and pony tail on the crown of her head. I wish I still had her, but I passed her on to four younger sisters…

— Cars like this:

Classic car

— Traveling with my grandmother. Her kids were scattered in Texas, Louisiana, and Alabama, and she drove to visit each of them and took me with her a couple of times. We called her the “galloping Grandma.”

— Spending the night with my grandmother and both of us staying up late reading.

— My grandfather’s teasing and distinctive laugh.

— A collie named Sam.

— Putting a note in the offering at church because I didn’t have any money and my cousin’s grandmother taking it out. 😦 I don’t remember what the note said, though.

— We lived near Padre Island in southern Texas, and nearly every celebration, party, get-together involved the beach. I had forgotten how much I loved and missed the water til we went back for a family reunion years ago. I saw then, too, why every beach I had seen since then seemed inadequate: I guess because it was an island, there were sand dunes as far as the eye could see in one direction and water in the other direction. Little strips of beach along a highway that we had seen in other places didn’t seem like a beach at all.

— The Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights, The Ed Sullivan Show, the Andy Williams Show.

— Tether ball and four-square on the playground at school as well as my friends and I pretending we were a singing group singing “Downtown” at recess.

Commercials: Mr, Whipple, Brylcream, the Frito Bandito, “Mikey Likes It!”

— Going to eat at a drive-in restaurant every Friday night after getting groceries and eating steak fingers and the BEST milkshakes. I tried steak fingers at a restaurant as an adult, but they just didn’t live up to my memory.

— Going to see movies at the drive-inn theater in our pajamas.

Some of these might sound idyllic…there were unpleasant memories here and there, too, but why focus on those?

Anyone else remember any of these? What are some of your childhood memories?

“Not being fed”

Some years ago someone posted a thread on a Christian message board I was on at the time  “griping” about Christians who said they didn’t feel “fed” at their churches. I was astonished. I would think any pastor would be dismayed that anyone felt that way at his church. Then some months back someone speaking at my church (not our pastor) said that people leaving churches because they didn’t “feel fed” were probably just rebelliously on the outer fringes of the church anyway. Wherever I have seen the topic come up, there are negative vibes towards the hungry, unfed Christian rather than an examination of what’s being offered.

I suppose the first order of business, when someone makes a complaint about feeling unfed at a church, is to find out exactly what they mean. If it’s just a vague feeling of discontent or dissatisfaction, then that needs to be explored further. If it means they’re not feeling “entertained” or the messages aren’t “interesting,” then they need to be instructed as to the purpose of the message. If they’re falling asleep, talking, passing notes, staring out the window, then that behavior can be pointed out as the reason they’re not “getting anything” and advice can be given about getting enough sleep, perhaps taking notes to help keep one’s mind on the sermon. The complainer might even have some unconfessed sin in his life that is hindering his communication with the Lord. But in any of these and other scenarios, a gripy, irritated, fault-finding attitude toward the complainant is likely not going to help the situation.

When I have felt “unfed,” it hasn’t been for any of those reasons (though I’ve had my share of inattention or unplanned “naps” at church, I knew my unfed state then was my own fault.) When I don’t feel fed spiritually, it has been because the message didn’t contain much of the Word of God. I’ve felt unfed with messages that are primarily:

1. Ranting (about politics, the state of the world, the state of Christianity, etc. — not that those topics can’t be discussed biblically, but if it is just ranting, though it may get a lot of “Amens,” how is that helping anyone?)

2. Stories (Stories can be great illustrations of truth [Jesus even used them] or starting points, but if a message is primarily stories, to me, it’s not very meaty. I heard one pastor describe his own message as a “skyscraper sermon — story after story after story.”)

3. The speaker’s opinions rather than Biblical instruction (though, again, an opinion of a godly person based on Biblical principles can be of great value.)

4. Misuse or misapplication of the Bible. This can be done in myriad ways, but the one I’ve seen most often is having a point to make and attaching a Scripture to it rather than preaching from the passage and making applicable points.

5. The speaker’s thoughts about what the Bible says rather than what the Bible says. This is a little trickier — some commentary is inevitable and even good. One former pastor used to say that when he first started preaching, he would approach a passage with the question, “What can I say about this passage?” After a time, he realized that was the wrong question. The right question is, “What does this passage say?” When you really dig into the passage itself, the context, the meanings of the words, etc., and bring it out and make applications that are suggested by the passage that really fit the meaning and context rather than using a verse to address a pet peeve — that just makes all the difference in the world.

We do have to take into account that every pastor is only human, that not every message will be a “home run,” that there will be times the pastor needs to have just a “family chat” with a congregation, etc. But if I felt “unfed” the majority of the time at a church, I’d have to seriously consider leaving.

Here are some of the charges I have heard against the “unfed.”

1. You’re supposed to feed yourself.

True. Christians should be taught to get into the Word on a regular basis on their own. But does that mean they shouldn’t get “milk and meat” from their pulpits? I eat regularly at home, but when I go out to eat I want a satisfying meal there as well.

2. We come to church to worship God, not to be fed.

Comments along this line will often go on to gripe about “consumer mentality,” wanting to “get instead of give,” etc. Though we should be concerned with giving and not just getting, and though we should worship God, again, does that mean it is okay if the sermon is primarily fluff? Paul charged Pastor Timothy to “Preach the Word.” Jesus told Peter to feed His lambs and sheep, and Peter in turn instructed, “Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; not for filthy lucre, but of a ready mind” (I Peter 5:2). “And the servant of the Lord must not strive; but be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient,In meekness instructing those that oppose themselves; if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth” (II Timothy 2:24-25).

3. People who say things like that just like to complain.

Is a person who feels this way not supposed to say something about it? Granted, if he or she is just spreading this among others in the congregation, that is stirring up trouble rather than legitimately dealing with the situation. If the only person saying this is one who complains about every other little thing, it might carry a little less weight. But any criticism carries with it the responsibility to examine it and see if it is true before dismissing it. But it could be that a person making this statement privately to a pastor might be trying to rectify the situation. Would a pastor really rather have an unfed person quietly leave without saying anything?

4. People who say they aren’t being fed probably aren’t serving.

I don’t know why this connection is made. If the Bible is spiritual food and serving is spiritual exercise, doesn’t stand to reason that if one is better fed he can better exercise?

It is possible to be feeding oneself in the Word, actively serving, and worshiping as best one knows how, and still feel unfed. I know: I have experienced it. In one church my husband and I attended, we joined knowing that every “i” wasn’t dotted or “t” crossed exactly like we would have done, yet we agreed with the core doctrines and felt we could minister and be ministered to there. We enjoyed the pastor and preaching. Yet after a while things seemed to change,though we couldn’t quite put our finger on it or articulate it. Going through a stack of old papers one day, I came across some sermon notes from our first months there. I was astonished at how “meaty,” how Word-filled those early sermon notes were, and I was so sad that there had been a subtle shift away from such preaching. We didn’t go to the pastor and tell him we didn’t “feel fed” — we didn’t know exactly how to, didn’t know if we should, and just felt awkward doing so and didn’t know how it would be received. It was getting to the point that we felt we should consider leaving, but we really didn’t want to hurt the pastor or the people or create an awkward situation by doing so. As it turned out we had to move away due to my husband’s job. But sadder to me than the shift in preaching in itself was the fact that, as far as I know, the pastor felt he was preaching the Word and was evidently unaware of the shift himself.

It’s not my place to instruct or correct pastors. I just wanted to convey that there are legitimate reasons a church member may feel unfed. I know there are some folks in the church who never seem to be satisfied with anything. But there are serious Christians who just want to hear the Word of God.

Sir, we would see Jesus.

An altar waiting

IF we with earnest effort could succeed
To make our life one long connected prayer,
As lives of some perhaps have been and are,
If never leaving Thee, we had no need
Our wandering spirits back again to lead
Into thy presence, but continued there,
Like angels standing on the highest stair
Of the sapphire throne, this were to pray indeed.

But if distractions manifold prevail,
And if in this we must confess we fail,
Grant us to keep at least a prompt desire,
Continual readiness for prayer and praise,
An altar heaped and waiting to take fire
With the least spark, and leap into a blaze.

~ Richard Chenevix Trench