I was twelve years old when I heard the song for the first song.The song affected me so much I almost swooned. It makes me smile to remember my strong emotional reactions because the song was Yesterday by the Beatles. And to be honest at twelve years of age I really didn't have that many yesterdays to count.
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, I believed in yesterday
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me.
Oh, yesterday came suddenly
...
I said somethings wrong now I long for yesterday
....
Now I need a place to place to hide away
Oh, I believe in yesterday
This is has been a year of change and in many ways a year of loss. It's been the kind of year that makes me look back and remember my yesterdays with a sense of longing. But recently an obscure Bible verse kept coming to mind. It was a instruction on how to deal with the feelings that I was having, "Don't say, 'Why were the former days better than these?' For it is not wise of you to ask" (Ecclesiastes 7:10).
The night after I looked the verse up to find out where it was I had trouble sleeping. I thought about the wisdom of not asking why the former days were better than the days we are living in, and I decided to turn my attention to the name that God gave Moses to call Him, I AM.
As I focused on what it meant to worship I AM, I could feel the knots in my soul begin to untie. I remembered that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I began to rest in the truth that His steadfast love never failed and His mercy was new every morning. When I anchored my mind, my soul and my spirit in the great I AM, I was ushered before the throne of the Eternal God. With eternity in mind, the thoughts of yesterday found their correct perspective.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Life's True Purpose
The sky was painted with the colors of the sunset and the evening breeze began to gently blow as Papa and I sat in companionable silence. His wife of sixty four years had died earlier that week. His voice was tender and full of emotion when he finally spoke. We talked that night about the meaning of life.
Papa was ninety one years old, yet, when he was a young child, even before he was able to read, his mother taught him the first catechism question and he never forgot it. So that night I gently asked him, "Papa, what is the chief end of man?" Without hesitation he responded, "The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."
In some ways the answer seemed simple, but the weight of its meaning had brought stability to all he had encountered in his ninety one years. Papa had seen God's glory as he gazed into the heavens seeking a sign that a drought would be broken by the coming of rain. As a farmer he had entered into the joy of creation when watching the birth of a calf. He understood too that, though he could put the seed into the ground, only God could make it grow.
That night we sat together watching the sunset and talking about the meaning of life. Papa put his gnarled hand down to gently stroke the head of his faithful dog. We spoke of heaven and, although there was deep sorrow, there was also joy. This was a man who had walked humbly and quietly with his Savior, glorifying and enjoying Him in both the big and the small things of life.
It was silent for a few minutes and then I turned to Papa and said. "You know, if God calls you home you can go." He seemed startled for a moment and said, "Sarah, do you know what you are saying?" I spoke with quiet conviction. "Papa, when you were a little boy your mother taught you that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. I think you've done that." All of his life he had sought to glorify God. The next morning he was welcomed into the joy of His presence.
Where Papa and I sat that last night of his life there is a marble bench given in honor of Papa and Ma Belle. Sometimes at twilight I sit there and pray that my children will remember the lesson their grandfather learned from his mother--that the true purpose of life is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.
Papa was ninety one years old, yet, when he was a young child, even before he was able to read, his mother taught him the first catechism question and he never forgot it. So that night I gently asked him, "Papa, what is the chief end of man?" Without hesitation he responded, "The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."
In some ways the answer seemed simple, but the weight of its meaning had brought stability to all he had encountered in his ninety one years. Papa had seen God's glory as he gazed into the heavens seeking a sign that a drought would be broken by the coming of rain. As a farmer he had entered into the joy of creation when watching the birth of a calf. He understood too that, though he could put the seed into the ground, only God could make it grow.
That night we sat together watching the sunset and talking about the meaning of life. Papa put his gnarled hand down to gently stroke the head of his faithful dog. We spoke of heaven and, although there was deep sorrow, there was also joy. This was a man who had walked humbly and quietly with his Savior, glorifying and enjoying Him in both the big and the small things of life.
It was silent for a few minutes and then I turned to Papa and said. "You know, if God calls you home you can go." He seemed startled for a moment and said, "Sarah, do you know what you are saying?" I spoke with quiet conviction. "Papa, when you were a little boy your mother taught you that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. I think you've done that." All of his life he had sought to glorify God. The next morning he was welcomed into the joy of His presence.
Where Papa and I sat that last night of his life there is a marble bench given in honor of Papa and Ma Belle. Sometimes at twilight I sit there and pray that my children will remember the lesson their grandfather learned from his mother--that the true purpose of life is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.
Monday, June 20, 2016
From Lament to Praise
On my way to church yesterday the memory came. It was so strong that I could almost hear again the desperate cry of my daughter's voice,"Mommy, come quickly!" On Father's Day a year ago I took my daughter to the hospital. On that day Abigail gave birth to Cherie, and on that day Cherie died.
At church the congregation was given the opportunity to offer praise. Abigail stood and said, "It was on Father's Day last year that I went to the hospital to deliver Cherie. Today my little girl sleeps beneath the ground in her woodland nursery. But God has blessed me with a wonderful man who is the father of the son we are adopting and of our baby Hardeman." As I listened to my daughter I was reminded of the words of Lamentations.
"Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him" (Lamentations 3:19-24).
There are memories that cause the soul to bow in grief, and there are memories that anchor it as well. To remember God's steadfast love is to remember His covenant of love. The steadfast, unfailing love of God is His response to the deepest cries of our heart. His tender mercy never comes to an end but are fresh and new like the daily manna given by God in the wilderness.
To say that, "The LORD is my portion and I will hope in him," is to choose to daily open your heart and receive the gift of compassion and mercy in much the same way as the children of Israel gathered their daily portion of manna. I have watched this year as Abigail and her husband Dave have placed their hope in the steadfast love of the LORD. Their faith has transformed a time of lament into an opportunity for praise.
At church the congregation was given the opportunity to offer praise. Abigail stood and said, "It was on Father's Day last year that I went to the hospital to deliver Cherie. Today my little girl sleeps beneath the ground in her woodland nursery. But God has blessed me with a wonderful man who is the father of the son we are adopting and of our baby Hardeman." As I listened to my daughter I was reminded of the words of Lamentations.
"Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him" (Lamentations 3:19-24).
There are memories that cause the soul to bow in grief, and there are memories that anchor it as well. To remember God's steadfast love is to remember His covenant of love. The steadfast, unfailing love of God is His response to the deepest cries of our heart. His tender mercy never comes to an end but are fresh and new like the daily manna given by God in the wilderness.
To say that, "The LORD is my portion and I will hope in him," is to choose to daily open your heart and receive the gift of compassion and mercy in much the same way as the children of Israel gathered their daily portion of manna. I have watched this year as Abigail and her husband Dave have placed their hope in the steadfast love of the LORD. Their faith has transformed a time of lament into an opportunity for praise.
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