Open for Business

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One thing I’ve noticed the last few weeks: PB has become a much better preacher since I have started taking notes in church.  Or maybe taking notes during the sermon has made me a much better listener so I’m more aware of PB’s good messages.  It’s funny what happens when you enter worship actually expecting to hear a word from God.

For so many years, my attention was centered on keeping four children quiet in the pew.  I doled out Cheerios, played hangman, and drew pictures on the bulletin.  Later, my focus was on sending raised eyebrows to my whispering teenagers who were sitting with their friends.  These days, I find myself sitting alone in the pew.  Antsy children and chatty teenagers don’t bother me at all anymore.  Probably because they aren’t my antsy children and my chatty teenagers.

Anyway, this week this is what stuck with me.  After our Lord’s death and resurrection, 1 Peter 3:19 says that Jesus preached.  PB said that the word for “preached” means “announced”.  In other words, Jesus was announcing that the victory over death was won and the door to heaven was now open.  Heaven: Open for Business!

So, how is business?  Am I getting the word out about this grand opening?  And what about the church?  Is the church open for business?  Or open for busy-ness?  Or does it prefer business-as-usual?

And what about my heart?  Is it open for business?  Is God telling me He needs to get into my business about some things?  Do I dare to tell Him it’s none of His business?   How can I go about my business like nothing has happened when telling people about Jesus is serious business?

There’s no business like show business…..ah….nope, that one doesn’t work.  I’ll stop now.

Boppy

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I called my grandma “Boppy”.  Actually, my oldest brother, who was the first grandchild, started it when he was a little guy learning to talk.  Evidently when he tried to say “grandma”, it came out more like “Boppy” and the name stuck.  All nine grandchildren called her “Boppy”.  I had forgotten that until this morning when I read my daughter’s post.  Katie has dusted off her old blog and is breathing new life into it, much to my delight.  (It Is Happy to Love – it’s in my blogroll.) 

Anyway, she wrote about a pillow she has, called a boppy.  I read that word and suddenly I was transported to 1965 and the house just down the driveway.  My grandparent’s house always smelled like pickles and spices and apfelkuchen (apple cake).  There was a glass candy dish filled with candy corn and I could take as many pieces of candy as I was years old.  Boppy watched “As the World Turns” and gave me art lessons.  We looked through the pile of “Pack-O-Fun” magazines and picked out projects, although I don’t remember doing any of them.  She let me rummage through her jewelry box and we walked outside to see the flowers in the garden.  Whenever I was bored, or trying to get out of practicing the piano, I could skip down the back driveway and while away an afternoon at Boppy’s.  She was never too busy for me and always made me feel like I was the best part of her day.

I wonder what Little Mister will call me.  I suppose “grandma” will be ok.  But I wouldn’t mind something original and quirky; a name that only one little boy in the whole world will have the right to call me.  I guess I’ll let him decide.  In the meantime, I’d better stock up on candy corn.

Baby Countdown

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My baby is going to have a baby.

Her due date is three weeks away.

I’m going to be a grandma.

Having trouble finding words.

Is this normal?

Can’t stop thinking about my daughter.

Am I ok?

Can’t stop thinking about her birth.

Am I going crazy?

It’s a lot of work, becoming a grandma.

 Gonna need some help.  Hold my hand and let’s count it down!

 

 

Who’s Asking?

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One of my goals for 2012 is to jot down a thought or two during worship each Sunday morning and carry it around with me during the week.  PB is faithful to preach God ‘s word every Sunday; I should be faithful to let it find some fertile ground in which to germinate.

This week the message was on 1 Peter 3:15.  “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”

Which made me ponder: Who’s asking?  When was the last time someone questioned me about the hope I have?  Which made me wonder:  Is my hope all that evident?  Does anyone even  know I have hope?  Or do I just blend in with the dreary, hopeless world?

Instead of people saying, “Why are you so happy?” more often I’m asked, “What’s wrong?  Something bothering you?”

Instead of people asking me, “How are you getting through this so well?” I’m more likely to be told, “I’m sorry you have been struggling so much with this.”

Instead of comments like, “Your faith is so obvious, it inspires me,” I’m more apt to hear, “Read this book, it might inspire you.”

I might be prepared to give an answer, but if no one is asking…..then maybe I should ask myself a few questions.

Embraceable You

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When George and Ira Gershwin wrote the the song “Embraceable You” in 1928, they probably had no idea they were touching on a deep theological truth.  “Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you…”  Stay with me here;  this is going somewhere.

PB preached the first sermon of 2012 last Sunday and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.  (That’s the sign of a good sermon, you know: parishioners, or at least the pastor’s wife, wanting to discuss Sunday’s sermon on the following Wednesday.)  The message “To Hug and To Hold” was about Mary and Joseph bringing their 8-day-old son to the temple for dedication.  They were met by an old man named Simeon, probably the priest who was going to bless the child.  But Simeon didn’t just place his hand on the baby’s head and pronounce the usual blessing.  Not this time.  The wrinkled hands reached out and Simeon took the babe in his feeble arms.  The old priest knew this was what he had been waiting for his whole life.  He embraced the Son of God.

Imagine.  Hugging.  God.

I’m not opposed to hugging, although I know some people are uncomfortable with it.  There are some huggers who go for the side-by-side-pat-each-other-on-the-back method.  It’s kind of a half-hug.  There are the A-frame huggers, who don’t mind a quick cheek-to-cheek clasp, so long as the rest of the body stays a good distance away.  Then there are the Aunt Irene hugs.  When I met PB’s Aunt Irene, I was warned about her death-defying squeezes.  It was true: she had a vice grip that took the breath right out of me.

Until Jesus came, God just didn’t seem very huggable.  There was a lot of thunder and fire and mystery associated with Jehovah.  He might have been perceived as a little unapproachable.  But Jesus came and changed all that.  God became embraceable.

Thirty-three years later, He stretched out His arms wide and embraced us.

All the things I once thought were so important…. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him.  Philippians 3:7     The Message

I Hereby Resolve

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New Year’s resolutions are dangerous; they make a fool of you by February.  That’s why I don’t make them. 

I do, however, set out a list of goals for the year.  Not that I expect to actually accomplish them all, but it’s good to have something to shoot for.  I believe in Vince Lombardi’s philosophy:  “We are going to relentlessly pursue perfection.  We are not going to reach it, because nobody is perfect.  But we are going to pursue it relentlessly because on the way, we will catch excellence.”  One year, my goal was to read one book every week.  I didn’t make it, but I read far more that year than I would have without the challenge.  So, once again I will aim high with some ambitious goals and hope to catch some excellence along the way.

Although resolutions don’t work for me, I like the word “resolve”.  Here’s what it means: have determination, make up one’s mind, put one’s foot down, take a stand, stand firm, put one’s heart into, take the bull by the horns, go all out, stick to one’s guns, stick it out, never say die, have gumption.  *Sigh*  I do love my thesaurus. 

2012.  What will you bring?  What lessons are in store?  Come what may, I’m determined to put my heart into living it.

Haste, Haste to Bring Him Laud

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Haste, haste to bring Him laud, the Babe, the Son of Mary.

Yes, I did. 

I went to Wal-Mart yesterday and I’ll probably go again today.  I never lived in a town with a Wal-Mart until we moved here seven years ago.  Going to the big store used to be a once- or twice-a-month family expedition.  The list on the refrigerator would get longer and longer.  Then we’d hitch up the horses, take the wagon into town and buy all the kids a penny stick of candy.  Whoa – slipping into “Little House on the Prairie” mode.  I do that at Christmastime.

Anyway, when we first moved to the big city, we went to Wal-Mart every day for the first two weeks.  The novelty has worn off; I only go two or three times a week now.  But there’s nothing like going to the super-store the day before Christmas.  So many people…so much hustle and bustle…so much plastic (toys and credit cards alike).  It’s hard not to get caught up in the hurry and scurry.

When William Dix wrote the words to “What Child Is This?” in 1865, he hit on something profound.  Where should we be hurrying off to?  To the mall?  Ah,no.  To paraphrase, “Hurry, hurry, to bring Him praise!  Hustle to worship and applaud His glory!  Get on over to church tonight and see if you can’t think of some way to lift Him up!  Hurry!”

On that first Christmas, some people might have been asking, “What child is this, that angels would greet him with sweet songs?”

We know the answer: “This, this, is Christ the Lord!”  So come, faithful people, to worship the Messiah.  Get a move on!

We Three Kings

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We three Kings of Orient are bearing gifts, we traverse afar;

Field and fountain, moor and mountain following yonder star.

 

In this year’s Sunday school Christmas program, the preschool wise-people brought gifts to baby Jesus.  One came with a stack of presents that were quickly dropped on the X taped on the floor.  Then the mini-Magi hurried back to her place on the risers.  The second king brought a burlap bag of feed for the animals in the barn, but plopped it in Joseph’s lap obstructing his face for the rest of the scene.  The third wise-person presented a birthday cake – a two-layer shiny plastic confection with one candle that kept tipping over. 

It made me wonder: what would be an appropriate gift for such an occasion?  Money is always good (gold); expensive perfume is thoughtful (frankincense); oil for embalming (myrrh), well, that’s a little creepy.

In our preschool version of the Christmas story, the three wise-people walked all around the stage, following the girl holding a big star on a long stick.  They went around in circles and up and down hills until the star finally stopped over the manger. 

It made me wonder: how far am I willing to traverse to worship the Savior?  Would I ride a camel across the desert on a hunch that a star was pointing the way to royalty?  Would I get a passport and leave my country to worship a baby? 

In the big kids performance, King Herod told the Wisemen to let him know when they found the baby because he had a present for the new king.  Then the boy playing mean King Herod pulled out a sword, pretended to cut his thumb on the sharp edge, winced and put his thumb in his mouth.  It was comical moment.

But it made me wonder: why didn’t anybody in Israel get what was going on?  When Herod asked the religious leaders what the ancient scrolls said about a king, they knew exactly where to look.  Micah the prophet made it clear: “Out of you, Bethlehem…will come one who will be ruler over Israel.” (Micah 5:2)  So they knew the answer, but never went to see for themselves.  A bright light was shining over Bethlehem, but they didn’t seem to notice.  Angels filled the sky, but they missed it.  God became flesh, but they didn’t recognize Him. 

The costumes are put away for another year; the gold, frankincense and myrrh are back in the storage boxes.  The manger is up on the shelf; the star is in the back of the closet.  Oh, but kids sure can preach some good sermons.  I hope everyone was paying attention.

Star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright;

Westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect Light. 

 

 

 

 

While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks

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While shepherds watched their flocks by night all seated on the ground,

The angel of the Lord came down and glory shone around.

 I love the shepherds.  They were just normal guys carrying out their normal routine on a normal night.  I’m not sure what the angel or the glory looked like, but it scared the heck out of the sheep-herders.  The angel’s words might have been a bit unsettling as well: “Unto you is born this day…”  Unto who?  

Shepherd #1:  Hey Fred, is your wife expecting a baby? 

Shepherd #2:  Don’t look at me, I don’t even have a girlfriend. 

Shepherd #3:  But the angel said a baby has been born to one of us shepherds…  

(That’s not in the Bible; I just like to make up imaginary conversations.)

The shepherds hurried off with specific instructions.  Of all the babies born in Bethlehem that night, they were to look for the only one lying in a manger.  That would certainly narrow it down.

Because of their possible contact with dead animals, shepherds were often considered unclean and not usually able to enter into the temple.  But they were able to enter a barnyard, kneel down in the straw and look into the newborn face of God’s Son.  They couldn’t approach God, so He came to them with the first invitation to come and see. 

Because of their low social standing and lack of religious training, shepherds could never hope to witness something as holy as the radiant glory of God.  But as they sat on a hillside outside of town, they saw something even Moses didn’t get to see on the holy mountain, even though he asked. (“Show me your glory.”  Exodus 33:18) 

Shepherds watched over little lambs, most likely creatures that would one day be sold for temple sacrifice.  How fitting that they were the first to behold the Lamb of God, who would one day be the Great Shepherd.

I just love the way God works.