Join the Conversation

“God spoke today in flowers,
and I, who was waiting on words,
almost missed the conversation.”
~ Ingrid Goff-Maidoff ~

I spend a lot of time waiting on words.
Hours have been spent staring at a blank screen—
hoping letters will drift down and come together in words,
praying the words will join up into concise sentences,
trusting the sentences will band together into sensible paragraphs.

If I stay close enough to the Author of Life,
I figure I stand a chance at catching a few meaningful words.

On my “About Dinah” page I wrote: “Writing has always been my pathway to finding the truth in both my heart and God’s heart. Words swirl in and out of my life in many ways. I like to read them, write them, sing them and put them into crossword puzzles.”

That’s as true now as it was in 2010. (16 years ago?!) 

But lately, I’ve been awakened to another way of capturing truth, beauty and goodness. It seems the Author is also a Gardener.

Charles Spurgeon said that the created world is God’s “outward temple” and that nature is “the second Bible.”

David wrote psalms about stars and skies, the sun and moon, oceans and trees.

Jesus taught that there is much to learn when we are attentive to nature. He suggested that a meditative look at a wild flower could help us become less anxious. (Matthew 6:28-29)

“All nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.” *

Here I’ve been, waiting on words,
and in the meantime,
I’ve been missing out on the language of
lilies, oak trees and the Milky Way.

May this be the summer of listening for the music
and joining the conversation.

* “This Is My Father’s World,” Maltbie D. Babcock, 1901

Greatly Grateful

“If you think little of what God has done for you,
you will do very little for Him;
but if you have a great notion
of His great mercy to you,
you will be greatly grateful to your gracious God.”
~Charles Spurgeon~

I am greatly grateful to you for reading a small drop of ink.
“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 1:3

Gotta go make gravy now.

Kansas City, Here I Come

When PB asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I was ready with an answer.

“I want to go to Kansas City and visit the Charles Spurgeon Library on the campus of Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.”

Not your typical birthday request, I know. Even PB raised his eyebrows at that one, but he’s always game for a road-trip-adventure. And I promised him some KC barbeque.

As we crossed the state line into Missouri, we played “Kansas City, Here I Come” by Wilbert Harrison, recorded in 1959, which seemed appropriate since it was my birthday trip and that’s my birth year.

See? I wasn’t making it up. Not every old dead guy gets his own library.

Spurgeon had a 12,000-volume personal library. After he died, half of his books were sold and ended up in America. They sat in boxes for 100 years in a basement. Then Midwestern Baptist rescued them and someone donated several million dollars to build a library to house and display them. Everything you ever wanted to know about Charles Spurgeon is there. We spent three hours soaking up every bit of it.

PB was a trooper.
Down deep, I think he loved seeing everything as much as I did.

This is the pew Charles was sitting on when he came to saving faith in Jesus.
He was 15 years old.
He started preaching at 17 and had his first church when he was 19.

Spurgeon’s desk—we were allowed to touch it.

So Many Books. The man read six books every week.
That’s 312 books per year.
But then, Spurg didn’t have TV or Internet or Automobiles.

The paintings all over the library were really beautiful.
Every little enclosed case had a story.

There were three cigars in his coat pocket when he died.
To the glory of God.

A good time was had by all.

My admiration for CHS grew exponentially.
I sure hope he teaches and preaches in the New Earth.
I’ll be in the front row, grinning from ear to ear.

We celebrated at Joe’s Kansas City Bar-B-Que with brisket and burnt ends.

Thanks, honey, for making my birthday dreams come true.
You’ll always be my #1 preacher.

Spurgeon

Charles Spurgeon is my favorite old dead guy.
I call him my 19th century boyfriend.
PB doesn’t mind because Spurg has been dead for 133 years.

A few years ago, friends gave me a portrait of Charles that hangs in my home office. He watches over me as I sit in my chair every morning–reading, praying, thinking, writing.

The man inspires me.

He wrote 500 personal letters every week.
He preached four to ten sermons each week.
He wrote 135 books and published 63 volumes of sermons.
He read six books per week, reading no less than 500 pages every day.
He gave a two-hour lecture at the Pastor’s College every Friday.

All without a computer. No cutting and pasting, no typing even.
Every word he wrote was put to paper with a pen
that had to be dipped into an ink bottle.

His Sunday morning schedule was as follows:
Wake early and ride carriage to church.
Smoke one cigar to the glory of God.
Lead worship service, preaching no more than 45 minutes.
Greet people in the church vestry all afternoon.
Begin sermon prep for the evening service.
Preach Sunday evening sermon.
Ride carriage home and go to bed.

Charles Spurgeon, a.k.a. The Prince of Preachers,
preached 3,561 sermons over 40 years,
making him my second favorite preacher of all time.

My #1 pastor never smoked cigars.
Not even to the glory of God.