Tag Archives: Christianity

The Bible on Anger

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Here’s a poem I wrote in 1979 after throwing a hissy-fit, and shouting in anger at someone that I can’t even remember now. I do remember saying things I wished I hadn’t. The words hurled themselves at my targeted victim, like darts at a dart board, and I was immediately filled with regret. Since then I have worked very hard at harnassing my anger, but every once in a while, something triggers it, and off I go on a short-lived tangent. Here then is Anger:

When anger

rears its ugly head,

the spoken word

is best unsaid.

The heat of anger

spawns words of ice,

sears heart and soul

and quickly dies

to a smoldering ash

of regret.

©1979

Somehow it makes me feel better to know that even Jesus got angry on several occasions. Mark 3:5 tells us, “He looked around at them in anger, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts.”

In Matthew 21:12 he overturned tables and chairs in his anger at the people using the temple as a marketplace.

In Exodus 32, God tells Moses how angry he is that the people carved out a golden calf to worship, and calls them a stiff-necked people. And then Moses gets really angry with the people and smashes the tablets God had written upon up on the mountain. There was a lot of anger going on in the Old Testament and that’s not even touching on Noah and the flood in Genesis.

And yet James, in the New Testament, cautions that everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.  (James 1:19) Oh, how I need to heed that advice sometimes!

Paul tells the Ephesians, “Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry,… (Ephesians 4:26)

This makes good sense because to go to bed angry would not promote a good night sleep.

Ah, is it any wonder that the Bible is one of my favorite books? It is filled with such history, wisdom, poetry and yes, even a hint of anger to ease my conscience when I succumb to that dreaded emotion on occasion.

 

 

Not to Worry

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There’s a chapter in my forthcoming book, My Precious Life, on worrying and how not to do it. In 2011, I gave a talk on this topic, to the Women’s Group at my church. Today, while pondering what to write for my next blog, I came across another bit about the worry habit, which didn’t make it into my book or the church talk. (I don’t know how I missed it!)

MORE FOR “NOT TO WORRY”

Here’s a Mother Goose rhyme found in Dale Carnegie’s

How to Stop Worrying and Start Living:

For every ailment under the sun

There is a remedy or there is none

If there be one, try to find it

If there be none, never mind it.

From Dr. Seuss:

I have heard there are troubles

Of more than one kind,

Some come from ahead

And some come from behind

But I’ve bought a big bat,

I’m all ready, you see

Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me.

From The purpose Driven Life pg. 90: (Rick Warren)

When you think about a problem over and over in your mind, that’s called worry. When you think about God’s Word over and over in your mind, that’s meditation. If you know how to worry you already know how to meditate! You just need to switch your attention from your problems to Bible verses. The more you meditate on God’s Word, the less you will have to worry about.

A worried Christian is a contradiction in terms. (In the Hands of God – Wm. Barclay)

Worrying is truly one of our favorite pastimes It takes very little for us to start worrying about things we have never worried about before. (Jeanette & Roy Henderson)

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will….Epictetus (Taught in 19th century Rome)

A NOTE:   When I gave the talk  in 2011, I mentioned how the hymn, “What a Friend We Have In Jesus” came to me at a stressful time. In May of that year, I read How to Stop Worrying and Start Living by Dale Carnegie (as noted above). Chapter nineteen told of a woman about to commit suicide, and take her five children with her, when the words of that hymn came to her also, and saved her life.

Like me, she made God a promise (to never again prove ungrateful).

I promised Him I’d never doubt again. Do you think I kept that promise?

Not to worry!

 

 

 

 

 

A Heavenly Message

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It was June 29, 2007, when Jerry, my second partner in life for twenty-seven years, traded life on this planet for life in Heaven. Maxine, his part-time caregiver, called me on July 2nd to tell me that she had a dream about me the night before. She said that I told her to read the Bible, and vaguely recalled Psalm 2 and Hebrews 5. Intrigued, I opened my Bible to Psalm 2, but it didn’t speak to me. I then turned to Hebrews 5, and read in verse five, “You are my Son; today I have become your Father.” That sounded familiar, so I went back and read Psalm 2 again. Sure enough, in verse seven, I read, “You are my Son; today I have become your Father.” The next thing I knew, I was writing the following poem.

TODAY I AM YOUR FATHER

Your life on earth has ended,

Your new life has begun,

Today I am your Father,

Today you are my son.

Your gentle heart stopped beating,

You breathed your final breath,

And because I am your Father,

You’ve won victory over death.

Well done, my faithful servant,

You struggled, not in vain,

For now you’re safely home with me,

Your new life free from pain.

I whispered, “Gerald, come to me.”

You answered, “Lord, I come.”

Today I am your Father

Welcome Home, my son.

©2007

I love it when my dreams speak to me, but when someone else’s dreams speak to me, I’m left incredulous.

 

 

 

 

Love in the Afternoon

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It was four o’clock in the afternoon on Saturday, May 31, 2014. The venue was Mill Run Golf Course in Uxbridge, Ontario.

The near-by pond was perfectly still in the soft, spring breeze, and the air was full of birdsong and love.

My beautiful granddaughter, Laura, was marrying her high-school sweetheart, Cameron.

As the groom waited expectantly on the lush grass, the bridal party advanced along a carpeted path towards him: six beautiful young ladies dressed in knee-length, burgundy dresses, tan, calf-high, cowboy boots, and each carrying a white baby’s-breath bouquet. The groom’s men were elegant in their blue-grey suits, dark grey ties, and matching pocket squares.

Six-year-old Taylor, the sweetest flower girl ever, followed with a small wagon in which Jack, the four-month old ring-bearer, was ensconced, dressed in a tiny grey suit and little cap to shade his head. Taylor looked like an angel, and not only pulled baby Jack in the wagon, but scattered rose petals along the way. This little beauty is one of my great-granddaughters, so I was especially touched.

And then came the moment Cam was waiting for. His lovely bride, in a stunning, strapless, gown of white, layered satin and lace, walked slowly towards her husband-to-be on the arm of her extremely proud father.

I will interject here, that it was to be a strictly secular affair, but when the official began to speak, it became clear that God was at this wedding, and I could not contain my happy tears.

Being surrounded with all that beauty and love was enough in itself to make my heart burst with joy, but when God showed up so unexpectedly that Saturday afternoon, my joy was complete.

I can’t close without telling you that when I later told Laura how thrilled I was with the ceremony, she confided that the minister, knowing they were a secular couple, asked if they wanted to leave anything out and Cam said, “No, we’ll leave it in for Nana”. I’m almost moved to tears writing this, because secular or not, God’s love, true and unconditional, was evident that lovely Saturday afternoon.

For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them. (Matthew 18:20)

Unholy Swearing

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This blog is going to be difficult to write because of the nature of the beast, but I’ll do my best to be delicate (not one of my better  known traits!)

All swearing is unholy, but some more so than others. Now, before anyone jumps on me as a holier-than-thou, goodie-two-shoes, let me make it clear that I was, at one time, as guilty of this negative habit as anyone. My youngest daughter, Lynn, came through the door one day and heard me swearing my head off at something or other, and said, “Mom! You have a mouth like a truck driver!” (Sorry, truckers, please don’t take it personally.)

It stopped me mid-curse. She’s right, I thought, I have to stop swearing like this. So I set up a “swear jar”, dropping a quarter into it every time I cussed, and it soon became too expensive to swear.

One day when I was upset over something one of my five had done, I stood stock-still, muttering, “Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges,” etc. Dann, my eldest son, said to no one in particular, “What’s she talking about?” Lynn piped up, “Oh, that’s Mom’s Christian swearing”.

Now, it bothers me no end to hear swearing, especially when it involves God and Jesus.

On Monday, a young man left nothing to the imagination when he asked me what offended me the most about swearing, and bluntly brought God and Jesus into the question along with that particular word that is known as “the –bomb”.

Without hesitation, I answered, “The bomb word is far less offensive to me than the first two you used. It makes me want to cry when I hear God and Jesus referred to in that way.”

“Really? What if people don’t know what it means to say those words?”

I told him that not knowing is one thing, but once made aware of how insulting it is to the Father and Son, to continue in that manner goes beyond blasphemy.

He then asked me if I have ever said anything to people who use that kind of language. (I actually did once, but forgot to tell him that). I told him I silently pray for them, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do” which was what Jesus said on the cross. (Luke 23:34)

“Really? That’s interesting.” The young man walked away with a puzzled, yet thoughtful look on his face

If a person feels the need to swear, there are an amazing amount of words to choose from without defaming the deities.

For me, taking God and Jesus out of the swearing equasion is right up there with world peace and a cure for cancer.

As so aptly stated in the The Ten Commandments, number seven to be exact, “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God…” (Exodus 20:7) NIV

I pray that no one will find this blog offensive. I tried my best to be delicate but as I said in the beginning, it is not one of my better known traits.

He Says – She Says

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When a friend confided in me that she was at the end of her rope with her husband’s negativity, it prompted me to write the following:

He could have enjoyed their journey.
It would have been easy.
But he had closed the door on his mind.
She tried to pry it open just a little, to get a positive thought into his negative world.

He believes in God but doesn’t know that God believes in him.
It’s such a good thing to know.

She loves to sing and implores him to join her in song.
He says, “I can’t sing.”

She loves to watch the setting sun.
He says it will ruin her eyes.

She loves to engage in lively or quiet conversation.
He says she talks too much.

She tries to get him to think happy thoughts.
“Just try it,” she says, “open your mind and let some sun thoughts in.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” he says.
But would he?

“Let’s go for a nice long walk,” she says.
“A short one will do,” he says.

Strolling down a tree-lined street she spots wispy, white clouds drifting across a deep blue sky.
He sees the trash cans a neighbour forgot to put away.

She hears birdsong coming from the treetops.
He hears the roar of a mower scalping another neighbor’s lawn.

She smells the fragrance of the fresh mown grass.
He holds his nose. “Damn fumes.”

She says, “Let’s go for ice cream cones.”
He says, “Let’s go home before it rains.”

Together they could have enjoyed life’s journey.
It would have been easy.
He chose to stay in his closed mind.
She chose to walk alone.

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. (Proverbs 22:17)

Junk Mail?

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A couple of years ago, I received a venomous letter in the mail.

It was from a person who had been bitter towards me for many, many years.  I hadn’t seen or heard from her for over three years, so I was really taken aback to read this disturbing letter.

She started out by saying, “After several years”, and then launched into her tirade.

The anger and resentment leapt off the pages and kicked me in the gut.

My first reaction was pity for her. I would not want to be living in her body with all that poison.

My second reaction was very un-Christian. I wanted to send her a “Get Well” card and tell her she had better find a good veterinarian because she was one sick puppy.

And then I prayed for her. And then I prayed for myself, that the poison in her soul wouldn’t touch my soul through her nasty thoughts and words.

And then as part of my devotions two days later, I read this in  “In Tune With the Infinite” by Ralph Waldo Trine….if hatred should come from another, without apparent cause on your part, then meet it from first to last with thoughts of love and good will…in this way you can so neutralize its effects that it cannot reach you or harm you.  And I said, Thank You God.

A few weeks earlier I had read  in Matthew 5:11, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.”

And I thought, Lord, nobody has persecuted me because of you. Maybe I’m not doing a good enough job for you.

The letter, among other things, included this sentence, “You constantly preach the word of God but do not follow his words.”

Finally….I am being persecuted for His sake and I say, Amen to that.

Its’ a Cardinal Thing

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I have a thing about cardinals. Not the baseball Cardinals, or the religious Cardinals, but those beautiful, red-feathered birds.

They are my sign that all is well when that is sometimes not the case. Just to see or hear one of these cheerful creatures immediately uplifts me.

One beautiful summer morning, while meditating in the garden, there appeared to be more birds than usual fluttering around the feeder.

They seemed to be performing some kind of ritual.  A few of them pecked away at the seeds while others hovered nearby, waiting their turn.

Then, I noticed the birds on the ground feeding each other with the seeds spilling from the feeder.

I sat spellbound watching birds splashing in the bath, swooping and diving, twittering and chirping; ordinary backyard birds; sparrows,  starlings, robins, a finch or two and one female cardinal. Time seemed to stand still.

I was entranced as I watched. Three or four sparrows splashed around in the bath, drank, shook a rainbow of water from their wings, and flew away while others took their place.

The female cardinal took over, vigorously flapping her wings, and sending sprays in every direction.

I remember thinking this whole show was being performed just for me, and that the beautiful, bright red male cardinal, would appear on my clothesline as the grand finale.

As I sat waiting, secure in the knowledge that this would be the case, I suddenly realized that time was not standing still, and I had to leave for work.

Reluctantly leaving the sights and sounds, I went into the house to prepare for the long day ahead.

Disappointed that I would miss the cardinal’s appearance, I was ready to leave when I heard his distinct whistle, “cheer, cheer, cheer”. I knew that when I looked out he would be there—and he was.

“Thank you!” I breathed to God and the red-feathered bird sitting on my clothesline.

It was going to be a great day.