Tag Archives: Jesus

What Would You Do?

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You are having a dinner party. You have invited friends, family, acquaintances; and you have invited Jesus as the guest of honor.

Well, upon hearing this, many of the guests begin making their regrets. A party of fifty-odd is now whittled down to a mere half dozen or so people. My question is this.

Do you say, “I’m sorry, Jesus, there are some people who don’t know you, or understand you, or where you are coming from, and I can’t afford to ruffle their feathers–would you mind taking a rain check?”

Or do you graciously accept the sudden declines, and enjoy the company of your Guest of Honor, along with those who are delighted to accept the invitation because He is the guest of honor?

I would enjoy the dinner party if Jesus was the only guest!

What would you do?

What Would You Say?

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This will be a series of short posts tying in with everyday life.

A guest Pastor at our church, on Sunday, asked this interesting question. He was relating the story of how blind Bartimaeus received his sight in Mark 10:46.

Rev. Livingstone then asked us this question, “If Jesus asked you ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ (verse 51), what would your answer be?”

A question well worth pondering, would you say?

My immediate answer was, “Please heal my friend of her cancer.”

What would you say?

 

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.

 

 

Do Not Worry

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The more I think about this worry habit, the more I feel for the people who haven’t conquered it yet. It is so freeing, not to worry, just like quitting smoking… so freeing.

Jesus says, in Matthew 6:25…do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.

Well, you’re saying, that’s okay for Jesus to say, but what about this wedding that’s coming up? What am I going to wear? Well, you’re going to do one of two things, you are either going to go out and buy a new dress/suit, or you will find something in your closet that will suffice nicely (or maybe not so nicely, but will suffice.) After all, the focus is not going to be on you, now, is it?

I can say this with confidence, and I’ll tell you why. Many years ago, I attended a highschool graduation of a young lady I knew very well. The girls were decked out to the nines in gorgeous gowns, upswept hair, and impeccable makeup. The guys looked good too. All were smiling confidently.

But the focus was on a young lady dressed in a nicely starched and ironed, plain white blouse, and a pair of blue jeans. Her  pretty face was bare of makeup and her hair was tied back in a short ponytail. She followed in the procession, head high, shoulders back, wearing  a not-so-confident smile.

She was aware of her poverty, and the difference it made between her and her class mates. Although she was graduating head of her class, she had told her teachers that she would not be participating in the ceremony or the gala festivities afterwards. Neither she, nor her parents, could afford the upscale restaurant meal that was part of the celebration; nor for obvious reasons, would she be attending the prom afterwards.

One teacher was so proud of the young lady’s achievements, that she encouraged the girl to receive her diploma along with the class, even if she felt like Cinderella, and insisted on paying for her dinner. “You deserve that much”, the teacher emphasized.

And so, there she was, in blue jeans and ponytail, no longer worrying what she should wear, or what she would eat.

I was not alone in feeling that that young lady was the most beautiful graduate of the evening, nor was I the only one who saw Jesus in the teacher.

 

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.

The Stranger Who Held My Hand

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Many years ago, during a very trying time in my life, I had a dream where I was walking alone on the observation deck of the TD Centre, Canada’s tallest building in the seventies.

I circled the deck endlessly, feeling sad and depressed after the breakup of my twenty-one year marriage. Somehow, being fifty-six stories above the earth, seeing the city in panorama, was like looking at my future without a partner and I began to cry.

Suddenly, a faceless male figure, dressed in a robe came beside me and held my hand as we continued the walk.

I woke up to a powerful tingling sensation pulsing through my entire body.

I was reading All Things Are Possible Through Prayer by Charles Allen for the umpteenth time (it is such a wonderful book), when I came across this:  “And when a person has a firm hold on God’s hand, he has the power and strength flowing into him to keep him on his feet.”

I had highlighted the passage at some time, and now it reminded me of my dream.

I have always felt that the person in my dream was Jesus.

That dream gave me the strength and confidence to endure the years of single parenting, financial hardship, and life without love until it appeared once again to a waiting heart.

 

I’m a Believer

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I believe I was born a believer, but it took the better part of my life for me to realize this as a fact. It’s only in looking back, as I have in writing this book, that I can see God’s hand in my life from the day I first poked my head into this world.

Chapter Forty  –  I’m A Believer

The old, white, clapboard church sat on an angle of land in Pottageville, Ontario. I was four years old when its tolling bell beckoned me. Pottageville is a small hamlet between Schomberg to the west, and Kettleby to the east, along the Aurora Road, north-west of Toronto. My grandma’s small, tar paper house was set back from the road with lots of yard space for my sister, Mary, and me to play. Every Sunday I hung over the barnwood fence, gazing longingly as people streamed up the road towards the church, and disappeared through the wide open door. As I watched, I wondered what went on in there. I begged my grandmother to let me go to church, and one hot, summer morning she dressed me in a pretty white, cotton dress with tiny pink buttons down the front. Pink ankle socks and white shoes completed my outfit. Grandma pulled my long hair tautly into a thick braid that bounced on my back as I skipped happily along the country road. I was greeted at the church door by a pretty lady. “Are you by yourself?” she asked……. “Everything is possible for him who believes.” (Mark 9:23) Tomorrow:  An excerpt from Hal Bennett’s book, Writing From the Heart; one of the many inspirations that led to the writing of My Precious Life.

Jesus Was Jew

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Lessons in life are sometimes hard to learn but in this chapter I learned  one suddenly, and quickly, at the age of ten.

Each chapter ends with a scripture and starting today, I will include these at the end of each excerpt.

Chapter Ten  –  Jesus Was a Jew

She made me wet my pants.

Freddie Lafferty and I were hurling insults at each other. We were ten years old, and didn’t know the meaning of most of the words we used. It was called the insult game.  The final name I threw at him after he called me horse face was Jew!

As the word left my mouth, a lady came out of nowhere dressed from head to toe in black. She pierced me with her black eyes, and whacked me on the arm with her oversized, black purse.

“Shame on you,” she said, “Jesus was a Jew!”

I felt the hotness running down my legs, and began to wail. I ran home as fast as I could. Lafferty’s voice screeched after me, his skinny body bent over in laughter.

“She peed her pants! She peed her pants!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. The mean old lady trundled off down the street with a final, “Shame on you!” thrown over her hunched shoulder…….

 

But no man can contain the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.  (James 3:8)