(source)

And when he comes, he will open the eyes of the blind

and unplug the ears of the deaf. 

The lame will leap like a deer,

and those who cannot speak will sing for joy!

Isaiah 35:5,6 

I wonder sometimes what I am missing by not hearing music.

I don’t remember, really, what bells sound like, or tinkling chimes.

What does it mean that a song is rich? Or layered and complex?

Why do people get in their cars and immediately reach for the power button on the CD player? My vintage 1976 Mercedes doesn’t even have a CD player.

And yet I see my son and how he loves his music. How he fits certain kinds to match his moods— loud and driving and strong for courage of conviction, soft and low for worship, crazy drum solos and crashing cymbals for joyful thanksgiving.

It all sounds terrible to me. When I’m “plugged in” (Comer-speak for when I have my cochlear attached to my head) it sounds just like the garbage disposal eating egg shells and ice. When I’m “unplugged” I hear nothing.

And this morning as I read about the building of the Temple by Solomon, I am struck by words about music. Bells on priest’s robes, musicians gathering to form choirs, and this:

All these men were under the direction of their fathers as they made music at the house of the Lord. Their responsibilities included the playing of cymbals, harps, and lyres at the house of God. Asaph, Jeduthun, and Heman reported directly to the king. They and their families were all trained in making music before the Lord, and each of them—288 in all—was an accomplished musician. The musicians were appointed to their term of service by means of sacred lots, without regard to whether they were young or old, teacher or student.

(1 Chronicles 25:6-8)

A family of music makers. Can you imagine the fun they had? The noise their neighbors put up with? And do you notice they all got to play? From the very beginner to the very best, this family made music together for the Lord.

And I wonder again what I am missing.

Would my worship be sweeter if I could sing along with my iPod?  If I didn’t cringe at the metallic clash of cymbals through my cochlear, would I smile and sing and shake my head like my son? Dance a jig in the hallway like he does when he thinks no one is watching?

Am I missing out on joy?

I try not to think about things like that— to accept my life now and be grateful for all I have. The fact that I can talk to my children and hear what they have to say is nothing short of a miracle that would have been impossible just 20 years ago.

I know that and I am thankful. Every morning when I put that thing on my head and reconnect with the sounds of living, I thank God that I can hear, that I am not isolated and alone.

But still I wonder.

And someday I’ll know.

On that day I step from this world into the Presence, I’ll hear the music. And you will too, but I’ll hear it in a way I think most people won’t. I’ll hear perfect music with perfect ears that have been deprived of something God made.

And I’ll be great friends with that tribe of people who couldn’t see here on earth- the blind ones drinking in every sight, marveling, touching, exclaiming at the beauty. And the ones lame leaping and dancing and doing somersaults— those who were confined by crippled bodies for too long.

I’ll be the deaf girl singing. At the top of my voice— no more pretending I hear more than a note or two. I’ll pick up the microphone and belt it out for all to hear— for me to hear.

And you? What is it you’ll go after when God brings you into His arms and says, “Welcome home?”

My dad, whose failing lungs hold him back now, will probably head for a hike high in the newly restored Sierras. Matt will eat whatever he wants, unhindered by a diabetic’s restrictions on carbs or insulin. My friend Becky will get up from her bed and lead us all in line-dancing.

I am missing something by not hearing music. I am supposed to hear music. And I think its good for me to just spend a moment or two grieving over the loss from time to time.

Not to wallow, just to wonder what I have waiting for me.

And isn’t that wondering part of the waiting? Part of why we wait on tippy toes?  Longing for the Day. The Someday.

With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands,

and encourage those who have weak knees.

Say to those with fearful hearts,

“Be strong, and do not fear,

for your God is coming to destroy your enemies.

He is coming to save you.”

Isaiah 35:3,4 

From my heart,

Diane

Dear Son, Many months ago you came to me with a pressing question. I could see all the bottled up worry working its way through your limbs… fidgets, incessant nose rubbing, scratching imaginary irritants—you were itching and twitching with anxiety.

And of course, that got me worried! What’s going on? What’s the matter? I barely got my concern out of my mouth when your words burst like an unkinked hose.

“I don’t know what’s the matter. I want to move deeper into a committed relationship with this girl. She’s perfect in every way. She loves God passionately, likes me, encourages me, shares my goals, is funny and gorgeous… but I feel like God keeps saying ‘No, wait’. And I don’t know why. What’s wrong? Is it me? Is it her?”

On and on you spilled your angst at not knowing what God seemed to be saying to you. You thought you knew your own heart, but not God’s. And that bothered you...A lot.

So I told you what I learned, "You are experiencing what the preachers and writers and listeners from times past used to call 'a check in your spirit'”.

My advice? 

Wait... “If you do not know what you ought to do stand still until you do.” F.B. Meyer  wrote that  Be still... Shh. Quiet all that noisy self-talk   Stop talking... to your friends, to yourself  Listen… until you’ve had a chance to hear that voice and figure out what He’s hinting at 

What do you hear in the silence?

Is there a nagging worry you’ve tried to ignore? Something not quite right but not blatantly bad?

Or are you just afraid...

That you’ll be labeled a player if a few weeks from now you realize you just don’t click?  That you might get hurt? Embarrassed? Rejected?  Or are you, perhaps, still ingrained with the mystic idea that ‘the one’ is waiting just around the corner to fulfill all your dreams? The perfect match. Your soul mate.

Son, you know,  I don’t believe in perfect-soul-mate-matches-made-in-heaven. More often, I see two God-centered people blending and giving and compromising and rubbing off rough edges and working it out and figuring it out and becoming one… and that’s rarely easy or ideal or especially romantic. 

Too many soul-probing questions without definitive answers?

I have learned not to push those questions underground because God speaks so quietly. He presses on our soul subtly. He asks us to lean in a little closer, He invites us to linger over Scripture a little longer.

So here’s my list of mom-made advice:

• Wait
• Watch
• Stand still
• Lighten up
• Go play soccer with some friends
• Savor a cup of coffee and a good book
• Relax
• Don’t force it
• Have fun

And then go talk to Dad, because he’s not so mystical about finding God’s path. He’ll ask questions and write pro’s and con’s charts on yellow pads of paper.  He’ll say, “Invite her over!” and then he’ll embarrass you and make everyone laugh and you’ll know a lot about how you really feel.

And so next Monday, I’ll post just what your dad has to say. Maybe he’s got a story to tell…

From my heart,

Mom

Questions & Comments: Go ahead and ask and I’ll try to answer as best I can.

• How this looks in real life?
• Do you have a question about what I mean? 

(souce)

Dear friends, since God loved us that much, we surely ought to love each other.

1 John 4:11

Ruth 2v1-23

The Gleaning (Part Five)

(Click here to listen to the third Ruth teaching)

Verse of the Week:

“...WE WERE AS GENTLE AMONG YOU AS A MOTHER FEEDING AND CARING FOR HER OWN CHILDREN. WE LOVED YOU SO MUCH THAT WE GAVE YOU NOT ONLY GOD’S GOOD NEWS BUT OUR OWN LIVES, TOO.” 1 Thessalonians 2v7b, 8 NLT

More Words from the Father:

1 Samuel 1v19-2:11

1 Samuel 2v18-21

John 19v25-27

Ruth 4v15

Psalm 127

Psalm 78v1-7

From my Heart:

Pages from the past: September 1998

Off to School

 Today my little boy went off to school.

He was afraid. I was afraid.

He was excited. So was I.

He was brave. I cried.

We chattered cheerfully in the van on the way to school. He looked so fresh and grown up in his new haircut, plaid shirt tucked neatly in, appropriately cool baggy pants and black suede tennis shoes. I took pictures in front of the flagpole. He smiled.

Walking into the classroom, he gripped my hand in sweaty palm and sat oh-so-quietly at his pint-sized desk.

“Don’t leave yet, Mom. Wait ‘til all the other parents go…”

I rubbed his back and labeled his supplies. Crayons, scissors, lots of glue, a binder covered in G. I. Joe stickers. I took a picture of my little boy at his desk. No smile.

Time for Mom to leave. One last squeeze of his shoulder. One last kiss on his cheek and out the door.

That’s when the tears betrayed me. Unbidden, they pushed against my eyes, threatening to embarrass me completely. Gulping them back, I waved with false cheer at a neighbor and drove in my empty van to my empty house. So quiet.

No chaos, no arguments, no laughter, no messes.

I have looked forward to this day. I have made plans. For years I had said, “When my children all go to school…”

Yet today I can do nothing. I grieve an end of an era. An era I have loved, filled with memories I cherish.

I did my share of complaining to be sure. “Can’t I even go to the bathroom alone?!” But I loved the unrushed mornings cuddling with blankie and bear and my squirmy little boy.

I loved the Lego creations and the storybooks and Wee Sing tapes. I loved sidewalk chalk and popsicles dribbling down dimpled chins. Rainy days spent building forts in the family room with blankets anchored with encyclopedias.

Most of all, I have loved the absolute trust in his eyes. He knows I am here for him to protect him, to be proud, to understand.

For I am Mom. Matthew’s mom. The Best-Mom-in-the-Whole-World.

That is who I was yesterday when I held him as a babe in my arms. It is who I am today as I leave him at his desk- at school. And tomorrow, when he is a man, I will still be…Mom.

From my heart,

Diane

ETC.

King Eglon

“the very fat man” 

The ancient Jewish Midrash claims that Ruth was actually the daughter of the infamous Moabite King Eglon. Of course, no one can know for sure, as there is no concrete written record to confirm such speculation. Reaching back into history, let’s take a look at his story…

Sometime towards the beginning of the period of the Judges of Israel, a despised Moabite King led a coalition of Moabites, Ammonites, and Amalekites (all of whom were distant relatives of the tribes of Israel, descendants of Lot’s incestuously conceived sons) who attacked and conquered the land of Promise. King Eglon and his entourage set up some sort of headquarters at Jericho also called the City of Palms. There they collected a required monetary tribute from the subdued yet subversive Israelites.

In 1933, a British archeologist uncovered the Palace of Eglon. It was a single structure set in solitude amongst the rubble of the once great city of Jericho. On top of the building was an “aleah,” a rooftop sitting room that provided a cool retreat from the heat of the day. These rooms were built to catch the prevailing winds, a kind of unmechanized air conditioning, which only the very rich enjoyed. It was there that King Eglon sat in all his condescending splendor to accept the tribute so abhorrent to his conquered enemies.

For 18 years, King Eglon ruled over the Israelites, draining their already subsistent economy to the point of poverty.

Finally, the over-burdened people of God “cried out to the Lord” (Judges 3v15). Yahweh had prepared a man for this very purpose - a man named Ehud. His name means “loner” and indeed, he stood alone for God in his courageous and dangerous mission. Ehud was an interesting choice. The text states that he was left-handed, but a further look at the Hebrew wording indicates that in reality, he relied on his left hand due to the fact that his right hand was rendered useless. Ironically,

Ehud was born into the tribe of the Benjamites, which means “son of the right hand.” In spite of his handicap, or maybe because of it, God used him to set His people free from a particularly oppressive enemy. Here’s how it happened: Ehud studied his opponents meticulously before crafting his daring plan. He knew that the guards had become careless over the years. No one had ever made a valid threat on their king’s life. It was their habit to haphazardly search visiting emissaries with a cursory search for weapons on the right side of the body. After all, every soldier knew that weapons might be hidden on the right side of a man’s body where they could be drawn swiftly. In addition to that useful piece of knowledge, Ehud understood that the king was an enormously obese man who spent his days on the aleah in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort in the hot Middle Eastern climate. His own country of Moab sat high on a plateau, cooled to a comfortable year round temperature by breezes from the Mediterranean Sea.

Crafting a custom-made sword, which historians believe would have been at least 30 inches long, he strapped it to his left side before entering the King’s chamber to pay his tribute. After much bowing and a plentitude of eastern obeisance, the entourage filed out. But not Ehud. He turned to the king and whispered, “I have a secret for you…”

At once, the foolish King sent his bodyguards out; eager to hear what he must have thought would benefit him in some way. Alone, now, Ehud approached the King, thrust the double-edged sword straight towards his belly, and killed him. To his surprise and horror, the sword disappeared into the fat man’s belly without a trace (My, the gruesome stories that must have proliferated around the campfires that night)!

Quickly, Ehud slipped out of the rooftop chamber, locking the doors behind him. As he hurried out of the palace he could hear the worried whispers of the servants, wondering why the King seemed to be taking so long. “Perhaps he’s going to the bathroom,” (the less-than-polite transliteration of the idiom “he’s covering his feet” in verse 24) the servants murmured, as they went about their business. Meanwhile, Ehud escaped unnoticed and blew a trumpet in a signal to summon the fighting men of Israel. They gathered at the ford of the Jordan River, cutting down thousands of Moabite men fleeing their fallen king.

-Read all about it in Judges 3-

Midrash

The Jewish Midrash is an ancient commentary on parts of the Hebrew Scriptures. These were written by rabbis “both steeped in Bible and absorbed by the Jewish questions of their time.” In particular, the “Great Midrash” is the name of the collections linked to the five books of the Torah (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy) and the “Five Scrolls” (Esther, Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, and Ecclesiastes).

Compiled between 200 and 1000 A.D., these writings are, in effect, commentaries, which have earned the respect of Jewish scholars and teachers. These documents hold no claim to infallibility and are used primarily for the application of Biblical teaching to Jewish life and law.

I’m pretty sure pasta is my husband’s love language. Duke would eat “clean noodles”, as he calls them, (pasta with nothing on it) for every meal of the day if I let him.

So, naturally, any meal that consists of pasta in any form makes my boys happy!

Whether you have been cooking your whole life or just learning to find your way around the kitchen, spaghetti is a pretty simple meal to make. However, it is often filled with sausage or ground beef and packed with Parmesan cheese to create more flavor.

Sometimes these additions can turn it into a meal that slows you down instead of one that fuels your body... and if you are anything like me, you need all the energy you can't get!

I’m not a fan of fake meat substitutes due to the fact that they are usually full of ingredients that don’t add a whole lot of nutritional value.

And they often taste, well...fake.

That’s why tempeh (pronounced tem-PAY) is a great product to use in dishes that could really use a “meat like” flavor and texture if you are trying to eat a plant based diet . And it is great for added protein.

So what is tempeh?

• Tempeh is a nutritional superhero. Tempeh's fermentation process and it’s retention of the whole bean give it a higher content of protein, dietary fiber and vitamins compared to tofu, as well as firmer texture and stronger flavor.

• Tempeh is a great choice for people who have difficulty digesting plant-based high-protein foods like beans and legumes or soy foods such as tofu. Because tempeh is a fermented soy product, its enzymes are partially broken down, making it easier to metabolize.

• Tempeh has a bit of a nutty flavor and easily takes on the flavors of whatever you are cooking it with. It works great in tacos, stir fries, salads and just about anything else you can think of. It can be crumbled or cut into strips.

• Most grocery stores carry tempeh, you just might have to ask where to find it.

This recipe is my take on healthier, “meaty” spaghetti and a warm comfort food on a cold rainy day.

I’m still working on convincing Duke to eat more then just “clean noodles” and that vegetables will give him strong muscles like his dad… but this spaghetti is a start!

ENJOY!

Elizabeth

TEMPEH AND VEGGIE SPAGHETTI

dairy free

serves 6

INGREDIENTS: 

• 1 bell pepper
• 1 medium zucchini
• 1 small onion
• 4-5 mushrooms
• *1 package of tempeh
• *3 cups marinara sauce
• 3 T (or more) nutritional yeast (this can be found in bulk at Winco, Whole Foods or New Seasons. It adds a cheese - like flavor and is packed with vitamin B12)
• 2 t garlic powder or minced garlic
• 1/4 t pepper
• 1/4 t sea salt
• A few dashes of cayenne pepper (optional)
• 1 package of whole wheat or brown rice noodles

*I used the Organic Three Grain Tempeh from Trader Joe’s for $1.39. It does contain barley which contains gulten but original tempeh is gluten free and only contains soy.

*I keep it super simple and use the jarred sauce but you can make your own too.   I use the Organic Tomato Basil Marinara Sauce from Trader Joe’s.

*Anything goes with the veggies! Add whatever you think sounds good.

TO MAKE:

Heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a large pan over medium heat and add chopped onion and crumbled tempeh.

To crumble the tempeh, simply break it up with your hands until it is all crumbled into bit sized pieces.

After the mixture begins to brown, add chopped bell pepper, zucchini and mushrooms. Stir well and let the veggies begin to cook up.

After a few minutes, add nutritional yeast, garlic, pepper, salt and cayenne pepper.

Let the veggies cook up until they are just beginning to soften and brown and then add the marinara sauce.

Let the sauce mixture simmer for 10 – 15 minutes on low so that all the flavors can combine and do their magic.

While your sauce is simmering, cook up some noodles in salted water.

TO SERVE:

Serve over noodles of your choice and top with fresh basil.

ENJOY!

[print_this]

TEMPEH AND VEGGIE SPAGHETTI

dairy free

serves 6

INGREDIENTS: 

• 1 bell pepper
• 1 medium zucchini
• 1 small onion
• 4-5 mushrooms
• *1 package of tempeh
• *3 cups marinara sauce
• 3 T (or more) nutritional yeast (You can buy it in bulk at Winco, Whole Foods or New Seasons. It adds a cheese - like flavor and is packed with vitamin B12)
• 2 t garlic powder or minced garlic
• 1/4 t pepper
• 1/4 t sea salt
• A few dashes of cayenne pepper (optional)
• 1 package of whole wheat or brown rice noodles

*I used the Organic Three Grain Tempeh from Trader Joe’s for $1.39. It does contain barley which contains gulten but original tempeh is gluten free and only contains soy.

*I keep it super simple and use the jarred sauce but you can make your own too.   I use the Organic Tomato Basil Marinara Sauce from Trader Joe’s.

*Anything goes with the veggies! Add whatever you think sounds good.

TO MAKE:

Heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a large pan over medium heat and add chopped onion and crumbled tempeh.

To crumble the tempeh, simply break it up with your hands until it is all crumbled into bit sized pieces.

After the mixture begins to brown, add chopped bell pepper, zucchini and mushrooms. Stir well and let the veggies begin to cook up.

After a few minutes, add nutritional yeast, garlic, pepper, salt and cayenne pepper.

Let the veggies cook up until they are just beginning to soften and brown and then add the marinara sauce.

Let the sauce mixture simmer for 10 – 15 minutes on low so that all the flavors can combine and do their magic.

While your sauce is simmering, cook up some noodles in salted water.

TO SERVE:

Serve over noodles of your choice and top with fresh basil.

ENJOY!

[/print_this]

(PART FOUR)

Dear Matthew,

I know your iron clad commitment to sexual purity. I admire your decision to keep a close guard over your passions, reigning in all those desires that can make life a constant battle for a man. I have just the faintest clue of how hard it must be and that sets me to praying for you every day; for strength, for wisdom, for protection from an enemy who would love to sideline you through spur-of-the-moment stupidity.

And then I go to a gathering of Believers on Sunday and see all those beautiful young women vying for men’s attentions. Some are chaste and subtle and content to remain hidden until God brings them to a man in His time.

But others are not. Many are not. And they dance their bodies before the eyes of men who must look away or burn with forbidden desire. Too much skin, too tight jeans, too bold in their beauty.

Why do they do it?

What are they saying?

What do they want, these women who love God and allure men with suggestions of more?

Here’s what I think— because I’ve been there and done that and just barely escaped giving more of myself than I ought. And we’re all the same, us women. Deep down we need and want and long for the same things.

Five Things Every Woman Longs For:

1.  Every woman longs to be desired.

This is why women flirt, why some uncover too much. There is this little girl inside of every woman that longs to draw a man to herself. To be sought after, to be wanted. And yes, this goes for the sexual area of her relationships as well. A woman cannot separate her sexuality from her soul. To be desired sexually feels like being desired as a whole— that is what every woman thinks and believes and feels.

2.  Every woman longs to be loved.

It is a woman’s deepest need; for a good man to love her for who she is, to love her no matter what, to love her forever. Every woman is born wanting this and many— far too many women spend their entire lives hoping and wishing and working and sacrificing everything in order to get this kind of love. Yet few ever do. And I think God weeps.

3.  Every woman longs to be cherished.

To be valued and considered, to be wanted. To be treated like a fragile piece of crystal rather than a disposable plastic mug. Paul goes so far as to command husbands to cherish their wives, comparing women to the Church and husband to the Savior. (Ephesians 5) This translates in a woman’s mind to carefulness— with her feelings, with her body, with her soul.

4.  Every woman longs to be protected.

It is there even in the fiercest of women, this need to be watched over and guarded from harm. Instinctively, a woman knows that God created men to protect women, to represent God’s warrior-like protection over His creation. Which is why a woman who marries a man who did not protect her purity while dating or engaged, often feels an inexplicable distrust of him.

5.  Every woman longs to be led.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… and again… and again. Women want to be led. Not bullied, not dominated, not forced. And we all know there are mean men out there who are tyrants. But the complaint I hear by far most often from women is not about abuse— it’s about passivity. Men who cannot summon the energy or the confidence to step out and lead, or initiate, or communicate where in the world they’re headed.

To lead takes tremendous courage, I know, but dear sons who are listening, I pray you will have the courage to lead as you are led by Christ.

From the heart of a mom who prays for you and for your friends,

Mom

(source)

MONDAY:

The alarm wakes me early, a flashing light rather than the raucous beep rousing Phil. Morning hours in my Northwest home are dark, frigid, chilling me as I push back the comforter. No time for tea to chase away the sleepiness while I rush to get ready.

Excitement fully caffeinates me. We are going to Haiti!

Passport- check

Camera- check

Flip-flops, cotton skirts , bug spray, a couple of good books to read along the way.

Did I forget anything?

By the time we arrive on the other side of the country excitement is waning, worn thin by weariness. Disloyal thoughts push persistently in.

What are you thinking? Haiti? Land of sweltering humidity, rodent-sized bugs, mud-flecked waifs with pleading eyes.

Pushing through the dread, I edit and add and delete and rearrange my notes.

Still too many words.

How do I tell my story short when it must be told in two languages? How do I talk about pain to a people who hurt every day? How dare I?

I sleep uneasy in a worn airport hotel, unacknowledged fears causing crazy dreams.

TUESDAY:

3 a.m. Bleary eyed, I follow Phil mutely to the shuttle. A Haitian driver blesses us for traveling to his land. Five duffel bags of gifts for the women I will be teaching cause a ruckus at the check-in counter— the official bumps us to first class when he learns what we are carrying to the land of his birth. Two brothers in line talk to Phil. One, an American citizen now, is escorting his brother to the airport as he heads back to Haiti. Both are pastors and they embrace Phil when they learn the reason for the hold up.

My fears subside as I realize I am being escorted by Believers sent to guide and guard us on our way.

7:30 a.m. Just a few steps into the Haitian airport and we are met by a man wearing a crisp white uniform, hand extended, welcoming us. Madame Juene wheedles her way past security to embrace me, face damp with that delicious moisture the women wear like make-up on their smoky skin. Sisters, bound by the same Father, on similar paths in different lands. Mike joins us, Zebby too! A van full of welcome weaves through chaos I barely see as we talk and question and chatter and digest a year’s worth of living. Doris stares silently at the pictures of my granddaughters. The blackness of Sunday’s skin glues us together and she laughingly agrees she has my nose. We arrange marriages to keep us all in the same family.

After a tour of Grace Village, presentation of a plaque still sticky with varnish, speeches made by Bishop Juene, Pastor Mike, Pastor Phil, Sister Phil (!), and the school principle, I am drenched in not-so-delicious moisture.

The hotel that night feels decadent.

WEDNESDAY:

6:30 a.m. I’ve slept in!

More work on my notes, strong coffee, we get on our knees by the bed and remind God what He clearly knows— we don’t know how to do this.

A half a dozen times people have asked me if I am excited to go to Haiti. They want me to say yes, I want to say yes. But the real truth is no.

The real truth is that I am here because my Father told me to come. Yes, we were invited, but how easily we could have said No, not this year. We’re too busy, too much work at home, too many people will be inconvenienced, we will be inconvenienced.

But both of us felt that persistent push. As if God wasn’t impressed with out busy-ness. As if He was waiting to hear a different answer. A yes.

I remind myself on our way to the venue. Over and over as my insides clench and that voice on my shoulder reminds me again and again that I am not adequate. Over and over my spirit fights back. My adequacy is in Christ. I am here for Him.

And then I see these Haitian women. Dressed in their best, timid, as afraid of me as I am of them. We worship and sway and sweat and sing and all fear flees. Of course I am excited to be here! Yes, yes, yes!

For almost an hour I talk. Madame Juene translates, two sisters wrapped in different shades of skin, side-by-side, given courage to give courage to courageous women.

I tell my story of failure in suffering.

A white woman born to privilege hurts too?

They cry and we laugh and they embrace me as one of their own. And suddenly it dawns on me that the only reason I have anything at all to say to these Haitian pastor’s wives is because I suffer.

Deafness is my platform. Failure is the door to intimacy.

Next comes the teaching.

Now they sit forward, they take notes, the literate flip through their Bibles, grey heads nod and catch my eye and say something I understand without words, young women listen.

For another hour we talk. They’re my girls now, my daughters and sisters.

The heat feels fine, I love this land!

For lunch the men join us. When I see Phil he is as white as a ghost. I push water and worry until I realize that his paleness may have more to do with my looking into beautiful brown faces all morning than illness. He’s fine— full of laughter and all that charisma and the camaraderie that comes with men in ministry. A man’s man, he is welcomed into a world not all that unlike his own.

In the sweltering afternoon we teach together for the first time. Mics fail, the fan doesn’t work, there’s not room on the pulpit for both our notes… and we love it!

I listen amazed at his uncanny ability to admonish and encourage all at the same time. The men laugh, they take notes, these men who have learned a different way of fathering.

Phil waves his big black Bible and I tell stories. The men clap for me— and I think they’re really clapping for Phil as I tell them how he enamored our children with the Scriptures.

We have no idea until later that we’ve inadvertently taught a way so long hidden that these men are shocked by the truth that no one teaches here.

To teach and love and encourage your children? To eschew anger as a method of discipline? To listen to your wife as she hears their hearts? Really?

Phil’s long lists of specific Scriptures for each point nail it.

Back in our air-conditioned hotel we both fall in bed exhausted, exhilarated, wondering how in the world we’ll do it again tomorrow.

THURSDAY:

5 a.m. More editing. Slash, cut, we’ve got to make this shorter.

I am hit by a dark wave of insecurity. I want Phil to tell me that I’m a great teacher, riveting, hilarious. Man-like he’s all about the task. Faintly I hear the echo of my own notes but manage to ignore wisdom and get myself to the edge of panic.

What am I doing here?

I fake my way right up until I get up to teach, but that dark voice won’t leave me alone. I think it’s me talking sense to myself. My sista, Zebby,watches from the front row and spots it. She prays. All of a sudden everything changes. My tangled tongue straightens, the women laugh and I don’t know why, we’re clicking again and I know it, feel it, love it.

Afterwards we know a demon is defeated by Zebby’s praying. I wonder what would have happen if she hadn’t.

FRIDAY:

I sit on a plane humbled. Again.

How is it that God keeps insisting on using this weak woman? Why would He? I fail again and again and He just sends someone along to help and sends strength to do what I cannot and takes the words that stumble awkwardly out of my mouth and turns them into something good.

And I haven’t told you half the stories of all the nice things He did along the way. Bumped to first class, switched to the exit row, a chance to pray, eyes wide open, with a new Believer who needed courage on the other side of the ticket counter in Florida. New friends, reunions, time to hear stories and marvel and laugh and tease and hold hands and be together.

So good.

Tonight Matt will take us home. He’ll fill us in on Monday’s Jesus Pizza at Grant High School, on theology classes at Multnomah, on friends and people and jokes and fun. I’ll soak polluted pores in a hot, scented bath and sleep under mounds of fluff.

I’ll be home. And happy.

From my heart,

Diane

 Ruth 2v1-23

The Gleaning (Part Four)

(Click here to listen to the third Ruth teaching)

Verse of the Week:

“MAY THE LORD, THE GOD OF ISRAEL, UNDER WHOSE WINGS YOU HAVE COME TO TAKE REFUGE, REWARD YOU FULLY.” Ruth 2v12 NLT

More Words from the Father:

Psalm 36v7-8

Psalm 91

John 14v1-6

Matthew 10v16-31

2 Timothy 1v7

From my Heart:

In the Shadow

Fear has stalked me my whole life.

Since I can remember, I’ve been afraid. Afraid of heights, afraid of falling, afraid ofgetting lost in the grocery story, afraid of getting in trouble, afraid of anything fast.

Nicknames get attached to little girls like that…

Scaredy-cat,

Chicken,

Worry-wart...

I was afraid of people too. Afraid of being noticed, of talking to someone I didn’t know. Afraid of standing in front of people, of giving book reports, of giving speeches. Afraid to walk to my teacher’s desk to ask a question (After all, someone might see me!).

My imagination ran rampant. It ran my life, defined my days, and determined my future.

And my fears grew up with me.

As a teenager, I was afraid to walk through the courtyard area where hundreds of students gathered for lunch. Instead, I’d walk all the way around the school to slip into the cafeteria unnoticed.

As a young woman, I was terrified of staying alone at night. Every creak and groan of our old house shot a surge of adrenalin through me. Was someone there?

I wouldn’t drive alone to visit my little sister in college three hours away. The roads were isolated, after all. What if my little Volkswagen Bug broke down?

Earthquakes scared me the most. When I was fifteen, my family moved to California. Every few months, it seemed, the earth rattled and shook. The slightest tremor would leave me weak-kneed for weeks. I imagined the house coming crashing down around me, being trapped, alone. The rumbling of a truck left me scurrying for cover, an airplane overhead sent my heart racing.

But somewhere in there I gave my heart and life to Christ. I heard that He was my Father.

That He cared about me. That He would take care of me. I read His Word and sang His songs and surrounded myself with His people. Little by little, fears fled. I grew more confident, composed even.

But earthquakes were still my undoing.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bed once, talking on the phone, when the bed began to wiggle wildly. I turned to scold my son (sure he was bouncing on the bed!) only to realize that the whole room was shaking! I could hardly sleep on that antique iron bed after that, every movement felt like that tremor.

I prayed for courage…prayed for strength…prayed for healing…

Nothing.

It seemed I was destined to be defeated by fear for the rest of my life.

Then it struck. On a mellow October day, the Great Quake of ‘89 rocked my world. Literally. As soon as it started, I knew it was a big one. Really big. Hollering for my kids over the earsplitting roar, I grabbed them close as we huddled in a doorway. When it was finally over, we weaved our way through our broken glass-filled living room to the back yard. News from neighbors filtered in fast. Several tuned in to the emergency broadcast system since phones were out and power lines down. Hundreds of people had been crushed beneath falling bridges and buildings. Some were still trapped.

And that’s how God freed me of fear.

In that moment, when all our lives were completely and unequivocally out of our control, He stepped in. He took over. He became to me who He is-

 El Roi: the God Who Sees

El Shaddai: the All-Sufficient One

Adonai: Master

Who can fear when He is so supremely in charge? When the Master of the Universe, the One who can shake and subjugate the very earth, is watching over me, how dare I be afraid? Suddenly my fear-filled life seemed silly, trite, and petty.

A few weeks later, Phil and I wrote our first and only song together. And though the tune is over two decades old now, the words still ring true and ageless. Perhaps this is a song Ruth could have sung as she labored out in those fields, gleaning, working, sweating, yet resting in the shadow of the Almighty (Ruth 2v12).

In the Shadow of His Wings

By Phil and Diane Comer

In the shadow of Thy wings I find my refuge,

In the shadow of Thy wings I will abide,

It is there that I will lay my burdens and my cares,

It is only there my heart finds rest.

It is there that I will feel You lift my heavy load,

And in the shadow of Thy wings,

In the shadow of Thy wings,

Yes, in the shadow of Thy wings

I’ll rest,

For in the shadow of Thy wings

I’m blessed.

In the shadow of Thy wings, I find my refuge

In the shadow of Thy wings, I will abide

For You are the source of strength

To those who wait for You

And in Your strength I’ll run and not grow tired

For You are the Most High God,

It's You that I desire

And in the shadow of Thy wings,

In the shadow of Thy wings,

Yes, in the shadow of Thy wings,

I’ll rest,

For in the shadow of Thy wings

I’m blessed.

From my no longer fearful heart,

Diane

ETC.

Words

Wings

Boaz pays Ruth a beautiful compliment when he meets her for the first time. Apparently, he’d been inquiring about her previously, for he already knew of her reputation around town.

“May the LORD reward your work, And your wages be full from the LORD, The God of Israel, Under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” Ruth 2v12

The Hebrew word translated here as “wings” is kenapayim. Later in Ruth 3v9, the same word is translated into English with the word “skirt.” When a woman took refuge under the “skirt” or the “wings” of a man’s garment, she became his wife - his to take care of, to provide for, to lead, and to love. All the town, and Boaz especially, took notice of Ruth’s devotion and dependence on Yahweh. She was like one married to Him. Faithful, determined, secure, and thriving.

No wonder Boaz couldn’t keep his eyes off her!

Words

Fear

Jesus taught that fear is something to be battled. We have the ability to choose not to fear.

Fear and afraid come from the same Greek word: phobeo. It is where we get our English word, phobia. The meaning is rich and graphic: to put in fear, terrify, frighten. At its root is a sense of terror and of running for your life. 

Timidity is a little different. Deilia means cowardice or one who is cowardly and fearful.

Paul spoke of a “spirit of timidity” that does not come from God (2 Timothy 1v7). He also referred to a “spirit of bondage” which leads to fear (Romans 8v15). Both of these spirits are to be replaced with the truth of God’s Word.

(source)

This morning early Phil and I got on our knees and asked God to give us what we did not have: wisdom, insight, understanding of a culture so different than our own.

We told our Father what He already knew— that this task He has assigned for us— to inspire and teach and encourage and exhort the leaders in Haiti, is beyond our ability.

And as Phil prayed, I wondered… what am I doing here? 

Nothing about this assignment fits who I am. 

I’m a home-body— not an adventurous bone in my body.

I don’t like heat or sweating or dirt or bugs— all of which thrive in Haiti.

And my nose works far too well for this land where running water is scarce and sewage runs open down the streets.

In our harrowing car ride from Port au Prince to Carafour I tried to avoid looking out the open window because when I did, the chaotic, devil-may-dare driving seemed surreal. That and the men with machine guns standing in the middle of intersections.

The strangest thing is that I’ve never once felt afraid.

Me— the one who double-checks the locks in my perfectly safe suburban house.

Add to all that my introverted shyness, my aversion to the limelight, and you know why I asked God, “What are You thinking? I think you’ve got the wrong woman here…” 

And yet, here in this land so far from the familiar, I feel myself turn into a different woman.

Bugs don’t bother me in the least.

The heat feels fine even as sweat drips down my legs and melts the make-up right off my face.

And here I’m not shy.

I am Pastor Diane Carole Comer to these Haitian women.

We are not different— we think and laugh and hurt and fail in all the same ways.

These are my sisters. I am one of them.

This morning I told them things my own kids have never known about me. I told stories of my failures and my discoveries and my joys and deep regrets. We know each other. Kindred spirits who wear our skin a different shade.

And that is exactly why I am here.

Not because I like this place. Not because of the weather or the safety or how comfortable I am or am not.

I am here because something in my story resonates with something in their stories and we share the same Father who is writing something magnificent and magical and mystical in each of us.

And maybe this whole story fits together in some way. Maybe I can’t understand mine until I hear theirs.

Maybe hearing that I hurt helps these women who have suffered so terribly and so often to hurt a little less.

And maybe you need to tell someone your story.

Because maybe someone needs to hear your story in order to make sense of theirs.

And maybe we all need each other’s stories so that we can understand the mystery God is writing at this time in his-story.

A lot of maybe’s…

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Thank-you, dear friends, for praying for me while I am here.

I am sticky, sweaty, dirty, uncomfortable and having the time of my life!

(PART THREE)

Dear Matthew,

I’ve been writing to you for the past few weeks about sexual purity in relationships. First I told you Rebekah and Steve’s story. Then I wrote a list of how’s.  In this letter I want to talk to you a little about why.

You see, my son, I have spent many hours listening to stories and wiping tears and praying over shattered young women.

And my heart has broken with their brokenness because those wounds are hard to heal and marrying her doesn’t make it go away.

I am a mom— not a psychologist, not a doctor, not a researcher with numbers to prove my point. I’m just a mom who loves women and loves to listen and wants to help.

This is what I know:

1. When a woman gives herself to a man, she gives her whole self.
2. She risks rejection in the hope that she will gain his love and faithfulness forever.
3. Men are not like that. Men are fully capable and comfortable with being intimate sexually without giving their hearts away.
4. Many good men have no idea how deeply they are wounding the woman they love by exploiting her vulnerability. They mistakenly assume that she wants what he wants— and its just not that simple.
5. She wants more than he wants. Sex for a woman is not simply release of pent up desire, it is a craving to be desired, to be the center of a man’s universe— forever.
6. When a man does not honor a woman’s true desire and he takes her sexuality to slake his thirst for sex, he is responsible for deeply wounding her soul, even when she is a willing participant. And she will bear those wounds for the rest of her life.
7. And marrying her doesn’t make it go away.
8. One last thing that every man needs to know: God made a woman’s sexuality to be inseparable from her soul. When she gives herself away, she gives herself away.

And that, my dear son, is something to think about.

Matthew, next week I’ll tell more of the story I know. Because you need to know and so does every young man whose heart is good but who lives in this world of mixed messages.

•       Why do women dress provocatively if they don’t want sex?
•       Why is she flirting?
•       What does she want?
•       How can a man give her what she wants without taking what she has no right to give and he has no right to take?
•       What happens when a fully committed man and woman choose to indulge their passions before marriage?

From my heart,

Mom

Do not let sin control the way you live;

do not give in to sinful desires.

Do not let any part of your body become an instrument of evil to serve sin.

Instead, give yourselves completely to God,

for you were dead, but now you have new life.

So use your whole body as an instrument to do what is right for the glory of God.

Romans 6:12,13

(NLT)

^(source) 

If you keep yourself pure, you will be a special utensil for honorable use. Your life will be clean, and you will be ready for the Master to use you for every good work.

2 Timothy 2:21

NLT

Ruth 2v1-23

The Gleaning (Part Three)

(Click here to listen to the third Ruth teaching)

Verse of the Week:

“THE LORD WILL ACCOMPLISH WHAT CONCERNS ME…” Psalm 138v8a NASB

More Words from the Father:

Genesis 1

Psalm 90v12,16,17

Psalm 30v10

Psalm 57v2, 3

Psalm 138v8

Ephesians 2v10

(John 14v16; 15v26; 16v7)

From my Heart:

Tossing and Turning

I worried as I tossed and turned all last night. A running dialogue of what if’s and mustdo’s galloped behind my closed eyelids, robbing me of rest and leaving my bed a rumpled mash of misbegotten bed sheets.

It was a relief to wake up!

Rolling out of that wrestling ring of worry, I reached for two ibuprofen to ease the aches and pains my buffeted body bore, padded down to the kitchen to make my morning tea, lit a candle or two to chase away the sodden gloom, and drank in the healing Words of God.

Comfort…

Assurance…

Control (His, not mine!).

Soon my weariness lifted as I poured out my petty worries to God. Like a child, I showed Him my “owies.” Nothing earth-shattering or even heart-breaking, just daily stuff and my usual “How will I get it all done?” My self-imposed standards of perfection chasing joy and peace right out of my day. He reminded me - with the patience that makes me love Him all the more - of a few lessons already taught, if not yet fully learned. I’ll pass some of those on to you, in case you’re popping a few aspirins of your own…

1). Don’t cram too much into one day. Specifically, don’t crowd too many different categories of tasks into one day. Looking back at His plan for creating the world (a bit bigger than my burdens today), each day took on a logical, well thought through order. First light, then the skies, then land on which to grow food, then seasons…You see the idea? He had a plan. My frantic hurrying from thing to thing leaves me exhausted, discombobulated (I love that word!), dingy, and out-of-sorts. No wonder my head aches!

2). Acknowledge what you have done. Again, in the creation story, at the end of each and every day, the Lord looked back over His accomplishments and relished the completed creativity of His work. A simple notebook will do the job. Set it beside your bed and take a few minutes each night to list the things you did accomplish that day. Come on, write it down! You’ll be surprised how much you did on a day when you “didn’t get anything done.”

3). Remember who is in control (hint: not you!). If only I could get this one through my thick head! I am not in charge. I have abandoned my life to God and told Him in all sincerity that I want Him to control everything, everyone, every circumstance, every detail of my life. But He’s not so neat and tidy. He does things differently than I do. And He doesn’t usually tell me why! (Read Psalm 138:8).

4). He has a plan and purpose for me. This is one of the most exhilarating, energizing truths to ever grip me. The fact that He has specific tasks for me to accomplish… assigned tasks just for me…wow! I read once that giving your kids chores to do around the house enhances their self-esteem. So I did. Lots of chores. They were the most self-esteemed kids on the block. And now I have a chore list from the Father…because He thinks I’m the one to do it. Every time I think about that, I sit up a little straighter, clear my desk, and get to work (read Ephesians 2:10). …and moms, remember that your tasks have names…

We don’t know if Ruth worried or if Naomi lay awake at night wondering what to do. But we do know that their lives were full of challenges. There was plenty to worry about. But this story is written for our encouragement - to let us see how our Father works behind the scenes to help us.

After all, Helper is one of His names!

From my heart,

Diane

(Check His name out in John 14v16; 15v26, and 16v7).

ETC:

Mystery and Mystique

Many students of the Word see shadows of truths taught elsewhere in Scripture played out in this story of Ruth. These scholars tend to lend a metaphorical meaning into the biblical narrative. The dispensational theologians, such as Merrill Unger (Unger’s Bible Handbook) read all sorts of lessons and prefigures into many of the characters and events in Ruth. And while certainly not the original meaning behind the story, a speculative look at this form of interpretation is at the very least, insightful.

Here’s what he says:

1. Naomi reflects Israel, the chosen people.

2. Elimelech depicts Israel’s prosperity in the land, married to the Lord and faithful to Him.

3. The sorrows of Naomi speak of spiritual failure and chastisement.

4. Elimelech’s death in a foreign land illustrates Israel’s national rejection of the Lord during her years of exile.

5. Naomi’s return to Bethlehem suggests Israel’s decision to set her face homeward.

6. Orpah, who remained in Moab, speaks of the unbelieving mass of Jews who elected to remain among foreign lands when Israel was reestablished as a nation.

7. Ruth portrays the faithful remnant of the nation, which will ultimately come in touch with the Kinsman-Redeemer.

8. The barley harvest signifies the end of the age (Matthew 13v30).

9. Ruth resting at Boaz’s feet represents the truth that rest can only be found at the foot of the Redeemer.

10. Boaz is a type of Christ, our Redeemer.

Beware however, of pressing this too far. J. Vernon McGee, a well-respected expositor, writes that such interpretation is indeed “suggestive” but warns his readers against “wandering off into the field of speculation.”

(source)

In just five days Phil and I will board a plane for Haiti.

We're going together for the first time, an adventure for just the two of us. Once there we'll have the joy of dedicating a building at Grace Village which Solid Rock paid for, then we'll head back across town for the real reason we're there.

One thousand Haitian pastors and leaders and their wives will gather to be encouraged and taught-- and we get to do the teaching! I am more than a little humbled-- why us? Why me?

Aren't I still just the shy fear-prone one? The one who stumbles over words and gets so scared she can't choke it out?

Or maybe that the me I used to be and now I'm the woman who loves women and loves the Redeemer and is different than I'd ever thought I'd be. Maybe He's changed me and I've hardly noticed those changes.

Or maybe that is how I really am and He takes over in magnificent ways when I tell Him I can't and I believe He can.

Either way, I'm going. Fear prone but not fear defeated. All my weakness and all His strength.

Will you pray for me? For us?

On Wednesday, January 23 and Thursday, January 24, we are each teaching a total of 6 times. Phil will speak to the men twice and I'll get to share with the women both times too. Then we'll do a session together about Ten Things To Teach Your Children.We're going as a part of the Luis Palau Team. Andrew Palau is bringing a Festival to Haiti in March and this is their way of gathering the pastors in order to enrich the Church.

My interpreter is a trusted friend, Madame Doris Juene. She's one of those rare "kindred spirits" and I fully trust her to make up for any cultural mistakes I might make! Sister Doris and I share the same heart for the women and her grand humor and godliness always strengthens me as only one of God's chosen servant's can. I pray that I can give back to her in per portion as she gives to me.

I love knowing that you will pray! I love knowing that God delights in answering your prayers!

And I'll try to post from Haiti too. And Instagram and tweet and Facebook and all that. But power and internet are spotty there so if I'm silent, just pray. Please.

Serving Him in His strength and with your prayers,

Diane

Years and years ago when I first knew I was going deaf and I thought the future looked impossibly bleak, these words sank deep into my soul. May God use them in your heart today...

"It seems to me clear beyond question that in the lives of God's beloved there are sometimes periods

when the adversary is "given power to overcome".

This power need never overwhelm the inner courts of the spirit, but it may press hard on the outworks of being.

And so I have been asking that our dearest Lord may have the joy (sure it must be a joy to Him) of saying about each one of us...

"I can count on him, on her, on them for anything. 

I can count on them for peace under any disappointment or series of disappointments,

under any strain.

I can trust them never to set limits, saying, "Thus far, and no further."

I can trust them not to offer the reluctant obedience of a doubtful faith, but to be glad and merry as it is possible."

Amy Carmichael in Rose From Brier

May we be worthy of His trust.

From my heart,

Diane

(PART TWO)

Dear Matthew,

Last week I told you a story about your sister, Rebekah. I described to you a story of a man who took his responsibility to protect the purity of a woman seriously.

This week I want to tell you how.

Every movie, every TV show, every story you see in public is rife with impurity because our culture sees impurity and immodesty and immorality as manly… and sexy… and cool.

What you never see is the shredding of trust, the feelings of insecurity, of being used and abused and abandoned. That stuff.

You know a better way because you have read The Book.

Words like:

You shall not commit adultery. Exodus 20v14

and

You have heard the commandment that says, ‘You must not commit adultery.’ But I say, anyone who even looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. Matthew 5v27-28

and

It is God’s will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control your own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God; and that in this matter no one should wrong or take advantage of a brother or sister. The Lord will punish all those who commit such sins, as we told you and warned you before. I Thessalonians 4v3-6

So here is a mom-made list of how to protect a woman’s purity:

1. Tell her right up front exactly why you intend to keep your relationship pure. (That way she won’t wonder about the weirdness of a relationship that doesn’t get all hot and heavy)
2. Make rules for yourself. (As in 'Do Not Touch' except for fondness and affection)
3. Do not spend time all alone together. (You’ll be less tempted to go too far if you always have an audience)
4. Tell some trusted friends that you intend to keep this relationship pure. (Just the ones who will face this battle with you instead of laughing all over Facebook)
5. Invite people to question you. (Make it easy, don’t be defensive, they’re not saying they don’t trust you… just that you’re crazy to trust yourself)
6. Don’t look at pornography! (It’s the fool who thinks he can feed a fire and not get burned by it)
7. Be honest with her when it’s hard. (But please do not make this a frequent topic of conversation!)
8. Assure her often of your feelings for her. (Women are conditioned to think that men who paw at them actually love them— and they can get insecure unless you tell them otherwise)
9. Date for a long time to get to know each other well, then be engaged for a short time. (There is something about that engagement ring that can make it really hard to stop)

It takes a man to follow this kind of advice.

It takes strength, determination, moral muscle.

It takes a man who is so passionate about Jesus that he chooses to curb his own God-given passions.

You are such a man, Matthew. May He give you all His grace.

From my heart,

Mom

And girls… do not settle for anything less.

(source)

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.

You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,

that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever!

Psalm 30: 11-12

 Ruth 2v1-23

The Gleaning (Part Two)

(Click here to listen to the third Ruth teaching)

Verse of the Week:

“FOR JUST AS THE HEAVENS ARE HIGHER THAN THE EARTH, SO ARE MY WAYS HIGHER THAN YOUR WAYS AND MY THOUGHTS HIGHER THAN YOUR THOUGHTS.” Isaiah 55v9 NLT

More Word from the Father:

Isaiah 55v8,9

Proverbs 16v3

Psalm 37v1-34

Jeremiah 29v11

James 4v13-15

Matthew 11v28-30

From my Heart:

A Test and a Task

 “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55v8, 9

God didn’t just sweep in and rescue Ruth. He didn’t “heal” her. Instead, God gave her a task to do. A test of obedience.

A job to accomplish.

And that’s so often the way He works.

We want healing; He gives enabling. We want answers; He asks questions. We yearn for guarantees, signs, wonders; He waits for faith, yielding, and surrender. His ways often perplex us, usually confuse us, and always satisfy us in the end.

God knew what He was doing with Ruth…and she didn’t have a clue. She didn’t need to and she wasn’t supposed to.

And that, my dear friends, is just the way it is…

From my heart,

Diane

ETC:

Gleaning

A bite to eat…

They were two hungry women without income, without land, and without a provider. Their city had no welfare office to request assistance. There were no women’s shelters, no soup kitchen. What were they to do? While Naomi twiddled her aching thumbs, Ruth came up with an idea. Gleaning. Where she heard of it, or how she thought of it, is unclear. The practice was uniquely Jewish.

Like many countries today, most of the Middle East relied on subsistence agriculture to feed their people, barely. Trade was nearly non-existent, and generosity might well jeopardize the well being of the giver’s dependents. All this left two widows without resources in dire straits.

Gleaning, however, was God’s idea. First mentioned in Leviticus 23:22, and then reiterated in Deuteronomy 24:17-22, the Israelites were commanded to leave a little behind when harvesting all kinds of grains, grapes, and olives. That enabled the poor to provide for their basic needs through their own hard work. And gleaning was indeed hard work! Bending over for hours on end, pulling and cutting the grain, battling flies, rodents, snakes, and people who prey on the disadvantaged, this was not for the faint of heart.

For Ruth to stoop so low (pardon the pun), she had to have been desperate. No wonder she felt the need to ask for Naomi’s permission before she set out. When she “happed” (that’s the quaint King James wording) to land in the field of Boaz, who happened to be a distant relative of her father-in-law, who also happened to be a kind and God-fearing man, even the soured and cynical Naomi did a little jig for joy.

Gleaning became Ruth’s task, Naomi’s blessing, and God’s rescue.

What Did They Eat?

Since the earliest of days, God’s people have celebrated His abundance with feasts and food. It was His idea, after all! As a means of remembering His goodness, He instituted a series of holidays throughout the year, all of which involved good food. But what did they eat? Where did they get it? How was it harvested?

Historians and archeologists have found a plethora of evidence indicating just what the Israelites ate in the Promised Land. Let’s take a look at what filled their larders.

Seven crops dominated the farm land of Canaan:

Wheat- mostly ground to make bread.

Barley- also ground for bread and other baked goods, sometimes eaten raw.

Grapes- primarily red grapes were grown for wine, to eat fresh, to make vinegars and raisins. Raisin cakes were used as a favorite “fast food” which could be taken on a journey.

Figs- figs ripened in June and then again in August or September. The first crop was generally eaten fresh, and the second picking was dried to eat during the winter months. Figs were also used in the making of special wines.

Pomegranates- juice and wine were made from fresh pomegranates harvested in the hot Judean summer months. The seeds were eaten fresh or dried for later use.

Olives- harvesting the olives during the months of September and October gave the Israelites plenty of rich olive oil for cooking and baking. The oil was also used as a medicine, a lotion, lamp oil, and for anointing kings to their thrones. There is, however, no record of the Hebrews eating olives in Old Testament times.

Honey- some scholars believe that the honey referred to throughout the Old Testament is actually the juice produced by the date palm tree. The juice was extracted from the trunk of the tree and used as a drink, either fresh or fermented.

There were other, less plentiful foods available as well. Apricots and nuts (such as almond, pistachio, and walnut) were cultivated. Legumes were grown, including beans, lentils, chick-peas (we know them as garbanzo beans), and peas. Eventually garlic was planted, as well as onions and cucumbers.

And of course, the shepherds of the land kept the people well supplied with the meat and milk of sheep and goats as well as the by-products thereof, such cheese in many forms.

The Promised Land was indeed a land overflowing with abundance. With hard work and God’s blessings, the people of Israel need never have suffered a moment of real hunger. They could trust God to feed them from the abundance of His hand as long as they kept their covenant promises with Him.

The Blessing

“The Lord will make you abound in prosperity…in the offspring of your beast…in the offspring of your ground, in the land…The Lord will open for you His good storehouse, The heavens, to give rain to your land in its season and to bless all the work of your hand…” Deuteronomy 28v10-12

The Curse

Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and a glad heart, for the abundance of all things; therefore you shall serve your enemies whom the Lord will send against you, in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness, and in the lack of all things…” Deuteronomy 28v47-48

(source)

I am a slowpoke.

Not because I’m lazy, though I do have my moments, but because noticing beauty takes time.

When I’m whizzing around getting everything done I miss the beauty God sprinkles along my path. I get all tense and barren. And those dread messages of “not enough” hound my every hurried step.

This morning I was supposed to get through four chapters according to my Bible reading chart. So far I’ve managed 2 verses.

Two cups of tea and 2 verses.

I’ve been reading chronologically through the Old Testament since September. Fascinating to see the story in real time- beginning at the Beginning and reading Job right after the debacle of the Tower of Babel. David’s disasters and the Psalms he wrote in response to God’s rescue plan.

Why haven’t I done this before?

But how can I whisk through poetry? How dare I miss the beauty?

And so I’m not sure I’ll reach the end of the story by the end of my should. And I’m not sure I should.

Maybe what I should do is go at my own pace. A laconic stroll through wisdom... drinking in every sip... swallowing truth I need to know... writing words about what I want to be... because of what He’s done for me.

A slow poke.

I dare not let my self-imposed should’s and ought to’s and supposed to’s make me miss the beauty.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. And you? Have you latched on to a plan for your time in the Word this year? Are you getting up a little earlier to open wisdom and let God sprinkle it into your heart and mind?

I’d love to hear what you’re doing and why. Whether you’re zipping through to get the Big Picture (a wise way to go for sure!) or going slow or maybe a little of both.

P.S.S. And moms-of-little-ones how are you doing it?

(PART ONE)

Dear Matthew,

Today I just want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a beautiful maiden. She was the delight of her father and the joy of her mother.  She was extraordinarily intelligent, a voracious learner, a lover of God, a passionate follower of Jesus. And she loved people.

She really loved people.

Hurting souls flocked to her for warmth and care and she never failed to give. Sometimes she brought the broken ones to her father and mother and said, “Here’s one for you to fix, won’t you pour some wisdom into this failed one?”

One day this Beauty went away on a Grand Adventure. She left her love-filled home to seek her fortune and her calling in a place that cried out for all she had to offer.

Her parents prayed… and cried… and prayed yet more. To let their delight, their joy go into a world filled with so much bad frightened them.

While she was in that land away from home… the beautiful maiden met a boy.

Messages flew back and forth between the beloved girl and the mother and father way back home. Hers filled with descriptions and wonder and feelings and hope. Theirs weighted with dire warnings, lessons, reminders, and worry.

One day the father mounted on the wings of the wind and flew to where the daughter lived and loved. He brought a thick black Bible, an arsenal of words, and a fierce scowl.

The boy came trembling but true. He shook the hand of the father, looked him in the eye, and assured him of his faithful following after the King.

A pause…

They sat… They talked… They even laughed a time or two.

And then the father said this.

For more than two-score years I have protected my daughter in every way. I watched over her when she was just a babe in her mother’s arms. I provided for every need before she had it. I have loved her and taught her and poured the best years of my life into her. I have prayed over her and for her and with her.

I ask just one thing of you: Guard her purity.

With that warning, the father mounted his flying steed with a swish of his cloak, and returned home.

The boy did what the father commanded. He watched over the beloved daughter. He cared for her and loved her and won her heart.

And he protected her purity.

When the day came for the father to give the girl-turned-woman to the boy-turned-man in marriage, a great celebration took place in all the Kingdom.

With the greatest joy, the father and the mother who had loved their girl with so much hope, embraced the one who had honored the King by protecting their daughter.

And every day they thank the King for that mighty man. And they pray for him and they believe in him and they love him as their own.

May Steve and Rebekah live happily ever after.

The End.

And so my son, may you do the same when someday you see a daughter of the King you want for your own.

May you protect her purity with the fierceness of a warrior.

From my heart,

Mom

(source)

…Let us cling to Him and never stop trusting Him. 

Hebrews 4:14

NLT