Turn it off.
Pull in sails.
Turn it off.
Turn it off.
Pull in sails.
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Where you come from, I don’t know
Where you go, can’t say for sure
Just knowing that I know you,
Knowing that you’re here
Is enough to feel all right.
Bits of things have great visual significance. I love to put words, of course, in these atmospheric images and perhaps this will be my next business card. What do you see?
I never wonder why God wants me to guard my heart. The overwhelming evidence supports the reason He commands us to “not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 ESV).
An unguarded heart frets and whines and fears. Lions and tigers and bears of life, all around us, all the time, can force us to worry. Forces outside our control can cause us to fear. We might complain from our constant condition of need about what we have or don’t have. And that is just no way to live. No gratitude there! Do I dwell every day among the calm and gracious? No. I bump along, willy nilly, head in the rubble. I must return to Scripture. Verses like the one here open me up and bring me to trust and confidence in Him. The little brick road ahead beckons, the woods lighten up, and all those destructive creatures keep away from my guarded heart, just as if Someone knows how to protect me really well.
Today, in what should be the hottest part of the year, the temperature is 76 degrees. It even rained last night and this morning. The canvas rocker on the back porch had a gallon of water in the seat. I captured it in the watering jugs so I can water my plants there when the temperature goes back up to the hotter nineties range.
It might even go to a “hunerd” degrees pretty soon.
Maybe I am wrong. Maybe we should say that the hottest time of the year in Central Texas is September. My college friend, Bob, used to walk outside the dining hall after the evening feed and say,”It’s hotter ‘n’ fried radishes out here!” And he was right.
Hammocks in the Heat
Sand at the Beach
Froggies Singin’ Cuz It Just Rained Today
A few little book titles, or song titles for us to ponder on a cooler summer day.
For several years, I have struggled dealing with whether or not to track down my biological father. Just this week I came to a peace-giving decision. I just don’t need to find him. Why would I want a relationship with a man who raped my biological mother? I had some romantic notion that he would be sorry for what he did sixty years ago, and wondered if my biological mother was okay, and would want to know his offspring. What a ridiculous long shot that would all be! So I have let that go.
And then yesterday, out of the blue, a wonderful thought came to me about my Dad. He is the man who committed legally to adopt me and keep me as his daughter and give me a life full of blessings and opportunities. I realized that my father never spoke a cross word to me. Never.
One time, I made a big mistake at the church youth dance on a Friday night. A bunch of the girls brought liquor all mixed up in a Mason jar and we drank it down and proceeded to get busted. My poor mother had to come get me. Mortified. My father was out of the country but when he returned, he said not one word to me for a couple of weeks. And this is what he finally said. He smiled and said, “Well, I went behind the barn myself a couple of times.”
So that is the man I call father. Earthy father, that is. I have never had a problem with my heavenly Father. The two of them are enjoying each other in heaven as we speak.
It seems I am very good at draggin’ the past with me wherever I go! All the “if-only” things around me drag me! So do authors just start writing even if their cabinets aren’t organized? do artists just paint even if their laundry isn’t done and put away? If I could just get paid for organizing cabinets and doing my laundry and putting it away! Oh! And there is the bush trimming, the errands and groceries, the correspondence, the mother-in-law needs, the searching for jobs that don’t fit anyway and on and on and one more thing to do before I start writing or painting. Ugh-ness. Routine-ness. Hopeful-ness. Time to see about the dog now! She doesn’t mind if anything else happens except her sniff around the neighborhood. Happy New Year!
Jeremy Begbie of Cambridge and Duke Plays piano while he teaches about theology through the arts.