The World Wrapped Up

II Corinthians 4:15 -- "All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God."

a tad hazy due to the glass - but there they are!!

Four white and slightly warped wooden slats on the left side of my bedroom bay window stay open all day long.  Just four. For two reasons, really - one: the blinds are broken and I can no longer open them using the twist rod. But two: and this is the main reason - I can watch the birds eat from my bird feeders without really being seen. I do this frequently through out the day. From that treasured spot where the carpet bares my footprints in a comfortable and well-worn fashion - I watch my downy woodpecker couple. The blue birds with their rust colored chests and bright blue feathers.The little palm warblers with their splash of yellow. The chipping sparrows - I love their tiny little song. And of course - the tiny little gray gnatcather that I can only really see when they hop around on the magnolia tree and reach down for the suet holders. The hummingbirds I can watch from directly under the feeder - they don't mind me and I can take good pictures from there. But alas, the other birds flee the coup when I step outside the porch.

We have some visitors from up north - we call them Mr and Mrs Canada. The male goose will actually come to the porch screen and honk loudly in the morning -- asking for breakfast.  He won't stop until one of us takes him a big gulp cup of cracked corn and wild bird seed. He does, indeed, have us well trained. And the other day - peeking out at the rain and the swollen pond inching ever higher past its normal banks - I saw the male Canadian Goose - head held high, watching while his feathered bride ate corn. And next to her - were four ugly-cute fuzzy little goslings that resembled fat little chickens with short wings. Congratulations, I said to him with a giant grin on my face - Mr. Canada is now a happy papa. Papa, by the way, will eat from our hands if we're careful and he's in the mood to do so - mama on the other hand, still hisses when I bring the cup out in the mornings. Now I know why.

the jig is up - papa sees me

Imagine my delight - when last night just before sunset, I looked out the window to see another Mr. and Mrs. Canada. I know - it might seem a bit odd that I can tell the couples apart - but the reason I can do this is - this new couple had four ugly-cute goslings, as well.  Only their fuzzy little quad is much smaller - as Steven says - those guys are fresh. Just out of the shell. I was tickled pink. Two whole Canadian Goose families - a mama and papa Mallard with nine young - AND two young Mallard couples yet to sport their little hatchlings across the yard made for quite the water foul party at the bird feeders last night. I smiled big. So did the boys. Let me tell you, it's quite cool to watch teen age boys light up bright with giant grins from ear-to-ear over a few baby birds. THAT by itself was a gift.

G.K. Chesterton wrote: "The greatest of poems is an inventory." And ya know what? He was right. Elizabeth Barrett Browning also had the right idea when she wrote: "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." These lists - the inventory that these two authors penned couldn't lead anywhere but to thankfulness. And, as I endeavor to be a more thankful person, I see the truth behind these well written words - bird party is going on the list. Strait into the pages of my gratitude journal.

Surely this is a cause to thankful - to remember that "all of this is for our benefit" - that we may offer thanksgiving, overflowing glory to our Father and Creator!

As I reluctantly turn from the window to start dinner for my three men - I smile deep. I can feel it all the way down to my toes. My inventory grows fat.

Sandalwood

Psalm 143:5 -- "I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done."

There is an intimacy I find soothing when my hand-crafted soap is nearly done - churning away in my old pot on the stove - and I've developed perfect trace. Now, it's time for the fun part. From a recipe that I've scribbled into a notebook, I choose the fragrant oils and herbs and begin to gently mix them into what will become a batch of five ounce bath bars.

The moment the oils go into the pot I think of my Grandmother, Margaret Babb. It's the Sandalwood. Every single time I smell it I remember the way she would talk to me while she sat in her special powder room hidden away in a cubby that set off from her master bedroom. She once told me that a girl needs a powder room, not just a bathroom. It was important.

As I looked around her carefully decorated hide-away I saw all the little details she'd put into her space. The silver mirrored tray that housed her brush. Perfume bottles. The old blue chaise framed in mahogany and the little stool on which she would sit while she looked into the mirror and fussed with her hair and make-up. I remember her voice. And I'll always remember the smell of Sandalwood.

I smile to myself as I pour my soap into the mold, a small barely noticeable upturn of the corners of my mouth - the one that is reserved for Margaret Babb - the one that automatically forms when I smell Sandalwood. It makes me miss her, yes - but it never fails to remind me of the joy I had in knowing her.

What triggers your favorite memories? They say that smell is the one sense tied most strongly to memory. It seems to be true in my life. While Sandalwood makes me think of Mamaw, Tommy Girl makes me think of my honeymoon in Williamsburg Virginia, and Cranberry Pine makes me think of Christmas.

While we don't have a smell that can trigger a personal memory of God or our Savior, Jesus Christ - we DO have The Word. We have the smell of wet earth after a rain storm. Or the salt in the air off the ocean. We have the wonderful aroma of spring when the orange blossoms are at full bloom and the magnolias open up their large petals. We have the smell of smoke laden chimneys when it's cold outside and the mouth watering aroma of a fresh cooked turkey at Thanksgiving.

The cool thing is EVERYTHING can trigger a reminder of God's handiwork. He's all around us.

Now THAT is something to bring a smile to your lips.

Back In The Day

Psalm 33:11 -- "But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations."

Me: At Home in the Philippines - photo by Karl D Babb

Rushing myself through the morning routine and fidgeting relentlessly as my mom tried to put my hair into pig-tails, I could not wait for the school Jeepney to arrive.  I was a bundle of energy and excitement. The day before I had finally managed to stay on my bike all by myself. I couldn't wait to show my friends. I was going to ride through the gates at the end of the drive way when the Jeepney drove up. I would show everyone I had mastered my bicycle.

 It would be so perfect!

In my head I could see all my friends cheer and clap as I pulled up along side the Jeepney and skidded to a halt, kicking up dust from the dirt road. And as the dust plume billowed out around my back tire I would grin and hand the bike off to my mom so she could take it back inside as I headed off to school.

Yup, perfect!

I had a plan! A purpose! I was driven and focused, determined with my eyes steady on the goal!

But as the large gates painted brown and streaked with rust groaned in complaint and provided an opening for my grand entrance, my front tire hit a rock at just the right angle and - already wobbly from my lack of skill - turned too far to the right, pitching me forward and eventually off the bike. I was dumped unceremoniously onto my rear-end right there in front of the entire school. [All 15 students of the little one-room school house].

Tears stung my eyes, my hands ached from hitting the concrete, and my tush was sore. Back in the day, all I had to do was get a big hug from my mom and a kiss on the cheek. Soft verbal encouragement - confirmation that my mom was proud of my efforts.

It seems my goals are a lot more complicated now and the failure to reach them so much more painful than the tumble on the bike I took all those years ago. Things REALLY did seem more simple back in the day.

And not unlike the difference between my star-spangled perspective of yester-year and the clearly outlined focus of the here and now: it would seem that my relationship with my Savior seemed so much more simple when I first believed. Things were clearly layed out before me. There was black and there was white.

Today is would seem that there are more shades of gray than I can even begin to count and the lines between them aren't clearly defined. Where I was more honest with myself about what I was growing through as a child, today I am more likely to bite my tongue and keep the growing pains all to myself. I might not remember to be grateful for the victories, and I surely don't always express the disappointment of my failures.

But God hasn't changed. His plans stand firm and the purposes of His heart are indeed, steadfast. How He loved me as I grew through my childhood, so He will love my children as they grow through theirs.

When the earth seems to shake beneath our feet and our eyes need bi-focals to see things a little more clearly, it might do us all some good to stay focused on our Rock, our Forever, our Steadfast Lord.

Sardines

Psalm 32:7 -- "You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance."

 

The Ten-Boom Hiding Place

There were times in my early adulthood that I was willing to bet that my grandparents had the patience of Job. Having housed a large family, Grandma's place was spacious enough to host my church singles group when we'd get together after services. We'd kiss my grandparents in greeting, raid the fridge, make coffee, and play a favorite game called Sardines.

It was more or less hide and seek - but instead of the "it" person searching for all the hiders in the house - he or she would go hide and all the other players would seek him/her. When a person found the "it" - they would hide along with them. One by one the players found the hiding spot and joined in, until eventually there was only one person left who hadn't found us all. That person was the next "it".

With a group of at least fifteen and often more - the game was SO MUCH FUN! If a really good hiding spot was found, we'd all be jammed in together like sardines [hence the name of the game], giggling in the dark, trying not too make so much noise that we'd give away our position. It was a great way to get to know one another and a hoot to boot. But I recall being so glad when the last person found us so we could all spill out and get a little breathing room. Depending on the hiding place, it could sure get cramped in a hurry.

How my grandparents graciously and consistently opened the door to all of us is beyond me. And I will be forever grateful that they did.

Several years before I joined the church single's group, my family had the opportunity to "back-pack" across Europe with long-time friends/fellow missionaries. Our two-family party of eight experienced some wonderful things on that trip as we galvanized our deep bonds of friendship. From the Louvre, to the old Colosseum in Rome - from the Leaning Tower of Pisa to Madame Tussauds wax museum - the adventures shared on this journey were truly once-in-a-lifetime.  

One thing sticks out above the rest, however. It was my first introduction to the bravery and courage of Corrie ten Boom and her amazing family.

During World War II, with deep conviction, Corrie and her family stood up against racism and mass genocide by hiding Jews and members of what was called the Dutch Underground from the Nazi party. At any given moment there would be up to seven people hiding in a crawl space behind a false wall in Corrie's bedroom. Some would stay for hours, while others were there for weeks until a safe haven could be found to house the refugees.

When we were taken to Corrie's hiding place by a knowledgeable tour guide, I was completely amazed by the tiny space. It was cramped, it was hot because there was no air conditioning and so many people, and I couldn't wait to get out of there. I just could not get my head around the idea that some people spend days, even weeks in such a tiny, tiny space. Ann Frank's family spent months in one.

On February 28, 1944 the ten Boom family was betrayed and the Gestapo raided the home above the corner shop at Barteljorisstraat 19, Harrlem, Holand. Setting up a trap, the Gestapo then arrested thirty people through out that single, fateful day. Laying in wait - they were certain that they would find the Jews they knew to be hiding inside.

The refugees in the tiny crawl space in Corrie's room were never found.  After 47 hours of nerve-racking darkness, they were liberated and secretly whisked away to safe houses in spite of the efforts put forth by the Gestapo.

Corrie's family was not so lucky, sadly. But her efforts and heart-ache experienced in the concentration camps were not in vain. It was estimated that the ten Boom family were able to save the lives of some 800 Jews and protected even more people who served the Dutch Underground.

Corrie was not content to leave it at that. During her years in prison she and her sister told countless others about the love and grace of Jesus Christ. Miraculously hiding a bible in her clothes as the was led into camp, Corrie shared God's Word in the middle of what could only be termed as hellish conditions. She was hidden in Christ Jesus just as she hid others.

If Corrie and countless numbers of God's Ancient People could be hidden during a horribly violent and bloody time, tucked safely away from harm - surly we can hide in Jesus, too - until we make it through whatever pain or turmoil we may face. But like Corrie, perhaps we should never take our eyes from the real goal. No matter what goes on around us, we are here to share the love of Jesus Christ.

I don't think anybody demonstrated that better than Corrie ten Boom.

                                  **visit corrietenboom.com and order a copy of the her book:**
                More Than A Hiding Place: The Life-Changing Experiences of Corrie ten Boom.

Brine In A Bottle

Psalm 33:7 -- "He gathers the waters of the sea into jars, he puts the deep into storehouses."

With our toes buried in the sand and our eyes squinting against the winds that sandblasted our skin, we joined a small group collected on the beach to watch a lonely kayak-er brave the waves crashing on the sand spit a few hundred feet from the shoreline. [Our Dalton gang often heads to the beach when a hurricane blows through. It's the only time we on the East Coast really get any surf.]

I stood there with my mouth agape, watching the crazy person paddle out. A five footer came rolling in and quickly took the man under. On the beach, a few moments later, the yellow kayak washed in - empty of it's captain.

My husband and I tried to peek beyond the breakers, all of us worried that the worst had happened. We could not see the kayak-er. We pushed our way to the shore line to collect the yellow kayak, fearing that we'd need to report a missing "surfer" - but to our surprise, we finally spotted a little dot bobbing up and down in the waves. He rode the rip tide parallel to the shore and eventually made it back to the beach. As He approached I said to him,  "man, we thought you were a gonner."

He shook the water out of his hair and rubbed at his eyes with his hands and then said "yeah, me too."

After handing him the tether to his kayak, we all went on our merry separate ways. He to his home [I presume] and Steven and I up and down the beach in our obsessive hunt for shark's teeth. [There is no hunt as good as the one after a hurricane comes through and churns everything up so nicely].

Mikcler's Landing "Board" Walk

On this day, the waves came all the way up to the last few steps of the wooden walk that lead from the parking lot to the beach. It's not often that surf gets that high at Mickler's Landing in Ponte Vedra. [our beach]. And quite frankly, it's not often that this land-lubber fears the surf, but as Steven, my niece, her hubby, and I trudged up and down the high water mark - I began to feel the fight and fright of every single wave that crashed in around us. Even at the shore line the water was breaking well past my knees and the force of all that water slamming into us put the tired into my bones quicker than most hunts we take to find the teeth. Usually, we had the benefit of daylight to keep an eye out for large breakers that made it past the sand spit. But deciding to take full advantage of the storm, we kept looking - flashlights in hand - well after the sun slipped below the horizon.

Steven and Devan finally took to the safety of the dunes, while Denise and I stayed just next to them on the vanishing shore line. It was wonderful. It was frighting. It literally took our breath away on occasion.

Just as we were about to pack it in, a huge breaker crashed on top of us - soaking Steven and Devan to the waste - and nearly taking Denise and I out into the roiling ocean. Digging into the sand on the dunes and holding on to the guys for dear life - Denise and I popped out of the wave coughing and cold. It was definitely time to head home.

For Scale - Mickler's Landing Beach in the Calm

I'll never forget my underestimation of the power of those breaking waves. I'd never been bowled over during a hurricane before and I promise you it's an experience I will not repeat on purpose.

But I'll tell ya, my attention was certainly drawn to how very BIG is our God!

In Psalms, David tells us that God gathers the ocean up into jars. I stood there, drenched to the bone with no small amount of sand in my pants and in my pockets - rocked by the sheer strength of the Atlantic - and God is so much stronger. So much bigger. So very much more powerful than even the churning waves during a hurricane. And yet, He loves us - so very, very much.

Rain Dance

Psalm 28:7 -- "My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song."

Rain Dance by Kelly Babb Dalton

In my  favorite reading chair I look beyond of the glass french doors to the screened in porch out back and wonder where the owl couple goes when the weather gets like this. My spirits seem heavy laden with the pelting rain and though I look up into the sky beyond the tree line, I see nothing but more roiling clouds. 

Some people FEEL the weather. I am one of them. After so many days of constant rain, I feel the soggy inside of my heart like a damp sponge left on the kitchen sink.

Sigh.

But though the sky is streaked with gray clouds pregnant with fat rain drops, the leaves on the oak trees flit wildly in the wind. The grass seems to glow with a healthy green and the Virginia Creeper vines dance a happy jig to a fast-paced rhythm I cannot hear. All the green around me seems to be throwing a party. My African Lilies sway back and forth like the members of a praise Choir and my orange tree shakes it's heavy limbs bursting with hundreds of green baby oranges.

They are dancing.

In the rain.

BECAUSE of the rain.

Were it not for the gusts of tropical winds and the rain falling from the sky the leaves would be still. Looking up at the sun. Waiting for the next rainfall. They cannot dance on their own. And though their bright broad leaves move along with the face of the sun as it travels across the sky, they can not shake and shimmy without the storms. 

Indeed, they cannot live without the heavy Florida sub-tropical rains and the winds that blow the sea breeze in from the oceans.

I thank the Lord for the rain. I thank him for the soggy grass and the rushing torrents that over-flow the gutters, leaving some streets flooded and large puddles in the parking lots. I thank the Lord for bright colored rain boots worn by enthusiastic children and colorful umbrellas with comic characters splashed all over them.

My heart leaps for JOY - for I am a child of God.

As I move away from the windows I hum to myself - cleaning house to a fast-paced rhythm that others cannot hear.

The Power To Sit

Psalm 27:1 -- "The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid?"

 

The first thing I can think of when I picture Rosa Parks stepping up into the bus and paying her fair - is the tired that she must have felt in her feet. Just off shift from her job at a department store, her dogs HAD to be barkin'. I can FEEL that all she really wanted was to sit down and get home. She worked hard at an honest living and had paid the same bus fair as did every other person who rode it on that fateful day back in December of 1955. But she wasn't allowed to sit like other folks. Especially when the bus began to fill up.

A woman with some age on her, Rosa was actually asked to give up her seat because four white men were left standing in the isle when the bus filled to capacity. She would later say that she wasn't thinking about fear. She was first and foremost, thinking that she was tired. She was tired from her job. She was tired of being rated "second-class", and she was tired of years of injustice doled out to her people all because of the color of their skin. She said that in her mind, someone had to stand up - or in her case, sit down - for what is right. She  also said that as they arrested her, finger printed her, and snapped her mug shot with that horrible number on the wooden plaque in front of her - that she was not afraid. She quoted Psalm 27:1 - "the Lord is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid?" She said that she felt the Lord would give her the strength she needed to endure whatever she had to face.

I think of her as brave. But she didn't see herself that way. She saw that our Savior was her light and He had clearly marked a path for her. For her, it wasn't bravery, but obedience.

Now and again I am faced with a fear that seems so deeply routed in me that there is no way to overcome it's long cold grip around my heart. There are things that I know God would have me do - but I allow fear to win out and His call goes unheeded. A time or two I've been given a great opportunity to talk to someone about the love of Jesus Christ, but I shy away from the social interaction because my heart starts to beat too quickly and my palms start to sweat. Or stage-fright takes over and I don't join the choir or sit on an advisory board.

The thing is - the Lord IS the stronghold of my life - of whom [or what] shall I fear? What if Rosa Parks had entertained fear? What if Moses had given in to his shyness and his fear and not lead his people out of Egypt? What if my parents allowed their fear of a war-torn country to keep them out of Africa or the Philippines - where they served God as missionaries?

Rosa Parks was FINALLY given credit for her bravery [her obedience] when President Bill Clinton awarded her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the very highest honor that can be given to a civilian by the government in the United States. But the truth is, she wasn't looking for this honor. She wasn't looking for glory. She was looking to answer the call she received from her Lord and Savior.

We are called as God's children, to serve. We are not called to fear. Our Lord is our light and our salvation. And really, if God is for us - who can hope to stand against us? Think not of the fear that might come when we try to serve God according to our own might and strength. Instead, look to our Stronghold and our Light!

Paper Bubbles

Matthew14:13 -- "When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns."

There are more than a few moments in our lives when we REALLY need to just get away from everything and deflate a little bit.  The day has been a little too long, the work a little too hard, or in my case - the wall paper job was just a huge disaster.

Several years ago my husband and I were tasked with the tedious job of re-papering a neighbor's bathroom. It seemed simple enough when we measured and got the paper. It looked like it was going to be a rather strait forward endeavor. The rough part - we thought - was going to be getting the giant mirror off the wall and then back on it without breaking it or our backs in the process.

But when we came to the end of the job we'd discovered that there just wasn't enough room behind the toilet tank to get the paper on the wall with flush seams that were free of bubbles. In fact, just when we thought we'd had the job done, the bubbles became quite a problem. We could not squeeze our hands behind the water tank to smooth everything out properly. It took FOREVER! The seemingly simple project turned into a complete nightmare - and while we did finally manage to get everything finished, the job did NOT go as planned. Our "man-made" plans were soon tossed by the way-side and we had to step back a bit to regroup and make several adjustments to our schedule and method of application. Were we quick on our feet? Did we bend instead of break in the wind? Well, I know we DID finish the job - and it's the last time I've ever wall-papered anything.

After hearing that John the Baptist was be-headed, Jesus and his disciples headed out for a much needed retreat. They had planned on a break - to take a quiet breather and cope with the sad news of the death of a dearly beloved friend/relative. The plan was for a little bit of peace and quiet.

It was not to be, however. When it was learned that Jesus was going to "escape" for a little while, he was followed, and alas, when he reached what was to be the peaceful shores of a much needed "vacation" - the beach was packed with thousands of people. His plans were interrupted and he was faced with a decision. Shoo the people away - or meet them with open arms.

We know what Jesus did. He met the throng with compassion and open arms - and didn't even send them on their way when supper time approached, but instead fed the masses with a mere five loaves of bread and two fishes. He felt the needs of the people deeply - and met them with grace and mercy.

It made me think. How do I react when things don't go according to plan? Let's just say - I'm not always graceful and compassionate. I sure am glad, Jesus is.

Little Monsters

Romans 1:20 -- "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities - His eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."

 

Fresh, cool, green St. Augustine grass mushed under our toes as we approached the pond in the back yard. A wonderful Spring Florida sunshine beat down on the tops of our heads and the ducks began to approach us in search of the bread we normally tossed out to them. Alas, we were not here for bread crumbs. Tyler had an experiment to perform and stretched his arm out over the water with his dropper and microscope slide at the ready. I was kind of excited. I was sure there would be something on the slide when we put it under his microscope - I had no idea what to expect.

Once our eyes adjusted from the brightness outside, Tyler prepped his slide and slid it gingerly under the "arms" of the microscope [graciously sold to us from a friend in the lab at the University of North Florida.] Tyler's face lit up immediately. The single droplet of water was ripe with tiny little monsters. It was absolutely crazy with all manner of micro-organisms! For once, Tyler didn't have to be reminded to study or to do his homework. He anxiously took up pencil and paper and began to identify the squirming little life forms on the slide. [He would be tested on it later].

Truly breathtaking, there was an entire world wiggling around on the tiny glass slide at Tyler's fingertips. He looked up at me and said "God is so amazing! How can people see this and NOT know there IS God?"

Good question!

The plain and simple truth is - they can't. I mean, they might try to explain things away from a "scientific" view point, but in my way of thinking - they only end up with a deeper and more detailed description of the power and creativity of God, our Creator! It seems to me that one would have to really, really try very hard to leave our Father OUT of creation equation! It seems so obvious that His handiwork is everywhere!

Paul apparently agreed as he said in Romans 1:20 that man has no excuse when he chooses to ignore God's presence in our Universe. There can be NO denying that the evidence of our Creator is all around us!

Men are without excuse in this regard!

I could not help but smile and thank the Lord that allowed Tyler to see Him in a tiny little drop of water. What a precious gift! What an amazing Father we have! What an amazing Savior we serve!

On The Horizon

Romans 13:12 -- "The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light."

It would probably cause more than one person to stand scratching his head with a huge expression of "she must be crazy" as I park the car in one of the many available spaces in a nearly vacant lot at the beach. A low mist still hung close to the pavement and my feet sloshed into one of the many puddles left by early morning rain. It's quite dark, as the sun - with more sense than I - is still fast asleep for another hour or so. But as I push my way past some overgrowth on the damp boardwalk to the sea shore, I smile at myself because I know that in mere moments, I will witness what I have come for.

Holding the camera steady, I adjust the aperture and shutter speed and wait patiently in the sand. Sure enough, minute streams of light begin to peak just over the horizon and before long, the beach is lit up with wonderful hues of orange, pink, and yellow. A new day is almost here - and I wanted to catch the birth of it with my camera lens.

No matter how many times I see it, the morning rise of the sun takes my breath away. There is something so peaceful and joyful about watching a new day begin - hope seems to bubble over and I can take a deep, deep breath - no matter what struggles may lay ahead of me in the hectic hours that follow.

I can see clearly now - the dark is gone.

Back home again and with strong coffee producing wisps of steam from the top of my favorite "Goofy" mug, I turn on the computer. The first thing that hits me is a news ticker indicating that "the west ponders how to stop or fight a new great war". Well, THAT sure does sound encouraging.

I am then hit with the realization that there is very little I can do about this situation, and the dark that was before the day break feels as if it's creeping back in around me. But I remember something said in Romans 13; the night is nearly over, the day is almost here. That IS encouraging. And not only do those words bring comfort but what shortly follows those words reminds me to put aside deeds of darkness. I don't have to worry about World War III and the eager political beavers that rattle sabers and fume in self-serving power struggles. The one thing about which I DO need to "worry" - is the work God has put before me in whatever short time I may have left.

I know what you're thinking - surly this verse is telling each of us to focus on the light of Jesus Christ and change the behaviors within ourselves that do not glorify God. You would be right. It DOES say that. I think it also might be reminding us to don ourselves in the armor of light IN SPITE of and maybe even BECAUSE of the dark deeds performed around us. After all, the night is almost over. Jesus IS going to come back for us. We WILL be reunited with our Father. It's just a matter of time.

IN that time - dear Lord, how may I be of service for You today?

Spirit Filled

Acts 1:8 -- "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses."

In the distance across a wild field on a hot day, A.J. Gordon could see a man put some muscle behind every heave he gave an iron handle on a water pump. After several minutes passed, Reverend Gordon noticed that the man showed no signs of letting up. Fatigue seemed beyond the man and the pump handle kept moving up and down, up and down - in a rhythm that appeared to defy human strength. Curious, the Reverend closed the space between himself and this "super man", walking at a steady clip in order to discover what motivation lay behind the never-ending motion.

As Reverend Gordon approached the pump in motion, he noticed - somewhat to his surprise - that the pump master was not a man at all, but a life-size representation made of wood, paint, and jointed arms. And in fact, the pump was not being moved by the wooden man but was instead attached to an energetic and effervescent spring bubbling up into an artesian well. The water was moving the man, the man was not moving the water. This discovery brought a smile to the Reverend Gordon's lips - and he mentioned this little adventure in one of his sermons.

In Acts chapter 1 verse 8 we are clearly told that we receive power from the Holy Spirit. We don't start out with the power and it doesn't come from anything we accomplish. We are given this gift from the Holy Spirit ...but, like the wooden man in motion at the water pump, we can't keep moving unless we keep our hands on the handle.

We have all the power and direction we need - we have but to keep our hearts clinging tightly to God's Word.