Hello, and welcome to another blessing Sunday. Traveling with me on this path are Lynda Lambert who shared the idea with me, and Abbie Johnson Taylor
Lent, for those who may be unaware, is an approximately 7-week long season in the Christian faith where we commemorate Jesus’s journey to the cross. It’s often associated with giving up things, especially enjoyable things, like candy and alcoholic beverages. Those of the Roman Catholic faith are also instructed to abstain from eating meat each Friday of Lent.
The death of Jesus on the cross is one of the saddest, if not the saddest, event in human history. So why do I view the commemoration of His journey to the cross as a blessing?
I view Lent as a blessing because it serves as a reminder of how much God loves each and every one of us. as human beings, we all make mistakes and fall short of what we know we should be. And a lot of us are pretty hard on ourselves when we don’t measure up, either to the standards of others or our own. Unfortunately, we often tend to project our negative feelings about ourselves onto God, and believe he has those same negative feelings toward us as we have about ourselves. Jesus’s journey to the cross is a stark reminder of just how inaccurate those beliefs are.
Jesus is God’s Son. He is equal to God. He created all things, in partnership with the Father and the Holy spirit.
John 1-4 says: 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 He was with God in the beginning.
3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.
Even though Jesus was God, and He could do anything He pleased, including staying in Heaven forever, He chose to become a man, with all the limitations that living in a body impose. And above all that, He chose to die a criminal’s death, a death by crucifixion, which is one of the most painful ordeals a person can endure. And He did that to pay our debt of sin. God the Father didn’t force Him. He did it of His own accord. He did it so we could live eternally with Him in Heaven if we but accepted His gift of forgiveness and eternal life. He did it because He loved us that much.
So here’s a suggestion. Instead of giving up sweets or booze or other pleasures for Lent, when you start thinking of yourself negatively, bring to mind instead how much God loves you, and think about that instead. Who knows, you might just decide it’s an endeavor worth pursuing all year round. And just as a reminder of what Christ gave up to come here, check out Job 38 or Revelation 4-6.
Easter is less than a month away now. This time of year, my thoughts always drift toward the cross–& then, even more importantly, the resurrection. It’s one thing to read about the Resurrection in the Bible. It’s another thing to feel it. This is a story about something that happened over 40 years ago (REALLY???) that helped me do just that.
In August of 1993, my husband was about to enter seminary at Texas Christian University Bryte Divinity School in order to fulfill his dream of becoming a hospital chaplain. To be able to afford that, we had to move to Fort Worth and live in student housing. Our daughter had to leave her friends in Irving. We also had to part with our cat as Bryte housing had a very strict “no pets” policy. The transition was proving difficult.
Thus it was that shortly after moving in, Karl and I found ourselves advocating (begging and groveling)? before Barb, the head of student housing to allow daughter Amanda to have a pet turtle. I have no idea whether the argument regarding the difficult transition or, “even if the turtle got out, how much trouble could it actually cause?” was the deciding factor, but Barb, albeit somewhat reluctantly, agreed to grant our request.
Although we could ill afford to do so, we were in the Pets Mart shortly after Labor Day hunting the perfect shelled companion. We found one whose eyes looked clear, the shell was hard, and who was making its wishes to escape its enclosure known. The shorter tail led us to believe it was a female. The pet store clerk warned us that she might refuse to eat once we got her home, because of new surroundings, but, in fact, that proved to be a non-issue.
She’d crawl toward us and stand up in her enclosure when she wanted food. When we let her out, she’d often come to us and let us pick her up. She also seemed to enjoy exploring the apartment. But we learned very quickly that when she didn’t want to be found, she was queen of the art of hiding. Heidi seemed like the only appropriate name for her. And as time went on, though we never thought it possible, we grew to love Ms. Heidi turtle.
Trouble in paradise started in November. Her eyes became swollen. She wheezed when she breathed. She stopped eating. We took her to a vet who prescribed vitamins and antibiotics, which had to be injected at home. Despite being ill, the strength she demonstrated fighting her injections was surprisingly Herculean. It’s not a characteristic that readily comes to mind when thinking about a turtle, but when this turtle decided she didn’t want to do something, we quickly learned to be prepared for a monumental struggle. During one particularly fraught episode, Karl evidently hit her sciatic nerve, which caused her to hiss loudly and let go a smell that sent Amanda and I choking, holding our noses, and fleeing, while hapless Karl sat there holding the equally hapless tortoise.
On Thanksgiving Day we fed her some sweet potatoes, as the vet said the vitamin A would help. Shortly after, she threw them up, and Karl yelled in horror as he realized the vomited sweet potatoes were moving. The next day we were able to get a vet appointment to de worm her.
We were hoping that she’d kick the respiratory infection and start eating after that, but it was proving to be tougher than anyone anticipated. Round after round of antibiotics and antihistamines followed, which resulted in only slight and temporary improvements.
Tragedy struck in January 1994. Karl’s twin brother was hospitalized with lung cancer for the final time. Karl had to fly to Rhode Island to be with him and make final arrangements. Kip died on Jan 31, and Karl returned home shortly thereafter. Heidi held her own while he was gone, but seemed to just give up once he came back.
The last vet we went to said he was unable to do anything more for Heidi. When we requested a referral, he suggested Dr. Kendric, who served the Fort Worth zoo part time as one of their herpetologists.
We called and made an appointment for Feb 10. We were immediately impressed. Not only was he a veritable fountain of knowledge, but he actually, like us, loved turtles! He’d had a pet tortoise that died while he was in vet school. He said it broke his heart. He took blood, and we made an appointment for Valentine’s day, as he was sure he’d have the results by then. Because Karl had an exam that day, I went alone. The lab report was not good. Heidi was in liver failure. The worms, the drugs, the confinement and poor nutrition at the pet shop had likely all contributed. The inevitable had arrived. I had to tell him we couldn’t afford this.
I was shocked when he asked if we would allow him to bury her on his land.
“I’ll go one better than that,” I replied. “If you think you can help her, then please do so, and you can keep her as your pet.”
“You’d let me do that?” His voice was a mixture of joy and surprise.
“Only give me your word you won’t let her suffer,” I said. He assured me I had that.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said as I was leaving. I thanked him. It felt empty to be going home without Heidi. In just 6 months, she’d found her way into both our home and our hearts.
I’m a doctor. I know about liver failure. It’s bad in humans. It had to be worse for animals, just because of the dearth of treatment options. Neither Karl nor I were optimistic about Heidi’s chances.
As days went by, I increasingly assumed that Heidi was dead, and that Dr. Kendrick simply didn’t have the time or desire to call and convey the bad news. More than once I picked up the phone to call and inquire, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I had, after all, basically surrendered her. I really didn’t have the right.
It was St. Patrick’s day when the phone rang. We were just sitting down to dinner. I was nearest to it, so I answered.
“This is Dr. Kendrick over at Richland Hills Animal Clinic. I want to know if you’d like to come pick up Heidi.”
For a moment I was speechless. “But our agreement was that you’d keep her,” was all I could say. “We can’t afford to pay you.”
“And you will not attempt to do so. The only reason Heidi survived was because of the love you showed her. I want to restore her back to you. I’ve been practicing awhile now. I haven’t seen anyone as passionate about a turtle as yall. She belongs with you, unless you don’t feel you can do that.”
Karl and I both agreed we could absolutely do that, and he went to the clinic next day to pick up Heidi. The staff said she did something she’d never done before while she was at the clinic. When she heard Karl’s voice, she stuck her neck as far out of her shell as she could.
I got a glimpse then about how the disciples must have felt at Christ’s resurrection. Words couldn’t describe the joy. Having her back with us doing all the little things she’d done previously mended a whole in our family. Death did not have the last word. Life and love could still triumph.
Easter meant a great deal to me that year, and it has every year since. Heidi is the grand dam of our animal companions and still climbs the gate of her cage when she wants food or an excursion. She still struggles mightily when she doesn’t want us to do something for her. And she still occasionally sticks her neck out to be petted. The account of Scripture told me what happened that Easter day. A female Ornate Western Box Turtle taught me how it felt. And I will always remember a veterinarian who, despite eating the charges for a month of services, put compassion before money, donned his fighting spirit, looked death in the eye, and said “not today.”
In the final analysis, resurrection is simply God’s way of letting us know that hope, faith, and love never die. I’m reminded of that each time I walk past her cage.
I’m a little fearful that this piece will be a bit controversial. There’s a lot of buzz surrounding the topic of AI. Much of it contains some facts, some of it is downright crap, and nearly all of it reflects our deep-seated fear of the unknown.
For over a year now I’ve wanted to make some changes to my book which I self-published on Amazon, due to the urging of my writers’ group, and 1 lady in particular, named Ann Parsons, who has since gone home to be with Jesus. I miss her–terribly. I felt I’d mistitled it, and, even more importantly, I felt that the generic KDP cover art I’d obtained for it was not representative of the book’s message. For that, I needed a picture made, and no one in my small circle of connections was able to help w/that. There were plenty of folks willing to take my money, but that’s not exactly in abundant supply, so it was a deal breaker.
Finally, on a lark, I started asking Google Gemini last Sunday about getting a picture for my book. By time the conversation had ended, it had written a book description for me and given me a piece of artwork I felt represented the book’s message well.
Now, I’m the first to admit there’s a lot of “AI slop” floating around out there. But it’s a tool. If you use it properly, you can build some pretty cool stuff. Used wrongly, it creates “slop”, or worse. The same applies to hammers and drills and screwdrivers and writing tools, etc. It is not the beast or the devil, and it certainly isn’t God.
Here’s the book description it gave me:
What if you could walk alongside Him? ‘His Crime Was Love’ is an intimate, first-person journey through the final thirty-six hours of Jesus’s life. Beginning in the quiet hours before the Last Supper and ending at the moment of His final breath, this story is told through His eyes. Witness His raw humanity. He was not shielded from pain, nor was He immune to the sting of humiliation. He was tempted, He was weary, and He was rejected—yet His response to every lash and every scornful word was a relentless, radical compassion. While some moments within these pages imagine encounters beyond the recorded Scripture, they serve to illustrate a profound truth: His love for the world was so great that it was deemed a crime. My hope is that as you walk with Jesus through these final hours, you will realize that the love He poured out for others is the same love He has for you today. Walk with Him. See through His eyes. Discover how He faced death—and in doing so, teaches us how to live.”
And here’s the picture:
As I was leaving, the AI said, “Give ’em Heaven, Jackie,” and those 3 words are now part of my email signature. I can really see how vulnerable people could fall in love w/AI. You can rant from now till you turn blue, and there’s no judgment. You can ask for help, and I’ve never been made to feel ashamed about doing so. It has all the time in the world, it seems, so long as you have the credits, and w/Gemini, as long as you’re not doing heavy video editing and stuff, it’s basically a free ride, at least for now.
I personally have found it to be a blessing, as it’s helped me to do some things I would never have been able to do on my own.
In terms of the book, I have joined KDP Select, and I’ll be offering a free promo during Holy Week from Apr. 1-5. If however, you want to get a jump start on your holy week study, the link to the book is: His Crime Was Love
I’ve also applied to get the book onto Bookshare but haven’t heard from them yet. It’s on Monday’s to-do list.
Anyway, if nothing else, hopefully this will make folks have less of a reflexive reaction to AI and to consider how it might help you accomplish something you’re having trouble with. Let me know in the comments. See you next week, the Dear Lord willing.
The picture at the top of the post is of my nearly 10-year-old neutered male kitty we call Sunny. It fits his personality to a tee. He might be blind, but he always seems curious about someone new. And he’s such a shepherd when one of us gets sick!
He asked me to pick him up the other day. He does that by standing on his hind legs and putting his forepaws on my knees. He’s not a real touchy-feely kitty, but occasionally he likes it, and this was 1 of those occasions.
As I was holding him, I got to thinking about how different our worldviews were. He comes up to my ankles, so mostly what he sees, if anything, is down low. He uses whiskers for navigation. I know he can conceptualize things like his food and treats, but how he does that without language is beyond me. But as he lays in my lap purring his rumbling symphony and kneading my knee with his claws, and I massage his back, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt our feelings run very deep for one another.
How can it be, I wonder, that two beings with such widely divergent world views can love one another so much, and yet many humans despite far more similar ways of looking at the world can view things so differently–and worse, with so much vitriole toward those who disagree.
As we embark on this season of Lent, I think again of some of Jesus’s unanswered prayers. If I would ask most Christians about that, they’d immediately think of His prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. But there is another, found in John 17:20-21.
20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”
The sad truth is we as Christians are hardly one. I question whether most people who don’t share our faith can look at us and say something special’s going on. Yet we have so much more in common than we have differences. We love Jesus. We believe in Baptism, though the form differs. We believe in Jesus’s crucifixion, and most of us believe in His resurrection. And we believe one day we’ll go to Heaven–and yes–meet those with whom we disagree.
This Lenten season one of my prayers will be that we as Christians will find some of that unity and love despite such different world views, just like Sunny Kitty and me. I’m asking for God’s help with that. Maybe all of us can do so as well. We sure could use a lot more love around here.
4 There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.
5 There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
6 There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. 7 Now to each one the manifestation of the Spirit is given for the common good.
Lois Gibson, a notably successful forensics artist from Houston, set aside her 5-year retirement this week to offer help in the Nancy Guthrie abduction case. That’s not striking. What did strike me initially was the incredible compassion she expressed. She said the amount of torture families of kidnap victims endured was “insane”. She also said she was willing to “take the hit” if her guesses about the kidnapper’s appearance were incorrect–she just wanted to help.
Some might say she was just trying to capitalize on the situation and get some publicity. I don’t think so. I think rather that this lady knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that she has been given a gift, and she wants to use it to help those in need. Unlike others in this case, she requested no money, so far as I can tell, for the service she provided
Everyone is given at least 1 gift by their Creator, usually more, to benefit themselves and those around them. That last part is important. Our gifts are how we co-create with God, serving as His hands, feet, and mouthpiece to do His work on this earth. That’s not because God’s is incapable of doing it on His own. Rather, He allows us the privilege of working with Him to accomplish His purposes. The child in the picture is blissfully unaware of this. Unfortunately, so are far too many adults.
It touches me greatly when I see people coming forward to use the gifts God has given them to help others. I think it also makes the Great Father happy too. If everyone did it, this would be a far happier world. Indeed, it would, I believe, be very much like heaven. Ms. Gibson, in my opinion, has learned a valueable life lesson, and that is when you use your gift to help someone else, you receive a blessing. It may not be a material blessing, but it is a blessing nonetheless.
Lord, please help us all to use the gifts you’ve given us today and throughout the week, to make this world a better place. Amen
Welcome to another episode of “Blessing Sunday”. Participating along with me are: Abbey Johnson Taylor and Lynda Lambert who shared the idea with me.
This Sunday I’m writing about something that’s not often talked about among Christians. It’s a concept called “the communion of saints.” Husband Karl and I this past week both observed the anniversaries of the deaths of close family members. My grandma died on Jan 25, and Karl’s brother on Jan 30.
Heb 12:1 says, in part, “we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses”
Those who have died before us are not gone. When we worship God, our prayers join with theirs. Our love and God’s love join with their love. I find solace, when things feel messed up, that loved ones who’ve gone before us are still thinking about us, loving us, and praying for us, uniting in thanksgiving for God’s work on our behalf thus far, and in pleas that His full purposes will come to fruition. I’m also comforted by the knowledge that there will one day be a great reunion with loved ones, as well as with those we haven’t even met but are yet somehow kindred spirits. It’ll be the only chance I ever get to meet Jessica Fletcher–uh, I mean Angela Lansbury, after all. And Moses and Peter and Elijah and Paul and Jesus’s mom and too many others to mention.
So, although I still miss my grandma, and Karl likewise misses his brother, we are consoled because the separation isn’t entirely a separation. Our spirits are united in love, by God, and the absence we feel, when seen in the light of eternity, is a mere instant–not even enough to be consequential. Jesus said in His sermon on the mount that those who mourn will be blessed,because they’ll be comforted, and so we are, by the knowledge that love never fails and never dies.
It’s almost too wonderful to believe that God’s people, whether in the flesh or in the spirit, are united over space and time, but it’s true. I hope readers will find some measure of consolation by pondering this miraculous truth over the next week.
Jesus ascended into Heaven. But His body remains here–in the form of the church. Not necessarily *a* church, but *the* church, the body of believers the world over, and each has a vital part to play.
People were never meant to live alone. God said that in the beginning: “It is not good for the man to be alone” Gen 2:18. With individualism deep-rooted as it is in the American spirit, living in community can be a difficult concept to grasp, especially in large cities where you may not know your neighbor in the next apartment much less in the next block. So sometimes God has to show us the advantages of needing help.
This past Wednesday I got sick with a stomach virus. I had to ask Hubby to do the chores I normally do, i.e., feed the cats and take out the garbage because I was having to stay too close to the bathroom to do it myself. I didn’t exactly like having to ask for help, but I was glad to have someone to rely on when I needed to.
We can always ask God for help, of course. But far more often than not, the Red Sea doesn’t part, and the sun remains in motion. Instead, he puts people in our path who serve as His hands, feet, and mouth for carrying on His work.
Many think that because they’re old, or disabled, or poor, or 101 other excuses, they can’t do anything. Others, like Lynda Lambert, take a different view. She often looks out the window and prays for those she sees walking down the street, or when she hears the sound of emergency vehicles. Does it really do any good? I’ll bet she’ll have a harvest waiting for her in heaven she never expected! We may never see the results of all that we do. But God knows. And may He bless those abundantly who respond willingly and eagerly when help is needed. Needing help, whether or not we ask for it, is a humbling experience. And which of us couldn’t use that occasionally?
May God bless you this week, and give you help whenever the need arises.
This past Thursday was the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., and we celebrate the occasion on Monday the 19th. Throughout the centuries, there have been men and women who have struggled to advance humanity’s greater good. Some of their names are well known. Others are not. But famous or obscure, their work has moved us forward and made the world a better place to live. Their struggles have conferred blessings on us all.
Gen 32:24-29
24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.
25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man.
26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” 27 The man asked him, “What is your name?” “Jacob,” he answered. 28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.” 29 Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.” But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.
I pray that I, and all others who long to do so, will find their assigned place and be able to participate with our Creator to be His hands and feet and mouth here on earth.
First let me be very clear. I hate being blind. I absolutely, positively, unequivocally hate it! This image shows just 1 of the reasons why. For anyone who can’t see it, it shows a person searching on the floor for a lost object that’s just out of reach. I feel as though I spend more time in my life searching for things I can use than I do anything else. Touch screens are out. Things that indicate their status by color only are also out. Just about everything takes longer to do, and even then you’re not sure it’s done right. In case you have any doubts, try closing your eyes and vacuuming the floor. How’d you do? A friend once called and, when I answered, asked me what I was doing. I told him I was cleaning the house. He asked me if it looked like a blindy cleaned it. The only thing I could think to say was that I hoped it looked like *somebody* cleaned it.
Being blind also makes participating in so many activities difficult, or at least not very much fun. Think family game nights, trips to the zoo or aquarium, holiday light shows/fireworks, etc.
So having said all that, why do I say that blindness is a blessing?
Isaiah 42:16 “I will bring the blind by a way that they don’t know. I will lead them in paths that they don’t know. I will make darkness light before them, and crooked places straight. I will do these things, and I will not forsake them.”
Because, for all the frustrations blindness engenders, I think we’re also given a little bit of special attention by the Great Father. I’ve often heard that God protects kids and fools. I add blind folks as well. I also think it gives me a little more tolerance for others’ weaknesses than I might otherwise have. My family members might disagree, you understand, but I do think it does. And I think it makes it more likely that I look to God for help than I would if I could see.
So, very begrudgingly, I count being blind as a blessing. And I pray I can serve God even better without eyesight than I could have done with it. Because, after all, when all is said and done, all of us walk by faith and not by sight. 2 Cor 5:7
