SelahV Today by hariette petersen

IT'S HARD TO BE A ROSE

5:00 a.m.~~My quiet time with the Lord, today.

Thunder crashed and split the night with drumrolls of God's power.  I love thunderstorms.  I lay in the dark listening in awe of the Lord and His might.  Torrents of rain pounded against the ground.  It was indeed awesome.

I thought about the gardening I wouldn't be able to do today; saturated soil does not turn over.  I wondered if the sun would shine at all.  Not that it mattered, that was entirely up to the Lord to do as He so pleased.  I read a scripture with my devotional today.  The last few days I've felt the pummeling of my spirit, the beating of the rain against my best efforts to be what the Lord wants me to be.  At times I've felt like Elijah under the juniper tree--refreshed by the Lord's provision, then depressed with His revision in my life. 

"Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain..." (James 5:17.  For three and a half years the earth was without rain because God honored Elijah's prayer.  "Then he prayed again, and the sky poured forth rain and the earth produced its fruit." (18.

I wondered.  As torrents of rain pummeled my garden, would there be a rose left clinging to the bush?

Later in the misty gray morning I ventured out to delight in this rain-kissed rose.  It had barely opened its tightly formed bud from yesterday.  I love the little droplets of water resting on its soft coral petals, don't you?  It makes me think of refreshment and God's sustaining grace.

I sat on my backporch most of the afternoon drinking in the warmth of the sun, sipping coffee and reading.  Far better than housework, blogging, or bookkeeping.  Lulled to sleep by the mating calls of cardinals and doves, I slept two hours till awakened by the buzz of cicadas in the branches of my pecan trees.  It was glorious.

The sun had warmed the earth and the grass was damp but not soaking.  I weeded the rosebed and noticed the rose I'd taken a picture of that morning was now huge.  So effortlessly it had opened to the sun in a splendorous display of beauty and grace.  What work did it do to produce itself, I thought.  I recalled a verse I'd focused on in the Bible study I taught last evening at church.

"It is God Who works in you to will and to act according to His purpose." (Philippians 2:13.

"It is God who works" in me--not I in me.  It's not my efforts that produce the will or the act or the outcome of His purpose.  Oh, my efforts and my will may produce a pre-planned purpose of my own making and choosing, but for God's purpose, it is He Who is working in me to bring about His purpose.  That rosebud opened and displayed its splendor without one bit of help from me.  Yet it fulfilled its God-given purpose to be a rose.  And all it did was rest in God's care and provision.

The beauty in that thought is that I can rest in Him to bring about His purpose for my life.  As I open my face to His Son and drink in the refreshment of His Spirit.  It rains on the rich and the poor.  "But blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:3.

In the weakness of my spirit, God's strength is made perfect.  In my inadequacy to meet a task is God's adequacy to fulfill it.  In my faithlessness is God's faithfulness.  In my brokenness is God's sustaining grace and restoration.  Sometimes it's hard to rest in the Lord and let Him have His way with me.  Sometimes it's plain hard to be a rose.  [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007] 

WHERE THISTLES GROW

I use to love the month of May.

I loved the promise of near-perfect temperatures--irises and daisies popping up from the ground, standing at attention or swaying with ease in the breeze.  That changed in 2005.  Now, it's a love~hate relationship I have with May.  When I get past Mother's Day, the days which follow are filled with horrific memories of battles I endured for months upon months.  I could never publicize or begin to share the events, situations and circumstances with you here.

Depression settles in about this time and I have to constantly be looking to the Lord (not that I don't already), for strength to get me through till August--my son's birthday.  Then more "bad" memories sow seeds of heartache in my mind.  I do my level best to root them out and transplant others--better, more positive ones.  But it's not easy, folks.  It really isn't.  I dwell on every single solitary thing of purity, goodness and love...but there's some crack inside my brain or some vulnerable emotion that allows satan entrance.

It's been two years.  Will it be this way a year from now?  For some reason as May approaches this year I find myself wanting to run away...far away...to some place I've never been where there is nothing to remind me of things I've already experienced.  Wonder where that place could be.  I've never been to England, Iceland or for that matter, Savannah, Georgia.  I don't really think it would matter much if I ran away; memories have a way of following me around.

I truly wish I could bring every thought into the captivity of Christ.  I wish He could magically put all good things inside my head and crowd out all the bad.  Kinda like growing so much grass seed that it wipes out crabgrass, ya know?  Am I the only Christian who struggles with this problem?

I wish I could jerk those thoughts from my mind as easily as I do the thistles in my back yard.  I wish.  Unfortunately, every time I dug those prickly-leafed weeds from my lawn, another sprouts somewhere else.  My feathered friends carry those seeds everywhere.  The wind moves them from field to field--neighbor to neighbor.  In some states it's against the law for them to grow into seed-bearing heights.  They grow upwards of 4 and 5 feet if not mowed down, dug up or poisoned.  And in their gangly maturity, they give ugly a new meaning.  Except.

Except for the puff of glorious purple that pokes its lovely head from the cradle of spiny leaves.  It's blossom is gorgeous and is so soft to touch.  So unlike the thorny stem and jagged leaves which hold it tightly in its grasp.  Even thistles have their kinder, gentler, softer side.  And though they cause great aggravation and distress, they also provide a sweetness that belies their character--nectar for busy bees to gather and exchange for honey.

Perhaps that's the reason for the harsh memories that invade the garden of my mind.  In each is a bit of nectar to be transformed into honey once the gathering is over.  I hope so anyway.

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

GOD MAY NOT LOVE ME ANY MORE

BUT HE DOES NOT LOVE ME ANY LESS.

He created His best for me when He spoke the world into being.  He gave His Best for me when He sent His only begotten Son to die in my place.  He gave me victory over death through the resurrection of His Son and grants me enough hope for each day to carry me into tomorrow.

God loves me enough to share Himself with me in the person of His Holy Spirit till I go home to live with Him eternally.  He manifests Himself to me in multiple ways--through His Word, His people and His sovereign will.  He teaches, counsels, comforts and convicts me.  He will never ever leave me, nor forsake me.

I can trust Him completely and spend as much time with Him as I want.  I don't have to sit in a waiting room, have a frontrow ticket, or pay one dime to draw near to His throne of grace.  He lives with me and I with Him.  And someday when I die, He will give me a new body and I will be able to worship Him with all the holiness He deserves in a place He's preparing just for me.

He knows everything about me and still loves me anyway.  God may not love me any more than He did the day He came up with the idea to create me--but I truly believe He loves me no less than then.

He loves me with all He is.  He is my Shepherd and I do want.  I want more~~more of Him.  More of Him for me, and more of Him for you.

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]    

A PINCH OF SALT

Sometimes I'd just like to disappear.  Not die.  Just become invisible.  And not in such a way that I'm not useful.  No, I'd like to be just so deep in the shadows of life that the only one who knew anything about whatever good I did was Jesus, Himself. 

Like a pinch of salt that flavors an omelet or dissolves in a teaspoon of water.  It's there, but unseen.

Perhaps it is because I fear getting a "big-head" as my stepmother use to caution whenever anyone gave me the least amount of praise.  "Don't you go gettin' a big-head over that, now!"  It still echoes in my mind.

Mama made sure praise was well-balanced with criticism.  Just in case.  I suppose she felt it necessary to prevent even an inkling of pride to invade my soul.  I don't know.  I never asked her why she criticized me so much as a child.  I do know from her persistent disapproval of everything from the way I shuffled my feet to the way I scrubbed the oak-plank floors, left its mark on me.  However...

I think it was a good thing.  One thing is that I've learned to take criticism "with a grain of salt".  It's not the all to end all of who I am.

As a child I never thought I'd "amount to anything".  I thought I was the "lazy, stupid, ignorant, hateful, deceitful, good-for-nothing spawn of a woman straight out of hell" that Mama said I was.

But what Mama meant for evil (or in her warped mind for good with her tirades and rants), the Lord used for good.  Today I am able to spot unwarranted criticism immediately.  It can be cloaked in an apology, an attempt to clarify, or a subtle remark.  It can be a blatant attack or a satirical remark.  It can be clothed in sarcasm or flattery.  It can be audible or written--sly or unabashed.  It can be condescending or patronizing.  But I know it when I hear it or see it.

And I don't like it.

It brings all kinds of icky feelings to the surface of my heart and shouts denials in my mind.  And from those feelings I feel compelled to champion all those criticized in life.  And that is a good thing.

But back to my desire to disappear.  I think sometimes that I fear what fuels me to do good is an unsated need for the approval and validation I was deprived of as a child.  Therefore, I feed on another's compliments.  Yet, when I receive a compliment or validation, I tend to rebel against it, distrust it, and have a very hard time accepting it.

Lately I've considered that disappearing and being invisible is totally inconsistent with what Jesus wants from me.  Even though we must decrease so He can increase, He says, "Let your light so shine before men that your Father in Heaven is glorified."  And my Light is His Light--not mine.  He is the beam, I am the bulb.  He is the fire, I am the wick.

Understanding that I, of myself alone, cannot do anything without  Jesus, has given me another perspective on life.  It is okay to accept another's validation as a blessing.  It's as if God, Himself, is saying your candle is not hidden, My child.  Keep it up, lift It high.  And that is how I accept praise today, with far more than a grain of Salt.  It all belongs to Him, after all.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007] 

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

Ever had one of those days?

When everything annoys you?  When you feel as though you can't get anything done?   When procrastination seems like a lifestyle worthy of pursuit?  Life has no flavor?   And the most you can hope for is that you don't have any bills in the mailbox?  My day started out like that today.  Pity me.

I posted a blog in GRIEF MATTERS.  Then I proceeded to make a liar out of myself for having written what I did.  I wanted to crawl back into bed and cover my head.  I didn't care if the sun shined, the earth quaked or the computer crashed.

Instead, I had a quiet time reading from Second Timothy.  Silence was deafening from the quietness of my moments with the Lord.

So I commented on a couple of blogs I'd found recently that I liked to visit.  I posted a new Blog Review I thought others might enjoy reading.  And I tried to post a blog here, on SelahV Today, but nothing came to my mind.  I drew a blank.

I was sipping my lukewarm morning coffee (disgusting in itself) and surveying my home...specifically my living room, dining room and kitchen.  I thought what a mess everything was.  Tell-tale signs of our trip this weekend rested on the floor.  Suitcase, dirty laundry, unpacked snack-bags.  The dog had tracked in dried leaves this morning and shoes were at the front door.  Along with those things, last week's dust lay mocking me on tables, chests and television screens.

I'd spent most of my time last week reading blogs, writing blogs, babysitting, weeding and gardening.  I ran errands, filed an income tax extension and ignored housework.  Now, I considered all the things demanding my attention.  Nothing was appealing about any of it.

I thought about the laundry.  Tomorrow~~I'll get to that tomorrow.  Last night's dirty dishes shouted from the sink.  For some reason it seemed like I'd left five-days worth, when in reality there was only a pot, a couple of bowls, and a mug or two.  On one-of-those-days, little annoyances seem much bigger.  Molehills become mountains.

Then I got a call.  Escape!  I can leave it all behind.  I went to play with my granddaughters so my daughter could do her bookkeeping.  However, as it turned out, she was able to go out to lunch with her husband.  Uninterrupted.  To me, that was one of the greatest things that happened today.  Then there were the giggles and smiles that poured forth from HayJae as we played ball, made a rainbow from strips of multi-colored paper, and pasted petals on her imaginary garden.

Later, we took a nap together.  Bliss.  Another escape.  I awoke refreshed, ready to tackle the world.  I came home and went through my house like ants at a picnic.

I went out and picked daisies from my flower garden.  A fresh bouquet for the dust-free dining room table, the hall chest and bathroom window-sill.  I filled the birdfeeders, then settled into my chair to watch the sparrows spook the cardinals.  Doves gathered beneath the feeders and picked at seeds strewn on the ground.

     I took some pictures of a Peace Rose I'd been patiently waiting to see bloom.  It's blooming today was one of those God-things.  It was a gentle assurance that someone I'd been praying for would be okay.

It wasn't till just a few minutes ago I realized one-of-those-days had melted into one filled with accomplishment, blessing and provision.  Nothing had changed from start to finish.  No great miracles.  No parades, or fan-fare.  Just an ordinary day, with ordinary things, ending in an ordinary way.  Like most every other day.  And through it all I prayed.

I prayed for a friend whose husband was going through a trying time at work.  I prayed for the parents of students in Virginia.  I prayed for Maggi, a mother of 4 boys, whose life was hanging by a thread.  I prayed for the Iraqi people.  I prayed for the families who were going to learn their father, brother, son had died in the roadside bombing in Iraq.  I prayed for a friend in Kentucky who was going through a tough time.

And I recalled the scripture I'd been reading this morning at 5:00 a.m.  "In a large house there are articles not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for noble purposes, and some for ignoble. If a man cleanses himself from the latter, he will be an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work." II Tim. 2:20,21.

Much of my home--and my temple--is made up of things ignoble, worthless stuff.  But some of what I have is gold and silver.  When I cleanse myself of me and focus on others and the positive, and use the noble for the Lord, I become an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, and useful to the Master.  And then ordinary becomes extraordinary for someone else to have a better than ordinary day.  If not today, then one-of-these-days.

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]   

DO YOU KNOW A KNOW-IT-ALL?

I THINK I DO.

I've met several in my lifetime.  And they are never wrong.  It's funny now that I think about it.  I'd love to get all those know-it-alls in the same room and listen to them converse with each other, then have them all vote on the person whom they thought really knew it all!

One time I knew this person who not only knew everything, but could top any experience--good or bad--that I ever had with one worse or better.  I got so I just couldn't stand being around that person.  I couldn't carry on any normal kind of conversation with them at all.  Looking back I can see just how lonely they were--always exaggerating.  Needing attention for who they were (or rather what they really thought they weren't.)

Then there are those folks who know everything there is to know about health matters. They can tell you how to prevent everything from cancer to the common cold.  Yet, no one will listen to them.  If they would, then we wouldn't need chemo, radiation, aspirins or antihistamines.  Pity us.

Then there's that political party that knows exactly what's wrong with this country and how to fix everything.  And just as soon as they get voted in to do the fixin' they discover things are so messed up by their predecessor that there is no fixin' stuff.  Or there's just too many folks in Congress that don't wanna work with them so they can fix stuff like they got voted in to do.  It's one of those which came first the elephant or donkey.

Then there are some theologians who have all things all worked out and can tell you exactly how God designed the world to be yesterday, today and tomorrow.  But when you begin to question them, they seem to have more questions than answers.  Or they turn everything around and answer questions with sentence censoring and paragraph twisting.  They take each and every word and dissect it, interpret it and translate it to mean something entirely different than you said you meant it.  And they assume they know for a fact what your motive and intent is by the mere question itself.  And they conclude you are too ignorant to understand, too lazy to study, or too obtuse and stubborn to hear.

Know what I like about simple people?  Real bonafide sincerely simple people?  They are humble.  They know they don't know.  They do not have one pretentious bone in their body.  They have zero guile.  NONE.  They are full of questions.  And most of their questions are the most thought-provoking simple questions you'd ever want to consider. That is, if one is not given to being right about every single solidarity thing that has occurred, is occurring or will occur in the future.  But if one already has all the answers to all the questions, they find no pleasure in people with ignorant questions.

I think simple people are simply childlike.  And such is the kingdom of heaven.  Heaven's gonna be made up of childlike folks.  I'm glad.  Because I think that's where I will be.  In the meadows, stringing dandelions and clover necklaces.  Watching twelve bees work for a year gathering nectar to make my teaspoon of honey.  Dancing in fields of daisies and picking roses without thorns.  And all the know-it-alls will be sitting aloft on their pedastals of knowledge and wisdom watching all us simple folk basking in the morning dew and all-day sunshine.

Won't it be bliss?  I think so.  We will get to drink at the cool bubbling Fountain of Life where we will be filled with satisfaction forever.  Totally content.   For "blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." Mt. 5:6.  That's a whole bunch different than hungering and thirsting after right-ness, don't you think?  I do, but then again, I don't know it all.  selahV [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

 

   

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING...

I WAS DREAMING.

Darkness still claimed the morning.  I couldn't see him, but he was there.  I heard him. "Who, who, who."  I wanted to answer but he wouldn't have listened.  After all, he's just an owl.

Who, indeed!  Who is up at 4 a.m. and quite happy to be up?

Anticipation filled my thoughts.  What will the day bring, Lord?  What joy immeasurable is in store for me?  What grace will I receive sufficient to meet the need of my circumstances?  What direction will I hear whispered behind my right ear?  I'm so excited.  Life.  It's so unpredictable!

Not that I don't have plans.  I do.  I plan to plant my last marigolds in the garden to get a headstart on the tomato plants that will come later.  I plan to pack a case for an overnight trip to Bartlesville for a state motocross competition.  I plan to go to Bartlesville and meet up with my family.  I plan to spend the night.  I plan to take pictures and bite my cheek, hold my breath and pray as I watch my grandsons catapult into the air over jumps at 60 mph.  I plan to have as much fun watching as they have racing.

But no matter what plans I have, I know the Lord has plans with my plans.  And I am more excited about His plans for mine.  The unpredictable always intersects with my life.  And I love it!  Do you?

Last year I tossed a packet of flower seeds in one of my garden beds.  This year they came up.  I have absolutely no idea what splendor will pop out of those feathery stems and leaves. But I do see a teeny bit of dark purple at the tip.  So it is probably going to be a brilliant blue or soft violet hue.  As the blossom sleeps all cuddled up inside the covering of that bud, I dream of cascades of color--nectar for honey bees and butterflies.  Provision.

I dream of goodness, abundance and joy.

I dream of laughter, giggles and smiles.

I dream of blossoms, petals and pictures.  I dream of basking in the sun in my blowup pool with my 2 year-old HayJae come June.  I dream of the succulent tomatoes, and crisp cucumbers growing along my fenceline.

And while you sleep, I rest in the dreams I have because God is the Author of my life.  And I can trust Him to take my dreams and make them better than I could ever imagine.  selahV [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007] 

NO ALTAR CALL NEEDED

 

She's only five years old.  But she's already saying she loves Jesus and Jesus loves her.  Should I correct her and tell her we'll have to wait and see?

I don't think so.

Do I have some inside source for knowing the names in the Book of Life?  Not hardly.

Today I got to have lunch with my granddaughters.  It's always special.  Today was no exception.  After lunch, we returned to Abby's classroom and I got to watch her cut out items that went into various groups and glue them to the corresponding topics on a piece of paper.  Afterwards, while the teacher helped slower students, the children came to me and showed me their papers.  I was to check to see if all the clothing, food and shelter items were in the right spaces.  It was pure joy.

Some kids hugged me when I told them they could put their work in their cubbyholes.  Some asked me my name...again.  One little girl, Alana, handed me her paper and as I was scanning it, she announced, "I'm a Christian!"  A bit startled by her profession, I stopped looking at her paper and smiled.  (Honestly, I wondered for a second if I should even acknowledge what she'd just professed.  We were in a public school, after all.)  Her eyes were sparkling like a child who'd just been surprised at a birthday party.  Her face beamed and she grinned from ear to ear.  I took a chance.

"You are?  How wonderful!"

"Yes, I am.  I started going to church a while back."

"You did?"

"Yes; and now I'm a Christian.  It is a Baptist Church."

"Well, Alana, I'm very happy for you.  I'm a Christian, too."  I handed her paper to her to put in her cubby; she returned to her seat, and I considered a few things.

Wonder why she felt led to share that she was a Christian with me.  Wonder why at that very moment, in that room while I was checking papers, she was one who had me check her paper and then felt it necessary to share that bit of news.  I didn't know this child.

Whenever I went to visit Abby in school, I often read a book and watched them make something that corresponded with the book.  But my attention usually centered upon Abby--the other children in passing.  I could only tell you one other child's name in the whole class.

Yet, there in the middle of her kindergarten classroom addressing a complete stranger to herself, a child felt led to express her belief that she was a Christian.  Why me?  Why then?  Why her?  I considered my Savior's words to me:  "Let the little children come unto me and forbid them not."  Who was I to argue?

Should I have taken time to figure out just how she came to that conclusion?  Should I have asked if she understood the Sovereignty of God or whether she agreed with Limited Attonement?  I don't think so.

Alana, came with the most innocent profession I've heard in my 30-plus years as Christian.  She didn't walk down an aisle.  She didn't have someone telling her she was going to hell.  She didn't have a prolonged chorus being sung in her tender ears.  Nope.  She was standing in line to have her kindergarten paper checked in the middle of a state-run public school classroom.  No one had mentioned God, Jesus or church.  Yet here she was in her brown-eyed beauty announcing, "I'm a Christian!"

No altar call was needed today.  And to be clear, I'm not saying that Alana didn't give her life to Jesus at an altar in that Baptist Church she is attending.  But I am saying, something had already happened in that child's life.  And I'd call that something, Someone named Jesus.  And Jesus thought it very important that she tell me.  And I thought it most important that I tell you.

Isn't this a blessing?  Isn't this wonderful?  Isn't God good? [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

WHAT'S BLACK AND WHITE WITH FLASHES OF BLUE?

AN OKLAHOMA HIGHWAY PATROLMAN BEHIND ME TODAY.

I didn't think he planned on stopping me.  I was wrong.  I saw the flashing lights just as I ended the road construction and moved into the righthand lane.  "Oh, my gosh.  Was it when I sped up after I saw him behind me so close.  When I was trying to fix the cruise?"  I pulled over and got out my driver's license.  I knew what was coming.  Sorta.

He appeared at the window and I opened the one behind me.  It was my daughter's car and I didn't know which was which.  The officer looked at me like I was drunk.  "I stopped you for several reasons."

Several reasons?  "What?  What did I do?"

"For starters, changing lanes without a blinker."  Now I thought he was drunk.  There was only one lane.  The other was blocked off by orange and white barrels.  Why would I need to signal when there was only one lane?

"What do you mean?"

"When you pulled over to the right you didn't signal.  Then when you stopped you didn't signal."  What was he talking about.  There was no one behind me but him.  And the lane was closed on the other side.  I was confused.

"You mean I should have signaled that I was moving out of your way and onto the side of the road?"  I thought, this is wacko, but then he's the boss.  He's the authority, not me.

"Yes, anytime you change lanes you have to signal." I knew that but this was a futile argument.  "And you also almost hit one of those barrels back there.  And when you sped up, I clocked you at 71 miles an hour."  Okay.  Wait a minute.  This is nuts.  I just fell off a turnip truck.

"No way!"  He looked at me like I'd smacked his face.  Time to back off.  "Look, this is my daughter's car.  I'm not familiar with all the gadgets on it.  I was trying to set the cruise when I saw you behind me.  I didn't even know you were a police officer.  I can't figure it out.  I looked up and saw the barrel.  I'm on my way to Texas to have lunch with my granddaughters and now I'm going to be late."  I started to cry.  Real, genuine, frustrated, sincere tears.  "Look, officer.  I'm sorry.  No excuses.  Whatever you said I did, I'm sure I did.  I'm sorry."  I sniffed my nose which was now dripping.  "I need to go."

"I need your license and proof of insurance."  I handed him the license.

"I have no idea where the insurance card is.  This is my daughter's car."

"I'm gonna go back to my car with this and you look for the insurance card."

He left and I looked for a tissue.  My nose was running.  I looked at my watch.  I was going to be late and miss my youngest granddaughter's lunchtime.  Tears came stronger.  Silly, I know.  But I hadn't seen her in over a month and she was going to be really disappointed if I showed up to see her elder sister for lunch and didn't come eat with her, too.  My mind raced.  Maybe I'll just turn around and go home.  I'm over 45 minutes away and right now I have exactly 51 minutes to get there.

The officer came back to the window.  I gave him the insurance card I found in the console.  He handed it back and gruffed, "This is expired."  Great!  Just what I needed.  An expired card.  "Tell your daughter she needs to put the new one in the car."

Tell my daughter?  Is he kidding?  I'm not going to tell my daughter I got pulled over by the police and he said I was going 71 miles an hour in a 55 mile an hour zone and I almost hit a barrel!!!  Is he nuts?!!

"Oh, and you need to tell your daughter that she has a commercial tag on her vehicle."  Well, duh.  Of course it's a commercial tag.  They use it for my son's-in-law construction business.  I got to use it today because my van is a dilapitated piece of junk with no exhaust system, no airconditioning, a bad battery and leaking shocks.  Right at that moment, I wished I was sitting in my 1994 Chevy Astro in all its dilapitated glory.  This wouldn't have happened had I been in it.  I KNOW my car. "Yes, it's a commercial tag, so it needs the name of the business on the side or bold black identification lettering."  Whatever; just give me the ticket, I looked at my watch.

He must have read my mind. "I need you to sign here.  I'm giving you a warning."  How in the world did I get a warning?  With all the laws I'd broken, he should have been hauling me off to the pokey.  I didn't argue.

"Thank you, officer.  I'm sorry.  I know the majority of accidents are caused by inattention."

"And speed, and failure to signal, or stop and alcohol."

"Well, at least I don't drink."  He smiled.

"Have a nice day, maam.  And drive safely."  I looked at my watch.  I now had 40 minutes to travel 45 minutes.  I've never been so tempted in all my life to set the cruise for 6 miles above the speed limit.  But I didn't. 

As I cruised along Highway 44 on my way to Texas, I pondered what had just occurred.  Unknowingly, I had broken laws.  I may have had some good excuses--but they weren't good reasons.  I did it and I deserved a ticket.  I still can't believe I sped up to 71 mph while trying to figure out how to set the cruise at 55 mph.  But isn't that funny?  I'm so conscientious of going the speed limit that I speed trying to ensure I stay within the limit?  Only me.  My tears began to dry.  I was going to be late.  I would miss over half of Abby's lunch time, but I would at least be able to see her.

I took a deep breath.  Bright green rolling plains begged my vision.  New mown hay lay in orderly yellow piles where it had been freshly cut.  I could smell it.      

A brilliant display of blue flowers lined the highway and seemed to climb the embankments.  Oklahoma's vivid orange Indian Blanket patched the ground in between the blue.  Three-foot sprays of yellow flowers swayed in the ditch and along barbwired fencelines.  A herd of cattle dotted pastures resembling mixed nuts all sprinkled on the green grass.  A group of palaminos grazed with little foals.   Peace cleared the cobwebs of frustration from my mind.

"Thank you, Lord.  It could have been worse.  I could have hit another car.  I could have totaled my daughter's vehicle.  The officer could have given me a ticket I couldn't afford.  Thank you, for his mercy and Yours, Lord." [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]   

THAT'S NOT JESUS!

Today HayJae and I were sitting in her daddy's recliner looking through a Christian bookstore circular.  She was picking out shapes, colors and flowers.  I asked, "Where's the heart?"

"There it is!" she pointed.

"Where's Jesus?"

She snapped her head around and looked at me like I'd lost my mind.  I pointed to the photograph of Jesus pictured on the front cover of a book.

She looked at that picture and admonished me.

"That's not Jesus!  Jesus is the book!"

HayJae knows that her little New Testament is the book about Jesus.  She had just opened it about an hour before and read me a story.  Over and over again she recited, "Jesus come to my house.  Jesus come to my house."  Then it was, "Jesus loves me.  Jesus loves me."

HayJae looked up at me with her uniquely colored honey-green eyes, pointed back at the photo in the sales circular, and said, "That's not Jesus, Grama!  Jesus is the Book."

I squeezed HayJae close and hugged her tightly.  "Yes, baby!  You're right Jesus is the Book.  He sure is!"

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." John 1:1.

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007] 

SWEETER THAN HONEY...

A SPOONFUL OF HONEY.  Golden, thick, sweet. Its sticky ooze slowly flows from my spoon and deliberately sweetens my tea.

I love honey.  I do not like sugar or sugar substitutes.  My hot rasberry tea is a soothing beverage for erasing the cares of the world.  Recently I discovered something that makes it all the more soothing for body, mind and spirit.

Did you know that it takes twelve bees--one dozen--working one year to collect enough nectar to make one--that is ONE--teaspoon of honey?  Isn't that amazing?  Talk about busy as a bee!

All these years I have taken for granted the work that went into producing my condiment for my tea.  How much more appreciative I am today upon learning this fact.  As I sip my steaming tea today, I consider how great God is that He would tend to thousands of bees every season in order that I enjoy the sweetness of life's nectar.  Now, some of you might be saying, "It's a teaspoon of honey, for crying out loud!  What's the big deal?"

But it's more, much more.  A teaspoon of honey is diligence.  It's persistence.  It's sacrifice.  It's seeking the positive of a weed's blossom and transforming it into soothing sweetness.

A deeper appreciation I have of the Promised Land for the nation of Israel.  "A land flowing with milk and honey."  Flowing--abundant, pouring out, a moving blessing.  Millions upon millions of flowers to produce the honey to feed a nation.  Millions upon millions of bees to gather the nectar to provide the honey.  And this was the promise of God.  Provision, abundance.  Watchcare.  Righteous judgements.

"..the judgements of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.  More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb." Psalm 19:9b,10.[emphasis mine] 

The judgements of the Lord--sweeter than honey.  Constrain me not to follow my own.  selahV

YOU MAY LIKE THIS POST, TOO... WINDY, WILD AND A CHANCE OF WARMTH 

I DON'T LIKE EVERYONE

I can't help myself.  I don't like everyone.  I need to know...am I alone?

I try my best to look for the good that is in others and many times I find far more good in non-Christians than I do in those professing to be Christians.  Some people are just bent on seeing the negative of every situation.  Some read a book just to find something they disagree with.  Some look at white and call it black.  And I swear if I put a huge black square on this screen and said it was black, there are some who would tell me it is charcoal or tinted navy.

So what does a person do when they don't like someone?  I don't know what you do, but I find myself praying for that person a whole bunch.  I find myself asking God to bless them and care for them and give them wisdom.  I pray for Jesus to fill them with the fruit of His Holy Spirit.

I wonder if He does that and then they pour out their goodness, gentleness, kindness, patience, love, joy, peace and self-control someplace else.  Cause I sure don't see any fruit coming from some of them.  Oh well, it really doesn't matter.  Today is over and I'm going to bed.  Tomorrow is a new day and the Lord will fill my day with cardinals and sparrows waiting expectingly at the back door for breakfast.  I get to play with HayJae and Kinsey all day while my daughter runs errands and does bookwork.

So, I'll just leave those prunes for another day--they just aren't worth chewing on today.

AS TUMBLEWEED BLOWS

BLOW WIND, BLOW.

TAKE ME AWAY 

BREATHE ON MY HEART

THE BREATH OF YOUR WAY.

Uprooted weeds blow and tumble across the plains of life.   So is my emptiness and fruitless devotion.  Separate now the chaff from the wheat and sow the seeds of Your mercy and grace.

"Thus says the Lord God: come from the four winds, O breath and spirit, and breathe upon these slain that they may live." {Ez.37:9.

So much of what I do in any given day means so little in the realm of purpose and meaning.  So much gives back nothing to the furtherance of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  I toy with moments and waste time every hour in the day.   

I shop for beans and bread and consider which is a better value for the money.  I organize clothes in a closet I will probably never wear.  I purchase a vase to hold the daisies growing in my yard, when a mason jar would do just as well.  I watch the current bad news on television when I could be reading more of the Good News in God's inspired Word. 

My pleasure is not pleasure at day's end~~what purpose did my words serve?  What fruit is harvested from the seeds of my thoughts?  What gain is met by time I've spent?

I sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. {Hosea 8:7.  The four winds blow to breathe upon my dead works and uselessness.  What seeds can grow in the wastelands of my thoughts when all I cultivate is pessimism and negativity in the garden of my mind?

Blow Wind blow...bring upon my mind tornadic spirals of turbulence and rip the things I cling to from my grasp.  Take from me all unnecessary treasures that will only burn away.  Bring with Your cleansing Wind the Spirit of Your will and plant within me the seeds of faith, hope and love.  selahV [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]     

YOU CAN'T TAP-DANCE IN COMBAT BOOTS

 

OR CAN YOU?

Ever had an occasion to chat with someone about issues of vital importance of the Lord?  You know--Jesus, Heaven, Hell?  Doorways to each and the consequences of opening the wrong door or walking through the right one?

I have.  I've danced with Mormons.  Jehovah's Witnesses.  Atheists.  Agnostics.  Church of Christ.  Catholics.  And also fellow Baptists.  Oddly enough, the people most difficult to dance with are fellow Baptists.  Isn't that odd?

We're all suppose to be listening to the same music, have the same melody, following the same beat, memorized the same lyrics and yet we find ourselves off-pitch and dancing to music with only one harmonious Note of Significance--Jesus is Lord.  Heaven is for Sheep and Hell is for Goats.

Wonder why, in light of that harmony, so many folks are falling through cracks in the dancehall floorboards.  Wonder why we're always stepping on someone's toes.  Wonder why someone's always taking the lead instead of following the lead.  Wonder why folks who know how to lead tend to follow a lead.

Wonder why we don't just stand still in our combat boots instead of tap-dancing around to the devil's tunes.

Ephesians 6 says: "Therefore put on God's complete armor, that you will be able to resist and STAND your ground on the evil day [of danger], and, having done all [the crisis demands], to STAND [firmly in your place].  STAND therefore..." {13,14a Amplified. emphasis mine

STAND.

That's it.  No dancing in circles or following man's ideas or ideology.  Just stand.  When the music starts, we stand.  When the beat begins, we stand.  When the crescendos rise, we stand.  When the lyrics challenge and the chorus repeats, we stand.  Let the world's bands play on.  Let the music change.  Let the lyrics be rewritten.  Let the drummer's pound a different beat.  But let us STAND--on what is necessary, basic, and True.

"And having shod your feet in preparation [to face the enemy with the firm-footed stability, the promptness, and the readiness produce by the GOOD NEWS] of the Gospel of peace."{15. Amplified. emphasis mine

I wonder why we Baptists dance to the devil's tune of discord, division and strife.  Why do we bow and bend to his lead and let him trample on our toes.  Why do we get caught up in his music and wiggle and giggle to his deceitful lyrics of confusion.  Why is his rhythm so much more melodious than the melody of our Savior's voice of gentleness, peace, kindness and love?  I wonder.

Perhaps we do need combat boots to dance.  To protect us from the slithering snakebites of poisonous egos and pride.  The only protection a Christian has is his preparedness--the preparedness of saving faith in the salvation of a risen Lord who sacrificed Himself as the perfect unspotted unblemished Lamb.  Who became sin--our sin--to attone for our sin.  And should we need a defender of that faith, we have our Sword wielded by the Holy Spirit of God which slices all arguments to slivers with His Word.  Oh that we would heed the call to "pray at all times" instead of speaking at all times.

If you wonder where I am in the midst of the frey of controversies within our convention of Baptist believers, you'll find me "standing" in the center of the dancefloor.  My eyes are closed to the sway of dancers around me.  My ears hear only the sweet melodious lyrics being sung by the Master and my feet tap to the tune of the song of Victory written many years ago.  I am no wallflower.

But, whichever ball my Prince invites me to to attend, I won't be wearing glass slippers.  Nope.  I'm already fitted with a steel-toed pair of boots.  selahV [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

THE BLESSING OF LOSS

IT IS WRITTEN:

"In the year King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord."

In the year my son Chad died, I saw the Lord.

I saw the Lord clearer and greater and mightier than I've seen Him in my 50-plus years.  As a broken vessel, poured out and completely empty, I saw God.  I heard God.  And I felt God.

Oswald Chambers writes in MY UTMOST FOR HIS HIGHEST:

"Our soul's personal history with God is often an account of the death of our heroes.  Over and over again God has to remove our friends to put Himself in their place...".  [Chad was one of my dearest, closest friends.  He was much, much more than a son.]

Throughout my life I've found an enormity of truth in what Oswald Chambers writes.  However, I'll go one step further.  Anytime we put any one person, thing, or even ministry above God, He removes that person, thing or ministry.

Oswald writes of losing that friend,"...that is when we falter, fail, and become discouraged."

It doesn't have to be that way.  If a Christian loves the Lord and seeks after Him and some person or thing is taking away even an inkling of the importance God has to His child's life, God will step in and remove that thing to bring His child back to Him and keep His child on track.  I call this a blessed intervention.  Our loss can be His gain--and ultimately, our gain if we do not rebel against it.

My little granddaughter is a gregarious, precocious little toddler.  She wanders away all the time at church.  You know that time of fellowshiping that occurs after worship. Basically a safe space, right?

Well, in this day and age, ya don't need to get too relaxed in any environment.  After all, newborn babies are taken from mothers in hospitals on a regular basis.  So what's to stop a predator from entering the sanctuary of sanctuaries and walking out with a wandering friendly little two-year-old?  Answer, very little if the predator is slick.

So the responsibility rests squarely on the parent's, grandparents', or even big brother's shoulders.  We must keep a vigilant eye on our wandering wonders.  And we do.  Because that little child is precious to us.  When she gets all caught up in playing, exploring or chasing rabbits down dark holes of curiousity, someone has an eye on her.  Most times, it's several someones.  Be it a restaurant, Wal-Mart, movie theaters, groceries or playgrounds--we know where she is at all times.  So it is with God.

He knows where His children are.  And should we wander off in any direction for any reason and take our attention off Him, He is bound by His own promises to bring us back to His protection, His care and His sustaining grace.  His job.  His Holy Spirit's job.  We can believe and trust God to care for us in His Sovereign Omnipotence.  But knowing these things to be true, I think we need to understand God cannot tolerate loyalties divided.  Man cannot serve two masters.  God is a jealous God.

His jealousy is born out of love--pure love we, as humans, cannot begin to muster.  Not with voice.  Action.  Gift.  Or sacrifice.  What a friend we have in Jesus--in His grace we find all we need and more.  Makes me wonder why I seek after lesser things from people and the world.  Makes me wonder a great deal of the blessings I've missed while mourning my losses.  selahV [copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

TELL ME IT'S NOT TRUE

I WISH I COULD TELL YOU I FELL ASLEEP AND DREAMED THIS.

BUT I CAN'T.  It's true.

I saw this discussed on the news today.  It made me sick.  And I'm sure it will nauseate you a bit, too.  So go get a glass of ice water, a cool cloth and sit down.  It's definitely got the all-time Bill O'Reilly "Ridiculous Item of the Day" award.  But to be fair, the most ridiculous thing is that people are actually purchasing this item.

WOULD YOU?

Click HERE and return to leave a comment of your answer.

YES___

No___

Other___

CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?  A coffin for a wedding ring?  Because you're moving on with your life and need to bury the past?  Puuuleeze.  For one thing if anyone has just gone through a divorce, they probably will need all the money they can scrape together for the electric bill and car payment.  They certainly won't need a fancy dancy coffin to bury their gold ring in.  Shucks.  You could at least sell the thing and give the ten bucks to charity.  Why bury it?  And if you are so inclined for the symbolism of it all, then my answer is get a matchbox but don't waste your money on this ludicrousy!   selahV   

I'M NOW A SNAKE HANDLER

Yesterday my grandson, Jordy, called me up and said, "Grama, I've got some snakes for you."

Now, I'm sure most folks wouldn't think that was such a grand thing for an Easter present for a grama of my caliber. (I spoil my grandchildren with abandon).  And for the most part, I hate snakes!  Goes back to the Garden of Eden thing, I suppose.  HOWEVER...

when Jordy called with his announcement, I was elated.  He knew I wanted some snakes.  When we went to the pet store to purchase some little white mice to feed his 4-foot Python, I had asked the clerk if they had any snakes for sale.  She said, "Not yet, we don't have much call for them at this time of year."

So you see?  I'm not the only one who wants snakes.  It just wasn't the right time of year for supply to meet demand.  But Jordy is an explorer.  He's an adventurer and yesterday he went out back after our Sunday ham, scalloped potatoes and broccoli casserole dinner.  And he went exploring.  Beneath a bunch of debris, he found a family of garter snakes.  He captured two of them.  One was actually one-foot long.

I, not being one to play with snakes, was a bit edgy about how to release them into my yard.  My older grandson, Ryan, instructed that I turn the coffee can upside down on the spot in the yard I wanted to release them and leave the can on top of them.  That way they wouldn't scatter and slither away.  Well, I took his advice.

This morning I dug a big hole in the center of my compost pile and plopped my new-found friends into the hole and covered the can, snakes and all.  Now, hopefully in a few days, I'll be able to start distributing my compost without the threat of grubworms eating my tender plants.

Garter snakes are suppose to enjoy feasting on grubworms.  And since my grubworms are the size of my index finger, I'm sure my snakes will be quite satisfied.  I hope so.  I'd hate for them to leave my yard for my neighbor's greener lawn.

Afraid of snakes?  Not really.  Just the poisonous ones.  The others are created to balance the eco system.  Don't like my way?  Well, I asked for suggestions to get rid of my grubworm infestation.  Where were you two weeks ago? [copyrighted, selahV today, 2007]

 

THE TOMB IS FULL

   

MAY THE NEW LIFE CELEBRATED TODAY bring you the abundance of grace, wisdom and love an empty tomb promises.

In that empty tomb rests all things supernatural.

All things beautiful.

All things pure and holy.

A tomb empty of death because the Saviour has victory over death.  No longer does it have a sting, no longer can it destroy life.

Life has overcome.

For Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

THE STONE was rolled away.

Stand and look at the enormity of it.  Measure the weight of that stone.  Contemplate the impossibility of moving it.  Then understand that that stone was a simple pebble in the sight of the Lord.  It shouts today of the victory yesterday.  No man can lock the Lord inside a dark cavern hewn of man.

Go build upon that Stone.  For upon that Rock is the foundation of God's power and sovereignity.  Neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Oh bless the King of Kings who put life to death and transformed death to Life forever for those who trust a tomb belongs only to the dead--not the living.  A tomb holds no promise other than the cold reality of physical death.

But THE EMPTY TOMB of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior holds promises of eternal presence with God Almighty.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

   

HOPE RESTS IN ETERNITY

HOPE.

That inner insight that views impossibility as possible.  Deep within the soul of one's heart rests a seed.  We know without that seed, the tender green sprout will not break forth.  The sprout won't grow into a plant and the plant will not produce a bud.  Nor will the bud ever bloom.  So...

we must protect that seed.  We must hide it from the evil one, bathe it in prayer and entrust it to the Father's care.  We must not let criticism, circumstance or improbability cast shadows of doubt.

"Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us."

~~Samuel Smiles.

What cloud covers your sun?  What circumstance threatens the optimism of your soul?  Whose criticism pinches the spirit of life from your faith?  Whose words of caution rob you of God's peace?  Face the SON.  For as you walk toward Him in all your ways, the shadow of your burden will be behind you.

"You will keep him in perfect and constant peace whose mind is stayed on You...and hopes confidently in You." Is.26:3

Hope rests in eternity,

Eternal Life ~

not temporal pleasures.

Hope stores its future ~not in today~

but in eternal treasures.  selahV

[copyrighted, SelahV Today, 2007]

I AM CRUCIFIED

"I HAVE BEEN CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST;

it is no longer i who live, but CHRIST lives in me;

and the Life which i now live in the flesh

i live by faith

in the

SON OF GOD,

Who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20

SELAH

On which cross

have you been crucified?  SELAHv