In this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Phil Smith recognizes that “a world too big for us” can tempt us with despair. “There is nothing we can do,” Phil writes, “because the fanatics and generals and corporate boards hold power.” And for we who are Christians? “We hope for heaven after we die, because the world is too big.”
This is not a new problem.
“Judah’s exiles had just as much reason to despair as we do,” Phil writes. And the truth is that they may have had more reason to despair than we do. “Babylon had conquered Jerusalem and burned its temple.” But in the face of destruction, “Isaiah announced God’s salvation.”
Did they believe?
Do we?
God is “faithful, loving, and holy. . . . The God who created the world can make something new; he can deliver Israel [and us] in ways they [and we] would never have dreamed.”
But we need a reminder of who God is. We need God’s help to hope.
Eric Muhr
P.S. Don’t forget our continuing sale on all of Arthur Roberts’ work. Click here to see the full collection. All of Arthur’s books remain discounted in our bookstore for just one more week.
Praying for courage
In this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Bruce Butler writes of his service as a hospice chaplain, “working alongside dedicated nurses, doctors, social workers, and hospice aides to bring comfort and care to patients and their families during the final stage of living – the dying stage.” During his nine years in that position, Bruce noted that it is common for “patients who have unreconciled family issues [to] struggle for peace at the end.”
I read that first paragraph three times this morning, especially that phrase: “unreconciled family issues.” And I thought about all the different families of which I’m a part. My parents and brothers and sisters. My extended family. My church family. My yearly meeting. I thought about some of our “unreconciled family issues,” and I briefly considered compiling a list. But I didn’t know where to start. There’s a lot. A lot that still hurts.
Maybe that’s how it is for you, too.
“Sadly, some families live for years or even decades without forgiveness,” Bruce writes, “unwilling to confess uncaring actions, painful words, or hurtful attitudes.” And whose responsibility is it to risk going first? Bruce doesn’t say. Instead, he points to the reality that “sometimes we find that harboring hurts keeps us in positions of power over our loved ones, fueling our refusal to reconcile.”
I think Bruce is right. I think Bruce is right about me. I think Bruce is right about us.
Bruce uses the Genesis narratives about Joseph to illustrate how hard it can be to reconcile. “First he had to assure himself his brothers had fundamentally changed.” Joseph also wanted to know “that his youngest brother was still alive.” Forgiveness didn’t come easily to Joseph. In spite of his position, Joseph still had suspicions, fears, hurts. Yet Joseph took a risk and discovered that he also had a “powerful weapon for good in [his] family – the power of forgiveness.”
We, too, have this “powerful weapon for good,” and Bruce points out that when we learn to wield this weapon “to seek reconciliation . . . we free ourselves to once again serve the Lord together with gladness.”
Bruce offers a prayer suggestion: “Lord Jesus, make me an instrument of your peace in the life of my family. Give me courage to forgive and reconcile.”
Today I’m praying for that courage. I’m also praying for you.
Eric Muhr
P.S. Don’t forget our continuing sale on all of Arthur Roberts’ work. Click here to see the full collection. All of Arthur’s books remain discounted in our bookstore through Monday, March 6 .
Slowing down
In her reflection on John 10:7-10 in this morning’s Fruit of the Vine, Linda Michael shares a memory about ice cream. “Years ago when life was a whirlwind, I found a rare minute to sit with a big bowl of chocolate almond marshmallow ice cream.” At the time, Linda writes that she had a habit of buying “flavors I didn’t like” in order to avoid temptation, “but for some reason on this particular day, I felt I owed myself that ice cream.”
It was while eating that bowl of ice cream that Linda had her moment of awakening. In the middle of all her worries, her busyness, “and a hundred other interrupters,” Linda realized that she “hadn’t really tasted” the ice cream.
So she slowed down.
“The rest of that ice cream was sweet, smooth, rich, cold. The nuts were crisp and coated in crunchy, dark chocolate, the marshmallow cream soft and sweet. . . . I experienced the flavors, textures, temperatures.”
Slowing down is hard.
There are a dozen waterfalls in Yamhill County, where I live. Many of them are poorly mapped and hard to find, so I gave myself a challenge this last summer: to find and photograph all twelve. On one of those trips, I had to slide down a nearly vertical 500 feet of loose dirt and pine needles. The waterfall at the bottom of that ravine was worth it. Baker Creek cascades over a basalt ledge in two giant steps to the forest floor. There were fresh salmon berries. Birds. The glint of afternoon sun. The roar of water. But by the time I’d climbed back up to the road, I was ready to go home. I was driving back down that mountain road, when I had a moment of awakening. I realized that the experience isn’t just in the capture of the falls in order to check it off my list. The journey also has meaning. So I stopped my car in the middle of that road. I got out, and I took the photo in the header of this email. A small screen of sword ferns with light landing on the fir trunks behind. I drove the rest of the way a little more slowly.
Linda writes, “We get so busy with life that we forget to live . . . not noticing the joys of each moment, the little presents from God that each day holds.” Jesus came that we “may have life, and have it abundantly,” but that's not our default.
We have to choose to slow down.
Eric Muhr
P.S. Don’t forget our continuing sale on all of Arthur Roberts’ work. Click here to see the full collection. All of Arthur’s books remain discounted in our bookstore through Monday, March 6 .