To Know

If there was a book by whose reading we would come upon beauty and candor, and know of brave deeds of nerve and audacity, and of covenants–covenants bearing on us–would we not with eager hand press to the next page, and then to another, and finally to the end?

If there was a plan to engage us in virtue and in blessing, and cause us to perceive the source of all that is good, and to know His name is Jesus, would that be something to neglect? If we would come to know of the holy and of the righteous, would those be themes to brush aside? ………..and in place take up tatters and ruin?

Toward Perfection

Among knowledgeable and capable persons within the writing and publishing community, there are those who frankly say that “Christian” writing–across the board–fails to meet the standard of excellence that is seen in the general market. Now I do understand there are many undesirable offerings in the untitled (49 of 80)general market, but there also are many things well done.

Whether the premise to which I referred is sound or not, I leave others to decide, but I am definitely of the opinion that everything we Christians do, we should do well–the very best of which we are capable.

A few days ago I read that the prolific author John Irving begins all his books with the last sentence–the one that will conclude the book. He cogitates, thinks of the plot, the characters, the theme of the novel. He ruminates. Long periods pass before he has the last sentence written, and it will not change. Then there is usually a gap of a year–sometimes 18 months–before the first sentence has come to him. I was astounded when I read that. If a secular writer can expend that much thought and time on two sentences in a book, surely we are Christians can equal or surpass his efforts.

When we study to teach a Sunday school class or to write a sermon, we should do so fervently. When we scribe an essay, or a blog post, or a pamphlet, or a novel, we should so care. Our work should glitter and excel, a tribute to our calling.

Futility of Riches

On my other site, a discussion of debt and foreclosure has prompted me to further consideration of money, of riches, of earthy possessions. The Bible speaks extensively on the subject and wisely guides toward little regard for riches.

“There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing: there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.” Proverbs 13:7

From his Moralia, consider these words of the Greek philosopher, Plutarch:

“Heap up gold, amass wealth, build stately promenades, fill your house with slaves and the city with your debtors; unless you put a stop to your insatiate desires and quit yourself of fears and anxieties, you are but decanting wine for a man in a fevr. Does yot your observation of sick persons teach you that they dislike and reject the costliest viands which their attendants offer and try to force upon them; and then later, when their whole condition has changed, they get up and have joy and satisfaction eating plain bread with cheese and cress?

It is such a condition that reason creates in the soul. You will be contented with your lot if you learn what the honorable and good is. You will be luxurious in poverty and live like a king. Wealth will give you gladness with the good you will do to many; poverty, for your freedom from many cares; repute, for the honors you will enjoy; and obscurity, for the certainty that you shall not be envied.

I want God to create in my mind, and in my soul, a craving–not for possessions or houses or holdings or coins, but for God’s holy Presence and sweet communion. Beside such, all else pale, are recognized for their futility and soon fade into oblivion.


My other blog is here.

Quiet At The Genesis

Dawn had not yet arrived and Jerry had not awakened, when this morning I drew on a warm robe and slid my feet into red wool slippers. In our living area, I pushed the switch to activate heat strips and turned on the lamp at the end of the sofa. It was quiet here in DJs RV park, and for a while I sat in solitude and read. I read again of God, and of the Genesis of our earth. I read of His six unique days; of humans and animals, of form and void, and of water and space; of darkness and of the moon. By the time I finished reading, light had swarmed through the windows, Jerry had made his appearance, and the aroma of freshly brewed Peets coffee pervaded the place.

Of those verses I read today–and their images–my favorite is this:

“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.”

Can you visualize this dynamic picture? Can’t you see God relaxing, leaning back, (don’t ask me how God could have leaned back, for I have not a clue–just see Him, please) and, as a master gardener at season’s peak proudly looks over his handiwork, God surveyed all He had done…”…saw every thing that He had made…,” and the next words are the ones I love…”and, behold, it was very good.” Isn’t that the greatest thing! People, elephants, trees, the sea, seven continents, a brilliant sun, and one subdued moon…”it was very good.”

It was quiet in Eden that day–no fighting words, no striving for position, no frantic clawing for understanding, no confusion, no apprehension, no quarrel. It was quiet as God looked–quiet except for the cacophony of bird songs and brown monkey yips and the gentle purr of leopards.

And today, I long for Eden where there is no apprehension, no misunderstandings, no confusion, no wrong ideas, no misperceptions. No lack of assurance.

But how could I expect such?…for the spirit of Genesis is known to be a distant stretch.. far outside my grasp. So then, are we closer to the end? Are the ultimate reaches of time and the birth of a new universe at my fingertips?


My other blog is here.

“So, Diana, What is the Meaning of Life?”

What is Life?  originally uploaded by Shirley Buxton.

“So, Diana, what’s the meaning of life?”

He had edged his way forward so that now he stood first position in the check-out line where my friend Diana was in service at the register. Speechless, she stared at him.

On Tuesday mornings at 9:00, in the recreation room of DJs RV park, I teach a ladies Bible study–have been doing it for the better part of a year now. It’s a small group that ranges from 2 to 7 people. Diana, a beautiful, godly, tall specimen of a woman lives at the park, and when she is not working at Albertson’s Market, she attends our study group.

A few weeks ago I began a new series of lessons, in which I take an important world event, and from the Bible examine its significance, and from which I extrapolate practical and spiritual lessons. Last Tuesday, with the Iowa Caucus in mind and considering the election in general, I taught on The Search for Truth. For surely when we listen to speeches of the candidates, examine their records, hear their every nuance and strive to interpret innuendo, we are searching for truth–Who will make the best President of the United States?

The thrust of my lesson, of course, was that although selecting the right President is vitally important to us, it’s significance pales in comparison to that of determining spiritual truth, and considering the subsequent determination of our eternal future.

Since antiquity–from those with city street high steps, to the youth of abject ragged slouch, to that of primal jungle man, every inquiring soul has said within himself, “What is truth?”

Jesus answers: “…I am the way, the truth, and the life…” John 14:6

Diana thinks the man chose to ask her life’s deepest question because on her lapel she wore a tiny, gold cross.

“So, Diana, what is the meaning of life?”

Startled at the question–having only seconds to respond, for she was in command of the quickcheck line–before her mind could focus and drag words from her frozen throat, the man had moved away. And in the Tuesday Bible study, Diana told us of the question.

And I ask you today, “What is the meaning of life?”

Can it be more than Jesus, who is Truth? Can it be more than our lives and our voices telling the world of this revelation of supreme truth–of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I think not.


My other blog is here.

Close My Mouth

Within the past few weeks, there has come word to Jerry and me of inappropriate behavior of one of our friends–not a really close friend, but one we have known for many years. The alleged action of this person is so far out of character for him, that as we discussed it and surrounding issues yesterday, I said to Jerry, “I don’t believe it.”

It was in recent years that I became aware of this scripture, and immediately on reading those words, they struck a chord inside me.

He that covereth a transgression seeketh love; but he that repeateth a matter separateth very friends.” Proverbs 17:9

Whoa! You mean if I hear of someone doing wrong, I should not talk about it? Are you sure? Shouldn’t I let people know what is going on. No, we shouldn’t, and yes, I’m sure.

Should you persist with: But, we don’t want sin in our church, and God hates sin, and I’ll just tell a couple of my friends so we can pray about it. That’s it, I need to spread around the word so we can take the matter to God in prayer. We should not do that, and yes, I’m sure.

A couple of reasons to closely follow these enlightening words lie here:

1. The story as it has been told is most likely not true in every aspect.

2. It’s probably none of my business, and my knowing or not knowing will likely not make a significant difference in the outcome.

3. If it is true, the person at fault may see the error of his way, and correct the situation.

4. You can’t “unring a bell.” When a negative thought or idea of someone is put in my mind, to one extent or another, that thought is always there. That certainly isn’t fair, for it may turn out to be a false accusation.

Now, having said that, it’s important to read another scripture. It’s down just a ways, verse 15.

” He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are abomination to the LORD.”

So, yes, the time may come when wickedness is revealed, and it’s at that point that God warns…don’t pat that person on the head, don’t justify or excuse them. For such mindset is an abomination to the LORD.

Admitted too, is that there are times, when, depending on the nature of the situation, and my relationship with the accused or with the issue that it is appropriate–even necessary–to discuss the matter. Let me always guard my spirit, though. Let me grieve over the misstep of the fallen, and may there never be found an inkling of “well, she’s been warned before, he deserved it, or told you so.”

Help me God. Perfect in me the spirit of shielding–of hiding–of covering–the transgressions of those who today may be faced with great struggle in their walk with Humanity and with You.


My other blog is here.

The Ultimate Connection

On Friday, white MacBook in hand, I opened our RV door, went down the steps, opened said computer and turned this way…Nope…turned that way…Nope…walked forward a few steps…Nope…to the back of our space…Nope…to the front…Nope. No matter which way I turned, or in what direction I moved–no signal came to my computer.

Reminds me of someone in the Bible:

23Then Job answered and said, 2 Even to day is my complaint bitter: my stroke [1] is heavier than my groaning. 3 Oh that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat! 4 I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments. 5 I would know the words which he would answer me, and understand what he would say unto me. 6 Will he plead against me with his great power? No; but he would put strength in me. 7 There the righteous might dispute with him; so should I be delivered for ever from my judge.

8 Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: 9 On the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him: 10 But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold. 11 My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined. 12 Neither have I gone back from the commandment of his lips; I have esteemed [2] the words of his mouth more than my necessary food.

Those who follow my writing know Jerry and I am temporarily living in our motor home in an RV park in Lake Havasu City, AZ. Our landline, modem and desk top computer are hundreds of miles away in our home in Crestline, Ca., so now we use a wireless internet service that is routed from the office at DJs. Around one hundred rigs reside here, we’re down in a bit of valley, and across the highway is the sheriff’s station that boasts a high and powerful antenna. All this metal in and about us and the heavy sheriff’s antenna makes for lots of interference and spotty internet service for everyone here in the park. Patrick was over a few weeks ago and installed several tall repeaters and that has helped tremendously, but it’s still not perfect. (as though anything–especially concerning computers–could be perfect.) I’m one of the lucky ones here in the park, for usually I can work on my computer in my motorhome…others in the park can’t…still have to go into the rec room and connect to the DSL cable.

Anyway, on Friday, I had been busy writing something, when I got kicked off the web and could not reconnect. Finally, after casting about the park with my open computer, searching here and there for a signal, I went into the office.

“Is the service down in here, Maggie?”

“Well, I don’t know. Let me check.” She began looking under the desk at the snaking wires and flashing (or non-flashing) lights that resided there, sweetly muttering as she did so, “Now, you know I’m not much of a technician. I’ll unplug and replug everything. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to call in for repairs…let’s see here.”

Sure enough, the service was down from the source, and sure enough merely unplugging and replugging caught the signal. I tested my Mac as I stood there, smiled at its positive signs, patted its little head, and walked back to my rig where I continued with my project.

The nature of my activities demands a connection to the internet, and mighty frustration sets in around here when such connection is interrupted. Let me tell you, though, that my connection to Jesus is much more important than my connection to the www…and so is yours…and we’d better not forget it. A downed communication pole or a bit of dust in a connection point can halt me in my tracks as far as my internet work is concerned. Drives me batty, I confess.

And I’m as Job when I’m trying to link up with Jesus…I cast about and look for Him and search for Him…and really He’s there all along…sometimes testing my determination for connection, I believe…sometimes distancing Himself…to try me. Sometimes…as close as the mention of His Name…easily touched…easily braced and entwined. Let me stay connected today…whatever it takes…however long I must cast about and reach for joining. Let my attachment be always with the everlasting, never failing source–Jesus Christ, my Saviour.

I love this little guy from Instructables ….love Jesus more!


My other blog is here.

Be Born in Me, Holy Spirit

“Be born in me, oh Holy Spirit

And let my will be lost in thine.

And let the world see only You, Lord

Be born in me, Oh, Christ divine. “

I “googled” these words trying to determine the author, and to see if I have the words exactly right, but I did not find the information I need.

This is a beautiful chorus that I have been singing since early-morning hours, and it is my prayer today–my sincere prayer. Be born in me, Jesus. Be formed in my soul. Be developed in me. Let me take on Your attributes, Your holiness, mark me as one of Yours, designate me, mold me.

For within myself, and utilizing only my power, I am at odds with godliness and with holiness. Sometimes I touch the rare, feel myself to be at one with Divinity, faintly brushed with supernatural, and with the angelic. Then passes the moment, and, again, I know myself to be stained and sinful.

But forever will be my reach, for I assuredly know that one day I will grasp eternal redemption and consolation, for of such am I predestinated, called and ordained.

Yes, be born in me, Oh Holy Spirit…


My other blog is here.

Damaged, but Precious

This morning on the Museum Security Network, I read the following reports of severe damage that in year’s past was done to the works of the famous artist, Rembrandt.

Rembrandt is probably one of the most famous artist who ever lived, who’s name is recognized world-wide. Rembrandt was born in The Netherlands in 1606 and died in 1669. His most famous painting is The Night Watch . Rembrandt would have never imagined his soon to be world famous painting would be vandalized, not once, but twice, in later years. A 1975 vandalisim has been well publicized. But was there others?

I have searched the Internet for any information of a 1911 attack on The Night Watch painting and no where have I seen anything about this incident. Why is there no mention of this act of vandalism against this masterpiece?

And now the rest of the story…………..

On January 13, 1911 in Rotterdam, a disgruntled Navy cook, angered by his discharge from the service, went into the Rijiks Museum and badly slashed the masterpiece with a knife. The man’s name was Sigrist, and he said he vandalized the painting as an act of vengence against the state for discharging him.

On June 19, 1999 I received the following update:

May I suggest an addition:

There were three incidents, not two. The 1975 incident was the worst. Large pieces of canvas were lying on the museum floor after a psychic cut the painting. It took a long time, about half a year, to restore the painting. This was the first time all old varnish was removed. The 1975 damage can still be seen on the painting (not very clearly, but if you know where to look for it…)

April 1990 another patient threw acid on the Nightwatch. Thanks to an extremely quick and adequate reaction of the guards damage was limited to the varnish. By the way: the guy who did this cut and severely damaged a Picasso in another Amsterdam museum last month.

best regards,

Ton Cremers


When I read this and considered the efforts that were expended to restore these priceless works of art, my mind flashed to the human soul, and the bodies wherein are housed these everlasting entities. I thought of the damaged people around me, people bearing hideous scars, people whose lives and bodies reek with sin poisoning and whose minds and emotions are slashed through with the havoc of evil living . I thought of myself, born fully entrenched in the curse of sin, and who has to fight constantly to live a holy life.

But as damaged paintings are yet considered precious and worthy of enormous amounts of time, energy and sums of money to restore them, surely every human being must deserve the same attention and respect. No matter the damage, the slashing, the scarring we have endured, we are yet loved by Christ, and His redeeming blood is available to exact a full and beautiful restoration


My other blog is here.