Archive for June, 2008
In Act 1, scene iii of Hamlet Polonius is speaking to his son Laertes who is leaving to travel abroad. It is from this speech that we have the famous quote: “This above all: to thine own self be true, / And it must follow, as the night the day, / Thou cans’t not then be false to any man” (ll. 78-80). Usually this oft-quoted statement is reduced to simply “to thine own self be true.” While that is probably the intent of the statement in a nutshell, I think the last part of that statement is just as important. (This is not intended to be a literary analysis of this speech by Polonius.)
At first glance, it might seem there is a selfish connotation to what Shakespeare has said. If you say only, “To thine own self be true,” that leaves the focus only on you. But when you read the entire statement, the writer has linked how we view and treat others directly to how we view and treat ourselves. I cannot be false to someone else if I’m true to myself. Does this sentiment have anything to say to the Christian? I think it does.
My position in Christ makes this so. (See Ephesians 1.) I am a daughter of the Creator of the universe, the Redeemer of all mankind, the Lamb of God who was slain before the foundation of the world, and in that position I am joint-heir with Christ to all that belongs to God the Father. Now, I know of no one outside of Christ who holds such a position, do you? I do not merit any of this. It is a gift from God, granted to me because I made the decision to accept Jesus as my Savior and allow Him lordship of my life. It does not matter what I have done, where I’ve been, how intelligent I am or whether I lack intelligence, I am a princess and the Lord of all the earth is my father and king. It is in that knowledge that I receive my identity, my self-worth. The neat thing about this is that the same position is available to all who want it. You do not have to do anything to get it; just accept God’s offer and move right in. But here’s the tricky part—learning how to live in full realization of that position. Now, that can take a life time; particularly for slow learners like me.
When I come to realize and understand my position in Christ, then everything about me changes–the way I see myself, the way I treat myself, the way I treat my family and friends, and the way I treat my God and Father. The Word that became flesh has become real to me. It is no longer something I do because if I don’t I will feel guilty; I desire to spend time with the One who holds my life, my joy, my identity, my inheritance in the palm of His hand. As I assimilate the truth of God’s Word into my everyday life, as I am true to myself, then I cannot be false to any man. It is in that sense that as I am to myself, so I will be to you.
Grams
The morning was cool with just a slight breeze blowing from the south. I sat on the back porch watching the day come to life. The grass needed cutting. Well, why not? There wasn’t much dew on the ground and I was too keyed up to go to bed anyway. Working twelve hour shifts at night in a textile mill made sleep come easy once you were able to relax. While my energy level was still pumping, I’d better get this done. I could probably be through with it by the time mother had breakfast ready. Then to bed.
I had just finished the front yard when mother called that breakfast was ready. I was feeling good and didn’t want to stop, so I waved her off and kept on mowing. Now understand this was a push mower. The yard was large enough to warrant a riding mower but my pocket book didn’t quite match up. So, by now I’m hot and sweaty. A breeze ruffles the leaves on the walnut tree and, ah! . . . instant air conditioning! All right, now let’s get this job done. With renewed vigor, I head toward the walnut tree.
What was that? There it is again! About every 3 feet or so something black flies up from the ground, pelting me like gravel. I cut the mower to investigate. Maybe 3 or 4 feet apart are clumps of grass laid out in a pattern. Taking a closer look I find walnuts hidden under the grass, raised just high enough so that when the mower cuts into them I’m showered with bits and pieces of walnuts.
“Brian”! He pokes his head out the back door. “Ma’am”? I give him a knowing look. “What have you done? I’m being beat to death with walnuts! What do you mean”? “I’m sorry, Mom. I was playing war and that’s my mine field.” Well, mister, since you want to play war, you can de-activate your mine field with this mower. Finish eating your breakfast and then get out here and cut the back yard. I don’t mind you playing like this, but you can’t just leave it. When you get through, always put things back the way they’re supposed to be.” “But, Mom, I wasn’t through playing war.” “Well, you are today.”
I sat on the edge of the porch, needing to cool down a bit before going in to breakfast. Brian comes by me on the way to “de-activate” his mine field and gives me a grin. I give him a whack on the backside as he goes by. I think I can eat some eggs, bacon, and biscuits about now. As I go through the back door, I hear the mower start up. I stop to listen . . . . Almost as if on cue Brian lets out a howl. I grin; bet he doesn’t do that again.
Grams
We lived on Cane Hill. I don’t know why we did it, but we always named the places we lived. Our landlord’s name was Cane and the house sat on a hill back from the road. So it seemed only right that we name this place Cane Hill.
It was a good place to live; quiet and almost secluded with plenty of room for two growing boys to run and play. The house was old, but had been remodeled in the past. One result of the remodeling was a big fireplace in the den. Very few things are as hungry as a fireplace. A sizable amount of wood had to be ordered each fall. Somehow we always convince ourselves that the enjoyment of an open fire is worth any expense and labor. Besides, burning a fireplace will save on heating costs, right?
The wood came as ordered and was neatly stacked under a tree close to the back porch, making it handy to reach from the den. A neighbor commented one day about my stack of wood and that he was tempted to sneak up some night and help himself to a truckload of firewood. Brian listened intently while I told what the man said.
One evening, a few weeks later, I went out to the woodpile to bring in wood for the next day. I had a good armload already but reached for one more piece. Suddenly something hit me in the back of the head. Gentle shakes and a damp cloth brought me around as mother and the boys questioned if I was all right. What hit me? How long was I out? Man! I’ve got a bump on the back of my head. Then I noticed Brian.
Brian was really quiet, standing with his head down. “Brian, what did you do?” I said. “I’m really sorry, mom, but I didn’t want that man to get our wood.” “What man?” “You know, the one you told us about. You said he told you he was going to sneak up here some night and get a truckload of wood. We need our wood. I put a piece of wood on that limb that hangs out over the woodpile, tied a rope around it, and put the other end of the rope under a piece of wood in the woodpile. That way if anyone tried to steal our wood, we could catch him. I forgot to tell you.”
Even though my head ached and I walked a little wobbly, I could not help but laugh. What mother could scold a 9-year-old with such ingenuity? I would leave the talk about letting me know about these sort of things for another day. Later that evening, I thought about the surprise that had awaited my neighbor and laughed.
Grams
“In the cover of your presence you hide them from the plots of men; you store them in your shelter from the strife of tongues” (Psalm 31:20; ESV).
I don’t know how you go about applying Scripture to life, but when I’m reading the Bible and a particular word or phrase catches my attention, I usually stop to consider exactly what is being said. Not very complicated, really, but I find that it works very well for me. That’s what I did when reading in Psalms the other day.
The phrase “in the cover of your presence” almost jumped off the page at me. I’ve heard men preach about living in the presence of God and being in the presence of God a lot of times, but, I’ve never heard anyone preach or teach about being covered with the presence of God. Were they the same thing? I wasn’t sure.
To live in the presence of God denotes walking in fellowship with Him; letting Jesus be the Lord of your life. Through His presence, Jesus is involved in every facet of your life, from the decisions you make to the people you allow to be part of that life. You walk with Him as He walks with you. A most blessed place to live.
To be covered indicates to me protection and that made sense to me because the rest of the verse talked about being hidden from the plots of men, even from the strife of men’s tongues. But I would submit that one is not possible without the other. To enjoy God’s covering, His protection, is not possible unless you are first living in that presence. And to live in the presence of God one must first belong to Him. God’s presence goes with those who have accepted Jesus as their personal savior.
As you walk closer to the Lord, as you delve deeper into His Word, as you get to know Him as your best friend, you are covered by His presence. You belong to Him and the psalmist says that His presence will hide you in the day of trouble; you will be covered by the presence in your life of the eternal Son of God.
I realize this is probably not the best explanation of this verse and I’m sure there is much more that can be said about it, but the thought of God’s presence covering, protecting, even hiding me from the evil men’s tongues can cause held a special blessing for me that day. I hope this has been a blessing to you as well.
Grams
The boys squealed with delight. They had their hamster. He was a blackberry hamster, thus the name BB. Now I’m not overly fond of animals in general and none of the rodent variety at all. And this feller looked more like a rat than something that should be put in a cage in my grandson’s bedroom. Speaking of cage, this glorified rodent had to have a special feeding box and an exercise wheel. I learned that these creatures were totally nocturnal, which meant BB would be awake while the rest of the household was asleep. Now, for those of you who do not understand exactly what all this means–the little, sweet, cute “thing” ran on the exercise wheel all night. Guess who else was also nocturnal.
The store where we purchased BB was about 30 miles from the house. Kristie drove, the boys were buckled in the back seat, and Grams sat up front on the passenger side. Yep, you guessed it. I got to hold the container with BB in it. Now that doesn’t seem to be too much to ask of a grandmother, even if she is afraid of rats. But, being of the rodent family, BB began to gnaw on the paper container. He apparently had his days and nights mixed up and was set on exercising. The intensity level of my job just increased enormously. Every time he almost had his freedom I’d pinch that part of the box closed and tell Kristie to hurry. I began to calculate the distance to the house, the speed of the truck, and the efficiency of BB’s teeth. I felt sure BB was going to win!
Just as it seemed BB would make his way to the outside, Kristie turned in the driveway. She had called ahead for Brian to have the cage ready and that one phone call saved the day. As quickly as I could, I handed off my furry charge to my son who transferred him to his rodent-size home. I stepped back, marveling at how something so small and evidently so cute and lovable to my grandsons could cause a 61 year old grandmother to consider jumping out of a truck going 50 miles per hour down the highway. Then I shook my head in amazement at what grandmothers will do to please grandchildren. There’s no answer to that one.
Grams
The Foot Log
The gray sky hung low and heavy, almost touching the ground. A mist rose to mingle with the rain, soaking and chilling as it fell. No wind. All was quiet and just plain cold. No birds, no sounds, nothing. I wondered if this was the way it felt when the earth was young.
I wasn’t the only one feeling like we’d made a big mistake in coming on this camping trip. I could tell from their faces that others shared my sentiments also. There was no way it had been this cold and wet when we left the comfort of our beds to spend a day “roughing” it in the woods. Maybe it’s colder and wetter in the woods. I don’t know, but that sounded logical to me.
Daddy had agreed to take the boys from the church on a hunting/camping trip and, of course, we girls wanted to come along too. So, in trying to be fair to all the youth in the church, he had agreed to take anyone who wanted to go. That was his first mistake. His second? Going camping in the fall after the winter rains had set in. In all fairness to him, he had planned the trip for just the guys and it was to be a serious hunting trip, not a social for the young people at church. His third mistake was failing to understand the reason girls would want to go on a hunting/camping trip in the first place.
We had ridden into the wilderness (that’s what it seemed like to me) a long way over bumpy, potholed, dirt roads. Finally it was time to park the vehicles and walk to the campsite. That meant all the gear had to be carried and everybody had to do their part. I didn’t remember this being part of the deal. But, not to be outdone, we all grabbed a pack and started for the campsite.
Before we could set up camp we had to cross this creek. Now the problem was that the rains had caused the creek to be higher than it was supposed to be. Someone had this “great” idea of a foot log, which lay perfectly across the creek and offered convenient access to the campsite. So, across the foot log we would go.
Daddy went first. Now in an effort once again to be fair, my daddy was a woodsman. He hunted and fished and knew a lot about survival, long before all the survival shows we have today. I never doubted his ability to take care of us while in the woods. He had the heaviest pack and carried his shotgun. He told us he was going to clear the leaves off the log so our footing would be sure. The rest of the group waited as he started across. He walked carefully, kicking the leaves off the log before each step. He was walking in rhythm, swinging his leg and kicking the leaves. Then the inevitable happened. For some reason, still unknown, daddy lost his rhythm and instead of kicking leaves, his right foot kicked his left ankle and there was this big splash. Daddy had kicked his feet out from under him and gone feet first into the creek. Remember the rains? He went all the way under. Only his shotgun could be seen; he had managed to hold it above his head and avoided getting it wet.
While daddy was scrambling up the bank, the rest of us hurried on across. The next thing on our agenda was to build a fire. Daddy needed to get dry and warm as fast as he could. He was our guide, caretaker, provider, and anything else we needed. We had to take care of him. So, as only young people can do, we immediately set up camp; one of the other men built a fire and looked after the preacher. Before long we had a semblance of a meal ready and daddy was in some dry clothes; well, they were almost dry. We sat around the fire, talking about what had happened, and laughing at the preacher who had been the only one to fall into the creek. Somewhere along the way we had forgotten the rain, the cold, and the discomfort. We were actually enjoying ourselves.
There are several lessons one can learn from a day like I’ve just described: don’t be over confident; plan carefully, considering any and all possibilities; be prepared for emergencies; make the most of a bad situation; even cancel plans when conditions warrant it. But the one thing that has come to my mind down through the years when I recall that day has been people’s ability to laugh at bad situations; to turn a bad day into an enjoyable outing. And that’s what it was–a good day.
Grams
Antoine Rivarol is a French writer of the 18th century known for writing maxims of a negative slant. He wrote the following: “Man spends his life reasoning on the past, in complaining of the present, in fearing the future.” When I first read that statement I didn’t give it much thought, but for some reason I kept returning to it. Although he doesn’t give mankind much credit for having a positive outlook on life at all, Rivarol does hit pretty close to where a lot of us live. Maybe that was why I continued to read and contemplate on the exact meaning of what he had said.
If a person continues to look to the past while complaining about his or her lot in life today, one has no hope for the future. And a life without hope leads to an existence dominated by fear. Now for the child of God, what does that say about one’s faith in an all-powerful, all-knowing, ever present God? Not much at all.
It can be a good thing to think about the way things were when you were a child and enjoy memories of a time when life was simpler. It is a good thing to be realistic about life in general. Things aren’t always pleasant and good and to ignore problems only leads to more of the same. But to let what you once had or did not have; to let the difficult times of the past and the unpleasant happenings of this day bind you in a fearful expectation of tomorrow goes against everything the Word of God teaches for the child of God.
We are to live by faith. We are to forget the past, be content with today, and look forward with anticipation to what God has in store for us tomorrow. Why can I say this with confidence? Because I am an ex-reasoner on the past and an ex-complainer of the present, as well as an ex-fearful looker into the future. Do I still have times when I take a peek at the past? I’m afraid I do. Do I ever get frustrated with the way things are in my life today? Yeah, that’s me sometimes. Have I ever contemplated just what the future held and whether I would be OK? A time or two. But I have found the way out of the past, a joy in living in the present, and a hope for the future.
The Scripture says that the Lord acknowledges a broken and contrite spirit. The Comanche Indian tribe describes a broken and contrite spirit as “my heart is on the ground.” As my spirit broke in repentance and confession of wrong attitudes, pride, anger, frustration, fear, doubt, and selfishness, my heart was on the ground; I emptied myself, placing my past, the present, and my future in the hands of the only one who can erase the past, deal with the present, and orchestrate the events that are coming my way.
Into that emptied life I invited the Holy Spirit and He came in, filling all the spaces that had once been occupied with frustration, anger, hopelessness, fear, and longing. Peace, love, joy, and hope reside there now. My salvation was never in question, but I’ve learned that I must continually empty myself and let the Holy Spirit fill me with all I need to be a follower of Christ. I will tell you this: it was not easy. An emptied life requires that you take a long, honest look at yourself. But to be rid of the past, to appreciate what God is doing in my life today, and to live without dread of tomorrow is worth that look, any day of the week.
Grams