Monday Musings: For I Was Hungry

A plate can represent a family's personality. It can match with a certain decor or taste. But a plate, in its simplest context, suggests food--a filling of the plate. An empty plate could be a symbol of hunger or lack.

In God's Word, He promises to care for His children. In Matthew 6:26 (TEB), we are admonished, "Look at the birds flying around: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest, and put it in barns; your Father in heaven takes care of them!"" In verses 31-34, we are told to "stop worrying" about these basic needs: "Your Father in heaven knows that you need all these things. Instead, be concerned above everything else with his Kingdom and with what he requires, and he will provide you with all these other things (RSV)." 

Why then, one might ask, do some go hungry? I think the key lies in the second part--"be concerned about everything else with his Kingdom..." We sometimes forget that we are to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Saint Teresa of Avila put it into perspective this way:

"Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion for the world is to look out; yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good; and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now." 

          Often we forget that we are Christ's body extended to a hurting world. Hunger means something far different in many countries--and even to many in our own. To say we are "hungry," to most of us means we are uncomfortable--maybe even starting to feel lightheaded or nauseous in some cases. But to those who live in hunger, it is a deep ache fraught with fear--the unquenchable fear that it may never go away--until that fear is replaced with numbness and a distant recollection of being somehow alive. It is a horrible and harsh reality most of us are fortunate enough to never have to face. Yet it's real, and our brothers and sisters are suffering. 

          My daughter went to Haiti, and she saw starving children firsthand. She will never think of food in quite the same way. Never take fresh water for granted. May we all have this kind of a revelation and seek to be the ones who will meet the need. One person cannot feed everyone, but as we give to God our "loaves and fishes," He can multiply it.  

My husband heads up a food bank through Marion-Polk Food Share, whose homepage slogan is "Imagine...no hunger." Can we truly imagine it? And can we do without to help someone else? I was blessed to hear the story of a family who came to the food bank and willingly gave up food they were going to receive because another family needed it. I believe it's what Jesus would do. And it blesses His heart when we act in such a way.

"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,..." (Matthew 25:35a, NIV). Whatever we do unto those society may consider the very least--in status, in appearance, in significance--we do to Jesus, for He identifies with each and every one; He loves each and every one. He is looking for those who will answer the call, "For I was hungry..." 

We are your hands.

We are your feet.

It is more than just a duty.

Give us faith to find your lost treasures

And to see their hidden beauty.

We are your hands.

We are your feet.

And though we may be few,

Let us carry your loving-kindness, Lord

That they may give their lives to you.

Let us see the ones we pass each day

And barely give a glance.

And love the ones whose souls will live

If we will take the chance.

And to those who’ve traveled far

Just to get a quenching drink

Let us be a fountain, Lord.

Oh, change the way we think!

  

When you next see a plate, think of what you could not put on that plate in order to help feed someone else. Ask what the Lord would have you do. We can't ignore hunger--it's all around us--let us not be some of those to whom the Lord says "Depart" because (vs. 42) "...I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink,..."

The word "for" means "Because, as, since, inasmuch as agree in implying a reason for an occurrence or action" (Dictionary.com). Action is necessitated and imperative. "For" equals a need that cannot be ignored. Let's make sure we are not turning away, for those same starved ones may be in spiritual hunger as well. 

            Consider for a moment the eternal ramifications and import of this one little phrase. For I was hungry.

Story Sunday: The Fireplace, Part 2

The first installment of this story was posted a week ago, on the 22nd. Make sure you read that part first. Please feel free to offer feedback--suggestions, specific stand-out parts, and the like. I value your input.

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Dinner commenced with the joining of hands and Ted offering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for his family’s safe arrival. Heads nodded all around in agreement as he closed with a loud “Amen.”
Margaret scanned around to make sure everyone was getting what he or she needed. She jumped up several times to get drink refills and replenish the basket of dinner rolls. She was the consummate hostess. And relished every minute of it.

“So, Jon,” Parker began, making conversation, “how’s business?”

“Beautifully,” Paula answered for him, then realized it just as quickly. “Oh, sorry, dear. You tell them all about it.”

Smiling, Jon took his wife’s cue and began to fill the family in on his most recent enterprise, photographing vintage barns. Jonathan’s photography business, Ray of Hope, had taken off. Jon, who presented more like an accountant upon first meeting, truly had an artistic streak—but he used his outside the home, whereas Paula employed hers in creating a welcoming and celebratory atmosphere within their two-story colonial style residence.

The younger Johnstons lived on a hill overlooking Lake Michigan in the small town of Fish Creek, Wisconsin, just over three and a half hours from Ted and Margaret’s. Winter-time tended to be a bit slower for Jon’s business, so the couple tended to visit more frequently between December and February.

“Wow, I love vintage barns,” exclaimed Daisy, who had started her own cottage-style décor business.

Since Mary had moved out, her old upstairs room had become, in part, Daisy’s studio. A partition separated her wares from the rest of the room, which was still guest-ready. It was a priority to Margaret to have places for family to stay. “No motels for my kin,” she would always say. A second guestroom, where Mary and Parker would be sleeping, graced the downstairs floor.

“Well, if you’d like, I can certainly provide you with some artistically framed copies of my favorite barn photos—for your shop,” offered Jon.

“Oh, that would be lovely!” Daisy virtually clapped at the thought of a new addition to her stock.

“How are the yams?” Margaret wanted to know. Everyone had been conversing so eagerly, they’d forgotten the customary yam compliments. Quickly, they began to chime in, making up for lost time. “Oh, they’re absolutely delicious…best I’ve ever had…just perfect…so moist and savory.” Margaret smiled, pleased to have succeeded in her culinary ventures once again.

“What do you say, Mary?” Ted inquired, winking at his daughter mischievously. “Should we clear away these dishes and beat some people at pinochle?”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” she smiled. It was a tradition for Mary and her father to play partners at a few games of pinochle during the holidays.

“I’ll help Mom with the dishes,” volunteered Paula, who wasn’t much for games but liked to keep busy all the same.

“Parker, you wanna partner up for this battle?” Jon proposed.

“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?” At that, Mary and her father shared a knowing glance and a chuckle. They had a reputation of being impressively hard to beat.

“What about me?” Daisy fake pouted. Everyone knew she didn’t play pinochle but still liked to be in on the action.

“You can be in charge of recording bets,” suggested Parker. They all laughed.

A half-hour later, Mary and Ted had been victorious, and Parker and Jon were playing the part of the sore losers. “It’s because I didn’t get to cut the cards that one hand,” emphasized Jon.

“Yeah, we probably would’ve won if it weren’t for that,” agreed his partner.

“Ha!” scoffed Mary. “You guys were over eighty points behind us. Nice try.”

As the guys were taking their lumps and Ted shuffling for a second game, Margaret and Paula were distributing hot cocoas. Daisy had turned on some background Christmas music and was knitting a pair of slipper socks for her shop—they’d been selling like hotcakes. She had a good eye for the mixing of colors that gave them just the right blend of charm and pizzazz.

Laughter echoed as the next pinochle contest ensued, with Ted lamenting the “rotten deal” he’d gotten.

“Perhaps our luck is changing,” quipped Parker hopefully.

“Well, the weather certainly is,” announced the always observant Paula. Margaret looked up from her cooking magazine along with the rest of the group. There was a real blizzard forming outside.

“Margaret, turn on the news, will you?” Ted prompted. “Maybe we can get some idea how bad this thing’s gonna get.” When he said “bad,” it was with enthusiasm. Ted Johnston was an inclement weather fan, and this was just the kind of event he’d been hoping for.

“This could be the biggest blizzard in ten years,” the weatherman declared with regard. “So far it is stranding thousands of travelers at airports and on roadways. Madison could have up to ten inches by tomorrow afternoon if this intensity keeps up.”

Daisy visibly shuddered as a chill, whether actual or suggested, came over her. Ted arose from the table purposefully, setting down his hand for the time being. “I think it may be time to strike up a blaze in the ol’ fireplace.”

Scrappy Saturday: Paper

 Normally for "Scrappy Saturday" I post something crafty--something I've created--but this morning I woke up with a poem forming in my mind about a necessary element in many of my crafted pieces. Since my son left my glue gun at school and I'm out of adhesive for scrapbooking, I decided this "ode to paper," if you will, would be an appropriate avenue for today's blog.

Paper

Thin, wrinkled, tucked away
Holding secrets, ideas, sentiments
Origin of maps, pictures, origami
Patterned, textured, illustrated
Source of inspiration, elation
Fundamental school supply
Cuttable, foldable, able to fly

Smooth, crumpled, commandable
Scripting history, plays, letters
Bedrock of novels, dictionaries, news
Pigmented, styled, painted


Connection to parentage, heritage
Elemental architect armature
Impressionable, moldable, sure

"Fruit of the Spirit" Friday: Keep on Clapping

Yesterday during my prayer time, the Lord said to me, “Samson’s hair was the source of his strength; what is the source of yours?” That made me stop and think for a moment—what is the source of my strength? Then I remembered the words to the famous Bible-based chorus—the joy of the Lord is my strength. It comes from Nehemiah 8.

The people had been listening as the book of the Law was read aloud. Verses 9-10 read: “Then Nehemiah the governor, Ezra the priest and teacher of the Law, and the Levites who were instructing the people said to them all, “This day is holy to the Lord your God. Do not mourn or weep.” For all the people had been weeping as they listened to the words of the Law. Nehemiah said, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.””

The Hebrew word used for “joy” in this Scripture passage is “hedvah,” which is directly connected to Yahweh.  It is the Lord’s joy which strengthens. And why would God have joy? Because He can have fellowship with us. We are not cut off from him—through the blood of Jesus, the veil was torn in two.

I believe that to have the joy of the Lord is to understand, in the depths of our spirits, the enormity of this truth—Jesus made a way for us—He gave his life in order to set us free, and not just temporarily or for a season but free for all eternity! Free to know Him, free to love Him, free to be part of the family of God. We are then free to fix our eyes on Jesus, who “[f]or the joy set before him…endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2b). What was the joy before Him? We were! Our salvation—the work that was finished on Calvary—each one of us—we are His joy!

And because the Spirit of God lives in us, we have access to that joy. When we thank Him for the Cross, we tap into that joy; when we lay our lives down for others—carry their burdens and serve them as Jesus would, we tap into that joy; when we do not take Christ’s gift for granted but instead make our lives a living sacrifice, we tap into that joy. And His Spirit that allows us “to live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28)” becomes a fountain of joy in our lives.

Let’s not keep a cap on that fountain. In order to have the fruit of joy, we must joyfully go about the Lord’s business. Think of a little child’s heart as he or she sings the song “The Joy of the Lord is My Strength.” There is a verse that goes “If you want joy, you must clap for it.” Clapping signifies enthusiasm and celebration. That’s the very spirit Nehemiah was encouraging within the people—it was not a time for mourning. It was time to celebrate all that God had done and His faithfulness to His people. We too are His people—fully bought—and we have no reason to mourn. We serve a risen Lord! Time to clap and keep on clapping.