Mercies In Disguise

(Matthew 25:29) For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not, even that which he hath shall be taken away.  (25:30) And cast ye out the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness: there shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth. 

She planted flowers wherever she lived. My mother loved flowers, understood them, and they responded to her loving hand and rewarded her with copious, multicolored blooms all spring, summer and fall. Once her annuals were planted, she spent her mornings pruning and pulling off old blooms, humming and singing quietly, lost in the joy of nurturing. She knew exactly where to pinch the bud of a geranium to make it produce a double bloom. Otherwise humble petunias were lush and exotic looking. They spilled over in tumbling cascades, huge ruffled masses of dewy, velvety blossoms, no matter how hot or dry the weather. Mother's flowers didn't seem to notice.  

            

Over the years, she kept up the horticultural habits she began as a young woman and continued planting even when she didn't own the house or yard, though her back hurt and her knees were enlarged from arthritis. I always thought it was because she needed the color and gentle beauty of growing things to enliven her often mediocre environments. While this was true, it was only partly so. It wasn't until I was well past having reached adulthood that I understood that she was simply living her most basic philosophy - be a good steward of whatever you have been given - leave it better than it came to you.

You can also say it this way: you will know a grateful heart (a good tree-Matthew 7:18) by the good fruit it bears. 

The moral of the parable of the talents is usually interpreted as, Christians are expected to multiply whatever blessings are given to them. But the story doesn’t address how to recognize a blessing. One servant was given five talents, another only one. In today’s ‘fairness-based’ culture, one might feel sorry for the poor servant who seemed to be shorted. A sympathetic group might form to protest that a great injustice had been done and the poor servant who was not only relieved of his single talent was also thrown into outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Further, one could argue, “but all the poor chap did was hide his talent, he didn’t steal it or refuse to give it back.”

The problem with that childish rationale is that it ignores our Father’s command to bear good fruit, regardless how much or how little one has been given. Only in a self-justified culture will the issue of what a blessing ought to be becomes more important than being grateful for and doing the most good with what one has been given, however small, however unblessing-like it seems to be.

Looking beyond the long accepted moral of the parable of the talents, does it not also speak directly to those who refuse to recognize their blessings? Those who define a blessing as only that which meets their expectations will always miss the blessing in disguise. The danger in not recognizing the blessing is, of course, keeping it buried, insuring the impossibility of it being multiplied and thus ultimately the threat of it being taken away. 

It seems to me there are those who will always rise to God’s expectations of a fruitful, grateful servant. These are the meek who inherit the earth and those to whom much has been given and therefore more is given, even as more is expected of them. This might mean material goods, but more importantly it means spiritual wisdom and humility. Those who are still waiting for the yacht to come so they can finally launch into fruitfulness, ignore the modest dinghy bobbing next to the dock. And so, unfortunately, they end up missing the boat. 

I’m reminded of something a friend once told me about her turning point during her struggle to insist that God speak to her in the way she wanted to hear Him, bless her in the way she wanted to be blessed until finally He said to her, “I will not strive with you forever.”  She claims that the heart-stopping rebuke was the best blessing she ever received because she could see her miserable self through God's eyes, and she surrendered.

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the achings of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise

Lyrics from “Blessings” by Laura Story 

For Christ,

Meema

(Matthew 25:31) But when the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the angels with him, then shall he sit on the throne of his glory:  (25:32) and before him shall be gathered all the nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as the shepherd separateth the sheep from the goats;  (25:33) and he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.  (25:34) Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

Opinion, Fact & Fiction

(Proverbs 10:21) The lips of the righteous feed many; But the foolish die for lack of understanding.  

Opinion is rampant nowadays. Or perhaps it’s simply louder stronger because there are so many more ways to express it. We are inundated daily with opinion. It has come to the point that opinion and one's ‘right to opinion’ has been elevated to the new status of being more important than truth. 

Sometimes we forget that opinion isn’t fact, though.  Instead of exercising a little  discernment we blindly trust the words of one who speaks them well because they sound good while completely ignoring that the speaker’s goal is to keep us under control and accomplishes this by saying only what we want to hear. 

Fact is not opinion and is usually too hard to hear because it pierces through what is false and inflicts painful internal introspection. Who likes that?

Jesus taught in parables. I used to wonder about that but now I think I know why. Human nature is a child that must be given its bitter medicine wrapped in an easier to swallow fiction. The difference between a sweet fiction spoken to keep a  lie from being exposed and a parable is the convicting moral at the end. If there is no moral, it’s probably just another lie. 

So, here’s an old parable for you. Take from it what you will.

For Christ,

Meema

John Godfrey Saxe's [1816-1887] version of the famous Indian legend:

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach'd the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, -"Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he,
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Then, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

Taps

We had the honor of attending the memorial service for LCDR Ira Dozier Hozey, Jr. US Navy (Ret). Mr. Hozey was born in Jersey City, New Jersey. He retired after 25 years of service from the United States navy, having served during both the Korean Conflict and the Vietnam War. He was a member of American Legion Post #120. He was a member of Waynesboro First United Methodist Church and the Home-Hargrove Sunday School Class. He is survived by his wife, eight children, eighteen grandchildren and three great grandchildren.

Born in 1930, Ira enlisted in the Navy when he was just sixteen. His skills and aptitudes landed him in an elite submariner division. He served his country with integrity and after retiring lived the balance of his life in the same manner. Ira Hozey belonged to an era that is rapidly passing along with the men and women who defined patriotism and honor much differently from the modern point of view. 

Ira served his country and lived his life with the unwavering faith that God is in charge. 

Being somewhat numbed by the knowledge of what is now happening to this country, the loss of freedoms won with blood, the decimation of godliness and radical redefining of faith both inside and outside the Church, it takes something really profound to move me to tears. But as we walked from the back, rounding the church to the front, I was taken by surprise when I saw the honor guard standing stoically and suddenly I felt my eyes stinging. The group of aging vets, men and women, who volunteer to attend the last rites of those who valiantly served, stood at attention, each holding an American flag, in the hot Georgia summer sun as memorial attendees entered the church.

I knew that most of those elder vets were probably remnants of the survivors of the Vietnam War, the war that took so many young men and women, who would be my age now if they had not died so prematurely. This is what struck me and caused my eyes to blur with tears. This rag tag collection of my peers, all graying, some with pot bellies and  missing teeth, most standing straight even as arthritis sent pings of pain from old knees and hips, and still they stood, adamant that honor was due and therefore must be given.

At the conclusion of the service a Navy Honor Guard performed a flag ceremony and the sound of a lone bugle played Taps. A deep melancholy surrounded the audience and I was compelled to realize that if ever there was a time to weep for what was once a great notion, it was that moment, as those sad notes filled the sanctuary, echoing forward to now, mourning that which is gone and can never be restored without true faith, integrity and honor–as is defined by God, not man.

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

Fading light, dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar, drawing nigh, falls the night.

Thanks and praise, for our days,
'Neath the sun, 'neath the stars, neath the sky;
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.

Sun has set, shadows come,
Time has fled, Scouts must go to their beds
Always true to the promise that they made.

While the light fades from sight,
And the stars gleaming rays softly send,
To thy hands we our souls, Lord, commend.

For Christ,

Meema

(Colossians 1:12-18) giving thanks unto the Father, who made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light;  (1:13) who delivered us out of the power of darkness, and translated us into the kingdom of the Son of his love;  (1:14) in whom we have our redemption, the forgiveness of our sins:  (1:15) who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation;  (1:16) for in him were all things created, in the heavens and upon the earth, things visible and things invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things have been created through him, and unto him;  (1:17) and he is before all things, and in him all things consist.  (1:18) And he is the head of the body, the church: who is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead; that in all things he might have the preeminence.