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Other than not being able to hug our daughters, the greatest loss I have felt during this time of self isolation is corporate worship. I miss the unity, the feeling of being part of something bigger, something shared.

I have to say it has caused a longing to be with the church like nothing and never before. Truly my soul aches to raise my voice, along with other redeemed sinners, to the

God who created me for this purpose … to worship him.

This ache reminds me of the story behind the worship song Heart of Worship. Matt Redman tells of his pastor’s concern for what worship had become … the style, the volume, the worship leader, the songs.

“People were becoming consumers, instead of bringing an offering (to worship).” Matt Redman

The pastor introduced a worship service that was different … no sound system, no instruments, no plan … just come, with your Bible and whatever you can offer to God.

Out of that season in his church Redman wrote the lyrics to the Heart of Worship.

The other day I read a blog post that had me nodding in agreement with my own experiences of attempts to worship, corporately, from home, while attending the worship service online.

Carolyn Arends writes, in her post Virtual Realities :

“There are barriers to singing corporately over the internet. Maybe that tells us something important. … Right alongside the invitation to innovate (in a season of quarantine) is an invitation to ache – to let absence rekindle a holy fondness in our hearts for the things we’ve taken for granted.”

It is an ache … this holy longing to raise our voices together, physically. Perhaps it is an ache that we have needed to feel … a longing for what might have been missing even before self isolation in this time of Covid 19 … a longing for that which, perhaps for far too long, we have taken for granted … the gift of worshipping our God together, in community.

I find myself longing for that first day that we can, once again, raise, not just our voices, but our hearts as well in worship … to share our unity of purpose.

It makes me think of the chorus of the song, When We All Get to Heaven, written well over a hundred years ago, by Eliza Hewitt :

“When we all get to heaven,
what a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we all see Jesus
we’ll sing and shout the victory.”

If I might be so bold as to re-write those words, for that first corporate worship experience that I (and others) are dreaming of :

When we all get back together
what a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we’re reunited with followers of Jesus
we’ll get a glimpse of eternity.”

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One of my favorite memories of our three from the days when they were still little is that of them wrapped in my arms … not sleeping, not even giggling … just laying in my arms, comfortable, as if they and I were appendages of each other. It felt natural, comfortable, content. It also felt something else …

it felt safe

They were me, me with they … as I held them safely and securely in my arms, close to my heart, I felt the safety that I was exuding to them … and it returned to calm me.

If there is anything about the days of little ones I miss, this is one of the top three experiences.

Years ago, it is said that the following story was told in a National Geographic, after a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park.

“A ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely
on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight,
he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny 
chicks scurried from under their dead mother’s wings. The loving mother, 
keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base
of the tree and had gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing 
that the toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety but had 
refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat had scorched her small body, the mother had remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, that those under the cover of her wings would 
live… “

Psalm 91:4, in the Message translation, tells us :

“His huge outstretched arms protect you—
    under them you’re perfectly safe;
    his arms fend off all harm.”

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I want to be a gold digger.

Not like … a real digger of gold, with a lamp on my head and a pick in my hand … though, maybe …

In my relationships, I want to seek the gold, the good in people. I want to dig further into them, to see the nuggets of the purest gold … that which has been refined through a life of both faithfulness and struggle.

This does not come natural, though. It requires intentional effort, for I am a selfish person, who is titillated by gossip and conspiracy-theories.

Thus, Proverbs 11:27,

anyone can find the dirt
in someone,
be the one who finds
GOLD

Simple to say … not so simple to do.

But, I think that, if we make it a focus, if we are intentional about where we allow our minds, our thoughts about others to go … in other words, if we become gold diggers … we will reap priceless riches.

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This week’s random thoughts was at the top of a friends post on Facebook.

As I read the list of ten … let’s call them the week’s learnings during this time of self isolation in the shadows of Covid19, I heard a song from childhood …

count your blessings

Now, at the end of that week, feeling rather depleted from a week that had a fair number of downs that seem to overshadow the the ups, I am revisiting my friend’s post.

As I look back over the week, this post and two other memories pop out for me.

There is a family that I follow on Instagram. Their beautiful daughter (and their whole family) have been fighting cancer for almost fifteen years (she is about twenty now) … through one diagnosis and three relapses. After over a month of self isolation, they are naming something each day that they are each thankful for.

A sweet teen, who carpooled with me to school (and whose heart and soul I adore), dropped off a belated birthday gift. Part of it was “The One-Minute Gratitude Journal” with spaces to write what I am grateful for each day.

Hum …
Coincidence?
I think NOT!

Saint Augustine (of the late 300s-early 400s) said,

“we are an Easter people
and
alleluia is our song.”

What he was saying is that as people (all people) who have been given the gift of Easter, the gift of the sacrifice of Christ, our song, or message (maybe even to ourselves) need always be praise to the Lord.

To offer thanks is to recognize from where our blessings come. To offer gratitude is to see what we have … even when we are in a place of many have-nots, of depletion, of lack.

And so, I wrote my list, of this week’s random thoughts … thanks. And, you know what, I have much to be thankful for … much for which to sing praises to my Lord … alleluia!

I encourage you to try this too … I’d love to hear from you … what are your random thoughts and thanks this week?

  1. Zoom visit with a dear friend
  2. Daily after work walks with our son
  3. A delivery of a belated birthday gift from the sweetest teenager I know
  4. Able to help my mom accomplish a level of technology
  5. A charcuterie board that looked and tasted wonderfully
  6. Discovering a great new TV series to enjoy with hubby
  7. Conferences with students who have the most amazing work ethics
  8. Sunny days
  9. A bunny hopping leisurely ahead of me while walking on a trail
  10. A church small group who is like oxygen

Count Your Blessings
When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Who couldn’t use a little
Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney
singing Irving Belin’s
Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep?

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I cannot imagine not being able to recognize someone who I love.

Yet, as we read the accounts of people who encountered the risen Jesus, it seems as though they were completely unaware as to who was standing before them.

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord
Open the eyes of my heart
I want to see You

Of course, each of these people, seemingly blinded to the obvious, were also in the depths of despair, sadness, confusion and grief … for the one they so loved had died in such an unfair and violent manner and with him, died their hopes of a Saviour for their people, for themselves, for redemption.

They were mourning and hopeless.

In a sense, their eyes were not yet opened to the fact that, because of the death and resurrection of Jesus :

“you do not grieve like the rest of mankind,
who have no hope”

(1 Thessalonians 4:13)

Because they had not yet seen the resurrected Christ … it was in the seeing … with their eyes and their hearts, that their hope was made real.

I love the story of the two walking along the road to Emmaus with Jesus. It says that the trip from Jerusalem to Emmaus is about seven miles. At some point along the way Jesus himself joins them in their walk. Jesus listens as they tell of the events of the past three days, with great sorrow and hopelessness. Jesus then challenges them, calling them foolish, saying,

“Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” (Luke 24:26).

Then, when they reached the village of Emmaus, they invited Jesus to spend the evening with them.

At the evening meal (how Jesus loved when people gathered around the bread and wine), a miracle occurred :

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” (Luke 24:30-31).

These were not his disciples who had experienced the first communion with Jesus at the last supper. Yet, through the breaking of the bread (his body), their eyes were opened to the truth of who they were dining with … their Savior, the very bread of heaven.

Saint Thomas Aquinas in the 13th century wrote the words to the beautiful hymn, Panis Angelicus … the words, in Latin and English below:

Panis angelicus
Fit panis hominum
Dat panis coelicus
Figuris terminum
O res mirabilis
Manducat dominum
Pauper, pauper
Servus et humilis
May the Bread of Angels
Become bread for mankind;
The Bread of Heaven puts
All foreshadowings to an end;
Oh, thing miraculous!
The body of the Lord will nourish
the poor, the poor,
the servile, and the humble.

It is in the physical element of the bread, the symbol of the body of our Hope, our Redemption, that our eyes can be opened, so that we see with our hearts the truth of who he is … but we have to be willing to take that bread into us, our lives.

this is his body.

broken for you.

take.

eat.


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The day before his death …

and he goes to the garden …

where all things, good and evil, originated.

Today, as we prepare to remember the events leading to the crucifixion of Jesus and subsequent resurrection of our Savior, it is good to spend some time in the garden with him.

When Jesus entered the garden of Gethsemane, he said to his disciples,

“Sit here while I go over there and pray”
(Matthew 26:36)

We are still called to sit … to contemplate … to pray.

Somehow, it is easier to do those things out in nature … and in the beauty of a spring garden, it is as though our souls are drawn not only to the creation, but also the Creator.

Today is the time for reflection, for prayer.

Spend some time today in the garden.

I stay in the garden with Him,
Though the night around me is falling.
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.
And He walk with me and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

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We can be haunted by things that go bump in the night … not just the noises, but the dreams that awaken us with tears, shivers, cold sweats.

It had been a long time since I was awakened by such things that go bump in the night but it’s impact is still felt days later, as a shiver goes up my spine, and my mood is still there … in a funk.

When I am in such a funk I feel more. I feel the hurts and sorrows of others … I understand what it really feels like to carry the burden of others.

As I was trying to shake this funk, the memories of the dream, the bad news of this week (globally, locally, within the lives of people I love) … I remembered that there must be something in my memory of scriptures that had been buried in my heart (from the post, Whatever). But nothing came to mind.

Then the lyrics of a song I had heard earlier in the day began to sing in my head.

“This is what it is to be loved
And to know that the promise was
That when everything fell, we’d be held”

A rather melancholy song, but not one without hope. I had forgotten about a particular line in the song :

“Why should we be saved from nightmares?”

Nightmares, whether in the form of disastrous life experiences, or things that go bump in the night, happen to us all. They are common human experiences … ones that allow us to share in and understand the sorrow of God. They lead us to him and divine human transaction that is his son … who provides the hope of being held.

You have to begin to trust that your experience of emptiness is not the final experience, that beyond it is a place where you are being held in love.”
– Henri J.M. Nouwen (The Inner Voice of Love)

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I have been looking for love …

Ever since self isolation and Toilet Paper Gate, I have been looking for a way to love others through this time of Coronavirus. I thought it might be doing errands for seniors but … it just didn’t read into my heart the way I wanted it to.

Life is so different, for so many right now!

No sports to watch at the arena or bar, no concerts, no movies at the theatres and cinemas, no romantic dinners at restaurants, no vacations, no church services, no coffee dates and, for so, so many, no jobs to go to.

Living in this time of Coronavirus means we have what many of us have wished and dreamed of for so long … free time. What we didn’t hope for was that we would have free time, largely, self isolated in our homes.

If you are like me (an introvert who can fake it if I have to), it was, initially, delightful. I have painted rooms, done a bit of writing, tried new recipes, did a jigsaw puzzle, watched a bit of TV, gone for walks in the sun with the Wonderdog and enjoyed the sound of … silence.

The thing is that even for we who are introverts need to feel we are contributing to someone, something bigger than ourselves and our own desires to feel … healthy, purposeful, alive.

Yesterday, that something (someone) arrived at my heart-level, as I scrolled through social media, in the form of this:

A friend, with whom I attended church a number of years ago had posted the above. Her adult daughter lives with special needs and she (no doubt the whole family) are finding these days long … really long. In this time of Coronavirus, programs are largely cancelled. The events, and day trips, and jobs, socializing and learning (and respite) that help those with special needs to feel that they are healthy, purposeful, alive have been eliminated from their days … which can leave a big hole.

This mom’s plea touched my heart.

Having spent almost seventeen years as an Educational Assistant and two working in group homes for those with special needs, there is a very special place in my heart for those who live with struggles that go well beyond my own … that includes those with special needs and their families who parent on a level beyond the typical.

So, I have now accumulated three young women’s addresses. All three are ladies who live with unique special needs. All three have purpose, gifts and a need to be part of community. These (and, I hope more) will be my new pen pals, and I have no doubt that I will be at least as encouraged and ‘fed’ by these new or renewed relationships, as they will be.

And DO NOT praise me for this … we are all called to love one another … it just happened that God pointed out to me who, and how to love them.

Now, who is he pointing out to you to love during this season of Coronavirus?

“Each of you should look
not only to your own interests,
but also to the interests of others.”

Philippians 2:4

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At every Remembrance Day service in Canada is sung a most hauntingly sad and hopeful song.

 J.R. Watson, who compiled hymns in a number of anthologies, said of the hymn, O God our Help, “this is one of Watts’s greatest hymns on the human condition, setting the shortness of life and the littleness of human beings against the timeless greatness of God…. who has been our help [in the past] and hope [in the future].”

It is a good hymn to sing now … in this time of Coronavirus.

It was written by Isaac Watts, over three hundred years ago! Not only did it have staying power, but it’s message is one of staying power as well.

O God, our help in ages past,
  Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
  And our eternal home.

Home may be beginning to feel a rather eternal location for many these days, but it is our shelter as well, both for us and for those who need us to stay home … for their good.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
  Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
  And our defence is sure.

The shadow present today is not different than in Watt’s lifetime, nor in Moses’, the one who wrote Psalm 90 … the Psalm that this hymn was written after. Psalm 90 was written as a prayer to be prayed daily.

Before the hills in order stood,
  Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
  To endless years the same.

That verse, above, to me is the heart of this song. Near the middle, bringing our attention to the heart of the matter … that, though things can change, ever so much, in our lives, there is a constant, who never changes … the everlasting God.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
  Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
  Before the rising sun.

How fragile and short is life. Our mortality ever whispering to us. Yet, there is One who has always been, who knows eternity.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
  Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
  Dies at the opening day.

More mortality. This verse almost reckons our memories to the meaninglessness of Ecclesiastes’ numerous a time to statements. Really it is just the reminder of the fragility of time, of our time. Our days are not to be wasted.

O God, our help in ages past,
  Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while life shall last,
  And our eternal home.

We come to the end, which is a prompt for us as we look at the remainder of our days. The past, how God has been faithful to us, is our hope for the days to come, be it here on Earth, or in eternity.

“The timeless greatness of God…. who has been our help [in the past] and hope [in the future].” (Watson)

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from the book,
“the boy the mole the fox and the horse
by Charlie Mackesy

Breaking announcements have become common as the red flashes across our screens, as the attention-seeking noise blares from the radio. Closures, limitations, warnings and preparations are rocking our entire world.

“His dominion is an everlasting dominion which will not pass away; And His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed”
– Daniel 7:14

And I sit here, in the early morning hours, when silence is the only volume, and I turn to the window and watch the horizon lighten, ever so slowly. The sun is indifferent to viruses, to pandemics, to troubles … it just does what it was created to do … it rises, every day.

“From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised.”
– Psalm 113:3

And what were we created to do?

praise the name of the Lord …

  • in our prayers
  • in our care for our neighbors
  • in our willingness to self isolate
  • in our reading his word
  • in our flexibility and understanding
  • in our support of the helpers
  • in supporting organizations and businesses that will be impacted
  • in our lifting up of praises in song
  • in our prayers

Lord,
May we be found doing what we were created for … praising you, from the rising to the setting of the sun. May you do what you promised, for us, granting us your peace, no matter the situation we are walking through.
Amen

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
– Hebrews 13:8

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