A joyful noise

     "Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!  Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into His presence with singing!  Know that the the Lord, He is God!  It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.  Enter His gates with thanksgiving, and His courts with praise! Give thanks to Him, bless His name!  For the Lord is good; His steadfast love endures forever, and His faithfulness to all generations."  Ps.100
      School has started--and trumpet practice has begun.  We are making all kinds of "joyful NOISE to the Lord" around our house these days.  And believe me, with a first-time trumpet player, noise is the operative word... but it is joyful!  Aren't you thankful God didn't instruct us to make a perfect, harmonious sound to the Lord?  Or a well-practiced, pleasing song to the Lord?  Or a "get-it-all-together and then come before the Lord of Lords with your ideal, flawless performance of ultimate beauty?
     Nope--He just says, essentially, "Bring it on!"  Bring on your noise of clanging symbols or off-key singing or ear-splitting strange-sounding trumpet blowing--as long as it's with a joyful heart offered to the King of Kings.  He's not interested in our perfect performance but in our praise-filled heart.  He doesn't care if we enter His gates all fancy and gussied up --only that we enter with gratitude.  It's not about how we sound or look--it's about hearts overflowing with thankfulness to the One who saved us and loves us with an everlasting love.
     And it's not about how well we behave or how much we accomplish or how well we measure up--it's about His grace and goodness towards us.  And in Him, we more than measure up--because it's all about our perfect Savior and not our perfect performance.  It's not about us doing, doing, doing and trying harder.  It's about what He has DONE and finished on our behalf on the cross.  So we can rest in Him and His redemptive work on our behalf... and be grateful.
     Because "It is finished" and because of all we have and are in the Lord Jesus, we can truly "make a joyful noise to the Lord" and "come into His presence with singing!"  How can we not enter His presence filled with thanksgiving?!   Don't worry about perfection.  Forget about getting it all together before coming before Him.
     Just come.  Come with thanksgiving.  Come messy, come disorganized, come singing off-key... but just come.  Come with a song in your heart to the One who has always always always had you on His heart and who died so that you might come to Him and be with Him forever.  For He is good and "His steadfast love endures forever and His faithfulness to all generations."   He will forever be faithful--despite our unfaithfulness and our failures.
     So make a joyful noise to our faithful, forever loving Lord today.  Come before Him with blasting trumpet, if necessary, but come with a thankful, surrendered heart.  To God be the glory.
   

No cake... but love!

     The cake is all gone.
     Seriously, that entire, big, beautiful Edible Art cake is completely gone--in less that 24 hours.  The Fountains are like a ravenous horde of locusts... at least when it comes to cake.  Here today and gone, well, today.  I'm sad--only had one piece.  Sigh.  But life will surely provide more occasions worthy of celebration--losing a tooth, starting school, studying for a test, taking the test, folding a huge load of laundry or unloading all the groceries.  You just have to get creative when it comes to celebrating life, with cake, of course!
     But looking at the forlorn crumbs left from the decimated cake plate reminds me again of the beautiful brevity of life.  Our oldest daughter has already returned to Charlotte.  Our son leaves in a few days for college.  Our dog, Moses, remains at a  heightened state of alert due to the suitcases accumulating in the hall.  He hates suitcases, because they mean someone is leaving... and he doesn't want to get left behind.  I know the feeling.  This children growing up and leaving home stuff is totally for the birds.  How I want to grasp them all tightly and just keep them right here with us always--only without all the laundry and messy rooms--to laugh and share and grow and celebrate life.
     That option does not, however, seem to be on the table.  So in the meantime, we rejoice in the moments we have.  We laugh, we talk, we learn, we cry, we play, we work, we love.  And we eat cake, because life must be celebrated with those you love.  Lord, help us to treasure every second of this crazy, challenging adventure.  And Father, might not one hour pass without us reminding those we love, whether in words or actions, that we LOVE them!  We have forever in heaven, praise God, but we have only a few short years on this planet in which to love sacrificially and fully those the Lord has placed in our lives.
     Help us to love, Lord.  To love You first and foremost and then to love others.  "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12)  And Jesus tells us this is the mark of a Christian--how they love.   "By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)  O might others know we are Christians by the way we love--exuberantly, fully, sacrificially, joyfully.  Might we love not just in words but in actions.  Might we love based not upon emotion, but based upon our Savior's example and enabling power.
       Lord Jesus, teach us and help us--by the power of Your Holy Spirit--to love as You loved.  Give us more love, Lord.  To God be the glory.

Celebrate with cake!

     Happy Birthday, May May (our 23 year old--which means her mom and dad are old as dirt)!  And this, my friends, is a picture of pure bliss--Edible Art almond birthday cake.  Life is good.  Very very good... especially when it involves cake of any kind.  "Oh taste and see that the Lord is good!  Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him." (Ps.34:8)  Life is short and deserves to be celebrated--and our God is so good.  Might we rejoice in Him and His gifts.  Preferably with lots and lots of cake.
     We have had the joy of having all our children home this weekend.  Our oldest daughter is here from Charlotte so we can all celebrate her birthday, and our oldest son is still home until next week when he returns to college.   Who could have dreamed but a few years ago when our home seemed like constant chaos and clutter (okay, it still does), children were everywhere, and the days never seemed to end with all the soccer games and basketball practices and golf matches and singing concerts that we would soon bemoan our children having grown up and moved away to college and work?  But it happened all too soon.  We thank the Lord that we still have three at home, but those days are growing ever shorter as well.  It's so true: "The days are long but the years are short."  
     So right now, we rejoice in having them all home!   For all the trouble and work and exhaustion, children truly are our greatest gifts and treasures.  How we thank the Lord for each of them! An old Amish proverb reminds us: "Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see."   Might they bring God glory as they share His message of love and redemption and grace into the distant future.
     Today, celebrate God's goodness to you in the people He has graciously placed in your life--your spouse, your children, your siblings, your parents, your friends.  "O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;  For His lovingkindness is everlasting." (IChron.16:34)  "...in everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (I Thess. 5:18)  Find someone, find something for which to give thanks to the King of Kings and the Giver of all good gifts... and then celebrate, preferably with cake!  Remember, we are to "taste and see that the Lord is good!"  There's a verse you can sink your teeth into!  To God, our joyous Lord, be all the glory.

Planted by the Living Water

     "Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked... but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.  He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in season, and its leaf does not wither.  In all he does he prospers." (Ps.1:1-4)
    We read these words this morning before my youngest child's first day of school, and, of course, my mind meandered back to Cane River (sorry, just one more time!).  I recalled all the lush green trees and bushes hanging on the edge of the rushing stream and couldn't help but pray: "O Lord, might we be continually saturated by Your enabling, powerful, perfect Presence like those verdant, well-waterd trees growing beside Cane River."  We never saw any dead, shriveled trees up there--or at least any trees dead due to drought or moisture loss.  Nothing brown or dried-up or desperate looking--unlike our yard which seems to continually and futilely cry out for water.  Just deep, rich green trees and bushes and shrubs lining the flowing, life-giving waters of the stream.
     God tells us in Psalm 1 that we can be like those continually well-fed trees when we meditate on His Word day and night.  His Word brings us solace in our sorrows, calm in our chaos, strength in our weakness, hope in our anxiety, wisdom in our confusion, perspective in our perplexities, and light in our darkness.
     Jesus promised that "whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.  The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14)  He provides all that we need; He is all that we need.  And in His Word we are nourished and satiated and satisfied fully, richly, perpetually.
     His Word truly is a continual feast for our thirsty souls, if we will but come to Him and drink.  Might we choose to be planted by His Living Water so that we will be like those well-watered, flourishing trees.
     But I need  to add that life for those trees growing by Cane River is far from easy.  The winters are extraordinarily harsh and long high up there in the mountains.  The snow storms fierce, the winds bitter and biting, the temperatures frigid,  the warm sun and gentle summer temperatures a distant memory come the lonely wintertime.
     Being planted by the stream does not exempt the trees--or us--from life's fierce and sometimes frightening storms. Yet, in the midst of the storms, the trees are anchored deeply and safely by the nourishing waters.  They remain strong while trusting, waiting, knowing that with spring's renewal, God will make all things new.
     And He always does.  Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day.
     And He will for us as well... even in the midst of our seemingly impossible and relentless storms.  His Word remains our constant, never-failing, life-giving Stream.
      So while the storms rage, we wait and trust and stay anchored in His Word.  And when the summer sun returns, we rejoice and revive and grow.  Whatever our circumstances, when we are planted by His Living Water,  He feds us with His wisdom and peace and power and love and joy and grace flowing from His supernatural Word. Summer or winter, spring or fall, His Word never fails and always feeds.   Go to the River and be fed and fortified.  As one of my favorite songs puts it:

Holy words long preserved
For our walk in this world,
O let the ancient words impart
Courage, peace, a loving heart.

Words of Life, words of Hope
Give us strength, help us cope
In this world where ere' we roam
Ancient words will guide us home.

Ancient words, ever true
Changing me, and changing you.
O let the ancient words impart
A moving, quick incisive dart.

     He waits for you even now in His Ancient Word, ever true, ever new.  Go bath in His waters and be refreshed and renewed and restored.  To our Living Water, our great God, be all the glory.

Fishing and slowing down

     Our intrepid group of trout fisherpersons from Cane River.  Thank goodness we took this photo right before we braved the streams for the first time.  If we had a picture from later this same day, you would have seen a group of filthy, soaking wet, bruised, tired yet happy campers!  But at this point, we were still lookin' good and feeling hopeful that we might catch some rainbow trout (and throw them all back, of course) and escape unscathed from multiple falls on the slippery rocks.  Well, one out of two ain't bad!
     I just read the following by Ann Voscamp: "Life is not an emergency.  Life's a gift.  Just slow."  And "Sometimes the slowest way is the fastest way to joy.  Make time today, even a moment, to read Scripture and memorize it.  Without the lens of His Word, the world warps.  {Slowest=fastest to joy}"
     This reminded me of fishing.. and perhaps that is the reason so many people love to fish.  Because, believe me, fishing can be sloooooow.  Trout fishing is a bit different since you are constantly moving and climbing and hiding behind rocks, but still, even trout fishing requires inordinate amounts of patience.  Turns out these rainbow and brook trout are remarkably brilliant creatures and can spot us lumbering upstream a mile away.  They laugh at us as we make casts with out little trout flies landing gently on the rushing stream.  And they rarely, and I mean rarely, actually strike the fly.  Most of the time you just cast and cast and lumber along and fall and slip and stumble and cast some more... while the fish all just laugh and laugh. I'm glad we can entertain them.
     Yep, fishing requires patience and the gift of slowing down.  If you try to move quickly on the slippery rocks, you can just forget it--you are going down... hard.  So you have to climb carefully and slowly and deliberately.  And with that slower pace you just can't help but drink in the incredible beauty all around you.  At every turn, a new vista of God's untamed glory--all to be seen and savored sloooowly.

          Why do I live my life as if everything is an emergency?  Why do I always feel as if I have to rush and hurry... and as a result, worry?  O Lord, slow us down to see and savor You and Your gifts to us each and every moment of every day.  In my haste, I miss the blessings of the small--the butterfly alighting on my book, the twinkle in a child's eye, the chorus of a beloved song, the sublime taste of chocolate lingering on my tongue, the sound of rushing water, the laughter and stories shared with my siblings, the hug of my husband, the clean, green scent of the woods, the whirring sound of hummingbird wings, the joy of reading God's Word and discovering His words just for you that day, the sound of a loved one's voice, the stars piercing the inky black sky, the crashing thunder that shakes the house, the joy of reading to my little guy at night, the smile on a teenager's face (yes, they actually can smile and the view is awesome!), the glint of sunlight on the leaves.
     How much do we miss every day in our haste and hurry?  Forgive us Father, and slow us down.  Like the fisherman patiently plumbing the depths of Your rushing waters, show us how to savor the journey rather than constantly rushing to reach the destination.  I don't want to miss the blessings You have for us along the way--all the surprises planned and planted along the path by our Sovereign Heavenly Daddy.  Help us not to miss them, Father, and remind us to be grateful.  Might we live this day seeing, savoring, and saying thank You.   To our gift-giving God be all the glory.

Behold the man!

     "So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe.  Pilate said to them, 'Behold the man!'"
     I had just read these words in the predawn darkness this morning before I went out for a walk in the town where I grew up, Greensboro, NC.  My 15 year old son, Preyer, and I stayed here overnight, because he's playing here in a golf tournament (what else?).  I went for a walk around the neighborhood while those words, "Behold the man!  Behold the man!  Behold the man!" kept ringing in my ears.
     I thought back to the evening before, just 8 hours earlier, when Preyer had finished his first round in the tournament at Bryan Park in Greensboro.  Bryan Park features two spectacular public golf courses as well as some of the best soccer fields in the state.  It is a beautiful, peaceful tree-covered locale that is green and quiet.  But I wondered if any of the boys or girls playing in this tournament had any idea for whom the park is named.  I seriously doubt it.  And that is shameful.
     A great gentleman named Joe Bryan gave the money and provided the impetus for this lovely, world-class park.  All the competitors playing in the tournament had a meeting last night in a building on the park grounds that features a bronze statue of Joe Bryan with a plaque describing his remarkable life and extraordinary philanthropy.   While growing up in Greensboro, our family knew this fine old gentleman--in fact, I'm sure everyone either knew him or knew of him as he was a man of incredible influence and respect.   Both Joe Bryan and his wife passed away many years ago, but I still remember them well.
     When my son came out of the meeting, I practically dragged him over to the statue to tell him about the man who had made this whole place possible.  "He's the reason you are playing here!  He's the reason there are beautiful golf courses and practice ranges and soccer fields here.  You need to know about him!"  Of course, he had never heard of him, and I can say with virtual certitude that none of the other boys or girls in the tournament had either.   I wanted to run right into the meeting and shout to them: "Do you know why you can play here?  Let me tell you about Joe Bryan!"  Fortunately for my son, I restrained myself.  I already embarrass him enough simply by breathing.
     Such is fame and fortune and success and even respect in our world--fleeting, temporary, here today and forgotten tomorrow.  Every person reading this right now will be gone in less than 100 years... or 50... or less.  The most famous and successful among  us will one day perhaps be names on plaques at parks or athletic facilities or college buildings, and that is great.  But the people behind those names, the stories of their lives and accomplishments and who they really were, well, that will all be unknown and unrecognized.  Past all recollection except to their families and the people they loved most deeply.
     But towering above history's wreck of names, great or ignoble, good or evil, powerful or weak,  stands One who is the hinge of history.  All must one day confront Him and decide either to believe or to reject.   For over two thousand years, the great call of the ages has been: "Behold the man!"  Look at Him, behold Him in His Word and decide whether to believe like His tiny band of disciples or reject like the masses and the powerful religious elite of His day.
     But choose wisely for all of eternity rests upon your decision.
     Behold the infant born in a manger.  Behold the Great Physician healing the desperate and defeated.  Behold the Teacher encouraging and guiding and leading.  Behold the Suffering Servant, beaten and bruised, giving His life for each of us.  Behold the Risen Savior--resurrected from the grave to new life and new hope and victory over sin and death.
     And behold the Lord who will one day come again in unimaginable glory and power--and at whose presence every knee in the universe will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.
     Behold the Man.  Behold the Lord.  And believe.
     And know that with believing, you will live forever and ever and ever with Him, in glory.  Never forgotten, never forsaken.  Never just an unremembered name.  But alive and loved and redeemed forever--the abundant, joyous, glorious Life with a capital "L."
     Might we each this day, "Behold the Man!"  Throughout our lives, throughout our days, throughout our hours of every day, Father, help us to behold You and believe, and in believing, live abundantly and joyously to Your glory.
   Behold and believe.   To the Man, to the God, to our Savior, be all the glory.

Supernatural Signature

     Well, we arrived back home to the heat and the busyness and the laundry and the back to school emails and the disorganized house and the stacks of mail... and I think all the noise and mess and urgent urgent urgent needs caused me to forget.  Forget the glory of God on full display at our old log cabin nestled beneath the peaceful gaze of Mt. Mitchell.  Caused me to forget the joy of laughing and sharing and fishing and eating with my irreplaceable brothers and sisters and husband and children and nephews and nieces.  Caused me to forget the peace of crystalline pools of water or dense groves of rhododendron and birch and poplar and beech trees.
     Caused me to forget the power and the wonder of furiously rushing waters, tumbling waterfalls, spilling gallons and gallons of pure water every second, day and night.  Caused me to forget that all that water reflected the real  Living Water--ever flowing, ever filling, ever refreshing, ever satisfying.  His Living Water, like the splashing, swirling, ever-flowing Cane River: always more than enough, always powerful beyond our comprehension, yet also always peaceful and pure and perfect.
       Forgive me Father, that it takes so little to throw me off kilter, weighted with frustration and worry over all I have to do.  Forgive me for forgetting Your glory.  I once heard God's glory described as His "supernatural signature."  When we witness the overwhelming beauty of the ocean or the mountains or the stars, it's His supernatural signature.  His signature that shouts, "God is real!  God is real!  God is powerful!  God is good!  Look and see His glory reflected in His creation!"
     "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaim His handiwork.  Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge." (Ps.19:1-2)
     Yesterday evening, our last hurrah before returning home the next morning, we had been out fishing and hiking all day.  Despite the beauty all around us, we were whipped!  Supper was calling and sore muscles from several days of multiple falls on slippery rocks, long hikes in soggy boots, coupled with old age, had conspired to cause us to be ready to start hiking back down the rocky, dirt road.. or at least for my husband and me!  But we were with two of our children who really wanted to hike just a little higher up so they could see up close the huge "Upper Blue Sea" waterfalls.  My husband and I figured we could see it from where we were, and we feared they were so  tired that any more climbing and slipping and crawling up the huge boulders would result in some terrible fall or a broken bone.  Nope, we insisted, we need to head on back down now.  The view from down below was still great, we insisted (that's it in the picture above--you can just see the big waterfall in the far background between the trees), and it was infinitely safer.  They were crushed, but started back down with us.
     But sometimes, thankfully, God speaks in that still small voice, and even more thankfully, sometimes we listen and heed His good word.
     As we started hiking back down, we suddenly paused and said, "Okay, go for it."  Just like that, our children turned around excitedly and practically ran back up the path.  My husband and I, on the other hand, trudged, slightly irritated and tired, but up we went.
       We climbed through impossibly thick and tangled rhododendron, clung onto protruding roots, slide along slimy rocks and tried not to kill ourselves.  We came out muddy and gasping through the brush and saw:

     God's supernatural signature.
     Sometimes His choicest gifts require time and sacrifice and effort.  Sometimes we just have to say no to our to do lists and our schedules and our chores and our worries and just go a bit higher, dig a bit deeper and trust that He has something better for us on the other side of our discomfort or fear or sorrow or struggle.  Sometimes joy is just on the other side or just around the bend or just up ahead... but you have to be willing to endure the pain to get there.
     But, boy, is it worth it.  I will never forget that wondrous moment of feeling the mist from the powerfully tumbling waters and watching the unmitigated joy on the faces of my children and seeing close-up and firsthand the glory of God.   He is worth it every single time.
     So wherever you are, keep hiking, keep going,  keep trying, keep trusting.  His glory is just ahead.  To God be the glory.