“They will still yield fruit in old age; They shall be full of sap and very green,” -Ps. 92:14
While retrieving the school sign out front at the end of another school day, my eye was arrested by a yellow flash on the ground in the midst of an otherwise colorless lawn-scape. It was a dandelion stubbornly blooming in the heart of December. I have been thinking about December dandelions ever since. There certainly are not many of them still intent upon lighting up a lawn. This one hugged the earth closely, just barely raising its yellow hand up towards the sky. But there it was, a holdout against winter, a defiant flash of life amidst winter’s grey. Did it not get the word? Such blooms are supposed to go quietly into oblivion this time of year.
I read just last week of an 80 year old woman who also refused to go quietly into the sunset. Another December dandelion. She apparently also did not get the word that old folks are past their prime and need to retire to the sidelines like most sensible persons do. And certainly, she, who knew nothing of Facebook, You-Tube, texting, tweeting, or smart-phones, was obviously a world removed from today’s modern college student. Yet she took it upon herself to begin a letter writing ministry to her church’s college freshmen, away from home for the first time and awash in untold distractions and temptations. She not only wrote them, she wrote them every week. And she prayed. She prayed God’s best for them and that they would find a good church home in their new environment. She looked forward to seeing them at Thanksgiving and Christmas. The result? Church members reported that the “students sought her out and rushed to give her hugs and to say, ‘Thank you,” whenever they came home.” So much for the much ballyhooed generation gap. So much for our constant efforts to shuttle off our church members into age-segregated settings where they can safely relate to their own.
Serious study has shown and demonstrated that this cross generational cross pollination of faith is incredibly important in transferring our beliefs to the second and third generations that follow after us. If our youth do not see faith in action in our lives, woven into the events and values of everyday life, they are much more likely to forsake the faith of their fathers. Putting on a show of faith, going through the motions, does not make a very deep impression. The young usually see through it. But a faith that colors everyday decisions, that confesses mistakes and shortcomings, that deals with temptation and forgiveness in very real terms is a faith that impacts our children and grandchildren in deep and permanent ways.
In this respect, there is always work to be done and a reason for every person, regardless of age, to be on task and mission for God. It is a mission that does not require mobility, financial support, or technological savvy. It simply requires an openness and concern for others, an honesty and transparency to share the important things in life, and the confidence in God that He is still the same today, yesterday, and forever. Our story today is of a grandmother who knew we are all just people in need of God’s touch, regardless of age. It is the story of one who knew there was still work to be done and was willing to do it; willing to be intentionally used by God to touch others.
I remember those days when as a young and lonely freshman, I would eagerly check my college mailbox everyday looking for some connection from home. There were many grey days and weeks when the only mail I found was the college generated junk mail. What would I have given for a touch from a godly grandmother who knew my name and lifted it up in weekly prayer? How much would it have meant to have a December dandelion in my life? A lot. A whole lot. And now that I am entering the December of my life, I pray I do not go quietly. May others still see a flash of yellow amidst the grey. Resolve with me to do likewise.
May the message of God’s mercy and truth be born afresh in us this Christmas,
Mr. Moe
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
My Turn
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth....” Matthew 6:19
‘Tis the season for giving. As quickly as the toy stores can fill my mailbox with catalogs, my children tear them open and mark them up with checks and circles around everything they want, want, want! Usually these items reflect that same character logo that is found on every other toy in our playroom. One thing is certain, advertising sells. One year, my little girl got so hung up on Elmo that it started affecting her behavior. Simply put, Elmo had become the idol of a two year old’s life. So we decided it was time for Elmo to move out. Every toy, coloring book, and sticker was put out of sight. Elmo was soon forgotten. My daughter is older now, and the wish list has changed, but, as with many children, a discontented heart can still be a struggle. It’s not just the kids who get caught in the “gotta have it” trap. Consider the adult who decides to surprise the family with that big screen TV to improve upon football with HD perfection; meanwhile, the spouse is scraping pennies to make the budget work. I am sad to think how such Christmas surprises very may well end up causing more resentment than surprise. The enemy will try to use this holiday for his own agenda - to elicit feelings of selfishness, anger, worry, and discontentment just to name a few. He wants to damage relationships, and this season can be a prime time for him to get the job done.
This year we are doing things a little differently. Presents still will come, large and small, but each one will be thought out. Is this good for nurturing relationships? …Or will this present grow our child’s skill and confidence? …Could this present encourage their walk with Jesus? ...And last, have we bought too much? We often say we want to make Christmas about Christ’s birth, but then, at the end of the day, after tons of wrapping paper gets thrown away and the kids’ eyes are weary from play, we might find it was more about us playing Santa. We might even notice the discontentment on faces when that last gift is uncovered from under the tree. A few weeks ago I laid out all the presents I had bought for my children that have been “in hiding” all year to show my husband. Oh my…there was twice as much there as I had thought. Found at a bargain or not, if we gift all of these things we will surely perpetuate the materialistic attitudes that the Bible warns is not for the good of their character. Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” This Christmas I hope to ‘train up’ contentment, simplicity, good family traditions, and time spent together focused on our Savior. I plan to be intentional to enjoy my family instead of being a grumbling Martha in the kitchen trying to make the perfect recipe of Christmas.
One particular Christmas, prior to having my own family, I traveled home to Atlanta to be with my parents and my sisters’ families. The much expected family dynamics began to unfold. Money was frivolously spent on presents for each other that we really had only wanted ourselves. My parents always bought us something from Sam’s Club, not because we really needed anything from there, but simply because they liked going to Sam’s Club. The kids ferociously unwrapped presents, barely looking at the one in front of them as they eyed the next wrapped box. Overindulgence overcame sense. The day had become more of an obligation than a desire to repeat year after year. After some discussion, we decided to stop buying presents between families for Christmas. We started a new tradition of playing games instead. Christmas was never the same. Agreed unanimously, it was better! The stress of shopping was gone and for the first time on Christmas day our home was filled with laughter. There is nothing like a round of the game, Finish Line, to draw out relationships that are in need of nurturing. We sat together and listened while one read from the Bible the story of Jesus’ birth. One year we even went to a downtown soup kitchen and served food to the poor.
I encourage you to think about what Christmas needs to be this year, not just what you want it to be. You might just feel inclined to send your “Elmo” back to the store. Perhaps you will add your own healthy traditions that will be passed on for generations. Who knows, Daddy just might end up with a donkey sent to a poor family in his name. (But don't tell.)
Molly Clark
Molly is the mother of Lydia Clark, a K4 student at Smithwood. Molly also helps edit our Thursday News on a regular basis.
‘Tis the season for giving. As quickly as the toy stores can fill my mailbox with catalogs, my children tear them open and mark them up with checks and circles around everything they want, want, want! Usually these items reflect that same character logo that is found on every other toy in our playroom. One thing is certain, advertising sells. One year, my little girl got so hung up on Elmo that it started affecting her behavior. Simply put, Elmo had become the idol of a two year old’s life. So we decided it was time for Elmo to move out. Every toy, coloring book, and sticker was put out of sight. Elmo was soon forgotten. My daughter is older now, and the wish list has changed, but, as with many children, a discontented heart can still be a struggle. It’s not just the kids who get caught in the “gotta have it” trap. Consider the adult who decides to surprise the family with that big screen TV to improve upon football with HD perfection; meanwhile, the spouse is scraping pennies to make the budget work. I am sad to think how such Christmas surprises very may well end up causing more resentment than surprise. The enemy will try to use this holiday for his own agenda - to elicit feelings of selfishness, anger, worry, and discontentment just to name a few. He wants to damage relationships, and this season can be a prime time for him to get the job done.
This year we are doing things a little differently. Presents still will come, large and small, but each one will be thought out. Is this good for nurturing relationships? …Or will this present grow our child’s skill and confidence? …Could this present encourage their walk with Jesus? ...And last, have we bought too much? We often say we want to make Christmas about Christ’s birth, but then, at the end of the day, after tons of wrapping paper gets thrown away and the kids’ eyes are weary from play, we might find it was more about us playing Santa. We might even notice the discontentment on faces when that last gift is uncovered from under the tree. A few weeks ago I laid out all the presents I had bought for my children that have been “in hiding” all year to show my husband. Oh my…there was twice as much there as I had thought. Found at a bargain or not, if we gift all of these things we will surely perpetuate the materialistic attitudes that the Bible warns is not for the good of their character. Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” This Christmas I hope to ‘train up’ contentment, simplicity, good family traditions, and time spent together focused on our Savior. I plan to be intentional to enjoy my family instead of being a grumbling Martha in the kitchen trying to make the perfect recipe of Christmas.
One particular Christmas, prior to having my own family, I traveled home to Atlanta to be with my parents and my sisters’ families. The much expected family dynamics began to unfold. Money was frivolously spent on presents for each other that we really had only wanted ourselves. My parents always bought us something from Sam’s Club, not because we really needed anything from there, but simply because they liked going to Sam’s Club. The kids ferociously unwrapped presents, barely looking at the one in front of them as they eyed the next wrapped box. Overindulgence overcame sense. The day had become more of an obligation than a desire to repeat year after year. After some discussion, we decided to stop buying presents between families for Christmas. We started a new tradition of playing games instead. Christmas was never the same. Agreed unanimously, it was better! The stress of shopping was gone and for the first time on Christmas day our home was filled with laughter. There is nothing like a round of the game, Finish Line, to draw out relationships that are in need of nurturing. We sat together and listened while one read from the Bible the story of Jesus’ birth. One year we even went to a downtown soup kitchen and served food to the poor.
I encourage you to think about what Christmas needs to be this year, not just what you want it to be. You might just feel inclined to send your “Elmo” back to the store. Perhaps you will add your own healthy traditions that will be passed on for generations. Who knows, Daddy just might end up with a donkey sent to a poor family in his name. (But don't tell.)
Molly Clark
Molly is the mother of Lydia Clark, a K4 student at Smithwood. Molly also helps edit our Thursday News on a regular basis.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Rejoicing in goodness
“let thy priests, O LORD God, be clothed with salvation, and let thy saints rejoice in goodness.” -2 Chron. 6:41
What does a volunteer firemen’s fundraising dinner, a day at Dollywood, and a Christmas choral concert have in common? All three represent a picture, in part, of what’s right with the world.
We were overnight in Walden Creek, Tennessee, (population: 50 something?) and didn’t feel like going in to town for dinner. A large sign was set out just down the road promising in big letters a home cooked meal and auction as a fundraising event for the local fire hall. We bit. At the appointed time, the place was packed. Food was in abundance, and dinner was a great deal, just $8.00. This group of volunteers had been cooking 200 pounds of turkey and fixings all day. Home-made desserts covered two tables. A local musical group of middle aged men were playing guitars making some pleasant enough music, easily pleased with themselves. I scanned the rows of lockers and fire hats adorning the long wall. Each one represented a man who took his place in the line out of a sense of pride and honor. Volunteer firemen; must be a rare breed. The ladies who supported them by baking cakes and cookies and serving up 200 pounds of turkey certainly must come from good stock as well. Listening to conversation at the table revealed a local politician who just loved to work the crowd out of a genuine love for God, country, and Walden Creek. There was little other apparent reason for seeking office in such a place. Another was a retired man who had come to find his truest and best calling in life working in a nearby home for special needs children. It was small-town community life at its best; men and women coming together to work for the good of all. It kind of made me proud to be an American again.
Just a few weeks earlier, there was this special day at Dollywood. Dollywood is a slick package of commercial kitsch at its worst, but on the other hand it holds up and embraces so much that is good, even if it is pretend for just a day. Families stroll together hand in hand making a memory for their children or even grandparents. This is not a place where rebels, drunks, and the wild folk would even want to come. It is all about roller coasters and funnel cakes and carved baseball bats; good stuff where kids of all ages can come free of embarrassment. Talent, skills, and crafts are all showcased to inspire us to maybe create or achieve something lasting, something beautiful, something of value, all by ourselves. Costumes took us back to a time when clothes were worn to connote station and to please others. The fun came in small, clean packages of rides and cotton candy and ice cream all without the greasy, carny types who look like sinister, tattooed, fugitives from justice. The hired help were actually helpful. The gospel music flowed freely, without stricture or embarrassment, and pulsed with joy. This was life as it could be, should be; except, of course, for the high priced lunches.
And this week, the area Home School Christmas choir concert put on by 60 young men and women showed yet another picture of life as it could be, should be. The songs poured forth in rich variety demonstrating the incredible abundance of artistic and musical fascination with the story of Christmas over the centuries. Every land, every era has produced musical praise in majestic and memorable manner; all taken by the amazing advent of God in flesh. And that is as it should be. It is impossible to sing these songs of Zion and be mad at the world, or your neighbor. Beautiful as well was the sight of young men and young women, acting in concert, complimenting each other in bold unison or subtle harmony. No room for gender animosities or exploitive manipulation here. Peace reigned as all were held thrall to a director’s lead, a clue for how to find peace when all follow after the Master’s will. And just to have a concert is proof that the world is temporarily, anyway, safe for the arts that warm the soul but serve no real, practical purpose.
In a world gone sour in so many ways, isn’t it grand we can still catch glimpses of the image of God in his goodness in day to day existence? May we keep looking for it, and find it, and cherish it.
Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe
What does a volunteer firemen’s fundraising dinner, a day at Dollywood, and a Christmas choral concert have in common? All three represent a picture, in part, of what’s right with the world.
We were overnight in Walden Creek, Tennessee, (population: 50 something?) and didn’t feel like going in to town for dinner. A large sign was set out just down the road promising in big letters a home cooked meal and auction as a fundraising event for the local fire hall. We bit. At the appointed time, the place was packed. Food was in abundance, and dinner was a great deal, just $8.00. This group of volunteers had been cooking 200 pounds of turkey and fixings all day. Home-made desserts covered two tables. A local musical group of middle aged men were playing guitars making some pleasant enough music, easily pleased with themselves. I scanned the rows of lockers and fire hats adorning the long wall. Each one represented a man who took his place in the line out of a sense of pride and honor. Volunteer firemen; must be a rare breed. The ladies who supported them by baking cakes and cookies and serving up 200 pounds of turkey certainly must come from good stock as well. Listening to conversation at the table revealed a local politician who just loved to work the crowd out of a genuine love for God, country, and Walden Creek. There was little other apparent reason for seeking office in such a place. Another was a retired man who had come to find his truest and best calling in life working in a nearby home for special needs children. It was small-town community life at its best; men and women coming together to work for the good of all. It kind of made me proud to be an American again.
Just a few weeks earlier, there was this special day at Dollywood. Dollywood is a slick package of commercial kitsch at its worst, but on the other hand it holds up and embraces so much that is good, even if it is pretend for just a day. Families stroll together hand in hand making a memory for their children or even grandparents. This is not a place where rebels, drunks, and the wild folk would even want to come. It is all about roller coasters and funnel cakes and carved baseball bats; good stuff where kids of all ages can come free of embarrassment. Talent, skills, and crafts are all showcased to inspire us to maybe create or achieve something lasting, something beautiful, something of value, all by ourselves. Costumes took us back to a time when clothes were worn to connote station and to please others. The fun came in small, clean packages of rides and cotton candy and ice cream all without the greasy, carny types who look like sinister, tattooed, fugitives from justice. The hired help were actually helpful. The gospel music flowed freely, without stricture or embarrassment, and pulsed with joy. This was life as it could be, should be; except, of course, for the high priced lunches.
And this week, the area Home School Christmas choir concert put on by 60 young men and women showed yet another picture of life as it could be, should be. The songs poured forth in rich variety demonstrating the incredible abundance of artistic and musical fascination with the story of Christmas over the centuries. Every land, every era has produced musical praise in majestic and memorable manner; all taken by the amazing advent of God in flesh. And that is as it should be. It is impossible to sing these songs of Zion and be mad at the world, or your neighbor. Beautiful as well was the sight of young men and young women, acting in concert, complimenting each other in bold unison or subtle harmony. No room for gender animosities or exploitive manipulation here. Peace reigned as all were held thrall to a director’s lead, a clue for how to find peace when all follow after the Master’s will. And just to have a concert is proof that the world is temporarily, anyway, safe for the arts that warm the soul but serve no real, practical purpose.
In a world gone sour in so many ways, isn’t it grand we can still catch glimpses of the image of God in his goodness in day to day existence? May we keep looking for it, and find it, and cherish it.
Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe
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