Are you "no earthly good"?

I was reading a column on WND this morning entitled "Think a cell phone can save you? Think again" in which the author discusses amateur radio and the need for alternative communications under emergency conditions.

Among the spirited and intelligent comments posted after the article, someone rudely elbowed in and proclaimed, "Think a cell phone will save you? Think again only JESUS can save you from eternal Damnation."

Um, yeah. We all know that. But the author wasn't talking about eternal damnation, he was talking about amateur radios. Get a grip, fella.

See, this underscores one of my pet peeves when it comes to preparedness. There are those who, as the old saying goes, are so heavenly-minded they're no earthly good.

These are the types of people who claim they don’t need to be prepared because “God will provide.” Despite my total belief in God’s mercy and providence, I confess I have no patience with those who refuse to lift a finger toward their own physical safety or survival on the grounds that the Almighty will supply them with whatever they need. I’ve actually heard some people say with a straight face that they have no need to prepare because they’ll be raptured up before things get really hairy.

No offense, folks, but that’s about the stupidest contingency plan I’ve ever heard. In November 2015 when we had a massive region-wide power failure after a huge windstorm, nobody was raptured but a lot of people were very, very cold and miserable. It was a time we were profoundly grateful to be prepared.

Disruptive natural phenomena happen all the time. And it’s for these types of events that everyone must prepare according to their means and abilities.

J.G. Holland said, “God gives every bird its food but does not throw it into the nest.” Right now, God has blessed us with an abundance of goods and services in this country, but He isn’t throwing free groceries into our cart. Nor do any of us expect (I hope) to open our kitchen cupboards in the morning and find them magically filled overnight by Divine providence. It’s up to us obtain those groceries, not God.

Or, as one reader put it, “I have told the ‘God will supply’ people not to show up on my doorstep when things get tough because ‘I’ am not their God.”

It’s essential to place one’s trust in God, but to assume He will behave in accordance with our interpretation of what we want Him to do is foolish beyond belief. If you fold your hands and refuse to help yourself because of your sincere belief that God will give you full pantries when times get tough, then that’s slothful. It smacks of arrogance. You’re expecting Him to do the work he commands you to do.

I truly believe God expects us to prepare to meet the challenges inherent in life: natural disasters, terrorist attacks, economic downturns, and other natural or manmade calamities. In addition to our physical preparedness, we all need spiritual preparedness for comfort, focus, and protection.

But to do one without the other – to prepare our souls but not our earthly lives to meet physical challenges – is shortsighted and incomplete.

The Bible is absolutely chock-full of advice for a preparedness mindset, and it exhorts us not to be foolish, slothful, or ignorant. Everything from the stories of Noah or Joseph in Genesis, throughout Proverbs, up to and including Jesus’s Parable of the Ten Virgins, urges people to be vigilant and to keep their lamps lit.

And yet there is a certain subclass of people who won’t do this because, after all, God will provide. No one argues faith is an integral part of prepping; but to make it your sole and exclusive contingency plan is not only stupid, but highly unbiblical as well.

Just some thoughts on a snowy day as we split firewood for warmth, thank a neighbor for plowing our road and driveway, and wait for spring when we can become active in the garden.

The black dot

Reader Ken sent the following. I normally don't go for the feel-good quasi-philosophical pieces roaming around the internet, but I liked this one.

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The Black Dot

One day the professor entered the classroom and asked his students to prepare for a surprise test. They all waited anxiously at their desks for the exam to begin.

The professor handed out the exams with the text facing down, as usual. Once he handed them all out, he asked the students to turn over the papers.

To everyone’s surprise, there were no questions – just a black dot in the center of the sheet of paper.

The professor, seeing the expression on everyone’s faces, told them the following: “I want you to write about what you see there.”

The students, confused, got started on the inexplicable task.

At the end of the class the professor took all the exams and started reading each one of them out loud, in front of all the students.

All of them, with no exception, defined the black dot, trying to explain its position in the center of the sheet.

After all had been read, the classroom silent, the professor started to explain.

“I’m not going to grade you on this, I just wanted to give you something to think about. No one wrote about the white part of the paper. Everyone focused on the black dot – and the same happens in our lives.

“We have a white piece of paper to observe and enjoy, but we always focus on the dark spots.

“Our life is a gift given to us by God, with love and care, and we always have reasons to celebrate – nature renewing itself every day, our friends around us, the job that provides our livelihood, the miracles we see every day…

“However we insist on focusing only on the dark spot – the health issues that bother us, the lack of money, the complicated relationship with a family member, the disappointment with a friend.

“The dark spots are very small when compared to everything we have in our lives, but they’re the ones that pollute our mind.

“Take your eyes away from the black dots in your life. Enjoy each one of your blessings, each moment that life gives you. Be happy and live a life filled with love.”

_________________________________________

I suppose this would be a good time to examine our black dots and, more importantly, our white papers.

Seeing my soul

When I was a little girl, I had definite ideas of what a soul looked like. I was convinced it was like a pearly-white opalescent bubble about two inches across that resided someplace in the body, probably near the esophagus or something. Despite its fragile appearance, it had to be tough… tough enough to handle all the iniquities people do during the course of their life. Yet it was also supposed to be a thing of indescribable unearthly beauty.

Funny to peek into the imagination of a child, isn’t it?

Fast forward a few decades. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a random comment on an article in which the commenter was discussing the end of the world. I glanced with disinterest through the comment until one line arrested my vision and stopped me in my tracks. The line read, “All the populations of the world will be able to see their souls for a period of time...”

Whoa.

I don’t remember the context of this line, but the notion is scary. What would it be like, to see my soul? To actually see it? To see, in graphic detail, all the ugly horrible thoughts and actions I’ve had and done? All the forgotten misdeeds and nasty thoughts and snarky moments? I have a strong feeling my soul wouldn’t be pearly and opalescent.

I like to pretend I’m a pretty decent person – I haven’t robbed any jewelry stores lately – but it’s a human characteristic to ignore the bad stuff about ourselves and just remember the good. We all have thoughts, words, and deeds that are damning, but we’ll go merrily through life pretending that the things “done and left undone” don’t matter in the overall scheme of things. We’re all pretty decent people in our own eyes, right? It’s not like we’ve robbed any jewelry stores, right?

But everything is recorded on our soul. Every little transgression, every witchy thought or piece of gossip that escapes our lips, every person we ignore because we don’t want to be bothered, every insult we lob at our spouse or kids, every piece of gum wrapper we toss aside instead of using a trash can – everything, no matter how large or small – are recorded on that pure, pearly bubble. There’s no hiding from it. And that opalescent bubble gets dirtier and dirtier.

Since reading that line, the image of seeing my soul has haunted me. It’s a frightening thought. After all, what is my life but a pile of filthy rags? If I had the ability to pluck that pearly opalescent bubble out of my chest right now and look at it, how tarnished and dirty would it be? Far from being a pure and spotless thing, it would be ugly and stained with my many transgressions. In short, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

But then I remembered something. Maybe my soul isn't terribly ugly. I remembered that every time I earnestly seek forgiveness, that ugly tarnished bubble is wiped clean and pure once more. Again and again and again. Whenever I ask, that gift is freely given. Wow. It’s like ultra strong Formula 409 – it wipes off the grease and scrubs off the stains and makes things shiny.

After all, what would our bodies be like if we never took a bath? At the end of a week we’d be pretty stinky. By the end of a month, no one would want to be in the same room with us. What would we be like if we hadn’t bathed in a year, or ten years, or for our whole life? Ewwww.

That’s how I see our souls. If we don’t “bathe” our souls in the blood of the lamb, they get dirtier and dirtier, dusty and tarnished, filthy and ugly. If we don’t “bathe” them for a week, they’re pretty stinky. By the end of a month, those pearly bubbles would be greasy and rank. By the end of a year, or ten years, or a lifetime, they’d be horrifically ugly, blackened with filth, and frankly revolting.

But that good ol’ celestial Formula 409 works every time. One squirt – one sincere and heartfelt prayer – and that opalescent bubble can shine forth once more, clean and bright.

Psalm 32:1 -- Blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.

Windshield wipers

A friend sent this, attributed to artist Thomas Kincade. I thought it was an appropriate thought for a Sunday.
_____________________________________

One rainy afternoon I was driving along one of the main streets of town, taking those extra precautions necessary when the roads are wet and slick. Suddenly my daughter Aspen spoke up from her relaxed position in her seat. "Dad, I'm thinking of something."

This announcement usually meant she had been pondering some fact for a while, and was now ready to expound all that her six-year-old mind had discovered. I was eager to hear.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"The rain," she began, "is like sin, and the windshield wipers are like God wiping our sins away."

After the chill bumps raced up my arms I was able to respond. "That's really good, Aspen." Then my curiosity broke in. How far would this little girl take this revelation? So I asked, "Do you notice how the rain keeps on coming? What does that tell you?"

Aspen didn't hesitate one moment with her answer: "We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us."

The cowboy

A reader sent this.
_______________________________

An old cowboy was riding his trusty horse followed by his faithful dog along an unfamiliar road. The man was enjoying the new scenery, when he suddenly remembered dying, and realized that the dog beside him had been dead for years, as had his horse. Confused, he wondered what was happening, and where the trail was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall that looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch topped by a golden letter "H" that glowed in the sunlight.

Standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like gold.

He rode toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. Parched and tired out by his journey, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”

“This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.”

As the gate began to open, the cowboy asked, “Can I bring my partners, too?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.”

The cowboy thought for a moment, then turned back to the road and continued riding, his dog trotting by his side.

After another long ride, at the top of another hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a ranch gate that looked as if it had never been closed. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

“Excuse me,” he called to the man. “Do you have any water?”

“Sure, there’s a pump right over there. Help yourself.”

“How about my friends here?” the traveler gestured to the dog and his horse.

“Of course! They look thirsty, too,” said the man.

The trio went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with buckets beside it. The traveler filled a cup and the buckets with wonderfully cool water and took a long drink, as did his horse and dog.

When they were full, he walked back to the man who was still standing by the tree. “What do you call this place?” the traveler asked.

“This is Heaven,” he answered.

“That’s confusing,” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the glitzy gold street and fake pearly gates? That’s hell.”

“Doesn’t it make you angry when they use your name like that?”

“Not at all. Actually, we’re happy they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.”

How great thou art

A lot of people send me links to YouTube clips, some of which are good and some of which are neutral. But my friend Debra doesn't usually send anything that doesn't knock me flat.

This one knocked me flat.

Here's a fellow who sings the hymn How Great Thou Art as a one-man barbershop quartet. Sounds strange, but oh...my...God... It knocked me flat. Chills down the arms, the whole nine yards.

How great Thou art indeed....

Writing for God

Okay, I need to get some thoughts off my chest. I've learned to pay attention when an idea won't leave me alone.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Ever since I was 13 and learned to type, my thoughts have flowed through my fingertips much more easily than they flow through my lips. I always seemed to have stories going through my head which could only be silenced by putting them on paper. But as with so many other interests in life, writing got shoved to the wayside while I concentrated on college, then career, then marriage, then family.

From the first, Don has cheered me on in my attempts to write. I’ve squeezed writing in between swing shifts at various jobs. I’ve squeezed writing in with newborn babies asleep in a sling on my chest. I've squeezed in writing while mucking out the barn. I’ve squeezed writing in just about everywhere you can imagine.

But I never got published.

Oh, not from lack of trying. I’ve submitted to about every publishing house and magazine you can think of. I’ve queried hundreds of agents over the years. I could, quite literally, wallpaper an entire room with my rejection notices. I spent fifteen years as a frustrated wanna-be writer, spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.

Well, not exactly nowhere. Those fifteen years taught me the ropes of the industry. It showed me the good, the bad, and the ugly. It disillusioned me through some bitter experiences, and it allowed me the privilege of meeting (in person or via email/snail mail) some extraordinary writers, editors, and agents. In short, those fifteen unpublished years weren’t a total waste of time. But it sure didn’t garner me much by way of writing credits. And all the while, something vague and unspecified and unclear was nagging at me. Something was preventing me from being published, at least with any regularity. What was it?

And then a funny thing happened.

I was visiting some friends in Oregon, John and Krista. These are old and dear friends whose children grew up with mine. In fact, Krista is a labor and delivery nurse, and she was 7½ months pregnant with her own first daughter when she helped bring our first daughter into this world. (That's how we met -- she helped deliver my baby!) John and Krista’s two older girls are just about the same age as my girls and, oddly, bear the same names as our girls (which made for fun play dates when we lived in Oregon!).

Anyway, about five years ago we visited our old stomping grounds in Oregon and spent a few days trespassing on John and Krista’s hospitality. During an idle moment while Krista was busy with the kids, I flipped open her Bible which was lying on a living room coffee table, closed my eyes, and placed my finger on a random verse.

It was Romans 12:6 – “We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.”

Criminey. I’d just been pole-axed.

I realized what it was that had been nagging at me all these years. I knew my interest in writing was God-given (why else would I be so driven to keep writing even after fifteen years of failure?), but I hadn’t written was what pleasing to God. In other words, I wasn’t using my gift for the glory of God.

I won’t say my life changed in that moment. On the contrary, I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to write what **I** wanted to write, darn it. I didn’t want to be dictated to. I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t doing what I should be doing.

So I fought. Thought. Continued down the same beaten path of failure. Cried. Raged.

And finally submitted. God was right. I was wrong. Well phooey.

Okay, time to make some changes. First I changed the emphasis of what I wrote. I started doing a lot more magazine articles and short non-fiction pieces. Some wonderful doorways opened up during this transition period, and some bitterly hard doors closed. But I started getting published on a regular basis, and my publishing credits began building up.

I have endless numbers of people to thank for these publishing opportunities – not only Don and my kids, but also the wonderful editors at Countryside Magazine, The Crafts Report Magazine, Backwoods Home Magazine, LivingOnADime.com, and of course the phenomenal folks at WorldNetDaily. And I am endlessly grateful to you, my blog readers. But above all, the credit goes to the Almighty. How could it not?

By the standards of a lot of writers, I’m puny – a mighty small fish in a mighty big pond. But you know what? That’s okay. I’m using my gift appropriately now. I’m not so cocky as to think I’ll never face any more professional setbacks, challenges, or failures (that’s the way we grow, after all). But now my writing brings me peace instead of frustration.

The nice thing about gifts from God is they keep on giving. A few years ago when I was trying to find an agent for The Simplicity Primer, I queried dozens and dozens of agents – possibly close to a hundred. Some expressed interest in seeing the proposal, then dropped it. Getting an agent to pay attention to me was like pulling teeth.

This summer some writing friends convinced me I needed an agent for future books. Armed with a couple of recommendations, I queried two agents. That’s right: TWO agents. Not dozens, TWO. One didn’t get back to me for weeks, and then it was a decline. But the other agent accepted me. [Update: We've since parted ways amiably because I didn't have any manuscripts to send him. I now have a different agent.]

I don’t want to read too much into this, but the inarguable fact remains that once I gave my writing over to God, I started getting published. Once I learned to subdue my rebellious spirit and direct my gift they way it was supposed to go, things started becoming easier for me.

Which begs the question, in what other areas of my life am I being rebellious? I can think of a few right off the bat, but since it’s always embarrassing to list my faults, I’ll keep them to myself and just work on them in private.

Gifts are funny things. I sometimes regret I don’t have the gifts some of my friends have. I have limited abilities or interests in many of the domestic arts in which others of my acquaintance excel and which make their homes serene and beautiful places to visit. My skills in sewing or hospitality or decorating or cooking or even teaching pale in comparison to the wonderful talents of these other women.

But God made us all different. We all have gifts. Some we know about, some are waiting to be discovered. I can admire the gifts these other women have. I can admire the seemingly effortless ways in which they bring beauty to their homes and families. I try not to get jealous because I don’t possess the same set of gifts. I try to be thankful to the gifts I DO have.

God is a pretty smart guy. He knows what’s in our hearts. More important, He knows how to draw the BEST out of us if only we would listen and pay attention to what He has to say.

It ain’t always easy to submit to His will. But it sure is worth it.

Attitude adjustment

I had a busy week last week. I had a column due. I had a bunch of blog posts backed up. I had 4000 book plates I had to finish signing. I was working on another book proposal. In short, I was feeling overwhelmed at all the writing-related projects I had to do.

But then I suddenly stopped and realized something astounding. I was living my dream!

I mean this quite seriously. Friends who have known me for a long time (and as my husband can attest!) know I've spent literally decades being a frustrated wanna-be writer. A writer writes. It doesn't matter whether her stuff gets published or not, she writes. She can't stop. It's like a fire burning within and can't be quenched until pen meets paper (or fingers hit keyboard). But to go year after year after year getting nothing but rejection letters can be discouraging.

And believe me, I've got stacks of rejection letters that could literally wallpaper our bathroom. (Hmmm. Make note, new decorating concept.)

I've tried my hand at any number of different genres over the years, and socio-political commentary is the last thing that would have crossed my mind. Certainly I'd never written it before and I sorta just segued into it with WorldNetDaily. Why WND decided to take a chance on an unknown housewife from somewhere deep in the boondocks, I'll never know... but I'm grateful beyond words. I have no doubt in my mind it was a God-thing -- literally an opportunity that was heaven-sent -- and I've tried to remember that even when things get overwhelming.

And of course, a writer isn't much good without readers. That gratitude extends to ALL of you reading this. Even snarks are (mostly) welcome because, after all, it means someone is reading what I wrote.

Sometimes, especially when we're busy or stressed, it's easy to forget our many blessings. We take profoundly important things for granted -- our faith, the love for our spouse, our health, our income, our homes... the list is endless. Once in awhile it's a good thing to stop and count our blessings.

So at that overwhelming moment last week, I paused and thanked the good Lord above for granting me one of my deepest and most fervent wishes: to be a writer.

Heaven and Hell

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, "Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like."

The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.

In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful. But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths. The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering. The Lord said, "You have seen Hell."

They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.

The holy man said, "I don’t understand."

"It is simple," said the Lord. "It requires but one skill. You see, they have learned to feed each other. The greedy think only of themselves."

Letter from God

A reader sent this little clip called "A Letter from God."  Beautiful.

(Quedula, feel free to skip it.  You won't like it anyway.)

Cool YouTube video

A reader sent this YouTube clip called "Reverse Thinking."

UPDATE: I've updated the link, which had broken.
_________________________________

I will live my life according to these beliefs.

God does not exist

It’s just foolish to think

That there is an all knowing God with a cosmic plan

That an all powerful God brings purpose to the pain and suffering in the world

Is a comforting thought however

It

Is only wishful thinking

People can do as they please without eternal consequences.

The idea that

I am deserving of hell

because of sin,

Is a lie meant to make me a slave to those in power.

“The more you have, the happier you will be.”

Our existence has no grand meaning or purpose

In a world with no God

There is freedom to be who I want to be

But with God

Life is an endless cycle of guilt and shame

Without God

Everything is fine

It is ridiculous to think

I am lost and in need of saving


NOW....READ IT FROM THE BOTTOM UP.

If it's free, it has no value

In response to my column of a couple weeks ago, "Preserving Abundance," a reader sent the following observation which I thought was very true:
___________________________

"It's the tragedy of the commons: If it's free, then it has no value and therefore you don't preserve it."

This line hit me like a ton o' bricks. The first thing that came to my steel trap of a mind (rusted shut) was: the same can also be said of our salvation. Without launching into deep theological discussion, let's just say that people also have a cavalier attitude about God's greatest gift. It too was free; bought and paid for by Someone else. Yet we seldom seem to cherish it and work to preserve it between Sundays.

God said No.

Got this from a friend.
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I asked God to take away my habit. God said, “No. It is not for me to take it away, but for you to give it up.”

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. God said, “No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary.”

I asked God to grant me patience. God said, “No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations. It isn't granted, it is learned.”

I asked God to give me happiness. God said, “No. I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you.”

I asked God to spare me pain. God said, “No. Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to me.”

I asked God to make my spirit grow. God said, “No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.”

I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life. God said, “No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things.”

I asked God to help me love others as much as He loves me. God said, “Ahhhh, finally you have the idea!”

An interview with God

After all this depressing stuff, here's a gorgeous clip called "The Interview with God." Peaceful, beautiful. Enjoy.

Amen!

Sometimes we all need a kick in the pants during our daily hassles....

A friend just sent me this prayer:

Heavenly Father, help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.

Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.

Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day ("who really ought to get a job") is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.

Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together.

Heavenly Father, remind us each day That of all the gifts you give us Lord, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear. Open our hearts not to just those who are close to us, but to all humanity.

Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive, show patience, empathy and love.

Working for God on earth doesn't pay much......but His retirement plan is out of this world.