Category Archives: Submitting to God

Giving Her All, Part 2 of 2

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After the elderly stranger fell face-down into deep creek water, Mary and I ran to help. But as we arrived, her head lifted above the water, and she began crawling with her heavy garbage bags to the opposite bank.

“Are you all right?” Mary shouted.

“Fine,” she said. “I just need to drip dry.”

Jack had followed her into the water, and when she saw him, she talked to him. “Hey! Get my rake, and bring it to me!” She had dropped the rake during her dunking.

I pulled off my shoes and socks, rolled my pants and crossed the frigid, fast-flowing creek, fishing out her rake on the way. Again she refused my help with her bags, but as she stood, wet from head to toe, she began to talk.

“Many people have been mean to me, from when I was a little girl” she said. “My parents locked me in a room to keep me from hugging Charlie the horse. They were worried I’d get kicked.”

She told stories of her husband and son, both deceased, but assured me they were caring for her from the hereafter, sending signals when they were near her. She described a babysitting job when the doorbell had rung twice, but there was no doorbell. “That,” she said, “was my husband and son.”

“I’m 76 years old now,” she concluded, “and God has always watched out for me.”

She said she lived six miles from the lake and was planning to walk home after she’d stowed her gear. “Six miles?” I said, alarmed, worrying about her being soaked and cold.

“It’s good to keep moving,” she said. “Besides, I’ve had the pneumonia shot, so I can’t catch that.”

As she bent down for her water-logged garbage bags, I reached for one of them, but she wrestled it away. “No. I’ll do this,” she said. Mary, on the other side of the creek (taking phone pictures) worried she might strike me.

Before she left, I asked her name. “Thelma,” she said.

As she shuffled toward the dune, Mary and I bolted for home, hoping to quickly drive back with dry clothes, a bit of food and a six mile lift. When we returned, we walked the dunes, checked the yards and drove the streets. But she had vanished.

Both of us were disturbed for hours after our encounter, wondering what to do or think. We agreed she was an excellent example of perseverance, but toward what end? Scripture praises perseverance, but only when the object of our quest is a worthy one: godly character, or the Lord’s calling, or holy living.

Some people show determination, but not toward wise behavior. Instead they persevere in disobeying God or trying to live independently of him, or they show determination in giving in to sin. That kind of perseverance is rebellion. In Thelma’s case, she had the right idea, but the wrong goal. Working hard is a virtue, but risking drowning for the sake of two garbage bags full of leaves is foolishness.

So how do we know if we’re persevering after a worthwhile cause?

“The one who looks into the perfect law [God’s Word], the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.” (James 1:25)

In a Spin

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The last long leg of my road trip from Florida to Michigan was spent on route 65, driving through the long state of Indiana. As I passed Indianapolis in the center of the state and then Purdue University north of that, a strange sight appeared out of nowhere: hundreds of massive pinwheels twirling in the breeze.

It was as if I’d happened upon a festive children’s birthday party where the favors were pristine-white whirligigs. Literally as far as the eye could see in any direction these gently spinning fan-like towers were “growing” right out of farm fields.

Since being home I’ve Googled this phenomenon and learned these sleek, three-pronged structures aren’t windmills at all but wind turbines that harness power for energy efficient production of electricity. Crowds of these turbines “growing” in a group are called a wind farm, and they can be found in flat, hilly or mountainous terrain. They’re even erected in water much like offshore oil-drilling stations.

From a bird’s eye view, wind farms must resemble sea anemone or white porcupines. I learned that opposition groups have formed to prevent the establishment of wind farms for esthetic reasons, but in terms of “going green” on energy, they can’t be beat. Other groups say they bring “peace and tranquility” to the landscape.

The many white spinners I saw were plunked down in the middle of already-plowed fields awaiting corn and bean sprouts. It was as if they were a new crop of giant vegetables trying to fit in. Tractor marks encircled each massive base making round patterns in the dirt, and for many miles there was not one farm without them.

As I drove along, I had to struggle to keep my eyes on the road rather than on these graceful wind turbines. Just call me Dawn Quixote. Then suddenly, as abruptly as they began, they ended. Wind currents must have calmed at that point, since farms with steady winds are the only places turbines are built.

As the forest of “windmills” ended and plain farm acreage took over, I saw a small house with an old fashioned wooden windmill next to its barn. The traditional paddle spinner seemed tiny and antique compared to its 21st century counterpart. The word “humble” came to mind. Yet this kind of windmill has served as the power source for grinding, pumping and pressing for hundreds of years.

Mankind has tried to harness wind and its power since the time of Christ, but the ultimate wind-control goes to the Trinity: Jesus, stilling windstorms; the Holy Spirit, coming with the sound of rushing wind; and God, holding wind in his hands. These three can do with wind what no one else can, which is only one of many reasons why we are not like God and should not try to be.

By the way, I learned Canada is experimenting with wind turbines in the Great Lakes. Maybe one of these days we’ll see a line of them marching down the middle of Lake Michigan. Energy production would be wonderful if they got close to Chicago, which is the original “Windy City.”

“Whose hands have gathered up the wind? What is his name, and what is the name of his son? Surely you know!” (Proverbs 30:4)

A Radical Example

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Whenever I’m around young children, I’m fascinated by their learning style as miniature mimickers. Whatever we do, they try to do. Our flawed examples are, unfortunately, passed along to our kids, which is exactly why I’m thankful we have Jesus as a better standard. We know he never sinned, so we can guess what his first 30 years were like, which is what we are to imitate.  

He obeyed his parents 100%, although surely there were times when he felt like disobeying. He put his siblings ahead of himself and observed what others needed. He never took anything that didn’t belong to him, and never swore. He participated wholeheartedly in every Sabbath day worship, and nothing in his life mattered more than his relationship with God.

He never longed to own something that belonged to another person and never said nasty things about someone else to make himself look better. He never told a lie or withheld the complete truth, and because he wasn’t married, he never slept with a woman.

We ought to be stretching ourselves toward leading this kind of a life.

Once Jesus began his formal ministry as a teacher, he continued to be a spectacular model. He didn’t hide out in solitude but spent time in public, healing, helping and educating people. He was a radical, a strong person who shook up the status quo. He revolutionized the Jewish religiosity of the day and trimmed down hundreds of laws to two: loving God and loving others.

I’m glad Jesus’ angry outburst at the temple was included in Scriture. The story describes him responding negatively to merchants who were selling animals there. The Bible says he made his own whip to rout them out, probably by striking directly at them. I find it fascinating that in his anger, Jesus took time to find the materials he needed and weave together an effective whip.

He then showed strength and determination as he chased out men and animals alike, following that by scattering their coins all over the floor. He finished by flipping over the massive wooden tables used to transact business, proving he was not the weakling many pictures show him to be. Finally he shouted, “Get these [animals] out of here! Stop turning my Father’s house into a market!”

We already knew we were to model our lives after the “gentle Jesus, meek and mild.” But did we know we were to imitate this other Jesus, too? None of us will ever need to do exactly what he did with a whip in a temple. But we’re all called to live radically with a personal passion to pursue righteousness.

I’m wondering if I’ve even begun.

”All of your works will thank you, Lord, and your faithful followers will praise you. They will speak of the glory of your kingdom; they will give examples of your power.” (Psalm 145:10-11)