Who’s who?

Posted on April 25, 2011 by Margaret

I’ve been enjoying Facebook these last few months, staying up-to-date with friends and relatives through pictures and messages. Although I’ve learned to post photos, leave comments and send private notes, I’ve never learned to “tag” someone.

Facebook tagging tells who’s who in a picture. After you type a name over a face, someone else can then hover their mouse on that person, and like magic the name pops into view. My kids are experts at tagging, and I’ve come to recognize many of their friends I haven’t met, by mouse-hovering.

Although I can’t tag on Facebook, I’ve recently accomplished another kind of tagging, fastening a new nametag on Jack. His old tag, the one with my name, address and phone on it, was worn blank. If he ran off, a rescuer wouldn’t know who to call.

Every night at bedtime, I “undress” Jack by taking off his collar. (He’s got a very thick neck and sleeps better without it.) Last week, however, I went to get him dressed in the morning and couldn’t find his collar. Because we’re renovating at my house, I figured it was buried somewhere in the debris and would eventually turn up.

After three days of hunting, I had only one option left, to ask Jack. “Where’s your collar, buddy?” But he had no suggestions. I hated losing the new tag, his name on one side and my info on the other. All I could figure was I’d had a senior moment and put it in the freezer, my sock drawer or the wood pile. But suddenly, Jack came forth with an answer.

We were walking home from the beach (him naked, me dressed) when he pranced onto a friend’s lawn to sniff. I kept walking, whistling for him to come but eventually backtracking to get him. There he was, firmly planted over his collar in the middle of the yard as if to say, “You asked me, so I’m telling you.” It must have slipped over his head a few days earlier when he’d been snoofing there.

I’m glad God doesn’t need to tag us to know us. He’s known us since before we were born, name and all, and he’ll know us forever. Names are important to him, though, and not just ours.

He promises to deal harshly with anyone who takes his name in vain, and he watches to see if we’ll honor it. He invites us to call on his name for help, to worship his name in reverence, and to fear it as the beginning of wisdom. And he also promises to reward those who genuinely love his name.

I’m happy to report Jack is once again properly dressed, but I’m confident God would know his name, even if he wasn’t tagged.

“Those who feared the Lord spoke with each other, and the Lord listened to what they said. In his presence, a scroll of remembrance was written to record the names of those who feared him and always thought about the honor of his name.” (Malachi 3:16)

Is that you?

Posted on April 24, 2011 by Margaret

Ever since the Easter service this morning, I’ve been thinking about the pastor’s sermon. We walked with two of Jesus’ disciples on their 7 mile journey to Emmaus, seeing their sadness and hearing their disappointment about the crucifixion. Having listened to (and watched) Jesus teach, they knew what he looked like. Yet when he walked next to them and even conversed with them, they had no inkling it was him.

We also read that Mary didn’t recognize him, either, mistaking him for someone else. She questioned him about the empty tomb, probably focusing on his face to get the answer. It’s astounding she didn’t recognize her very good friend.

Then there’s the puzzling incident when Jesus suddenly appeared among his 11 remaining disciples inside a home. This time it wasn’t just a matter of not recognizing him. They were also terrified, thinking he was a ghost. He had to play show ‘n tell with them to convince them it was really him. When they still weren’t sure, he proved he wasn’t a ghost by eating some fish.

As we shadow the risen Jesus from the time he left the tomb until he ascended to heaven, these curious responses of non-recognition seem to be the norm. The only logical conclusion is to assume he didn’t look “like himself.” We know he had a glorified body but don’t know exactly what that means. We do know he was able to walk through walls and transport himself quickly from one geographical place to another.

We also know his countless severe wounds from lashings, a crown of thorns, nails and an abdominal stabbing had completely healed in less than three days. But what was it that made recognition happen? When did they “get it?”

The two men in Emmaus identified Jesus at the dinner table. It was his way of saying grace and breaking bread that caused them to realize, “It’s him!” For Mary it was his voice. And for the 11, it was becoming convinced he wasn’t a ghost.

In other words, his glorified self was more about who he was than what he looked like.

In this world we often act as if appearances are what count. The risen Jesus taught us, however, that the most important thing is what’s inside.

And that goes for all eternity.

“Our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies. Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’.” (1 Corinthians 15:53-54)

Divine Design

Posted on April 23, 2011 by Margaret

This weekend, 4000 miles away from me, my British grandbaby-twins are celebrating their first birthdays. Missing out on all the fun, I’m chastising myself for not having arranged to be on hand for the party. It would have been a weekend of three hallelujahs: Evelyn, Thomas and Easter!

Today in honor of these one year olds, I went back and re-read my blog posts from the 12 days I spent in England with them when they were newborns, and viewed the 112 photos posted during my 10 day visit last fall (with Nelson and Klaus). Hans, Katy and all three children came to the States in September (Blog post: “Surprise!” Sept 8, 2010) and again for 5 weeks at Christmas.

Four trans-Atlantic together-times in one year is pretty good. Will we do as well in 2011?

Children change radically during that first year, tripling their birth weights and learning a thousand skills. Never again in their lives will they develop at such a pace, and missing the majority of it is difficult. But I’m thankful for modern technology that keeps us up-to-date.

Small children are potent reminders of the passing of time. Watching them change so extensively that first year finds parents and grandparents huffing and puffing just to keep up, and I don’t mean with the speed of their crawling. Some of their growth occurs so quickly we hardly have a memory of it.

Looking back one year ago when Evelyn and Thomas were helpless newborns, we didn’t know them well and were just beginning to get acquainted. Today we see them as individuals with specific personality traits, opinions and bents, and we know them well.

They occupy two important places in the Nyman family, too. If they disappeared tomorrow, the void would be significant. It’s taken only one year for Evelyn and Thomas to make a major mark on our whole family, and that’s because God is involved.

He’s designed every person who ever lived to be a unique, one-of-a-kind individual, never tiring of the creative process, never running out of ideas. Evelyn and Thomas are not repeats, and for all eternity they’ll each have the God-given soul and distinctive personhood they have today. I find that intriguing and thrilling, a triumph of divine design.

Katy and Hans have worked thousands of hours to bring their twins to this first birthday celebration, and I’ve had the chance to watch some of that exhausting diligence up close. But I know they’d both nod with enthusiastic approval if asked whether or not it was worth it.