When We Fail
Well, the summer is almost over, and, as far as gardening is concerned, I don’t feel as if I have had a summer. For most of the growing season, all of the veggies have been spindly, with no blooms and obviously no fruit. I have never experienced such a gardening failure.
The sad tale began about the middle of June when I decided to follow a Youtube gardener’s advice and buy a 40 per cent shade cloth to protect my plants from the broiling Mississippi sun. I was tired of seeing my plants burn up in the summer no matter how much I watered. After a fair amount of research, I invested the money to cover the entire garden.
As the men put it up, a small, niggling voice whispered, “Isn’t that a little dark in there for those peas, corn and beans, not to mention the tomatoes?” I ignored it, especially when I realized how much cooler working in the garden had become. But after a few weeks I could not deny that my plants were not prospering. All that work gone to waste! Finally a couple of weeks ago I pulled almost everything up, admitting defeat. How sad!
Yet, I did notice the peppers and okra and even one lone cucumber were making a comeback, responding to the light and producing, even though not as healthy as they should be. Filled with hope, I replanted the green beans and several rows of purple hull peas, banking on a harvest before frost in November. Actually I endorsed myself for such positive thinking; in the past, I would have been mercilessly berating myself for such a poor decision.
A little thought would have helped me see that plants need the sun, and some need the blazing hot summer sun. Belatedly I asked my friend and well-known horticulturist Felder Rushing what he thought about shade cloths. He said, ”You don’t need them. Millions of southern gardeners have been planting without shade cloths for hundreds of years and reaped wonderful harvests.” True. Why didn’t I ask him BEFORE this disastrous and expensive experiment? I won’t make that mistake again!
In life we sometimes make the same poor decisions even though our intentions are good. And at times those decisions fly in the face of good sense. We forge ahead independently without there wise counsel of family and friends. We fail in jobs, projects, relationships. The temptation is to give up, wallowing in the swamp of self criticism. But living in the chrysalis demands that we let this ego trap that begs for perfection dissolve and take on the mind of Christ. He accepts us as we are, with all our failings, and gives us the power to start over, begin again, learn from mistakes, and, perhaps, accomplish more than we did before. We are looking toward complete transformation, as the caterpillar turns into a butterfly, Let's salute new beginnings!
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come. The old has gone, the new is here! 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)
The Great Light
Originally published April 20, 2024
I had a nightmare a couple of months ago, the kind you wake up from and instantly go to prayer thanking God it was only a dream. I was in one of those odd, never-never land states where I consciously knew I was in the bed in my sister-in-law’s home, but my subconscious was calling the shots. I began straining to make out something, anything in the inky blackness. No matter where I looked, I could not discern anything—no window, no furniture, no light under the door. In this dreamlike state, I finally decided I was blind. I didn’t know how it had happened, because I had gone to bed fine. Simply put, I was terrified and began to think how hard life was going to be now that I couldn’t see. Each second, I became more and more frantic, and I could feel my heart racing. Suddenly, however, I noticed a tiny green dot of light blinking on the ceiling. The smoke detector! I wasn’t blind!! I woke up and was so relieved I almost cried out in joy.
Life is much like that, isn’t it? Sometimes the blackness comes upon us, we its unwitting victims. What in the world to do? We are desolate, terrified, enraged, and any number of other emotions. The darkness is so thick and suffocating we think we may die. Some of the darkness we want desperately to escape—impending divorce, death of loved ones, financial collapse, catastrophic illness -- and can’t find the way out. Yet, sometimes, truth to tell, we actually run toward the darkness for some crazy reason, enjoying the payoffs of addictions, compulsions, and a host of other destructive states. We become slaves to a plethora of little gods, thinking they willmake us happy, safe, and secure. Frightened, we follow these innumerable rabbit trails, but the farther away we get from the Great Light, the more unhappy and insecure we become. In either case, we frequently end up lost in an abyss of murky shadows, losing hope that we will ever find our way back.
Isaiah tells us, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (9:1).
Anyone who has read the Bible knows that Jesus is the Great Light. What we don’t have down is how that “Great Light” actually plays out in our lives. It is shining all the time, always has, everywhere in the universe – the darkness cannot overcome it. However, I am sad to say that none of us sees that light as constantly as it shines. No, we don’t. And we are not able to, this side of paradise, which is what makes us human. But Isaiah tells us that Jesus can shine His Light into our lives, showing us the way, helping us conquer the darkness.
I imagine most people think of Jesus walking around metaphorically with a huge spotlight, shining it into all of our dirty little crevices. I have even heard it taught that way. That could be true at times, but I’ve been a Christian for about forty years now (not counting all those years at church memorizing Scripture when I thought I was a Christian), and “the Great Light” has rarely been a spotlight. It has seemed more like a faint dot of brightness from a lighthouse seen from a ship many miles out at sea, getting clearer only after a long, long time.
The Good News, the incredibly Good News, is that the Great Light--Christ’s light --is ALWAYS there. It never, ever dies away totally because, remember, the darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5). So, try to search the darkness continuously – and wait. The tiniest of lights will eventually appear. Move toward it however you can. Rumi says, “If all you can do is crawl, start crawling.” Christ’s love will reach out and drag you along, most likely bringing others alongside of you to help. In less time than you might think, you will again be in the Great Light – not crawling, but dancing!
The Reluctant Prophet
Originally published April 2, 2021
I suppose Easter is the best time to begin a blog in earnest... a blog that I have been afraid to write for many years. It is a resurrection of sorts within my own soul, a coming to be of who I really am, an effort to display the vivid beauty that Christ created in me from the very beginning of my earthly existence. At 71, I know that I can’t take tomorrow for granted— no more excuses, no more delay to make whatever I write perfect, no second guessing. When I stand before Him in the end, I want to say I did what He asked me to do.
And so here we are at April 1, 2021. It is a sunny, beautiful morning here in our southern part of the world. The birds are jockeying to see who can make the loudest noise... the little brown jobs (LBJs) continue to build their nest behind the front porch lamp fixture...and the earthworms are disgruntled because I am turning the compost heap and adding more alfalfa.
I love the spring, even though the jobs in the garden seem endless. God teaches me so much every single day, and often the most useful lessons come when I do feel anxious and overwhelmed with tasks I have set for myself. He constantly reminds me that all is well, all is in perfect divine order. In other words, I can do the next thing and not worry.
Today, in the yard I slowed myself down from my normal frenetic pace to appreciate what I already had from God. I paid special attention to the shimmering light green lushness of the spring oak leaves; the shy new leaves budding on the just planted ginkgo and Japanese magnolia; the gorgeous magenta blossoms of a nameless wildflower that last year I might have pulled up as a weed. I marveled at the budding red maple seedling hugging a crepe myrtle and thanked God that in the fall I can give it a home of its own.
Such small things to notice... but so important for a driven person as I am. Peace comes in knowing that at any moment God’s work is getting done.. creation is continuing and does not need my frenzied activity to succeed. I can find satisfaction in my work without constantly worrying if I am doing enough.
Two thousand years ago today, Jesus was eating the last meal he would have on this earth with His disciples. He knew He was headed to the cross tomorrow, and, if He was truly human (which He was), He had to be wondering if His three-year ministry had been a success. While there were plenty of people appreciative of His healing, virtually no one really understood His messages, even His disciples. Surely Jesus was tempted as a human to stay longer, try harder, do more. But He trusted His Father knew exactly the right time for all things, and He submitted.
Those are my marching orders, too. I will find joy in my day’s work, then rest, then do it all over again, submitting to God’s perfect timing.
AUTUMN
The familiar nip is in the air.
All nature seems to know
Autumn has arrived.
It is time for rest.
The maple out my window
Shamelessly begins to disrobe,
First swapping verdant green foliage
For fiery vermillion
Royal purple
Brilliant yellows and oranges.
She’ll wear the beauty
For a few weeks
Before dropping it carelessly
On the ground below.
I’m told the gorgeous hues
Are there all along,
Masked by the overpowering green of growth,
And brought out of hiding
When the sun stingily
Begins to take back its light
Earlier and earlier.
Autumn has come to visit my body, too.
The supple joints
The moist skin
The clear eyes and mind
Are fading
As my days also grow shorter.
Yet, all these years
Brilliant beauty
Has lain hidden
Within me, too --
Masked by the frenetic activity
Of youth,
Of growth.
What vibrant hues
Will be revealed in me
In this autumn of my life?
Hues to heal,
To please the soul,
To calm the spirit?
Let me be sure
To look for the beauty
That can come
Only with the dying of the light.
—Rebecca Barnes Hobbs
Originally published August 29, 2017
Putting On Christ
Originally published August 29, 2017
Have you ever had days when you truly wished you could transform? I mean, leave your dysfunctional patterns in the dust and become an entirely different, better person? I know I do all the time. The Bible tells us that this is exactly what can happen with Christ’s help:
[You] have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. (Colossians 3:10)
“Put on” here means to envelope or hide in. In a sense, it is like putting on a garment, such as a coat. It envelopes us and hides most of our body. Yet, the idea of putting on Christ, or our new nature, is much more than that. It is a subtle process, filled with mystery. If you look for it, you won’t see it happening. It is only after the fact, after you have done it (or it has been done to you) that you notice changes. For I believe we don’t even do it – we allow it to be done to us by staying open to the Holy Spirit. What God requires, He gives us the power to do, not in our own power but His.
Suppose you want to “put on the new nature” by exhibiting more of the patience of Christ. You pray to this end. A day does not come when balloons fall from the sky and trumpets sound a fanfare because you have suddenly “become a patient person.” No, what happens is that one day you belatedly realize that you think differently about issues that once made you impatient. You may treat people better – you may treat yourself better. But try as you will, you cannot remember when, or much less how, this change came about. But it certainly did. People will eventually come up to you, as someone did to me, and say, “You know, you are not the person I used to know.”
The work of Christ within us is going on constantly, and it will not stop until we stand before Him. Every time we say, “Help me, Jesus,” He listens and takes us at our word. The Holy Spirit rolls into action and begins to change us from within. A new spirit, Christ’s Spirit, rises unbidden in us, asking new questions, giving new sight, providing new peace and hope. It permeates our being much as a stain sinks into new wood. There is no space in the wood that the stain doesn’t touch. So it is with us. The aim here is that our old nature will be completely hidden by Christ; we will be conformed to His nature, and it will be as if He is walking around in our bodies.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (2 Cor. 5:17)
One of the best illustrations of this profound change is the humble chrysalis, which you see above in the masthead of my website. A chrysalis is the structure in which a caterpillar changes into a butterfly. I’ve always loved butterflies, their carefree beauty as they randomly float around enjoying God’s nectar. But I’ve always been impressed with the fact that their beauty comes at a price. At some point the caterpillar spins a tight chrysalis around itself, then proceeds to dissolve inside it. Not a single cell remains the same; it becomes a liquid, then is transformed into a new creature.
I have come to look at life as much the same process if we humans want to be new creatures. As we are hidden with Christ in the chrysalis, we are utterly changed into a new creature. The old passes away totally. How long does it take? Well, monarchs finish up in about two weeks; humans take considerably longer. I’m 67 and still in my chrysalis, but growing, learning, transforming each day. Some days it’s quite dark, but other days I know I see God’s glorious light in that velvet blackness. I’d be honored if you would visit with me often here and explore living in the chrysalis and all the many ways we may become new creatures!