Good King; Bad King

Mr. President: I liked your speech.  Some didn’t.  You might want to hire a cup bearer, just to be on the safe side.

Nehemiah, in the Bible had been a cup bearer in Persia for Queen Esther’s husband, King Artie something.  He took a break from that job to build a wall around Jerusalem...to fortify it.  Many people thought he was nuts. You two have that in common.  This man trusted God with his whole heart while satan let fly every trick he had up his sleeve.   BUT, the wall went up! ...in record time.

Since you are a speed writer on Twitter you may be a speed reader too, so,  between meetings with today’s world leaders, you might get some pointers about how to do your job by reading the bio of long-ago King Hezekiah.  He undertook his assignment with humility...confessing that he had no clue about how to do anything but bear cups. That gave God a huge advantage...but his wife secretly worshipped a fertility goddess...and so their son filled up with alligators the very swamp his daddy had drained. That part of the story isn't so good, but it doesn't cancel out Hezekiah's rewards for obedience.  

 Good King. Bad King.  If we read the record of the kings in one fell swoop our emotions fly right off the rails. Best to take them in chunks.

I am ninety years old and my thoughts are still not always His, nor are my ways His either.   Mr. President. Donald: Do not, for a minute “lean unto your own understanding”.  But of course, being human, you will.

Out here in wacko California, not all of us have bowed the knee to Baal.  May that give you hope for the country.

Love, 

Jo

Good king; Bad king

Mr. President: I liked your speech.  Some didn’t.  You might want to hire a cup -bearer, just to be on the safe side.

Nehemiah, in the Bible had been a cup-bearer in Persia for Queen Esther’s husband, King Artie something.  He took a break from that job to build a wall...far to the north...around Jerusalem.  Many people thought he was nuts. You two have that in common.  This man trusted God with his whole heart while satan let fly every trick he had up his sleeve.   BUT, the wall went up! ...in record time.

Since you are a speed writer on Twitter you may be a speed reader too...so,  between meetings with today’s world leaders, you could be encouraged by reading the bio of long-ago King Hezekiah.  He started his assignment with humility...confessing that he had no clue about how to do the job. That gave God a huge advantage...but his wife secretly worshipped a fertility goddess...and so their son filled up with alligators the very swamp his daddy had drained. That part of the story isn't so good, but it doesn't cancel out Hezekiah's rewards for obedience.  

 Good King. Bad King.  If we read the record of the kings in one fell swoop our emotions fly right off the track.  Best to take them in chunks.

I am ninety years old and my thoughts are still not always His, nor are my ways His either.   Mr. President. Donald: Do not, for a minute “lean unto your own understanding”.  But of course, being human, you will.

Out here in wacko California, not all of us have bowed the knee to Baal.  May that give you hope for the country.

Love, 

Jo

Good King; Bed King

Mr. President: I liked your speech.  Some didn’t.  You might want to hire a cup bearer, just to be on the safe side.

Nehemiah, in the Bible had been a cup-bearer in Persia for Queen Esther’s husband, King Artie something.  He took a break from that job to build a wall ...a thousand miles to the north...in Jerusalem.  Most people thought he was nuts. You two have that in common.  This man trusted God with his whole heart while satan let fly every trick he had up his sleeve.   BUT, the wall went up! ...in record time.

  

Since you are a speed writer on Twitter you may be a speed reader too...so , between meetings with today’s world leaders, you would do yourself a favor by reading the bio of long-ago King Hezekiah.  He started out humble...admittedly not knowing his right foot from his left. That gave God a huge advantage...but his wife secretly worshiped a fertility goddess...and so their son filled with alligators the very swamp his daddy had drained.

 Good King. Bad King.  If we read the record of the kings in one fell swoop our emotions fly right off the track.  Best to take it in chunks.

I am ninety years old and my thoughts are still not His, nor are my ways His either.   Mr. President. Donald: Do not, for a minute “lean unto your own understanding”.  But of course, being human, you will.

Out here in wacko California, not all of us have bowed the knee to Baal.  May that give you hope for the country.

Your friend,

Jo Stone

Love and Truth

Ted and I met her when we spoke at an event.  She came to us and asked to come for counseling. In one session we knew this lady deserved the best we could give her.  She came into our home and lived with us for several months. 

Let’s call her “Roselle”. She would like that. Her favorite color was rose. 

Sexual abuse is horrible.  Spiritual abuse is worse.  Many times this precious one had gone to the altar in her church for healing.  The ulcers on her legs remained and worsened; body weight increased. She was told she did not have enough faith to be healed.  Lies weigh so much.

Now she was fifty years old...exhausted from years of satan’s accusations,  the loss of four babies that died in her womb,  sacrificial  ministry, the mothering of nine foster children and adoption of three.  All the while she guarded the secret of her uncle’s sexual assaults from even her own conscious mind...but her soul knew; her body knew. Her spirit was wounded to near collapse.  If the lies remained hidden from her mind there would be no healing.  Little girl cries came from deep within her...many in the night. I held her, Ted held me and the Lord held all three of us.

The evil one resisted releasing some of the memories. As the lies were supplanted by God’s Truth, gradually the fears subsided and the cries ceased. There was no hurrying the work of the Holy Spirit. In His time Roselle went to her home,  then resumed ministry until the Lord took her Home... last week. She had called a month or so ago; we made a tentative date to play pinochle. “You saved my life.”  No, we didn’t.  His Love and Truth set her free. 

Did Ted and I have the “gift of healing”?  Of course not.  We had His gift of love, laced with His powerful Word.  Nothing else is needed.

Love, Jo

Afterthoughts:  
Tinnitus report: The crickets still cricket and the truck still revs its motor...but not quite as loud.  Now,  who is going to come and play pinochle with me?    J

Dress Rehearsal

Paul did not know how long he would be here when he wrote Philippians.  It didn’t matter. To live?  Christ;  to die?  Gain.  How long did it take him to figure that out?  ...most of his lifetime. 

I was eleven years old when the second World War broke out. ...on two fronts.  One of my brothers fought for our country in the Air Force in the South Pacific.  He was gone for three years.  We hovered at our mail box,  hoping to hear from him. ...tuning into radio for any news from that theater.   The other brother and his wife moved to our farm to help my dad.  My grandmother was dying, leg amputated from diabetes.  Young German soldiers from a nearby prison camp worked for us at harvest time.  Few American homes were unaffected,  drastically, by the hell of war.    

There was little time or energy for my parents to think about my future after high school. There were no scholarships available.  I so much wanted to go to college. My boyfriend, Ted left for the Navy;  the Shepherd/Collie puppy he had given me was killed in the road. I walked that country road in despair.  My farmer dad who worked so hard for every penny paid two hundred dollars for a year in business college.  That degree opened a door for a job on a college campus. In that college town I was invited to a little church where the "real-deal Christians" loved me to Christ.  A very young Billy Graham came to speak on a Sunday morning.  In a few months I would meet him again in Chicago at Moody Bible Institute's Flounder's Week where he would be the featured speaker.  (You knew I would drop his name. ...once more.  ...couldn't help myself.)  He invited me to his Christian school in Minneapolis.  Finally I was a student in college. Ted mustered out of the Navy, came to Christ and came to college, on to Dallas Seminary and into ministry. Many of you who read this blog are part of the rest of the story.  There would be no story worth telling without you.

For sixty years we served the Lord together.  My darling has been in Heaven for nine years.  I didn't think I could make it for nine DAYS without him, but the Lord, my family, my mission board and a host of supporters have come right along beside me to help me to the end.  When will that come?  I have no idea.  My body is shutting down but the "eyes of my understanding" seem to be opening wider. Again, I "walk a country road".  ...not in Kansas, but in Bear Valley Springs, California.  ...with my cats.  I am not in "despair" as once I was, at seventeen.  Now I am ninety years old.  Mine has been a rich, fulfilling life.  Apparently, it is not over. ... not quite.   I continue to feed a few sheep at a time.  Precious ones like you are scattered around the world, feeding more sheep.  Rarely a day goes by that I do not hear from some of you.  Keep telling me how He is using the Word of God through you.  I will pray for you. Never, ever compare your ministry to others. He is using you in a unique way with just the people He chooses to send to you.  

This last chapter of my life is much quieter, but it is very precious.  When it is time for a NEW BEGINNING,   He will come to fetch me and usher me into the "crowd of witnesses"  that is already there.  Will I see Ted and my son immediately?   I don't know.  It doesn't matter.  Many things do not "matter" as once they did. You know, don't you that this life is but a dress rehearsal?  The BEST is yet to come!

Count your blessings;  name them, one by one.

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done. 

Love,  Jo

STOP!

Since we moved to this mountain a small chorus of crickets has chirped in my ears. Tinnitus is not uncommon for high level dwellers.  A few days ago these phantom critters brought their relatives.  A diesel truck delivered them.

When something unusual shows up I call Cathy and Rick, my next door neighbors to see what they think.  They came.  They listened/   In the tenderest tone of voice such as is reserved for very small children and elderly neighbors, they said to me:  "Jo, there are no crickets and there is no diesel truck." 

Yesterday C and R. insisted on going with me to my doctor.  Dr. Hall cleaned out my ears. ...or tried to.  One of them is refusing to give up whatever is stored in there,   so I am oiling it for a few days.  Meanwhile, the band plays on and the truck keeps right on running.  

I'm on a roll, so I might as well tell you about my eyes:  They have little whirling circles in them. ...like ballerinas in tutus.  There is no cure. 

Because it is becoming frustrating to read I listen now to books on audio.   C.S. Lewis' "Screwtape Letters"  seems to be  what I need to counter the current aggravations.    

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Love,  Jo

Stop it!

Since we moved to this mountain a small phantom chorus of crickets has chirped in my ears.  They have thoughtfully kept the volume low.  I have been able to tune them out.   A few days ago suddenly the United States Army Cricket Marching Band showed up,  along with a diesel truck , with motor running.   It was a startling moment.

When something unusual shows up I call Cathy and Rick Nextdoor.  (That’s their last name:  “Nextdoor”.) They hurried over.  walked around and through my house, then in the tenderest possible tone of voice such as is reserved for very small babies and elderly neighbors,  they said:  “Jo, there is no truck and  there are no crickets.” 

Yesterday, the three of us went to see my doctor.  (Her name is Dr. Susan Hall.  She comes to my Summer Singalongs;  therefore I like her.)  Her P.A. went to work.  ...pushing a pointy light into first one ear, then the other.  Whatever was in one ear dislodged.  Not so, the other.  Meanwhile, the band plays on and the truck keeps right on running with a steady, low-pitched hum. 

 I am guessing that some of you suffer from Tinnitus.  One person told me about the “ear candle” treatment.  I am not a big fan of pain, so will  stick with my doctor’s efforts to get rid of whatever is chirping and roaring.

I'm on a roll, so I might as well tell you about my eyes:  They have little black and red whirling circles in them that go ‘round and round. ...like ballerinas in tutus. This pesky distraction also has a name:  Macular Degeneration. 

Those parts of me are all I want to talk about today. ...maybe ever.  Send only tried and successful suggestions. 

We are fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Love,  Jo

Now, Lord?

You actually had to be there to believe it.  No one who lived during The Jesus Movement of the 60's and 70's saw it coming.  We were swept up in it.  We remind one another that it can happen again. This would be a good time for it, don't you think? 

Love,  Jo

THE GOAL

Over Christmas I spent five days with members of my family who live to the north of me.  Our son Jeff and his dear wife  Carla are in full- time ministry as counselors and professors in universities.  One of their daughters is in law school;  the other will soon be a third-generation Dr.Stone.  As she watched her grandfather’s life ebb away from a cancerous brain tumor she made up her mind to become a brain surgeon.

We all need purpose.  What’s mine?  As my 90-year-old body tells me daily that it is 90 years old I must adjust my thinking regarding what is “purposeful”.   Some days,  just getting out of bed and getting dressed feels like an accomplishment.

My love language is "words of encouragement."    I love to give them and I love to receive them.  Deeds are  good, but without words, something is missing.  "Silly?”  you say.  Probably.   Over sixty years of marriage my husband sent me many birthday and anniversary cards with carefully chosen printed words he simply could not articulate.  I kept them all.  As he lay in his hospital bed for eleven months I read those cherished words back to him.  He would smile and sometimes squeeze my hand.

Pulling the New Covenant card on Our Father will not cut it.  The First Commandment has always been and always will be His requirement.  You know what it is.  Like Rachael,  Jacob’s favorite wife,  we can try to hide our idols by sitting on them, but  God knows who, what and where they are.  He wants us to finish our race unencumbered by idols that needs be pitched into the ditch by the side of the road.

Some fellow pilgrims carry a weight of guilt from being told they do not have enough faith.  This question comes to mind:  "How much faith was required of Lazarus as he lay dead for four days in a grave outside the little town of Bethany?"  I think the question better asked is: "How GREAT is my God?"   

Love,  Jo

Cherry Picking

 I walked out of my garage onto my driveway.  The morning sun was shining on three big bucks and their girlfriends.  We stared at each other.  Were they plotting to “do me in”  like the reindeer that ran over Grandma? 

I pulled up a chair,  took a first sip of fresh-made coffee and settled in to watch the wild life show.  After more staring,  the Big 'Un  made a decision,  rose to his full stature and bounded up the hillside that leads to the upper level of my property.  There stands the thousand-year-old Mighty Oak. "The Five" followed their leader,  leaping effortlessly.

Many years ago Ted and I sat in the swing under The Mighty Oak and prayed that many people in the beautiful Valley below us would come to Christ.  God is still answering that prayer.   Under the branches of  The Oak both of our sons were married to their beloveds.  For a third of a century many folk have gathered for fellowship while enjoying the splendor of Bear Valley a thousand feet below.  Grandchildren have climbed The Oak and pushed each other in a swing that still hangs from a high branch.  They stood on "Pride Rock",  imagining themselves to be Mufusa, the Lion King. 
       .   
 In centuries past, probably Kawaiisu Indian families lived in the summer beneath The Oak.  Here,  they may have ground acorns for food.  Pestles and grinding rocks are still being found in Bear Valley.  They roasted their wild game over an open fire;  slept,  conceived and raised their children on this mountain. The Mighty Oak saw it all. ...forcing its roots down and down so The Tree would not topple when assaulted by blizzards,  high winds and earthquakes.  This Oak and others on my property drink from deep running springs that never run dry.  I do not water these majestic trees lest the roots creep back up to the surface, causing the trees to weaken and fall. 

 If,  at this Christmastime we are feeling some sadness,  why wouldn't we?  We humans cherry pick our memories,  telling ourselves that all of our Christmases were white,  and all the family gathered in perfect harmony.  The truth is that most holidays were jammed with too many activities...too many command performances. ...too much travel. ...too many generations to please,  and we drew a sigh of relief when they were over.  ...so why don't we just be content with where we are in life and enjoy who and what we've got left?

What verse trumps the fray?    I would love to hear yours. 

Here's mine: Jesus said:  “Because I live, you also will live."   John 14:19

Love,  Jo

Healthy Aging

Recently.  I felt guilty for feeding my aging cats cheap food;  so from Amazon  I  ordered gourmet  “Healthy Aging”.  Puss'nBoots read the label,  spit it out and tried to cover it up.  

 I feel the same about the words “Healthy Aging”.   Why should I spring for “healthy” after all these years?  The only things I have exercised throughout my life are my mouth, my mind and my fingers.  Now, at 90,  nothing else wants to move. 

Down the road, around a curve and up a terrifying driveway lives Jackie.  Jackie is 95. This five foot high woman is determined to get me to exercise.  She guilt-trips me by tooting her car horn in front of my house on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings at precisely 9:45.  In her little red car we wheel down and around the mountain curves to the gymnasium on the valley floor.  We sign in, grab a chair and join thirty or so other aging people who would rather be home in bed.  We know that if we don’t do this our kids might check us into Shady Pines.  

Margaret leads “Sit and Fit”.  She’s good at it   I like her. ...and I like the music.   I’ve played most of it for years but haven’t moved to it.  Many of our husbands had two left feet so this is as close as we'll ever get to ballroom dancing. 

Margaret pushes the button on her tape player and a lovely tune lures us into gently waving our arms.  This is a trick to make us think this half hour is going to be less strenuous than a stroll around Cub Lake.   M.  pushes the button again and some singer belts out  “Rockin'  Around the Christmas Tree”.   We’re up and movin’.  ...then a Mariachi band pulls us into a mambo.  Our slow-beating hearts speed up.   Sinatra comes on with “New York, New York”.   By the time  ol’  Blue Eyes hits the final high note,  we’re juiced up and have quit thinking about what we're going to have for lunch. ...  then “YMCA” gets us strutting around the gym like we’re in a United States military marching band.  Now, some of the marchers weigh in just under three hundred pounds.  Glancing at them makes me feel, well, ... skinny.  

Margaret doesn’t want us to die of a heart attack on her watch,  so she begins to quiet us down with Bing who croons an Hawaiian Christmas song that deludes us into imagining we’re wearing a hula skirt,  swaying on the beach at Waikiki.  East Asian instruments draw us into quick back and forth head movements like a Geisha.  Palms together,  we sit in a lotus position.  Margaret is decompressing us.

Class over, we stack our chairs, help one another to our cars and head home for a snack before shuffling to our bed for what may be a long winter’s nap.

Speaking of Christmas,  I don’t.  ...not until after my birthday on the 14^th.    I  can’t understand why Jesus would be born so close to my birthday.  For 90 years now all of the razzamatazz about His has all but eclipsed the importance of mine. 

Love,  Jo

. 

Purpose in Pain

I listen to Eric Metaxas on YouTube/Socrates in the City.  He’s brilliant, witty,  half Greek and half German. ...delightful combination.  SO..what provocative statement has he made lately that gives me pause to ponder?   "WE DIE DIFFERENTLY WHEN WE KNOW WE AREN'T GOING TO DIE.".   O.K., how am I "dying differently" from people who don't know Christ? Well, for one thing, by now I have learned that my Father always has purpose in pain.  (Oh,  and BTW you're all going to die. ...in His time.) 

Currently I am being tempted by the devil to get even with someone who has shredded my soul ...including my motives.  The tears have flowed and flowed and flowed.  It's been an awful month, emotionally. Rational thinking comes and goes. ...comes and goes.   We know that thinking and feeling are not the same part of our souls.  Like all the pilgrims before us, we trudge over mountains and through valleys of feelings before we arrive at right thinking,  ...understanding that God is bringing us to holiness. That path is strewn with pain.  It is "The Road Less Traveled". (Scott Peck wrote that book many years ago.) 

Doesn’t our Lord instruct us to “encourage one another and all the more, as you see The Day approaching?” Some Christians seem to think giving words of affirmation will make a fellow Christian proud.  How very odd,  when He tells us clearly to do exactly that.  Our Lord is not talking "flattery" here, but is talking about words that warm and encourage the heart.  If words are not your "love language" God will help you form them.  It will take quite a few to block out the ones that crush souls. 

We are the beloved children of the God of the Universe.  Cherished children.  Children that He deemed worth every drop of His blood.  

Now, darlings, think on these things.

Love,  Jo

REMAINING PARTS

Thanksgiving was good. ...with family. ...in. Penryn. ...near Sacramento.

Seven decades ago when I learned and applied this verse God got a much better return on His investment:  

“I beseech you, therefore, brethren , by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice , holy.  acceptable  unto God,  which is your reasonable service”.   Romans 12:1

    

Now, about that body:  In fourteen days it will be ninety years old.  Yikes!  ...but I have a few remaining working parts.  

Teeth?  My dentist says that if I live to be a hundred I won’t need dentures. 

Mind?   Every now and then, it focuses. 

Hearing?  Selective. ...but then, it always was.

Speech?  ...talk too much.  Plan to cut by 50 %  before reaching 91. 

Eyesight?  Macular  Degeneration.  “The wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round.”  ...not totally unpleasant.  Actually, rather colorful little circles.  

Long term memory?  Too long.

Short term memory?  Too short.

Ambulatory?  Slow, leaning on  a snazzy gold-colored cane. 

Goals?

               1. Stay in my home ‘til trumpet sounds or He comes to accompany me
                    Home. 

                2. Better communication with my family.

                  3. Continuing communication with my friends around the world. 

                  4.  Less, with idiots. 

That’s pretty much it.

Love,  Jo

Cat Scan

Dear ones: 

I mentioned in this last blog that Dee and I would be seeing the Thorasic doctor today for the report on the latest cat scan.  Here ‘tis: 

The aortic aneurism has not grown since July.  It measures 6.1 cm x 5.9 cm.  Doctor’s words: "That’s big. It may or may not grow.  It may or may not be what takes your life.  If it ruptures you will be in terrible pain.  Call 911 immediately. There is no instrument,  nor “stent”  that can help with this particular aneurism, because it is an “ascending aneurism”.  (Coming OUT of your heart, and not going in.)  Surgery is an option, but at your age, not a good one.  There is no point in having further cat scans, but that is up to you."  (As of now I won't.)  

 I know where I will be and with Whom, for eternity.  As with you, the time of our departure is up to Him.  It’s kind of like thinking about the Rapture:   Plan as if the Lord were never coming.  Live as if he were coming today.

These scriptures have been impressed upon me:  Psalm 27:13,14:  “I know that I will see the Lord’s goodness in this present life. Trust in the Lord; have faith, do not despair. Trust in the Lord.” 

Lord,  may these loved ones experience your grace, mercy and love, especially, this season. 

Love,  Jo

Whack!

 As Associate pastor to Ray Stedman, right out of seminary, the five men who elded were business men who commuted by train every morning to San Francisco.  Ted and Ray boarded with them, they laid out their Bibles to study,  then prayed for the men in their market places with whom they would share Christ that day. Often,  there were fresh reports of God’s moving upon the hearts of business people in the market places of San Francisco,  California. 

After three years, we moved to Bakersfield, 'way south, to pastor a small church that had been pioneered by a precious,  humble lady.  There were a handful of adults and lots of children. We inherited a mortgage and an elder board.  To say we experienced a climate and every other kind of change does not quite tell you what I am remembering.  I was pregnant with our third child, sick as a dog for months and it was HOT!  Eventually our beautiful little Deanna was born. 

 A few weeks later, at 6 A.M. in the morning our doorbell rang.  There stood the wife of the chairman of our elder board. ... sobbing.  I gathered her in my arms as she blurted out her story.  “He's been leaving the house early.  This morning I followed him.  He stopped at Goldie's house!  They're having an AFFAIR!"   (Wouldn't you know her name would be "Goldie"?)  E. moved into our Baby Dee's bedroom and there she lived while we prayed and found for her the perfect assignment for the rest of her life.  She joined the office staff of Overseas Crusades Mission in Palo Alto, California where her international family became her joy.   Did she ever recover from her broken heart?  That's a really tough one to get over. Is her husband in Heaven?  Is Goldie?  I don't know. 

There would be several more elder disappointments.  Boy howdy, WOULD there?  ...BUT,  people were coming to our little church as new believers shared the Gospel in their neighborhoods, on their jobs and in their schools. The Jesus Movement was on its way.  Ted trained some of the men for eldership.  Fruitvale Community Church on Rosedale Highway became the Happenin' Place.  Within a few years we sent out thirty or so new Christians into foreign missions.  We remained in that pastorate for fifteen years, then for financial reasons moved to a pastorate in Houston, Texas. The "Saga of Elder Boards" will continue in future blogs. We had much to learn about the Sovereignty of God.  At nearly 90 years old, I am still learning. Writing this blog is helping me connect some dots.

I will tell you this: The pastorate is hard enough,  without having to do your job, hindered by power-hungry, bull-headed,  adulterous, stingy,  self-serving men. They can break your heart and make you want to bail out of ministry all together.  ...but we didn't.  I still haven't. 

Suggestion: Read my dear friend Mike Loehrer's "Egoless Elders" and be encouraged and blessed.  Westbow Press

When my Ted would fall into bed, exhausted from an elder board meeting, I asked no questions.  I was flummoxed that he could go right to sleep. Finally, he told me how he did it.  "I image the face of the most frustrating elder on a golf ball, then WHACK it into KINGDOM COME!'' Some of you who read this blog had no idea that mild-mannered, gentle Ted Stone would do such a thing. When you get to Heaven, please don't tell him I told you.   


...and what about the once-little church in Bakersfield, California?  It covers a city block and from it a half-dozen other churches have emerged.  River Lakes Community Church continues to support people who train others to take the Gospel into the market places of the world.  Our dear long-in-Heaven Ray Stedman told this to Ted and me: "As I travel the world, encouraging young pastors I tell them about Ted and Jo Stone who went to a church where I thought nothing would happen, and IT DID!"  

Now, darlings,  go and make disciples.  Stay out of the chicken coop and fly with the eagles. On Monday my daughter Dee will take me to learn of the results of last week's cat scan. I will let you know.

Love,  Jo

Waiting

Old age is hard.  Our bodies become weaker by the day. We are tired. …so very tired of the battle with the world, the flesh and the devil.  If,  during our life on this earth we have failed to fully believe and embrace the fact that the Blood of Christ has cleansed us from all guilt, shame and blame, and there is one sliver of dependency for our worth upon the way others treat us,  that’s the “sliver”  satan will wiggle through. 

 I came from a critical family.  Words of encouragement were never said.  I am not speaking of  :"flattery".   Result:  When I came to Christ the first scripture I memorized was Proverbs 16:7:  When a man's ways please the Lord He makes even his enemies to be at peace with Him.  You won't be surprised to read that my struggle all my life has been about people pleasing.  Being the wife of a pastor was especially hard for me.  One of the great joys of my life is encouraging all of you who labor in God's vineyards in this nation and around the globe.   

I can’t know what the motives are in someone else.  I wouldn’t bet the rent on whether I even know my own all the time.    I take refuge in I Corinthians 5:1-5.  Sometimes I read it through streaming tears.  God says He is saving those tears in bottles.  When we are with Him, I believe we will cry them privately, with just Him.   Won’t that be GLORIOUS? Over and over, in scripture we are reassured of how wonderful “glory” will be.  We used to sing a hymn about it.  Remember?

“ Oh, that will be glory for me.  Glory for me. Glory for me.  When by His grace I shall look on His face. That will be glory;  be glory for me.”

 There is nothing to compare that “glory” with on this earth; therefore God doesn’t even try. He simply tells us again and again, that despite the agonies we endure here,  in Heaven there will be absolutely NONE.  Ol’ black Ethel Waters used to say:  “God don’ waste no agony.”  That dear saint has been in Heaven for years.  Now she knows for sure that what she said is true.

Friday, November 9th I have a cat scan.  If the darned aortic aneurism had burst I would be dead.  If it is leaking, something besides surgery may be available. If we have never mastered “waiting"  before, we will have to get better at it.  I have become confused by having so many doctors and tests.  My own doctor of many years retired and it has been frustrating to find a new one that will explain what is going on.  Lots of you who read this blog are aged. You will understand everything I am writing. I am  still here to pray and listen if you want to call me.  Email me first and I will give you my phone number. 

 Much love for you, my fellow Pilgrims.    

 Jo

Naked

Many of my generation would just as soon skip holiday gatherings. We feel three ways about still being here.  We don't know where we "fit" anymore. ...or if we "fit". ...or if we even want to "fit".

...and so it seems that I will be here for another holiday time.  Maybe I will see some of my beloved grandchildren. Did I know how much my grandma loved me?  Of course not. I realized many years later that it was probably her prayers that brought me to Christ. ...five years after she left for Heaven.

What do we really know about what God is doing at the time He is doing it?  The young think they know so much. Paul was cured of that. To the Corinthians he said: "For I determined not to know anything among you save Jesus Christ and Him crucified." 

I pretty much listen to pastor /teachers who have been in Heaven for awhile. …the ones who lived on the cusp of the “new morality” before it struck full force.  I picture some current pastors in a rowboat, paddling furiously as they see a tsunami poised and ready to roll at the crest of the hill.  From somewhere, I hear a worship team,  singing and beating the drums louder and louder, trying to drown out the gasps of the Christians who are looking toward the horizon.  Somewhere a TV blares with a preacher yelling: "The Rapture is coming!  Send money!  Buy my book!  I am the only one who has a fresh word from Gawd!  Oh, and send money!"

While the rant gets louder, I withdraw into my quiet place and hum an old Danny Kaye ditty::  “Look at the king, look at the king; look at the king, the king, the king.   The king is in the altogether, the altogether, the altogether.  The king is as naked as the day that he was born. " …and indeed, all  human kings are as naked as jay birds. … as are we all. …UNLESS we are clothed with the righteousness of Christ.  Amazing grace. I will never fully understand it until I see Him face to face. 

"For He hath made Him to be  sin for us who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him."   II Corinthians 5:21. 

.....and a repeat from last week's blog:  "To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory."   Colossians 1:27. . 

...yet another:  "For by grace are you saved by faith, and that not of yourselves;  It is a gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast."  Ephesians 2:8,9.

Oh, do vote. ...while we still can. 

Love,  Jo

Christ in you

My Ted pastored three churches,  we were on the staffs of six other ministries and were part of three sending foreign mission organizations.  One of the three church sent out lots of missionaries to foreign fields.  Some of those are in their early and late 60’s, still bearing fruit that remains. Lots and lots of it. Today I am tracking one to Africa and two to Indonesia.  I can visualize the milling  crowds in the airports as these faithful warriors are deplaning.  ...exhausted beyond words, fighting their way through customs, heading for baggage claim,  praying that their belongings made it across the pond. The adjustments from having been back here in America for a short time are horrific.  Jet lag takes its toll on the human soul. Sleep patterns are broken and must be reset.  There is no describing the emotions of leaving loved ones behind, and pressing forward in a foreign land.   One of my dear male friends  always closes his communications with “Pressing on…”   Why do they do it?  They have to.  They simply have to.  They are called saints.  So are we.  …every one of us.

This little blog keeps me connected with all of our former ministries.  I remain on the board of Round Top Retreat in Texas.  Thousands of people come to that place of learning and refreshment every year.  Nick and Euphanel declare that Ted and I had much to do with the launching of that  reproductive ministry  If we did,   we didn’t  know it.  Yes, there are some who go there who will never lead one person to Jesus.  They will go back to their homes and wait for the next retreat. Many more are in the battle for souls in their market places and communities.  At Round Top they catch their breath and re-enter the fray. 

Do not for a moment believe that God is through gathering in the Gentiles.  Yes, I believe the Rapture is the next event on His time clock, but I do not “stand looking up”,  waiting for the trumpet to sound. I live in a gorgeous place.  No one moves to Bear Valley Springs that does not have a love of nature. …but “nature” won’t save them.  Faith cometh by hearing and hearing by the Word of God.  How can they hear unless someone tells them?

I have been, once more, delving into the Book of Romans.  Oh, my goodness.  Romans 1 is grabbing me again.  Nobody has an excuse.  God has revealed Himself in nature.  Every human has a choice as to whether to find out Who did it.  Of course I know that I am “chosen”.  I  have known that since I came to Christ.  There is no way a farm girl from east Kansas could hear the Gospel unless God tracked me down. …which He did.   I don’t know who else He is tracking down here where I live. He will reveal to me all I need to know. …if I will just listen carefully to what people are saying.  …and not saying. …and earn the right to be heard.

 Every heart with Christ is a missionary.  Every heart without Christ is a mission field.  …so what’s His plan of evangelism?   We’re IT!  There is no Plan B.  “For it is Christ IN you, the HOPE OF GLORY.” 

 
Love,  Jo

Clinging

The fall leaves are clinging to my giant oaks. …not wanting to turn loose, fall to the ground and be scooped into black sacks and dumped into the garbage bins Down Below.  I too, am clinging to my Mighty Oak. …my God Who placed a passion for the lost in my soul before the foundation of the world.  

Last Saturday my church sent students from a nearby Christian college to do some manual work around my home and property.  I walked them through the history of this hallowed place.  I told them that II Timothy 2:2 has been one of my life verses. One of the fellows immediately spoke up: “That’s mine too.” …and a new relationship with a young disciple began.  He is a 25-year-old Marine vet from a family of non-believers,  has immersed his mind in scripture through the Navigators, a scripture memory disciplehip mission that was started by a Navy man on a ship in the South Pacific during World War II.   My Ted immersed himself in scripture through that same powerful discipleship method many years ago. The scriptures grabbed his heart, he turned from his intended life work, listened to the Spirit of God and during his entire life,  never veered to the left or to the right, but stayed focused on teaching scripture to those who were reliable.

Yesterday some “reliable” women of the next two generations met in my living room to begin a study of Isaiah.  Oh, my goodness!  What an adventure this is going to be!  The women He sends are all aware of  reality.  All stay current with daily news; all flee to scripture for guidance in navigating through these perilous times.  All are focused on discipleship.

Today I will hear from my dearest friends who are scattered from Africa to Indonesia and assigned points in between. Some are in their 60’s and 70's when many people retire. Not my friends. …and not me either.  I spent one morning this week with a new Christian man in his 60’s.  The thrill never diminishes while watching a scripture like II Corinthians 5:21 take root. 

My granddaughter #2 is almost a brain surgeon. Currently finishing her training in Temple University School of Medicine in Philadelphia , very soon she will be assigned to her place of residency.  We are fervently praying that she will be back in California.  L. has daily helped me figure out the right medication my new doctor has prescribed.  …a need provided.  Our beloved daughter skillfully handles financial matters. She is a phone call away at all times for all other matters relating to this last chapter of my life. Another need:  My 94-year old neighbor insists on doing some grocery shopping for me since I don’t feel safe about driving the mountain roads into town anymore.  I continue to drive in Bear Valley …carefully.  My  neighbors around the curve have a key to my house in case I push the little black button and the paramedics come racing in.  Others are teaming up to keep me in my home.  Others fetch me for church and Bible study on Tuesday night. Others of  you, far and wide support me financially, emotionally and spiritually. Daily. I  am so grateful to all of you. My Father is meeting all of my needs. …just as He promised.

Bob, the bobcat is sitting on his brisket below my deck, eyeballing a gopher hole.  My felines know he is there;  they are nervous; they hover close; they cling.   One is sitting by my computer as I write.

It’s a beautiful fall day here. I will rejoice in it.

Love,  in Jesus,

 Jo

Sports Dud

Jo, why do you tell us old stories?  I'll tell you why:  New stories are driving me crazy. Telling my old stories helps me think on God's faithfulness throughout my long life.

There was not a square inch of asphalt on our farm. There was just DIRT. One hundred sixty acres of it!  I married a town boy who played every ball/ court sport known to man.  So did his kids. His (and my) oldest one also chose NCAA wrestling and worked his way up to second and third in the nation in his weight class.  I spent a half century of my life cooking to build muscles on four athletes while cheering them on to victory from the sidelines. 


I, the mom/grandmother am a sports dud. I don't play games or watch people on TV who do.  In gatherings you can find me in a corner, having a conversation about something or Someone I deem worth talking about.  If there is a piano and somebody wants me to play it,  that's my indoor/outdoor sport. I  am cozying up to the idea of throwing some living room singing parties now that fall and winter are setting in.  I may not remember what I ate for dinner last night but I can remember and play any tune I ever heard.   ...from memory.  ...by ear. ...with a beat!  If you hum a tune, more than likely I can pick it up and, for a few moments, the cares of this present world will fade away.  Do you want to come?  Bring cookies.  

 I continue to minister under Family Life Resources, the non-profit organization that Ted launched in 1983 while still in Houston.  I am supported by people to whom we have ministered. ...no churches or organizations. ...just individuals. ...all of whom are taking the Gospel to others.  I have a Board of eight people. ...four couples. ...all in the battle for souls. Here's the scripture from one:  Sally is her name:  I do not count my life of any value, nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry I received from the Lord Jesus to testify to the Gospel of the grace of God.  Acts 20:24.

I have no idea why I am thinking about Garrison Keillor's radio show  "Prairie Home Companion" that I used to listen to on Saturday night.  His sign off words about the people in his fictional town of "Lake Woebegone" went like this:   "Well, that's the news from Lake Woebegone where the women are strong, the men are good lookin'  and all the children are above average."  So there ya' go...

Love,  Jo