One verse at a time

In March of 1958 seventy-five teenagers were on the ski slopes in Dodge Ridge with us for three days. Some were from our youth group in Peninsula Bible Church in Palo Alto; about half were not.  We had prayed with the Christians for weeks, encouraging them to bring their school buddies with no agenda except to be their friend, making the invisible Christ visible through their lives. There were no meetings until the very last night when a Young Life friend of ours gave a simple message about Who Christ is and what His coming means to us. There was no formal invitation, but here's what happened: We were up all night leading teenagers to Christ!  Arriving back home, exhausted and in wonder at God's Amazing Grace, my Ted presented to me a passel of brand new Christian girls to disciple.  Disciple? I had no clue where to begin. I invited the girls to our home after school on Friday.  I thought Ephesians was a very nice Book in the Bible  so I turned to it and began to read to the girls. ...one verse at a time. They came back!  Again and again. Friday after Friday. I am still opening the Bible to Ephesians 1:1-14 with a brand new Christian. There they will discover that the Lord has deposited everything in their personal Bank Account that they will ever need.

Last year Patsy, in her late 60's, went Home to be with Jesus. She has been ready since a night at a ski resort in northern California when she was seventeen years old. Another, Joanne came to see me at Round Top last October.  She has been married to Jim, a pastor for many years. She told me she continues to invite  new believers into the first chapter of the Book of Ephesians!  I wonder where Vicki, Carol and all the other girls are.  God knows.  He has never left them nor forsaken them.

Last Saturday two hired Chimney Sweeps came to clean out my stoves and fireplaces. It's was a dirty and dangerous job, including their climbing around on my very high roof. About half way into the job David came to me with a forlorn look on his face.  "Mrs. Stone, I am so sorry.  I broke your glass table when a piece of my equipment fell on it!"  "David, it's all right. It's just a 'thing'. Nothing on this earth is important except Jesus."  Pause. ... and then he said, "I know that. My oldest daughter has just urged me to get back in church." "Great, David. Do you know Jesus?" "Yes, I do!".  Thumbs up, and he went back to work. When the two men finished, I fetched a couple of copies of "The Message", followed them to their truck to pay them and hand them these simple Bibles. I waited, then knew from the Spirit to ask:  "Would you like to read a couple of verses from these little Bibles?"  Both said they would, so I suggested that David turn to John 3:16 and 17 and read. He did.  Cody was quiet.  I waited, then asked:  "Cody, would you like to know this Jesus Who wrote you these words?" "Well, my family is not religious."  "Good!  Neither am I!  David and I have a relationship with Jesus Who wanted a relationship with us so much that He died on a dreadful cross so we could be freed from all of our sin and have a relationship with God.  Did you know that?" "No".  "Well then, would you like to invite Jesus into your heart?"  "Yes, I would!" I prayed and without any prompting Cody repeated every word after me. ...and then he said,  "I feel so light!"  Tears.  I turned to David and encouraged him to begin to read to Cody each week; one verse at a time. That night a call came from their boss who offered to pay for the table.  In our conversation it became evident that he is a Christian. I told him about Cody and he was amazed.   Do I want him to pay for the table?  Of course not!  That table is worth its weight in Holy Gold as a door-opener for the Gospel!

When Jesus left this earth He very emphatically told us, His beloved children to "Go and make disciples".  Because of His grace to us, by faith we obey Him.  Of course we can invite people into our church, but we are to feed them. ...one bite (verse) at a time.
                                                
                                                       OLD HYMN: MAKE ME A BLESSING

Out in the highways and byways of life, many are weary and sad
Carry the sunshine where darkness is rife; making the sorrowing glad.

MAKE ME A BLESSING; MAKE ME A BLESSING
OUT OF MY LIFE MAY JESUS SHINE
MAKE ME A BLESSING; O SAVIOR I PRAY'
MAKE ME A BLESSING TO SOMEONE TODAY.

Love,  Jo

Crud and its purpose

On a Christmas Eve about eight years ago some of us empty-nesters were having kind of a lonely dinner at the Apple Shed without our grown-up kids.  Ted and I had just met the owners, the Novingers. George looked across the table at me and said, "Do you play the piano?" "Uh huh." "Well, get over to that old piano and let's do some Christmas singing."  I am still at that piano on the first Saturday night of every month, bringing fun to myself and many diners who come through the door.

Last Saturday night I had just begun to play my first set when a lovely woman came in,  found a seat, ordered dinner and listened.  Intently.  Pretty soon she said, "You have no idea how you are making my day. I am moving from Colorado to Oregon where I will live near a daughter and family. All the way from Flagstaff today I have been singing 'Holy, Holy, Holy'."  "Well, come on over here to the piano and let's sing it together!"  She did. We sang some more hymns, "God Bless America"  and wound up with some foot stompin' Gospel.

By then the Novingers had come in with guests, sat down and joined in. Then came Sandi and her fellah from Bakersfield, and Tasha, her husband and children. Her little boy wanted me to play "Jail House Rock".  Chick and Patti came in and a bunch of others. ...then came a little boy with a fistful of nickels and a couple of quarters, plunked them down and said, "Do you take change?"  "Sure". "...then will you play 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star?' " The party was rollin'!

The other day I heard Dr. Charles Stanley say this on TV:  "When I was six years old I overheard a woman say to another lady: 'I like that little boy, Charles'. That 'little  boy Charles' has never forgotten how good that lady's words made a little fatherless kid like me feel."  Question: Why do so many Christians not seem to get this?  Golden words about our character give us wings!  God is building His character in us from the second we invite Christ in.  Does that not give us the privilege and joy of telling one another that the fragrance wafting from them is delightful!   Hebrews 10:24 and 25  instruct us to love and encourage one another and all the more as we see the Day approaching.  What day?  ...the day we are outta here.  Words have power.  The lack of words has power too.  Jesus says words to us.  He tells us He has made us right with God.  See if you can absorb that before you go on to digest that we now have peace with God and can come to Him anytime we want. You bet we will have trouble, but He is right in the middle of it with us, never leaving us for one nanosecond but is giving us His grace to endure it.  Simultaneously He is building up patience in us as we experience His faithfulness in the midst of the crud. Then. ....Voila! We have grown into being people of character. ...the character of Christ!  Every now and then take a "sounding".  You will find that God's love has been as deep as the ocean all the time.

Today, speaking of "crud", in the downstairs bedroom a crew is tearing out the walls and floors that have been saturated with water from a leaky bathroom fixture. ...not unlike what's going on with my aging body. I wonder what purpose Jesus has for this?  We have been through a hurricane,  a flood and a fire. My son-in-law Brent came to assess the damage downstairs  and said,  "Mom, God has always covered yours and Dad's backs. He will again."  I love that man my daughter married.

Your words of encouragement spur me on.  I hope mine do the same for you.

THROUGH IT ALL; THROUGH IT ALL
I'VE LEARNED TO TRUST IN JESUS
I'VE LEARNED TO TRUST IN GOD
THROUGH IT ALL; THROUGH IT ALL
I'VE LEARNED TO DEPEND UPON HIS WORD

Love,  Jo

PONDERINGS

It has taken over eight decades for me to be content with living one day at a time, rather than letting several days eat me up at once. My grandmother and my mother had strokes. They passed down to me their relentless drive to accomplish more than is humanly possible in one day.  There isn't a whit of  phlegmatic in me.  I am basically choleric/melancholy which balances out rather well when I remember to check which one is spinning out of control. The melancholy side of me must have writing, studying, teaching, the out-of-doors with plenty of time to pray and ponder.  The choleric side of me must put all of that into action by teaching, counseling, entertaining,  music, communicating  or doing something I consider productive.  For sixty-some years Ted tried to teach me to pace myself.  He couldn't.  Since he is gone, II Thessalonians 4:17 is "pacing" me;  ... instructing me to  "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, mind your own business and work with your hands".  On the surface it sounds so right, ...but so boring. ...and scary.  I might find myself without a project, for Pete's sake,  and then I might feel worthless, lonely, depressed, weepy and fool myself into believing I was never bored when Ted was alive.  If I flee from being quiet out of fear, then Jesus is edged out of surprising me. ...and He loves to surprise us.

I think Jesus chose all of the basic personalities to be his followers.   None of them had been indwelt by the Holy Spirit yet,  so their old sin natures remained unchecked.   Later, we get a short report about the distancing and later reconciliation between Paul and Mark, but we are left pretty much to our own imaginations about what went on among all these guys before the Cross and Resurrection as they walked, talked, ministered, ate,  served, prayed, healed, sweat, fished, argued, strategized and slept together day and night for well over three years.  Unwelcome memories of their along-the-trail disputes may have provided them extraordinary patience as they put up with the bickering and murmuring that is inevitable when a church comes together.  Not only the men locked horns, but the women squabbled.  I chuckle about Paul 's calling in the troops to tell "Odious" and "Soon-Touchy" in Philippians 4:2 to "knock it off and just get along!"  ...Right!   ...then there's Martha's whining to Jesus about her sister, Mary.  Let's don't even think about the jealousies that went on with the musicians! ...and the choosing of elders?   Everyone was a new believer, so right there, the biblical qualifications for an elder were but a distant dream for the Apostles.  I know that I am writing like a recovering pastor's wife. ...which I am.

That four-year-old little guy,  "Coleman",  in the new movie,  "Heaven is for Real" was right on.  My Ted and his younger brother Art, both of whose lives on this earth ended with a brain tumor, were not imaginative in the least, but both saw heavenly beings while they lay waiting for that Sweet Chariot that was Comin' for to Carry Them Home.

We're still here,  my brothers and sisters, so let's give away all He has given us, which is pretty much everything we ever really needed.

                                             GIVE THEM ALL TO JESUS

Are you tired of chasing pretty rainbows?
Are you tired of spinning 'round and 'round?
Wrap up all the shattered dreams of your life
And at the feet of Jesus, lay them down

He never said we'd only see sunshine;
He never said there would be no rain.
He only promised a heart full of singing
At the very things that once brought pain.

GIVE THEM ALL; GIVE THEM ALL; GIVE THEM ALL TO JESUS
SHATTERED DREAMS, WOUNDED HEARTS, BROKEN TOYS
GIVE THEM ALL; GIVE THEM ALL; GIVE THEM ALL TO JESUS
AND HE WILL TURN YOUR SORROWS INTO JOY

Love, Jo

Snow time

Our three children were born five years apart. Ted, little Doug and I spent most of those first five years buried in Minnesota snow as we pressed through for Ted to graduate from Northwestern Bible College. We did not have the blessing or understanding of either of our families-of-origin which meant that we were either going to "fish or cut bait". How unexpected it was then that two years into our marriage and college years came a call from my oldest-by-eleven-years brother in Kansas who was in a desperate time in his life and called us for help. My dear Ted said, "Let's go!". We packed our baby boy between us smack in front of the heater in our '40 Ford and headed down the ice-covered highway thirteen hours to the south, arriving in the middle of the night at my brother's farmhouse. That very night he asked Christ into his life. Ted insisted that our little Doug and I stay with my brother and his little boy in that drafty central-heated house ("central heating" meaning a pot-bellied stove in the center of one room) for a month to help my brother get some biblical truth wedged under his new belt of Truth. God provided a country evangelist who lived down the muddy road to disciple my brother when little Doug and I returned to Minneapolis by train.

Apartment dwellers like us had no garages. Many a morning Ted started his day by shoveling the snow off of five or six cars before he uncovered ours. A common sight was seeing someone lose their footing, land on their kiesters, and slip and slide until they gained some traction to get both feet under them. We never laughed because we could be next.

This week's snowstorm has been nothin' for me. Dee and Brent came and shoveled off my driveway so I could get out if I wanted to, but I didn't want to until Tuesday night when I hitched up my team of horses (Oh, wait, that was a couple of generations ago when I lived on a Kansas farm.)... rather I backed out my Honda 4 X 4 and drove down to the Valley floor to fetch two wonderful women who were coming from Bakersfield for a night and a day who would never have been able to make it up my long snow and ice-covered driveway in their city car.

My Thursday discipleship girls insisted on celebrating my 85th birthday this week. I clearly stated that I wanted no "stuff", but desired that they write down a memorized verse that is transforming them from the inside out, and preferably one that they are sharing with someone who is searching for peace with God. It was a blessed time together; today I am re-reading their verses and notes and my heart is full to overflowing with joy for His faithful transforming work in each of their lives.

Paul Crouch went Home recently. That man reached his goal before the Lord took him: getting the Gospel by way of TBN television around the world. ...another wife/partner left behind to find her way alone. ...and she will. ...just as many before us have. I think of the pioneer women whose husbands died or were killed on the trails to Oregon or California. They dug their own husband's graves, grabbed their children's hands, climbed up on their prairie schooners and hit the trail.

A chaplain friend of mine in a southern California hospital responded this week to last week's blog: "Your sharing your heart is a great blessing to so many, much more than you know. It gives me encouragement to continue sharing mine, knowing that in ways we cannot comprehend here, it is making a difference in eternity." This man himself, Dan, has lost two sons; one a small boy, the other a college student who drowned in Lake Shasta while swimming with his classmates. The pain is indescribable when we lose a child. ...and to try to fully absorb that our Heavenly Father sent His only Son to be born in a filthy manure-spattered barn, then turned His back on that Son as He chose to bear our sins alone,  still eludes me. Again and again, this old George Beverly Shea song thrums in my soul:

Oh, the wonder of it all; the wonder of it all
Just to think that God loves me
Oh, the wonder of it all; the wonder of it all
Just to think that God loves me.

Love, Jo

Mining for gold

In our upstairs office are two 5-drawer filing cabinets loaded with gold. My Ted's sermon outlines have been waiting for me to brave the melt-downs that I know will accompany my taking out each folder and mining the gold that is hidden there. As I open those filing cabinets you can expect to glean more nuggets from my findings. ...but first I must tell you the way our oxen team pulled the load placed upon us by the Lord. Ted was a visionary. I cannot count the ministries he pioneered. A visionary must have teammates that tend to the nuts and bolts that keep the team moving forward. ...kind of like the Nascar mechanics stationed along the racetrack. We accepted two pastorates whose boards did not wish us to even mention the word "discipleship".  Mercifully, our Lord promoted us and turned us loose to go and make disciples.  What a privilege to work alongside a man who knew what his calling was and never missed a beat as we were set free to obey His assignment for us.

Being woman,  most of my senses are usually alive.  While Ted was teaching,  my mind was on leading the worship that would prepare the hearts of the people for Ted's messages, thinking about the lonely people I needed to invite to our home,  and the people-to-people connections I needed to make throughout the week; therefore Ted's messages are more impacting to me now than they were when Ted was delivering them. Is there anyone receiving this blog who can identify with that?

There are many other wives of full-time ministers of the Gospel who are left behind to complete their husband's work. Elaine Stedman is still living and continues to dispense Ray's messages around the world from their website entitled: raystedman.org.  Jeanne Hendricks is left behind to gather all of Howie's countless messages and memorabilia and place all in his personal library at Dallas Theological Seminary.  Both of these men were life influencers to Chuck Swindoll, my husband, and countless other teacher/disciplers who are scattered around the world. I have only a handful of Ted's taped messages and have published them under iTunes, 12stoneslegacy, Ted's podcasts and other venues. Now it is time to mine the gold from his printed outlines.

Son Doug's death and the aftermath accompanying his Home going so soon after Ted left for Heaven has a reoccurring effect on my emotions.  Two of my dear friends have lost their sons in the past few days. My heart breaks for them. Grieving the loss of a child is quite different from even losing a spouse. We remember feeling our babies stretching our tummies almost to bursting, their births, nursing them, holding them, bonding with them, watching them take their first steps, beginning to talk...all the amazing things little ones do that only a mother is privileged to see.  We forget whatever pain they have caused themselves and others and remember things about them that no one else knows. Why am I telling you this this week?  I don't know.  Do I have to know? This I do know:  My precious husband and son are safe with Jesus. I read one of Ted's messages yesterday in which he says that since there is no time once we take our last breath on earth, we will all arrive in Heaven at the same time. Ted and Doug, are you in a holding pattern, much as both of you as pilots circled the field until given clearance by the traffic controller?  I don't know. Does any human know? Do we fall back on simply trusting God for everything in the here and now and eternity? The answer is "Yes"!

Yesterday, with the select women the Lord brings to my living room for discipleship, the Holy Spirit insisted upon leading the class Himself. ...so much for preparation.

                                                  OLD HYMN: SWEETLY RESTING
Long pursued by sin and Satan, weary, sad, I longed to rest
Then I found this heavenly shelter opened in my Savior's breast.

In the rifted Rock I'll hide me 'til the storms of life are past
All secure in this blest refuge heeding not the fiercest blast.

NOW I'M RESTING, SWEETLY RESTING IN THE CLEFT ONCE MADE FOR ME
JESUS, BLESSED ROCK OF AGES, I WILL HIDE MYSELF IN THEE

Love,  Jo