“Is the Lord’s arm too short?” Sounds like a silly question at first…but it’s one God asked Moses. The multitudes of Israelites were desert-hot, road weary, and hangry for meat. For reasons we don’t know, the livestock they took with them was off limits, so there was no optional food source in sight! If you think it’s difficult to come up with a satisfactory menu for a family of four, just think about the seemingly impossible task Moses was faced with. God, merciful God, met him in his despair. “Is the Lord’s arm too short?” You will now see whether or not what I say will come true for you.” (Numbers 11:23) Then God reached down and saved them once again. The Lord’s arms aren’t too short but mine sometimes are. It’s not uncommon for me to be standing in a grocery store aisle waiting for a tall person to come along and retrieve the last box of granola on a tall shelf just out of my reach. Pap used to tell a story about a dinner guest who rudely stretched his long arm across the table to get the butter. The man of the house asked, “Son, don’t you have a tongue?” To which the ill-mannered fellow replied, “Yes, but it wouldn’t reach that far.” When I taught school, it was among my duties to chaperone the 7th/8th grade trip to Washington, DC. I was in charge of the girl bus and as you would expect, there was an incident. Quite a commotion erupted when one crying girl got her arm caught in the reclining seats…and we weren’t even out of the parking lot yet! Kids aren’t as tough as they used to be. I remember when arm wrestling was a thing. And we suffered through violent games without complaint like Red Rover in which kids formed two human chains, and then dared one person to run as fast as they could and attempt to break through. My scrawny arms suffered the most because the runner headed for the weakest link in the chain, which usually included me. Arms are always flailing on the farm; swinging weed-eaters, swatting bees, slinging hay bales, or multi-tasking chores. Imagine carrying rocks with one arm and carrying a sword in the other! This never happened at Red Gate Farm (as far as I know) but it did happen in Nehemiah 4:17. People who were building the Jerusalem wall did their work with one hand and held a weapon in the other because they were getting death threats. Figuratively, the sword is part of the Armor of God we put on to fight evil. It represents God’s word (the Bible). Good idea would be to stay “read up” and ready for any surprise attacks. One arm should always carry a “sword”. A few years ago, a woman who runs a raptor rescue longed to acquire an ambassador eagle to use in her programs. But first she had to prove herself by holding the 6-10 lb eagle on her outstretched arm for two hours. I imagine her arm sure was tired, but God’s never is. Psalm 136:12 “with a mighty hand and outstretched arm; His love endures forever.” Sometimes our arms are raised in praise or surrender, or both simultaneously. Sometimes they go up if we have a question or an answer. My arm is in the air, excitedly waving around because I know the answer to “Where do we run when we’re faced with the impossible or the tiresome? Jesus. He’s waiting with open arms. “Let the one the Lord loves rest safely in Him. The Lord guards him all day long. The one the Lord loves rests in His arms.” (Deuteronomy 33:12) Here’s the deal-- nobody and nothing is out of God’s reach. “Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save…” (Isaiah 59:1) And that’s an arms deal you don’t have to wrestle with.
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Mom led us through the woods, leaves crunching beneath our feet, until we came upon a clearing-- the Coprio Place. They had been neighbors to my Grandma Balli’s family during the early 1900’s. Scattered rocks still formed a semblance of what once was the foundation of a house, and nearby, to our delight, there were daffodils blooming! The nodding colorful blossoms were no longer in rows but now grew in a swath of yellow amidst a sea of winter brown, telling us that this was once a home. Daffodils have the ability to self-propagate and create new bulbs each year, allowing one patch to grow and bloom for decades as a lasting testimony. And here they were deep in the woods on a remote WV mountain top telling a story. Daffodils, not native to North America, are the March birth-flower and symbolize rebirth and new beginnings. They are also called “Lent Lilies” because they bloom around Easter and nothing better represents newness of life more than a conquered grave and a risen Savior. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” Famous poet William Wadsworth took a walk in 1802 through an English wood and came upon a patch of daffodils, which he commemorated in a poem, “…And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.” I can just imagine the little yellow blossoms tossing and dancing in the breeze. I am not a graceful dancer by any stretch of the imagination, but truth be told I have danced and it was not unlike a daffodil. Dancing is in my blood because my parents do-si-doed and promenaded on a float in the Strawberry Parade as members of a square-dance club, and we’re pretty sure it’s hereditary. Elvis died when I was in fifth grade and we’d stay inside on rainy day recess and dance to Elvis LPs on Mrs. Paul’s old record player. It’s unclear who enjoyed it more, Mrs. Paul who reminisced, or the new generation of us kids thinking he was cool for the first time. As expected, the dancing gene passed down and once at church my daughter was on stage in pink sequins dancing with a plunger. (I realize this raises valid questions about what denomination we attended but rest assured, it was truth-centered.) My son also got his share of the inherited dancing trait and had the fortunate opportunity to show the world at a Quinceanera for one of his 15-year-old classmates. Afterwards he reported that most of the boys were a little shy about dancing so when he and some friends approached the mom to thank her for inviting them to the party, she forcibly corralled them onto the dance floor towards her twirling daughter. Gabe was the friend in front so as the others shrunk back he ended up getting sucked into the center of the vortex and amazingly found himself dancing with the guest of honor under a spotlight. Jack and the other boys watched in awe as Gabe brought out moves they’d never seen. They cheered him on! At one point he got so wound up he performed a riveting jig with his foot, twisting it around and around in the air. Back in the truck driving home the boys told him how impressive he’d looked and he sheepishly explained what they thought was a jig, was actually his foot getting caught in a tear in the hem of her expensive poofy dress and him trying to free himself! I conclude, on life’s big dancefloor, being graceful (Grace-full) might not have much to do with how we move but more to do with the One who moves us. In Jesus we will find freedom. He is the author of new beginnings… And sometimes reminders can be as simple as a daffodil or a walk in the woods… The whistle blew, steam shot forth from the massive Shay engine and a black cloud boiled out of the smokestack as the gears began to turn. It was awe-inspiring how a coal fire could move such a mammoth thing up a steep mountain. An unexpected souvenir we took with us from Cass Scenic Railroad that day was a ton of gritty coal ash in our hair that took us several days to completely wash out. Like most of my West Virginia friends, I am well acquainted with ashes…especially coal ash. When my soon-to-be-husband wanted to make a good impression on his in-laws, he offered to do the routine chore of emptying the ash pan in the stove (which allows air to flow and the fire to burn brighter). Mom instructed him to carry the pan every so carefully as not to spill any on the vinyl flooring and then back out the door, pushing it open with his backside. Under my dad’s watchful eye, Jeff tried to do everything right and was concentrating so much on not spilling any hot coals that he heard wrong or was just showing off and walked backwards all the way through the house. He truly made an impression because years later his extra effort and backing skills are still talked about. When our kids were little they’d roll down the mound at the side of the cellar in tire inner tubes but it wasn’t until recently I learned the mound had been one of Grandma’s ash piles. She would dump coal ashes there and over time built up a nice little hill that helped insulate the cellar and keep the potatoes from freezing! And apparently the ledge around the garden fence was also another one of her ash piles, purposefully constructed to prevent water from flowing into the garden from the pond. About the only other use I knew for coal ashes was before everyone had 4-wheel drive vehicles, we’d scatter the ashes on the slick, frozen, steep driveway to provide friction and get cars unstuck. Treasured wood ashes on the other hand have many uses! According to an article by Claude Davis on askaprepper.com, you can sprinkle some in corners or areas you don’t want roaches, mice, slugs, or deer. You can use ashes to preserve seeds in clay containers, or fruits and vegetables in an in-ground ash pit. And water mixed with wood ash can make lye water which kills bacteria. (Numbers 19:17 possibly points to this when an unclean person is instructed to mix water with ashes in a vessel.) Some homesteading websites also suggest you can brush your teeth with ashes made into a paste, but you have to draw the line somewhere… In the Bible they were always putting ashes on their heads and wearing sackcloth to show repentance. This year Ash Wednesday falls on Feb. 14—Valentine’s Day. What better way to fill our hearts than to lovingly repent (which can be symbolized by ashes). Job 42:2 gives us an example as he tells the Lord, “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted.” In verse three he admits he didn’t fully understand God’s plan and spoke of things he didn’t understand. (Haven’t we all been there, done that?) But in verse 6 he repents, “Therefore I retract, and I repent in dust and ashes.” In 1Kings 13:3 Jeroboam had one more chance for repentance. “And he gave a sign the same day, saying, This is the sign which the Lord hath spoken; Behold the altar shall be rent, and the ashes that are upon it shall be poured out.” Is there anything I can get rid of so the fire of the Holy Spirit could burn brighter in my life? I don’t know about you, but as for me, I’ve got some ashes to take out before the train leaves the station. We’re a month in from receiving cool gadgets for Christmas, and many of you have probably been guinea pigs for those “sharable” gifts. Growing up I recall a friend of my great-aunts who brought his new diabetic testing kit to Christmas dinner. He considered it miraculous that once a drop of your blood was squeezed onto a strip of paper he could tell if you were a diabetic or not without the necessity of med school. He wanted to test everyone but as the twinkle in his eye bounced off the pricking needle in his shaking hands, we all shrank into the furniture. Finally a couple adults reluctantly volunteered as tribute. It was a Christmas I can never forget. This year my son received a diagnostic scanner for cars that when plugged in will tell everything malfunctioning on that vehicle. Imagine if we had one of those for our soul. When our “check engine” light came on (and it would daily), we could immediately determine what needs worked on. Some things require much work but occasionally the fix is simple. Have you ever noticed how often an electronic problem can be fixed with unplugging it and then plugging it back in or flipping the right switch? While visiting Jeff’s mom in NJ we set up her Christmas tree and Christmas village with several ceramic houses and many many electrical cords. All was well until we decided to vacuum up the last of the fallen pine needles. When we turned on the vacuum cleaner everything went black. We “blew a fuse”. And then later on the farm in Hacker Valley, we again tripped the breaker when the circuit panel just couldn’t handle lights from 25 Christmas trees and the air compressor needed to blow up a flat tire. We were flipping breakers back and forth like our well-caffeinated friends who got an espresso machine for Christmas. The power source is critical. I’m not a trained expert but being raised a country girl has taught me a thing or two about power. Coal power is efficient and effective. Wood powered heat is rewarding and satisfying, speaking to a primal part of our soul. Electric power is always appreciated but is not always reliable in the mountains. The power of prayer is undoubtedly real. Many strong little communities are held together by prayer chains, and it shows. Powerball is not actually power-full so don’t let it fool you. If you’re given the opportunity to take a power nap in the middle of the day between cutting filth and gathering wood, take it. And in church, when my Pap sang “There is power, power, wonder-working power in the precious blood of the lamb”, he meant it. There’s an incredible power source that people sometimes overlook but it sure needs tapped into! Multiple scientific studies have been done involving scripture connected with neuroscience. One tested people of all ages who read the Bible four or more times a week. After three days they noticed a transformation happening. Loneliness went down 30 percent. Bitterness went down 43 percent. Watching pornography decreased 60-100 percent. Anger went down 32 percent. Yes, Grandpa Nelson, there is power in the blood of the Lamb! Let’s challenge ourselves in 2024 to read more of the Bible. May it clean out some cobwebs in our internal breaker box, and keep us grounded so the power of God can work through us as we understand more fully the sacrifice of our Lord. The stakes are higher than at a layman’s diabetic testing party. Jesus gave His life and shed His blood in our place so we could have life everlasting. “But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7) That’s a light that will never go out and a gift worth sharing! |
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September 2024
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