Originally posted June 30, 2015, at 3riversgrace.org blog. This seemed like a good week to repost it.
Recently, my husband and I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. I left him -- and my raincoat -- in the car, entertaining only the briefest of thoughts that maybe I’d need that coat. “The weather has been so finicky lately, I should bring it, but I don’t want to go back now.”
As I checked out at the register, I heard the distinct sound of heavy rain on the store’s roof. Sigh. Well, at least I could summon my husband to pick me up at the door. I waited outside with my bags and chatted it up with an older woman who came out and stood next to me while her granddaughter tried to get the attention of their ride. Of course, the topic was the weather.
“It’s so unpredictable! One minute it’s raining, the next it’s sunny,” she said in a thick eastern European accent. “The day starts out hot and humid, then turns cold. You don’t know what to put on in the morning. You don’t know whether to wear sandals or boots!” I smiled and nodded my agreement that it’s been frustrating.
It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what it was she said next as I was watching for our car.
A form of thiis post first appeared at the Three Rivers Grace blog on 10/20/15.
There’s a lesson about pronouns my mom taught me when I was an early teen. Unlike the grammar nerd I was to become, my mom generally didn’t think of communication in terms of parts of speech, but there was one lecture about pronouns she gave me that I have never forgotten.
Don’t talk about yourself so much. OK, in my mind it morphed into Keep your usage of the first person singular to a minimum.
My eyes are dry
My faith is old
My heart is hard
My prayers are cold.
And I know how
I ought to be
Alive to You
And dead to me.
With the audacity of Job, I draw a line in the sand and say, “Here, and no further.” Stop. hurting. me.
This post first appeared at the Three Rivers Grace blog on 10/13/15.
Charles Spurgeon wrote, “I have heard of two infidels, one of whom said to his fellow, ‘If you had to go to jail for twelve months, and could only have one book, what book would you choose?’ He was very surprised when his companion said, ‘Oh, I should take the Bible!’ The first one said, ‘But, you do not believe in it; I wonder that you should choose that.’ ‘Oh! but,’ rejoined his friend, ‘it is no end of a book.’’ And then Spurgeon adds, “His record is true, it is ‘no end of a book.’”
As part of a conquering Christendom, this “no end of a book” was sewn into armor, displayed on gilt stands in soaring cathedrals, and held aloft to bless the tools of war before battle. Vanquished peoples were forced to swear allegiance to it; following its precepts resulted in purges by magisterial church officers for crimes of “piety”; and men were burned at the stake at the behest of kings and popes for daring to translate it into the common languages.
A more subtle, though significantly more pervasive and persuasive, role is the one in which centuries of biblical literacy laid the foundation for our generation to receive a culture that has incorporated the language, principles and themes of the Bible into its literature, its governance, its legal principles -- even its daily speech! How often have you heard these phrases or maxims?
Do you know why I called you Hannah?
In 1989, it was not a popular name. I should know. For a few months in 1988, among my many duties as a small town newspaper reporter in southwest Connecticut, I would often spend my Saturday mornings driving the circuit from the library to the community center to the ball fields, taking pictures of children -- top classroom readers, girl scouts, cubbies, T-ball champs. Every child in the community who participated in any event or organization was granted a picture in The Journal.
By the weekend, the shock and horror we first felt at the news out of Roseburg, Oregon, transitioned into somber reflection, sorrow and prayer. A shooter killed a professor and eight students in a community college classroom. This disregard for life and ravaging of peace is not natural in God’s order, and it shrieks the perversion and pain of the sin-stricken world. The creation groans. Death is inescapable, and sometimes it comes violently and unexpectedly.
If through our tears for the families of the victims we study the responses of the world, what would we see? There has been appropriate mention of the untimeliness of the deaths and heartfelt attention to the personalities lost and dreams cut short, but within two days, most of the talk devolved into social debates about guns and media handling and political posturing. Move along, move along, no need to inspect death too closely now.
Laura Miller aka mrsdkmiller
Looking for a list of articles published around the web?
Looking for posts written in response to 5-Minute Friday prompts? Click here:
Her March Isn't Over
Across the River
When God Pries My Fingers Off My Children
Life's Defining Moments
To the Christian Wife Who Berated Her Husband in Front of My Daughter
Zeal and Grace in France
An Unconventional Love Story
Seeing What's in Front of Our Eyes
Remembering Why I Called You Hannah
Love Your Sister.
Because He Came Home
Go Valiantly! A Prayer for New Homeschooling Moms
© lauraenglandmiller, #thereyougothinkingagain, Laura E Miller
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