House Hunting by Wil Triggs

These days, Lorraine and I have developed a new kind of interest in the grocery store. It’s not about the sale items or the seasonally fresh selections we sometimes can’t resist. It’s not about the people who work there, though that’s another story. No, this interest has to do with people we might see there.

It started back in April when we hadn’t seen anyone in what seemed like forever. It had just been a few weeks then. One day we saw Micah in the Jewel.

She was so excited she let out a little scream of a hello. Really, she just said hi. Lorraine answered her. Well, you knew they were excited. You could tell they were doing one of those hugging things that really wasn’t a hug at all. They didn’t even touch, social distancing and all, but they managed to express how happy they were to see each other. Even with masks on. No touch. You could just tell.

That was the beginning, but it keeps happening. So now we’re always looking for people at the store—it’s like a bonus. Besides food to feed our bodies, there’s always the chance we will see someone we used to see most every week. It's sort of a tonic for the heart to see these people.

Just yesterday we saw Di in the pasta aisle at Caputo's.

But it’s not just at the grocery stores. It’s starting to happen in other places.

Think of Lucy spotting Mr. Tumnus at the lamppost in a strange always-winter land or eating a delicious meal with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their lodge. It’s that kind of warm sense of wonder, for just a few sweet seconds at a time, and then we move on to whatever is next.

I look around at the people pumping gas next to me at the station. Hardware and home improvement stores also make for happy hunting when it comes to finding long-lost relatives who aren’t really lost and aren’t nearly as distant as they seem right now.

Last week Brandon waved at me across the parking lot, and I waved back as we drove away. It was a hat trick of sorts at Costco, just a week ago, where we got to see Evelyn, Becky and Roger in a single visit. They all looked great.

Sunday night I saw Bill at the baptism service. He was so happy to see me and everyone else. It was like waking from a sort of dazed dream to see, yes, all these people, still here after these months. And it was just a moment of joy, simple and kind of amazing. Like a little summer firefly at twilight, the light glowing naturally for a few seconds and moving on, then raising itself again and giving another summer green glow.

This week I got to talk to Jim and Patte. Granted, this was on Zoom, but I got to hear their voices. They’re still there with all the insights and challenging thoughts and open prayer requests and the desire to talk about poetry together.

Tuesday, I got to see Wendell, which seemed miraculous. I walked out of the church office and there he was, standing on the right side of the plexiglass by Lorraine’s reception area. We said hello, and he spoke in the life-affirming way that he always does. And I was lifted up. There’s nothing quite like shaking Wendell’s hand. And we used to do that normal, everyday greeting almost every Sunday. So just seeing him now, well, that was more than swell.

We used to see all these people and more, Sunday after Sunday. and it was just the way it was. Now, though, I think we realize what a true treasure our gathering is, or was, and will be.

I need to tell you a secret.

All these people and me and the others—we all live in the same house. We’re used to seeing each other all the time. Different rooms, one home. It’s a great house. But we aren’t exactly there right now. Not quite.

We love that house. I especially love working with other people on lifelong renovation projects or brainstorming ways to add on to the house. Or a group of us get creative and change out the color of a wall or plant spring bulbs in the fall to see the burst of color in the spring. Sometimes it’s great to just sit in that house and share a meal or pray and talk about life together.

But our big loveable house seems to have moved somewhere we can’t quite find. Like Dorothy’s house that the tornado picks up and takes on a technicolor journey, it eventually will land back where it started. This crazy movie of flying monkeys and lions, scarecrows, witches and tin men who will really turn out to be people around town, people who live in the same house with me. The ones we bump into wherever.

This house we’re longing for—not everyone has that abode.

There’s always room for more in ours. Because, after all, the house is us. Handcrafted by Christ, we are the house. What a gift of grace it is to walk this life together. To hear God’s Word and see it come to life in and through us. Even in this crazy pandemic time, though distanced and masked, we live it and share it together. Maybe not in the pew, but in the dairy aisle of the grocery store or by the light bulbs in the hardware store or pumping regular gas in the tank this week. Little moments of home along the way.

So, look for me or another one of us when you’re out on an errand today. And let's make room for more.

Even the sparrow finds a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
    my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house,
    ever singing your praise! 
Psalm 84:3-4

Check Out Lane by Lorraine Triggs

In the last four months, the 30 or so Kindergartners in Bible school became first-graders without us. We never told the story of Hudson Taylor or marched and waved palm branches through the preschool hallway on Palm Sunday. We missed seeing the wonder on the children’s faces when they heard that Jesus is alive. No one attended the end of the year party, and the Kindergarten room has been uncharacteristically tidy.

This probably explains why I noticed the young shopper at Caputo’s pushing her shopper-in-training cart around. The little one was just about the right age for some Kindergartner antics. She didn’t disappoint.

For a while, she happily trailed her mother down the aisles until, right there in front of her was the eye-catching, mouth-watering display of bright orange Utz Baked Cheddar Cheese Balls in big, round tubs with bright blue lids.

What was a shopper-in-training to do? She reached for a tub, hugged it close to her chest and dropped into the cart, clearly pleased with her single purchase that filled the entire cart.

Her mother came up behind her and simply shook her head at her daughter’s cart but didn’t tell her to put it back.

“Those cheese balls aren’t going to make it to check out,” I commented to my husband as we pushed our cart to the checkout lanes. “Her mama isn’t going to let that happen.”

We reached the checkout lanes at the same time, and I couldn’t resist telling the mom what a good mama she was and how much I enjoyed watching her daughter grocery shop.

Sure enough, no cheese balls left Caputo’s.

I wish I had the same assurance as I fill my cart with what I think I need. Maybe that pint of greed won’t make it to the checkout lane today. Unfortunately, greed not only makes it to the checkout lane but also into the plastic bag and all the way home.

Even though I pass on today’s special on gossip, I can’t resist the two-for-one deal of complaining and discontent. I like bargains as much as the next person, but as soon as I spot pride in its original packaging, I don’t count the cost and carefully place two or three or more packages in the cart.

Perhaps that’s the problem. I don’t count the cost, which becomes apparent as I rummage through the clutter in my life. What am I going to do with another jar of greed on the shelf? No worries, I’ll think of something. What’s this bottle of selfishness doing way back there? It’s way past its sell-by date. It still might be good. I’ll set it aside for whenever I might need it.

That creates a whole new problem according to Colossians 3:8-9, "But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices."

Sins aren’t to be set aside for future use; they’re to be “put to death” and “put off.” Don’t take on the burden of sin. Jesus has already done that for us. I can take that bottle of selfishness or carton of sour ungratefulness straight to the trash bin—not to earn extra grace points with God, but to live out the graced life I already have in Christ.

As the clutter from sin shrinks, it frees up space for compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience and forgiveness. All I need for my daily bread here and the feast to come.

Riding in the Car, I Mean, Sitting on the Ground with Jesus by Wil Triggs

“I’m sorry about my speedometer,” Mary, the driver said. The gauge in her car bounced back and forth from zero to 120, making a sound like an overly caffeinated metronome trying to make sure I stayed in tempo with the “Flight of the Bumblebee.”

“It usually works fine,” she explained, “until we hit 90, and then it just starts to freak out like this. It needs fixing.”

Great, I thought. We’re going to get killed in a car accident.

Mary was weaving from lane to lane and even onto the median, trying to make up for lost time. We were moving so fast that the other cars traveling at a normal speed looked like they were parked. I imagined coverage of the tragic accident in the local news.

Who will break the news to my parents? They won’t believe it. Mom and Dad thought I was at an evening service at a church I never went to except for these Saturday music gigs, just a half mile from our home.

But when I got to the church that late afternoon, I discovered they had rented a bus for the orchestra and choir to go to San Diego for a special service in Balboa Park. The bus was running late. “Sorry,” explained the concert master, who was a first chair violinist in the high-school orchestra. “I thought San Diego was next weekend,” he shrugged. People started to climb onto the bus.

There were no cellphones. I couldn’t call and explain to my parents.

One problem. There were too many people to fit on the bus. The driver wouldn’t drive an over-filled bus. He could be fired. There were words between him and the organizers, but he wasn’t going to budge.

After watching the debate, Mary offered to drive her car. So, some of us orchestra members crammed ourselves and our instruments into her sedan. But the delay had thrown us off schedule, and we needed to get to the service on time. She turned the car’s air conditioning on high. We wound our way from the church to the freeway and headed south toward San Diego.

That’s when the tapping began. It was loud and wouldn’t stop unless she decelerated to something closer to the speed limit.

This wasn’t even my church, not even my kind of church exactly.

I was at my high school at the end of the term when a friend of a friend asked me, “Can you play the Hallelujah Chorus?”

“Sure,” I said. The trumpet solo part was fun to play.

“Would you come and play at our Saturday night service? We need a trumpet player. One who can do the Hallelujah Chorus.”

“Okay, yeah,” I said. “I’ll come.”

Thus began my summer at what turned out to be a series of Pentecostal healing services on Saturday nights. Most weeks we played at the church near my home. We travelled into Los Angeles several times and now this one trip to San Diego where we soared by the other vehicles going at the normal traffic flow rate, all to the tap, tap, tap of the overtaxed speedometer.

Where was the California Highway Patrol? It was only a matter of time before one of them pulled up behind us, siren screeching and lights blazing. “What kind of Christian witness would that be?” my frightened self asked. But it never happened.

We arrived at the Balboa Park venue in half the normal time. No car accident. No speeding citation.

It turned out that there were two different “Hallelujahs” that we played—Handel’s and the praise chorus one. We played Handel at the beginning and end of each service, but we also did the praise song “Hallelujah” multiple times over the course of the night. Musically, it was quite a workout. I wasn’t used to playing without notation, and except for Handel, most of what we played was improv, something they called “playing in the Spirit.” Sometimes we passed hymnals around and people would call out numbers for us to turn to and play. The congregation/audience in the theater-style seats either found the numbers in the hymnal or already knew the words because they were all singing.

I did my best to concentrate on the various musical pieces, and except for the sermon and testimony time, we played through the whole service. This was outside my comfort zone. As we played, people would line up to come forward for prayer. Non-stop music, like they couldn’t have silence in the service, not even during the prayers.

People, in lines that stretched down the aisles, sang, prayed, cried and waited for their turn to be prayed for, to be healed. I tried not to look at them in line. It seemed somehow private, whatever reason they had for standing there, and I wasn’t sure what I thought of the whole thing. This was not me. I was Baptist or Friends—something not that. But there I was—just there to play the trumpet after all.

And then people would wait to give testimony to the healing power of Jesus. The audience laughed, clapped, burst into spontaneous song, which was always our cue to start playing whatever they happened to be singing. I honestly don’t know how we did it. Somehow it all worked out.

On the way home, I traded spaces with another friend and rode safely home on the bus.

This pandemic summer, I’ve been thinking about that summer. The world right now feels like one long over-the-speed-limit ride to San Diego in a car that needs fixing. The danger of crashing all around, anger at injustice, growing global persecution of Christians, corruption, an election coming in the fall, daily reports on infections and deaths even on local news. It goes on and on. There are so many places to get off course. And people are lining up in their own ways to find some kind of healing, connection, hope, relief. Those lines of people came to mind early in the pandemic, when Lorraine and I were waiting in line at the grocery store with what seemed like half the town, everyone hungry and wanting to protect themselves from sickness.

It reminds me, too, of the crushing persistent crowds who came to Jesus seeking healing, curious to listen to his teaching and see what he had to say and be part of the wonders he might do in their midst.

As we move into today, the weekend, next week, the rest of 2020, let’s pray for revival—not just for the lost, though certainly that, but also in us. Many are tired and weary.

As the gospel writer observed in Mark 8:1-9:

In those days, when again a great crowd had gathered, and they had nothing to eat, he called his disciples to him and said to them, “I have compassion on the crowd, because they have been with me now three days and have nothing to eat. And if I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way. And some of them have come from far away.” And his disciples answered him, “How can one feed these people with bread here in this desolate place?” And he asked them, “How many loaves do you have?” They said, “Seven.” And he directed the crowd to sit down on the ground. And he took the seven loaves, and having given thanks, he broke them and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and they set them before the crowd. And they had a few small fish. And having blessed them, he said that these also should be set before them. And they ate and were satisfied. And they took up the broken pieces left over, seven baskets full. And there were about four thousand people. And he sent them away.

As troubled as the world is, there is enough of Jesus and his abundant grace to go around. With baskets left over. More than enough for us all.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
no sudden rending of the veil of clay,
no angel visitant, no opening skies;
but take the dimness of my soul away.

Off My Pedestal by Lorraine Triggs

Forget Queen Victoria or Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, even William Shakespeare. On this trip to London, as a Sunday school curriculum editor at the time, I was intent on finding one statue—that of Robert Raikes, the founder of the modern-day Sunday school movement.  

With a copy of Access London guide in hand, my supportive and directionally savvy husband spotted the statue first—in the shade in the Victoria Embankment Gardens, behind the Savoy. The description on the base read: “Robert Raikes/Founder of Sunday Schools/1780 This statue was erected under the direction of the Sunday School Union by contributions from teachers and scholars of the Sunday Schools in Great Britain.”

I imagined Sunday school teachers encouraging the children to bring in coins to help build the statue; then organizing a field trip to see it. I was thrilled, and somewhere in an old photo album is a picture of me standing in front of the statue. (This above photo of the statue is from the internet, minus me.)

Statues are back in the news again. Whether you like the statues the way they are or want new ones, we want to control who is placed on our pedestals. That’s the problem—flawed people elevating other flawed people to almost god-like statuses. And even when it isn’t about statues, we still like to elevate ourselves.

In Luke 9:28-36, the account of Jesus’ transfiguration has an ordinary beginning, “. . . he [Jesus] took with him Peter and John and James and went up to the mountain to pray.” Then the most extraordinary event takes place: They saw Jesus’ glory. They saw Moses and Elijah “who appeared in glory” talking with Jesus. They saw glory, and well, look how that turned out.

Let’s build tents, three tents. I think Luke was being generous when he described Peter as “not knowing what he said.” (Luke 9:33)

God had the final say in the cloud on top of the mountain, “This is my son, my Chosen One, listen to him!” He is greater than Elijah, greater than Moses. No need for three tents, only one is necessary. But a handful of verses later, the disciples were ready to unpack the other two tents as they argued about which of them was the greatest, which of them deserved the statue, or should I say status. I would have been right in the thick of that argument.

We people are easily impressed by one another−and also easily disappointed by our failings. And as long as we keep our eye focused horizontally, we can imagine, debate, tear down or build up. The only solution I see is to stop looking at each other,look up first and then see one another a little more like Jesus does.

About eight days before the Transfiguration, Jesus said, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23) Jesus didn’t say climb up on a pedestal, but take up your cross and follow him. Lose your life to save it. 

There’s one more thing Jesus wants us to take up—his kind yoke and light burden and learn from his gentle and lowly heart for us. He doesn't reject us for carrying around the extra tent or a hard-to-shake sin. He wants to remove our burdens and give us rest for our souls.

Rest from pitching that tent for my idol of the day, rest for that next time I kick the base of my pedestal, tempted to climb back up and rest from trying to earn his grace or prove myself to him.

Jesus sees us as we are, not some idealised version of ourselves that we imagine ourselves or our heroes to be. He not only sees but he loves us exactly as we are. And thereby lies the path to hope and change. The cross and the empty tomb, the words in Scripture are enough, not etched in a monument, but written on our hearts, not by human hands but by the nail-scarred hands of God himself.

At the Heart of Home Is Freedom by Pat Cirrincione

Home. It conjures up so many memories for me. One that comes to mind is from the movie “E.T.” You see this cute little alien in another world, floundering around, trying to figure out what the things are that he is looking at or hiding in a closet so no one finds him or dressing up for Halloween as a ghost. Yet the most poignant scene in the movie for me was when E.T. pointed up his bony finger, and said one word, “Home.” I felt all the longing in the world for our eternal home in that one word: “home.”

When I was young, home was my haven. It was where I could run to hide from the outside world. It was a place where I could curl up with my favorite book, in my favorite chair, and disappear for a while into another world. Home was where I celebrated birthdays and holidays, and sad and happy times. It was a place where I enjoyed my mom’s tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, seated at the table surrounded by siblings and parents. It was home where I learned to bake delicious Christmas cookies with my mom and grandmothers. It was a place that my friends could come to and have a fun moment or two or three. It was the place that my Dad came to each night when he returned home from work. It was a place where a lot of memories were made. Home. More than anything else, it was where I could be free to just be me.

Sometimes me being me resulted in some crazy escapades, and as I look back I see that God’s hand was in everything that went on in my life. The good, the bad and the ugly were all there to teach me to turn to him. I see that now, more than I saw it then. God led me on a journey, and what I did not realize was that he was giving me free will to make choices, while longing that I would choose what he designed for me. I finally realized that concept as an adult, thank goodness!

Yet, as the world pulled at me, and school and friends and family and church, the one constant was still “Home.” Home was where our hearts were, home is where we always came back to, even when we got married and had our own families and were creating our own homes. Home was family, a safe place (sadly, I know it’s not that for many, but our heavenly Father is preparing that safe place for his beloved children).

These days, I find myself doing an E.T. I keep looking up and saying, “Home”—a place of peace, of beauty, and our God. I can’t even imagine the splendor of how it will be, but my heart longs for it, for home. A place of comfort, no more tears, no fighting, no wars, just the beauty of spending the rest of our days with our Creator. A place of true freedom to be shared with Our Creator. Home, a place to be free from our selfish, sinful selves. Home . . . a place of wonderful, real and everlasting love. Home, a place where God meant us to be.

Home.

Independence Day Prayer

A prayer from A Pastor Prays for His People by College Church member Wendell Hawley on this balmy July 4 morning.

Gracious God, Father of real freedom,

Deliverer from bondage to all who seek your face,

We pray the prayer of David in the Psalms, who pleaded,

“Bring my soul out of prison.”

Yes, Lord,

free us from the penitentiary of our sins,

free us from the handcuffs of guilt—

we are captured and restrained by the deception

that our way is better than yours.

Free us from the prison of hopelessness—

Thinking that our situation is beyond help or change.

Free us from the high walls of our fears—

fears of today and fears of tomorrow.

Free us from the confines of our foolish rebellion to your laws and

your Word.

Unlock the door that keeps us in our cell of selfish living—

callous actions,

thankless murmurings,

and unjustified complaints.

Free us from the leg irons of hypocrisy—

these deceptions that make us think our duplicity fools you.

Free us from the jailhouse of unbelief.

Deliverance is our need—deliverance from the captivity of sins!

“Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise your name.”

That is our gracious privilege today—

to praise you for complete deliverance 

from the guilt,

from the power,

from the judgment of sin.

Keep us in the freedom of experiencing your salvation—constantly,

free to enjoy you—now, today, and forever.

Lord Jesus, we plead for your magnified grace to be upon those of our number

who face—in various forms—the enemy of health and vitality.

Give grace and strength to caregivers.

Comfort the grieving.

Fulfill your promises to those who believe,

This we earnestly pray, in the strong name of Jesus, our Savior.

Amen

Urgent Care by Wil Triggs

Nowadays even an emergency requires an appointment. You may go to urgent care if there’s no urgency involved, and you can schedule ahead. Suppose you did wind up in urgent care . . . 

The Visit
The nurse was nice enough. Maybe I was reading too much into the way he looked away, his mask tight on his face covering both mouth and nose, gloves on his hands. 

I bet he’s sick of doing this. He took my temperature, blood pressure, weight, height, all the normal things they’ve always done, but this time the fever thing took on a new layer of meaning.

Before any other treatment could be pursued, he explained, they had to run the test.

I knew it. 

It’s ok, I said, reassuringly. My wife really insisted that I come and get checked out.

It must be hard with this pandemic, I commented and then I thanked him.

No problem, he said. It’s not just us. It's happening in other parts of the world. Have you seen what’s happening in Brazil?

I guess so, I said. I mean, not really. I guess I haven’t been keeping up with any news, good or bad. For some reason I didn’t reveal to the nurse what my wife had dubbed my obsession with the news—on the lookout especially for good news about this global condition. I didn’t want to appear naive or ignorant about life.

Lots of bad news all round these days, he said, but I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or himself, so I didn’t reply.

He took a blood sample and told me it would be awhile before anyone would come back and left the room. 

So, I waited.

Bored, I looked at the poster on the wall: Symptoms to watch out for.

I didn’t really want to read them, so I averted my eyes. But after another five minutes, well, I had enough. No one was coming back any time soon. I stood up and walked over to the poster. I had to admit that I was more than a little curious. Did I have it? I figured a self-check was in order.

Symptoms to watch out for 
Inaudibly talking to a person or a force you cannot see.

Thinking of others as more significant than yourself.

Believing that you don’t have the final say in most things.

Believing that your life has started over, new, fresh, changed.

Gathering with people you don't know that well. Revealing things about yourself to them. Asking for help.

An alarming tendency to give away things to people who need help—money, food, clothing, sometimes in extreme cases, cars or even homes. Some even give their lives.

The list went on…

Beware: symptomatic or asymptomatic people may find themselves acting out in unorthodox ways

Allowing spit and dirt mixed into mud to be applied to blind eyes.

Casting your net on the other side of the boat.

Touching the hem of his garment.

Reading the same book over and over for years and expecting it to change you.

Selling everything and following him anywhere.

Laying down your life for your friends.

Believing that there’s nothing you can do to make yourself better.

Receiving atoning blood to cover your sin-stained soul.

Attempting to spread this sort of virus to others no matter the consequences.

By the time I was done reading the warnings, my heart was racing. What if this was happening to me?

The Diagnosis
Finally, the nurse came back into the room.

I was fine. The test came back negative. He seemed relieved. The doctors are busy treating others, he explained. And since you’re in the clear, you won’t even need to see one. We don’t want to waste their time.

You’re sure, I asked. Everything is fine?

It’s a pretty accurate test. Don’t feel bad. Your wife was right to send you in. It’s always a good idea to get checked. You don’t want to mess around with this stuff.

Okay, I said. We both stood up and he actually handed me the paperwork, which under the circumstances, surprised me.

There's a list of symptoms with your paperwork. Keep an eye out. Come back anytime for another test. Just because you're negative today doesn't mean you can't be infected tomorrow. So be careful.

You’re free to go, he said, and then thanked me for coming in and wished me a good day. Obviously, we did not shake hands.

From Voice of the Martyrs (actual reports from 6/18/2020)
Authorities in Wuhan seized the pastor of the Nanjing Road Church on Saturday, May 30, during an online Christian gathering. The day-long event, which was dedicated to church planting and evangelism, was being held online because of the pandemic. Police arrived at the church around noon and detained Pastor Luo, who was interrogated for more than four hours before being released. During the interrogation, Luo told the officials how Christians have been serving their communities in Wuhan during the pandemic.

Christian workers in Turkey report that restrictions and changes caused by the global pandemic have hit Iranian refugees hard. Many of the Iranians lost everything when they fled their country because of persecution for their Christian faith. And now, many have lost the low-paying jobs they had obtained in Turkey and are struggling to feed their families. In addition, they have little access to health care because the basic medical care provided to refugees has been stopped. “Some of our students who are unwell have avoided seeking medical treatment and are now in a critical situation,” a Christian worker wrote.

In central Asia, when a young boy got extremely sick, a front-line worker in the village accompanied him and his family to a hospital. While in the waiting room, the 10-year-old began to cry at the thought that he might be permanently confined to a wheelchair. The front-line worker then prayed for his healing, and within minutes the boy was able to walk again, surprising the front-line worker. But when the boy told his Muslim father that Jesus had healed him, he grew angry. “Never say that again,” his father told him. “It was Allah and his prophet, Muhammad, who healed you!” The boy’s father is afraid their relatives will shame them, but the boy is determined to tell everyone what happened to him. 

God, give me this fever. Please may I never be cured. To live this day. To point others to you. To serve you till my very last breath.

Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness! Let everything that has breath praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! (Psalm 150:2, 6) 

Firm in Heaven

A lot of words have been spoken, written, recorded, tweeted, retweeted, posted, shared or deleted of late. God's Word—that eternal Word that stands in heaven—was what prompted the question we asked last week: What's one particular Scripture that has hit home for you during this crazy time?

Be encouraged as you read today's musing.

What a great question! I am thankful that the Lord's mercies are new every morning, just for today. Tomorrow the Lord will give me new mercies according to that day. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
Karen Bagge

Memorizing Psalm 19. On January 5, Pastor Ben Panner shared that Psalm 19 is two books, verses 1-9 focus on God's glory in creation, and verses 7-11 on truths of God's Word. The prayer of verses 12-14 gives legs to my daily walk with Jesus these days. Amazing grace and love.
Mary Miller

Good time to revisit my very first favorite verse the night I came into God's family: Hebrews 5:13b (Amplified Bible): "for he, himself has said, 'I will not, I will not in any degree leave you helpless nor relax my hold you.'" Currently, the passage I'm looking to is 1 King 8:41-43. Believers need to repent and turn back to God so that the foreigners in our midst can see God and turn to him. 
Linda Murphy

The message of Amos. Thinking about what J.A. Motyer says about Amos 5:14-15: "This is no 'fugitive and cloistered virtue' interior to the heart or wrought out solely in a one-to-one relationship between the individual and God. Its outflow is in terms of a society founded and run on principles of justice backed by sanctions for the punishment of evildoers and the praise of them that do well. . . What a call this constitutes to Bible Christians to rediscover the moral and social teaching of Holy Scripture! How often our contributions on social and socio-ethical questions are small, insignificant, inhibited because we simply have not laboured to acquire biblical definitions of the issues involved! If we do not labour to 'establish justice in the gate', we shall be accused from this passage in Amos of a one-sided morality stopping short of the biblical concern for society, we shall be exposed, according to Amos 3:9-4:5, of playing around with a useless religion while society rots, and we shall find, according to Amos 6:3, that, while we have been unconcerned, other and sinister forces have been at work to enthrone violence and disorder."
Praying that we, the church, would repent for our sins of omission and its effect on the black community and persons of color. How do we commit sins of omission by not actively hating evil, loving good and establishing justice in the courts?  “A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury.” (John Stuart Mill
Karen Selking

Romans 12:12 (NIV) has been a good reminder for each day: "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." 
John Maust

Proverbs 4:18 (NKJV): "The path of the just is like the shining sun, that shines ever brighter unto the perfect day." What a beautiful promise for an 84-year-old who knows the Lord. No matter what, my life will just get better and better!
Joan Hutcheson

Isaiah 41:10 (NLT): "Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand." I actually chose this verse in late December 2019 to be one of my memory verses for 2020. It has been a daily encouragement to me.
Debbie VanDerMolen

John 14:6:  Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." When I do not see a direction I can go physically, (being on a medication that leaves my immune system compromised,) I do see Jesus and move toward him. Currently I am in a study of the life of Christ to point me to see him, and see how as his follower I can do as he does in relationship with others.
Carole Ehrman

Psalm 33 was part of my daily reading on March 14, and in the 12 weeks that have followed, it has continually reminded me that none of this is a surprise to God, that God is a faithful promise keeper, and that it is only when our hearts trust and hope in him that we are made glad.
Kate Schlickman

1 Peter 5:7 (NIV): “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” My favorite way to remind myself of this is through the song, "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." It expresses 1 Peter 5:7 so well.
Sarah Lindquist

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10 (NIV)  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." This passage is a wonderful reminder to me that God meets us in our weakness, and this is certainly a time of weakness! His grace is sufficient. Always. His amazing power is made perfect in weakness. Let us not run from weakness, but rest in him.
Mary Manteuffel

Psalm 29:10 (NASB): "The Lord sat as King at the flood. Yes, the Lord sits as King forever."
Ruth Feldmann

Settled truths for our souls.