The Author and Finisher of our Faith by Wendell C. Hawley

From his book, A Pastor Prays for His People.

Father God, author and finisher of our faith,

Source of every blessing we enjoy,

how great are our privileges in Christ Jesus.

Bountiful is your provision for all our needs -

our sin is that we do not appropriate what is available.

You are able to keep us from stumbling.

But as we review even this past week, we've stumbled so many times:

stumbled in relationships,

stumbled with wrong attitudes,

stumbled in temptation.

Forgive me for stumbling when I need not have.

Keep me from stumbling:

be my arm of support,

my strength,

my stability.

You have promised to present me blameless.

When I consider my faults - and think of being presented in glory, faultless -

I am overcome with gratitude to you, my Savior,

my Paraclete, my advocate - thank you, thank you.

You have said you will present me with great joy.

Oh Lord, help us to finish the race set before each one of us -

to persevere,

to walk in faith,

to love you supremely,

and like Abraham, to have an eye on that city

which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God,

that we might be presented with great joy.

Heaven rejoiced on the day of our repentance, and now you promise

rejoicing in our presentation!

All this is promised because you alone are our Savior -

we absolutely do not rely on anything or anyone but you.

So fulfill this promise to us today:

Unto him that is able to keep you from stumbling,

and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory,

with exceeding joy,

to the only God, our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power,

both now and ever.

Amen.

My History with Earthworms by Lorraine Triggs

Oakland Elementary School was seven blocks from my home if one were inclined to walk the most direct route there. My sisters and I had no such inclinations, even on rainy spring mornings. Especially on rainy spring mornings.

That was the time of day the earthworms were most plentiful, squiggling their way through the ground to the edge between grass and sidewalk. Plump reddish-brown earthworms, begging for attention from schoolchildren. What followed was probably not one of the finest moments in my life. Closing our umbrellas, we used the pointy end of the handles to see how many worms we could stab at a time. The loser had to pull off the worms with her bare hands and toss them back in the grass.
 
Fortunately, my history with earthworms evolved when Wil and I discovered vermiculture, worm composting. We actually paid for red wigglers to be shipped to the house. “They look exactly like the ones I used to stab,” I declared delightedly to Wil.
 
These worms, however, were destined for a brighter future. Wil carefully drilled holes in the bottom of a Rubbermaid bin and lined the bottom with shredded black and white newspaper. He then soaked a brick of cocoa mulch in a bucket of water and added that to the bin. The worms were ready for their home and a diet of coffee grounds, vegetable and fruit scraps and eggshells.
 
Then we waited. We waited for the worms to devour the food scraps and turn them into nutrient-rich compost. Some of the worms loved cantaloupe rinds, and after feasting on one, left a rind that almost looked like lace. We were fascinated with our new self-contained, garbage-eating pets.
 
After what seemed like an eternity, all that remained of the food scraps was the lace-like rind and a few pieces of eggshell, and in its place was dark rich compost—black gold for our garden. We began to remove the compost with our bare hands, uncovering earthworms as we went.
 
We kept scooping; the red wigglers, well, kept wiggling, through our hands into the thin layer of compost now covering the bottom of the bin. We could read our pets well and quickly covered them with shredded newspaper, cocoa mulch and fresh food scraps.
 
As we scooped out the compost, we observed a few things. First, and most obvious, was the lack of smell. The food scraps we tossed in the bin didn’t smell like rotten trash, even though they sat there for several weeks. Second, one has to make a time commitment to vermiculture. Good compost doesn’t happen overnight. Third, when exposed to the sunlight, the worms would borough deeper into the compost. They needed the darkness and the rotting fruit to produce that black gold for the garden.

Along with considering birds of the air and lilies of the field, perhaps we ought to consider the red wiggler. It doesn’t fear the darkness or potential rotting food scraps. Instead, it slowly goes through the rot and darkness and turns it into rich compost that I feed my sun-loving tomatoes and roses.
 
I might adopt the red wiggler approach to the darkness of trials and suffering I encounter. Rather than my usual fix-it-fast-and-fix-it-now approach, I will sit in the darkness (note to self: darkness is not dark to our loving Father) and know that this trial produces a rich compost of endurance, character and hope that does not put us to shame.
 
This rich compost—a mix of suffering and trust in God--also produces lives that look less like us and more like Christ, lives ready to share this compost with other weary souls sitting in a golden darkness.

Chocolate Pudding and Jesus by Wil Triggs

I was scanning through headlines online Thursday morning when this one caught my eye:

“Chocolate Pudding is the Answer”
 
Sometimes a good headline is hard to resist, pleading with you to click and read more.
 
It was right there on the same screen with others like:

• Biden signals he’s flexible on immigration overhaul

• How does Bill Gates plan to solve the climate crisis?

• Opening a new musical in Tokyo in a pandemic

• What to know about avalanche safety in the backcountry

Chocolate pudding and I go way back. When I was little, my mother’s chocolate pudding was a favorite, provided it was still warm from the stove, and before the skin formed on top. Even though she made it with cornstarch, it never had lumps.

If chocolate pudding is the answer, I wanted to know what the question was.

As a Bible school teacher, I’m used to people joking about Jesus being the answer to almost any question. And it’s true. Usually Jesus is a pretty good guess. Even if the answer I’m looking for is Joseph or Moses or Peter, I can usually shift into biblical theology and find a way to affirm the answer. So that background came to the fore. I imagined myself on Sunday morning responding, “No, Jesse, the answer is not Jesus. Chocolate pudding is the answer.”

How could that be?

So, yes, I fell for it. And clicked.

The two questions in the article were: “How are you?” and “What to cook?”

The writer told of a woman who gave trash collectors bags of home-baked cookies. Besides the pudding, it provided links to recipes for macaroni and beef casserole, kimchi fried rice, braised porkall’arrabbiataand more, then went on to describe daring to cook without a recipe at all, or only giving a description of how to cook chicken thighs with lemon, garlic and other ingredients.

Feeding people makes the world a little bit better.

“I think it’s more important than ever” says the chocolate pudding writer, “that we try to believe that people are operating mostly from a position of good faith rather than bad, and to respond to the stimuli the pandemic offers us accordingly.”

In some ways, the writer had me at chocolate, but I wasn’t so sure about that good faith thing. Most of the time I want to be nice to people, but we have been restraining ourselves in this season of sickness. We didn’t give our annual ice cream sauce Christmas gifts this year, and it’s still bothering me. Nevertheless, we kept our possibly tainted jars away from people during the holidays even though we’ve discovered a really good butterscotch recipe.

Good faith, I don’t know, doesn’t seem to fit the food we feed people or give away or don’t. But the thought of chocolate pudding was appealing.

Just an hour after reading this story, I read another that kind of spoiled the mood. Thoughts of comfort foods in this snowy pandemic February gave way to something else. Here is the brief report:

“Iranian Christian convert Ebrahim Firouzi was summoned from internal exile in early February 2021 to a court hearing, after which he was re-arrested. Ebrahim had already spent nearly seven years in prison and was completing a three-year internal exile 1,000 miles from home. He was summoned to court to respond to accusations of propaganda against the Islamic Republic in favor of hostile groups. In September 2020, Ebrahim received an unexpected package at the post office that contained Bibles. The Ministry of Intelligence was watching his mail, and when Ebrahim went to collect his package, they were waiting. They accompanied him to his house, where they confiscated laptops, cell phones and theology textbooks without a warrant. They also wanted to confiscate the Bibles, but Ebrahim told them he had been officially recognized as a Christian by the judiciary, and that he had a right to keep the Bibles.”

The article concluded “Before his court appearance, Ebrahim said, ‘I ask Christians to pray not for my acquittal, but for the great name of God to be glorified.’”

I checked some other sources and discovered that Ebrahim began a hunger strike on February 13, saying that he would not eat until charges were dropped.

Negotiating for the Bibles with authorities is something that I did in a totally different time and context, not for myself, but for Christians I was hoping to visit in a country whose authorities only wanted Bibles for profit in their black market.

So here's a third question. Not how are you. Not what to cook.

What food fills you?

Comfort food one fork or a plate at a time.

Or food that gives life with its invitation to taste and see, take and eat. Bread of life. This is my body.

And he said to me, “Son of man, eat whatever you find here. Eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and he gave me this scroll to eat. And he said to me, “Son of man, feed your belly with this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it.” Then I ate it, and it was in my mouth as sweet as honey. (Ezekiel 3:1-3)

Let this food comfort Ebrahim in the middle of his hunger strike.

Jesus, let me draw deep from the well of your water. Refresh and revive. Bring life through the food of your Word. May the nations fighting your Word break their souls’ hunger strike, see the truth of Jesus, and eat the food that nourishes and satisfies forever.

Pray with me and Ebrahim for the great name of God to be glorified.

Lover of Our Souls by Wendell C. Hawley

from A Pastor Prays for His People

Everlasting God, Lover of our souls,
Open our eyes to see your love for us—
your love which was established before creation
and continues unfailing and unending, even unto this very hour.
Your Word tells us that you had a plan for us a long, long time ago.
A love for us not based on 
performance,
or beauty,
or inherent value.
A love which sent a Savior to the unlovely,
the destitute,
the helpless,
the condemned.
A Savior whose love prompted him to say:
"Come unto me all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Lord, may you this day be the present help of all who turn to you,
whether hurt or ashamed,
whether sick or disheartened,
whether afraid or defeated,
whether troubled or angry.
You have come to change the human condition drastically, totally . . .
the sinful heart,
the stony heart,
the rebellious heart.

Holy physician, divine surgeon . . . work in our lives that our souls might prosper in spiritual health and vitality.
Thank you, Lord,
for hearing,
for answering,
for meeting every need.

Amen.

Over Packing by Lorraine Triggs

It was July 2001, two months pre-9/11, and our multitude of bags were packed and ready to go on the first STAMP trip to Russia. We were off to summer camp to help the national staff with crafts, sports and all around entertainment (of which our skills were many).

I have always prided myself on my packing skills even with the following list:

• camp clothes

• good walking shoes

• first aid kit, including pouches of grape-flavored Pedialyte

• googly eyes for sheep craft

• black and white yarn for sheep craft

• construction paper, glue, tape

• scissors

• soda ash

• dye from art store

• rubber bands

• white t-shirts

The only thing I neglected to pack was a month's supply of sticky fly paper, but I digress.

Packing for the trip home was a lot easier:

• dirty camp clothes

• one broken walking shoe

• pressed wildflowers

• our own autographed tie-dye t-shirts

We left behind the shirts, one for every camper and camp staff, now dyed in blues and magentas, leftover craft supplies, first-aid kits, sports equipment, some of our suitcases and our hearts.

Though proud of my packing skills, I never list it as other skills on my CV. Too bad, because when it come to carrying baggage, I could teach a Master Class.

Let's see, there's the baggage of childhood hurts:

• fourth-grade teacher who played favorites (I was not one)

• unfriended by best friend, Kathy, prior to Facebook.

Things happen. Bad or sad. If I look back for them, I can find them from any stage of life.

I probably shouldn't even mention the baggage Facebook adds to my life, but since it is a Master Class, here goes—I have zero pairs of matching Christmas pajamas, same for vacations to any of the 48 contiguous States this last year and not one photo of cute little children frolicking in the snow.

As I start to inspect my baggage, it's clear that Facebook isn't the problem. I am, and my stubbornness in carrying around jealousy, discontent and grumbling. Here's a stinging joke, like a pair of extra pants that I don't need. An unresolved disagreement is like a heavy, itchy wool sweater that takes up way too much room than it should. I add to my load the hurts and disappointments of life not going the way I had planned. I take no pride in these packing skills.

There's hope for habitual over packers like myself. It's in the One who invites the heavy laden to come and find his rest and to learn from his gentle and lowly heart. Jesus invites us to exchange our burdens for his burden that is full of light and grace and truth.

And that involves forgiveness. For me and for those who handed me stuff I don't need, that only makes traveling heavier and harder than it needs to be. Jesus frees us from all that and gives us something new. Back when we went to Russia with so many suitcases, we unloaded them and gave most everything away to help tell the campers aboutJesus and to give them anything that might be a help in the days ahead. I want to let go of heavy bags and give away the blessings God gives.

When I look for the God who gives, my heart, not my suitcases, is filled. I think of the friendships forged with Russian Sunday school teachers turned camp counselors for the summer. They never dreamed it would be possible to have children's camps and there we were doing just that in a Soviet-built school. Think of the eyes of the children at camp, bright-eyed as we unwrapped their shirts revealing bright colors of summer that came from the other side of the world. Think of the wonder of sin washed away. The one and only Savior who came with nothing more than himself, not from the other side of the world, but all the way from heaven, teaching, touching, humbly dying, rising, giving new life and calling us to follow him.

The next time a mad moment of over packing pride hits me, I will remember another childhood memory, "Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he might exalt you in due time. Casting all your cares upon him; for he careth for you." (1 Peter 5:6, 7 intentionally in the KJV)

The Questions I Ask Google by Susan Zimmerman

From early 2014 until mid-2017, I worked as an editor in the marketing communications department of a large corporation. Our department, overwhelmingly comprised of graphic artists, was a newly formed Mac computer island within a corporate sea of PC platforms. So, whenever any of us called corporate IT for help with a tech issue, the answer was usually, “Umm, you’re on a Mac? I don’t know what to do.” Even when the IT person did try to help, there were long delays waiting for an answer.

I’m not the most tech savvy person, so when I ran into inevitable computer problems, it was frustrating not to have ready help from corporate IT. I would privately fume at the slow and sometimes inadequate response.

Then, like everyone else in our department, I discovered Paul. Paul was our image coordinator and a Mac wizard. I joined the line at his desk to get answers, or emailed him, or sent a quick text asking about my latest tech snafu. And Paul was great. He was patient, knowledgeable, and his answers worked! It was like having my own private IT department at my side.

But Paul was a very busy guy. He and the team he led were processing hundreds of images a week. It was unrealistic to expect him to keep up with an unofficial, and unasked for side gig of assisting everyone with their Mac issues. And one day, when I stopped by his desk with yet another query, he looked up, smiled a bit wearily, and said, “Susan, you know you could Google that question and get the answer. That’s what I do sometimes, too.”

Ahh, Google! I felt slightly chastened, but what he said made perfect sense. I went back to my desk and did exactly as Paul suggested. And there it was, the answer to my computer question in five easy steps. Why hadn’t I thought of doing that before? I had used web search for hundreds of other questions, but Googling to unsnarl my Mac hadn’t been one of them.

And now, years later, whenever I encounter a computer issue, I always remember Paul’s advice, “You could Google that.” Unless my computer is actually dying, I can usually find a quick solution.

Yes, Google (or other search engines) is great for all sorts of practical advice. Fixing a Mac. Diagnosing the leak from our dishwasher. Figuring out what’s causing the worrying rattle in the car. Or maybe even discovering how to keep squirrels from digging up bulbs (my latest search).

But wisdom for life’s big questions? Like, how to deal with the current anxiety over the pandemic and all the huge crises in front of our country? Where to invest my time, talent and treasure? How to have a lasting impact on my children and grandchildren? And even more importantly, how to set aside the recurring idols in my life and depend on Christ only for joy and sustenance? For these questions, Google is like my former corporate IT department, “I don’t know what to do.”

Another Paul, the apostle, has something to say about finding wisdom in I Corinthians 1:19-25:

For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.

For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.

For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.”

It’s all too easy for me having become conditioned by the quick and easy answers from Google to expect the same from “Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” As I did when seeking answers to my Mac problems at work, I often privately (or publicly) fume at what I in my limited vision consider a slow or inadequate response. I want five easy steps. And I want them now.

Christ offers a different way to wisdom. James 1:5-6 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.”

In my notes from Pastor Moody’s sermon from August 30 on this passage, I read (my paraphrase of his words): “The great secret of life is to inquire of the Lord. He gives generously, without reproach, in love as a Father. But the condition for this wisdom is faith. Not make believe or positive thinking, but commitment. ‘Without doubting’ means trusting God even if we don’t get it. Trust God and be steadfast.”

I’m slowly learning how this God-given wisdom is so much better than asking Google, or family, or friends, or a self-help article or book. It comes through steadfast commitment, through reading God’s Word, through the daily exercise of faith and dependence on my Lord and Savior. It’s not a quick hit on my computer screen or five simple steps, but it’s ultimately far more satisfying and long lasting. It is the “good gift” and the “perfect gift” that is “from above.” (James 1:17)

A Prayer by Wendell C. Hawley

From his book A Pastor Prays for His People

Blessed Redeemer, beautiful Savior,

Author of all grace and comfort.

We approach you with the deepest reverence—

not with any presumption, nor with servile fear—

but with respectful boldness—because of your gracious invitation.

In the days of yore, you met the invited penitent at the mercy seat.

There the sprinkled blood was a covering for sin.

Today, our needed blessings are to be found at the throne of grace.

Here it is that we find grace in every—every—every! time of need.

It is easy for us to elaborate our needs, as trouble upon trouble piles up on us:

fragmented friendships,

hostile relationships,

adversarial conditions,

financial roadblocks,

family nightmares,

unanswered questions.

Some of these heartburning situations have plagued us without relief,

and we have pled with you to alleviate—

yet still we wait for a divine answer.

Lord, we have nowhere else to go but to you,

and so we again cast ourselves upon your mercy.

Maybe you delay because of the insidious sins

we tolerate or turn a blind eye to!

Galatians tells of good old Barnabas and influential Simon Peter who were

captured by flagrant hypocrisy.

Maybe that’s our sin today—protection of self—

desiring the approval of the crowd rather than God.

Father God, it will take a detergent as strong as the blood of Jesus Christ

to wash away that sin.

We confess with tears all the times we played the hypocrite

and curried the world’s favor—in the world’s place—

and tried some face-saving, self-serving falseness around God’s people.

Forgive us, Lord, as we pray now for deliverance from such sin.

Thank you, Father, help us to never again indulge in hypocrisy.

In the name of Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life.

A Good Laugh by Lorraine Triggs

The element of surprise on each of our STAMP trips to Russian summer camps was the campsite itself. There was the camp at a school where the water was turned off every afternoon. Or the camp in an old Soviet Young Pioneer camp with huge fallen trees resting on rickety cabins (including ours). Then there was the site which was simply an open field in rural Russia. They called it "Russia extreme" and many of the camp leaders were curious to see how we American Christians would handle it.

At this camp, without running water period, the camp cook cut the bottom off an empty five-gallon water jug, turned it upside down, lashed it to a tree, filled it with river water, and created a handwashing, dishwashing station—you just had to remember to open the cap exactly right to prevent water from gushing out.

Considering what happened next, it's a good thing that jug was fillled with river water, not drinking water.

I headed to the water station to wash my hands after arts and crafts, waving to the cook prepping the evening’s meal under the food tent. At the station, I unscrewed the cap. Oh, oh, just a bit too far lefty loosey. I quickly tightened the cap and tried again. Oh, oh, more water poured out.

It was in between attempts number four and seven, as I quickly closed off the makeshift tap, trying to spare the precious water for uses other than my hands, I began to laugh each time the cap fell into my hands and more water poured out. As amusing, embarassing and clumsy as it was, I figured my hands were clean, so I did a grand puddle stomp in the mud puddle I created, looked up, waved goodbye to the cook and went on to join the next activity.

That evening, the camp director (a friend from our previous STAMP trip) mentioned the washing station incident to me. She had heard about it. An apology for wasting water was on the tip of my tongue, but she continued, “The camp cook watched you the whole time, waiting for the American to get impatient and angry about the water. Instead, he saw you laughing at yourself. That impressed him. He said that Russians have a hard time laughing at themselves.”

I think it’s more universal than that. Adam’s fallen race doesn’t like to laugh at itself. When we laugh at ourselves, it’s a blow to our self-importance; it’s a blow to our pride; it’s a blow to carefully crafted reputations.

The apostle Paul didn’t write “laugh at yourself” to the Philippian Christians, but he did write, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

Self-importance, pride and reputation aside, sometimes, honestly, I'm unintentionally  funny. There's general acceptance that laughter is good for our physical and emotional health. It's good medicine, but it isn't the cure for Adam's fallen race. The cure came when Jesus "emptied himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race."

One closing note on laughing at oneself—according to my mother, if we laugh at ourselves, we always have something to laugh about. There are days when I am a never-ending source of comic relief.