I wrote another post for www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com this week, because there was a gap that I offered to fill. I had written a piece for our Lenten church newsletter, so I adapted it for the blog, and there it was. I didn't get around to posting it on the day, so here it is now.
Some Quiet Words for Lent
Speak up with confidence!! That seems to be the message of the world. Proclaim yourself out there. Usually we see those who do lots of that as the confident ones. But so often God’s message to us is the opposite of what the world says.“In quietness and confidence shall be your strength”. (Isaiah 30:15) That was the translation of the words in the version my grandmother quoted when she gave me that verse on my confirmation day in Windsor, January 13th, 1963. I can still see the words in her homey rounded handwriting on a vellum card, pasted on the black inner lining pages of one of my grandfather’s Bibles that she passed on to me. Dear Granny Kay, dear, dear wife of my saintly grandfather, a beloved Canadian bishop who had died in London, Ontario seven years before that day. She and he exemplified that verse for me, and for many others. Their quiet strength, their humble trust and confidence in God helped to build the bedrock of my faith’s foundation.
I have been reflecting on that verse for more than just a Lenten season or two. In particular I have been pondering it in relation to many events and concerns in my faith journey that I have the privilege of sharing with you on this blog. Knowing that you will be waiting for encouraging words on my day to write gives me reason to more intentionally reflect on ways that God speaks to me as I go through my days. It is an incredibly rewarding experience. Perhaps when we each have to pull together thoughts for others we come up with much that enriches our own lives and thinking. And what is really important is what the words do for us, for all that really matters is what is going on in our own hearts, and between us and God.
Our constant inner chatter, surface voices or deep truths expressed in the riddles of our dreams, is known to God as well as to us. He knows and hears it all, and seeks to have His loving words break through the chatter, bring His voice of truth into the bedlam of our fears, hopes and dreams. And how else can we hear His voice than by being quiet? That doesn’t mean taking a vow of silence for the season of Lent, or not sharing our concerns with others. It might even mean finding our voices in new ways, as I have done through writing on a blog. Each of us will know what it means to be quiet, just as each of us will know what it means to have our confidence in God, and finding our strength there. Some of the other translations for Isaiah 30:15 use the word trust instead of confidence, making it very clear that it is our trust in God that gives us confidence.
My prayer for each of us, and especially for myself, is that in this season of Lent, as we prepare ourselves for the commemoration of those great events which are the source of our confidence and trust, the death and resurrection of our mighty humble Saviour and King , Jesus Christ, is that we will find new ways to be quiet within our hearts and minds, and new ways to grow in confidence and trust in Him.
February 28, 2009
joy in giving tribute to a dear friend and her words
I was pleased that I was reminded this week, again, of special words of a friend in Uganda, and pleased that my weekly post on the devotional blog, www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com, could give me opportunity to give tribute to this friend in a public way. It was the Lenten season Ash Wednesday service that gave me the connection, words and concept wise, with her words. Here it is:
Down in the Dust - with Jesus
"For dust you are and to dust you will return." Genesis 3:19
The familiar words jolted my memory during the Ash Wednesday service this week. I am not a religious Christian, nor a religious Anglican. I hang loose to various rituals and customs in my denominational tradition. But neither do I shun them at times because I am confident that God can speak to me in any way He chooses, even in church. So this week I chose to attend this special service, confident also that there would be a great message, as there always is, from our gifted and wise female pastor/priest, Kelly. So I had the ashes imposed, and began the season of Lenten reflection with a black sign of the cross on my forehead. It didn't last long, so I didn't have to worry about parading my piety out in the world. I got what I came for - an opportunity to reflect quietly in a shared and sacred space.
Dust was on my mind, and the phrase repeated by my dear Ugandan friend, Canon Marie. She used to say that the only D.D. she wanted was "Down in the Dust." The D.D. of course we were speaking of was the title of Doctor of Divinity, an honorary or earned degree. "Down in the dust", she said, "down in the dust with Jesus." Canon Marie's comment was typical of her honesty and her humility, two of the qualities which had drawn us into close friendship during my family's missionary years in Uganda. Together we began an English Bible Class which still operates more than ten years later, and eight years after our departure from that beautiful land.
But it wasn't just a saying for my dear friend Marie. It was a reality she lived. Up before dawn every day she did heavy digging in her vegetable garden, eager to make a little extra money for her family at the local market. Then a full day doing ministry in the church and home to prepare an evening meal for her husband and family of boys. Her long years of service in the church had been recognized with the title and honour of Canon. However she was a woman, and she was a friend of "the whites". She was my friend, when people didn't understand us, when people didn't like us, when people told lies about us, when people told lies about her, and the supposed advantages she had gained through being my friend. When we suffered deeply from the prejudice that eventually turned to danger and sent us home to protect our family, I could do nothing about the suffering that came upon her. I often wondered, and said to her later, that if I had known what she would suffer for being my friend I wonder if I would have pursued that friendship which brought me so much comfort and opportunity for ministry.
I believe Canon Marie has known and continues to know what it means to be "Down in the Dust". And she knows also, as I do, that it is the only safe place to be. It is not safe to be "special", to be in an important position, to be in special ministry or in any way "above" others. Soon enough something will happen to bring us down into the dust. And when we are we know for sure the joy of His presence with us, as He walks with us along roads of suffering and sacrifice, which eventually bring us into the resurrection freedom He has promised for us.
I am glad I can remember these words and principles this Lent. And I shall never forget them.
Down in the Dust - with Jesus
"For dust you are and to dust you will return." Genesis 3:19
The familiar words jolted my memory during the Ash Wednesday service this week. I am not a religious Christian, nor a religious Anglican. I hang loose to various rituals and customs in my denominational tradition. But neither do I shun them at times because I am confident that God can speak to me in any way He chooses, even in church. So this week I chose to attend this special service, confident also that there would be a great message, as there always is, from our gifted and wise female pastor/priest, Kelly. So I had the ashes imposed, and began the season of Lenten reflection with a black sign of the cross on my forehead. It didn't last long, so I didn't have to worry about parading my piety out in the world. I got what I came for - an opportunity to reflect quietly in a shared and sacred space.
Dust was on my mind, and the phrase repeated by my dear Ugandan friend, Canon Marie. She used to say that the only D.D. she wanted was "Down in the Dust." The D.D. of course we were speaking of was the title of Doctor of Divinity, an honorary or earned degree. "Down in the dust", she said, "down in the dust with Jesus." Canon Marie's comment was typical of her honesty and her humility, two of the qualities which had drawn us into close friendship during my family's missionary years in Uganda. Together we began an English Bible Class which still operates more than ten years later, and eight years after our departure from that beautiful land.
But it wasn't just a saying for my dear friend Marie. It was a reality she lived. Up before dawn every day she did heavy digging in her vegetable garden, eager to make a little extra money for her family at the local market. Then a full day doing ministry in the church and home to prepare an evening meal for her husband and family of boys. Her long years of service in the church had been recognized with the title and honour of Canon. However she was a woman, and she was a friend of "the whites". She was my friend, when people didn't understand us, when people didn't like us, when people told lies about us, when people told lies about her, and the supposed advantages she had gained through being my friend. When we suffered deeply from the prejudice that eventually turned to danger and sent us home to protect our family, I could do nothing about the suffering that came upon her. I often wondered, and said to her later, that if I had known what she would suffer for being my friend I wonder if I would have pursued that friendship which brought me so much comfort and opportunity for ministry.
I believe Canon Marie has known and continues to know what it means to be "Down in the Dust". And she knows also, as I do, that it is the only safe place to be. It is not safe to be "special", to be in an important position, to be in special ministry or in any way "above" others. Soon enough something will happen to bring us down into the dust. And when we are we know for sure the joy of His presence with us, as He walks with us along roads of suffering and sacrifice, which eventually bring us into the resurrection freedom He has promised for us.
I am glad I can remember these words and principles this Lent. And I shall never forget them.
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