WHOM DO YOU SEEK?

From the first time I became aware of the verses in John 18:4ff, I have been in love with the story of Jesus’ stepping forward in the Garden that night when He was betrayed and asking, “Whom do you seek?” and the events that followed.
“Whom do you seek?” When the Roman cohort and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees answered Him, “Jesus the Nazarene,” He responded, “I am He.” Just picture the dark, flickering torch-lit shadows of the garden at night and all of these men facing this One Who chose to neither fight nor flee. They were so astounded they drew back and fell to the ground! What was it about this man’s demeanor that brought about such a reaction in these men? Can you see them as they started to stumble their way back to their feet while he once again asked, “Whom do you seek?” And again, they responded, “Jesus the Nazarene.” Once more He told them, “I am He.”
As I partook of communion this morning I was transported back to that night in the Garden, to those men, to that question and that answer. There was more meaning to that question, “Whom do you seek?” and answer, “I am He,” than they realized…until after the crucifixion. We know that at least one man, a centurion, became very aware because he was standing right in front of Jesus when He breathed His last and he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39) I wonder about the many other men who fell to the ground in the Garden; do you suppose they ever thought back to, “Whom do you seek?” and, “I am He”?
This morning during communion when I thought back to that night, the memory of His asking, “Whom do you seek?” wrapped around me like a comforting quilt. In a turmoil-filled time, with insecurities seeking to unsettle the very core of the person I have spent a lifetime trying to become, “Whom do you seek?” was a very powerful message of peace that reached deep into my soul because I know Who it is that I seek. I found Him a long time ago and have sought to walk with Him faithfully although too frequently I have released His hand and let the comforting quilt fall from my shoulders. Today I realized I simply needed to remind myself to keep listening for His voice as He asks me, “Whom do you seek?
I love that story!
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 5-9-2010

BECAUSE SHE WAS MY MOTHER

When I drew my first breath,
my MOTHER was with me.
When I was a little girl,
my MOTHER took care of me.
When my children were born,
my MOTHER helped take care of them and me.
When my MOTHER became a widow,
I helped take care of her.
When my grandchildren were born,
one of my children came to help take care of my widowed MOTHER
so I could go help take care of my other child and her children.
When my MOTHER grew old,
I took care of her as long as I could.
When my MOTHER drew her last breath,
she was not alone.
I was there.
Because she was my MOTHER.

© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 5-8-2010

But if a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God. I Timothy 5:4 (NIV)

DADDY'S NOT OLD!

My father was born one-hundred years ago today. April 17th doesn’t go by without my thinking about him, so even though he is not here in the flesh, today is no different except to think of the date in terms of the century’s marking it as a milestone.
Although I wonder what he would look like and be like as a senior citizen, Daddy will never grow old in my eyes, because he died without warning from a massive heart attack just before turning fifty-seven.
Being twenty-seven at the time, in my shock, I recall riding in the back seat of a car through the city where my parents lived, seeing a much older man on a sidewalk, and angrily thinking, “Why is he still alive and Daddy dead?” As though someone had shone a bright light in a dark room, that was a turning point in my grief, because the thoughts that tumbled swiftly behind said, “But Daddy doesn’t have to deal with the sorrows of this world anymore.” I could envision the straightening of his slumped shoulders and the tears drying from his eyes because he, like the Apostle Paul, had carried the weight of the church in his heart over the years since his becoming a Christian.
As time softened the blows of Daddy’s departure, I knew I had more reasons to look with thankfulness over the few years I had had with him. Daddy was a man of few words but when he spoke, as with the financier, people listened. I do not recall Daddy ever telling me he loved me but he showed me by laying down his life for me in ways I wish today I had noticed instead of, as a child/youth, taking for granted. During my pre-teen/teen years, he worked as a machinist where his work required that he stand all day. Frequently he rode a bus fifteen miles to work, often walking through severe Maine winter weather great distances in the early morning hours, in order to make the bus connections to be at work on time; the return trip was better because the bus route came closer to our house by that time of day. Between the metallic dust and the public smokers haze acceptable during those years, he suffered chronic sinusitis. At the end of many of those days, he’d look at my mom and say, “I’m not new anymore,” referring back to a childhood comment I’d made on one of his birthdays. I don’t know how old I was, but I had said, “Daddy’s old,” to which Mamma had replied, “Daddy’s not old!” My response had been, “Well, he’s not new, is he?”
During his years at that machine shop, he used his lunch hours to hold Bible studies with the men who wished to partake, and as a result, Daddy became more determined to go into ministry fulltime, which is what he was doing when he died so suddenly. As a result we found notes he’d made for his next Sunday morning’s lesson, so we knew what he had been thinking minutes before he died. We have many of his handwritten Bible Study/sermon notes. More reasons to be thankful.
Daddy was there to pose beside me with a smile while I wore my high school graduation gown and cap and to greet me with pride following an award surprise. I married at nineteen: Daddy was there to give me away and pray at the wedding. We have three children; Daddy met, loved, and played with each one, although our youngest turned three about the time of Daddy’s death. I saw his eyes shine in admiration at my mothering abilities. The last Thanksgiving he lived, our family, including my brothers and their wives and kids, gathered at our house and he and I shared a private smile over some dates I was filling with walnuts. He said, “You’re going to save some for me, aren’t you?” (Meaning leave some with no walnuts because they caused canker sores in his mouth.) Through the years when I have missed Daddy, I have thought about that last Thanksgiving and while I hated that he had to leave us so soon, I have been thankful he is with God, freed from the cares of the world, that would have included seeing how old age infirmities affected my mother, and I have always been thankful that although I never told him enough, he knew that I loved him.

Many happy returns on this day of your birth;

May sunshine and gladness be given;

God in His goodness prepared you on Earth

For a beautiful birthday in Heaven.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY!

Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.
John 15:13 (NASB)

© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 4-17-2010

CONVERSATIONS AND CONCLUSIONS

In a conversation with a friend, she brought forth the fact that she realizes she cannot fix everything, that she has to turn it over to God in prayer, and leave it in His capable care and caring.
Because I, too, am a “fixer” personality, in my mind I kept returning to that conversation and this morning as I woke with it on my mind, I thought back to my childhood. I grew up in central Maine where as a young child I really loved riding my tricycle. One spring day when I sat on its seat, ready to ride our long semi-circular driveway, my knees bumped the handlebars. That was not going to work. I hopped off, ran into the house, told Mamma the problem, and before I knew it, Daddy arrived with some tools in hand, loosened a special bolt and nut, raised the handlebars, tightened the nut and bolt, and I was off on my very merry way with no more bumping knees! What joy I had that day and I was set for the rest of that spring, summer, and well into the fall when the tricycle went back into storage for another season.
You have probably guessed that by the following spring when my tricycle came out from its winter’s wraps, once again my knees hit the handlebars. This time I had no worries though, because I knew my daddy could fix the problem. I was confident when I told Mamma of the problem, only to learn that sometimes problems cannot be so easily fixed. Mamma explained that, yes, last year, Daddy had been able to raise a portion of the front of the tricycle so the handlebars were lifted but what he had done was as much as he could do; there was no extra height left. At that moment, even as a child trying to imagine wild scenarios, I understood that sometimes the answer, for that thing in particular, has to be, “No.”
With that response came disappointment; however, I knew the love of my parents was as great as it had been previously and I was aware they saw my banished hopes. I doubt such a thing as a larger tricycle was available but if so, money wasn’t, so they couldn’t automatically say, “We’ll get you a bigger tricycle.” What I do remember is a used scooter appeared as a riding replacement for my tricycle and it was to be shared with my brother who was three-and-a-half years older than I.
When we are children, we need someone to turn to for help with troubles too big for our minds and bodies to handle. And maybe it’s because we have had capable human examples before us that we have become adults who feel we should be able to take care of it all including fixing everything that comes down the pike, until, like with the tricycle, there comes something that just can’t be fixed by human hands, and then what? Where do we turn, unless we have made a practice of knowing from where our real help comes? Let’s not wait for tricycle troubles to arise before we practice calling on the help at hand, using every resource available, and, here is a point not to be missed, teaching our children to do so as well.
“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.” (I Peter 6:7 NLT)
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 4-4-2010

THE CENTURION AT THE CROSS

Because the thoughts of many are turned to the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus during this season of the year, FaithWriters blog challenged the members to write a 100-word essay from the perspective of a Bible character mentioned in the Easter Story. I liked the challenge; however, even though I felt I fell short of the challenge in more than just the 100-word limit, I entered a portion of this and I would like to share the following with you based on John 18:3ff and Mark15:39:

Being a centurion opened my eyes to many things, but never so much so as what occurred during the past few days.
Because I command many, I was dispatched to Gethsemane one night and once Judas had given the betrayal kiss to the One we were to arrest, that very man stepped forth and asked, “Whom do you seek?” When answered, He said, “I am He.” Many of our number drew back and fell to the ground. However, we arrested, bound, and took Him in where He was tried, convicted, and hanged.
Later standing by the foot of His cross, having witnessed His complete demeanor, how could I help but know and say, “Truly, this man was the Son of God!”?

© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 4-3-2010

FADED FLOWERS

Recently I came across some faded flowers or what some would consider flowers past their prime. By themselves the words would seem to tell tales of lack of attraction, but the more I saw of those flowers whose blooms had lost their luster, the more beauty I saw in each one.
Dandelions came before spring to our West Texas yard brightening the drab gray-brown grasses with brilliant bits of leafy green topped with bright, well, dandelion yellow blossoms. I have always liked bright yellow. I have yet to live down the fact that there was a time in my life when it was such a favorite color I somehow talked my husband into helping me paint three of four of our living room walls a muted shade of that color. And, it was off-set on the fourth wall by a soft yellow background wallpaper filled with a Jacobean design of loden green leaves and muted red flowers. A few years prior to that I had crocheted a dandelion yellow cape for our pre-teen, dark-haired, deep brown-eyed daughter and when a dear friend saw it, he asked her, “Couldn’t your mother find yellow?” Wherever it is these thirty-some years later, I suspect the yellow of that yarn hasn’t faded one iota, but the yellow of the back yard dandelions left almost as quickly as they came. One day they were there and then the rains came. As I went to the back yard one morning, there were some dandelions with a few remaining bits of dandelion dust stuck here and there but what really got my attention was the leftover symmetry of basic beauty that held what had once been a dandelion flower. That morning as I stood in the rain-dampened grass, I discovered a tiny green, many-pointed star-shaped flower base of gorgeous green, not the deep green of dandelion leaves, but almost a light neon green that said, “Look at me! Aren’t I beautiful, too?” It didn’t take me long to get my camera to take a picture of its beauty. Finally, many shots later, I was satisfied. I even found the perfect Bible verse to go with it! “The flower falls off; but the Word of the Lord abides forever.” (I Peter 1: 24b-25)
Is it possible that we look at God’s Word like I first did at the dandelion dust on the faded flowers, thinking, “Oh, I’ve seen it all before” until I looked a little closer and found that bit of beauty that was right in plain sight? Yes, the flower does fall off, but His Word abides forever; a flower that never fades, but with closer inspection becomes more beautiful.
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 3-29-2010

IMAGES IN OUR MINDS

What image enters your mind when you read or hear the following verse from I Corinthians 12:26 ? “ If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”
That was one of the verses in the reading from our night’s Bible message a few evenings back and afterwards as we discussed it, I asked my husband if he, like I, chose to dwell on the positive, rather than the negative portion of that scripture. In thinking about the scripture in relation to the church family, while my thoughts went to the recent rejoicing with a local youngster’s winning a major spelling bee, the author of the article had written regarding the suffering of a fellow human being and the compassionate concern of another to do all in his power to alleviate the stress and strain brought about by his condition.
What did that rejoicing image in my mind say about me, that I want to overlook the suffering part and just go on through life as if everything is always blue skies and rainbows? Did it say I always have a cheery outlook for everything? The answer to each of those questions is a resounding, “No!” although I suspect deep down it does say I would rather have fewer shadows and lots of sunshine on the road of life for myself and for others.
There’s a story in Mark 14:1-9 that tells of the woman who poured a vial of very expensive perfume over the head of Jesus. This is just prior to Jesus’ death and we are not told what prompted her deed, but she was scolded for doing so by some of those present. They spoke openly of how it could have been sold and the money used to care for the poor, but Jesus spoke in her defense, praising her, saying, “Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me. She has done what she could; she has anointed My body beforehand for the burial. Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her.”
Imagine being a part of the scene: Weeping with those who weep? Jesus was facing death and He knew it. Rejoicing with those who rejoice? The woman was praised by the one they called Rabbi. Does her example cause each one of us to want to be more aware of sharing the suffering and rejoicing opportunities that are in our daily lives? We can’t do everything for everybody but let’s remember to apply the lesson from Jesus’ own words: “She has done what she could” as we go about our daily lives always ready to share the suffering with our brethren as faithfully as we rejoice in their good times.
© Marilyn Sue (Libby) Moore 3-23-2010