Did you do this as a child: inspect a flower (or a bug) under a magnifying glass to see every detail? Are you nodding yes? Me, too. There's something special about looking up close at the delicate petals of a flower or the minuscule veins of its leaves. I was excited to look at the bug, too—until I noticed the sharp pinchers and pointy-looking appendages! Eww! I opted to inspect more gentle living things and inanimate objects: a butterfly, a blade of grass, and smooth river stones. When I looked through the magnifying glass, I was surprised to see a coiled hook on the butterfly's mouth, spiny edges along the edges of the blades of grass, and divots in the stones. Later, playing with sticks in the yard, I got a splinter. It didn't hurt too much. My mother held the magnifying glass over my finger. The end of the splinter was stuck in the center of my middle finger, and I noted the swirling, curvy pattern on my fingertips that I'd not seen before. "Everyone's fingerprints are different," Mom remarked. "Do you know that no one else in the world has fingerprints just like yours?" Amazed, I barely noticed as she pulled out the splinter. As an adult, I still use a magnifying glass on occasion, but these days, I avoid looking too close at the details—the age spots on my face and forearms, the large pores at the end of my nose, or the tiny lines accompanying the wrinkles on my forehead, above my lip, and the creases surrounding my mouth. Sometimes our lives can feel magnified, too. But if there was anyone whose life was truly magnified, it was that of Jesus. His enemies scrutinized Him. They magnified every word or action, turning against him and twisting their interpretation of who He really was: Jesus Christ, Son of God, blameless, without sin. Talk about magnification—he took upon himself the sin of mankind as he hung crucified on the cross. Sometimes I wonder what God sees when he looks at me? My first inclination is to frown, for I am flawed. But then I remind myself that God isn't using a magnifying glass. He overlooks every splotch and marking on the outside and every speck of sin on the inside. I smile. I am a forgiven child of the King. I am cleansed through my faith and belief in Him. He sees through my flaws. And He will see through yours, too. The next time you have an "Eww" moment or feel a frown forming, remember how God sees you—as something beautiful! All things good are magnified through the glory of Jesus Christ our Lord! <><<><<>< "Take away my sin, and I will be clean. Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." - Psalm 51:7 Blog adapted from a previous post from 9/2018. Photo: Nancy Johnson
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The nest is vacant. The mother dove sits on a branch, scanning the landscape below. What does she think now that her babies have left her tender care? We don’t know what goes through the mind of a bird, but anyone who is a parent knows what it’s like when a child leaves home to discover the world on their own. The mother and father Mourning doves built a nest in the front entryway of our house. Many Mourning doves mate for life. They make a good team. The mother built the nest, but the father brought nesting materials for her. When the eggs appeared, the birds took “shifts” sitting on the nest—Mama took nights; Daddy took days. We were excited when the eggs hatched; the fuzzy heads of the babies bobbed, their open beaks waiting for food. The babies grew quickly. Within a few weeks, they were nearly the size of the mother. With little room in the nest for her and the babies, she gave them room to sleep in the nest at night while she stayed close by, returning at daybreak. Soon, the mother and father bird encouraged the babies to test their wings. They preened often, removing the “baby down” in favor of newly grown feathers. Occasionally, they’d flutter their wings. The larger baby seemed more determined to learn to fly than the smaller one. We counted the days. The babies would “fledge” soon (at least, that's the way it's supposed to be). The next day, the mother and father returned simultaneously to the nest. It was a sight to see four birds crowded into the nest. It seemed the parents intended to coerce the young ones to leave the nest. The father flew off, then the mother glided to the sidewalk below. She remained on the sidewalk, looking up at the babies, waiting for them to follow. The larger baby flapped its wings. Suddenly aloft, it flew into the yard, landing on the edge of a planter. It had fledged—to freedom! However, the remaining baby sat quietly in the nest. It seemed reluctant to leave. Was it fearful? Not ready? Was something wrong? We didn’t know, but the bird was left alone, with the mother returning only to feed it. We hoped the parents wouldn't neglect it, as sometimes happens in the animal world if they sense that something is wrong. But then, just before dusk, came a surprise. The sibling, who had earlier flown from the nest, returned to stay with the small bird through the night. When the mother returned at daybreak, the sibling departed. The small bird remained in the nest, making no effort to fly. Again, at night, the sibling returned to stay with its nestmate. The next morning, the mother finally coaxed the small bird from the nest. It flapped its wings a number of times, then took the courageous first flight, landing in the yard. The mother stayed nearby, watching as the baby hopped across the street. It had survived it's first flight, now exploring its new world. The Mourning Doves had not only worked together as a team, but they cared about each other. Who would have guessed the sibling would return to the nest to help its nestmate? Or that the mother and father bird would wait so patiently for the hatchings to fledge? My husband and I discussed the wonder of it all. Who teaches the birds to build a nest, how long to sit on the eggs, or how to feed the babies? What prompts the mother and father birds to “take shifts” to care for the babies? How do the little know when it is time to flap their wings and fly from the nest? How does the mother know when to encourage the babies to leave? And how is it that these creatures know how to show compassion and take care of each other? (They are an example for some of mankind these days). The Book of Job in the Bible contains beautiful, descriptive verses about God’s creation and the wonder of all He has made (see Job 37:1-24 and Job 38:4-41). It is impossible for science to prove the universe's origin and the earth's creation, but faith in God makes belief in what would otherwise seem impossible, possible. Looking out our front window, we are sad to see the empty nest. We miss the doves. We felt a kinship with them, we talked to them, and checked on them every day. They grew accustomed to our presence. Perhaps they will return next year, and maybe one of the grown babies will raise its own brood in the same place. The empty nest brought back memories of when our children grew up and left home. Any parent knows what that feels like It's a big adjustment—and emotion-evoking. Yet, while some offspring readily "fly the coop," others need encouragement to get out into the world. But one thing is sure: the day of departure is one for which our children have been destined since birth. With each day, they grow closer to independence. Leaving home requires letting go—for us and for them. It’s a time of change and discovery, yet wrapped in hope for the future. The cycle of life continues. It’s part of God’s love story in His plan for His creation. That includes you and me—and the small creatures He made, too! No more junk food! I promised myself I'd do better, so I went to the farmer's market. Intrigued by a lush display of green sprouts, I made the decision to grow them myself and found a seed-sprouting kit on clearance. The tag read, "$2.48 As is." Was something missing? I opened the box, inspecting the contents: 1 lid, 2 sprouting trays, 1 water reservoir. Nothing was broken and the seed packets were intact. The only thing missing were the instructions. However, as I turned the box over, I saw small photographs showing how the seeds were placed in the trays. When I got home, I spread the tiny seeds in the growing trays, sprinkled water through the lid, and watched it drip into each chamber. There. In a few days, I'd have my own delicious sprouts. Each day, I watched. And waited. Day 1: I kept the seeds moist, rinsing them at two different times. Day 2: Two tiny seeds sprouted! I added water to the trays. Day 3: Disappointment! Only a few more seeds had sprouted. What was taking so long? Day 4: Double disappointment! According to a website, the seeds should have sprouted by now, but less than a handful of mine taken root. Having saved the packaging, I found the problem: the seeds were expired. No wonder they hadn’t grown! My sprout-growing experience reminded me of Jesus' parable about seeds in Matthew 13:27: “The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where did the weeds come from?” Jesus told them an enemy did this. The servants asked Jesus if they should go pull up the weeds, but Jesus told them not to, for in doing so, they might pull up the wheat with the weeds. He said the two would grow together until harvest, when the weeds would be gathered and burned, and the wheat would be gathered and brought into the barn. I didn't realize until it was too late that my "As is" sprouting kit was defective. I had not sown good seed. Perhaps the seeds might have been good at an earlier date, but now, they had been dormant too long. The next time I went shopping, I was careful to look for good seeds and I succeeded in growing the sprouts—good nutrition to my body. "Good seed" is a reminder for my spiritual life, too. I don't want to be "spiritually dormant" like the expired seeds that will not grow. May God's Word continue to sprout in our lives to keep us spiritually healthy! (And a bit of greenery in our diet will serve us well, too!) Marshmallow peeps, creme candy eggs, and chocolate bunnies line store shelves—such sweet sugary-laden treats children love (as parents cringe at the thought). But these worldly items offer no explanation or representation of the real message of Easter. The real message of Easter can be simply stated: Jesus, the sacrificial Lamb of God, paid the price for humankind's sins so that we might have the freedom of new life through His death and resurrection on the cross. (But clearly, Jesus' path to the cross was not simple). Like newborns, we are made new though our faith in Him. "Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." - 2 Corinthians 5:17 The candy peeps and chocolate bunnies will never represent Easter. However, the "real" baby chicks, bunnies, birds, and other baby animals born in this spring season, along with the blooming of flowering plants and trees, are a reminder that God brings new life to earth. And He has brought new life to us through Jesus Christ, who offers us salvation from the darkness of the sin of the world. May your Easter be a day of celebration as you indulge in this beautiful, sweet message of spiritual food for your soul: "Jesus Christ is risen! He has risen indeed!" My prayer for you: May you rejoice in the rebirth of your spirit and be renewed in faith today and each day, and may the light, joy, and love of the Lord guide you in all you do. <><<><<>< "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." - John 3:16 NIV I woke up suddenly from a deep sleep with an image in my mind: I was holding out my hands in front of me with my palms up, but my hands were empty. For weeks, I’d prayed fervently for people with serious medical issues. I couldn’t help but worry about their diagnosis, how it was affecting their physical and mental health, their quality of life, and what the coming weeks and months would hold. When the image of my open hands appeared in my mind, it happened at a particularly odd time: 11:11 p.m. At that moment, I felt I was being helped, guided, and persuaded—all at once. I was certain this was an answer to prayer about all of the concerns. But in that answer to prayer, I realized my job was not to worry but to trust God. The worry lifted, and my hands felt suddenly light as a sense of peace washed over me. God had removed the weight of my worries and fears and taken them unto Himself. There were not mine to hold onto. God’s message was clear. It was as if He was saying, It’s Out of Your Hands. End of story. Period. It was time to quit worrying—and trust Him. # May you, too, be at peace, knowing that God is only a prayer away—give your worries to Him. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” – Matthew 11:28-30 NIV photo courtesy of Vecteezy.com Story adapted from a December 2019 blog (N. Johnson) |
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