Redeeming the Day

    Today is Halloween. It is a holiday about which Christians disagree and, since it started with the Celts in the U.K. 2000-3000 years ago, there is no Biblical mention of it. That makes it one of those disputable matters like the example in Paul's day of buying meat sacrificed to idols. Our church tries to redeem the day by outreach. One of the church families has a home on the east side of town. The older homes there are expensive, yet close together, so it is prime pickings for trick or treating. Kids from all over town get dropped off by their parents on those busy avenues. Our church college and career group stands in front of that home handing out candy for the kids, hot cider for the adults, gospel tracts, and invitations to church. Our pastor's family also uses it for outreach. They live in a newer neighborhood full of young families. I cannot tell you how many of the families now in our church came because they were invited by the pastor's family. They are very intentional in reaching out to their neighbors, and Halloween is the one day a year hundreds of neighborhood kids will come to their door, so they are ready with treats and invitations to church. Since their boys are in sports, they also have opportunities for extended visits with parents while watching their kids play, which leads to other opportunities like inviting the staff at the urgent care, E.R., physical therapy, etc.

    We cannot use the day for outreach because no one comes to our house. We live in a cul-de-sac where the houses are far apart and our end of the road has no streetlights. I used to take my niece and nephew trick-or-treating here because, since they might be the only kids coming, the neighbors tended to dump the candy bowl into their bags. As an aunt, too much candy would not be a problem I had to deal with. But our quiet doorbell makes me a little sad because I have such happy memories of taking my younger brother and sister trick-or-treating, even in our sketchy neighborhood in Missoula, and of taking our young children in the sketchy Kalispell neighborhood we lived in at the time. Pumpkin carving day was celebrated with donuts and cider. The only gross thing about Halloween was the pumpkin guts--and watching our cat Cisco eat them. Back then both our church and Christian school held carnivals as alternative entertainment, and businesses at our, now nearly empty, mall handed our treats.

    I simply refuse to sacrifice those memories because of pagan practices centuries ago on another continent. If Halloween is an evil day, it is because, in this world, all of them are. The Christian's responsibility is "redeeming the time (making the most of every opportunity Eph. 5:16 NIV), because the days are evil." Wow, I managed to post four blogs this month after all.

A Passion Not for Christ

    We were at a church potluck recently when a man we have known for many years sat at our table. When he learned that the young woman next to me was a nurse, I knew we were in for a long monologue about the great passion of his life--nutrition. For many years he sent editorial letters to the local paper expounding on his theories. Thankfully, he now has an online forum where like-minded, food obsessed people can share ad nauseam. Not that there is anything wrong with nutrition, it is a harmless, potentially healthy, pursuit. The problem is that the thing for which he has endless enthusiasm and enough excitement to prompt him to share it with total strangers, is nutrition--not the Lord. From the editorial letters he used to send, and in-person conversations, though he is not saying anything inappropriate, you really cannot tell that he is a Christian.

    From knowing his wife, the patient way he deals with their adult special needs son, and his faithful attendance at church, I assume he is a believer, but that is not the passion of his life. When I die and at last see Jesus (not to underestimate His grace and compassion) I want to be welcomed with, "Thanks for loving me so much" not "Oh, the nutrition person." Healthy eating can help us feel better in this life, but Jesus made it plain that human effort does not change the expiration date He chose for us (Mt. 6:27). And when Jesus said "after such things the Gentiles seek," (Mt. 6:32), it was an observation, not a recommendation. His command, even to the poor of His time who did not know where their next meal was coming from, is not to worry about what we will eat, drink or wear. (Mt. 6:31). Focus on food has no eternal value because all the food in heaven will be good for us. 

    Fortunately for him and us, the nice nurse was willing to converse with him. It makes me wonder if the things I share about the most, reveal my love for the One who loved me with such compassion that He gave up everything to save me. Lord you have given me blessings too numerous to mention and time to pursue my hobbies and interests, like writing. But help me to make you the overflow of my mouth, my mind, my heart, for that passion should go only to you.

Can't Write, Gotta Write

     Most months I like to have at least four blog posts for the sake of my few followers and my own sanity, so I am watching with despair the dwindling October days. For good or bad, I am still having ideas for blogs, but I have not had time to write them because I am too busy writing. A friend from church, Beth, manages a ministry called Promise Clubs for special needs adults and children. There is a written curriculum for the meetings, but she asked me to write a devotional for the adults/caregivers using the same curriculum. (Ridiculously hard to spell, in future references, I am subbing the words materials or program.) There are 13 weeks of lessons with four devotional studies per week. This is actually a paid writing gig! Who knew? 

     So the reason I have had no time to write is that I have been too busy writing. I have never written devotionals, so I slavishly copied the format from the sample she gave me, which is only about 14 lines of text on a 5 x 7 page. Although I need to tie them to the Bible story in the materials, I can choose my own verse references and make my own aim and applications. Since I am a word miser, keeping it short is fine with me. When I sent Beth my devotions, she liked them but said it is okay to go deeper into the weariness, loneliness, and frustration of special needs homes. Since my Mom was mentally ill and my brother is mentally disabled, I did not need to imagine those feelings, I lived them. 

    I am enjoying this writing project, in many ways they are like condensed versions of my blog. And I have been surprised to find that my take away and applications from the familiar Bible stories are not at all what I expected I would. The Lord has been faithful to help me find the direction and the words to get started on each day's lesson. I really have nothing to write without His input, so I just have to wait for his timing. When my subject matter is the Bible, I need to be subject to the Master who wrote it.

 

Loopholes

    There has been a fad in recent years of churches changing their names. In Kalispell, what was the Christian Center is now called Canvas, the Alliance Church on the west side of town became Adventure, Evergreen Alliance allied with a different group entirely and is now Trailhead. A name that always amuses me as we pass through Polson, is a church called Movement. I can't help but think of the Red Green Show where the name of the Possom Lake newspaper was the Daily Movement. My church home, Central Bible Church, wants to keep the Bible in the center of our name just like it has always been in our theology.

   The first few chapters of this year's Bible study of Romans shows Gentiles looking away from God to sin for satisfaction, and the Jews looking to the Law for righteousness. Neither of those things work, but fellowship with our own kind makes us feel good about ourselves, so I have a suggestion for a name that might make a church incredibly popular-- The Loophole. We are born looking for loopholes. Adam found a loophole when he blamed Eve (and the Lord who gave her to him) for his disobedience. Eve looked for a loophole when she blamed her sin on the serpent. Even non-verbal toddlers confronted for committing a no-no like writing on a wall, book, or themselves, will point to a sibling, the dog, even mommy. Grown up Christians do the same thing every time we justify our sin. And worldly culture, though scoffing at the very idea of sin, automatically blame shifts when they get caught doing something even they realize they shouldn't. 

    Since it is in our nature to look for loopholes, and church names now make trendy, but vague, statements about ideology, The Loophole is certain to be seeker friendly. They could still use the Bible, but instead of expounding on its teachings, they could explain them away. However, I would not want to go to a church full of people who take no responsibility for their own bad decisions. Who wants to fellowship with felons, forecasters (weather/economic/pollsters) and politicians? I will stick with the saved sinners I spend time with now, and when the Bible bumps me in the behind, I may still blame shift, but I don't have enough faith to believe that God's holy Word leaves us loopholes.

What the Sign Reveals

 

    For months there has been a portable flashing speed sign similar to the one above, on one of my main routes into town. Supposedly, it is because of a work zone several blocks ahead, although the speed limit on that part of the road has been posted at 25 mph for decades, probably since automobiles replaced horses. But somehow, driving past a sign that displays 25 mph and has the audacity to flash if you are going even one mph over the limit has been a revelation to me, not about my speed, but about my stinkin' thinkin' towards authority. 

 

•   I have blown raspberries at it. 
•   Rolled my eyes.
•   Argued with it:  Gimme a break. I'm only 1 mile over!
•   Gloated: See, I'm going 25. Happy now? 
•   And I get really rude when I'm under the speed limit.

 

    The sign reminds me (but probably not normal people) of Simeon's prophecy to Mary in Luke 2:34-35 when Jesus was brought to the temple for circumcision. "This child is destined to cause the rising and falling of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed . . ." What the stupid flashing sign reveals to me is not the speed limit, I already know that. As I speak against it when I drive past, it reveals my unwillingness to be told what to do, even by an innocent, inanimate object. It flashes into my consciousness the thoughts of my heart. 

   Perhaps I should keep that visual in mind when I condescendingly condemn the hardness of the religious leaders of Jesus time when the truth was standing right in front of them. When He gave sign after sign that He was who He claimed to be. When he told them that breaking one commandment (even by just 1 mph) meant their righteousness was not enough. The sign is correct when it says "WORK ZONE", every time I  pass it, the Spirit goes to work on my heart.

 

 

Dancers at Rest

     Though it is usually my favorite season, I am starting to see autumn as the opposing team trying to run out the clock on the good weather we need to complete our home siding and painting project. I had also begun to believe I was no longer capable of writing poetry, but today I wrote this . . . I did not specify good poetry.

 

Dancers at Rest 

 

Almost as if they're taking turns,

the leaves blush red as autumn burns

its annual invitation on

the rings within the tree. 

 

Not all at once, but branch by branch,

their costumes change before the dance.

The leaves like lilting music sway

till, one by one, they're swept away.

 

I'm glad they have this final time

to dress their finest, soar sublime, 

uplifted by the cool, fall winds,

then float to earth to join their friends.

 

Through spring and summer we have made

a leafy refuge of their shade.

And I, with many seasons blessed, 

can understand their need for rest. 

 

9/18/26 

 

 

 

Et Tu, City Brew?

    That catchy title refers to Caesar's question to Brutus in the Shakespeare play "Julius Caesar." As Caesar is being betrayed and stabbed by Roman senators, he asks his friend Brutus if he is betraying him too. Et tu, Brute'?, meaning you too Brutus? The answer was, yes. I chose it as a title because: 1) Using Latin makes me sound smart 2) Brew sounds like Brute' 3) It is the second business to disappoint me in the last few days. In my last post I whined about being let down by Les Schwab, this one is about today's experience at City Brew. I have been a City Brew fan since the first one opened close to where I live. Sadly, that location closed, but another opened in Evergreen. Between being located in one of those black hole spots that kills every business that builds there, and chronic staffing problems, that one closed too. The only remaining City Brew is near the hospital and, after today, I'm not so sure about that one.

    My coffee place picks have a lot to do with perks, and I had received a $5 off a drink purchase that was only good for a few days. I had never seen the City Brew parking lot so empty at noon before, and at the tables where there are usually students and businessmen on computers, Bible study and knitting groups meeting, I was the only customer. Since I drank my emergency freezer frappe that helps with my migraines yesterday, I ordered a follow up frappe. I gave the girl my phone number (twice, slowly), showed her the offer on my phone, and ordered my drink (twice, slowly). She charged me full price. I explained it again. She and the other young woman conferred and said the discount only applied to hot drinks. I explained (twice, not so slowly) that it did not say that, and the offer has never worked that way before. Meanwhile I got on my City Brew app, started to order the same frappe and it applied the discount. Finally, an older woman came out of the back, easily found the coupon in my account and took my order. Then the girls made my drink (slowly). The only other customer who came in after me got tired of waiting, asked for her money back, and left (quickly).

    This does not bode well for the future of our lone City Brew. I definitely will not be requesting their gift card for my birthday. I understand what it is like to be new to a job, that excuses the slow and don't know part, but employees who make up explanations roast my beans. It is not like getting stabbed or anything, but lying to me in a business filled with the aroma of so many happy memories feels a little like betrayal. First Les, now--You too, City Brew?