Sharing our Joy

Life has settled back into what we call normal here at the Anderson house. For those of you who have wondered at the lack of blog postings this past month, it has been a wonderfully, joyous, busy time as we celebrated the wedding of our son, Brett, to his beautiful new bride, Jessica.

While it has been exciting, it also has not allowed for a lot of free time to write. I hope to have a new posting up today or tomorrow, but for now, you can share a glimpse into our joy through a few photos of the blessed event.

Blessed in the Eyes of the Lord

It was not where I had planned for our study in John chapter 9 to go this past Thursday. My intent was to focus on the parallels of the man who “once was blind but now could see”. Somehow we stalled on the first couple of versus, camping on the question the disciples asked, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” From there it was but a short leap to the topic of sickness and death, not a very uplifting way to begin a new year.

Chalk it up to being past the half-century mark in age, but whatever the reason it is a topic that has been the focal point in a number of conversations I have had of late. To be honest, I have found myself struggling with the sadness I see around me as the reality of the shortness of life here on earth takes it’s toll on friends I count quite dear. In the midst of my struggles, the Lord reminded me of something I wrote a number of years ago, shortly after the death of my beloved mother-in law. God’s truths remain and just as the re-reading of this short exhortation encouraged my own heart, I pray it will do the same for you.

June 1992

Bursting with promise, June announces its arrival, heralding the season of summer which we so longed for during the dreary days of winter. Yet even as I anticipate it’s coming, my heart is drawn back to the days of another June one year past, as I stood at the hospital room bedside of my beloved mother-in-law, knowing each breath drawn brought her one step closer to her Lord and another further away from those of us who did not wish to let her go.

“Blessed in the eyes of the Lord is the death of His saints”, writes the psalmist, but I could find no blessing in such a painful parting. Even as the last hymn was sung and the final flowers placed on her grave, I struggled with those words, knowing the emptiness I would feel in the days to come. Gone were the words of encouragement, the thoughtful deeds, the midnight prayers, the unconditional love that had sustained me through some difficult years. She had left us and life would never be the same.

We struggle so with change, with transitions, with saying good-bye to that which we hold so dear. We read the scriptures admonishing us to die continually to our old way of living if we would choose to walk anew with Christ; and though in our hearts we know it to be true, our very being resists relinquishing control, fearful of letting go of that which we know for that which we can only being to catch a glimpse. Yet, as we yield our way, as each breath we take draws us closer to surrendering all that we are...every right that we claim… to the One who wishes to bear all our burdens, what was once a fleeting hope becomes a wonderful reality. Each day we walk with Christ as our sole source of strength, we discover a peace and joy unsurpassed in our fondest dreams.

As we lay aside our own willful desires and aspirations, as we die to our own strategies and thoughts, we are ushered into a realm of living guided by His Holy Spirit. As we surrender our all to Him, He comes and dwells in our midst, offering His comfort and hope, His strength and encouragement, His unconditional love. What blessing will be ours when one day we cross death’s eternal threshold, laying aside all that we have clung to so tightly here upon this earth. In just a moment, we will enter in to His glorious presence, there to dwell forever with the One we have loved so long.

And so, with the psalmist we can say, “Blessed in your eyes oh Lord is the death, the homecoming, of those you love so well.”

A Double Portion

The spicy aroma greeted him as he burst through the door. Eager to find its source, he hurriedly dismissed his books and papers, leaving them to be scattered about the entryway as he rushed into the kitchen. What delectable treat would he find today…strawberry cupcakes or maybe even chocolate chip cookies? Oh the anticipation! Squealing with delight, he could not contain his joy when there on the counter he saw, not one, but two little men fashioned from dough, smelling of ginger and dressed for the holidays in icing of green and red.

Impatiently he watched his mother wrap the fragile figures, careful not to injure a tiny arm or leg. Already the thought had come; it would never do to enjoy such a treat alone, he must find someone to share in his good fortune! Gently he placed the treasure in his pocket, savoring the moment he would taste of its sweetness.

Late afternoon sunlight was still attempting to warm the frozen landscape as he scampered back outdoors. Passing the neighborhood playground, he hesitated a moment, scanning the crowd. Yes, there was some who looked familiar, but none worthy to share in his great wealth. With quickening steps he walked and soon arrived at his destination, the now deserted schoolyard. It was here his friends would always meet, here they would shout and laugh as they engaged one another in a game of basketball or a race around the building. It was here they had shared so many wonderful moments together. But today it was quiet, no sound of footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as he sat waiting on the slide.

The last rays of sunlight danced across the empty swings and jungle gym, no longer could he remain idle. Caught up in the imagination of the young, he spent the waning minutes of the day as a conquering hero in some far off land, scaling castle walls as he fought off fire breathing dragons. It was only when darkness brought with it an urgency to start for home that he remembered the quest that brought him there to the playground. Now he must hurry home, his mother would be watching for him.

Across the field he ran, jumping the irrigation canal, scooting under the hedge, quickly hopping the neighbor’s fence until at last he came upon the street that led to his home. Pausing to catch his breath, he was hit with a keen sense of disappointment; his mission had failed, he had found no one to share in the wonderful treasure still tucked away in his coat. Still, tomorrow was another day, and with renewed enthusiasm he stopped to unwrap the small parcel, to gaze once again at his precious gingerbread boys, only to discover where once two faces full of promise had smiled back in return, all that remained were crumbled pieces of a gift that would never be shared.

If you look closely, you may find an area of your life where God has blessed you with a double portion. Too many times we safely tuck away that which we consider to be ours, intending to share it someday, even as we become entangled in a world that consumes our every thought and action. It may be your time, your talents or your resources, but the day will come when you arrive home and your Father will ask how you have shared that which He so freely gave. Oh that we may hear His words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”

Fear Not

The announcement was made, the details explained and without hesitation, the young woman responded with a courage that causes me to pause and marvel, “Be it done unto me according to Thy word.” With those few, simple words , Mary humbly accepted all that God had promised to fulfill in and through her as she would be the chosen vessel to bear the King of King and Lord of Lords.

I have often wondered when, and if, the first wave of fear and panic filled her heart. Did she cling to the words the angel had spoken, “Fear not, for thou has found favor with God”, even as her thoughts raced with the implications of what she now must do. Was it with excitement or hesitation she sought out her beloved Joseph, eager yet so hesitant to tell him of all that had transpired. How exactly does one explain that which is inexplicable, all the while knowing it has been given from the very hand of God.

Such questions I can only ponder, but this I do know. Joseph was told and then, with haste, Mary did what any woman would be wise to consider; she gave God room to work in the life of the one she held so dear. Leaving her little village of Nazareth, Mary arose and travelled to Juda, a journey of several days, to be with her cousin Elizabeth. There she would spend the next three months without email, without phones, without ever contacting Joseph, all the while wondering, what did the future hold?

Such patience seems archaic in our instant society. We want decisions and we want them now. We want information and communication that we might have some indication of what is taking place. Oh that we might learn from the example of this handmaiden of the Lord. What God has promised, God WILL perform.

Patiently Mary waited, not prodding or pouting, but rather praying to the One who alone could bring Godly wisdom and understanding to the heart and mind of her beloved Joseph. Hear her words as she reflects upon the One who has seemingly turned her world upside down, “My soul doth magnify the Lord. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.”

Patient and praying, she proceeded to put her hands to the task at hand, that of practically helping her cousin Elizabeth, who, in her VERY old age, was heavy with child. For three long months Mary remained, tending to the needs of Elizabeth, helping with the housework and the cooking, lifting the load that Zacharias might otherwise have had to bear. Once THEIR promised child, John, was born, Mary knew, it was time….time to go home and learn what decision Joseph had made.

Joseph, surely such a Godly man must have agonized over his choices, petitioning the Lord for an answer to the seemingly unanswerable question, “What should I do?”

The law said she should be stoned, he had the right to demand it, but his love would not allow it. He could quietly divorce her, but that would cause her to bear the brunt of shame and disgrace that would surely be heaped upon her. Or he could marry her, knowing full well the whispers that would follow, the scorn that would be heaped upon them, even, perhaps, by their own family and closest friends.

Like Jacob of old he must have wrestled.....and then it happened. Perhaps even as Mary was slipping back into the village under the cover of night, perhaps it was at that very moment that the angel appeared unto Joseph with the answer, not only for Joseph but for all humanity, “Fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. And she shall bring forth a son, and THOU SHALT CALL HIS NAME JESUS: FOR HE SHALL SAVE HIS PEOPLE FROM THEIR SINS.”

And then Joseph did that which every wise man would find it well to do, he obeyed the Lord. As the dawn broke he rushed to take Mary as his wife; cherishing until the day he died the one who had patiently waited and prayed for him, trusting that God does all things well.

Counting Our Blessings

Thanksgiving was upon us, but I felt I had very little to be thankful for that year. The past few months had brought tremendous upheaval and sorrow to our family. Without warning, a national company I worked for was closing their doors, eliminating, on short notice, a good portion of our household income. My mother-in law, the dear mother of my husband and beloved grandmother of my children, was diagnosed with untreatable liver cancer. This would be the last Thanksgiving we would spend together.

So it was with a heavy heart I sat in our little church that Wednesday evening, pondering the morrow when we would gather around the table to give thanks. Grabbing the hymnbook from its appointed place, I turned to the correct page as directed by the pastor. It was, I suppose, a great choice for the holiday at hand, but as the church family began to sing, “Count your blessings, name them one by one, count your blessings see what God has done, Count your blessings, name them one by one…” I simply didn’t have the heart to continue. I knew God was good. I knew he would see us through this difficult time. I knew his promises were true. But at that moment, I could not think of a single blessing worth counting.

When the service concluded, an elderly woman who was acquainted with our family came up and stopped in the aisle. Not really wanting to talk, I turned to the task at hand, that of trying to contain our four rowdy children who were anxious to leave the church pew to which they had been confined. Seeing I was flustered, I expected her to hurry on, but she would not be dissuaded.

With a twinkle in her eyes she proclaimed, “Such joy must be yours as you can not only count, but name your blessings.” Then she did something I will never foreget. Making her way down to where the children were, she proceeded to tap each child gently on the head as she spoke their names, “Loren, Sharon, Brett, Laura… one, two three, four." Turning again to me she proclaimed, "My dear you will find your blessings multiplied many times over during the years to come in the lives of these four. Cherish them, nourish them, enjoy them.” And with that, she gave a quick hug and walked down the aisle and out the doors of the church.

Eighteen years removed from that Thanksgiving eve, I find myself remembering and rejoicing as I realize just how true were the words of that sweet saint. In our prolonged season of difficulty and sorrow, God not only gave unto us “beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning”, but he used that very time to draw us into a closer relationship with him. In that seemingly endless season of brokenness, a fresh, sweet fragrance of God’s love permeated our hearts. Out of the depths of despair was born a passionate love for Jesus, which would grow and bear much fruit in the lives of each of our children.

This Thanksgiving I find it difficult once again to count my blessings, not because they are few but because they have become innumerable. As we continue to cherish, nourish and enjoy those whom God has entrusted to our care, our hearts are filled with praise and thanksgiving to the One who has been faithful. He alone is worthy of our praise.

Whether you are walking through difficult days or times of rejoicing, it is my prayer that each of us might join with the four and twenty elders who surround the throne saying, “Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.

The Melody

From the far corners of the earth they had come, if not to bid, at least determined to catch a glimpse of the masterpiece to be offered. It was said no other violin in the world could match the one to be auctioned off that afternoon. To the highest bidder it would go; an instrument capable of rendering such an exquisite sound one would sell all his worldly goods to gain it’s possession. Who would be counted worthy to own such a piece?

A hush descended upon the crowd as he entered the room. A rapid crescendo of whispers followed until at last the auctioneer sounded his gavel. Of course, who better to purchase the old master’s violin than the one who had trained under him for all those years? Who but he could produce the haunting melody that left one longing for more, saddened that such a tune would ever end. Though the bids continued higher and higher, everyone knew it was he who would emerge victorious. There could be no other. It was as it should be.

Stillness crept over the hall as he cradled the violin in his arms, rapt attention given to the moment his gifted hands would bring bow and strings together. Eyes closed in anticipation, few noticed as he carefully began removing the violin’s strings, gently placing them in the aged case. Disappointed swept through the crowd as he began to explain. It would take time to fine tune such an instrument. Perhaps next week he would give a concert, perhaps next month or maybe next year. He would let them know. And with that, he turned and walked out the door.

Years passed, and those who knew him well said he was never again the same. To have such a violin in his possession was more than he could comprehend. Surely he could never recreate the beautiful melody that had flowed so freely from his master’s skillful hands. It was said he spent the remainder of his days stringing and unstringing the violin, never playing the tune for which it was made.

Has God bestowed upon you gifts that are intended to encourage your family, your friends, your sisters in Christ? Has he enabled you to minister to children or worship Him in song, to greet those who walk through the doors Sunday morning or to open your home and invite women in for a time of coffee and fellowship? Has he filled you with compassion to care for the ill or visit the lonely? Has he given you resources to share with those in need…to be the answer to someone’s prayer? Has he simply given you the ability to open your heart to someone in need of a friend?

Romans 12 tells us we have each been given “gifts that differ according to the grace given us”. The choice is yours. God masterfully orchestrates a beautiful symphony of praise. Will you remain in the wings, fine tuning the gifts you have been given or will you choose to let your life become a part of God’s melody? Choose wisely that one day you might hear those words, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little, I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.”

As I Forgive Those...

The call itself was not so unusual. Over the years we would keep in touch and always it was as though no time had passed since last we spoke. Maybe it was a question I asked, maybe it was the very reason she had called, but whatever the cause, it wasn’t long until the tears began to flow and years of anger and hurt and gripping sorrow tumbled out across the line. Twelve years since the bond of marriage had been severed, twelve years since a relationship was shattered and still the pain continued to wear away at her soul.

I grieved for the broken relationship that had strewn heartache and misery in her path. In the wake of her broken marriage angry words had ensued and accusations had been made. The very cords of love which had served to bind the extended family together soon unraveled. Those with whom she had once shared sweet fellowship were now banished from ever crossing the threshold of her home. There seemed to be no balm that would heal the wound.

Now, word had reached her that the one who had so wounded her was nearing life’s end. The pain has surfaced anew, but she has vowed he will be long in his grave before she will offer forgiveness. And all the while, the tears flowed.

The significance of those words struck home several weeks later as I attended the funeral of another who had suffered a broken relationship. Raised by God-fearing parents, he had once seemed to draw near to Jesus. But like my friend, he was left hurt and bitter by the rejection of one who had professed to love him. The years had never seemed to ease the pain and rather than turning to the One who had suffered the greatest rejection of all time, he chose to sever all ties with the One who had died to offer him the greatest gift of all. Only God knows the eternal price of a broken relationship.

Forgiveness is not easy. Peter knew this to be true. He came to Jesus that day and asked “Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Till seven times? Jesus answered him, “I say not unto thee, seven times: but seventy times seven.”


Realizing how difficult this would be, the apostles said unto the Lord, “Increase our faith!”

As I gaze upon the cross and hear the words of Jesus which echo through the ages, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”, may I humbly pray every day, “My Father who art in Heaven….forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who have trespassed against me.”