All in Jesus

Running a Good Race: preaching the true gospel

The higher up the mountain trail I hiked that summer morning, the more amazing the rugged beauty became. It is said that aspens quake; and so they do, their leaves in constant motion. Fresh new cones topped the evergreens. The rocky peaks of Mt. Timpanogos rose in the blue, blue sky, a touch of snow tucked in grey crevices. Marmots scampered; birds twittered; a moose lumbered across the meadow.

Running a Good Race: by obeying truth

In my high school days I participated in as many sports as a girl could in the late 50s. Basketball turned out to be my game of choice due to my height. The basketball-cum-track coach figured she could capitalize on my long legs in the high jump, so she added me to the track team. And when she needed a fourth for the girls’ relay at the last minute, I was up for the challenge. Much to my horror I did not make the transfer. I dropped the baton!

Running a Good Race: when things cut in

So how’s your 2020 playing out? I confess to being an Olympic junkie, so when Tokyo was cancelled this summer, my sole consolation was the reruns of previous highlights. This caught my eye: Rio 2016, just over 3000 meters into a semifinal of the women’s 5K, USA’s Abbey D’Agostino clips the heel of Nikki Hamblin of New Zealand and both runners fall to the track. Dazed after her tumble Hamblin lay there in tears. She had been running a good race; now all hopes of gold were dashed.

Called to BE Free: on the vine

By the end of May the Covid threat was lessening, so when aunt ‘Chelle called to recruit blueberry pickers, grandson #3 and I jumped at the chance. It was a gorgeous day. Didn’t matter that we had to drive twenty minutes. Didn’t matter that they had to take our temperature. We were free, our masks were off, and the blueberries were plentiful. Armed with the secret to efficiency—attach your pail to your belt so you can use both hands—we found a row to ourselves.

Called to BE Free: in Jesus’ yoke

Ladies, I have to admit—it’s the being free in this world of ours with its expectations that gets tricky. And way back then, a mere fifteen or so years from the cross, Paul’s friends in Galatia were being burdened by the rule-making of the religious zealots. Considering that God’s concept of freedom in Eden with its one rule had spiraled down to the 613 Torah plus multi oral laws by Jesus’ time, it was not surprising. Faith was too easy. Let’s add a little circumcision here, some dietary restrictions there, a few of the old feast days. Then you will be saved for sure.

Transforming Lives: living for God

So, why was Paul so astonished (1:6) as to call his friends in Galatia foolish (3:1)? Not wasting words he jumped right in: you are so quickly deserting the one who called you by the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—which is really no gospel at all (1:6-7). He was adamant they understand the monumental personal transformation each had undergone, not by the law but by faith.

Life in the Gardens of God: tending to the weeds

When we moved to Texas from southern Ontario some 40 odd years ago, I was so excited about the prospect of planting a vegetable garden, nurturing gorgeous roses, and harvesting pecans from the tree in my spacious back yard. In Ontario I had managed a small plot of veggies and babied along some hybrid teas, considering the short growing season. Why, you couldn’t plant beans until the 9th of June! Sad to say though, in Tyler my efforts were in vain—the pecans were wormy and tough to crack, black spot got the best of the roses, rhubarb couldn’t stand the heat, the carrots were woody. But oh my, how the weeds did flourish. Since I had assigned weed control to my seven-and-eight-year-olds, they hated that garden. After one season of crop failure, we all quit.

Of Redwoods and Rivers and Sand Dunes

Time for a hike today, ladies. Lady Bird Johnson Grove beckons. In June, or so the park ranger tells us, the rhododendrons are in beautiful bloom. Today we are amazed by all the lush ferns carpeting the forest floor. The trail through the tropical rainforest proves to be extremely refreshing. Some of the old redwoods are monstrous. So are the fallen logs and stumps, purposefully left au naturel by the park service, to do their thing—shoot sprouts of new growth up to the sun. I am intrigued.

Of Redwoods and Rivers and Sand Dunes

Hop aboard, ladies. We’re taking a ride up the Oregon coast this week to see some amazing sights in God’s creation. First stop, a touch of grandeur in Redwood National Park. The California or coastal redwood, scientific name sequoia sempervirens, grows only in a narrow strip of land from northern California through Oregon, close to the coast yet not too close as it doesn’t like salt spray. Plentiful rainfall and summer fog of the region are just what they need—fog drip accounts for 30% of the yearly water supply. The “redwood” name comes from a bright red, fibrous bark when freshly exposed. They boast the tallest—Hyperion, at 379’—but cannot match the 102’ girth of the General Sherman, a non-related sequoiadendron giganteum in the Sierra Nevadas.*

And Jesus said, “I Am” … life, forevermore

Jesus’ “I am the gate”, and “I am the good shepherd” metaphors bewildered His listeners. At the Feast of Dedication (Hanukkah) their questions continued: “If you are the Christ, tell us plainly” (John 10:24). Again they tried to stone Him, and again He slipped away, across the Jordan, where many believed (10:31-42). He was there when news came that His friend Lazarus was sick.

And Jesus said, “I Am” … life, to the full

The Pharisees bombarded the “light of the world” with questions, in total denial of His “I am” claims. When Jesus stated, “before Abraham was born, I am!”…they picked up stones to stone him (John 8:58-59). They knew He was claiming to be God; but it was not yet His time so He slipped away, continuing on to heal a man born blind. The man believed and worshipped Jesus; the Pharisees remained in their sin (9:1-41).