The Infant Redeemer

George MacDonald wrote a wonderful series of books centered around a parish minister, his family, and his parish.  It is full of the beauty of simple, ordinary life which is, in fact, the canvas of the Spirit's work in this world.  A year ago I read "Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood" which has become an all-time favorite book.  Last fall, I enjoyed "The Vicar's Daughter", and now I have begun "The Seaboard Parish."  It hold promise of being just as much of a jewel as the previous two books, as the following passage shows:

"There is one thing," said Wynnie, after a pause, "That I have often thought about-why it was necessary for Jesus to come as a baby: he could not do anything for so long."  

"First, I would answer, Wynnie, that if you would tell me why it is necessary for all of us to come as babies, it would be less necessary for me to tell you why he came so: whatever was human must be his.  But I would say next, Are you sure that he could not do anything for so long?  Does a baby do nothing?  Ask mamma there.  It is for nothing that the mother lifts up such heartfuls of thanks to God for the baby on her knee?  Is it nothing that the baby opens such fountains of love in almost all the hearts around?  Ah! you do not think how much every baby has to do with the saving of the world-the saving of it from selfishness, and folly, and greed."  

"And for Jesus, was he not going to establish the reign of love in the earth?  How could he do it better than begin from babyhood?  He had to lay hold of the heart of the world:  How could he do better than begin with his mother's-the best one in it."

"Through his mother's love at first, he grew into the world.  It was first by the door of all the holy relations of the family that he entered the human world, laying hold of mother, father, brothers, sisters, all his friends; then by the door of labour, for he took his share of his father's work; then, when he was thirty years of age, by the door of teaching-by kind deeds, and sufferings, and through all by obedience unto the death.  You must not think little of the grand thirty years wherein he got ready for the cheif work to follow.  You must not think that while he was thus preparing for his public ministrations, he was not all the time saving the world, even by that which he was in the midst of, ever laying hold of it more and more."

What insight G.McD. had of the first thirty years of our Lord's life.  I must confess that I had thought of those years as simply preparatory, but here we come to understand that the Lord began our redemption and sanctification even as an infant newly born.  Jesus sanctifies the life and work of babies, of family, of friends, and of co-workers, long before He begins his life of public ministry.  

I would have readily agreed that the Lord prepared the way, through all aspects of humanity, for us to become like him, but I just hadn't thought about it in this way.  The Scripture tells us not despise the day of small things.  Apparently, small things indeed pack a mighty punch.  

Non Nobis

Non nobis domine sed nominee tuo da gloriam.

"Not to us, O Lord, but to Your name be the glory."  

In the year 874 after the victorious battle of Etheldun, King Alfred led his men in "Non nobis..." the opening words of Psalm 115.  Likewise, after the battle of Agincourt in 1415, King Henry led his army in the singing of this same Psalm.  Again, in 1807, after 30 years of defeat, the gallery of the British Parliament rang out with "Non nobis...!" in praise and thanksgiving for the passage of William Wilburforce's bill to abolish slavery.  

Last Sunday, 2008, we sang this same phrase and listened to the exposition of this mighty Psalm.  Not to us, but to thy name be glory!  We are given to trusting in anything but God, but by His great grace and mercy He calls us to trust in Him; and better still, His own Spirit enables us to trust in Him.  For of ourselves, we are nothing.  In Him, the Resurrected Son, the first fruits of righteousness, we are the sons of God. Not to us, but to thy name be glory!  

The Psalmist again writes in 95:4, "In His hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are His also."  No matter the unknown places we go, the deep and dark corners of the heart and mind, God has plumbed those depths with His light and knowledge.  We cannot go where His hand does not hold.  Likewise, when all is glorious in our life and going wonderfully well, it is good to remember that the mountain top of the moment is not due to our making, but to the greatness and goodness of God.  "Not to us, O Lord, but to thy name be glory."  

Say What?!?!

The Stones Cry Out

God's Word tells us that the heavens and the earth show forth His glory.  

"The heavens declare the glory of God..." (Isaiah 6:3) and "...the whole earth is full of His glory." (Jer.6:3).  

The photo above is of a geode, a Celestial Geode, a stone from within the earth which reveals the heavens - a beautiful example of the heavens and the earth crying out in testimony of God's glory.  In his March 23rd entry of Morning and Evening, Spurgeon writes of the glory of God, and if the stones cry out and give testimony, why shouldn't we?  We who were once as dead as stone.

"I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out."  -Luke 19:40

"But could the stones cry out?  They most certainly could if He who opens the mouth of the dumb commanded them to lift up their voice.  If they were able to speak, they would have much to testify in praise of Him who created them by the word of His power.  They could extol the wisdom and power of their Maker who called them into being.  Will we not speak well of Him who made us new creatures and out of stones raised up children of Abraham?  

The old rocks could tell of chaos and order and of the handiwork of God in successive stages of Creation's drama.  Cannot we talk of God's decrees, of God's great work in ancient times, and all that He did for His church in the days of old? 

If the stones were to speak, they could tell of their breaker who took them from the quarry and made them fit for the temple.  Cannot we tell of our glorious Breaker, who broke our hearts with the hammer of His Word so that He might build us into His temple?

If the stones could cry out, they would magnify their builder, who polished them and fashioned them into a palace.  Will we not talk of our Architect and Builder, who has put us in our places in the temple of the Living God?

                                                       

If the stones could cry out, they might have a long, long story to tell by way of a memorial.  A great stone has often been set up as a memorial before the Lord.  We, too, can testify of the great things God has done for us.  They are our Ebenezers, our stones of help and pillars of remembrance.  

The broken stones of the law cry out against us, but Christ Himself, who has rolled away the stone from the door of the tomb, speaks for us.  Stones might well cry out, but we will not let them. We will hush their noise with ours.  All our days, we will break forth into sacred song and bless the majesty of the Most High, glorifying Him who is called "the shepherd, the stone of Israel" (Gen.49:24).

Just Braggin'

Buttercups

Growing up in South Texas afforded the not-so-usual seasonal delights.  In autumn, the leaves didn't turn bright orange, gold, or red.  They just eventually turned brown and fell off shortly before the tree was ready to bud again.  But, oh, those clear, cool days of fall and winter when all the smells of the earth and trees were sharp, and the bay was the most gorgeous, placid blue green.  On especially calm, clear days the horizon between water and sky was lost, melted into one another.  

And in springtime there were no daffodils or crocuses poking up through the barely-warmed earth.   But, there were Buttercups!  My sister and I loved Buttercups.  They were one of the first harbingers of south Texas springtime - the first of oceans of prairie-grass and coastal flowers yet to bloom.  We were delighted by their daintyness, by the fragile pink cup of buttery gold which brushed off on our noses and chins.  A perfect flower for little girls.  

All these lovely memories of early spring, came to me via the photographs you see here, taken by a cousin.  I hope you enjoy them, too.  

Three Dog Days

Despite the recent snowfall, spring has arrived in middle Tennessee.  The tender, soft green blades of grass have transformed the brown fields to a whispery green carpet, and the spring onion shoots are dotted around in lawn and field like so many exclamation points.  The daffodils are in bloom and the trees are beginning to bud out.  I love this time of year!

Even so, I am going to miss my winter walks with my three companions, Darby, Chloe, and Ladybug.  The fields and woods are beautiful in winter.  The grasses have died back and you can really see the lay of the land and any interesting sights that were hidden from view all summer. Because the trees are bare, you can see a long way into other fields that are usually hidden from view.  We have a hollow in one corner of the pasture, under a large fallen tree, that is cozy to walk in; and if it's windy, it offers shelter from the wind.  It's really quite a delightful winter walk, and it's great fun having my three girls with me.

Each day, whether to let Hugo out or bring Hugo in, it is always the great doggie adventure to go up to the back field.  The first order of their business is to check the culvert pipe for any possible rodents and go bark at Soda Pop.  Since Soda sneaks in the yard to eat my roses, I let them bark.  After Hugo has been situated, we walk the fence line.  I gather stray branches and make sure the fence is still secure while the three girls run and sniff out all the same places. The most interesting spot is where Chloe once apprehended a mole, and that spot must always be checked, for who knows? the mole's family may be there.  After the we've finished our walk and are ready to shut the back gate, they must all go take their drinks at the water trough where I keep an overflow bucket for the cats.  Oh, how they love this daily routine and how I love watching them.  Darby especially loves the cold weather and she romps and runs and throws out her front paws beautifully.  She is a gorgeous mover.  And always she is looking for something to play fetch with.  Chloe gallumps along like the huge dog she is, reminding me of a draft horse at play.  Ladybug is easily distracted by any small thing, and when she realizes she must catch up, runs so fast that I don't know how her feet are hitting the ground.  As we make our walk, it seems to me to be a Three Dog Day.  Quite a nice spot in the day.  Someday, if I can get them all to stay still together, I'll post a photo.  Til then, the winter scene will have to do.