Payoff for a Pack Rat

I know I am a pack rat.

It's a pain during moves and, in between, I take a lot of teasing about hanging on to everything but the kitchen sink.

And it doesn't help that I fell in love with scrapbooking -- which makes it even harder to throw away a scrap of memorabilia. You never know when that nametag, that little piece of paper, that ticket stub would be just the perfect accent for a scrapbook page. When I am going to have time to do all these scrapbooks in my head is still a mystery to me. But, if I get the time, I have the pictures and memorabilia.

I'll admit that I have times of doubt about the wisdom of hanging onto all these things.

Tonight is a good example.

With the gift of a snow day, I decided to unpack one of the boxes which got unloaded in my move, but not unpacked--the tedious part of getting completely settled. And as I sorted through pens and pencils and sticky note pads and bookmarks, I'll confess that I thought, "What is wrong with me? Why don't I just dump this box?" I am so glad I didn't.

For there, beneath a lot of stuff that could have been dumped with no great loss was a treasure: the New Testament that my father received when he was ordained. On the right hand side of the Bible, he has written that he was ordained a deacon "at the 10:30 a.m. Sunday morning September 22, 1040 by Bishop William T. Watkins at Hopkinsville, Kentucky -- the 100th session of the Lousiville Conference." And there, on the left hand cover of the Bible, in his distinctive handwriting, my Daddy had written: "I am, first of all, not a scientist but, first of all and last of all, a man redeemed by our Lord and living a life of unspeakable reality in Him." (Curtis).

That was the quote written by Daddy at the beginning of his ministry and, 66 years later, these words still describe him. This New Testament and Psalms is marked up on virtually every page--some underline in red pencil, some in blue, some in green, some in black. The book is obviously well used. And well-lived.

Oh, I am SO glad I didn't just take that box to the garbage! I would have thrown away a treasure and never known it. I don't remember having this testament. I don't remember when Daddy gave it to me...probably when I was working on his heritage scrapbooks.

I don't think we ought to be consumed by our things. But I think we ought to be careful about what we throw out. And we can be thankful for the things that give us a testimony to faithful living. Tonight I found a treasure.

I know better than to say that my grandson Tyler is the cutest little boy on the planet. That's what I believe. But I know better than to say it that way. Grandparents everywhere would object. So let me just say that Tyler is one of the cutest little boys ever.
And he's not only knock-your-socks-off cute. He's smart and funny and every time we are together, I think my heart is absolutely going to break with joy.
The boys came to see me Saturday and we had such a good time! They came running out of the car, tearing through the house looking for all their familiar things and discovering the new things I have waiting for them. This was their first visit here since Christmas Day. As those little boys ran from room to room, the house came to life. Energy and exuberance was everywhere.
The Christmas decorations had been put up and that was the first thing Tyler noticed. Now, the holiday decorations for the boys room don't go upstairs in the attic. There's a wide shelf in the boys' big closet. That's where the holiday decorations go. And we take down the decorations with the seasons.
Tyler noticed right away that baby Jesus was on the shelf. And he did not like that one little bit. In my defense, baby Jesus was carefully put up with the manager and all the manger scene figures. But Tyler said, "NO! I want Baby Jesus down here! Here with me, Grammy, here with me!"
He was quite insistent. Jesus should not be on the shelf. He needed Jesus to be with him.
Well, of course, I got Jesus down off the shelf.
And, after Tyler went home, I didn't have the heart to put Jesus back on the shelf. He got me to thinking about how easy it is for us to put Jesus away. It's not that we don't believe in Jesus or that we renounce him...but it is too easy to put him on the shelf. Too easy for life to keep on going with Jesus on the shelf.
Now that Christmas is a month past, where is Jesus in our lives? Packed away on the shelf?

Thinking Back...

I celebrate that we officially celebrate the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I am glad to see streets named in his honor in cities all across the country. Schools and parks and projects carry his name.

People who have been born since Dr. King's death could easily look around and get the idea that Dr. King was a popular, well-received, beloved figure in American history. Those of us who were living when Dr. King was alive know better. We remember how much he was villified, constantly attacked and denounced. We remember that he was called a trouble-maker--by both black and white people. We remember that he was called a radical and unpatriotic and a communist. We remember that he was reviled and rejected. No matter how many streets and schools are named after him, no matter that a national holiday has been named for him, nobody who was alive when Dr. King was living would think that Dr. King rode a great tide of acceptance and popularity. All this adulation has largely come since his death.

When I look back across the decades, I know I am not the only one who is grateful for the progress against prejudice. I look back and am appalled at the segregationist world that existed in the United States -- a country based on freedom and democracy--a country so often called a "Christian nation". And our reactions to the patently unfair, unchristian and sometimes inhumane system of inequality were denial, complacency and even defensiveness. It is mind-boggling to me the prejudice that we tolerated.

As we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday this year, I wonder if the best honor to him would be to look at the vehement prejudices that we tolerate today. Who do we denounce? What is the area that arouses our deepest prejudices?

Someone asked me recently how to distinguish between principles and prejudices. It's a question that deserves careful, prayerful consideration from every Christian. Many citizens and churchmen decried Dr. King based on appeals to Christian principle. Appeals to the Bible have been used to justify all kinds of prejudice and unchristlike behavior. Claiming that a position is Christian alone does not tell the truth about whether a position is Christin or not.

I believe there is a sure-fire distinction for anyone who is searching for difference between prejudice and principle. You can tell if there is prejudice in your appeal to principle if your words and actions violate the Christian foundation of love for one another. Whenever your principles cause you to mistreat others or to support the mistreatment of others, that's a sure sign of prejudice, not principle. People who are following Christian principles will live by the Golden Rule and Great Commandment. People who make an appeal to Christian principle but, in their actions, ridicule, humiliate or support mistreatment against others are operating out of prejudice no matter how many Bible verses they quote.

I grew up in Kentucky in the era when legendary UK coach Adoph Rupp refused to have a black player on the team. I grew up in a church that was segregated and black United Methodist churches belonged to different conferences in a separate, though overlapping jurisdiction. I grew up in a world where racial prejudice set the social norms and all was defended in the name of Christian principles. I am appalled at prejudice past and present--and horrified by the ways that prejudice has been buttressed by appeals with the label "Christian".

Before the MLKing holiday this year gets away from us, let us look at the deeply entrenched, emotional prejudices that still plague our nation and compromise our Christian witness. Let's have the courage to base our lives on principle -- not matter how unpopular that is with the present culture. Every Martin Luther King celebration should remind us that popularity with our prejudice-prone culture is not the path to lasting, Christlike influence.

Morning's miracle...

I have developed a special joy in a new routine to begin the day...watching the miracle of sunrise. I get up before the sun rises and sit in my reading chair looking out into my back yard. And, in the still darkness, a miracle gently takes place right before my eyes. At first, the light is almost imperceptible. But, slowly, it is all-encompassing. Whether the temperature is cold or hot, whether it is snow or sun, whether I am tired or rested, whether the day is reasonably or overwhelmingly full, God's morning miracle takes place.
And the watching the darkness turn to light is a daily experience of renewed hope...remembering that when all other light has been snuffed out by all manner of cruelty and meanness and selfishness and ego, Jesus is the light of the world AND the darkness has never overcome it. No matter how deep the darkness gets, the light comes every morning.
And the gift of light comes without my doing a thing to make it happen--a blessed reminder.
Just as surely, God is at work in my day.
It's easy to sleep through the sunrise and take light for granted. But that is missing the chance to see a miracle unfold. And, maybe if I begin with the dawning day's miracle, I will be more likely to see the other ways that God is at work throughout the day turning and changing and dependably working for good in life's darkness.

Finally! I got to share the secret!

So much to look forward to at Christmas!

Since May 16, I have been ready for Christmas.

No, I didn't have the house decorated or the Christmas letters sent (as a matter of fact, I still haven't mailed my Christmas cards and letters). But I had the gifts. And, since that day, I have had to keep a wonderful secret.

On May 16, I was invited to speak for the opening of the Pottery Festival sponsored by Wesley Chapel United Methodist Church. The church cemetery is full of the graves of famous Catawba Valley potters and the annual pottery festival is a great celebration. I not only enjoyed opening the day with a devotional. I loved shopping at the displays.

One potter had especially exquisite work. Trudy Hunike from Charlotte had an amazing display and there was one plate that was especially beautiful. When I looked on the back of the plate, it said, "My Mother's Lace". Since my mother did all kinds of handwork, I asked the potter what the inscription meant: My mother's lace. She told me that her mother had been very crafty and one day, she used one of her mother's crocheted pieces to form the pattern on the plate. It was lovely...and more than a lovely pottery piece. It was a memory.

So I laid down her plate and asked her if she would make plates for my family with some of my mother's handwork. She said she would be glad to try. From that moment on, I knew I was going to have amazing, precious gifts for everyone in my family. And I also knew I had a big challenge to keep the secret until Christmas. I have a hard time keeping things quiet--especially when it comes to good news.

Using a hand-tatted doilie and a crocheted placemat, Trudy made the most beautiful plates that I gave my family. Each piece said, "Rosalie's Lace" on the back. And, as soon as I picked up all the pieces, keeping quiet was even harder.

So, God bless them, I told all my churches about it this fall. They didn't care, of course, what I was giving my family for Christmas. But I couldn't tell my family and I was preaching in churches every weeknight and 3 times on Sundays during the Charge Conference season. They were very gracious about giving me an outlet.

At our Christmas gatherings, my family loved the gifts every bit as much as I had dreamed they would. I was the queen of gifts (not to be confused with the centers of attention -- an uncontested distinction belonging to our 5 little boys ages 5 and under!). The great thing about the gifts is that they took the imprint from my mother's loving hand and created something beautiful -- but something that also reminded us of her life and her love for us. This Christmas I had the chance to combine what I love most: giving a gift AND making a memory.