Restoration

We all know what comes of caterpillars.

There’s a wondrous transformational process that births a beautiful butterfly that flits and flies and feeds on fluids to fertilize.

In the background we have our own metamorphosis.

We jokingly call it my husband’s masterpiece.

On this day last year something old was made new.

Restoration of it was a difficult process.  This project began with a foundation that was weak and cracked from years of neglect.  Not intentional neglect.  But, unfortunate circumstances kept away necessary attention. 

Time can take its toll as time can do and restoration needs to occur to make old things new.

We brought in all that we thought essential to rectify our problem, but instead the foundation proved to be too weak to carry the weight of it all.  In the process, it actually collapsed and a rescue operation ensued.  The problem area was excavated with stronger resources and a solid foundation had to be laid before anything else could be done. The surrounding area still needed work, too. 

Uncontrollable elements might make us wonder if restoration might ever occur.

Truth is, this surface was never perfectly created for the game that we often tried to play with its flawed dimensions.  We never could play as it was intended without changing the rules of that game.

But, you know what?

Restoration can establish a more perfect play.

Jesus does some teaching about building on a solid foundation.  He says, “Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise like a person who builds a house on solid rock. If not, it will fall with a mighty crash.”

What a metamorphosis that occurs with God!

It’s no joke.

We are His masterpiece.

“He has created us anew in Christ Jesus so that we can do the good things He planned for us long ago.”

What a wondrous transformation restoration can be.

Ephesians 2:10

Matthew 7:24

Mrs. Chas E. Cowman

Streams in the Desert.

I bought this book that Cowman Publications published years ago.  Years!  They’ve long been acquired by HarperCollins.

This is my new daily devotional.

It opens with a personal word from the author, “Mrs. Charles E. Cowman”.  How sweet.  I hadn’t seen a signature like that since my mom signed the back of my report cards in elementary school, Mrs. Thomas A McConnell.  It brought to mind a nostalgic time.  A tiny detail of my history.  Maybe of yours.

I look on the front cover which has printed instead L.B. Cowman as the author.  Curious, I go to the publisher’s page and find a disclaimer that this was written about a 100 years ago in a culturally different time.  In this edition, most of the language remains true to the original text.  However…(ahh…here it comes…) “some of the original terms and content have been edited out of respect for all people and cultures.”

Is “the author’s name” the content being edited out of respect?

I sought out to find an original edition from 1925 with its cover and its contents not edited out of respect for all people and cultures. Sure enough the earlier edition identifies its author Mrs. Chas. E. Cowman on the front cover, as does the publisher’s page, as does her introduction.  There’s no L.B.

It begs to question the respect due Mrs. Charles E. Cowman who had a ministry that was “unhindered by national, political, or geographic boundaries “ and represented a “cross section of the world”.  Her ministry was worldwide.  “From huts in remote corners of the world to elegantly furnished houses, “ it was stated.

So, what liberties does one take to remove original terms and content of 1925 and with it the respect for the original person, the authentic writing, and natural work?

By what and whose definition of respect edits out terms and content original to a culture?  It’s a rhetorical question.  But, if an author identifies herself as Mrs. Charles E. Cowman in the days of 1925, can we not accept that fact, even in respect of it, in our present day?

Upon marriage, I’m sure these childhood sweethearts were even pronounced as “Mr. and Mrs. Charles E. Cowman”.  Even the most recent weddings I’ve attended made such declarations.  So, what if this was her identity?  This whole book is in fact thoughts, quotations, spiritual inspiration which helped to sustain Mrs. Charles E. Cowman, particularly the years she nursed her husband, Charles E. Cowman, while he was dying.

What if the only honorable way she chose to author a book was to identify herself in a way that represented, “one with him.”

That’s what a marriage is.  Two become one.  That’s not a cultural statement.  It’s a biblical one.  It’s a beautiful one.

I mean. Good grief, Scotch Tape was invented in 1925.  That stuck!

Signed,

Mrs. Timothy W. Forrest

Mark 10:6-9

Sarah Young

Sarah Young died.

I didn’t know her.

She authored Jesus Calling, the first devotional I think I ever bought.

She prayed for her readers.  So, she prayed for me. She probably prayed that her readers would experience God because that’s what I did. She probably prayed that God would use her devotional to impact the personal lives of her readers because that’s what it also did.

I knew her not, but she’s had such a personal touch on my life.

I recall a time not wanting nor believing that devotionals were anything but arbitrary and unordinary.  This devotional caught my morning attention.  I would haphazardly read it a day here or a day there and each time it touched me in a personal and what I thought at the time was a coincidental way before later learning there are God-intended ways.

Haphazard turned to daily-deliberate-devotionals.  At some half-way point, I stopped to think; who writes this Jesus Calling anyway?  Flipping to the front, I thought I would find a recognizable Christian author named.  I didn’t.  It was a name I never heard.  Sarah Young.  Who’s Sarah Young?

I took the time to flip back and read the introduction.  I was happy there was one to tell me more.

I was reading this at the same time as my own retirement.  A new routine for myself was being established.  I was at the beginning of where God had me scheduled for what I didn’t yet know.  With that tucked away in the back of my mind, I was eagerly waiting for the big reveal.  As I read her introduction, it mirrored a lot of what I was personally experiencing - so much so that I was afraid to read the next line thinking I would find out too soon.

She shared how experiences were seemingly uncharacteristic of her nature. Experiences with Jesus and her own converted heart.  Experiences that couldn’t be explained in other ways.  The experiences she lived were experiences that I was living.  I was having a spiritual introduction to a Jesus I’d heard about and always believed in, but only knew intellectually - not actually.

Our common life themes continued: adjusting to a very unstructured time of life from fulfilling work as a counselor, embarking on a spiritual quest, delving into a devotional, spending time alone with God with quiet, uninterrupted practices. Seeking God in earnest with time too brief.

Her days were my days.

Who is this that speaks of these uncertainties that are mine and the indefinite stretches of waiting periods, unknown dates, and unsought out experiences?

I was so desperately looking for others who might have encountered what was so new to me that I tried to duplicate what she was reading to try and catch the same breath of air.  Beyond Ourselves.  God Calling.  Is this where I might discover what I don’t yet know?

There was an eternal perspective to this new beginning in the second half of my life.

“He speaks to those who listen,”  I trust.

I came to the end of her introduction.  Her closing.

“May He bless you with His presence and peace in ever-increasing measure.”

Hmmm…

That must be what she prayed.

Because He did.

Because He does.

Enjoy the peace in His Presence, Sarah Young.  I imagine it’s all you longed for.  May your prayers remain present and active in your readers’ lives.

With much gratitude,

A reader

John 10:27

Asbury

The wind blew and blew.

A year ago, we were swept away to Asbury.

My husband and I were presented with an opportunity to volunteer at the college campus where an assemblage of people were waiting hours and hours to get in a small chapel at Hughes Auditorium.

Not knowing how or where they’d need our help, I was thrilled to find us being escorted inside the chapel. I’d heard of activity there for days.  We were witness to a beautiful orchestration of something Jesus was doing. I knew throngs of people outside were waiting plus hours to be inside.  There was word of some sleeping all night in line to do so.  We were ushered to a mighty chorus of song.  This holy chapel was full of various denominations of all ages and a rainbow of nationalities. There were all manner of expressions singing in unison to one Holy God.

We all knew the words whether expressed in solemn respect or holy hands lifted. Some knelt, others even prostrate on the floor.  Each one took all the time they needed in that space while thousands were respectfully waiting outside to do the same.  Multitudes of people chose to come before this place where hearts yearned to be in worship. They positioned themselves where the Sovereignty of God, the supremacy of His Word and Jesus Christ was being lifted up name above all names in mass agreement in a tiny pocket of Wiltmore, Kentucky.

Some called it a Revival.

Trying to figure it out myself, what I know to be true is that one sweet girl walked down the aisle and stopped me to ask if there was a prayer team up front, which I wasn’t certain of but felt sure there had to be.  I walked with her to find an individual in that role.  I stayed with her as someone prayed over her, as did I.  What I learned from her story is that she didn’t know why she was here.  She didn’t know what kept drawing her back because she had already been here days ago.  She confessed to having walked away and returned with a repentant heart to be reconciled with God.

She didn’t say these words, but if that’s the definition of Revival - that’s what she was there to do.  A chapel of decisions were being made to get right with God.  There was no preaching. There was no baptismal pool.  There were, as best as I could tell, baptisms of Spirit. Nothing else could explain this outpouring of the Holy Spirit to a non-denominational campus of believers.

More than half of the people stood to represent coming here from outside of Kentucky.  More than half of the people stood to represent being younger than 25.  There was a collective yearning to be or see where God seems to have laid a stake.  People inside and outside were believing in it and honoring it wherever it was that God was choosing to be exalted.

The Lord was leading the way and everybody was trying to get out of it.

Asbury did that so beautifully.

And the wind blew and blew.

It felt like the breath of Heaven.

This is the word.  I believe it.

1 Corin 1:10-17; 2:4-5

Ezekiel 18:31-32

John 3:8