tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49165661254817011742024-03-19T02:30:21.569-07:00livingbetweentheditchesBetty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-90763847008724470862014-12-16T07:59:00.001-08:002014-12-16T07:59:22.053-08:00How Do You See Him?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1MGuB5P6Lf831CfKiS8i-HMI1mIQDt0lQzuqnmPAWafIX41V-sPXoG266jYGSf_gSXdQ0sJsMbQi4nlyd0TZc3Jn7Zsij_4rNQmhUSm2vVPXFfOHcfq4kM0mPTgfucXYEzW3N5zh_9WI/s1600/photo-19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1MGuB5P6Lf831CfKiS8i-HMI1mIQDt0lQzuqnmPAWafIX41V-sPXoG266jYGSf_gSXdQ0sJsMbQi4nlyd0TZc3Jn7Zsij_4rNQmhUSm2vVPXFfOHcfq4kM0mPTgfucXYEzW3N5zh_9WI/s200/photo-19.JPG" /></a></div>Having been through the “Is Santa Claus real?” phase of my children’s lives, I hadn’t really thought much about the original St. Nick until recently. A new friend gave me a ceramic St. Nicholas, about two feet tall, wearing a red robe with white trim. He now sits on a table as you enter my brightly decorated living room. <br />
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So, what’s so newsworthy about this gift? First, the giver crafted him by hand. That’s always special. Second, it was a complete surprise. Third … perhaps a bit of explanation.<br />
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I’m a very light-skinned white woman with blue eyes. I live in a southern state where blacks and whites view each other with suspicion—especially in these last few racially charged weeks. My very brown-skinned St. Nick is a treasure from a black woman I have known about a month.<br />
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Considering our short friendship, how did we overcome the barriers that would normally separate us from each other?<br />
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We met as peers, found common interests, laughed at silly stuff, recommended favorite books, shared our visions of a preferred future, and formed a lifelong friendship. Sometimes we talked about race and the ridiculous notion that skin color would have any effect on our opinion of each other.<br />
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What does this story have to do with the Christmas message? St. Nicholas, the original Santa Claus, may briefly reign on Christmas Eve, but on Christmas Day Jesus Christ reigns as the infant King. He came to earth as a Middle Eastern Jewish male. Color, race, gender—none of these keep me from calling Him Lord.<br />
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Jesus—God incarnate—was not lily white.<br />
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“Some children see him<br />
Dark as they<br />
Sweet Mary's son<br />
To whom we pray<br />
Some children see him<br />
Dark as they<br />
And, ah<br />
They love him, too<br />
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“The children<br />
In each diff'rent place<br />
Will see<br />
The baby Jesus' face<br />
Like theirs<br />
But bright<br />
With heav'nly grace<br />
And filled<br />
With holy light<br />
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“O lay aside<br />
Each earthly thing<br />
And with thy heart<br />
As offering<br />
Come worship now<br />
The infant king<br />
'Tis love<br />
That's born tonight.”<br />
—from the song “Some Children See Him”<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-44600700969221400842014-10-30T19:55:00.000-07:002014-10-30T19:55:42.795-07:00Remembering One Silly Ghost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHe97rbKOF57wROkhJlUHIg9v239JCyrltTg-uuuHCtOCMyJDEzG0Bd57ajMc8CB-zwvp07hyDvKWW5uI5Qxh-TL4tGuC9jFkJUc2OtDP7fzZawx6fuiHNk-XoRz2jMZpOcxlAP6b3-Uw/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHe97rbKOF57wROkhJlUHIg9v239JCyrltTg-uuuHCtOCMyJDEzG0Bd57ajMc8CB-zwvp07hyDvKWW5uI5Qxh-TL4tGuC9jFkJUc2OtDP7fzZawx6fuiHNk-XoRz2jMZpOcxlAP6b3-Uw/s320/unnamed.jpg" /></a></div>Remember when Halloween treats were mostly homemade goodies? If not, then you’re not old enough to salivate over candy apples, sugar cookies with orange icing and licorice eyes and mouths, or dozens of kinds of brownies nestled snuggly in your brown paper bag decorated by hand with crayons and/or construction paper. And our ghost of choice was Casper, the friendliest of all.<br />
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All of that changed when Houston, Texas, became the scene of the horrific murder of a child poisoned by Halloween candy. Eventually, his father was prosecuted for the crime, but the damage was done. Parents became fearful of their children being given tainted candy. Now everything is individually wrapped and mostly awarded to kids in malls or other tightly controlled environments.<br />
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Today I will go to see my grandchildren in their costumed glory, lucky enough to live in a neighborhood full of families known and trusted by their parents. They will “trick or treat” the old-fashioned way, going house to house with their Dad while Mom stays behind to deliver her wrapped store-bought offerings to kids she knows. Almost—but not quite—like days of yore.<br />
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One Halloween I’ll never forget. My parents had moved to a house with a fireplace (an extravagant feature). Dad—always one to play a prank—climbed up on the roof and hid behind the chimney, where he donned a white sheet. As one or more children started up the walk to our house, Dad jumped out from the chimney and yelled, “Boo.” As you might guess, none of them stayed around long enough to check out the candy!<br />
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So tonight, make a memory, no matter your choice of activities. And thank you, Charles Graham, for your silly antics that still make me laugh.<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-788527822139291182014-08-26T16:00:00.000-07:002014-08-26T16:00:03.604-07:00We're All "Keepers at Home"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKQKsQrTjeCf5rJdX-KAxruU6BHEYQEzoYjBx-HQA-ux8J0GvEMxM0H2dgvWE-bLLYNWlbz1Z8F0ySnsdCvvS7p774J2aLVvlRKWlYJwUNURn-YNsFP5ZrrxU5VNCmAyxl9pOQkr7EoI/s1600/housecleaningID-100159660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKQKsQrTjeCf5rJdX-KAxruU6BHEYQEzoYjBx-HQA-ux8J0GvEMxM0H2dgvWE-bLLYNWlbz1Z8F0ySnsdCvvS7p774J2aLVvlRKWlYJwUNURn-YNsFP5ZrrxU5VNCmAyxl9pOQkr7EoI/s200/housecleaningID-100159660.jpg" /></a></div>Now that I am retired–having had a “day job” throughout my married life—I’ve found housekeeping can consume most of my time, if I let it. Tasks that might have gone days (OK, weeks) in the past now haunt me as I pass them multiple times in a day. Yes, I’m a “neat freak,” whose penchant for everything in its place can drive me crazy.<br />
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But housekeeping is more than a certain standard of cleanliness. According to Titus 2:4-5, it’s in the category with godly virtues such as love, purity, and kindness. When he wrote, “To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home …” (v. 5), perhaps Titus recognized that a “keeper” is one who guards, protects, and takes care of something of value. For example, a doorman watches and approves all that passes through the door for which he is responsible.<br />
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In her book, <i>Living in a Zoo,</i> Brenda Lancaster writes to the keepers of the home, “You are to watch for anything that will be harmful to the inhabitants who dwell there,” making sure “that only the godly and upright things are allowed to enter your gates!”<br />
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Keepers of the home—and many guys stand guard duty, as well—are careful to protect their homes from intruders that may enter through the TV, Internet, books, and magazines. If you wouldn’t let an evil person through your doors, don’t let him or her in through wires and cables. Otherwise, we demonstrate way too much confidence in our own abilities to overcome temptations. And we “tempt God” as we demand that He rescue us from the pitfalls of perusing sinful living. If you wouldn’t want someone else to see or read it, don’t excuse yourself.<br />
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Guard your home—not just in front of the children or grandchildren—but as a way to demonstrate “sensible, pure, workers at home (NASB).”<br />
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Image courtesy of Iamnee at FreeDigitalPhotos.net <br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0Charlotte, NC United States33.431441335575293 -81.91406257.9094068355752931 -123.2226565 58.95347583557529 -40.6054685tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-9937465899035066652014-07-16T12:19:00.000-07:002014-07-16T12:19:17.522-07:00Dark, Darker, Darkest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbh_IqPa1oIi1pZIy7IsvaGhnZ0dkJzHnoByEFlFIrEa1KqPQlAqzZFamDWmLS7DFtyRPOAt0-2AosXOFu_4lkjqnnWM3pfPcnh6QEtXKbdm49UwL1XWA3S8z8bNF8b8pp2f102PxySc/s1600/photo_29538_20131111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWbh_IqPa1oIi1pZIy7IsvaGhnZ0dkJzHnoByEFlFIrEa1KqPQlAqzZFamDWmLS7DFtyRPOAt0-2AosXOFu_4lkjqnnWM3pfPcnh6QEtXKbdm49UwL1XWA3S8z8bNF8b8pp2f102PxySc/s200/photo_29538_20131111.jpg" /></a></div>The pastor at the church we're attending is preaching from Jesus'"I Am" statements in the Book of John. Sunday was "I am the light of the world." If Pastor Jason doesn't mind my putting words in his mouth, he highlighted several truths I'd like to explore with you.<br />
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First, light overcomes all darkness. In perfect darkness, even the light of a candle can be seen miles away. So distance from the light source gradually dims the light until utter darkness results. My master bedroom doesn't have an overhead light. I have to go several feet to reach a table lamp. Recently I stepped on one of my dog Lily's squeaky toys before I got to the table. Now that will get your attention!<br />
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Spiritually, when we move away from the Source of all Light, darkness will ultimately consume us. The Creator of the sun and the moon and the stars is also the initiator of the "light" in our lives. Isaiah prophesied that the Jewish people living in darkness would someday see a great light, the light of the world, fulfilled in Jesus Christ (Isaiah 60:1-3). We cause our own spiritual darkness when we choose to live "a distance" from the Light.<br />
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Second, we darken the Light by focusing on the wrong things and making ourselves the judges of what are the right things. God has been pretty clear about what pleases Him. See 1 Samuel 15:22, for an example. Using God's Word as a weapon against others presumes God's judgment on their sins as being greater than His judgment on our sins.<br />
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Third, and even darker, is establishing structures that degrade other humans. Dehumanizing anyone diminishes the truth of his or her being made in the image of God. Setting ourselves up as "more worthy" than another flies in the face of Jesus' admonition to serve Him by serving "the least of these" (Matt. 25:45).<br />
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If we "walk in the light" (1 John 1:7), we have fellowship with one another. Humm ... maybe a little more Light would dispel a little more darkness that separates believers in today's world.Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-17416743441198075582014-04-15T15:48:00.000-07:002014-04-15T15:48:52.662-07:00From King to King—All in One Week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm8-UUGodrLaST8gVXAk8Fxf7h3mbDEUsfrxDQ7VcuGkObLp7bgMpLrGTYxFLCP9trZWm-Ic7dna9wVF19P-GHF96MtWjdc0-vA3gztmp4KWfKQ8xmSJkMVl1L-i5FyvgP9vtn0Epb58/s1600/cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm8-UUGodrLaST8gVXAk8Fxf7h3mbDEUsfrxDQ7VcuGkObLp7bgMpLrGTYxFLCP9trZWm-Ic7dna9wVF19P-GHF96MtWjdc0-vA3gztmp4KWfKQ8xmSJkMVl1L-i5FyvgP9vtn0Epb58/s200/cross.jpg" /></a></div>Palm Sunday reminded me that Holy Week began with “”Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!’” (Luke 19:38) and ended with Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords. What a sad thought that because of my sin He had to endure the agony of the cross in between.<br />
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He also had to endure the agony of betrayal. Strangely, the disciples genuinely asked Jesus, “Lord, is it I?”—as though any of them could be the betrayer. Really? I mean, really? Wouldn’t Andrew or James or Matthew know his own heart well enough to say, “No way”? And yet, I have betrayed His Lordship in word, thought, and deed. <br />
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Celebrating the Lord’s Supper was probably the disciples’ most intimate time with Jesus; yet in the following hours, all but John would sin against Him, including Peter. I too have sinned in taking the Lord Supper in an unworthy manner (1 Cor. 11:27-28).<br />
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The whole world grieved the injustice of Jesus’ death. The earth will continue to grieve until the wrong is righted when Jesus comes again with a new earth, free from sin and suffering—“when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay” (Rom. 8:21, NLT).<br />
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Before we move from the crucifixion to the resurrection and the new earth, let’s pause to remember Jesus’ purpose in literally dying—not just playing dead. His blood was shed, his body tortured, to pay the price for our sins. For without the shedding of blood, forgiveness was not possible (Heb. 9:22).<br />
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And He chose to die, an act of mercy and grace in God’s eternal plan of redemption. Now Christ is risen! In the words of our church’s choral Easter music, “Open your heart to the music of grace.” <br />
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“But when the kindness and the love of God our Savior toward man appeared, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us” (Titus 3:4-5, NKJV). <br />
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From King to King, all in one week. So what changed? An eternity for each of us who call Jesus Lord!<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-72425881774240517122014-03-03T14:23:00.000-08:002014-03-03T14:23:02.957-08:00A Safe Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6spWr6lnec99kT9a-prOxF1-hxldYIs9vs5p1yCYaJBeIFoPGwpWW8HA_3VgPJUv7QKzW5sYdGnZvE94YDebf-By2ngiEGX7pMtC7ZqvFA7D0e0zDRyIIHxJN2roLJm510jMpdcd4GIQ/s1600/stock-photo-a-car-driving-on-a-motorway-at-high-speeds-overtaking-other-cars-137596751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6spWr6lnec99kT9a-prOxF1-hxldYIs9vs5p1yCYaJBeIFoPGwpWW8HA_3VgPJUv7QKzW5sYdGnZvE94YDebf-By2ngiEGX7pMtC7ZqvFA7D0e0zDRyIIHxJN2roLJm510jMpdcd4GIQ/s200/stock-photo-a-car-driving-on-a-motorway-at-high-speeds-overtaking-other-cars-137596751.jpg" /></a></div>"When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by."Exodus 33:22<br />
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Recently my husband Sim and I were on our way to church dinner one Wednesday evening. I was supposed to “man” a display booth outside of fellowship hall. Our plan was for Sim to eat, then relieve me at the booth, and I would eat.<br />
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All’s well that goes well, right? Our car rounded a curve on the interstate and WHOP! Sim veered to the left but couldn’t avoid hitting a piece of metal in our lane. Not able to change lanes due to the traffic, he really had no choice but to run over the object.<br />
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Whatever it was got stuck under the car beneath the driver’s side. The left front tire would no longer turn, and we skidded to a stop just inches off the stripe at the edge of the road.<br />
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On the passenger’s side (that would be me), cars whizzed around the curve, having no warning that there we sat. On the driver’s side, a sixteen-foot wall of rock kept us from moving the car any further off the highway. Did I mention a similar rock wall was on the other side of the three lanes of traffic?<br />
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Sim yelled for me to get out of the car. What? Climb over the console in the middle of the front seat? Sheer terror helps one to overcome obstacles! Once outside, we had no protection. If a car rounded the corner with a distracted driver, we’d be squashed like the proverbial bug.<br />
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But Sim led me to a literal cleft in the rock, where we huddled until two road assistance vehicles appeared behind our car. One driver put up lane closure signs while the other jacked up the car and retrieved the metal object. “Drive off,” he shouted as he hurried back to his van. Did I mention the temperature was in the 20s?<br />
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We couldn’t wait to share with our Christian friends that God had provided a cleft in a rock and hidden us there in His hands. Moses found a similar cleft provided by the same God on Mt. Sinai. Moses feared for his life, lest he see the face of God as He passed by him. None of us can endure a complete dose of God’s glory!<br />
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The next time you need a safe place, hold out your hands to the one who knows where all the “clefts” are located in your stone walls.<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-47114657402934706082014-01-27T13:41:00.000-08:002014-01-27T13:41:00.977-08:00To Mothers of Miscarriage and Stillbirth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJPaACOQnhvPWIH0ccAlFAB1BKUzvGbyllUOc2MZJ1hQhyZ9csbFLKQgW2ufNDdojJgn0yNVAMcrduBILv_Pu_AB4153SaNFAzo9zJZcJWfqDnsRJOUpaXUaCNa3kT9TT2o7B7PUx_KE/s1600/MP900448719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJPaACOQnhvPWIH0ccAlFAB1BKUzvGbyllUOc2MZJ1hQhyZ9csbFLKQgW2ufNDdojJgn0yNVAMcrduBILv_Pu_AB4153SaNFAzo9zJZcJWfqDnsRJOUpaXUaCNa3kT9TT2o7B7PUx_KE/s200/MP900448719.jpg" /></a></div>A soon to be released movie, based on the book <i>Heaven is for Real</i> by Todd Burpo, is the remarkable story of a little boy who died and went to heaven—briefly. God sent him back to his family with an amazing story to tell.<br />
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This story is particularly griping to me because in heaven Colton meets a sister he never knew, a sibling his parents had never told him about. His mother had miscarried early enough in the pregnancy that they never knew her gender until Colton told them.<br />
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This incident encourages me because I’m reassured that my stillborn daughter is happy and whole in heaven, totally loved by her heavenly Father, and awaiting her parents and siblings in eager anticipation.<br />
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I am fortunate to have a grave and a marker to prove that Shera Lynn Hassler was stillborn on April 18, 1976. Most parents of miscarriage and stillbirth have nothing but painful memories. No visible reminders assure them that a little one lived for a few weeks or months <i>in utero</i>.<br />
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Parents are left to grieve pretty much on their own. Often family or friends don’t take the loss seriously because to them the baby was never real, almost as though he or she were an illusion. Not so to the mother whose pregnancy test was positive, who felt the nausea or the faint little flutterings beneath her belt.<br />
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This child of love is so real, will always be real, will always be missed. Even with the assurance of a heavenly reunion, the hole remains, unfilled by another subsequent child or children. This is as it should be. A child is irreplaceable.<br />
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I wrote this poem last week when I learned of a women who suffered several miscarriages. I hope it will convey to other mothers God’s perfect gift of Hope.<br />
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<i>Little tiny feet and hands that will not run and play,<br />
Trees unclimbed, blocks unstacked, a cheek unkissed today.<br />
But in my dreams I see you still and frame your tender face.<br />
And at my table, settings laid, I save you, dear, a place.<br />
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I know you’re just a blink away, a prayer, a loving thought.<br />
In time I’ll join you up above, my home already bought.<br />
I’ll praise and sing and joyfully tell to all both near and far,<br />
Not who you were or could have been but who you really are.<br />
</i><br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-5244953590929065102013-12-19T17:10:00.001-08:002013-12-19T17:10:23.095-08:00Ponder the Wonder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cS-bvq67tS1sAR8HH5WnanvqONEbrljlJ2gGPG-pGiHBacDDKw_AW1jBDvucl1fPibwBcudxCiS7Sw-XQm-SKK2btueaMKmJhMO8IiJqJZljFf9KP67MSojBrRTFLQudLzxfy8F4_po/s1600/noname+copy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cS-bvq67tS1sAR8HH5WnanvqONEbrljlJ2gGPG-pGiHBacDDKw_AW1jBDvucl1fPibwBcudxCiS7Sw-XQm-SKK2btueaMKmJhMO8IiJqJZljFf9KP67MSojBrRTFLQudLzxfy8F4_po/s320/noname+copy.gif" /></a></div>“Mary pondered all these things in her heart.” Luke 2:19, 2:51<br />
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Twice in the Book of Luke we’re told Mary pondered. <br />
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Both occurrences followed amazing, wondrous events—certainly worthy of intense mental scrutiny. But why did Luke record this observation about Mary not once, but twice? Seemingly, he wanted us to know Mary was a deep thinker, one given to introspection and analysis.<br />
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If we didn’t know this about Mary, we might think she was on autopilot when she accepted the angel’s revelation about the miraculous birth. No, she asked questions and considered the implications. Read Luke 1:34-38. <br />
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Afterward, she journeyed to visit Elizabeth and had many months to consider the approaching birth. I’m certain she often pondered the angel’s message, Joseph’s reaction, the townspeople’s gossip, and her engagement. <br />
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In Luke 2:19, following Jesus’ birth, Mary pondered the visit of the shepherds— God’s way of assuring her that this baby conceived by the Holy Spirit was indeed His Son, the promised Messiah. After all, angelic beings had made the announcement.<br />
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Then, in Luke 2:51, after Jesus had astonished the temple rabbis at age 12, Mary pondered once more her eyewitness seat to history. I feel sure Mary continued to ponder throughout His earthly ministry and as she stood before the cross and the empty grave. A lifetime would not have been long enough to search out the meaning of all she had seen and heard.<br />
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So, may I ask? Have you pondered recently? The reason I ask is that pondering is very time-consuming. It’s not a quick process or even an intriguing thought. Pondering takes contemplation. And who has time for that anymore? Especially during the Christmas season.<br />
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And yet, doesn’t the miracle of the Incarnation require us to ponder, to “wonder anew what the Almighty can do.” Without the wonder, Christmas would simply be another memorial to the life of a great person. Today, pause and ponder the wonder of all that was made possible for you simply because "God so loved the world."<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-38827337485551655692013-11-24T18:26:00.000-08:002013-11-24T18:37:20.951-08:00Learning from the Little Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2cCmZdoyVzjFr4F4ymRUroet18iQmon6hQx-JpldMHO0ZFoylIeEnizSwX8TMxd6R-kNR8E5FgKzajm6uFfwB9ScC9hlfDAbAEQHFxje0Fi3MvOXe7g9M1Wmk9eB3zTJhTCxgNLKDrA/s1600/freeimage-9951076-high.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp2cCmZdoyVzjFr4F4ymRUroet18iQmon6hQx-JpldMHO0ZFoylIeEnizSwX8TMxd6R-kNR8E5FgKzajm6uFfwB9ScC9hlfDAbAEQHFxje0Fi3MvOXe7g9M1Wmk9eB3zTJhTCxgNLKDrA/s320/freeimage-9951076-high.jpg" /></a></div><i>Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written. John 21:25, NIV<br />
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This morning as I sat picking lint out of my hair dryer, I thought about retirement. I can never remember doing this during my years as a working wife and mother. Didn’t I just get a new dryer? And why am I bothering with it now? Don’t I have better things to do?<br />
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After all, wasn’t Jesus constantly about His Father’s business (Lk. 2:49)? What do the seemingly endless daily tasks of life have to do with the kingdom of God? I don’t think about Jesus taking time to eat or sleep. One day He prepared breakfast for His disciples (Jn. 21:9-12). Did He often take time to cook? Or bathe or wash His hair?<br />
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I spent my working years in “Christian service.” I tend to depreciate my current status as somehow less than what I should be accomplishing for Christ. Why? Because I still live in the misconception that doing counts for more than being.<br />
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Maybe you feel like I do. You may be swiping at little runny noses and changing diapers. Or sitting in your car while the soccer practice goes on and on. Perhaps you are caring for a relative’s illness, changing bed sheets and washing pj’s. Some of you are permanent caregivers for elderly parents or aunts or uncles. You wipe drool and repeat the answers to questions that have been asked only moments before.<br />
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God’s Word assures us that life’s main purpose is to develop Christ’s character and the mind of Christ. Our attitudes are to become more like His. (See Phil. 2:5, 1 Pet. 2:21.) The fruit of the spirit passage doesn’t imply a single action that wouldn’t first grow out of who we are (Gal. 5:22).<br />
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Maybe picking the lint in my dryer isn’t the most important thing in the world, but I did learn a little more patience. <br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-2153995514525892702013-10-20T18:00:00.000-07:002013-10-20T18:00:27.819-07:00The Fellowship of the Unashamed<br />
I am sharing the testimony of a black pastor in Africa, written during a time of persecution, which he titled "The Fellowship of the Unashamed." I found it in a magazine twenty years ago and read it occasionally when I need a dose of Christian courage.<br />
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"I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made; I'm a disciple of his. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I'm finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving and dwarfed goals.<br />
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"I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean on his presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer and I labor with power.<br />
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"My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions are few, my guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the poll of popularity or meander in the maze of mediocrity.<br />
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"I won't give up, shut up, let up until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go until He comes, give until I drop, preach until all know and work until He stops me. And, when He comes for his own, He will have no problem recognizing me ... my banner will be clear!"<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-2173107829366480682013-09-18T08:14:00.000-07:002013-09-18T08:14:16.096-07:00The Blame GameEver played the blame game? On a recent visit with my older son and his family, I overheard Scott teasing his 8-year-old daughter. “Sara, tell him he has a poor cause-effect relationship,” I advised.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmy3B7yv3zGufGN7u4XJKsjc1N8sDB-r1zMngy0aMNJ6udBX9UXlCV7ApMlF8-TZ0f1PfZSuMvxRYqt9So_fWnrqhp1r_SlfnroXD6h8thSo_tNsWMJU_090tanrE1e0bWR2T8K-W12I/s1600/IMG_1012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBmy3B7yv3zGufGN7u4XJKsjc1N8sDB-r1zMngy0aMNJ6udBX9UXlCV7ApMlF8-TZ0f1PfZSuMvxRYqt9So_fWnrqhp1r_SlfnroXD6h8thSo_tNsWMJU_090tanrE1e0bWR2T8K-W12I/s320/IMG_1012.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Of course, I had to explain what I meant. She caught on to the concept and nailed him with her logic.<br />
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That got me thinking about some ill-advised cause-effect relationships I’d established through the years. The most disheartening was the decision to sell our dream home because we thought the backyard trees were causing my husband’s asthma.<br />
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The house sold in a week. Unfortunately, further investigating proved that my husband’s asthma attacks had come within weeks of spreading mulch containing rose petals. Sim is highly allergic to roses. Wrong cause-effect but too late to back out of the sale.<br />
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Often, we make decisions without thinking them through. Recall the silly song about the man who kicked the dog, setting off a chain of events he could have never anticipated, simply because he was taking out his anger on the wrong “cause.”<br />
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Churches fire the pastor because worship attendance is declining. Other factors are rarely considered. Business leaders decide to cut costs by firing the people who do the work (without cutting their own salaries). Airlines sacrifice maintenance to increase revenue. The list goes on.<br />
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In our personal relationships, we often jump to conclusions without waiting for the facts to emerge. That’s also true spiritually. If we don’t get immediate answers to our prayers, obviously God isn’t good or loving, right? He must not care! Or we’re just not important to Him in the grand scheme of things.<br />
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Let’s resolve to make decisions based on solid, soul-searching, Scriptural principles that have stood the test of time. Don’t get your daily exercise jumping to false conclusions!<br />
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Before you ascribe blame to anyone or anything, make sure you have the right cause for the effect. How? Prayer, careful analysis, and intense soul-searching. You can live between the ditches!<br />
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Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-76899563529836020402013-07-31T10:28:00.000-07:002013-07-31T10:28:28.359-07:00No Such Thing as White Supremacy!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RyFbaIklHppftE1jB1oC4K1bHFEM8_2wpGe0m9FgbFhmXWqe6eiSa-KKMOApVnQncEnL2523KnfBa9NKHSdIT9SQSDj4_4D9VTvrG8h65dDiCZmKv4oWtU5Og3AEtgIIZJc5Z_kpQOg/s1600/DSCN3904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RyFbaIklHppftE1jB1oC4K1bHFEM8_2wpGe0m9FgbFhmXWqe6eiSa-KKMOApVnQncEnL2523KnfBa9NKHSdIT9SQSDj4_4D9VTvrG8h65dDiCZmKv4oWtU5Og3AEtgIIZJc5Z_kpQOg/s320/DSCN3904.JPG" /></a></div>Recently I visited the historic city of Charleston, South Carolina. I was struck by the proximity of the Boone Plantation to Fort Sumter. Both represent the high cost in human suffering of the War Between the States.<br />
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One experience transported me into the mindset of the slaves who were the sources of plantation wealth. In each of nine slave cabins on the property, recorded narrations explained how slaves lived, worked, and worshipped. Then an eloquent African-American woman told the story of slavery through the eyes of a slave. “This is my history, your history, our history,” she concluded.<br />
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I learned many things about slaves in the South. By law it was illegal to teach them to read or write. Since each slave was individually owned, families were often split apart when at the whim of a slave owner, husband, father, brother, son were shipped to another plantation without regard to any family ties. In fact, slaves were considered so inferior as to not have feelings for each other.<br />
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Workdays in the fields were daylight to dusk. No breaks, no restrooms, no protection from the heat and children worked alongside the parents. If a slave was not as productive as others, he or she was beaten as an example. In short, everything I learned about slavery turned my stomach.<br />
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The other experience occurred at Fort Sumter, where the first shots of the War Between the States resulted in a victory for the Confederacy. In fact, the South never lost control of the fort until they abandoned it. And you’ll never guess the ethnicity of the Park Ranger telling the story—a very well spoken African American.<br />
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The week I returned from Charleston, our nation celebrated Independence Day. The irony that we are a nation of immigrants, beginning with the pilgrims, seems lost on Congress as they debate the immigration bill. Which Indian tribe decided it was “legal” for white people to live on their land?<br />
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Although I know slavery has been (and still is) practiced throughout human history (Abraham had slaves!), I still can’t get my head around it. I don’t understand why some people feel superior to others, much less think they should own them. Friends, there is no such thing as white supremacy. We’re all God’s children, endowed by our Creator with the right to liberty, for “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Cor. 3:17).” In fact, the only One to whom we are slaves is Christ!<br />
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If that statement seems incoherent, read my book, <i>When Christ Sets You Free</i>. In it I explain how Christ sets us free to become slaves of Christ! <br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-53261067631403658902013-06-13T14:15:00.000-07:002013-06-13T14:15:44.618-07:00Religion Regulates—Jesus SavesWhat is the essence of “religion”? Find your own way to God and try to do what’s right.<br />
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Basically, religions come in two categories: self-made and self-focused. Self-made religions are mankind’s attempts to explain life, death, and the meaning of life. They may have begun as myths, legends, stories, or an individual’s private revelations. Most are associated with some person's name such as Joseph Smith, Mary Baker Eddy or L. Ron Hubbard. <br />
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The other category, self-focused religions, ask personal questions. What is going on internally? Am I at peace? Do I feel good about myself? How might exercises and meditation help me achieve a higher state of consciousness? Examples would be yoga as practiced by Hindus or Buddhism.<br />
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Each religion has a code of conduct, a set of rights vs. wrongs, and some established leadership and worship experiences. So, you might rightly ask, how would Christianity be any different?<br />
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Ah! Allow me to answer that. The Bible is the story of God seeking man. Every patriarch, king, prophet, and religious leader in the Bible confronted a word from the Lord, which most had not sought and many did not follow. God is portrayed as the “hound of heaven,” moving toward mankind as each of us tries to move away from Him.<br />
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The stories in the Bible are about real people with real sinful souls recorded for all time with faults, foibles, and folly. Rather than being about a state of perfection, the Bible is about the heartache of trying to live without a personal relationship with God.<br />
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And last, Christianity is about how none of us—no matter how much chanting we do, steps we kiss, services we attend, or good works we perform—can save us from eternal judgment. That’s the good news: Jesus Christ paid our sin debt. Your need for “religion” died on the cross!<br />
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Paul explains this in Colossians 2:20-23.<br />
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20 Since you died with Christ ..., why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: 21 “Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!”? 22 These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. 23 Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.<br />
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Got a sin problem? Don't try to solve it! You just need a Savior.<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-24273531893780748202013-04-25T08:35:00.001-07:002013-04-25T08:35:34.036-07:00On Dog Collars and Yokes, Part 2At my YMCA a wall poster advertises a local humane organization. The poster shows a beautiful collie mix saying, “I don’t know why my owner won’t leave the house with me without a leash. But that’s OK. I don’t mind showing her around.”<br />
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I discovered the importance of a leash while walking my dog Lily. Two neighborhood dogs attacked her. I used the leash to pull Lily to me until I could scoop her into my arms and rush her to the vet. Very scary! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UOJTUxc8GKnYQNW5oNuih8VrQYHgqxtHvcpzkWrwhe3e2uFTvy5_mLzYI1wQbHua3ZDKljzWCd8JzYz-bL8NQn3F0p5fBiIH_TnR6m-eqFGQFEV24ygBX_cieL4AyyzPXLZmvBRsey8/s1600/IMG_0406.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UOJTUxc8GKnYQNW5oNuih8VrQYHgqxtHvcpzkWrwhe3e2uFTvy5_mLzYI1wQbHua3ZDKljzWCd8JzYz-bL8NQn3F0p5fBiIH_TnR6m-eqFGQFEV24ygBX_cieL4AyyzPXLZmvBRsey8/s320/IMG_0406.JPG" /></a><br />
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The leash, of course, was attached to Lily’s dog collar. What if she had not been leashed? In my last post, I talked about comparing a collar to the yoke that Jesus described in Matthew 11:29-30: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”<br />
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Jesus’ listeners would have been quite familiar with the purpose for yoking oxen: to enable them to pull together at the same speed in the same direction. If we live in such a way that Jesus is the “driver” and we are the oxen, we can be assured that we will go in the direction He desires, at the speed He desires, in cooperation (and not competition) with other believers. How freeing to know we are not alone, forging ahead without direction or purpose! Those fellow believers beside me are friends, not foes, helping me get to my destination.<br />
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Jesus describes His purpose in yoking us: to learn from Him. In a similar way, my “yoked” dogs learn the path around our neighborhood—which patches of grass they may walk on (or poop and pee) and which they cannot, which persons approaching them will want to stop for a friendly greeting and others who will not. If they hear a loud noise, they look to me to see if they should high-tail it for home. We learn from Jesus by observing His ways and hearing His voice through prayers, sermons, Bible studies, and Christian fellowship.<br />
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Note that in this analogy Jesus is behind the oxen rather than in front of them. He leads from behind, yet they can tell from his pulling which direction to go. That reminds me that we walk by faith, taking steps into the unknown (see the post “Leading from Behind,” 3/20/13). The essence of discipleship is listening to the Master’s voice, “This is the way, walk in it” (Isa. 30:21).<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-5739756250466130482013-04-17T09:14:00.000-07:002013-04-17T09:14:53.226-07:00On Dog Collars and Yokes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ohJMGvVgzRa0KTMRdgufhwD6AxIRFODGxvzs2z1Aoz7TWL8M3OP7jZBQsYjZ-z5exoZDtEGDfCpgW3jYa9VeK3FPQjZENxobNsCIKRVCHCtd-RY6RMMRJJZayi-rjbPlrHa4ZTrw_6g/s1600/dog+collars.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ohJMGvVgzRa0KTMRdgufhwD6AxIRFODGxvzs2z1Aoz7TWL8M3OP7jZBQsYjZ-z5exoZDtEGDfCpgW3jYa9VeK3FPQjZENxobNsCIKRVCHCtd-RY6RMMRJJZayi-rjbPlrHa4ZTrw_6g/s320/dog+collars.jpg" /></a><br />
Monday night was spa night at the Hasslers. Granted, “the girls” (Lily, 3, and Coco, 1) don’t like spa night, but I try to make it as pleasant as cleaning and trimming ears can be for two malti-poos. Often, they run to Dad, as though he’s not involved in the conspiracy, but eventually, when the grooming is over, they still enjoy a belly rub from monster Mom.<br />
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What amazes me most is their excitement when I hold out their collars and re-attach them securely around their necks. Don’t these dogs understand that collars are confining? Don’t the collars sometimes chafe or itch? Wouldn’t life be better if Mom had nothing with which to grab them when they try to scamper away on spa night?<br />
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Is it possible my girls see the collars as a security blanket, a way for a stranger to identify them from the attached tags, or even as the vehicle by which I leash them for the highlights of their days—walks around the neighborhood.<br />
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Then it occurred to me that I, too, wear a collar of sorts. As a believer, I am “yoked” to Jesus Christ. He told me that in Matthew 11:29-30: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”<br />
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Wait a minute! I thought I had found freedom in Christ! Now I’m reminded that my freedom has limits. If it’s any comfort, we’re all yoked to something. In the case of the Pharisees in Jesus’ day, they were yoked to the 612 laws that had been added to the Ten Commandments. These yokes were strangling them (see Acts 15:9-11).<br />
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Others were yoked to besetting sins, evil and immoral acts and debilitating habits. These thoughts and actions were enslaving both believers and unbelievers. Paul told the Galatian Christians, “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery” (Gal. 5:1).<br />
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Would I rather be yoked to Christ or to Satan? You knew I’d find a way to plug my book in here somewhere! To find out more about how Christ sets us free from uncomfortable and confining yokes of the world, pick up a copy of <i>When Christ Sets You Free: Living Between the Ditches series</i> (crossbooks.com).<br />
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In my next post, we’ll talk more about Christ’s yoke. Til then, keep living between the ditches!<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-76548088259880771182013-03-20T08:29:00.000-07:002013-03-20T08:33:47.534-07:00Leading from Behind“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” Isaiah 30:21<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozJK-RQJ448zlOTxpvej9EXQ8vankvTzjTObhqtADAexXpiewThuluQ0tS46-Rs9ZLWBhshPQ-UhvWyqnEIPw-eeAL03Y7zV4wFSlhdiSKRGfbvAhAm1BbFES8a0DeY6i_1iTqZEu0tM/s1600/MP900049084.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozJK-RQJ448zlOTxpvej9EXQ8vankvTzjTObhqtADAexXpiewThuluQ0tS46-Rs9ZLWBhshPQ-UhvWyqnEIPw-eeAL03Y7zV4wFSlhdiSKRGfbvAhAm1BbFES8a0DeY6i_1iTqZEu0tM/s320/MP900049084.JPG" /></a><br />
(This morning’s conversation with God:)<br />
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<i>Say what? <br />
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No, Lord, Your voice is to be ahead of me not behind me—you know, showing me the Way. Because you go before me, right? You’re the leader; I’m the follower. “Lead on, O King Eternal,” as the hymn says.<br />
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You see, I don’t like the implications of Isaiah 30:21. It suggests that I must walk the way of faith, stepping off into the unknown through the leading of the Holy Spirit.<br />
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I prefer to know exactly where I’m going, what I’ll be doing, how I’ll know on the front end, and—if it’s not asking too much—the exact outcomes. After all, isn’t that the essence of prayer—being assured of the right path to take?<br />
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What’d You say? Of course I’ve read Hebrews 11. Lord, I’ve read the whole Bible! I know that Noah built an ark before he’d ever seen rain. Abraham was told to go to a land You would show him, and Moses wandered around in the desert for 40 years. But these are Bible stories—not real life!<br />
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Being a person of faith requires—well—faith. I’m the practical sort; seeing is believing. Faith requires relationship instead of a formula; a Person, not just a book; a Spirit blowing through my life that brings (dreaded) spontaneity and flexibility. Faith means being “at the ready,” and I like to plan my days well in advance.<br />
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What’d You say? I thought I heard something from behind me.<br />
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“Walk in it.” Yes Lord, one step at a time.<br />
</i>Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-56543305079532952092013-03-01T06:56:00.000-08:002013-03-01T07:22:06.517-08:00My Friends: Five Deadly Sins, All Defeated by Christ<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqR77lbSRRM5BLZfCeJjUC-DmASk1VLoZZ5S2tUFg7g3XySqMf-4112XZUjavWU3wy4xH0y4hxF07oGzNvBp-ltTxLuZaKrsBj1Rn2IAe23OffMB-UtNniyQgDrIq1pmMshNU0dT3uNfM/s1600/IMG_0931.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqR77lbSRRM5BLZfCeJjUC-DmASk1VLoZZ5S2tUFg7g3XySqMf-4112XZUjavWU3wy4xH0y4hxF07oGzNvBp-ltTxLuZaKrsBj1Rn2IAe23OffMB-UtNniyQgDrIq1pmMshNU0dT3uNfM/s320/IMG_0931.JPG" /></a><br />
These women are friends of mine—Pride, Envy, Greed, Gluttony, and Sloth. No, really!<br />
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Actually, their names are Pat, Melody, Dee Anne, Karen, and Andrea, but they’ve chosen to play these roles in my church’s Easter drama. This picture was taken at a recent rehearsal.<br />
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Since Jesus’ resurrection, Christians have wondered about the three days Jesus was in the tomb. Where was He? What was He doing? The apostle Peter says Christ visited the “spirits in prison,” which scholars believe is a reference to hell (1 Pet. 3:18-19).<br />
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Author and theologian William L. Hendricks believed such an event, beyond the borders of history, would be best expressed in poetry and drama. And so he wrote a morality play. The play identifies those “spirits” as the Seven Deadly Sins who serve Death, Hell, and Satan. The setting is a boardroom in Hell.<br />
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The play begins with Jesus’ prayer on the eve of His crucifixion: “The hour has come” (Jn. 17:1). The “hour” is the time the Son will be glorified and the enemies of God utterly defeated.<br />
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Aware of Christ’s impending arrival in hell, Satan calls a meeting to discuss how His coming will be received. Everyone has an opinion, but Satan remains convinced that he can win over the Suffering Servant. Thus, he uses his vast experience with deception and aggression to try to carve a victory out of sure defeat.<br />
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The play is an allegory and not intended to be taken literally. In fact, how Christ defeats Satan is a clever surprise. However, it drives home the assurance that these enemies of God are completely defeated by the crucifixion and then the resurrection of Christ.<br />
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Believers need to be reminded of the victory Christ has won for them over sin, death, and hell. These enemies seem to go unchecked in the world today; however, we know the end of the story, and we win!<br />
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Want to see the play? We’ve transformed First Baptist Nashville’s fellowship hall into a hellish place! But only from 6:10-6:50 on Wednesday, March 6. Can’t come? Then offer a prayer that God through Christ will be glorified.<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-47228936532275671042013-02-10T16:48:00.002-08:002013-02-10T16:48:27.202-08:00Blackout or Light-In?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkqgAP0HM9pKSAXjRFsFywWuJmmG1brwk5m_ale2AqHQqyfWzzTAh_3aKxhqHDAfaypEce_9GkEakfohhcGMnjSTEZf9sJvmi44NNPcI4EFDi1gyjkS59Sifjwk34tAIW0hwdqtsJLmU/s1600/Night-Thursday.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkqgAP0HM9pKSAXjRFsFywWuJmmG1brwk5m_ale2AqHQqyfWzzTAh_3aKxhqHDAfaypEce_9GkEakfohhcGMnjSTEZf9sJvmi44NNPcI4EFDi1gyjkS59Sifjwk34tAIW0hwdqtsJLmU/s200/Night-Thursday.jpeg" /></a></div>Was it worth all the fuss? Now we know what caused the blackout at the Super Bowl. It wasn’t Beyonce’s provocative dancing—but some electrical thing-y. Thirty-five minutes and millions of tweets later, the blackout became a light-in.<br />
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What would it take to get the world to ask a more significant question? What turned the lights on? I’m not talking about an electric grid or substation but about the creation of light itself. How did the sun, moon, and stars originate, and when did they confer on exactly how to light our planet in such a way as to sustain life?<br />
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Myths and legends and scientific theories abound. Some “answers” were wildly mistaken (the sun revolves around the earth). But one source book claims to have the truth: “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Gen. 1:3).<br />
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The Old Testament God is often symbolized as light . For example, Moses saw a burning bush. During the plague of darkness in Eqypt, only the Israelites had light. When Moses came down from the mountain with two tablets, his face was radiant from being in God’s presence. <br />
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The prophet Isaiah said, “Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God” (Isa. 50:10).<br />
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In the New Testament Jesus announced, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (Jn. 8:12).<br />
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Wherever Christ is Lord, light becomes visible in human form. We walk in the light (1 Jn. 1:7). Let’s live as creatures of the light, shining in dark places (2 Pt 1:19).<br />
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<i>Father of Light, without whom the word would be plunged into darkness, thank You for the light of another day. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></i><br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-5516771449850423062013-01-27T20:10:00.000-08:002013-01-27T20:10:13.255-08:00Measuring Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhivcOI7ZZUB_EeNlvJAg1Wj2xQUcY38TfR0ie0Ntf_YbOi_6rXzEjmZoKYk5Q7Bc_1XXIqGF6Pa0s5LcHDnrxwaSk9ovRAHKj0QTnXmQoir9fk3zcNT2fNwGQer6mHPR7QOi9bXcK5gX8/s1600/all+day-Wednesday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="160" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhivcOI7ZZUB_EeNlvJAg1Wj2xQUcY38TfR0ie0Ntf_YbOi_6rXzEjmZoKYk5Q7Bc_1XXIqGF6Pa0s5LcHDnrxwaSk9ovRAHKj0QTnXmQoir9fk3zcNT2fNwGQer6mHPR7QOi9bXcK5gX8/s200/all+day-Wednesday.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I just finished Mitch Albom's novel, <i>The Time Keeper</i>. I had loved <i>Tuesdays with Morrie</i> and <i>The Five People You Meet in Heaven</i>. This latest novel was no disappointment.<br />
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The irony is that I read the book because I had time on my hands. A week ago I sprained my back, and I've spent seven days lying down, reclining, and occasionally sitting. I've iced my back more than a polar bear in winter. Albom's book provided some necessary comfort for my boredom. And plenty of food for thought.<br />
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According to the author, this is a story about the meaning of time. The main character, Nor, is the father of time. Yet he regrets his discovery. He observes that people fill every waking minute with action, but they are empty. There's always more to do and never enough time to do it in! Once we have a sense of passing time, the simple joy of living between sunrises is gone.<br />
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I've been there. Haven't you? I've measured my days by what I accomplished in 12 hours, as though efficiency were the standard of well-used time. Albom puts these words in Dor's mouth: "When you are measuring life, you are not living it."<br />
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So why did God limit our days? Albom concludes: "To make each one precious." With endless time, nothing is special. The psalmist asked God, "Teach us to number our days." In other words, hold each day as sacred and a gift. My last seven days have been unproductive but nonetheless a treasure. God's good gift of healing takes time.<br />
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Solomon said there is a time for everything under heaven. Albom restates the proverb: "It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be." <br />
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That's so true. Haven't you wished for something forever, then when it came, you knew the timing was perfect?<br />
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St. John described a place where time shall be no more. Until then, I'll live between the ditches of measuring my time, yet knowing it's never too late or too soon.<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-953379693704869112012-12-12T10:04:00.001-08:002012-12-12T10:04:48.179-08:00"You Have to Be Carefully Taught"The title of this song from the musical, "South Pacific," came to mind as I sat watching the Nashville Christmas parade last Friday. Children have to be carefully taught prejudice, because they don't inherit the hate gene through the birth process.<br />
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On both sides of my front-row chair at the parade were two boys ages 3 and 1. Each sat in the lap of a parent from an Arabian country. The father is studying at Vanderbilt. We had gotten to know them through an international student program at Vanderbilt.<br />
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I played with the 3-year-old and held the baby. Neither was at all concerned that I am Caucasian. In fact, the baby "made eyes at me" and gave me so many smiles I wanted to take him home with me.<br />
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Then an unexpected thing happened. Standing behind me was another little boy of African-American heritage. Probably around 4-years-old, he could barely see the parade between the chairs. Impulsively, I asked his parents if he could come sit in my lap so he could see better. They agreed and lifted him overhead, where he sat on my lap for probably an hour!<br />
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Again, the little boy didn't ask why a white woman was holding him. In fact, he was completely absorbed in the parade. We tapped our hands and feet as the bands marched by, and he only occasionally looked back to see if Mom and Dad were still there.<br />
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The scene reminded me of a time 40+ years ago when my husband pastored an inner-city mission church as a seminary student. One day I was sitting on the porch steps holding an African-American baby. A little girl came up to me and asked, "Is that your baby?"<br />
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Her question was a perfect reflection of a heart not yet hardened by a color-conscious society, where ethnicity decides for us who we like and with whom we socialize. What a travesty to judge people by the color of their skin or their native tongue!<br />
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This Christmas sing along with me, "Jesus Loves the Little Children of the World." I know it's not a Christmas song, but it should be! After all, Christmas would have no meaning if Jesus had not come to save us ALL from our sins.Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-90228083137352120622012-10-25T13:09:00.001-07:002012-10-25T13:09:48.056-07:00On Ants and Grasshoppers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEO8THpx8-6beT4uI1mlr7aGJa1oTKYDfwXRS9w4jgNENJNrMpE_odvK9QVnI6lkDcG63E0-UpFALf2rqAO4rRdyZcIagkxHjO9ml-ZbDjXGXl9HZcBCNcOZJhaw_gUeXXAm0AuJiW7gQ/s1600/Downtrodden-Tuesday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEO8THpx8-6beT4uI1mlr7aGJa1oTKYDfwXRS9w4jgNENJNrMpE_odvK9QVnI6lkDcG63E0-UpFALf2rqAO4rRdyZcIagkxHjO9ml-ZbDjXGXl9HZcBCNcOZJhaw_gUeXXAm0AuJiW7gQ/s200/Downtrodden-Tuesday.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As I walked Lily this morning (Coco is getting a new "do" at the groomer), I noticed that the multiple ant hills on our regular route are dormant: no little red dots scurrying across the sidewalk carrying their tiny burdens. Lily, who has a habit of sticking her nose into other creatures' business, paid the hills no mind. <br />
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A Bible verse came to me, probably because I'm reading Proverbs at present in my quiet time. Proverbs 6:6, "Go to the ant ... consider its ways and be wise," reminds us to be diligent in providing for our families, and like the ant, to store up for a rainy day. <br />
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Then I remembered one of my childhood favorite stories, "The Grasshopper and the Ants." I played the record (yes, one of those platters that went round and round!) endlessly. I loved hearing how the poor grasshopper, who hadn't planned for the winter, was taken in by the industrious ants. Out of the cold and into the warmth of the ants' little home, the grasshopper was spared from starvation. Of course, the grasshopper learned his lesson: like a good Boy Scout, be prepared!<br />
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Our nation is presently in a quandary as to what to do with the nation's poor. What is a Christian response to the fact that the poverty rate has risen, and more people are on food stamps? Should we cross examine every person who comes to a food pantry to determine his or her worthiness? Or do we care for everyone, no questions asked?<br />
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I like to think of these matters as paradoxes. On the one hand, "If a man will not work, he shall not eat," said the apostle Paul in 2 Thessalonians 3:10. On the other hand, we read dozens of verses from both the Old and New Testaments about God's concern for the poor. Jesus described His sheep as those who feed and clothe the hungry (Matt. 25:35-36). In fact, the least little kindness is considered "as unto Christ." Note that no mention is made of whether these are the "worthy" poor.<br />
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At the same time, do we truly "help" if we are enabling persons to spend food money on drugs, alcohol, or gambling? Or even on junk food, gum, or soft drinks!<br />
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This is not an abstract question for me. For several years I directed a church-based ministry that sought to ferret out the truly needy from hucksters and slackers. Twenty years later, when I returned to visit the ministry, I found my case file #1 was still open! Some family dynamics seem never to change.<br />
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I would rather err on the side of helping than withholding. (I often did "err.") But I also refused help to those who lived off the hard work of others. I wish society would spend more dollars on social workers than sports stadiums! <br />
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My advice? As our nation gets ready to celebrate "Make a Difference Day," find one specific step you can take to help a family in need. Ask your pastor or staff person for a recommendation. After all, we live in the "Volunteer State."Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-25535387243653280782012-10-03T20:39:00.000-07:002012-10-03T20:39:08.992-07:00Everything I Needed to Know, I've Learned from My Dogs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGeVmKjqHqdYltXpjL_wQlUWagDZSL1uvPBelrJaoSW42Of7Vwq4-bPcxSNmVw6PauUWMPdh_1ZY0RiEM2-Cp-x7M3F1Do-xw9uXoYvn_1CWPAtq6UXZvjwifGsi-3IbMfVxhwTZZ-KY/s1600/IMG_0180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGeVmKjqHqdYltXpjL_wQlUWagDZSL1uvPBelrJaoSW42Of7Vwq4-bPcxSNmVw6PauUWMPdh_1ZY0RiEM2-Cp-x7M3F1Do-xw9uXoYvn_1CWPAtq6UXZvjwifGsi-3IbMfVxhwTZZ-KY/s200/IMG_0180.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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My two malti-poos squabble like typical siblings. It occurred to me at breakfast this morning that they are much like Christ's disciples. Coco started the fuss by trying to eat Lily's food. She always prefers what Lily eats because Lily is older and thus Mama's favorite. Whatever Lily gets surely must be the best!<br />
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In reality, Lily is on a low-fat canned dog food for, shall we say, plump dogs. Lily's food comes from the vet's office, but personally speaking, it's pretty lame. On the other hand, Coco's food is full of protein. Since she's still considered a puppy, she needs a calorie-laden diet. Coco should love her food; after all, Lily does.<br />
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Yes, I mean Lily. Lily sneaks around and eats Coco's food behind my back. Her increasing girth gives her away, even if I hadn't caught her "in the act." Now, I understand why Lily eats Coco's food. It's tasty and fattening! What I don't understand is why Coco tries to eat Lily's.<br />
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I've thought about this paradigm a lot since Coco took up residence eight months ago, right from the breeder's arms into ours. "She loves her food," the breeder assured me. Yeah, right! Right until she saw that she had a choice.<br />
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I'm reminded of Adam and Eve in the garden: wanting what they can't have, assuming the divine Parent has deprived them for no good reason, and taking matters into their own hands. My doggie-girls, like modern-day disciples, want what others have, even if it's not good for them. And, we too can't believe a loving God would keep us from having our desires!<br />
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I've tried to explain to Lily that Coco's food isn't appropriate for her. She cocks her head as if to say, "But I like it. You are withholding blessings from me." And my sweet baby Coco is determined to eat "what the big kids get."<br />
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Mama knows best, I've told them, recounting the many ways I take care of them. Why don't they trust me? Why don't I trust God? Maybe if I'm a better disciple, living by faith in God's goodness and provision, my girls will get the hint. <br />
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Unfortunately, Lily and Coco don't have a new nature in Christ. They still live in a dog-eat-dog world (sorry, I couldn't resist). Father, help me with my envy of others. May I accept what you have for me, your kid, unconditionally loved.Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-27974849232724028302012-08-17T19:58:00.000-07:002012-08-17T20:05:12.562-07:00The Real Deal: Being Authentic in an Inauthentic WorldI was in graduate school and slightly in love. Well, maybe a lot in love. But I kept to the high school maxim: "Never let him see you in curlers with no makeup." Supposedly, if you revealed your true self (or face), your true love would high-tail it to the woods and never be seen again.<br />
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So with hair perfectly coiffed and a carefully chosen outfit, I met my date in the front lobby of the dorm (yes, a dorm), and we headed out to his church van full of teenagers from his part-time pastorate. The plan was to take them to eat at a fast-food place and then head downtown to a statewide youth evangelist event.<br />
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At the burger place, I bit down on something hot, followed by a cold drink from my soda. The combination was unfortunate for the crown on one of my front teeth. It cracked along the back side and was hanging by a thread.<br />
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How do you bring up the fact that you have two capped teeth to someone you are dating? "Oh, by the way, do you see these two fake teeth? Ha, ha." I didn't know how to handle my embarrassment, much less in front of the teenagers (who are as a sub-set of the population notoriously cruel). <br />
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So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I rushed toward the van and told him to take me back to the dorm--no explanation, no details. Just take me back. He left the kids to finish their meal, and when we got back to the dorm, I fled up the steps without so much as a goodbye kiss. I called my dentist, who agreed to meet me the next day at his office.<br />
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I didn't have to worry about never seeing my date again. We had already made plans to go to his parents' house for the weekend for my very first visit! Now his mother would see my temporary cap and my other front tooth and ask her son, "What were you thinking?"<br />
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I worried about "my first impression" (no pun intended) all weekend. No one asked about my smile. I left the house feeling relieved that I hadn't left one or the other tooth in a piece of steak. Nobody seemed the wiser.<br />
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Shortly thereafter my true love and I announced our engagement, and the "tooth fairy" shined down on us until years later when I broke another crown!<br />
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Why couldn't I have just made a joke of my situation on that awful night at the fast food restaurant? Why was I afraid I'd be judged by my appearance, or lose my boyfriend over a slight imperfection? More importantly, why do I still hide out when it comes to letting my imperfections be known?<br />
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I even play that game with God. Somehow the Creator of the Universe isn't going to figure out I'm faking it in worship, or acting more pious than I am, or being nice to someone I really can't stand. Somehow the Almighty will be impressed with my "Sunday self." Oh, God, help me be real, especially with You."<br />
Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-78516483667328254942012-08-11T08:44:00.000-07:002012-08-11T08:47:01.002-07:00Precious MomentsThe document verifies the date: 42 years. How could Sim and I have been married that long? Why, it seems like only yesterday we were battling over important life issues such as "When is bedtime?" and "How much stuff is one allowed to stack in one's closet?" In fact, it was yesterday. And the year before that and the year before that—well, you get the picture.<br />
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"They say" opposites attract, and I suppose we prove the adage. I'm structured; he's spontaneous. I like neat; he likes everything out where it can be seen. I'm an introvert; he never met a stranger. I am by nature contemplative; Sim thinks on his feet.<br />
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We always said, mostly in jest, that we stayed together because of the kids—whoever left had to take them with him or her! So, on our anniversary night, it seemed appropriate to invite our youngest, Mark, to join us for the festivities. He brought us a card that reminded, "A life together is made up of loving, silly, important moments, but mostly, moments with each other."<br />
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Three friends have recently lost their mates. Today, Sim and I have precious moments together. I hope we don't waste any of them.<a href="http://"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzZoe5wLxZ_ZTGn7HJH0V20iDY2YdKY2tfjAA-1s0C5IzqHYs0kygoUOxQqF95qArQaWdUm6GszNQtVHjGtbF5-J1X_ROAKeDqF_SpdkS5I2UtMLaJN8xVaeaijMVSp0Zf1woTROeeQw/s1600/IMG_0156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzZoe5wLxZ_ZTGn7HJH0V20iDY2YdKY2tfjAA-1s0C5IzqHYs0kygoUOxQqF95qArQaWdUm6GszNQtVHjGtbF5-J1X_ROAKeDqF_SpdkS5I2UtMLaJN8xVaeaijMVSp0Zf1woTROeeQw/s200/IMG_0156.JPG" /></a></div><br />
</a>Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4916566125481701174.post-43538369082268486732012-07-10T19:25:00.000-07:002012-07-10T19:26:32.331-07:00Barbed Wire for Fun and Eternal Profit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7cv9yvrdMrC8eLbsZK6YSH924lfb7pt64RIYoXT2b8fxHmoh5sSMQbnYh5JJhk2JgkmksI5PPnxAXiezaKUG7SKI1GbMQnDAKQWAGLVkizvhbGc5qSgCu_bkYQpDyo9G9d8TejnDhDc/s1600/IMG_0831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL7cv9yvrdMrC8eLbsZK6YSH924lfb7pt64RIYoXT2b8fxHmoh5sSMQbnYh5JJhk2JgkmksI5PPnxAXiezaKUG7SKI1GbMQnDAKQWAGLVkizvhbGc5qSgCu_bkYQpDyo9G9d8TejnDhDc/s200/IMG_0831.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Entering the office of seminary professor Dr. LeRoy Ford, I was immediately struck by the different strands of barbed wire decoratively placed around the walls of the small room. I was in my first semester as a religious education student at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. The year was 1967. <br />
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Following my eyes and sensing the question forming on my lips, Dr. Ford explained that he had joined a barbed wire collector's club in Fort Worth. <i>Perhaps he was reared on a farm,</i> I thought. But after a little gentle probing (we shared the trait of curiosity), he explained that he had joined the group as an opportunity to witness.<br />
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My next thought was that I had just met "The Nutty Professor." <br />
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"I don't get to know many unsaved people," Dr. Ford continued. "This seemed like a good place to meet a few." Stunned by his creative approach to evangelism, I would soon discover LeRoy had a creative approach to everything.<br />
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He loved photography, skilled in picturing flowers and other wonders of nature. He relished the Mexican culture and studied all things Aztec. He was a Baptist historian, a talented cartoonist, an artful editor, and the author of several books. <br />
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LeRoy supervised my doctoral dissertation. He got me my first writing assignment with the Baptist Sunday School Board (now LifeWay). I took every course he offered, including his very first practicum on curriculum design. I modeled my teaching, curriculum writing, and editing on the skills, instruction, and values of LeRoy Ford.<br />
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Our earthly friendship of 45 years ended yesterday. Dr. Ford died July 9, 2012, after a short stay in the hospital. I already miss him.<br />
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LeRoy is survived by his talented wife Jeanette, an archivist and author in her own right, children and grandchildren, and hundreds of students. <i>I was his favorite,</i> I tell myself, smugly. We all thought we were. He made everyone feel special.<br />
<br />Betty Hasslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00475955579231905238noreply@blogger.com0