Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen

Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen

Facing Your Kidron Valley

By Judy Vandiver

© Judy Vandiver 2010

Have you ever found yourself in a difficult spot or situation? I’m sure you have. We all have. And when we find ourselves in something that is foreign to us, we think it is foreign to all mankind and perhaps even to God.

How easy is it to believe that no one before you has seen the kind of problems you are experiencing? There is an old spiritual that says, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows my sorrows.”

People have made this kind of complaint for thousands of years. Look at a passage from the Old Testament. This is during the Israelites wandering in the desert:

That night all the people of the community raised their voices and wept aloud. ² All the Israelites grumbled against Moses and Aaron, and the whole assembly said to them, “If only we had died in Egypt! Or in this desert! ³ Why is the Lord bringing us to this land only to let us fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be taken as plunder. Wouldn’t it be better for us to go back to Egypt?” ⁴ And they said to each other, “We should choose a leader and go back to Egypt.” (Numbers 14: 1-4 NIV).

When these same people had been slaves in Egypt, they thought that trouble was unbearable with no way out. Held as slaves, they worked hard, but Pharaoh was not satisfied. He ordered them to make bricks without straw. When the Israelites couldn’t meet their quota, they were beaten. “You have made us a stench to Egypt,” they said. Can you hear their voices, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.” Can you hear them crying in the desert? “Nobody knows my sorrows.”

Let’s move forward a little in the Bible to 2 Samuel chapter 15 where King David is being pursued by his son, Absalom. As he flees, his kingdom followed him. At one point, he stepped aside and let them pass. Verse 15:23 tells us, “The whole countryside wept aloud as all the people passed by. The king also crossed the Kidron Valley, and all the people moved on toward the desert.” Again the Israelites are headed for the desert and again they are in distress, weeping aloud. 

The Kidron Valley the Israelites crossed lay beside Jerusalem separating the temple mount and the city of David on the west from the Mount of Olives on the east. The Kidron Valley was a gloomy place; cemeteries have been located in this area since the middle Bronze Age (before 1500 b.c). Some Bible references refer to a brook that ran through the Valley. This brook became more of a ditch where the waste of Jerusalem was carried away. Not only did King David cross the brook when he fled Jerusalem to escape from Absalom (2 Sam. 15:23), but later Solomon warned Shimei not to cross it or he would die (1 Kings 2:37). This is the place where certain kings of Judah destroyed idols and other pagan objects removed from the temple area (1 Kings 15:13; 2 Kings 23:4, 6, 12; 2 Chron. 29:16; 30:14).[i]

Do you often have your own Kidron Valley? Have you ever been in a place filled with gloom? A place where physical or spiritual death surrounded you? A place where you cry, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows my sorrow.”

Let’s move further ahead in the Bible to the book of John. The Scripture says, “When he had finished praying, Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley. On the other side there was an olive grove, and he and his disciples went into it.” (John 18:1 NIV). Jesus had to go through the Kidron Valley to get to the Mount of Olives. And he truly faced something no one had faced before or since. He was about to give His life in ransom for the entire world. The cross became his ultimate Kidron Valley and he went there willingly. Just as when Jesus physically crossed the Kidron Valley and came out in the olive grove, He also emerged victorious on the other side of the cross.

In a devotional by Charles Spurgeon, he asks, “What is our Kidron this morning? Is it a faithless friend, a sad bereavement, a slanderous reproach, a dark foreboding? The King has passed over all these. Is it bodily pain, poverty, persecution, or contempt? Over each of these Kidrons the King has gone before us.”[ii]

I can’t leave you with today’s devotional without telling you the rest of that old spiritual. The song goes on to say, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody knows my sorrow. Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. Nobody but Jesus. Glory Hallelujah!”

As you face whatever Kidron Valley lies before you, trust that even if no one else knows the trouble you are going through, Jesus knows. He cares. He’s been to your Kidron. He’ll carry you through to the olive grove.   

Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen-Facing Your Kidron Valley; © Judy Vandiver 2010

---

[i] Brand, C., Draper, C., England, A., Bond, S., Clendenen, E. R., Butler, T. C., & Latta, B. (2003). Holman Illustrated Bible Dictionary (983). Nashville, TN: Holman Bible Publishers.

[ii] Spurgeon, C. H. (2006). Morning and evening : Daily readings (Complete and unabridged; New modern edition.). Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers.

The Day Texas Exploded

The Day Texas Exploded

By Judy Vandiver

Tomorrow marks the 63rd anniversary of a tragic event. 

It was a picturesque morning with promises of a beautiful spring.  The sun rose above the horizon across the bay tickling the water with wavy shimmers.  The seaside community was beginning their work day in chemical plants, the docks and small business scattered throughout the growing boomtown, grateful for work.   Fathers had left home a few hours earlier carrying their lunch pails.   Mothers kissed their children goodbye and sent them off to school.   Children laughed as they skipped on their journey to their classes, stopping to enjoy the smell of the crisp salt air.   Everything was as it should be in Texas City, Texas.   Then Texas exploded.

It was April 16, 1947.  A ship was being loaded at the docks with ammonium nitrate.  There had been warning signs; signs that went unheeded.   The ammonium nitrate bags were hot to the touch, the bags were ripping and the ship’s hold they were being moved to sat close to ammunition that wasn’t unloaded when scheduled.  

Spontaneous combustion occurred in the ammonium nitrate bags and a fire broke out in the ship’s cargo area.  Attempts to douse the fire with drinking water were unsuccessful.  Within minutes the ship exploded, sending a mushroom shaped cloud skyward, blocking out the rays of the sun.  

Across the bay, Galveston residents watched as the sky grew increasingly darker.  The blast was heard as far away as 150 miles.  A seismologist in Colorado noted the vibrations on his instruments.  News of the explosion soon traveled around the world.  But the effects went much further.  The effects went deep into the souls that survived the raining hell.  

Over 500 died that morning on the Texas City shore.  Some were never identified.  For 63 years, family members have wondered what happened to their loved ones.  Remaining survivors are now in their 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.  Some carry scars on their bodies.  All carry scars on their hearts. 

xxx

This story has meaning to me because warning signs were ignored.  I think sometimes in our lives we dismiss signals that something is not as it should be.  We continue merrily along only to discover that our world has been blown apart.   We traverse into danger zones; we disregard God’s forewarning that something is hot; and we try to handle the consequences with inadequate fighting power.  The catastrophe may end, but the results stay with us forever. 

Partnership with Readers

Partnership with Readers

By Judy Vandiver

© 2010 Judy Vandiver

Today’s blog continues from where we left off last week in Philippians.

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.3I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, (Philippians 1:2-5 NIV)

Paul considered his writing a partnership his readers. He didn’t consider himself better than his target audience. He didn’t write “down” to them. In effect, he was saying, “Hey, we’re all in this life together.” Then he shared what he had learned in order to help someone else.

Whether writing fiction or non-fiction, it is important to treat your readers with respect. Give them credit for understanding what you write. Don’t over-explain what should be obvious and don’t beat them up with the moral message or theme of your work. When I come across a passage in a book where the author explains to me what they mean, I feel insulted that they didn’t think I was smart enough to “get it.” As an author, if I feel the need to explain something I wrote, perhaps I need to rewrite it.

Another way that authors tend to write down to their readers is with finger pointing. When an author continually tells a reader what “the reader” should do, it can come across as preachy. Be careful of the word “you.” Try substituting “I” or “we” when possible. By pointing out our faults and relating with the reader, we enter into a partnership with them.

Below is an example of how Paul partnered himself with his readers. Notice how he describes his own desires, shortcomings, and thoughts. He then gives advice to the reader, but does so by including himself needy of the instructions he gives them.

I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.
Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. Only let us live up to what we have already attained. (Philippians 3:10:16 NIV)

In partnering with our readers, we can help them identify with us, take our message in a non-preachy fashion, and apply spiritual truths that God has laid on our hearts.

Partnership with Readers / © 2010 Judy Vandiver

Taking Aim with Your Words

Taking Aim with Your Words

By Judy Vandiver

©2010 Judy Vandiver 

Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus, To all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons: (Philippians 1:1 NIV)

Today’s blog is centered around Paul’s opening words in his letter to the Philippians. Another tip on writing can be found when we study the writing style laid out in Philippians 1:1. Notice that Paul wrote to a specific audience. His target audience was saints in the city of Philippi. While it’s true that over the last twenty centuries many people not from Philippi have been blessed by Paul’s letter, he kept his target audience in his mind as he wrote. By constantly remembering those who would be recipients of his letter, he was able to address specific needs.

It is important as writers for us to identify our target audience, then address the needs of that audience. When we write to one person or group, our writing becomes more personal. It’s a matter of addressing a specific need rather than trying to write one manuscript that is the end-all for the world’s problems. If your target audience is too wide, your words are likely to hit no one at their point of need.

By writing to a target audience and focusing on a particular need, we are able, with God’s help, to craft our words and focus our aim on one specific point of attack by Satan. This is how Paul constructed his letter to the Philippians. He addressed one area of vulnerability at a time. He didn’t try to take Satan out with a world-class explosion. He steadied himself, took aim at one demon at a time, and picked them off like a well-trained sharp-shooter.

Because the saints at Philippi were humans, we identify with their needs. So Paul’s letter continues to reach people and speak to people today. Most of the needs of our target audience are probably universal. While we may write something that appeals to a wider circle than our target audience, it is the writing to individual needs, problems, and attacks that make the writing personal to our readers.

So, choose your audience. Focus on a specific need. Take aim. By narrowing the focus, our words can knock out the enemy on one attack level at a time.

©2010 Judy Vandiver

God Speaks to Writers Today

God Speaks to Writers Today

By Judy Vandiver

©2010 Judy Vandiver

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. (1 John 1:1 NIV)

The disciple John wrote the above verse approximately fifty years after Christ’s resurrection. Because many new believers had not witnessed Jesus’ miracles first hand, commitment had waned. John wrote this letter to be circulated among the churches, to encourage them in their walk and strengthen their belief.

What John wrote is still being read and serving its purpose 2,000 years later. As writers, it will serve us well to look at how he went about constructing this letter.

Two things pop out at me in verse one. The first is that John is writing from a firsthand experience. He’s telling the reader what he knows. As a Christian writer proclaiming God’s love and grace, I had better make sure I’ve experienced that myself. If I’m going to convince readers that faith in God is real, I had better be walking in faith. If I’m going to proclaim that prayer works, I need to be a praying Christian.

John wrote about what he knew, what he had experienced. Writers are told all the time to write what you know. It stands to reason that if you are going to write about Christ, you must know Christ. Not that you KNEW Christ—but that you KNOW him.

The second gem for writers that I discovered in this verse is John’s plan for his writing. He understood that he needed to have his readers experience what he had experienced. He would do this by telling what he had heard, what he had seen, and what he had touched.

Contemporary books on writing remind writers repeatedly to use the senses to convey their message to the reader. John knew this and relied on his senses to convey his experiences.

I can tell my reader that God speaks today or I can tell them the message I have heard through Bible reading, through a pastor, through the testimony of a reformed drug user. I may tell them how God whispered to me in my despair or how he is shouting to a declining nation.

And do I write to my readers that God heals or do I tell them about my dad’s cancer? How I watched as his body declined and wasted away; how he could no longer stand on his own. Do I inspire my reader to believe that God heals when I describe how my healthy, vivacious, optimistic dad now rises early each day and volunteers as a morning greeter for a local Christian school? How at age 80, he has a bounce in his steps that is envied by those less than half his age?

Will I tell my readers that God provides or will I describe how my hands, shaking from hunger, gripped the firm roundness of each can of vegetables as I pulled one after another from a sack of groceries left on our door?

Yes, I think John gives good advice and a model for writers. Tell your reader what you’ve heard, seen, and felt. Do this so that they, too, may believe.

God Speaks to Writers Today ©2010 Judy Vandiver
http:/www.judyvandiver.com

What a Wise Man

What a Wise Man

By Judy Vandiver

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

As I’ve been studying scriptures surrounding the birth of Jesus, I have become intrigued by the man Jesus called Daddy. The scriptures don’t give us a lot of information about Joseph, but what is recorded says much about his faith.

Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: "The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel"—which means, "God with us."

When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. (Matthew 1:19-25 NIV)

Two things I admire the most about Joseph are his faith and his obedience. He was obviously a man quite like one of his ancestors, King David, as he appeared to be a man after God’s heart. While the above verses mention that Joseph did not want to expose Mary to public disgrace, he made himself, instead, a person to be ridiculed. I imagine he suffered his own type of disgrace.

Recently one of my great-nieces was visiting her “mimi” and stated that the nativity scene was set up wrong. “Joseph is with the wise men, and he was not a wise man,” she said. Such an innocent statement, but I wondered how many times Joseph was told that very thing. How many people told him he was unwise in taking Mary to be his wife, caring for her and her child, not knowing who the father was?

It’s easy to see from scripture that Joseph had his own doubts. But, as a man of belief, he accepted the words from an angel of the Lord. He had to be wiser than many people gave him credit for. He was wise enough to recognize that the angel was a heavenly messenger. He was wise enough to know that the only path for him was in being obedient to the Lord. He was wise enough to be counted as righteous through the ages.

We know so little of Joseph, and we know so much about Joseph. He was a man of faith, an obedient follower of God, and a very wise man.

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

The Christmas Clock

The Christmas Clock

A True Story

By Judy Vandiver

      Little “Dude,” as his family called him, watched his mother as she stood in front of the mercantile admiring the beautiful eight-day striking wooden clock. She stared at it for a few moments, shook her head at the five dollar price tag then turned and walked away. It was in the late 1930’s, Christmas was coming and Dude wanted to buy that clock for his mother.

      One thing, however, stood in his way. Money. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money to buy the clock. It was that he didn’t have any money.

      A few days later Clay, a neighboring country boy, asked Dude if he had ever thought of selling his gun. Dude thought of how precious his Benjamin pump rifle was to him. He’d finally been deemed old enough to have a gun. It was an old one that his dad had found for him. He’d put his own mark on it. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was his.

      He used that gun to shoot a squirrel or rabbit and was always rewarded with a smile from his mother when he helped contribute to the dinner pot. But today, Dude could only think of the look in his mother’s eyes as she had wistfully looked in the store window.

      “I’ll take five dollars for it,” he said.

      “Five dollars? You must be crazy. I’ll give ya three bucks for it,” Clay said.

      “Five dollars.” That’s all Dude would say.

      Clay left, but returned a few days later. “I’ll give ya three fifty for that rifle,” he said.

      “Five dollars,” Dude answered.

      After several more days of trying to negotiate at four and four fifty, Clay returned with five dollars.

      Dude sold him the gun, then he went to town and bought the beautiful wooden clock in the store window.

      Christmas morning, when his mother opened her present, she cried. Together they hung the clock on the wall of her country kitchen.

      His older brothers always said they hated the clock.  “’cause Mama knew when we were coming in late.”

      So, when Mama died many years later, they all insisted that Dude have the clock. He carefully removed it from the wall of the old homestead and took it to his house. He hung it in his kitchen and thought of his Mama each time he passed it.

      Dude had demonstrated true love that Christmas. He was more concerned with what might make someone else happy than what he wanted for himself. He had acted upon a verse his mother had shared with him from John 13:35 when Jesus said, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”

      As Dude grew up, his life was one that continually showed people the love he had for them, always putting others before himself. His home became a place where family, friends and sometimes strangers could find a place to rest their head at night. He sometimes worked two or three jobs to help put food on his table and still be able to give a little something to someone else.

      He once heard of a man traveling across the United States, hand pulling a wagon. He was told that the man would stop from time to time in an area to work odd jobs, earn a little money, tell people about Jesus and move on. And, neighbors said, he was camped just outside town.

      That night, as a chilly winter storm blew in, Dude got in his pickup truck, drove around until he found the man and his wagon and brought him to his home. He and his wife, made the man comfortable in a small guest room. They cared for, visited with and fed the man for several days. Once the storm passed through, the old man was on his way, with a few extra dollars from Dude and his wife.

      I know a lot of people say everyone is only after what they can get for themselves these days, but there are lots of “Dudes” in our world.

      I heard of a woman in our town who is encountering difficulties raising three grandsons alone. Several people came together and helped her with school supplies and clothing for the boys.

      In a home near us lives a woman caring for an elderly man and two mentally handicapped men. All four came down with infectious pneumonia. Two neighbors, at the risk of their own health, took food to them.      

      Yes, there are lots of “Dudes” in this world. We may never know how many. We may never know of all their good deeds. We may never know how their love has helped someone else. But, we can try to pass a little of that same spirit on. And not just at Christmas, but every day of the year.

      Maybe you are wondering about Dude and the rifle and the clock. The clock still hangs on his kitchen wall ticking away the minutes, the hours, the days. The gun? Well, an interesting thing happened with that gun. It ended up in an old junk shop in a town several miles from where Dude was raised and hundreds of miles from where he now lived.

      One day, his wife and his sister went for a ride and happened into that old junk shop. His sister recognized the Benjamin pump rifle. It was Dude’s old gun. It still had his mark on it. Dude’s wife bought the old relic, giving a few more than five dollars for it this time. On Christmas morning, Dude, now an old man, slowly unwrapped the gift in the long skinny box that had been hidden behind the tree.

      Imagine his surprise. His wife and God, had given him his old rifle back. It now graces the wall in the same house with the clock.

      “Just think,” he said, “I got my rifle, the clock and that old boy’s five dollars. Ain’t God good.” 

The Christmas Clock - copyright 2008 by Judy Vandiver

A Goal Reached

A Goal Reached

By Judy Vandiver

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

Mom and I have talked for years about writing a cookbook. We started one a couple of years ago and set the project aside. A few months ago, I suggested we finish our goal. Today the idea of a cookbook became more than a goal. It became a reality.

Mom, Dad, and I were sipping on our coffee, thinking it would be hours before the Fedex truck arrived. Dad stepped outside then was back in a flash, with a grin across his face. “The Fedex truck is here!” he said.

The next few moments went by all too quickly. We flashed pictures, opened boxes, and celebrated. The cookbooks turned out great and we are very pleased with the result.

After Mom and Dad left and I stared at the boxes of books in the foyer, I thought about another goal I have. It is my goal to make Heaven my eternal home. I want to someday see Jesus face to face, thank Him for His sacrificial love, and worship Him forever.

Like the moments when the Fedex guy delivered the boxes, life on Earth will be over sooner than we realize. Take time today to think about your eternal goal. Take the steps needed to reach that goal. Persevere, don’t give up, and trust the Lord. He’ll lead you home.

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

The Yellow Stripe down the Middle of the Road

The Yellow Stripe down the Middle of the Road

By Judy Vandiver

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

It was a beautiful spring day as we traveled West on Texas Highway 7. The sign beside the road said, “Monk’s Lookout – 1 mile.”

“Let’s stop,” I told Steve. “I want to stretch my legs.”

Steve pulled onto the gravel drive and circled around to a lone picnic table. He, the kids, and I piled out of the car and walked to the edge of an embankment that stood above the valley below. What a breath-taking sight.

Sunlight bounced off and glowed from a blanket of wildflowers carpeting the fields of the hillside. The golden buttercups, brilliant Indian paintbrushes, and vibrant bluebonnets danced on a soft breeze. They seemed to wave at us as we towered above them.

Our eyes took in the rolling hills and dales. There were not only wildflowers, but patchworks of fields planted by local farmers. And green grasses of various hues stood as the backdrop for the amazing beauty.

All too soon, we had to get back into the car. No one said anything for a while and I assumed everyone was deep in thought about the beauty of nature, just as I was. Soon, our little David, asked, “Dad, how did God make all those flowers?”

Steve patiently told David how God had created the world and when He did, He had made seed-bearing plants.

“How did He make so many different colors?” David asked.

Steve explained that God had control of the entire world and had made it a place of beauty for us. He shared with our son the verse from Matthew 6 and used it as a lesson to teach David about God’s love.

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? (Matthew 6:28-30 NIV)

“Dad,” David asked next, “how did God make some of the land flat and some into hills?”

Steve carefully explained that God had created plates in the earth that at a specified time had shifted and moved to craft the Earth into what God wanted.

Throughout this father-son conversation, I listened, joyful that my son realized God had made the spectacular sight we had enjoyed.

Quietly, our little Melissa finally spoke up. “Well, I just want to know one thing,” she said. “Just how did God and Jesus get that yellow stripe down the middle of the road?”

All was quiet for a moment then Steve, David, and I burst into laughter.

Later, I thought about that drive along Highway 7. Melissa was very young at the time and her focus was not on the things that we saw that day. She had not been looking up. With downcast eyes, she had focused on something other than God.

I wondered how many things God had placed before me for my enjoyment, yet I had never seen them. Had I been too focused on the stripe down the middle of the road, rather than the beauty of God’s creations?

I think God’s greatest creation is not the world around us, but that we, humans, are His most remarkable handiwork. How easy it is for us to sometimes overlook the beauty in ourselves and others, while we concentrate on the yellow stripe. It’s all a matter of where our focus is. When our eyes are focused upward, we see Christ. If we focus on worldly things, all we’ll ever see is the yellow stripe down the middle of the road.

Colossians 3:1-2 says, “ Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” (NIV)

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

Someone Stole my Yellow Socks

Someone Stole my Yellow Socks

By Judy Vandiver

© Copyright 2009 by Judy Vandiver

“Someone stole my yellow socks,” my eight-year-old daughter screamed.

“Are these the same socks you have been wearing all week? The ones that could almost stand up on their own?”

“Yes, and now they are gone. Someone took them.”

“Maybe I should call the police department and report a break-in,” I told her. “Is anything else missing?”

“No, just my favorite yellow socks. Someone stole them.”

And so goes the blame game. Though this happened many years ago, it never occurred to my daughter that she might have misplaced her socks. If they were not to be found, it was someone else’s fault.

We all have a tendency to play “the blame game.” Defendants of social and hideous crimes sometimes use the defense of their upbringing. They had a bad home life, they were sexually assaulted as a child, their parents were alcoholics, or they were abandoned as a youth. It is almost always someone else’s fault.

Perhaps you have played the blame game at work. “I didn’t finish the report because I had too many interruptions. I was late this morning because a slowpoke was ahead of me on the freeway. I didn’t catch the proof-reading errors because the lighting in the office is incorrect.”

And yes, I admit I’ve played the game too. Honestly, that accident in the new van was not my fault. I rear-ended that guy because he stopped too fast in front of me, and besides, he should not have had such a long trailer hitch on his truck. In addition, the weather was bad that day.

And on and on it goes.

Adam and Eve played the blame game in the Garden of Eden. Eve blamed the serpent and Adam was quick to say, “It was that woman you gave me!” It’s so easy for us to tell God that we didn’t mean to sin, but. . . the other person started our argument. . . I didn’t know the consequences would be so hard. . . the peer pressure is too great. . .

Someday, however, each of us will stand before God and be accountable for our own sins. 1 Peter 4:5 states: “But they will have to give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead.” (NIV) and Romans 14:12 tells us, “So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God.” (NIV)

As an eight year old, we may get by with blaming someone for our missing socks; but when we stand before God, what excuse could any of us possibly give for ignoring the Son of the Most High?

We are coming into a season designed to give honor to God coming to Earth to redeem us from our sins. I pray that each of us take the time to give Him the glory that is His due. Let us not be guilty of blaming our world, our customs, our society for allowing the hustle and bustle detract from the real meaning of Christmas.

I shall be praying that you, my readers, will feel the presence of God this Christmas season deeper than you have before, and I ask that you also pray for me. We all get busy. But what a shame if we get too busy for God.

© Copyright 2009 by Judy Vandiver

Trash to Treasure

Trash to Treasure

By Judy Vandiver

©copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

They call it dumpster diving. Have you ever done it? It’s my husband’s favorite sport. He loves going through people’s trash looking for some discarded object that can be repurposed and reused. Together, we have worked on quite a few projects refurbishing what someone else might have called trash.

Here are a few examples of some of our finds and the finished projects. This first one is an old table a neighbor threw away.


What you don’t see is that prior to taking the photo, we had removed layers of old linoleum flooring that had been nailed to the top of the table.

After filling in the nail holes, sanding, painting, and applying a faux finish with a gold leaf edge, we had a very cute bedside table.






Another project was the result of seeing a cabinet in a furniture catalog. Here’s the original inspiration.

Here’s a furniture piece we found in someone’s trash. Some of the drawer fronts were missing and others broken. We removed them all, sanded on the old dresser. . .

Our finished version included cute little baskets and decorative cloths. Much cheaper than the original.


One of grandest trash to treasures was when we bought an old farmhouse.

And turned it into a cute country home. (Don’t live there anymore. We like to redo and move on.)

But I thought about the greatest trash to treasure project in my life, and it wasn’t anything my husband or I redid. It was one of God’s original restoration projects. He took this:

And made this:

Isn’t our God awesome? Thank you, Lord, for all you do in my life.

Branches from the Family Tree

Branches from the Family Tree

by Judy Vandiver

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

Last night I put up the Christmas tree in the living room. Today I put up a second one in my office. The one in the living room is pretty, but the one in my office holds special memories. No, it’s not a tree I’ve had in my home before and the ornaments are all borrowed. But what special ornaments they are.

You see, my mom let me use the photo ornaments this year. The clay ornaments, hand-made by my sister-in-law have pictures of family members from over the years. As I hung each ornament, I thought about the people in the photos and the special times we have shared. I call it “The Family Tree.”

What a delight to see old photos of my children when they were young. David and Melissa have grown up, but they’ll always be like the small children in the photos to me. I smiled at a picture of my “Uncle Boug,” and remembered how he always threatened to cut my ponytails off. Was that really over fifty years ago?

I prayed for each niece and nephew as I hung his or her ornament on the tall skinny tree. I thought of all the special Christmas celebrations with my siblings as I hung pictures of them and their spouses. I remembered the prayers of my grandparents as I tied their ornaments to the wobbly limbs. And I treasured the photos of Mom and Dad.

I’m glad I put this tree in my office and that I put it up early for “the season.” I’ll have longer to enjoy these smiling faces as I work each day in my office. As I type at my computer, it’s almost as if they are cheering me on. I know each one has prayed for me with my writing and will continue to do so. And isn’t that what families are about? Being there for each other, standing beside one another, praying for each one.

I thought about Jesus’ Family Tree. If there were picture ornaments on it, He might have hung a photo of Abraham, King David, Boaz, and even Rahab. Then a very dear friend and fellow writer, Barbara Oden, reminded me that He would have our pictures on there too, because we are His family. We share the same Heavenly Father. He’s my big brother. And each of you who have accepted Christ as your Savior are my brothers and sisters.

So, as I look at the ornaments on my tree and say a prayer for each one, I’ll ask God to bring my Christian family to my mind. As He does, I’ll also say a prayer for each of you.

“He replied, ‘My mother and brothers are those who hear God's word and put it into practice.’" (Luke 8:21 NIV)

© copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

by Judy Vandiver

©copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

One Sabbath Jesus was going through the grainfields, and his disciples began to pick some heads of grain, rub them in their hands and eat the kernels. Some of the Pharisees asked, "Why are you doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath?"

Jesus answered the, "Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? He entered the house of God, and taking the consecrated bread, he ate what is lawful only for priests to eat. And he also gave some to his companions." Then Jesus said to them, "The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath." (Luke 6:1-5 NIV)

As I read the verses above, I thought how the Pharisees thought they had all the answers on how one was to live spiritually and please God. They believed they had it all figured out. And yet, because of their interpretation of God's commands, they didn't recognize the one who gave the commands when He was in their midst.

Many years ago, I taught a group of fourth and fifth grade students in Sunday School. One Sunday, I had them help me rearrange the room. I told them that we had to face a certain direction so God would hear our prayers. I told them that they had to pray a certain way. I kept adding rule after rule after rule. Finally, the students began to question me, which is exactly what I wanted them to do. Then together we sat on the floor and read what God said about prayer. I reminded them that regardless of who told them something was the way a Christian would act or something a Christian would or should do, that the only true authority was God himself. I told them that any instruction they received outside of God's word had to be confirmed in His word. Otherwise, it was no more than what the Pharisees did. It was simply making up rules.

Not only did the Pharisees interpret God's word to fit their rules, they tried hard to make the Creator himself fit their rules. They insisted that Jesus do things their way. It reminds me of a parent setting boundaries and rules for a child and the child twisting and turning the words until it fits what they want. In addition, the child then tries to make the parents follow their interpretation of those rules. As a parent, I can almost laugh at this idea. But as a child of God, it becomes a different situation.

Do I ever try to interpret God's rules to allow me to do what I want? I'm sure I've been guilty of it. Does God call me down on it? Many times He has and I pray that He will continue to do so.

I read something recently that talked about the passage above. The writer spoke about how the Pharisees were looking for an excuse to accuse Jesus. The author warned that we should listen with an open heart and accept the messages in our churches, rather than be as critical as the Pharisees were. However, I also believe that we should do as I tried to instruct my Sunday School class years ago. Don't accept every word you hear, even if it's from an established teacher, preacher, or well-known Christian. Ask yourself if God's word confirms what you hear. Ask yourself if what the speaker or author says contradicts the word of God. Be diligent in studying God's words so you know the truth and you know the half-truths.


Here's a verse of scripture that I consider very wise instruction: "To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them." (Isaiah 8:20 KJV)

Many of you, no doubt, know the story of Jim Jones and the many people who blindly followed him, doing what they were told, even to the point of mass suicide. In 1978, more than 900 people drank poisoned kool-aid because they followed a man rather than God. The Bible warns us that many false prophets will preach empty words that sound good. Apparently, Jim Jones was one of them.

1 John 4:1 says, "Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world." (NIV) My personal paraphrase of this is, "Don't drink the kool-aid." It is my desire that none of us be deceived and all of us follow what the Lord has commanded.

©copyright 2009 Judy Vandiver

Just Don't Let Go

I am please to share a devotional by a guest blogger today, Melissa Phelan. This is her first devotional and I am very proud of her. Melissa is my daughter and along with God, I won’t let go of her. I’m glad she has learned to see God in the everyday moments of life, letting Him speak to and encourage her. (Judy)

Just Don’t Let Go

By Melissa Phelan

©Copyright 2009 Melissa Phelan

I lay in my bed tonight pondering the wonderful day I had with my boys. I could not help but think that I wouldn’t have received a special joy of the day if I were not divorced. Sounds silly, I know!

As I pulled in my driveway from picking Dustin up at school, I told him, "Today’s the Day." He looked at me with confusion. I said, “Let’s get in that garage, take off those training wheels and learn to ride that bike without them.

"Sure" he said. We tried this about 5 months ago and he couldn't get the hang of it. But today, we went into the garage together and he sat next to me on the floor as I took off the training wheels. It was kind of neat doing it together. Dustin watched me and I felt an excitement for both of us as I managed to get the wheels off. He grabbed them and tossed them aside and I saw determination on his face. He was ready to do this.

He ran into the house and grabbed a pair of gloves, tugging them on as he came running back outside. He jumped on his bike, looked back at me and said, "Just don't let go, Mom."

“I won't let go until you’re ready,” I told him. I gave his bike a push, hanging on and running forward for a few car lengths. “I won't let go, but you’re doing it," I yelled.

“I know. I know. I can do it, it’s ok, Mom," Dustin said.

I let go but kept running next to him. "Look, I am not holding you. You’re doing it all by yourself," I said.

"I know. I know," Dustin continued to say as a smile beamed across his face.

I continued to run beside him. I started clapping for him. I was so happy inside. Finally, I told him I was going to stop running.

“That will be alright, Mom. I’ll be okay.”

I watched him continue for another two or three car lengths then yelled for him to just put his foot on the ground when he wanted to stop. I watched as he put his foot down and the bike fell to the ground - but Dustin didn’t. We were both so happy.

We spent the next few hours together. I taught him how to stop without the bike falling and without my help. Then I taught him how to start without holding on to me. The first time he did it, I watched as he came down the street with a grin as if he was so proud but was trying to contain it.

It was so AWESOME!!!! I was so PROUD!!!! Later I taught him to turn around without stopping the bike to get off. Then we sat on the curb and I taught him how to flip the bike over and fix his chain that had come off. We got greasy, but it was bonding and a mom’s moment. Then Dustin went and got his older brother’s bike, which is little bigger. He hopped on it and took off. I beamed inside and out!

Soon Tyler, who still refused to learn to ride a bike, came outside to see what Dustin had accomplished. He said he wanted his bike back.

"But you won't ride it," I told him.

He told me he wanted to learn now. He took his bike, got on, and it only took him about 2 minutes, but without my help was off and riding. I couldn't believe it. WOW! WOW! I was thrilled.

Tyler decided my bike was better suited for him and Dustin likes Tyler’s better. I don't mind. Hey, they are all riding as if they have been doing it for years. At 8:00 pm, I finally made them come inside for the night. It had become dark at 6pm. But I stayed outside with them the whole time. I didn't want to miss anything. They rode for 4 hours. I can't get over it.

So, as I lay in my bed pondering the day, I am utterly on a high! So happy and proud of my boys! Then I thought that if I was still married, my now-ex should have been the one to do all that. Taking off the training wheels, running with Dustin, showing him how to fix his chain. He would have received that joy, that precious bonding intimate time. I'm glad I got that all to myself. It was moving for me and something I will always remind the boys of.

So, I guess today showed me that divorce isn't all bad times. God has always been there holding on to me as I yell, "Just don't let go. Just don't let go," even though he knows I can do it. I won't let go of God and He won't let go of me, but there are some things I needed to let go and I haven't wanted to. I know it will be ok if I do. God will still be there running next to me. I may fall but I will get right back up.

©Copyright 2009 Melissa Phelan

The Baby Time Forgot

The Baby Time Forgot

by Judy Vandiver

She took my hand and led me to the far northeast corner of the old cemetery.  Kneeling down she began to pull weeds from a small unmarked grave. “This is where we buried him,” she said. I dropped to my knees and joined my small childish hands with her old creased ones and helped her clear the grave. 

            “Such a small grave,” I thought.  “Tell me about him, grandma,” I pleaded. 

            “It was in the late 1930’s and I already had six children. He was my seventh child. His birth was not easy and I struggled for two days in labor with him. The doctor came from town and stayed at the house. He didn’t give much hope for me or the baby. Finally, however, a little baby boy was born. He cried once, and then stopped.

            “Blue baby” are the words I remember hearing the doctor whisper to Grandpa."

            “What is a blue baby?” I asked.

            “Well, it seems my baby boy was not getting enough oxygen. This caused his skin to take on a bluish look.  He didn’t live long and he died in my arms.”

            The doctor told Grandpa that I didn’t have much of a chance of survival either. I wanted to go and be with my new baby, but I also knew that I had six other children depending on me. I prayed and I willed my body to fight back. When the doctor returned several days later, he was surprised to find me still alive. Another week passed and the doctor brought his wife to see me. 

            “I wanted my wife to see a miracle,” he said. “It is only by God’s intervention that you are still alive.” 

            “A part of me, however,” continued my grandmother as she yanked at some wayward dandelions, “was buried here years ago with my tiny baby son.” Continuing to pull the wild plants, I noticed that she carefully left a twisted and rampant honey-suckle vine. 

            Grandma continued to tell me more about this baby that had been my dad’s brother. I remember so much of what she told me, but the one thing I do not remember is the name she gave the baby. 

            More than 40 years after the death of her baby, my grandmother finally joined her son in heaven. One day recently, I asked my dad and his remaining siblings about the blue baby. Most of them had forgotten all about the little brother, and of those who did remember, no one could recall his name or where he was buried. 

            I drove four hours back to the old homestead and made my way to the old cemetery. Something inside me yearned to clear the weeds I was sure had grown over the grave. I tromped to the northeast corner, next to the graves skirting the edge of the woods. Suddenly it was twenty years earlier and my grandma held my hand.

            “It’s just over here in the corner,” she said. 

            I listened for her voice. I tried to follow her footsteps. But I couldn’t find the wild honey-suckle vines or the grave.  It seemed that time had stolen the memories that remained of this nameless relative. I imagine that a few generations from mine will have totally forgotten the blue baby. 

            “And what of me?” I thought. Will future generations know who I was or what I did with my life?” I thought of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes. "All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth? So I saw that there is nothing better for a man than to enjoy his work, because that is his lot. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?” In that same chapter, Solomon also tells us that God has set eternity in the hearts of men.

             The promise of eternity with God, even in light of the fact that those who follow after us may not remember us or know much about us, calls us to be faithful. Like the baby that time forgot, future generations may not recall my name, but the work that I do for the Lord, will have everlasting effects. It is for this reason that I strive to do the Lord’s will and that I pray for those who will follow after me to also remain devoted to God. 

            Dear Lord, please let me live in a way that will bring glory to your name. Though I may be forgotten in time, may what I do help to promote you so that your words will never be forgotten or lost to future generations. Speak to those who come after me that they may know the same love of the Father that I know.

The Baby Time Forgot - copyright 2007 by Judy Vandiver

Adopted

Adopted 

by Judy Vandiver

Several hours passed as I sat on the uncomfortable bench in the courtroom of the Family Law Center. The somber judge, with slightly graying hair and an official black robe, called case after case to his bench.

The situations varied. A mother requested child support; a couple filed for divorce; vandalism of a person’s property. The court reporter’s face seemed unchanging and emotionless as she did her job. Complainants and defendants wore looks of fatigue and despair.

Finally, the case I had been waiting for was called to the bench. My son David, his wife Michele, and her thirteen-year-old son Alex, moved through a small swinging gate. Their lawyer placed a petition to adopt before the judge.

Before the adoption could proceed, it was necessary to terminate the rights of Alex’s biological father. Alex could not have two fathers. He would have to belong to one or the other.

Testimony was given to show that the natural father had not shown love and concern for the child. After deliberation, the judge wiped out the ties between Alex and his birth father. At that point, Alex had no father.

David took a step forward and said, “I wish to adopt Alex. I want to make him mine.”

Again, the lawyer spoke up giving witness to the home study and background check the state had completed on David, proving him trustworthy and someone who would be a faithful father to Alex.

The judge questioned David, Michele, and Alex, asking Alex what he wanted. Alex turned his eyes to David and said, “I want to be his son.”

A stranger would decide the legal fate of these three people who already considered themselves a family. The courtroom held its collective breath. I glanced at the court reporter. Her face glowed. The judge smiled and said, “I now pronounce you Father and Son.”

The spell on the courtroom was broken as whispers again floated in the air. Did the whole room cheer or was it only my heart singing?

The once stone-faced judge grinned as he ordered a new birth certificate to be issued for Alex, proclaiming David as his father and decreeing that Alex and David’s last name would be the same.

Tears washed my cheeks and I offered thanks to God for the wonderful blessing of Alex. I could feel God’s presence as we emerged from the courthouse. And that’s when God reminded me that I was also adopted years ago when he made me part of his family. 

I compared my spiritual adoption with what had taken place in the courtroom.

 David initiated the process of adopting Alex - God made the first move toward me, before I knew Him.

My ties to the father of lies had to be terminated before God could be proclaimed my true Father. 

Like Alex, I received a new birth certificate and my name was recorded in Heaven.

I was reminded of what another David wrote long ago–words God had spoken to him. “He said to me, ‘You are my son; today I have become your Father.’” (Psalm 2:6b)  

Adopted - copyright 2007 by Judy Vandiver

The Naming of a Grandmother

The Naming of a Grandmother

by Judy Vandiver

Several years ago, as my husband and I eagerly waited for our sixth grandchild to arrive, my son and his wife tried to pick out baby names. My son asked if there were any family names I might suggest. I reminded him that his great grandmother had named her second child Omega, hoping it would be the last". She went on to have five more children," I explained, "so there might not be much to this naming thing."

I know I should have shown more interest in the names suggested, but of far more concern to me was what the baby would eventually call me. While the parents may pick out a baby's name, the baby will often name the grandparents whatever they choose. I am currently known as Nana, Mom-Mom, Manny and Chicken-Nana. I was a little dubious about the name "Chicken-Nana" until I learned that this grandchild referred to the other grandmother as "Dead-Nana." I have since grown fond of the name "Chicken-Nana." My own parents were named Louisi-nana, Tractor Paw-Paw, Papa, and Pa-Two (as opposed to Pa-One.)

When my sister contemplated what she wanted her granddaughter to call her she finally came up with a childhood nickname the family used for her and asked to be called, "Mimi." Her husband said that since kids sometimes rhyme the names of grandmothers and grandfathers, he wanted to make it clear that he was not to be call "Peepee."

So what names would I choose for my grandchildren to call me? I think I would most like the name friend. I pray that I can always live up to that name and be a friend physically, mentally, and spiritually to each grandchild. And I pray that it will be a while yet before I become known as "Dead Nana."




Pictures of my two grandmothers:
Left: "Maimeau" was born Eva Etoile McCann and was known by many simply as "Miss Eva."








Right: "Momo" was born Valley Eva Reed. Here she is with six of her children. (Omega is in the brown plaid pants and my dad is peeking over his mother's shoulder with the red ball cap perched on his head.)

Below: My six grandchildren. That last grandchild is the one and only sweet little girl on the bench. (We might be from Texas, but those are not real guns.)

The Naming of a Grandmother - copyright 2005 by Judy Vandiver

I Come to the Garden Alone - Part Seven

I Come to the Garden Alone

Part Seven

By Judy Vandiver

 Last week, as I sat in the garden having morning devotions, I read from Luke chapter two.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. (Luke 2:8-9 NIV)

I have always pictured a glow around the angel of the Lord, but these verses said the glory of the Lord shone around the shepherds. I tried to visually picture what that must have looked like. No wonder the shepherds were afraid. Seeing an angel would be frightening enough, but to be bathed in God’s glory, to have that glory actually shine around them, was enough to terrify them.

About that time, my husband snuck outside and snapped a picture of me. Later, when I downloaded the photos on my camera to my computer, a surprise greeted me. It wasn’t the fact that he had taken my picture, but that God had hidden another lesson for me in my garden. The lesson was invisible to me in the garden, but the snapshot had captured another God moment.

A single shaft of pure sunlight shone directly on my Bible. Tears spilled onto my desk as I realized God’s glory had shone upon His word as I sat in my garden. I marveled at the blessings that overflowed from His heart to mine. I thought how when we read the Holy Scriptures, it is only with the illumination of God that we understand them.

Several verses came to my mind.

For the LORD gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. (Proverbs 2:6 NIV)

For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light. (Psalm 36:9 NIV)

But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said: "Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you."(Ephesians 5:13-14 NIV)

What an amazing God we serve. More times than we realize, He illustrates His truth in nature, in everyday occurrences, and this week, through a snapshot. 

I called for Steve to come see the picture. He, too, was awed by what God showed us in the photograph. He said, “I was afraid that it was too bright out there. I thought the sun might get in the way.”

“No,” I responded, “The Son never gets in the way.”

Personal Study Questions:

1. In what ways has God exposed you to the light of His word?
2. What blessings have you received from God as he directs your daily path?
3. What surprise revelations has God given you through nature?
4. As you read the Bible, ask God to shed light and understanding on His word.
5. Choose one or more of the three scriptures above. Meditate on it, then memorize it.

Copyright 2009 by Judy Vandiver