She was not virginal in her purity. Not completely. Not like the younger maidens working near her to glean in the master’s field. She had been married before; she had been known.
And she came to him in the dead of night, where he rested, in obedience to her mother-in-law’s advice. Advice that put her in a very prone position. He could choose to further mar her reputation or he could choose to respectfully protect it.
And he could have chosen another woman from among so many. A younger woman. A non-foreign woman. A richer woman. A previously-unmarried woman.
But he saw her. And he chose her. And he protected her with his own robe, his own presence, and later his own follow-up actions. Until he could bring her home as his bride.
The woman he loved. The woman he saw as beautiful and pure. The one he had been waiting his whole life to meet and cherish.
Today, in honor of this couple and the renewal of physical purity through the eyes of love, a third short poem.
Next in this series on purity, we pause to consider the power of beauty via emotional purity. According to Genesis 12, Sarah was exceptionally physically beautiful, even as she aged. Yet, she is more fondly remembered and rightly praised in 1 Peter 3 for her projected image of one with a gentle and quiet spirit, living in a proper and good sense of humility and obedience. Certainly she laughed and doubted and jumped the gun. But in the end, she learned how to master her feelings and accept her assigned place in life with hope.
This sounds foreign to me as a modern American woman. But when I dig deeper, I see this is not just an antiquated cultural demand. No. According to Peter, such submission shines from a pure heart, from an honest-core self that wants good and chooses service for the sake of those who are loved. Will there be fear, negative reactions, and mistakes? Yes. But inner beauty lights a woman’s face and shines through the storms of life (and marriage) like low car beams glowing through a dark, snowy drive.
We do not know exactly what Sarah looked like physically. But it doesn’t really matter. We know the essence of her heart: a much more enduring legacy.
Growing up, I quickly came under the impression that the central focus of purity as a virtue had to do with sexual chastity or keeping one’s body and thoughts clean and unblemished in that area of life. While that certainly is important to consider, especially in our evermore-desensitized culture, I now stand on the cusp of marriage in these last few weeks of singlehood and ponder what it will mean to approach my husband as a pure bride in each sense of my person: spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically.
In that light, four times over the course of this month, I want to share a piece of word art and a short poem to highlight the life of each of four different women from the Bible. In each case, focusing on one of those aspects, I hope to think differently about who they were, who I am, and who each of us (men and women alike) is meant to be.
So, this time, I begin with the mother of all mankind. Not the first woman who usually comes to mind when we think of spiritual purity, is she?
Today, I want to share a bit more about diligence through the concept of BALANCE.
We often think of people who practice diligence as being workaholics, or at least so focused on getting more work done that they don’t know how to relax. Sometimes women who care tirelessly for their families or who feel driven to prove their worth in a certain career field fall into such a category. To the outside observer, they simply don’t know when to stop.
But the beauty of a truly diligent woman is found in one who knows how to work hard and well and also how to rest her heart and renew her body and soul.
I have known a number of such women in my life. Today, I would briefly like to describe two of them.
In one of my childhood communities, a woman and her family were long time members of our church. She had taught the youngest children in Sunday School for years and kept many children in her tiny house each weekday through a humble in-home daycare operation. By the time I met her, she was already a biological grandmother, but so many people in the surrounding area lovingly called her “grandma” too. I used to think she just worked all the time and never stopped, never slowed down.
BUT then, one weekend, my parents had to got out of town and they dropped me off at her house as a safe place to stay. It just so happened that weekend there was a bad winter storm so she and I were promptly stuck inside the house from Friday night onward. Early on Saturday morning, we got up and tackled several household chores. Yet, after a delicious, hearty lunch, she surprised me by declaring it was time to rest. And rest we did. She threw blankets in the dryer until they were toasty-warm. We wrapped ourselves and fluffy pillows up in them in side-by-side recliners and watched classic western reruns while fading in and out of naps for the next four hours. It was a sweet, drowsy day like I had rarely known. And while the wind and storm raged outside, I felt no fear nor worry. Only peace.
In my grad school community, I was honored to study under an advisor who had both personal and professional standards of excellence, yet who was immensely approachable and caring. She seemed to work endlessly to rework courses, meet with students, supervise interns, and complete writing projects.
BUT then, she surprised me one day when she told our research class about a family tradition. She and her husband (also a diligent worker) always dropped everything on Friday nights to make homemade pizza together while enjoying classic operatic recordings. More recently, he infant grandson had started staying with them on weekends and he would sit is his little seat and join in the fun. She spoke of that relaxing time with such joy, I could clearly see how it rejuvenated her.
I wrote of these two women in the past tense just now as I remembered them in those moments. But they are both still living, and I still love each of them. Thank you, Donna Hardy and Cheri Pierson, for teaching me the importance of balancing hard work with beautiful rest.
This month, I will just post twice, with two brief discussions on diligence. Talk about a virtue-word that sounds antiquated…and one that is so easy to misconstrue. Yet, has there ever been a time when we needed a greater appreciation for diligent people–and a greater understanding of what diligence is?
Today, I will mention two people who reflected wisdom about this topic as WORK in their own lives, one in what he wrote and one in how he lived.
The first is King Solomon, said to be the wisest man who ever lived. In the annals of his wisdom recorded for us, we find a lot of helpful tidbits to describe the diligent worker. Here are a few. Such a person is willing to work steadily for a long time to reach his goal or earn his due (Prov. 21:5). He shows himself faithful and true in both his actions and his words while he does his work (Prov. 12:14). He (shock of all shocks) actually works and is not afraid to dive in (Prov. 14:23)! She doesn’t wait around for someone else to wait on her but she gets up and faces even the hard tasks with what strength God gives her (Prov. 31:17). His soul is well-fed, nourished and satisfied (Prov. 13:4).
Solomon knew these things and recorded them. But he was royalty, rich at material levels many of us can only dream of, even from his early years.
The second is a person known only as Timothy, a young man potentially raised primarily (or even only) by his mother and grandmother. Yet, years later, words written to him by a mentor paint a picture for us of the diligent man Timothy must have been. We see in him a person who sought to do his work at above-reproach levels and who paid close attention to his personal growth so that he could seek to always continue progressing (1 Tim. 4:15-16). And he earned the honor he received because he was not afraid to stand up and be an honorable example for others (1 Tim. 4:12, 5:17). All of this sprung out from that mentor’s early confidence in the diligent, honorable man Timothy could become with meaningful support. What (or rather who) the mentor diligently invested in gave a good return.
Timothy learned about these things and took them to heart. And, as we see that he lived them out while showing no particular signs of living with any great financial means, we are reminded from his life that diligence does not always lead to material wealth. But, when consistently pursued, it should lead to a fruitful and honorable life.
Among modern songwriters, one of my favorites by far is Jon Foreman. Many of his themes center around the journey of and battle in the human heart when that heart comes, surrendering, face to face with the Grace that longs to embrace it.
He writes of deep and honest emotions, sometimes daring to pen lines about things and thoughts we would rather not acknowledge or discuss. He writes of precious love born out of honorable intentions. He writes of internal workings anyone who has lived with awareness long enough can somehow innately understand.
And to hear him speak in recordings, I get the sense that while he is a very talented musician, he is also a really humble, average, approachable man. A man who has been embraced by the compassion he often refers to, the Grace that flows through his music. It has shaped him well over the years.
While I was preparing to wrap up this month of blog posts, I came across one of his songs that has moved me deeply time and time again.
I love the words which remind me that none of us can truly ever be compassionate until we remember that it is only God’s compassion which is our model for being compassionate… even though He has more of a right than anyone else to be our judge and to demand that we stop judging others unfairly. It is His compassion which can turn our hearts around, melt them, and reshape them into hearts that beat more like His.
As I began the month with Christ, so I end it with the Trinity: still our best source of compassion. Father, forgive us when we lack mercy. Jesus, teach us when we need multiple lessons in understanding Your heart. Spirit, help us in our weakness. Amen.
In an age where most people around me are terrified of getting sick to the point that they stare me down in judgement when I am not greatly concerned, I can only shake my head at the irony. For the wider public is appealed to: that we must conform to standards for the greater good. I find this ironic because it essentially strips us of the will to choose compassion. Yes: compassion for the greater good, but also compassion for ourselves and our loved ones if the mandates issued are not best for us in our individual situations.
Love and compassion are things we choose. There is no law against them. And likewise, they cannot be mandated by any law.
The word art shared today highlights a quotation from a man who knew great challenges and even physical limitations. Yet, he did not allow what he lacked to suffocate what he hoped for. And his life experiences as well as his ongoing quest for knowledge produced in him a blend of compassion and deeply provoking thoughts.
Was he perfect? No. He seems to have had his vices. But I believe the power of his quoted words here stems from the idea that when we choose compassion — when we choose to think deeply of where we and others are coming from and when we choose to consider any negative ramifications of our actions and choices — that will often help us to keep negative impulses in check.
(In that light, I am particularly honored that my novel, TheVoiceofMelody, earned one of the 2020 Eric Hoffer Awards for Historical Fiction. Especially when a few of the novel’s characters repeatedly chose compassion, choices which later proved to counter toxic situations and people.)
A second profile for this month points us to the life of an ordinary man who is still remembered for his extraordinary compassion nearly eight hundred years after his death.
I am no extreme contributor to the modern environmental protection movement, and I don’t think that the lives of animals are any more valuable than the lives of humans. But I do appreciate how Francis placed great emphasis on showing compassion to every living thing whenever possible.
I do not believe that every follower of Jesus is called to live in abject poverty without a single added worldly belonging. But I do appreciate how Francis placed great emphasis on living a simple life so that we might have clearer vision with which to follow our compassionate Savior and see the needs of our fellow humans.
I am not thrilled over the fact that some people have had to languish in prison, especially as prisoners of war. But I do appreciate how Francis’ own experience as a prisoner of war likely contributed to his deeper compassion for others and his tender heart being open to God’s leading afterward.
In the life of this man, so many centuries later, I see several lessons. True compassion is not based on the size or popular worth of the being to whom it is extended; rather, it is based on the degree of pure generosity flowing from the feeling soul of the giver. Such compassion springs up in the eyes and hearts of those who know Jesus and love Him. And it is so often borne more deeply out of the heart which has suffered, grieved, and known true darkness.
When we face trouble or when we have less, we always have a choice: will we lay down and give up, march on while stewing in anger and bitterness, or turn our face to the Son and reflect His light of empathetic goodness into the world?
Let us be like Francis in how he was like Jesus. Let us choose the way of love-fueled compassion whenever possible.
I am belatedly starting a month of posts about a much-needed but often presently-misunderstood virtue, a month that will feature more emphasis on word art expression than on extensively-written words.
I begin the very best place I know to begin: with my Jesus. And with these hymn lyrics by Charles Wesley.
Jesus was certainly filled with everything from sorrow to righteous anger at various times. And He certainly came filled with truth. But it was His completely balanced perspective of the limited human condition overlaid by His divine understanding of our needs that made (and still makes) Him the most supreme example of what compassion really looks like.
Let us strive to study His ways and emulate them in our own lives. ❤
Bit by bit, the more earnest wedding planning has begun. Ordering, shopping, sending, reserving. It’s amazing how many details there are to attend to when the guest list is tiny and the arrangements will ride the modest-simple end of the wave. But while the details of the day will be minimal, every detail of the service will be intentional.
Paul (my suitor-turned-fiance) and I sat in my living room yesterday discussing the words scrawled across a humble notebook sheet. I had started drafting part of our unique wedding vows and welcomed his feedback before he added parts of his own.
Funny, how both the drafting process and receiving his feedback affected my heart.
Later, we tossed around ideas for hymns and scripture passages we would also like to include. As we read New Testament teachings on marital relationships, I was further moved.
I have frequently heard people claim that the idea of requiring a wife’s submission in all things is old-fashioned and barbaric, centered in chauvinism. But when I looked at the deeper essence of the teaching and what I was trying to express in the vows, I was struck by how much honor is needed and how it is so strongly defined on both sides of the relational equation.
Men, your wife needs you to desire to live honorably. To embrace integrity and strength but temper them with love and thoughtfulness. To be as trustworthy as you can be. To protect her physically and emotionally. To actively set “we” before “me.”
She needs you to pray for her, to pray she will always seek the honorable in you.
Ladies, your husband needs you to desire to live honorably. To address issues in a straightforward and kind way, without nagging and dragging around a record of wrongs. To believe in his potential and always hope for his best. To trust him and be trustworthy in return. To support him when the world or his doubts would knock him down.
He needs you to pray for him, to pray that God will give him the strength to remain honorable.
If each spouse would work hard to treat the other honorably in such ways, perhaps fewer marriages would look like a two-person tug of war and more marriages would look like a stone pillar with a slightly-uneven top, where the two-as-one are only somewhat independently discernible.
Easy? No.
Beautiful? Yes.
I, for one, will set down my drafting pen and raise a piece of my imaginary future reception glassware in a toast. Toanhonorablemarriage. And I will pray like crazy, every day, for my beloved.
