To my (grand) Mother Lois
Mom Lois used to say, "We are of the Kingston Russells." To which I would respond, "do you mean the Russell family lived in Kingston (Ontario)?" "Yes. We had relatives there. Grandma (Leda) used to visit them and stayed with them when she was going to music school in Toronto (around the turn of the 20th century).
I looked at the map. Did Grandma take the train? And, if so, why didn't she just take the train from London to Toronto? Ah well... Maybe it was true. And then I found this.. http en wikipedia dot org wiki Kingston Russell. Is that what they meant by the particular phrasing that she often repeated?
We are still at a time in which, "WHO" and "WHAT" you are, to some, means so much. ? who knows ?
Friends would say to me, "Oh I WISH I could see Benny Hinn (and others) before I die!"
On one hand, I know they were speaking from a point of great emotional poverty of spirit and devastating abuse and trying to learn to have courage to walk out of their hole.
I wondered but did not say, "Is that really appropriate? I mean aren't we to be encouraged by and learn strength from the various aspects of sound Christian principles that are taught from various leaders but to look at them honestly? Meat and Bones, I was taught. Mom Lois gently taught my black and white mind to stretch around principles. A "blue" violet might actually look purple. It took me years to wrap my mind around that concept. And what's with this "Man in the Moon"? All I could see was a leopard or panther or something. Through my mother I learned of certain missionaries who dressed as natives of the peoples they were reaching. Some chose to learn the inner concepts of the language and culture before translating. Some disagreed or did not understand. Never heard of sheep? Some chose to look at what animal in their culture could most closely represent the concept behind the sheep before the words of the Chief Shepherd were translated. Each missionary was misunderstood. Each had those they encouraged. All, cut from the same clay, made mistakes. As have my parents. As have I.
Amy Carmichael, when faced with great difficulty and misunderstanding by the "Christian" community in the area where she ministered wrote the following: 'The Calm Community of the Criticized'. If you type in her name then Calm Community of the Criticized you can find the poem.
I have worked and volunteered in places where I have served or been exposed to various populations of the "disenfranchised". When the need to see "Benny Hinn" was expressed, I prayed, "Lord, I don't want to see Benny Hinn before I die. Please allow me to see and meet the little woman who mops floors for a living and who kneels every night in prayer, faithfully. It may be someone who no one knows is doing these things. Someone that only you see and understand their heart and what is going on. That is who I want to meet, Lord. Please bring them across my path.
Short days later, I walked from my office towards a nursing station. A man stood with two armed guards chained and close at each elbow. His hands were handcuffed. Heavy chains connected manacles at ankles and wrists. They rattled, discordantly, at every move.
My heart was deeply warmed. I wanted to throw my arms around him and welcome him and tell him what the Lord had shown me so that he would know he was not alone. Shame? Wisdom? Fear? prevented me from doing so in front of my boss. I still wish I had had the courage to acknowledge him.
I am reminded of a story I heard about Chuck Colson when he visited a prison in (perhaps) Brazil?. This is my paraphrase as I recall it. Chuck marveled at the liberty with which many of the prisoners lived within the confines of the building and grounds. A sense of order pervaded and a somber humility. Finishing a tour of the rest of the prison, Chuck said he wanted to visit solitary confinement. One person, he had been told, chose to take on the sentence of the others and would remain in solitary confinement for the rest of his life. Resolved and with a great sense of urgency, he approached. Indeed, he saw one person. A life-sized, carved wooden statue of Jesus on the cross carefully lit, paid the price.
I, too, received a sentence of death. I, too, have caused much harm. I, too, could have been that person locked and chained
He who is forgiven much, loves much. Patiently He lead me through the valley of the shadow I had chosen. Carefully, he guided. Into the valley. Up river and down dale. Through sharp crevasse and sleepy meadow. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend."
"Susan, when you have a girl, you need to discipline your emotions." I heard in the early 1980s. I thought He meant that I would have a girl. But no. He took this child gravely wounded. Scoffed and troubled. Like a cat caught in an alley I was in some points of my life. Maybe you, too, bear the scars from me during that that time period. If so, I am truly sorry. Finally, I understand.
Though I sought for help from many areas, it has only been HE, my gentle Savior, who has had the courage, patience, tenacity and love to graciously lead me from the shadow of death into this time.
I thank you, gracious Savior, for your steadfast mercy and your tender love.
I thank you, Mother Lois, for your wise and gentle guidance. "Knowing" my tendency towards the security of the absolutes, you imparted truth, step by step, in a way that I not only could learn from, but, finally, understand.
II Timothy 1:3-8 unfeigned faith: my (grand) Mother Lois
I thank you, Mom, for your obedience to the Lord in how you reached out to me even in the most troubled of times. There were many. Thanks, too, for your part in teaching me along this journey. And for your love.
I looked at the map. Did Grandma take the train? And, if so, why didn't she just take the train from London to Toronto? Ah well... Maybe it was true. And then I found this.. http en wikipedia dot org wiki Kingston Russell. Is that what they meant by the particular phrasing that she often repeated?
We are still at a time in which, "WHO" and "WHAT" you are, to some, means so much. ? who knows ?
Friends would say to me, "Oh I WISH I could see Benny Hinn (and others) before I die!"
On one hand, I know they were speaking from a point of great emotional poverty of spirit and devastating abuse and trying to learn to have courage to walk out of their hole.
I wondered but did not say, "Is that really appropriate? I mean aren't we to be encouraged by and learn strength from the various aspects of sound Christian principles that are taught from various leaders but to look at them honestly? Meat and Bones, I was taught. Mom Lois gently taught my black and white mind to stretch around principles. A "blue" violet might actually look purple. It took me years to wrap my mind around that concept. And what's with this "Man in the Moon"? All I could see was a leopard or panther or something. Through my mother I learned of certain missionaries who dressed as natives of the peoples they were reaching. Some chose to learn the inner concepts of the language and culture before translating. Some disagreed or did not understand. Never heard of sheep? Some chose to look at what animal in their culture could most closely represent the concept behind the sheep before the words of the Chief Shepherd were translated. Each missionary was misunderstood. Each had those they encouraged. All, cut from the same clay, made mistakes. As have my parents. As have I.
Amy Carmichael, when faced with great difficulty and misunderstanding by the "Christian" community in the area where she ministered wrote the following: 'The Calm Community of the Criticized'. If you type in her name then Calm Community of the Criticized you can find the poem.
I have worked and volunteered in places where I have served or been exposed to various populations of the "disenfranchised". When the need to see "Benny Hinn" was expressed, I prayed, "Lord, I don't want to see Benny Hinn before I die. Please allow me to see and meet the little woman who mops floors for a living and who kneels every night in prayer, faithfully. It may be someone who no one knows is doing these things. Someone that only you see and understand their heart and what is going on. That is who I want to meet, Lord. Please bring them across my path.
Short days later, I walked from my office towards a nursing station. A man stood with two armed guards chained and close at each elbow. His hands were handcuffed. Heavy chains connected manacles at ankles and wrists. They rattled, discordantly, at every move.
My heart was deeply warmed. I wanted to throw my arms around him and welcome him and tell him what the Lord had shown me so that he would know he was not alone. Shame? Wisdom? Fear? prevented me from doing so in front of my boss. I still wish I had had the courage to acknowledge him.
I am reminded of a story I heard about Chuck Colson when he visited a prison in (perhaps) Brazil?. This is my paraphrase as I recall it. Chuck marveled at the liberty with which many of the prisoners lived within the confines of the building and grounds. A sense of order pervaded and a somber humility. Finishing a tour of the rest of the prison, Chuck said he wanted to visit solitary confinement. One person, he had been told, chose to take on the sentence of the others and would remain in solitary confinement for the rest of his life. Resolved and with a great sense of urgency, he approached. Indeed, he saw one person. A life-sized, carved wooden statue of Jesus on the cross carefully lit, paid the price.
I, too, received a sentence of death. I, too, have caused much harm. I, too, could have been that person locked and chained
He who is forgiven much, loves much. Patiently He lead me through the valley of the shadow I had chosen. Carefully, he guided. Into the valley. Up river and down dale. Through sharp crevasse and sleepy meadow. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend."
"Susan, when you have a girl, you need to discipline your emotions." I heard in the early 1980s. I thought He meant that I would have a girl. But no. He took this child gravely wounded. Scoffed and troubled. Like a cat caught in an alley I was in some points of my life. Maybe you, too, bear the scars from me during that that time period. If so, I am truly sorry. Finally, I understand.
Though I sought for help from many areas, it has only been HE, my gentle Savior, who has had the courage, patience, tenacity and love to graciously lead me from the shadow of death into this time.
I thank you, gracious Savior, for your steadfast mercy and your tender love.
I thank you, Mother Lois, for your wise and gentle guidance. "Knowing" my tendency towards the security of the absolutes, you imparted truth, step by step, in a way that I not only could learn from, but, finally, understand.
II Timothy 1:3-8 unfeigned faith: my (grand) Mother Lois
I thank you, Mom, for your obedience to the Lord in how you reached out to me even in the most troubled of times. There were many. Thanks, too, for your part in teaching me along this journey. And for your love.