Author: marettej

.It was one of those days where it seemed that all had gone perfect. Woke up to the crisp morning on the lake. The snow, the deer, the swans trying to figure out how to swim on frozen water, the bald eagles circling and flying along side the car as we headed south. Our little adventure over early as the “storm” was supposed to hit and we needed to get south in case it actually happened. We walked into church; a strange church for us but one that would make the middle of my day just as perfect as the beginning and the end. It’s like when you take in a breath of fresh air that hits every one of your senses. You breath in and suddenly you tingle with delight. Your lungs feel full, your eyes are free from itchy allergens, your brain clears and you are ravishingly hungry and yet full. The pores of your body stretch to soak in the fresh air and you almost don’t want to exhale because it feels so good to breath.. Was it the singing, or the hugs, or the people actually chasing us down to introduce themselves to two total strangers? Was it the spirit, the sun luring through the windows? Some actually think church should be a dark dingy hall, with lights so low you couldn’t see to take notes if you so desired. They sang, and I could read the music if I didn’t know the songs. Simple, effective, I could hear four parts surrounding me and energy…I am not sure what kind of energy but it was infectious. Teenagers were singing, little kids were coloring and singing. The little boy by us had some pink milk in a milk bottle. It felt almost like…we were at church rather than at a place that sells a product. Church has become that..a product. It seems the image portrayed, the bribing people to come with donuts and coffee. We have missed the simpleness of being together as a community and being who God called us to be: the church not a church. The sermon when they got that far, after singing more and more, and prayer time when people went forward for prayer and confession time, communion, shepherds prayer where the church, the people, prayed for each other and then the sermon. Simply put, the sermon was admonishing using the Bible. Simply preaching out to the Bible. Straight, practical, simple, Biblical and then that’s all. I wanted to breath again to make sure I had exhaled but I was having a reunion of sorts with a few old friends: who would have figured that God would have thrown that on top of a refreshing breath. Some days, God just says, enjoy and inhale. Let it fill your lungs and your heart, your soul and your mind. So, when one had a day like that, does one just assume it’s downhill the rest of the day? Usually… just coast and make it into the bed and be thankful something didn’t pop your bubble. However, as I sat in a chair tonight at cowboy church and the church laid hands and began praying for the trip to Africa, it began to realize that in the past several years, days like these haven’t existed. It’s been being kicked while I was down, can we stab you in the back again, and by the way, we don’t want you here, kind of years. Those days, weeks and years are hard on the heart. It does bring one to focus on the giver of life; maybe not the giver of fresh air, but the giver of life to sustain in the midst of the smog and air pollution that living as a human in a fallen world and dealing with other humans tends to deal us. And then God says, let there be a day of blessing. Let there be fresh air. Let that fresh air vigorate and energize. Let that fresh air provide hope. Let that fresh air come from the unfamiliar and unknown. Let that fresh breath come when one had just about figured life would always smell bad and breathing through your mouth was the only way to not gag at every breath.

As we sat talking after cowboy church one man confessed that he was feeling depressed and lonely and had started driving. He saw the flag flying, advertising cowboy church tonight and stopped. Fresh air. The sweet couple that drove through the snow to encourage the ministry. Fresh air. The one who wrote a check and handed it to me to finish the ‘guitar fund’ for the trip to Africa. Even the icy ride home, fresh air. For when God provides fresh air, its fresh. We use air fresheners and Simply cover up what smell exists. I love candles and have lots of them to burn and make me giggle. However, if I don’t take out the garbage that stinks, eventually the fresh aroma goes back to stinking. God removes the odor, and gives us fresh air that fills every pore in our lungs. Not a minute early and not a minute late. Not too much and not too little. Not what we expect and not what we anticipate but exactly what is required for us to operate spiritually. So tonight, all my senses are full. My eyes can’t hold back the tears, my ears heard so much I almost can’t think anymore, my fingers wore themselves out clapping, strumming and caressing old friends, my nose smells the fresh crisp air of an April snowstorm that didn’t quite make it as they predicted and my taste buds,,,well taste and see that God is good couldn’t be any more true. I will sleep well tonight: I felt well loved today. And the thing that remains was the thrust of the message, 1 Peter, prepare your mind for action. I have a feeling God has some more action planned that I will have to just sit back, hold on and enjoy the ride!

This is from one of my books; one of them waiting to be published.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had the chance to lie. Not that I haven’t had the
opportunity to lie but just don’t feel led on a daily basis to try to convince someone of
something I know that is totally false. I normally try to stick with what’s true, basically
because I can’t remember much anymore and I’m not smart enough to keep the lies
straight. When you can’t remember things it’s best to stick with the truth because that
doesn’t change.
The other night at Youth group three of us leaders were sent in the hallway. We
had submitted to the youth minister earlier in the week something crazy we did when we were in Junior high. In the hallway we were told of one of the leaders, one of the three, incidents in junior high. We then went back in the room and sat in the front. The kids asked us questions about the incident and all three of us were trying to convince the kids that we did it.
It was amazing as the story unfolded as the two other leaders lied and made up
stories more amazing than the original. It was hysterical. And the kids believed it; hook,
line and sinker. This went on for 6 times. Each time the participants were more creative
in their fabrication and elaborating on the little information given and just making it up as they went. Only one time did the kids get it right as to who was lying and who was
telling the truth. The last one was about someone who was caught sneaking out of their
house when they were young. The guy in the middle had everyone believing what he
said; even me. It was hysterically funny and yet at the same time a bit alarming. It is so
easy to get caught in making the story better. Each time the kids asked a question those
up front came up with stuff that was just too good to NOT believe. It had to be true
because it sounded way too funny to be a lie.
Every time the two liars stood up and the real truth teller was revealed it was
amazing as to how difficult it was to believe. The others told such incredible lies.
In the world we live in there are times when the truth is so challenged by lies. We hear
people talking and it sounds so real it has to be the truth. We go by what we think not by
what the facts are. We get caught up in the excitement of the moment as the stories
unwind before us and our heads spin as we listen to the stories coming at us from all
sides. We believe and marvel at the most creative story. We listen to everyone and try to
believe it all because it all sounds feasible. Everything in life has to be paralleled with
truth. Everything we hear has to listen to through the truth meter of God’s word. We
look at people’s eyes and think that they wouldn’t lie to us. We can’t look at the amount
of others who think its truth and think that many people can’t be wrong. We have to take
everything we hear, read, see and are challenged in life with to the Bible and lay it side
by side by the principles God laid out. We have to test whether it’s good or evil. We
have to listen and not get caught up in the moment.
Will the real liar please stand?

I think about all the things I think are important. I think of all the cards I have bought to tell people how wonderful they are. I think of parties I have gone to, the special notes I have written and the ways we have celebrated people’s accomplishments. Wow..some have been really cool. Some of the 90th parties we have been a part of have been really cool…. but..I have never, picked up something worth a years salary and poured it all over someone. Not yet… Matthew 26:6-10. “While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of a man shamed Simon the leper, a women came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.” Of course , people were upset. I guess would have thought the same thing. Why waste all this money. What we could have done with the money instead of “waste” it. How did she earn the money? We can give money to the poor…. yeah right! We are very fickle people. At one part of our heart we want to honor people. The other part of our heart is jealous when others are honored. And then again, we have this tendency to criticize what others do seemingly regardless. The leaders of our world do not encourage us to go all out. We are told to be fragile, to save, to have a reason for the things we do, act with a plan, etc. For once, I would like to be known as someone who gave it all. I would like to be known for the person who dumped the bucket, who walked across the street and through the ditch and left the comfortable to jump into a pool of slime. That’s what I would love to be known for. Someone who threw caution to the wind and loved God so much that the temporal things of life didn’t matter. The woman? She was probably a lot like me. Women usually do have the same things in common. It was probably Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. It was probably an expensive jar, it was expensive perfume, but more importantly it was something she had to honor the one person whom honor was demanded. What do I have to give in response to Good Friday? I have a piano, an expensive recording machine, duplicator, cd recorders, guitars, ukeleles, banjo, fiddles; it would be like if I took my guitar and smashed it over Jesus head. Or if I took the bow to my fiddle, actually my great grandfathers fiddle, and let Jesus walk on it. Or I took my beautiful Baldwin upright grand and pushed it down the road for Jesus to sit on rather than a donkey. Value, I have very few things of value but what I have, am I willing to dump them at Jesus feet in response to what he has done for me? What things have a hold of my heart so much that Jesus is second place? Is there anything I wouldn’t dump on the head of the one who was willing to die for me? Looking at the big picture, I have nothing of value that tells Jesus I love him comparably to a years salary like Mary did. I have nothing of value and yet, my value is priceless. My life is to be poured out. I shouldn’t matter. I should take whatever is in my life to give Christ total control whether it be perfume or pianos. So on Good Friday I think about what I can sacrifice… what can I pour out to be thankful, grateful, obliged, pleased or beholden. My actions need to be all hands on deck and all hands open with no clenched fists. I need to hold to nothing tighter than falling through my fingers except to love God so deeply that when I look in the mirror I see Jesus. I see people’s eyes rather than my own, I see people’s tears rather than my frustration and I see eternity rather than today. I need to see the Jesus that is worth the entire bottle of perfume that gets everyone up in arms. I need to dump it all, pour it out and let the smell permeate others. So Good Friday is my challenge to live so that nothing else matters. To dump over the head of Jesus the honor due him, and to be said that what I did was a beautiful thing.

It all began the summer before. It must have been a sermon at church or something like that which began the thought process in my  mind that I needed to make a commitment to God.  I loved Bible Camp. I decided that I would wait till Bible camp to be baptized. Not sure that was a good way to make a decision, but that was in my heart. I remember well that year of camp. My father loved camps and started Whitewater Bible Camp I think in 1966. Every year before school would begin lots of kids would gather at the camp and spend a week. Classes, sermons, singing, playing ball, volleyball, meeting new friends, memorizing, plays, skits, and lots of standing straight for tribe judging.

It was a Thursday night- Don Jessup was preaching. I’m not sure if I wanted to go to heaven or just wanted to avoid hell; either way, I wanted to follow Jesus. I remember sitting by my friend Julie, and we both went. Her father baptized a whole bunch of kids that night. The song was, “Lord I’m coming home”. It was a cool night in August, the stream was running swiftly and we hiked down past the boys dorms through the woods to a place deep enough to baptize. It was cold, but I didn’t feel the cold. It was scary but I wasn’t scared. I knew this was something God wanted me to do, the Bible told me to do and I was ready. I had no idea of what living for Christ really meant but that’s pretty typical when we make decisions. We really don’t know what’s in store, we just know it’s the right decision. What I remember more than the cold water, the rocks under my feet and the strong hands of those helping was when I came out I felt so clean, so different and so happy. I felt like crying, screaming and laughing all at the same time. I remember shaking with the cold but feeling so different.

As I stood by the river on the bridge the other day as we went hiking at Whitewater State Park and looked at the old group campgrounds, lots of memories came right back to the heart.  And many years, almost half a century, has passed and would I change that one moment in time? Would I go back to that ten year old’s heart an do it over? I would in a second.  I have walked many miles since taking that step into the chilly waters of Whitewater River. I have stepped over logs I should have walked around. I have fallen over rocks I should have seen. I have gone the long way rather than taking the simple path. I have seen births, deaths and lots of tears in between. And yet, most of what God wants of me is to simply keep the faith of that 10 year old little girl who just wanted to obey. In many ways I still feel like that little girl. In many ways I would love to go back to the singing, the praise and worship around the campfire, the skits, the plays, the  bonding with people who have become some of my closest friends. That in itself is what has made my faith walk meaningful.  The worship today is different; I don’t relate. People don’t seek out relationships with people as much and we all seem too busy to stop and sit and talk. I did that the other day. Sat and talked with friends all afternoon. When I left, I felt ridiculously refreshed! Why don’t I do that more often? The busyness of life gets us sidetracked from the moments of simply being a friend, loving and mentoring. We are, in most aspects, all 10 year old kids with the faith to move mountains but find ourselves in adult bodies with big problems and too busy to just sit by the fire and sing, “Pass it on.”  We can never go back again, but sometimes, it’s a really neat thing to let our minds go back and enjoy the moments of our past. To be a kid once again. To smell the campfire. To get our tray of food and pull down the lever of the “all you can drink milk machine” and fill the glass to the very top. To sit down and eat with friends and laugh. To share our heart around  the picnic table and line up from shortest to tallest and stand real still.   And it all began the summer before when I began to think that Jesus needed to be a big part of my life.

It was late at night. I had been gone for almost a week. My friend had passed away and we had a vacation planned; of course all at the same time. I just hopped a plane, well actually 2 planes and a fogged in Chicago, and saw Houston before I saw Atlanta. Coming home, it was a clear night and one could watch the ground; slightly. What amazed me was the lights. With some snow cover, it’s interesting to watch the ground appearance change. From the darkness of dirt, to the gradual snow and then total snow cover. And then, there was an interesting round glow. It took me a bit to figure out what it was; it was a round-a-bout. In Minnesota, they are relatively new to us.  It’s amusing at the same time humbling if you get into a round-a-bout and can’t get off. It’s scary if you are behind an older person who has never gone through one. It’s frightening if you watch a semi drive right over the middle instead of go around. It’s rewarding when you get to where you are going and exit right.  Round-a-bouts are all about life. God uses round-a-bouts to remind us that even when we are going in circles, he has a reason for the seeming madness. When all is at loss and you see semi’s coming at you, God made the humps in life to remind me to get our eyes off ourselves and look to him. So we could learn lots of lessons just by analyzing them but the beauty is when we look at them from above. As we flew into the greater Mpls area there was a beautiful haze of light and then one could see the round circle. It was kind of like a donut on the ground; and I don’t even think of donuts on a hourly basis like some of my family. It was peaceful, beautiful and very gentle appearing. On the ground, it may seem like a confusing time, chaotic as you try to figure out which of the exits you need and watch the merging traffic all the while keeping an eye out for grandma who has no clue where she is or what she is doing. But from above, from God’s perspective, it’s peaceful. God uses round-a-bouts in life to get our attention down here. From his perspective, it’s beautiful and peaceful. Perhaps when we get bent out of shape about something that’s happening we should get above the problem, get about the round-a-bout we find ourselves going in circles over, and see life from God’s point of view…  Even in the dark of night, things that drive us to our knees can be beautiful when we see it from eternity’s point of view.