Those last two nooze posts left me spiritually wounded. And then, I don’t know how, I was seized by a desire to hear this: When the Saints Go Marching In, featuring the unforgettable Louis Armstrong.
It reminded me that there are saints out there, and plenty of them, and an all-mighty, all-loving, all-righteous God whose word will not return to Him void.
As Abram came to realize, the Judge of all the earth will do right. And all His saints will rejoice in Him.
Our new dead-nettles
Overnight, a host of brilliant yellow dandelions have bloomed all over our lawn, punctuated by a crop of brilliant purple dead-nettles. The squirrels have not eaten our tulips, so we have a dash of bright red, too. Is it any wonder that most people love the spring.
And then the bells of St. Francis, across the street, chimed in with For the Beauty of the Earth.
The flowers tell us: God is nigh.
Time for a sanity break–Dany Rosevear with a children’s song, Flippity-flop.
Now, why would I post a thing like this?
Because it’s harmless! Benign! Soothing! Not like the nooze.
Yes, we need to know what we’re up against; and we need to be angrier about it, too. They’re out there censoring us to kingdom come, wrecking our culture, exalting wickedness, etc., etc.
But you can’t be angry all the time. It’s not good for you.
I like to think that when you visit this little blog, you’ll find a lot more here than nooze. And it’s wonderful that we can share good and harmless things. (We have another hymn coming up, after I write Joe Collidge–who is neither harmless nor benign.) Those things remind us: God is nigh, He has not forgotten us. He challenges us, through Isaiah 50:1, “Where is the bill of your mother’s divorcement, whom I have put away? or which of my creditors is it to whom I have sold you?” He has not done either of those things! But, “Behold, for your iniquities have ye sold yourselves, and for your transgressions is your mother put away.”
The messes we’re in, we’ve created ourselves. It’s why the Father had to send the Son to earth to save us.
And meanwhile, He has given us many signs that He is still here–never farther than a prayer away.
The sun came out yesterday, and so did I. And I was sitting in my chair, writing, when I chanced to look up… and saw a full-grown buck with antlers trotting across the yard, just ten feet away from me. I couldn’t repress a “Well, look at you!” The deer paused to look back at me, then continued on his way.
I know this is no big deal for a lot of you; but this is the New Jersey suburbs. I’ve lived here all my life and this was the first free-running deer I ever saw with antlers. When I was a boy and you wanted to see a deer, you went either to a deer park or the zoo.
My neighbor tells me the deer are living behind St. Francis’ Convent, just across the street from us. They’re safe there. I like to think of them under St. Francis’ protection.
That buck was the best thing I saw all day yesterday. God’s stuff. It’s all around us, He has not abandoned us, nor will He.
Take it as a sign. I do.
Ugh, the nooze! Pandemic. Politics. Riots. I’m supposed to be covering it, but feh. And double-fesh.
Here, instead, is some of God’s stuff: assorted butterflies filmed in slow motion, courtesy of the Houston Butterfly Museum. It reminds me of my grandpa’s butterfly bush, which attracted colorful customers from all around. I used to watch it by the hour.
The works of God’s hands are everywhere for us to see: a sure sign that God is nigh.
The Lord is with us. Every day.
Tulips are supposed to be short-lived; but our original tulip–the tallest one in this picture–was here when we moved in, forty-plus years ago, and it’s not only still here, still beautiful, but it has three offspring.
For a few years there, we thought we were going to lose it because squirrels had decided the flowers made a nice snack. That generation of squirrels seems to have passed, and its successors haven’t shown any taste for tulips.
So the flowers bloom in the spring: God’s stuff reminding us, “God is nigh.”
As distressed as I am by this development, I feel obliged to comment.
We elected Donald Trump to protect us from the corrupt predators of the Swamp in Washington, D.C. But yesterday they hogtied him and got him to sign their trillion-dollar spending bill. In it the bad guys got everything they want while we got nothing–no border wall, no relief from the Swamp’s incontinent and wicked spending. They also gave themselves another hefty pay raise; and having done all that, rushed out of town for their vacations.
I went outside. The sky’s still blue, the birds still sing, and God’s still here. By “here”I mean everywhere. He is not an absentee landlord, sunning himself on a beach in Antigua while his property just goes to pot.
Pray harder, sing louder.
O Lord our God, exercise your sovereignty, your glory: turn the Swamp’s rejoicing into tears and lamentations: intervene for our good, and save our country. Look past our sins and frustrate your enemies for your great Name’s sake, and for the sake of our rightful King, Jesus Christ, and in His name, Amen.
Thanks to Erlene for suggesting this: In His Time. I don’t know who sings it, but whoever selected the photos deserves a round of applause.
Why butterflies and flowers? Like Mr. Nature says, it’s God’s stuff, it always works, it’s good for us–and it’s God’s way of letting us know He’s never farther than a prayer away. And sometimes even closer than that.