One Salvation, One Blessing

World Wars, pandemics, floods, hurricanes, cancer... although some people do survive them, would certainly not be considered “blessings.”

Does good come out of them? Well, considering that to survive a tragedy can only be a good thing, then yes. 

But the question begged is this: 

What about those who did not and do not survive, regardless of whether or not they were and are people of faith? What about the inconsolable grief of moms and dads, sisters and brothers, when their loved ones never come back—from the Front; the house washed away by the river; the hospital; the burned down apartment building. 

The discomfort I have experienced with the saying “I’m so blessed” in any number of circumstances is that the same circumstance that blesses me curses someone else.

If I’m “so blessed” in a particularly trying situation that numerous other people are also going through but not doing well in, what does that make them? Punished?

When I first joined the ranks of church-going Christians, I, too, would say how blessed I was in various material situations. 

I’ll never forget when I drove into a parking lot years ago, as a new Christian, and snagged a very convenient parking spot. I said, 

“God is so good in blessing us with this spot!”

My husband, rightly so, immediately responded, 

“Do you really think God cares about you getting this parking spot?”

To his credit, that was the beginning of my taking stock of this “I’m so blessed” sentiment, which I believe is, for some people, an innocently-naive statement. For me, however, I came to understand it as a blind adoption of what my church was modeling, along with a desperate need to be affirmed—especially in my own mind—that I was a bona fide spiritual person.

In the years between my sudden questioning of “I’m so blessed” and my husband having a stroke almost two years ago, I put trying to figure blessings out on the back burner. I didn’t know what to think, so I just didn’t think about it. 

But the close-up-and-personal of going through the stroke with my husband, and together having numerous conversations on this concept of “being so blessed,” along with a close study of the book of Luke (which entails much about the topic of blessing), I have come to much greater clarity. 

Did some good come out of my husband’s stroke? Absolutely. The medical outcome could have been much worse. His mind is as sharp as ever, and he isn’t immobile like he was in the months following. All his vitals have stabilized and he is living a new normal with just a few setbacks.

But would good things have come out of his not having a stroke? Absolutely. And we’d be singing the praises of those “blessings” as well: freedom to walk miles and miles as we explored new cities, golfing with good friends, downhill skiing with our sons, cooking with both hands. 

Those are no longer options, due to the stroke. But had the stroke not happened? The activities of life in that realm would also have been considered “blessings,” just as people label his recovery from the stroke a “blessing.”

In my investigation into this concept and use of the statement “I am blessed” in the daily material occurrences of life, I found an excellent article that I credit for opening my eyes to the truth of the matter: and that is, to be blessed is singular. It happens right along with salvation and comes in the form of the Holy Spirit. 

Here’s the link to this excellent perspective:

https://blog.biblesforamerica.org/what-does-it-mean-to-be-blessed-by-god/

Salvation and receipt of the Spirit are, in my now convinced mind, the one and only blessing. Everything else that happens in life is exactly that: life simply happening.  But it happens within the overarching blessing—the coming of the Messiah’s Spirit to us.

So if I recover from cancer, great. But I personally, now, don’t see that as being any more blessed than the next person who does not recover. Because they too had the Spirit, just like me, and that is how we are both blessed.

I’ve shared this before in previous posts:

A man in his late 50’s, of exceedingly humble and quiet faith, was diagnosed with stage four melanoma. He fought it for a couple of years. He said something that transformed, for me, the meaning and application of the word “miracle,” the same way the word “blessing” is being transformed for me now.

He said, 

“The Lord is going to do a miracle. He’ll either cure me, or take me home.”

God took him home. A miracle.

That is how I now understand blessing. If I come down with cancer, or die in a pandemic, or lose my house to unforeseen circumstances—if I can’t find a parking spot and miss the concert—(even the Christian concert), I am still and always blessed.

Copyright Barb Harwood

Cast Your Bread Upon the Water

Cast Your Bread Upon the Water

(inspired by Ecclesiastes 1 and 11)

by Barb Harwood

In youth I cast, in seed, my bread upon the water, 

impulsively, to sow its devil-may-care,

thinking “this will never end…

I am so smart and invincible!”

The naive investments over time, “opportunities”—

They pile up—manifest as the School of Hard Knocks,

of “What’s it all about?”

of “What a fool!!

of “When did I leave my childhood behind?”

Other children, our own,
come along to coin us responsible,

to blind us too soon that we once, also, were children:

Young.

Vulnerable.

Often afraid—(and a bit mischievous, but only in a good way).

But we became steel-plated adults,

minted of concerns, reputations, gripes, cautions.

     (Our bread was out there, floating).

And then, those children—those whom we forgot we once were—also grow up.

Suddenly, we, who with our children’s leaving and life’s retiring—we, the washed-up and out-of-touch—

find our youth again!

Now, as waiting, silent shadows,

It is we who watch these young-becoming-old people cast their bread in seed

upon their waters.

We note their impatience and find it familiar.

We watch their curveballs, and marvel.

We sense their anguish and gradual resignation

as their idealisms—mere apparitions—dissolve,

leaving only frustrations birthed

in the clear day of reality.

Truly “there is nothing new under the sun!”

Having lost such innocence,

as all do,

they, as we, find it again

in crepe, lackluster eyes that look back at ourselves through the decades;

in shadows and crevasses upon staunch skin.

We find innocence there—

the remains of not having succumbed

to the first, and ongoing sporadic, “days of darkness.”

Welcoming, finally, the bread “after many days,” 

as it laps against the shore after equally many miles,

the message it carries is that youth and beauty— 

vitality and the beginnings of large hopes—

are meaningless;

they never—not really—bring about the intended, 

but only its shade, if even that.

So we pick up the bread that has washed back to

 “Banish anxiety from our hearts and troubles

from our body,”

We-the aged in body but truly old and young in Spirit, 

stand now on the shore of a mature youth.

As the bread meets our palms, 

its life thread ending,

it turns, 

once again,

into seed,

     to be cast upon the water once more.

copyright Barb Harwood

May 8, 2020

Our Father

It is not that we never experience negative emotions; it is that those emotions come first:

“I was overcome by trouble and sorrow” (Psalm 116:3b).

But then:

“Then I called on the name of the LORD:

‘O LORD, save me!’” (Psalm 116:4).

Our full adoption by the Spirit of God into His household removes us now from the household of biology or man. In God’s household is where we have full access to and reception of everything our earthly households cannot or do not supply because they live in too much dysfunction to freely and adequately give it.

Therefore, in sheer incredulity but yet unequivocal surety, in joy, we ponder and manifest that:

“The LORD is gracious and righteous;

Our God is full of compassion. 

The LORD protects the simplehearted;

When I was in great need, he saved me” (Psalm 116:5-6)

That need—private and unspoken—can ever be only rightly understood and addressed by our original and true Mother and Father, our Parent in every aspect, God.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1a).

So then, 

“Be at rest once more, O my soul, 

for the LORD has been good to you.

For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death, 

my eyes from tears, 

my feet from stumbling, 

that I may walk before the LORD 

in the land of the living.” Psalm 116:7-9

Copyright Barb Harwood

“All your children will be taught by the LORD, 

and great will be their peace.” Isaiah 54:13

Unless You Become Like Children

At fifty-seven, and into the nineteenth year of walking with Jesus, I have progressed—persevered through and survived—about as many phases of theology, ideology and self that one can. 

Although there will be knowledge yet to come, I believe I’ve taken big bites out of the aforementioned predominant states of being, chewed them up and digested or spit them out, to confidently emerge on the other side, to the place Scripture describes as this:

“And he said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:2-3). 

And:

“Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand. 

One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God. For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living.

You then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God’s judgment seat” (Romans 14:4)

In other words, I’ve arrived on the other side of social, congregational, denominational, political, familial and cultural labels, constructs, talking points and tribalisms, to the very place of a child.

When Jesus says one must hate one’s family—along with one’s own life (Luke 14:26)—I get it now: one must hate the pull, the dysfunction, the competition amongst family and church members to be the greatest; to be one's own savior, so to speak, or the savior of others. 

One must additionally hate polarizations, partisanships, cliques, un-thought-through allegiances and what I call “the labelization” of people—the act of being for this group and against that group; for this individual and against that individual.

That is what we are to hate, in ourselves and in others.

And while all of the above yet exists, the difference is that I no longer desire to exist within it because I have chosen to no longer desire to exist within it.

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you” 

(Luke 6:37-38).

For my entire life, I’ve been pressed down and shaken for one outcome—the “running over” of Christ into my lap—no longer obligated to live in the hateful and hated prison of my own promotion, or that of the “group,” whatever and whomever constitutes the group at any given time. 

In my sojourn, He “drew me out of many waters…” (Psalm 18:16b)

releasing me from having to be part of any of them

freeing me from pressure in any form to subscribe to anyone or anything. 

“Now about your love for one another we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other. And in fact, you do love all of God’s family throughout Macedonia. Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you,” (1 Thessalonians 4:9-11).

Today I stand at the crossroads, the crossroads of all that has been; all that can yet be.

I reach out, and with one hand, take the hand of the child I once was.

With my other hand, I take hold of the hand of Christ. 

Together, the three of us walk, out onto the path of life, of all that can yet be.

“You will make known to me the path of life;

In your presence is fullness of joy;

In your right hand there are pleasures forever.” 

Psalm 16:11

Copyright Barb Harwood

He Deemed it Finished so that We May Continue in His Beginning

“Then King David went in and sat before the LORD, and he said:

‘Who am I, LORD God, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far? (1 Chronicles 17:16; also in 2 Samuel 7:18) 

The singular reason I can and do claim this benediction—in truthful, overwhelming thankfulness—is because of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice, His ascension to the right hand of God where He continually intercedes, His Word and His Holy Spirit. 
In tender, pondering awe I quietly cherish and "see what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" (1 John 3:a). 

“…Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’” John 19:30 (in part)

“If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?” Luke 11:13

"His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But whoever does not have them is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, make every effort to confirm your calling and election. For if you do these things, you will never stumble, and you will receive a rich welcome into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." 

2 Peter 1:3-11

A Present Faith

When every-day common normalcy and routine is disrupted—during a stay-at-home order or otherwise—the thing having great potential to germinate, or to become even more realized, is faith.

Singular faith: what we believe to be the kernel underlying everything, and which presents a semblance of life having a point.

Martha and Mary were two sisters. One day, Martha invited Jesus to her house:

"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:38-41).

“Worried and upset about many things…” 

That is the distance Martha put between herself and the one thing: singular faith that takes foundational precedence over all other faiths, making the point of it all.

Mary cast consideration upon Jesus, sensing that insight—and perhaps even faith—could be located there. 

Martha was held back, stuck in a transactional “keeping score” state of herself and her doing. Her faith was in herself and Mary and their abilities and obligations. As a result, Martha’s foundation was unsettled and resentful.

Mary’s openness, on the other hand, emanated, not from herself or from Martha or from serving—even serving such a great teacher as Jesus—but from God Himself as she studied the possibility of Him being exactly the point; the point of everything.  

Copyright Barb Harwood

This New Spring Day

Laced with frost, the morning welcomes the sun in bejeweled gladness.

Barb Harwood