"It's a Death Garden, Grandma!"

"Look, Grandma, it's a death garden!" Grandson Gabe beamed and pressed his face to the car window as we passed the cemetery.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Where did he come up with these things?

On further thought, it occurred to me that it made perfect sense to call the flower-strewn cemetery a death garden. After all, it housed dead bodies and lots of flowers!

Gabe's name for the cemetery popped in my mind the other day while taking my quiet time walk. At the opening of the field, I typically pass a giant tree trunk with branches yawning to the ground. I've never noticed what type of tree it is. I'm too busy thinking about how it reminds me of storybook pictures I've seen of Gethsemane (Luke 22:39f)). I can almost visualize Jesus kneeling by the tree as its leaves arch over him. It dawned on me that Gethsemane was Jesus' death garden.

During that prayer time as He fell on His face and agonized before the Father, sweat becoming like drops of blood, knowing what sacrifice was to come, He said, "Not my will, but Thine be done." He died to His will to accomplish the Father's will.

And when He did, out of death, came life. The sweet aroma of redemption for all who would believe and receive what He accomplished through His literal death, burial, and resurrection.

Forgiveness of sin. A relationship with the Father. Eternal life!

Sweet. Fragrant. Colorful. Alive!

But the death comes daily. I must take up my cross and follow Jesus each new day. In the words of the late Billy Graham, "I put to death my own plans and desires, and then turn my life over to Him and do His will every day" (billygraham.org).

In doing so, I bring glory to God and experience His profound peace and joy.

In the midst of death springs life!

Reflections from Cambodia: Spirit House

I peer out my bedroom window at the neighborhood. A golden spirit house sits in front of a cement wall. At breakfast I ask my missionary kids what these structures are all about.

Apparently, a Buddhist places this small house outside where a deceased male ancestor can reside. The family leaves the ancestor food and drink so that the spirit of the ancestor will not harm them and will watch over the house.

Between bites of breakfast, I wonder out loud: "Well, don't they see that the food has not been eaten?"

"Yes," my kids reply, "but the Buddhist claims the dead ancestor has eaten the 'spirit' of the food, extracting all flavor. So who would want to eat it?"

Onthe inside of a typical Cambodian home, another spirit house, this time wooden, is built into a wall bookcase. According to Buddhism, this tiny structure houses the spirit of the dead female ancestor who protects the occupants while inside their home. The family gives her food, too, so that no jealousy or anger crops up between the deceased male and female ancestors.

My daughter uses the space to store kids' books, and during Christmas, the manger scene, as you can see in this picture. I have to smile. What more fitting and striking contrast to Buddhist belief and superstition! Only the power of Jesus expressed through the Holy Spirit living within a believer can dispel fear and provide peace and protection (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

The Cambodians employ one other spirit house, this one for a deceased child, five years old and under. The "house" is actually a small fruit-filled basket sometimes tied to a tree or post. The spirit of the deceased child watches over the living children of the home and plays with them.

Business owners also place spirit houses in their establishments. Later that day, we walk into a guesthouse lobby where we stay while touring the coastal town of Kampot. And sure enough, a spirit house rests against the stair railing.

In addition to spirit houses, Cambodians wear spirit strings for added protection. From birth, kids wear white strings on their wrists. If a child falls down, his mother will cry out to the spirit not to abandon her child, then she will retie the string so that the spirit will stay.

Adults wear red spirit strings. Police officers and soldiers wear strings around their bodies to ward off danger.

My heart is moved as I consider how deeply entrenched the Cambodians are in fear and superstition. How I pray they will see Jesus, believe in His death, burial, and resurrection on their behalf, and receive Him as Savior and Lord. Then they will become temples of the Holy Spirit. He will live inside of them! No longer will they be caught up in satan's deception and need to rely on the false protection of man-made spirit houses.

Would I Have Been at the Cross That Day?

Would I have been at the cross that day? Or would I have been too scared and run away?

Recently, at a Prayer Partner Retreat at Alta Mons with my church, I stood in the center of a massive field surrounded by the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains. Awed and silenced by the breath-taking beauty, I spun around in one brief sweep, like Maria on the Sound of Music. Only I did not sing. I raised my arms in praise to the King, for no song or words seemed adequate for that moment. I stood completely still, listening to the gentle rush of a bulging stream and the birds chirping overhead. I felt the cool breeze sweep across my face and the soggy ground sink beneath my feet. That last sensation was my cue to move on.

As I looked up, I spotted a rough-hewn cross in the distance. Stepping closer, I noticed multiple carvings on the wooden beams. Testimonies to the Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Scratched into the wood were such praises as:  God eternal. Almighty God. Prince of Peace. Everlasting God. Sing praise.

I wondered about the folks who had etched their testimony onto the cross for others passing by to witness. Probably men, women, boys, and girls just like me, with struggles, failures, and heartaches, but in love with the Savior. So much so, they took the time to stop and leave their praise imprint.

As I stood alone before the empty cross, I could not help but wonder if I would have been so bold the day my Lord died. Would I have supported him publicly as He was dying for me publicly? Or would I have been like so many of His followers who simply turned away, scared and confused?

I thought about how easy it was to stand before a symbolic cross on a quiet May day, surrounded by beauty and other believers, only a short distance away, who shared a passion for prayer. My heart was convicted and challenged. I wondered what sacrifice I had made that could even begin to compare to my Lord's sacrifice for me.

Stepping even closer to the cross and viewing the etchings, I wondered what lasting impressions I had made for God's kingdom because I had encountered the Christ of the cross.

Would my life be any different for having been here? What would I do or say today that would show at least one other person my Savior lives?

I Met a Man Today

I met a man today. “Mam, could you spare fifty cents?” I hurried on to my car, somewhat angry that he had seen the ten dollar bill I was holding as I exited the dry cleaning store. As I slammed the car door, I looked behind me and the scraggly, stooped over man was nowhere to be seen.

Could it have been Jesus? An angel? How could the skinny man have disappeared so quickly?

I immediately felt remorse. No matter that as a woman alone in a parking lot I probably shouldn’t stop and talk with a strange man. No matter that he might have assaulted me, grabbed my purse while I rummaged through it, or abducted me. No amount of rationalization would comfort my tormented thoughts as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the road.

Tears formed in my eyes and crept down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Jesus. Was that You? Was that a divine appointment for my day? What would You have done? Were You hungry and I refused to feed you, simply muttering, ‘No Sir’, and hurrying on my way? Please forgive me. I was angry, afraid.”

I met a man today then simply went on my way. But I will always wonder.

The Relentless Lover

When I was a little girl, I used to dream about the day when a handsome prince would ride up out of the wind on his sturdy white steed and sweep me away to everlasting bliss. Then I would be truly happy and life would be good. Years later, my prince did come and I thought now I will finally live happily ever after, just like the fairy tales I had always read about.

But as the years passed, I realized my noble prince had a few chinks in his armor and his helmet was abit tarnished. In fact, he downright creaked when he walked. He didn't quite listen to me the way I wished he would. He forgot things I would tell him. I expected him to know what I was thinking without telling him. Somehow it took all the romance away if I had to TELL him what I wanted. He couldn't fix things around the house like other husbands I observed. In fact, in our first dollhouse, he got so frustrated because there was no outlet in the bathroom for his electric razor that he knocked a hole in the wall with a hammer and fed a cord through to an outlet in the bedroom. I was livid!

Even more disconcerting was the realization that I, his lovely princess, had a few flaws of her own. Nagging for one. Easily angered, for another. And homemaking skills, well, they left something to be desired. One day, shortly after my prince and I set up housekeeping, I was ironing one of my favorite blouses that my sister had made me (luckily it was not one of my husband’s shirts). I didn't realize I had pushed the temperature setting to wool instead of cool (which was required for the sheer material with which I was working). As I dutifully pressed along, I lifted the iron to begin another section and to my horror, I caught sight of a huge scorch print on the sleeve. I was devastated. My doom was sealed. I was right all along. My homemaking skills were a disaster. Maybe I couldn't pull this thing called marriage off after all.

I slumped into a chair and thought about all the times my performance as God's child had been less than perfect. Then, in that quiet moment, the Holy Spirit reminded me of Philippians 3:12b:  "I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me” (NIV). When I see a scorch mark on my spiritual garment, my bridegroom, Jesus, looks at me, lifts up my face, gazes into my eyes and says, "I love you; I chose you; I died for you and rose again for you to clothe you with the perfect, spotless robe of My righteousness, with no stains, no wrinkles and definitely no scorch marks. Oh, your garment may seem disfigured from your earthly point of view, but from where I sit in the heavenlies, 'you look marvelous!' And someday when I take you to heaven to be with Me forever, you will see fully that I was right all along."

In the years since that time, Jesus has made it His mission to pursue me relentlessly. Time and time again, He has come to me with His perfect love, unlike any human love, and reminded me that He is my Prince who provides all the security I need now and forever. Zephaniah 3:17 reassures me that "the Lord my God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing” (NIV). The Lord sings over me! What an awesome thought. I am that precious and valuable to Him. He actually sings a special love song just for me because I am his bride, His unique work, unlike any other. He has promised me that nothing will ever separate me from His love--not life, nor death, nor angels, nor any other created thing, nor height, nor depth, nor things present, nor things to come. That about covers everything, doesn't it? It is this amazing love, this relentless pursuit by a determined lover that motivates me to be all I can be for my bridegroom, the Lord Jesus Christ. His love washes away all indifference and apathy, compelling me to share His wonderful love with as many people in as many different ways as I can.

If you are discouraged today and feel dry and useless in your Christian life, a motivational book or speaker may do the trick for awhile, but allowing yourself to fall into the grip of the relentless lover will last a lifetime! Nothing can compare to it and nothing will move you to service quicker. Spend time reading His love letter and talking to Him. He delights in your presence as you do in His. You are His and He is Yours.

The other day I picked up a local woman’s magazine which featured a hometown personality. When asked what her wildest dream was, she replied, “That I’m really a princess and my true identity will soon be discovered.” If I knew where to find this gal, I’d love to tell her that she can be a princess and her true identity can be found in the Lord Jesus Christ, her perfect Prince!

One day I will see this Prince that I only visualize with eyes of faith now. Revelation 19:11 says that the curtain of heaven will open and my lovely perfect Prince will be sitting on a white horse. At that time, He, the one who is Faithful and True, will right all wrongs and bring evil to justice forever. Sound like a fairytale? Kinda does, doesn't it? But the wonderful thing about it is that it is true! Jesus will sweep me off my feet and together we will ride to everlasting joy. You see, there is a happily ever after. It isn't pretend, it's real! And those who trust in His relentless love will not be disappointed.

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