As words go, the honorable “cherish” has roots sinking deep, clear back to the midst of Old English and the 1300s. It draws from the French cher and the Latin carus, which both mean “dear.” Its most closely-tied synonyms have and hold echo back traditional wedding vows in my mind, but similarly-themed verbs of bear and nurse bring up equally-fast images of mothers with children.

To cherish is to hold close, to think of constantly, to be deeply connected to from fiber to fiber and heart to heart. It is also to be thankful for, to treasure, and to dream of — while we can.

That is the limit of cherishing. We do it only while we draw breath.

And yet, while we draw breath, we will cherish with all our might. Such cherishing is not dependent upon the physical presence of the one we cherish.

Indeed, while a man holds his beloved bride close, he cherishes her softness. And after she has left his side for Heaven, he cherishes her sweet, graceful memory.

Likewise, the parents cherishing their newborn or toddler do so no more than the parents who, aching-hearted, have to mourn the child physically lost to them in infancy, via stillbirth, or in utero.

For just as this word is deeply rooted, so too are our love for and need for and dreams for others deeply rooted. Often far more deeply rooted than we could see until they are uprooted and torn away.

Thus, it is a painful thing to cherish for all who will really dare to do it, should they be the ones left standing when the storms pass by.

And yet, what would life be without love, and what would love be without risk?

They would not be.

Therefore, I will choose to cherish Jesus most of all and ask Him to help me live and love — to cherish — while I may. And trust that He will help me bear the pain when the uprooting in or around me shreds my heart.

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My husband and I love to share songs with each other. Some are ones we both know well or heard growing up. Others are numbers that only one of us has encountered, so we each have the joy of introducing each other to those and in broadening our repertoire.

One of the songs in the former group is a Margaret Becker classic called “Say the Name” (linked below). One day, Paul asked if I knew it as the intro bars started playing through his portable speaker. I smiled and showed my response by starting to sing along immediately.

But as we got to the chorus, he paused in his singing with me and said, “I have always loved this song…but WHAT is that word? I can’t ever make it out clearly!”

I paused in my humming and murmured, “Immutable. You know, as in can’t be turned off or silenced.”

“Ah.” He nodded with understanding and relief.

The actual line from the song says, “Say the name Jesus. Say the name that soothes the soul, the name of gentle healing and peace immutable…”

When I prepared to write my next blog post, I thought back on that moment and I paused to ponder the weight of that word more deeply.

To say that the peace of Christ is immutable means that it cannot and will not be silenced. Even when the circumstances of life derail and threaten and reroute us, that is a peace that still speaks if we will be still enough to listen to it.

And God himself is immutable. He cannot be silenced. Even though we may think we can speak for Him or rewrite and reinterpret His words, we are only fooling ourselves. In the end, His spoken words have always been and will always be true. And in the end, He will always have the final word in truth, judgment, and mercy.

I ended my pondering by asking myself if people are truly immutable. Certainly, we are not God and we are limited, and death ultimately silences our voice here on earth. Yet, what we leave behind in what we write or pass on to others before we pass away — those are messages that remain and continue, the kind of legacy (for good or ill) that makes us somehow immutable even after we are no longer breathing.

Then, when I searched my brain to come up with a synonym for immutable that expressed the human scope of the word in a single word and not a phrase, all I could think of was this: free.

While we are free, my friends, let us speak and write without fear. And even when our freedom is stripped or our breathing ceases, may goodness we have begun to spread be unsinkable, immutable.

Because of the power in the name of Jesus, through whom we must seek to do everything good. With the strength and peace He gives. For His glory.

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Over the past weeks, I heard people talking about love, especially the passionate kind. It led me to wonder how many millions of red roses were purchased and how many bottles of wine were consumed in the traditional effort to highlight and fuel physical attraction, centering around the day of February 14.

But then I thought of all the firy love songs now buzzing over the radio and the pick-up culture that is still alive and well despite encouraged pandemic parameters. And I thought of an essay a student of mine recently wrote about if the size of a man’s anatomical equipment is truly the determining factor in whether or not a romantic relationship should last or fall apart.

And I felt something is out of focus, off balance, not as it was meant to be.

So, I did a bit of studying about the word “passion” to uncover the reason behind my curious feeling.

It turns out that the term has five different meanings in Merriam-Webster. And it is only the fifth — the last — that has anything to do with romantic or sexual love. Long before this word was commonly used in that light, it was more commonly used to refer to the suffering and death of Christ.

The roots of passion and patience are nearly identical and are all tied to suffering. Do we sometimes suffer and give up things we care about for the sake of those we love? Yes. Do we hate to watch those we love suffer? Yes. Do we ache with heartbreak when the love and desire we long for from another goes unrequited? Yes.

But perhaps the most important point of all the observations above is that the pursuit of real love and the central focus of our lives were never meant to be wrapped around ourselves and our own desires, our own driving happiness, our own burning hunger. We were and are meant to be focused on Jesus and His glory, example, sacrifice, patience, self-control, death, victory, magnificence, love.

On His passion.

The start of Lent snuck up on me this year. Ash Wednesday came just three days after Valentine’s Day. This Valentine’s Day was the sweetest I have ever had, the first one spent with a man I will love forever. After our sweet celebration on that day, however, I remembered the words engraved inside each of our wedding rings and shifted my heart right back where it needed to be. Where it needs to stay.

And not just for the Lenten season. But for every day of my life. Jesus as number one, my husband as number two.

And my whole life — every day — to be a reflection upon and of Jesus’ passion for us all.

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There’s a great word that isn’t used so much in our vernacular these days.

It can mean to stay for a time or to become a resident in a place. It can also mean to keep one’s attention directed on something or someone or to speak or write continuously about a subject.

Ironically, this word that now means where we live or stay was first used in 13th century middle English based on an old high German word for tarrying but equally evolved from an old English word for going astray.

Reading about this in my dictionary app made me think about how so many life stories include one or more chapters in which we who are living are lost before we are found, are wondering before we find our best path, are distracted before we hone in on goodness.

For those who seek God, even after we find His Goodness in this life, we must journey still, before we reach our true home with Him.

I also smiled as I sketched this word art and noticed that the word well resides in the word dwell.

When we are no longer astray but are dwelling where we are meant to be — when we are home — it is well with us.

And from that heart and soul where we abide with God and His Spirit abides in us, Life will bloom — both here and ever after.

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My husband and I were recently watching a movie in which a bad guy used the phrase “I took care of…” to refer to killing another person who was in the way of his boss’s plans. That set me to thinking about the phrasal verb “take care of” and its different meanings.

Interestingly, when we search for this phrase in most common dictionaries, the slang meaning I mentioned above (though well understood by native English speakers) is not listed.

Among the listed meanings, we may find the ideas of doing what is required to help someone who has obvious needs, treating a person or object gently so they stay in good condition, dealing with or doing a task, or covering something for others (such as paying a whole group ticket at a restaurant).

Apart from that first, slang meaning, then, all of the other meanings are pretty neutral in their sense of usage. Yet, ironically, this phrase about caring can take on a very different flavor, depending on the heart of the speaker as it may sometimes bleed through in the tone of his/her voice.

Think, for example about how differently a wife may feel between these two scenarios. In the first, her husband sees the broken household step she accidentally caused with her clumsiness and dropping of a heavy object; he grabs his tool box and a plank of wood and turns away stiffly while growling “I’ll take care of it!” under his breath. But in the second, when the husband finds his wife scared and crying after she tripped and dropped a hugh sack and nearly fell through the resulting gap in the now-broken step, he makes sure she is not injured and reaches out to embrace her and calm her shaking. Then he quietly says, “I didn’t realize that that step was in such bad shape. I’ll take care of it after I help you clean up the spill.”

I would wager the second situation will end much better for them both. Because in his tone and from his heart, she will know that by taking care of the broken step and spilled contents willingly, he really wants to take care of her body and her heart.

And that a beautiful thing.

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First used in the 12th and 17th centuries, depending on the meaning, and derived from the Middle English and the Dutch, our word for scream has several meanings. The subtle but notable thing, however, is that all the meanings that have to do with the sharp high sound a person makes, as listed in the dictionary, are dependent only on the speaker. Not any listeners.

In other words, a person who screams screams. It doesn’t matter if another person hears them scream or not.

All around the world, there are many children who scream daily but no one near will listen. Sometimes the screams are audible and sometimes they are silent.

And among the millions screaming silently are those who will never cry aloud.

It is sadly that simple.

But they will never cry aloud because adults have said they have no right to try. To speak. To be.

It is simply that horrific.

In the honor and memory of those millions, shortly following a very important anniversary, I weep. May Jesus hear your cries, hold you near, and comfort you when we have not.

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Among the multiple meanings of our word peace (which morphed out of the Latin pax and has been in use for at least nine centuries), one stands apart. Several have to do with a sense of civil rest from war or under government control. Another has to do with sound relationships between siblings or other loved ones. But the second meaning listed in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary states, “Freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions.”

There is a broader sense of peace that I have little to no control over. And there is a peace with others that I can only do so much on my own to maintain.

But there is a peace that has nothing to do with the absence of trouble or the choices of others. Instead, it has everything to do with where I find my freedom.

And for me, one who has trusted Jesus for freedom from the first weight of her sin, and one who still seeks to trust Him when daily trials and challenges come (whether in my thoughts or in my feelings), that kind of peace soothes the heart. It is like dwelling for a time in the eye of a hurricane. While all spins fast around, the immediate closest air is still and bright.

My friends, today I would pray for peace on earth and good relationships within our families. But more than that, I would hope for you that this most important peace would be yours and would guard your mind and your heart. Amen.

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Today, when we talk about someone who is famous or in the center of public attention, we may say that person is “in the limelight.” But where does this phrase come from? And how can we more deeply understand our fascination with it in our current culture?

According to an article by Elizabeth Nix posted on history.com, in the mid-1820’s, Europeans discovered how to use a substance called calcium oxide or quicklime to create an intense flame-light that could be used for multiple purposes. However, it was not until 1837 that this method of lighting was used to illuminate the players on a theater stage. The actors who were in the limelight were the ones more clearly seen than any extras on the rest of the stage. (That was great for said actors but not so great for the light keepers since quicklime was dangerous to work with. They were extra glad when electric lights became the norm…)

Though we don’t use quicklime when running a theatrical show now, the phrase has stuck with us, with a basic meaning that has not changed in all this time.

We still crave the limelight. Some of us want to be the center of attention all the time. (Others just need to know daily or occasionally that we are noticed in this great big world. And we look to the world for that validation. )

But I posit that what we rightly need is to let the King of the Universe stay in the limelight — the light of glory that belongs to Him — and to be content to live side by side as unique and cherished extras on His stage, basking in the glow of His providence and goodness without trying to crowd His space and hog the adoration of which we are not worthy. Then, we will find confidence and contentment in His quiet, radiating love, and any magnificent moments spent rightly in the brighter rays with Him will bring us more lasting happiness because we know those moments were far more about Him than about us.

That’s the kind of relationship I want to have with such light. And with my Jesus.

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It’s a new year with a new theme. Every week of 2021 (usually on Sunday), I plan to post reflections about a single word or phrase. I hope the coming posts might bless you in some way!

According to my Merriam-Webster dictionary app, the word NEW has several different meanings and usages. And it was first used in Old English before the 12th century, with common roots that sprang out of other linguistic bits tied to “young, youthful, fresh, and tender.” I think about the past year and the new year ahead, so that each meaning leaves a different flavor in my mouth… Here are a few of them, briefly illustrated.

“Having recently come into existence.” (Bland.) The year, never lived before, has just been born on the timeline. Therefore, there are moments when I hold my breath, suspended between worry over what sorrows may lie ahead and hope of all the wonderful that might wait on this present horizon.

“Having been used or known for a short time.” (Sweet.) While I enjoy recent holiday gifts just being initially used, I cherish the enjoyment of newer, cleaner, better-working items. And I smile at the tangible reminders of how much others care about me.

“Being other than the former or old.” (Sour.) Starting a new teaching experience at work this week has tempted me to pull my hair out. But even as I sit on my hands with puckered lips, I remind myself that the more unpleasant things we have to eat can often be good for us/others somehow in the end. Likewise, many have claimed 2021 will have to be better than 2020. But, in truth, we have no way to guarantee it will be so. We only have the promise that we can choose what attitude we will maintain in the face of our own daily growth opportunities.

“Having been in a relationship or condition but a short time.” (Salty.) Only six weeks into the marriage world at the dawn of 2021, I am still very new at this “wifey-poo” role. While it is usually a nice adventure, there are moments where the adjustment process leaves me feeling thirsty for better communication skills and deeper insight into my husband’s heart. Good thing we both have a Well of Grace to drink from as we continue to adapt to life together in the year ahead. ❤

“Beginning as the resumption or repetition of a previous act or thing.” (Savory.) Every year is a new year for us, but it is not new for God in the surprising sense. He knows what will happen. And His faithfulness will appear new and fresh, day by day, in the weeks ahead, just like it has in every past year, since time began. That’s a beautiful taste I hope my mouth never forgets — and never stops craving.

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The final verse of Only a Holy God says, “Who else could rescue me from my failing? Who else would offer His only Son? Who else invites me to call Him ‘Father’? Only a holy God…only my holy God!”

Rounding out the month on generosity and a year about various virtues, I want to provide a short profile of a dear friend.

Her name is Nyla McKinzie, and she moved from her native Hawaii to settle in rural Illinois, to work faithfully beside her dear farmer-husband Jim and raise three beautiful children. Being Hawaiian in an otherwise generally all-white and rather remote area was not the only thing that made Nyla initally different from her neighbors, however. The thing that made her most wonderfully unique was her generous heart.

When I was growing up, I remember experiencing time with Nyla as a respectable, honest, kind, and warm lady. But when I got older and returned to her home and community for occasional visits, I understood her and appreciated her in a different, deeper way.

Nyla — who I have now called Tutu (Hawaiian for grandmother) for some time — finds tremendous delight in giving to others as she feels God lead her to do so. Her time, energy, resources, and ideas have blessed so many, both in when she gives (at such opportune times) and how she gives (with such joy).

The truest generosity is born out of a listening heart.

Tutu loves to study and meditate on the names of God. His names in the original scripture languages and their meanings as we grasp them in our own tongue. And those meditations have refined a beautiful soul in her over years and years of dwelling.

The most beautiful generosity is born out of a thirsty heart.

Tutu has the forgiveness of God through Jesus so deeply stamped on her core being that she must tell others (in her natural, endearing way) about how His grace and His invitation changed her forever. And she knows that there are some very “good-hearted people” in the world…but without the goodness of God’s heart transforming each person’s heart with a familial relationship, that person will never be good.

The sweetest generosity is born out of an adopted heart.

Thank you, Tutu, for encouraging me to love like this. I know I can follow your example because you follow the example of Jesus.

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