Verse three of Only a Holy God says, “What other glory consumes like fire, what other power can raise the dead, what other name remains undefeated? Only a holy God.”

Charles Wesley is best known from history as being a key founder in what we now call the methodist movement or Methodist Church. But for those who have loved singing hymns, he is better known and loved as a writer of such classic church songs.

I was blown away, however, when I learned that he wrote about 6,500 during his long and faithful life. 6,500! A bit of basic math tells me that of he wrote one hymn a day, every consecutive day, that would have equalled nearly 18 solid years of writing. (I have no evidence that all of his hymns were written in such a fashion; I just say that for sake of perspective.)

The line highlighted in this post’s word art comes from my favorite of his hymns (of the handful I know well!). In this line, I see a prayer and a plea as well as a promise.

As an artist and a writer, I know that my creativity and my worship through designing are both greatly enhanced when my heart’s slate has been wiped clean of sin and fear for a time. For sin chokes the Spirit’s influence on my ideas, and fear holds me back from wanting to share my inspiration with the world for God’s glory. After all, if His name and power are so great, why should sin still bind me, and why should fear threaten my heart?

When I think of Charles Wesley, then, I think of another key aspect of true generosity. In order for us to live with the fullest measure of generosity each of us can display, we must crave the promise of freedom from sin and fear — and claim the promise daily as we walk on in faith. The result, when we embrace such an outlook, can be mind-boggling, for we never know what an impact our redeemed living might have on our present community or what a legacy our unfettered attitudes might have on future generations.

This month’s four posts will briefly profile subjects as inspired by the words of a song. Not a traditional holiday song, but a modern hymn written by the team at CityAlight and Dustin Smith. Each week, I will focus on a verse, a person, and an elemental truth that defines the virtue of generosity.

Verse 1: “Who else commands all the hosts of heaven? Who else could make every king bow down? Who else can whisper and darkness trembles? Only a holy God.”

This week will be a bit different in that my profiled person is not a human but an angel. Gabriel is his name, and being an ageless yet created being, he has witnessed the whole span of known time, from before existence of our space, to creation of light and all that was perfect, to the Fall and the fall, to the lines of our history and his obediently announcing the coming baby king who would set all things right again. He saw that baby grow to live and die and crush the eternal hold of death. And he exists today, obedient still and anticipating with all creation a day when complete newness will obliterate brokenness.

He has dwelt in the presence of God most holy and stood watch over the few-pound form of God most fragile. He has witnessed the beauty of Eden and wept in the shadows of Calvary. And he, through it all, has modeled generosity.

For to be generous is to hold nothing back. And that includes, fundamentally, our very being. It is to be who we were made to be and live out of that core being for the glory of God. In obedience and in truth, even when that means facing what is not easy or pleasant. Because to ignore this inherent need to walk with an open heart and life before our Creator is to starve the life essence of any created being.

Is this a new thought? Certainly not. Yet, neither is it an easy one to live out in a death-courting world, nor a natural one to embrace when hiding and retreating seem so much more comfortable for we who cannot throw off the weight of our own shame.

But there, in the song lyrics, we see the reminder that God’s voice and presence make darkness tremble. So, may we, like the faithful herald He sent, take a chance, be bathed in the light of holiness, and dare to generously show ourselves to the world, that the world might know Him.

Ending this month’s gratitude focus after a sweet Thanksgiving celebration that followed an even sweeter wedding celebration, I want to briefly step back further in time to focus on one ancient couple, to profile two people who were overwhelmingly delighted in and grateful for each other.

We find much of what we know about their relationship in the biblical text called Song of Songs or Song of Solomon. And while many Bible readers have tried to write off the contents of the book as more spiritual than physical, as an allegory about Christ and the church, I wholeheartedly embrace it today as a exquisitely woven reflection of gratitude for the gifts of sexual expression, trust, and physical design as rightly celebrated and embraced only within marriage between one man and one woman.

What does such gratitude for one we love look like, according to the mindset of these two people?

For the husband, called Lover in this epic poem, it means he is thankful for and attracted to his bride among all other women (2:2). He is also overwhelmed with the beauty of who she is all on her own (4:7, 9-10, 12), and grateful that she is content right in the place where she knows she belongs: at his side (7:10).

The wife, simply called Beloved, is also equally grateful for the loving husband to whom she has been joined. She is thankful for what he does (2:4), who he is (5:16), and how he can dwell contentedly in her arms (8:10).

While the Lover highlighted in this poem and blog was, sadly, not married to only one woman exclusively due to both political conventions and cultural norms, the rejoicing and pure revelry we see highlighted in that small book points to a kind of love and an accompanied attitude of thanksgiving that each married person is invited to embrace and nurture. It is one that will even make those observing say, “We rejoice and delight in you, we praise your love…!” (1:4). And it will reap a harvest of beautiful, faithful years together.

Last week, we looked at one grateful group from the New Testament era. Today, the day of my own wedding, we will look at another.

A dear friend named Kathy gave me a card recently in which she wrote, “May God keep you and Paul, and bless your union as Jesus once blessed the wedding at Cana.” I smiled because of her good words, but I also smiled because I had already planned to profile the Cana wedding guests as the focal point of this next post.

In the story of the Cana wedding, where Jesus performed his first recorded miracle, some characters tend to get criticized. Mary might be called a meddling mother. Jesus himself could be called reluctant to publicly start His ministry. And the wedding guests? Well, I have often figured they were already so joyous from wine imbibing and celebration that their comments sent back to the bridegroom after tasting Jesus’ miraculous supply were just off-handed silly talk from drunk people.

But I think I see them differently now. I consider that maybe they were genuinely happy and even grateful to have really good wine to enjoy as the party rolled on. They just didn’t know exactly who they were to be grateful to. The credit that belonged the Heart of Heaven went to the wedding host instead.

That is the thing about gratitude. It can sometimes be misapplied or misaimed. But that does not make it any less sincere. However, how sweet it is when gratitude is not only sincerely felt but also rightly attributed.

Then, how Jesus must smile.

My Paul has often asked me in the weeks leading up to this day how he has been so fortunate to find a lady like me who would want to love him and share my future with him. And I often smile and just remind him that we are both equally blessed and a gift of God to each other.

As I stand up to marry my love and he marries me, we will be grateful. Certainly, we will appreciate each other for so many reasons. But we will not only be thankful to each other. More importantly, we will be grateful to Jesus for each other. Because He is the one who brought us together and He is the one we will live for, together.

Paul, ultimately, does not deserve my primary gratitude. Just as I do not ultimately deserve his.

We both must always first be grateful to the Maker of the richest wine.

And, when we are, He will smile.

A new month of posts about what has so often become a seasonal virtue or a circumstantial virtue rather than a constant virtue peeks for a moment at a group of people rather than an individual.

Who were they?

An eclectic collection of followers from many backgrounds, all banded together with their newfound love of the world’s greatest teacher. Yet in their enthusiasm to join that family and share life together, they sometimes had to be made aware of their personal weaknesses and stumbling blocks, of which they so desperately needed to let go for their own good and for the good of the group. They were infants in faith and they were trying to grow quickly in the midst of a confused culture.

They were the early believers at Corinth.

What can we learn from them about gratitude?

We so often wish we could avoid suffering, correction, admonishing, and struggles in this life. But those who have experienced more of such things and not been crushed by them, those who have kept faith and grown to love more deeply and not taken anything or anyone for granted because of them: these are the people who show us by their maturing lives how thankful they are for the multiple chances they have been given to start again.

Thought of another way, a person’s life is like a clay cup. And the things we go through can stretch that cup as it is formed, to make our cup wider and deeper. And if we will learn and grow and see the blessing in each struggle, our heart will have so much more room to hold a greater volume of love and thankfulness.

Let us choose today to empty out any bitterness so that our cup can be filled to the brim with gratitude.

Today, I want to share a bit more about diligence through the concept of BALANCE.

We often think of people who practice diligence as being workaholics, or at least so focused on getting more work done that they don’t know how to relax. Sometimes women who care tirelessly for their families or who feel driven to prove their worth in a certain career field fall into such a category. To the outside observer, they simply don’t know when to stop.

But the beauty of a truly diligent woman is found in one who knows how to work hard and well and also how to rest her heart and renew her body and soul.

I have known a number of such women in my life. Today, I would briefly like to describe two of them.

In one of my childhood communities, a woman and her family were long time members of our church. She had taught the youngest children in Sunday School for years and kept many children in her tiny house each weekday through a humble in-home daycare operation. By the time I met her, she was already a biological grandmother, but so many people in the surrounding area lovingly called her “grandma” too. I used to think she just worked all the time and never stopped, never slowed down.

BUT then, one weekend, my parents had to got out of town and they dropped me off at her house as a safe place to stay. It just so happened that weekend there was a bad winter storm so she and I were promptly stuck inside the house from Friday night onward. Early on Saturday morning, we got up and tackled several household chores. Yet, after a delicious, hearty lunch, she surprised me by declaring it was time to rest. And rest we did. She threw blankets in the dryer until they were toasty-warm. We wrapped ourselves and fluffy pillows up in them in side-by-side recliners and watched classic western reruns while fading in and out of naps for the next four hours. It was a sweet, drowsy day like I had rarely known. And while the wind and storm raged outside, I felt no fear nor worry. Only peace.

In my grad school community, I was honored to study under an advisor who had both personal and professional standards of excellence, yet who was immensely approachable and caring. She seemed to work endlessly to rework courses, meet with students, supervise interns, and complete writing projects.

BUT then, she surprised me one day when she told our research class about a family tradition. She and her husband (also a diligent worker) always dropped everything on Friday nights to make homemade pizza together while enjoying classic operatic recordings. More recently, he infant grandson had started staying with them on weekends and he would sit is his little seat and join in the fun. She spoke of that relaxing time with such joy, I could clearly see how it rejuvenated her.

I wrote of these two women in the past tense just now as I remembered them in those moments. But they are both still living, and I still love each of them. Thank you, Donna Hardy and Cheri Pierson, for teaching me the importance of balancing hard work with beautiful rest.

A second profile for this month points us to the life of an ordinary man who is still remembered for his extraordinary compassion nearly eight hundred years after his death.

I am no extreme contributor to the modern environmental protection movement, and I don’t think that the lives of animals are any more valuable than the lives of humans. But I do appreciate how Francis placed great emphasis on showing compassion to every living thing whenever possible.

I do not believe that every follower of Jesus is called to live in abject poverty without a single added worldly belonging. But I do appreciate how Francis placed great emphasis on living a simple life so that we might have clearer vision with which to follow our compassionate Savior and see the needs of our fellow humans.

I am not thrilled over the fact that some people have had to languish in prison, especially as prisoners of war. But I do appreciate how Francis’ own experience as a prisoner of war likely contributed to his deeper compassion for others and his tender heart being open to God’s leading afterward.

In the life of this man, so many centuries later, I see several lessons. True compassion is not based on the size or popular worth of the being to whom it is extended; rather, it is based on the degree of pure generosity flowing from the feeling soul of the giver. Such compassion springs up in the eyes and hearts of those who know Jesus and love Him. And it is so often borne more deeply out of the heart which has suffered, grieved, and known true darkness.

When we face trouble or when we have less, we always have a choice: will we lay down and give up, march on while stewing in anger and bitterness, or turn our face to the Son and reflect His light of empathetic goodness into the world?

Let us be like Francis in how he was like Jesus. Let us choose the way of love-fueled compassion whenever possible.

I am belatedly starting a month of posts about a much-needed but often presently-misunderstood virtue, a month that will feature more emphasis on word art expression than on extensively-written words.

I begin the very best place I know to begin: with my Jesus. And with these hymn lyrics by Charles Wesley.

Jesus was certainly filled with everything from sorrow to righteous anger at various times. And He certainly came filled with truth. But it was His completely balanced perspective of the limited human condition overlaid by His divine understanding of our needs that made (and still makes) Him the most supreme example of what compassion really looks like.

Let us strive to study His ways and emulate them in our own lives. ❤

Bit by bit, the more earnest wedding planning has begun. Ordering, shopping, sending, reserving. It’s amazing how many details there are to attend to when the guest list is tiny and the arrangements will ride the modest-simple end of the wave. But while the details of the day will be minimal, every detail of the service will be intentional.

Paul (my suitor-turned-fiance) and I sat in my living room yesterday discussing the words scrawled across a humble notebook sheet. I had started drafting part of our unique wedding vows and welcomed his feedback before he added parts of his own.

Funny, how both the drafting process and receiving his feedback affected my heart.

Later, we tossed around ideas for hymns and scripture passages we would also like to include. As we read New Testament teachings on marital relationships, I was further moved.

I have frequently heard people claim that the idea of requiring a wife’s submission in all things is old-fashioned and barbaric, centered in chauvinism. But when I looked at the deeper essence of the teaching and what I was trying to express in the vows, I was struck by how much honor is needed and how it is so strongly defined on both sides of the relational equation.

Men, your wife needs you to desire to live honorably. To embrace integrity and strength but temper them with love and thoughtfulness. To be as trustworthy as you can be. To protect her physically and emotionally. To actively set “we” before “me.”

She needs you to pray for her, to pray she will always seek the honorable in you.

Ladies, your husband needs you to desire to live honorably. To address issues in a straightforward and kind way, without nagging and dragging around a record of wrongs. To believe in his potential and always hope for his best. To trust him and be trustworthy in return. To support him when the world or his doubts would knock him down.

He needs you to pray for him, to pray that God will give him the strength to remain honorable.

If each spouse would work hard to treat the other honorably in such ways, perhaps fewer marriages would look like a two-person tug of war and more marriages would look like a stone pillar with a slightly-uneven top, where the two-as-one are only somewhat independently discernible.

Easy? No.

Beautiful? Yes.

I, for one, will set down my drafting pen and raise a piece of my imaginary future reception glassware in a toast. To an honorable marriage. And I will pray like crazy, every day, for my beloved.

Today, I will pause to write about two men who were virtually contemporaries. One was born into honor’s seat but by his actions arguably stripped away his own right to remain there. The other could have been given humility as a middle name, and yet history remembers him just as readily — and far more favorably — even though he met with a cruel end.

The first is Herod the Great, ancient king. While it is true that he oversaw and finalized some majestic projects in his time, he is also famous for other reasons. More commonly known is the story about his ordering the massacre of numerous infant boys; somewhat less commonly known is the story about his ordering the death of a hundred or more leading men to take place at the time of his own death so that people across the nation would still actually mourn and not rejoice. He died after an agonizing, long-term physical illness, literally eaten alive in a manner of speaking.

The second is John the Baptist, ancient prophet. He was born shortly before King Herod’s death and would grow up to be a thorn in the flesh of many, including several of Herod’s surviving family members. He had nothing to his name but the robe and belt he wore, and he was the quintessential minimalist in terms of worldly living. But his message shook the whole region and his beautiful, brash courage smacked all those in authority down a few notches without him ever having to raise a finger in violent protest. He died quickly and separated from his friends, at an order following a request steeped in hatred and drawn out through perversity. But when he died, his students and his cousin mourned with tender sincerity.

Through Harod’s life, we see that one may be born into a place of honor, but one will also choose throughout their lifetime’s actions and attitudes whether they deserve to die and be remembered in that same place…or not.

Through John’s life, we see that one may be born into an average family, and one may have little or nothing to their name when they leave this world, but they can also have left an honorable legacy. They can have changed the world for the better. They can have died with a conscience far cleaner and clearer than that of the one(s) who killed them.

I am not planning to move to the desert anytime soon, to dress in camel’s skin and eat locusts, or to take up a calling in calling out my national leadership at the top of my lungs on a daily basis.

But I do know which of those two men I want to mimic in terms of how I live my life and what legacy I want to leave behind when I am gone.

Come, friends. Let us follow a path that is truly honorable.