From dust you came, to dust you shall return. This thought popped irreverently into my mind when I came home to neglected housework. I sighed, and thought how I hated dusting. Then I opened the front door, leaving the glass storm door closed. The sun shone in brightly, and I saw dust on the chair rungs under a table.
Hm, that should be easy with the feather duster, I thought. But I could see dust particles flying around in the beam of light when I wielded the duster. So much for that. (I heard of a boy who was sent to retrieve something from under the bed, and he came back saying, "There's so much dust under there, I can't tell if someone is coming or going!")
There is a humorous poem by Rose Milligan that expresses my sentiments exactly:
Dust if You Must
Dust if you must, but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture or write a letter,
Bake a cake or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there,
With sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come, and it's not kind,
And when you go--and go you must--
You, yourself, will make more dust.
~~~~~~~~~
When Jesus was teaching about judging others in Matthew 7:3, He said, "And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? (4) Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and behold, a beam in in thine own eye?"
This always reminds me of a dust mote in someone's eye, such as a mote that is visible in a beam of sunlight. It seems as if the beam of sunlight is also in the beholder's eye so that he cannot see to remove the offending particle from his brother's eye.
Jesus has the solution when He says in verse 5, "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then thou shalt see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."
I may be more of a Mary than a Martha, whom Jesus told to get out of the kitchen. Sometimes there are just more important things to do than cook and dust!
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Ancestry
Thanks to genealogy research by a couple of nieces, we have recently learned we are distant relatives of Abraham Lincoln! Who knew? It seems my father's 6th great-grandparents are the same people as Lincoln's 4th great-grandparents! That makes me--not his first, nor second cousin, but 8th (or was it 9th) cousin!
Nice information, but useless except to our own ego! It reminds me of scriptures in the Bible where the Jews were proud of their relationship to another Abraham. John the Baptist said to them in Luke 3:8, "Bring forth therefore fruit worthy of repentance, and begin not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, That God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham."
We cannot be "grandfathered" in to the kingdom of God! The "grandfather clause" is used to mean that an old rule may continue to apply to existing situations, but the new rule will apply to future situations. The New Testament and the saving power of Jesus is the new rule!
We have heard the saying, "God does not have any grandchildren." And it's true! He desires a personal, next-of-kin relationship with each one of us! I have many grandchildren, from ages 16 months to 28 years. They have all been raised, or are being raised, to know the Lord, as we raised our children. They cannot say, "Well, my dad (or grandfather) is a preacher, so that makes me a Christian!" Nor would any of them say, or think to say, that!
My mother was a very devout Christian. All her grandchildren loved her dearly, and several talk about her getting them to church as youngsters. She nurtured and implanted them with the Word of God, and most of them give honor to her for pointing them to Jesus. But they had to make their own decision to serve Him. Grandma could not do that for them.
Abraham Lincoln was our tallest president, at 6' 4". When I found out about the distant kinship, I remarked, "Maybe that's where our oldest son gets his height! Or my dad, for that matter!" They (and others in our family) do have the same tall, lanky build as our 16th president! But that is a matter of speculation. What really matters is that we trust and serve the great I AM! Jesus said in John 8:58, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, Before Abraham was, I am."
Nice information, but useless except to our own ego! It reminds me of scriptures in the Bible where the Jews were proud of their relationship to another Abraham. John the Baptist said to them in Luke 3:8, "Bring forth therefore fruit worthy of repentance, and begin not to say within yourselves, We have Abraham to our father: for I say unto you, That God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham."
We cannot be "grandfathered" in to the kingdom of God! The "grandfather clause" is used to mean that an old rule may continue to apply to existing situations, but the new rule will apply to future situations. The New Testament and the saving power of Jesus is the new rule!
We have heard the saying, "God does not have any grandchildren." And it's true! He desires a personal, next-of-kin relationship with each one of us! I have many grandchildren, from ages 16 months to 28 years. They have all been raised, or are being raised, to know the Lord, as we raised our children. They cannot say, "Well, my dad (or grandfather) is a preacher, so that makes me a Christian!" Nor would any of them say, or think to say, that!
My mother was a very devout Christian. All her grandchildren loved her dearly, and several talk about her getting them to church as youngsters. She nurtured and implanted them with the Word of God, and most of them give honor to her for pointing them to Jesus. But they had to make their own decision to serve Him. Grandma could not do that for them.
Abraham Lincoln was our tallest president, at 6' 4". When I found out about the distant kinship, I remarked, "Maybe that's where our oldest son gets his height! Or my dad, for that matter!" They (and others in our family) do have the same tall, lanky build as our 16th president! But that is a matter of speculation. What really matters is that we trust and serve the great I AM! Jesus said in John 8:58, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, Before Abraham was, I am."
Thursday, March 26, 2015
The Color Purple
"We need some flowers on our porch," my husband said, referring, I think, to an empty, yellow floral can on a table. I reminded him that the seasonal flowers I had stored in the basement were misplaced when he reorganized everything down there. I had searched in vain, but was unwilling to unpack all those unidentified boxes!
"Well, we could use those," I said, pointing to our flowering quince bush, loaded with pink blossoms. We were sitting in the back yard, so I went over and broke off a frond. Funny, it wasn't nearly so full-looking by itself. I gathered a few more, some of which sent petals showering to the ground. All together, though, they made a nice bouquet and brightened up the porch corner.
Each day when I step out the front door, I notice that my irises are fat with buds, some about ready to burst into bloom! I can't wait for their lovely, velvety purple to blanket the iris bed. They are a cheerful greeting each morning and a warm welcome at the steps when I come home.
I'm seeing purple everywhere this spring! Many fields and lawns locally are covered with a purple mass that just says Spring! It looks like what we called Sweet William when I was a child. The curious, blooming plant known as henbit is actually a member of the mint family. Although many consider them weeds, they are tolerated and enjoyed until mowers eliminate them or they are overtaken by grass.
The plant's photogenic appeal caused me to try to capture the fields of lavender that lay like spilled purple paint spreading over the landscape, but my phone pictures didn't adequately portray their beauty. However, a good shot of them appeared in last night's paper! I guess I need a news camera! Last fall I took a picture of a field of sunflowers, and not long ago a picture of same appeared in the newspaper showing that someone had won a photo contest with a look-alike photo of the field! ("My" sunsets or sunrises, courtesy of a newsman's camera, often appear in the paper!)
I even saw a Purple Martin flitting in and out of a bird apartment house yesterday! They are not actually purple, but perhaps their black sheen appears purple, or even a purple/black in mature males.
Since it is almost Easter, I think of another color purple: The purple robe that was put on Jesus during His scourging before the crucifixion. His tormentors were mocking the idea that He was a king, so they placed a crown of thorns on his head and put a robe on him that was the color of royalty. That much they had right, though, because He is Royalty. I often wondered what the purple cloth meant that is hung on a cross during Easter and Lent season until I realized it is a symbol of royalty.
When Jesus was comforting His disciples before he went away, He said, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father." John 14:12.
This is often interpreted to mean greater in magnitude. There are millions of Christ-followers in the world today, and the world is being reached in greater magnitude that it was when Jesus was physically on the earth. Like my bouquet of flowers and each frond that looked spindly by itself, bunched together they were a thing of beauty and inspiration, the petals falling to the ground like words of the gospel showering the earth.
"Well, we could use those," I said, pointing to our flowering quince bush, loaded with pink blossoms. We were sitting in the back yard, so I went over and broke off a frond. Funny, it wasn't nearly so full-looking by itself. I gathered a few more, some of which sent petals showering to the ground. All together, though, they made a nice bouquet and brightened up the porch corner.
Each day when I step out the front door, I notice that my irises are fat with buds, some about ready to burst into bloom! I can't wait for their lovely, velvety purple to blanket the iris bed. They are a cheerful greeting each morning and a warm welcome at the steps when I come home.
I'm seeing purple everywhere this spring! Many fields and lawns locally are covered with a purple mass that just says Spring! It looks like what we called Sweet William when I was a child. The curious, blooming plant known as henbit is actually a member of the mint family. Although many consider them weeds, they are tolerated and enjoyed until mowers eliminate them or they are overtaken by grass.
The plant's photogenic appeal caused me to try to capture the fields of lavender that lay like spilled purple paint spreading over the landscape, but my phone pictures didn't adequately portray their beauty. However, a good shot of them appeared in last night's paper! I guess I need a news camera! Last fall I took a picture of a field of sunflowers, and not long ago a picture of same appeared in the newspaper showing that someone had won a photo contest with a look-alike photo of the field! ("My" sunsets or sunrises, courtesy of a newsman's camera, often appear in the paper!)
I even saw a Purple Martin flitting in and out of a bird apartment house yesterday! They are not actually purple, but perhaps their black sheen appears purple, or even a purple/black in mature males.
Since it is almost Easter, I think of another color purple: The purple robe that was put on Jesus during His scourging before the crucifixion. His tormentors were mocking the idea that He was a king, so they placed a crown of thorns on his head and put a robe on him that was the color of royalty. That much they had right, though, because He is Royalty. I often wondered what the purple cloth meant that is hung on a cross during Easter and Lent season until I realized it is a symbol of royalty.
When Jesus was comforting His disciples before he went away, He said, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father." John 14:12.
This is often interpreted to mean greater in magnitude. There are millions of Christ-followers in the world today, and the world is being reached in greater magnitude that it was when Jesus was physically on the earth. Like my bouquet of flowers and each frond that looked spindly by itself, bunched together they were a thing of beauty and inspiration, the petals falling to the ground like words of the gospel showering the earth.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Heart of Gold
The still-bare branches of the trees showcase the antics of playful squirrels as they leap from branch to branch and tree to tree. I was noticing them while we sat in the back yard late this afternoon. It was a little before sunset, and the golden glow of the sky set them off in sharp silhouette for our viewing pleasure.
Seeing the squirrels reminded me of something that happened when I was little. My sister's boyfriend, whom she would later marry, loved to go hunting in the woods in back of and around our country house. I'm not sure how it happened, but it seems he found a nest of baby squirrels, gave them to my brothers, and showed them how to feed and raise the foundlings.
When the squirrels got a little bigger, the outdoorsman made a cage for them by nailing an apple crate to a tree, putting screen wire over it and giving them things like stale biscuits and cornbread to eat. As a five-year-old, I remember the chickens clucking around under the tree and pecking at the crumbs that fell. The squirrels became tame, but one night a storm came and blew their cage down. The resident dogs chased them off, and in the process, injured the leg of one of the squirrels.
Mama had a soft spot for animals, wild or tame, so she rescued and cared for the lame squirrel. It stayed around the house a long time, until finally it began to venture into the woods and she gave it up as gone wild again.
One day Mama heard kids' voices yelling from the blackjack woods and went to investigate. She found a couple of schoolboys throwing rocks up into a tree. "What are you boys doing?" she demanded. They replied that they were throwing rocks at a squirrel.
"Wait!" Mama said. "I think you may be throwing rocks at my pet squirrel." The boys laughed and ridiculed her, saying, "I think we already hit it with a rock and hurt its leg."
"No! It has a little crooked leg where some dogs got hold of it once," she explained. The boys looked skeptical and said, "Prove it to us that it's your pet!"
"Here, let me call him," Mama said. "Here, Squirrely, Squirrely, Squirrely," she called, while the boys laughed. Just then, the squirrel's head popped up over a tree branch, looking steadily at her for a minute, then it ran down the tree toward her feet!
"See, I told you!" my mother exclaimed. The boys apologized and said they meant no harm to her pet. As she walked away, in her words, "The squirrel took off for home as hard as it could go!"
Mama didn't just have a soft spot for animals, she also loved people. Friend or stranger alike didn't leave her house until they had been properly fed. If someone pleaded that they weren't hungry, her command was, "Eat to keep from getting hungry!" She could always make room for one more at the table or find a bed for one to lay a weary head.
When she was old and widowed and my large family would descend on her in the middle of the night, exhausted from our 500-mile drive from Mississippi, Mama would magically produce mounds of pillows, comforters and blankets, spreading sofas and pallets for the kids and a dreamland of a bed for us.
We drifted off thinking of morning when we knew the aroma of bacon and coffee would wake us, and we would find her sitting at the table with her open Bible, ready to slip a couple dozen eggs into the waiting sea of bacon grease in her huge iron skillet. She would share not only her golden biscuits, but also the Bread of Life as we lingered late into the morning at her table. We were safe at home!
Seeing the squirrels reminded me of something that happened when I was little. My sister's boyfriend, whom she would later marry, loved to go hunting in the woods in back of and around our country house. I'm not sure how it happened, but it seems he found a nest of baby squirrels, gave them to my brothers, and showed them how to feed and raise the foundlings.
When the squirrels got a little bigger, the outdoorsman made a cage for them by nailing an apple crate to a tree, putting screen wire over it and giving them things like stale biscuits and cornbread to eat. As a five-year-old, I remember the chickens clucking around under the tree and pecking at the crumbs that fell. The squirrels became tame, but one night a storm came and blew their cage down. The resident dogs chased them off, and in the process, injured the leg of one of the squirrels.
Mama had a soft spot for animals, wild or tame, so she rescued and cared for the lame squirrel. It stayed around the house a long time, until finally it began to venture into the woods and she gave it up as gone wild again.
One day Mama heard kids' voices yelling from the blackjack woods and went to investigate. She found a couple of schoolboys throwing rocks up into a tree. "What are you boys doing?" she demanded. They replied that they were throwing rocks at a squirrel.
"Wait!" Mama said. "I think you may be throwing rocks at my pet squirrel." The boys laughed and ridiculed her, saying, "I think we already hit it with a rock and hurt its leg."
"No! It has a little crooked leg where some dogs got hold of it once," she explained. The boys looked skeptical and said, "Prove it to us that it's your pet!"
"Here, let me call him," Mama said. "Here, Squirrely, Squirrely, Squirrely," she called, while the boys laughed. Just then, the squirrel's head popped up over a tree branch, looking steadily at her for a minute, then it ran down the tree toward her feet!
"See, I told you!" my mother exclaimed. The boys apologized and said they meant no harm to her pet. As she walked away, in her words, "The squirrel took off for home as hard as it could go!"
Mama didn't just have a soft spot for animals, she also loved people. Friend or stranger alike didn't leave her house until they had been properly fed. If someone pleaded that they weren't hungry, her command was, "Eat to keep from getting hungry!" She could always make room for one more at the table or find a bed for one to lay a weary head.
When she was old and widowed and my large family would descend on her in the middle of the night, exhausted from our 500-mile drive from Mississippi, Mama would magically produce mounds of pillows, comforters and blankets, spreading sofas and pallets for the kids and a dreamland of a bed for us.
We drifted off thinking of morning when we knew the aroma of bacon and coffee would wake us, and we would find her sitting at the table with her open Bible, ready to slip a couple dozen eggs into the waiting sea of bacon grease in her huge iron skillet. She would share not only her golden biscuits, but also the Bread of Life as we lingered late into the morning at her table. We were safe at home!
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Song in my Heart
"I am blessed, I am blessed, every day that I live, I am blessed. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am blessed, I am blessed." One of our favorite choruses.
I was singing and humming it absent-mindedly the other morning, and I heard myself sing, "I am healed, I am healed, every day that I live, I am healed. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am healed, I am healed."
Hm, that sounds good, I thought. Then the words, "I am loved, I am loved, every day that I live, I am loved. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am loved, I am loved," came out of my mouth.
This was fun! And encouraging, too! So I went on: "I am saved, I am saved, every day that I live, I am saved. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am saved, I am saved!"
"I'm a blessing, I'm a blessing, every day that I live, I'm a blessing. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm a blessing, I'm a blessing!" If I believe it, I will be one!
What else? "I'm content, I'm content, every day that I live, I'm content. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm content, I'm content."
Positive confession is good for the soul, so I added, "I am glad, I am glad, every day that I live, I am glad. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am glad, I am glad!"
Reinforcing what is true, I sing, "I'm forgiven, I'm forgiven, every day that I live, I'm forgiven. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm forgiven, I'm forgiven."
"Howard, I wrote a new song!" I called to my husband. He made me sing it for him, then he set about adding verses, strumming it on the guitar as we sang, "I am thankful," "I am His," "I am rich," "I'm satisfied," "I am happy," and many more verses.
We felt positively uplifted! We plan to sing it with the senior's group, and even at a nursing home service. Try it, and add your own verses to magnify the Lord. You'll like it, I promise!
I was singing and humming it absent-mindedly the other morning, and I heard myself sing, "I am healed, I am healed, every day that I live, I am healed. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am healed, I am healed."
Hm, that sounds good, I thought. Then the words, "I am loved, I am loved, every day that I live, I am loved. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am loved, I am loved," came out of my mouth.
This was fun! And encouraging, too! So I went on: "I am saved, I am saved, every day that I live, I am saved. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am saved, I am saved!"
"I'm a blessing, I'm a blessing, every day that I live, I'm a blessing. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm a blessing, I'm a blessing!" If I believe it, I will be one!
What else? "I'm content, I'm content, every day that I live, I'm content. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm content, I'm content."
Positive confession is good for the soul, so I added, "I am glad, I am glad, every day that I live, I am glad. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I am glad, I am glad!"
Reinforcing what is true, I sing, "I'm forgiven, I'm forgiven, every day that I live, I'm forgiven. When I wake up in the morning, and I lay my head to rest, I'm forgiven, I'm forgiven."
"Howard, I wrote a new song!" I called to my husband. He made me sing it for him, then he set about adding verses, strumming it on the guitar as we sang, "I am thankful," "I am His," "I am rich," "I'm satisfied," "I am happy," and many more verses.
We felt positively uplifted! We plan to sing it with the senior's group, and even at a nursing home service. Try it, and add your own verses to magnify the Lord. You'll like it, I promise!
Friday, March 20, 2015
Bad Hair Day
I had just finished brushing my hair into place after my shampoo and drying routine. I looked at the soft bristles of my new brush and noticed with resignation the several strands of hair glistening in the bright bathroom light. I suppose it's to be expected that hair would thin at my age, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept, especially since I'd grown up with and had exceptionally thick hair most of my adult life.
Stylists used to like to thin my hair a little, but they haven't done that in a long time. I've read that it's normal to lose up to 100 hairs a day, and I didn't count that many in my brush; but if it's only a cycle, I'm ready for that cycle to stop! Thank goodness for hair products that volumize and thicken, and hairsprays that add body!
The Bible says a woman's hair is her glory, so surely God understands our feeling about our hair! We are even told that the hairs of our head are numbered!
"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows," Matthew 10:29-31.
That seems hard to understand, but today's science has taught us that each single strand of hair is coded (numbered?) with a genetic code! If an unidentified body of a person falls to the ground and is found, God has seen to it that it can be known by its DNA, located in hair or any of the millions of cells in the body.
As if hair fall is not distressing enough, especially to the feminine psyche, it is accompanied by that other dreaded harbinger of age--graying! Most women do not go gentle into that phase, fighting it tooth and nail with hair color products. Alas that they never achieve the results of the ads, which picture cascading, shimmering hair reminiscent of the locks of Solomon's dearest. He clumsily describes the beautiful sight of flocks of goats descending from the mountain, their shiny coats no doubt reflecting the sunlight in undulating waves.
"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast doves eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead," Song of Solomon 4:1.
Gray or white hair, among men or women, is spoken of as a mark of honor in the Old Testament. May we who have lived long enough to be in this category learn to say with the psalmist in Psalm 71:17-18, "O God, thou has taught me from my youth: and hitherto have I declared thy wondrous works. Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength to this generation, and thy power to everyone that is to come." That is our responsibility!
Stylists used to like to thin my hair a little, but they haven't done that in a long time. I've read that it's normal to lose up to 100 hairs a day, and I didn't count that many in my brush; but if it's only a cycle, I'm ready for that cycle to stop! Thank goodness for hair products that volumize and thicken, and hairsprays that add body!
The Bible says a woman's hair is her glory, so surely God understands our feeling about our hair! We are even told that the hairs of our head are numbered!
"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows," Matthew 10:29-31.
That seems hard to understand, but today's science has taught us that each single strand of hair is coded (numbered?) with a genetic code! If an unidentified body of a person falls to the ground and is found, God has seen to it that it can be known by its DNA, located in hair or any of the millions of cells in the body.
As if hair fall is not distressing enough, especially to the feminine psyche, it is accompanied by that other dreaded harbinger of age--graying! Most women do not go gentle into that phase, fighting it tooth and nail with hair color products. Alas that they never achieve the results of the ads, which picture cascading, shimmering hair reminiscent of the locks of Solomon's dearest. He clumsily describes the beautiful sight of flocks of goats descending from the mountain, their shiny coats no doubt reflecting the sunlight in undulating waves.
"Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast doves eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead," Song of Solomon 4:1.
Gray or white hair, among men or women, is spoken of as a mark of honor in the Old Testament. May we who have lived long enough to be in this category learn to say with the psalmist in Psalm 71:17-18, "O God, thou has taught me from my youth: and hitherto have I declared thy wondrous works. Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength to this generation, and thy power to everyone that is to come." That is our responsibility!
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Lifesaver
March 18. Always in my memory as my brother Bob's birthday. I kidded him that now we are almost the same age, as he is 74 to my 75 (which will change soon!) Growing up, I often heard our mother tell that when Bobby was a baby, he couldn't tolerate milk. He was Mama's 7th child, and as far as I know, she had successfully nursed all her infants into fat and healthy babies. Nursing did not work for my little brother, though, and despite following the doctor's instructions with different formulas, this baby was not thriving.
Until someone suggested they try him on goat's milk. My parents didn't have a goat, but they bought one for Bobby. The milk agreed with him, and soon he was a rosy, happy baby and the picture of contentment. I can still see a picture that used to be in Mama's box of photographs of a toddler in a little dress that baby boys wore then, reaching up to touch the nose of the nanny. It was captioned in our mother's dear familiar script, "Bobby and his little goat."
As an adult, I have had lots of allergies, one of them being milk, as I was once told by an allergist. We were living in Mississippi, and she told us of a place that sold fresh goat milk. We found the country store in an out-lying area and would go there once a week for a gallon of the delicious, cold milk. When we moved away after hurricane Katrina, I forgot about buying buying goat milk. Until recently. Now I regularly get a quart at the grocery store, which seems to agree with my digestion.
In Old Testament times, lambs and goats were sacrificed by the priest in Jewish religious rituals. "And Aaron shall bring the goat upon which the Lord's lot fell, and offer him for a sin offering. But the goat, on which the lot fell to be the scapegoat, shall be presented alive before the Lord, to make an atonement with him, and to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness." Leviticus 16:9-10.
This was before Jesus, the Lamb of God, gave His life to take away our sin. The scapegoat, running free in the wilderness, symbolized the carrying, or taking away of sins. Unlike the priests of that day who needed their sins forgiven, Jesus is our High Priest who knew no sin.
By accepting Jesus's sacrifice for our sins, we are like the scapegoat, having been spared from punishment and our lives saved by the death of Jesus. Our mother always said that that long-ago goat saved her baby's life. When we accept Jesus as our Saviour, our lives are saved for all eternity. As the song says, "There's a new name written down in glory, and it's mine." We have a brand-new birthday for which a party is held in heaven!
"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance...Likewise I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth," Luke 15:7, 10.
Until someone suggested they try him on goat's milk. My parents didn't have a goat, but they bought one for Bobby. The milk agreed with him, and soon he was a rosy, happy baby and the picture of contentment. I can still see a picture that used to be in Mama's box of photographs of a toddler in a little dress that baby boys wore then, reaching up to touch the nose of the nanny. It was captioned in our mother's dear familiar script, "Bobby and his little goat."
As an adult, I have had lots of allergies, one of them being milk, as I was once told by an allergist. We were living in Mississippi, and she told us of a place that sold fresh goat milk. We found the country store in an out-lying area and would go there once a week for a gallon of the delicious, cold milk. When we moved away after hurricane Katrina, I forgot about buying buying goat milk. Until recently. Now I regularly get a quart at the grocery store, which seems to agree with my digestion.
In Old Testament times, lambs and goats were sacrificed by the priest in Jewish religious rituals. "And Aaron shall bring the goat upon which the Lord's lot fell, and offer him for a sin offering. But the goat, on which the lot fell to be the scapegoat, shall be presented alive before the Lord, to make an atonement with him, and to let him go for a scapegoat into the wilderness." Leviticus 16:9-10.
This was before Jesus, the Lamb of God, gave His life to take away our sin. The scapegoat, running free in the wilderness, symbolized the carrying, or taking away of sins. Unlike the priests of that day who needed their sins forgiven, Jesus is our High Priest who knew no sin.
By accepting Jesus's sacrifice for our sins, we are like the scapegoat, having been spared from punishment and our lives saved by the death of Jesus. Our mother always said that that long-ago goat saved her baby's life. When we accept Jesus as our Saviour, our lives are saved for all eternity. As the song says, "There's a new name written down in glory, and it's mine." We have a brand-new birthday for which a party is held in heaven!
"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance...Likewise I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth," Luke 15:7, 10.
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