ANGL-FM (I Wonder If Mom Knows)

By Michael L. Alumbaugh, © 2016, published in May issue of Black River Times

“As a mother comforts her son, so I will comfort you,

and you will be comforted . . .” – Isaiah 66:13

  I have many fond memories of my mother. She was my favorite pianist, singer and best friend. I recall many times her and dad at the piano in the living room practicing a duet for church. Sometimes I’d even sing along. I learned a lot of hymns that way growing up.

   Arriving home from school, I’d usually find her reclining in an overstuffed chair reading her Bible. There I would come to her with my problems. Other times, we would share events of the day while peeling potatoes for supper. I could talk to her about anything. She would listen quietly, always with a warm and loving smile, advising or comforting as required when I was discouraged. She didn’t have a judgmental or critical bone in her body. Rather, she represented to my young heart unconditional love. Her trademark was the constant smile of contentment she wore everywhere. If I were to describe her in a word it would be “Joy!”

  Dealing with a pacemaker during the last few years of her life brought complications. But she never displayed any doubt or worry regarding her final destination. She had one focus: loving her family through the power of Jesus Christ with joy.

  A few months before her passing, my Bride and I announced the soon arrival of our fifth child. With the usual sparkle in her eyes and positive smile, she blessed my Bride with kind words of encouragement. Sadly, Mom would never meet that child.

  Her last month was spent in the hospital. As the end grew near, the family began the preparations for her home-going. I asked her one day if she had any favorite songs or hymns she would like played at the service. (I was confident I knew all her favorites . . . but I didn’t.) After she paused a moment, she handed me her list adding, “There’s one I don’t remember the name to, but the chorus goes ‘For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.’” I was a bit surprised. I almost panicked. I not only had never heard that line but had never heard her mention it or sing it before! I knew a lot of hymns and had a healthy collection of her old song books and hymnals along with ones I had redeemed from garage sales and bookstores. Where would I start to look?

  Arriving home I spent the next few days searching for that hymn. While making the arrangements for musical accompaniment, I asked the pianist if she had ever heard that line. She, being a seasoned musician and pastor’s wife, called me later with a possible title. Happily, I found it in one of the more obscure songbooks. But before I could verify it as the right one with my mom, she was ushered into the presence of her Saviour.

  The service was lovely as we celebrated her life. The pastor’s wife played the medley of mom’s list and then surprised us by singing the unfamiliar hymn. It was the first time I’d ever heard it. It was a wonderful moment for the family.

  Then, a couple months later, the baby was born. It was a boy! Then the thought struck me, “I wonder if mom knows he is born.” Little did I know how that question would be answered.

  Mysterious things began to occur. Being the proud father, I called sibling’s, relatives, and friends, announcing our newest arrival. During a call to my oldest brother, he surprised me by commenting, “Well, mom has a birthday partner. Too bad she isn’t here to enjoy it.” I was speechless! Being lousy at remembering birthdays, I stammered and stuttered through the rest of the conversation trying to regain some semblance of confidence. Was it a coincidence? I was skeptical.

  Then, a few months later I was locking up the house, tucking the kids in bed. As I approached my two older sons’ room, I remembered that one needed to get up early. I picked up the clock radio from the nightstand. As I did, for whatever reason, that question ran through my mind again, “I wonder if mom knows about him.” Set on a Christian station, I pressed the alarm button to check the volume. To my wonder and amazement I heard a choir singing “For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.” As my jaw dropped, a calm yet joyous assurance came to rest on my heart. It was as if Jesus was saying, “She knows.”

  That was the first and last time I actually heard that song played since the funeral. And though I find no scriptural support for my intuitions regarding her knowledge of earthly things, I rest in the assurance that she was made aware of her birthday buddy. I am equally confident she is joyfully enraptured by the One who bought her with His blood. Perhaps she is singing “Holy, Holy Is What the Angels Sing” to her King.

  The hymns author, Johnson Oatman, Jr., penned these words in 1896:

There is singing up in Heaven such as we have never known,
Where the angels sing the praises of the Lamb upon the throne,
Their sweet harps are ever tuneful, and their voices always clear,
O that we might be more like them while we serve the Master here!

Refrain:

Holy, holy, is what the angels sing,
And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring;
But when I sing redemption’s story, they will fold their wings,
For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings.

But I hear another anthem, blending voices clear and strong,
“Unto Him Who hath redeemed us and hath bought us,” is the song;
We have come through tribulation to this land so fair and bright,
In the fountain freely flowing He hath made our garments white.

Refrain

Then the angels stand and listen, for they cannot join the song,
Like the sound of many waters, by that happy, blood washed throng,
For they sing about great trials, battles fought and vict’ries won,
And they praise their great Redeemer, who hath said to them, “Well done.”

Refrain

So, although I’m not an angel, yet I know that over there
I will join a blessèd chorus that the angels cannot share;
I will sing about my Savior, who upon dark Calvary
Freely pardoned my transgressions, died to set a sinner free.

Refrain

When I Stand

I have long been a listener to the Grace to You broadcasts with John MacArthur Jr. Once he spoke of finding a poem, untitled and unsigned, in his Grandfather's bible. This is what he read. Quite sobering:

When I stand at the Judgement Seat of Christ
And He shows me His plan for me;
The plan of my life as it might have been.
And I see how I blocked Him here,
And checked Him there,
And would not yield my will.
Will there be grief in my Saviours eyes,
Grief though He loves me still?

He would have me rich but I stand there poor,
Striped of all but His grace,
While memory runs like a haunted thing
Down a path I can't retrace.
And then my desolate heart will well nigh break
With tears I cannot shed.
I will cover my face with my empty hands.
I will bow my uncrowned head.

Oh Lord, of the years that are left to me,
I give them to Thy hand.
Take me and break me and mold me
To the pattern that Thou hast planned.

In the End, Play to an Audience of One

Over the period of a year of practicing in her room, door closed, flowed the sounds of Zigeunerweisen (Gypsy Airs) by Sarasate. Or in the living room hearing the sighs, the frustrations, her groans,  and I wondered "Is it really worth all this?" And then to shoulder a tear for her when things piled up and it all seemed impossible. To seem to bear the weight of the world for her with a simple hug, a kiss on the forehead, and a word of encouragement to press on. But that's what dads are for.

Then to see those big smiles accompanied by joyous giggles due to a successful accomplishment and to hear the measure played as if by the composer himself. That's the stuff dads see. Those are the things that fill the heart with praise, joy and contentment, that she ran to the end and didn't give in or give up. Who could be prouder than me? But then comes the performance before the judges.

There's not much to say except that her hard work paid off. Though she didn't get first chair in the orchestra, she won a bigger place in my heart by her display of a beautiful spirit coupled with tenacity, diligence, perseverance and determination. It was something I had not seen in her before, but One knew she had it in her all the time. I think her audience of One is well-pleased. I know I am.

Hebrews 6:9 - 11 says, " . . . beloved, we feel sure of better things—things that belong to salvation. For God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love that you have shown for his name in serving the saints, as you still do. And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, . . ."

Though you may not be Itzhak Perlman, play on, Tina, play on.

Baseless Pride

I found this little jewel in a book on my shelf. It's from "Bible Characters" printed in 1902. It includes contributions from Dwight L. Moody, Henry Ward Beecher, Charles H. Spurgeon and others. It also includes six of the "grandest poems in print." Enjoy!

(This pride-humbling survey of man and his destiny was written by William Knox, a Scotchman.) 

Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around, and together be laid;
And the young and the old and the low and the high
Shall molder to dust, and together shall lie.

The infant a mother attended and loved,
The mother that infant’s affection who proved,
The husband that mother and infant who blessed—
Each and all are away to their dwellings of rest.

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye,
Shone beauty and pleasure—her triumphs are by;
And the memory of those who loved her and praised
Is alike from the minds of the living erased.

The hand of the king that the scepter has borne,
The brow of the priest that the miter has worn,
The eye of the sage and the heart of the brave
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.

The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap,
The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep,
The beggar who wandered in search of his bread
Have faded away like the grass that we tread.

The saint who enjoyed the communion of Heaven,
he sinner who dared to remain unforgiven,
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just,
Have quietly mingles their bones in the dust.

So the multitude goes—like the flower or the weed
Thatwithers away to let others succeed;
So the multitude comes—even those we behold—
To repeat every tale that has often been told.

For we are the same our fathers have been;
We see the same sights our fathers have seen;
We drink the same stream, we view the same Sun,
And run the same course our fathers have run.

The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think;
From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink;
To the life we are clinging they also would cling—
But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.

They loved—but the story we can not unfold;
They scorned—but the heart of the haughty is cold;
They grieved—but no wail from their slumber will come;
They joyed – but the tongue of the gladness is dumb.

They died—aye, they died—and we things that are now,
That walk on the turf that lies o’er their brow
And make in their dwellings a transient abode,
Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.

Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
Are mingled together in sunshine and rain;
And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

‘Tis the wink of an eye—‘tis the draught of a breath—
From the blossom of health to the paleness of death,
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud!
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

A Tangible Love

© 2016, published in April issue of Black River Times

". . . My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him: For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.  If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?  But if ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons. - Hebrews 12:5 – 8

In high school, around age 14 or 15, I joined the track team. One evening after practice, my Dad met me outside our home. He had heard I misbehaved in some way and asked if I had done what I was accused of. I said I had, and with that, he stated I would need disciplining, which usually meant a whipping with the old belt.

I’d been punished by him before and it wasn’t something I relished. It had been a while since the last time he had disciplined me so I must have thought I had outgrown the necessity for it. Foolishly, I countered his proclamation with, “You’ll have to catch me first!” and broke into a quick sprint as if a starting gun had fired.

"Free!" I thought . . . but no. I had only made a few strides when my Dad’s grasp jerked me back accompanied by his words “You’re not going anywhere!” Needless to say, I received a more severe whacking than previously intended.

At the time, I had no idea what a sacrifice he had made for me. Now, I realize he disciplined me for two good reasons; First, for the original violation. Secondly, to keep me in check, reminding me that I was never too far from his watchful care. He was committed to breaking the rebellious streak that desperately needed to be exorcised from my spirit.

I don’t recall the form of discipline or the associated pain but I do remember a discussion he and I had several years later. We were mending relational fences and making peace with one another, me as a young family man and he as an aging father who saw his shortcomings in raising me.

I asked him if he recalled the incident and, surprisingly, he did. I asked him how he managed to catch me when I knew I held the advantage of youth, speed and the element of surprise for a healthy lead. I’ll never forget his answer. He said, “I had to, otherwise I would have lost you forever.”

For my father, the price of my waywardness was too high. In his youth a car accident had broken his back. Then, determined to serve his country in WWII, he received further injuries from being blown out of a foxhole. He knew what it was to live in constant pain. In the ensuing years the doctors told him he would never walk again. By then he had a wife and family to support, so he sought the Great Physician. God heard his prayers and he continued walking till his last day on earth, just short of his 90th birthday.

Like all good fathers he counted the cost and reached out to save me from myself. Even though he may not have known the principles, God had been working in him since his conversion around the time of my birth. As Philippians 1:6 states, “. . . I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” He had learned a few things over the years and God continued to train and instruct him as He does with all His children. “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” (Hebrews 12:11) 

Back in my foolish youth I didn’t see it, but my Dad was showing me love in a tangible form. There are times now that I am greatly disappointed in myself for not doing right when I should know better. But as with my earthly father, Gods loving discipline says something. It may not be comfortable at the time, but it’s reassuring to know “. . . the Lord disciplines the one he loves . . .” (Hebrews 12:6). Now that’s tangible love.

Reality, What a Concept!

(Updated 12/07/13, previously referring to Haiti in 2010) 
And Elijah came near to all the people and said, “How long will you go limping between two different opinions? If the Lord  is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.” And the people did not answer him a word. - 1 Kings 18:21

Life is full of contrasts, and apparent contradictions. There's the contrast between black and white, a red cardinal against a fresh blanket of white snow, the earthquake devastation in Haiti against the "apparent" calm of America, and the contrasting seasons between Australia, currently beginning spring, to our ending fall in the western hemisphere. That contrast was dramatically demonstrated recently.

The last day of winter in 2010 gave us an afternoon of 60+ degree warmth, sunshine and a mild breeze. I shed my sweater just to complete some overdo tasks in the yard. A half and hour later, the wind came up and the temperature dropped steadily through nightfall. The first morning of spring greeted us with 30 mph wind gusts, 2 inches of blowing snow and 22 degrees. Quite a contrast in less than a 24 hour period.

Another dramatic contrast hitting a little closer to home is the one between the comfortably employed and the displaced workers (and/or under-employed), currently numbering over 31,000,000 workers in the United States ( http://cohort11.americanobserver.net/latoyaegwuekwe/multimediafinal.html).  The devastation of the Philippines caught the attention of the nation, focusing on hundreds of thousands dead or homeless and while this is a very real tragedy, so is the one at our own front door. 

How do the employed respond to the displaced or under-employed with the additional stalker of Obama Care? Indifference mostly. Yes, some are concerned and making efforts to alleviate their struggle. But over all, most shrug their shoulders as if nothing can be done and go on as if things will eventually take care of themselves. Some will remark that it's their problem or they aren't looking hard enough. Others comment that they lack incentive due to being "bailed out" by Unemployment Insurance" and need to "just get any job to have something coming in." In all, they appear to basically be saying the 90's theme of "I've got mine." Hmmmm.

Here we have the contradiction! If people had responded indifferently to the Philippine's plight, they would have been demonize, ridiculed, labeled as insensitive, inhumane, uncaring, selfish, etc. But in America it appears to be acceptable to be as those in our text, "And the people did not answer him a word." 

It's as if the employed think if they respond to the need of the displaced worker it is somehow an admission of guilt due to their "security" of holding a job. They too fear being labeled as condescending to a "career-challenged" class.  On the other hand, if they say or do nothing it will all go away as if it never happened. So they silently slink off breathing lightly so as to not be noticed. But Obama Care may strike them unaware as well.

In reality, it really does not matter which side of the employment question you are on. What does matter is where your trust or confidence rests. In Dan Miller's "48 Days to the Work You Love" he writes, "Do you see change as a provider of new opportunities or as a threat to expected security?" 

As the employed lay snug in their padded "security blanket" of a job or career, the under employed or unemployed fight tooth and nail for something to sustain their families. Perhaps the ravages of Obama Care will unsettle the comfy with a discomforting taste of loss, or level the playing field some,  which will awaken them to the even heavier weighted job seekers. Just perhaps a cold slap of reality might just awaken some of the drowsy Americans  up.
Romans 13:11 shouts,  And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. Good advice.

THE TRICKLE DOWN EFFECT

On the return side of a cold morning walk, we passed by a corner house at the top of a hill in a residential area. Though their house faced the east, they had diverted their sump drain to a street some distance to the north of their property. The continual drain of the water flow from their basement caused no problem to them but the same couldn't be said for the residents down the street behind them.

As we walked, I noticed a huge buildup of ice, much like a miniature glacier, which had formed around the curb and driveway of the first house down the street. Their entrance to their drive was situated on the leading edge of a curve on the street so the water collected at that point originating from the neighbors drainage. I thought to myself, "I bet they really appreciate trying to turn into their driveway with that icepack as the first obstacle to hit before the incline to their garage"

As I looked further down the the street, I observed that the water had created similar entry hazards in ever-diminishing amounts for fifteen more residents down the hill. Two thoughts occurred to me. One was, "These folks probably don't see this as a curse because they don't deal with it at the same magnitude as the first house at the curve." The second thought was, "The resident who diverted the drainage from his house is totally oblivious to the potential problems created for their fellow neighbors. "Out of sight, out of mind." or "That's their problem, not mine."

Reflecting on, "It's an easy oversight since they probably installed the drain in the summer with no thought of ice in the winter." On the other hand I mused, "How inconsiderate, discourteous and thoughtless of that owner to not consider the needs of others." Then it occurred to me there were two other options, "The residents down the street don't really care and just live with it as a natural part of their winter lives." The other was, "It sure is easy to take up offenses for others."

I've seen this same type of thing in fathers, families, congregations and churches leaders. They proclaim blessings or ignorantly spew forth error in word or deed leaving the impact on those under them unattended. Those in their charge generally have at least three responses: 1. They get offended and leave or get bitter and stay. 2. They don't notice they've been slighted and do nothing. Or 3. They hear it from someone else and take up an offense the first party never considered.

1 Corinthians 13 defines love as an action in terms of being patient, not self-seeking, believing the best of others, not easily angered, not rude and has stopped behaving childishly long ago. Does that change the drainage problem or remove the glacier from the entrance to the drive? Probably not. But it does change the affected neighbors down stream. How they perceive the situation determines the outcome for them.

Some self-proclaimed community organizer may try to gather a local neighborhood committee to discuss the "infraction", and take steps to confront the alleged negligent home owner to get the drain location changed. They might even call on local officials to confront the home owner and actuate change. These are the cowards approach.

There's another option most people avoid. It's called one on one confrontation. Ouch! We dislike confrontation. It is uncomfortable. But I didn't say what kind of confrontation. 1 Corinthians 13 further defines love's actions as gentle, kind and peaceable. This kind of confrontation requires courage, compassion, self-sacrifice for the good of others.

Matthew 18:15 gives a clue to addressing error and conflict; "“If your brother (neighbor) sins against you (knowingly or unknowingly), go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother." Isn't that the goal, to keep a good relation while resolving the issue. Preserve the unity by building bridges instead of building walls.

For those taking up an offense, that aren't really affected by it all, Proverbs 23:29 - 30 hits the mark: "Do not plan evil against your neighbor, who dwells trustingly beside you. Do not contend with a man for no reason, when he has done you no harm." It's more commonly known as meddling. And it's a good way to get bit. "Whoever meddles in a quarrel not his own is like one who takes a passing dog by the ears." Proverbs 26:17. It's time we learned to love as Christ loved. 

The flip side to all this is a picture of blessings. Our heavenly Father has diverted cursing accusations from Satan and poured a fountain of blessing upon His children. His children are seen as pure and righteous as God views our shortsightedness, willfulness and ignorance through the filter of His Son, our propitiation. That's a big word and an old one. How about another more commonly used word like placation: the act of placating and overcoming distrust and animosity. God has overlooked our fault as it were by placing Christ, the Lamb of God, on the alter for sacrifice. It's called grace. And it's a gift. We don't earn it or deserve it. We call out to God for mercy, confess our sin to Christ and forgiveness is ours.

How freely does this grace and forgiveness flow? "And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb."- Rev. 22:1 Drink it in! Stand under the flood and be washed clean!