By: Marcy Barthelette

I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.John 14:27  

Our southeastern states have certainly seen more than their fair share of water in recent weeks. Hurricane Helene surprised all the forecasters by taking a mean swipe at Florida’s west coast and then making a beeline inland and dropping record amounts of rain in very short periods of time in areas not known for hurricane-force storms. As we all know, the results were devastating. Just two weeks later Milton bore down on Florida, for a while raging as a category 5 storm over the Gulf of Mexico. Fortunately, he weakened some before landfall but damage was still quite substantial, this time taking its aim on the entire Florida peninsula.

We have family who were impacted during both storms and waiting to hear is a very sobering business. We finally did learn that while they have a lot of clean-up in their futures, they’re safe.

Ken and I have had lots of experience with raging waters. Living and working in parks in south central Missouri placed us close to several Ozarks streams that had a high potential for volatility. If you live near them long enough, you will experience flash flooding. We experienced damage to homes, losses of personal property, loss of a pet, and, in one case, loss of human lives. The floods we experienced would be classified as minor by comparison to the recent storms in the southeastern US, but they certainly gave us a great respect for the power of water and the ability to truly empathize with the people in those devastated areas.

Most of the time, clear running streams and calm beaches are just wonderful places to relax and enjoy our beautiful outdoors. I have always been attracted to water, especially clear running streams. As a teen, we lived on the outskirts of our town and I was privileged to have a nice little creek just up the road. I spent many hours wandering its banks. For a while, my leisure time was spent on lakes but once I found my way to Ozarks streams, my love affair with them has only grown. I find peace walking beside a stream and strength in the continuity of the water, meandering to reach its destination. Beaches provide the same sense of peace for me as the waves ebb and flow. But when a weather phenomenon or a human error causes them to rise from their normal boundaries, they become anything but peaceful.

At some time in our lives, maybe multiple times, we will face a wall of “raging water,” an event that seems insurmountable. We’ve been upagainst that wall for a few months now, dealing with several health issues. Our doctor ordered each of us to go through a brain MRI. That happened last week and I have to tell you that I had my share of concerns. First and foremost is the question of what exactly is causing our symptoms and then comes the uncertainty of what the test will be like and I’d heard some very negative descriptions. And, in my case, the fear of the IV needle insertion is paramount. But, for the last few times, I’ve had blood drawn, I’ve placed my fear in God’s hands and He’s gotten me through it. And so, I gave the MRI to Him, as well. I felt totally at peace isolated in that tube with loud and annoying sounds all around me, and when it came time for the needle, one quick stick was all that was needed to inject the contrast dye. It ended sooner than I expected and I left the test area feeling relaxed and comforted.

What made the difference? Jesus was beside me, just like always, but this time I reached out and took His hand and he led me in my mind beside “still waters” to pastures of green. The words of the contemporary musical version of Psalm 23 repeated through my mind the entire time I was in the tube and I rested into His goodness.

You prepare a table when I am surrounded,

Anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows, my cup overflows….

It occurred to me after I was finished that the reason streams of water have been my answer to troubled times is simply that Jesus is there for me. It’s the special place where we come together and, if I’m not near water, I can imagine it and be transported to my favorite stream through His presence. Our enemies may be raging weather or the trials of daily life. It doesn’t matter….He’s always there to prepare a table in the presence of those enemies.

You can make many plans, but the Lord’s purpose will prevail. Proverbs 19:21 NLT

It’s Monday morning as I write, and today, I celebrate eight decades of life on this incredible God-created earth. You can well imagine that those eighty years have seen a lot of shaping, refining, and pruning of unnecessary parts, but today, I reflect on the gifts of life. Birthdays are about gifts, celebration, and remembering.

Let me start by saying that I’m a planner, an organized person, a list-maker. So it’s easy to see how Proverbs 19:21 has been challenging for me. I love Proverbs! I call it the “no-nonsense” book of the Bible. It tells you all you need to know in a very straightforward language anyone can understand. But how can I not make plans? It’s so deeply ingrained in me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been “in” church. I attended Sunday School and taught classes, belonged to youth groups and led them, sang in the choir, worked at VBS, served on committees…you name it and I have done it. I’ve made many mistakes but I tried to be a pretty good person and treat others well. And I thought I had this Christianity thing all figured out, but God had other ideas.

I recall a noisy evening some forty-two years ago. It was likely right around the time of my birthday. I was standing in the high school gym in my tiny town, waiting for a ball game to begin while having a conversation with a new acquaintance who had just moved into the community. Out of nowhere, he asked me if I knew Jesus and I knew this was a turning point in my life. It was as if the chaos around me just ceased and I was left with a life-changing question just hanging in the air. Did I really “know” Jesus? And so began a journey of finding myself within the loving arms of Ken’s Jesus who has truly become my Jesus as well.  

Time slips. Days pass. Years fade. And life ends. And what we came to do must be done while there is time. Max Lucado, He Still Moves Stones

Most people and cultures throughout the history of the world have acknowledged a God, a supreme being, a benefactor of sorts. But we, you and I, have been offered an even better gift. We have a living, breathing promise of life, God’s Son. A friend who walks with us and talks with us…who doesn’t judge, he just listens and forgives. I wonder how long it would have taken me to begin my Jesus friendship if my sweet husband had not asked that question all those years ago….“Do you know Jesus?” I do know Him. I accept His gift of life, and I know that He is the glue that holds us together, that strengthens us to be who we were created by God to be. And those lists, I still make them, but I know they’ll likely end up in the trash because He always places a few surprises along my path to interrupt my best-laid plans.

Now, it’s a pretty safe bet that there’s more of life behind me than there is ahead. So, the big question now is, “What can I do to maximize

the time I have left to share the gift of Jesus with those I encounter, just like Ken did for me? Of whom do I need to ask, “Do you know my Jesus?”

God is not finished with you yet (or with me). Oh, you may think he is. You may think you’ve peaked. You may think he’s got someone else to do the job. If so, think again….

God ain’t finished with you (or me) yet.

Max Lucado, When God Whispers Your Name

 Ah, vacation time! We look toward those journeys down highways and backroads with great anticipation and no small amount of planning and organization. Our last major excursions happened in 2019 before the pandemic radically changed our lives. That year we went to the great state of Texas to visit our son and his family, followed about six weeks later by a circular journey that took us to Florida for some family time with Ken’s siblings, then wandered up through parts of Georgia, South and North Carolina and through the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee before heading back to Missouri.

Now, I’ve known people who can hop in the car with nothing more than a backpack and their trusty GPS, then head down the road in search of adventure wherever they find it. I’m not one of those, though I’ve often wished I could be. Any major trip in my future begins many weeks ahead, first creating lists to be sure I don’t forget a single thing, then slowly gathering everything on the list and packing it away in a very organized manner. When the time comes to load the car, Ken does the heavy lifting to the garage, but then he just stands back and lets the master packer do my thing. You would not believe what I can pack into a car or a camper. Ken seldom asks if I brought a certain something, he just asks me to point him in the right direction.

The same is true for our home. The kitchen cabinets are arranged in an order that is functional for me and includes turntables that bring needed items forward with just a twist. The closets have a specific place for every item which makes them easy to find. And then there’s the garage. I guess we all need a space that’s not so pretty, though I must say, Ken’s doing a better job of keeping his side organized than I am.

Even when we’re not traveling down unfamiliar roads in search of adventure, we’re all on a journey we call life. Our journey may be fraught with danger or filled with miracles, but it’s our journey and it’s ever-changing. Seasons come and seasons go, we trudge through valleys of despair and celebrate the view from mountaintops, and if we know that God is in control, we also know that this life is just a blip on the radar of eternity.

Last Sunday, Pastor Dennis began a new sermon series based on the Book of Exodus. The word exodus means “the road out” and to many of us it refers to the departure of the Jewish people from bondage in Egypt and their search for a “promised land” flowing with “milk and honey.” It was no easy journey, one that lasted for forty years, and many perils surrounded the Jewish nation throughout this time, not the least of these being their own self-doubt, but they eventually arrived.

And I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey….Exodus 3:8

As we look back on the journeys of our lifetimes, we ponder beautiful memories, unexpected emergencies, trails taken and others overlooked. We spend a lot of time looking back when we need to keep focused on what lies ahead. The nation of Israel took two generations to reach that rich land they were promised. Our journey on earth typically lasts through three or maybe four generations, but our trip home happens in an instant. And no packing is required!

No mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him. I Corinthians 2:9 NLT

And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst. Exodus 25:8

Some years ago, 2005 to be exact, we had just recently moved to Florida for Ken’s work. Our home was in a rural area near a small lake and the back adjoined a large ranch owned by our landlord. The yards around ours were spacious and the population was a diverse mix of people. A long road leading to our home was my choice for daily walking as there was an old orange grove at the other end and I loved being near the orange blossoms that spring. I don’t think anything smells sweeter than a grove of orange blossoms.

On one particular day, I was about as far away from my house as my walk could take me when a very large dog approached from behind. He was a handsome reddish-brown boxer who stood more than half as tall as myself. His mouth was just about where my hand fell and he took that hand in his mouth. I cannot express the fear I felt. Large dogs have always frightened me and yet, or maybe because of that, they are attracted to me. Unfortunately, I freeze which only worsens the situation.  

I walked resolutely forward not making eye contact with my escort alongside me, holding my hand but never clamping down on it. We approached an intersection in the road where I hoped someone might come by. And, in fact, a car did approach and I frantically waved for the driver to stop. I told him my plight and asked him for a ride to my house. Bear in mind, this was a perfect stranger, whose car I would have never entered under normal circumstances. But this was no ordinary situation in my mind. The man seemed to believe I was overreacting and clearly believed the dog was no danger to me. However, it was still a long way down that road to my home and I really did not want to make that walk with my new “friend” holding my hand.

The driver reluctantly agreed to give me a ride and I scrambled into the car, against all my better judgment. And I never walked that road alone again. I missed the tantalizing scent of orange blossoms but I did not want another encounter with that animal, beautiful or not.

I know that many of you would think me completely irrational. After all, it was a handsome animal who showed no aggression toward me, but my fear paralyzed me. I’m surprised I was able to walk as far as I did in relative calm, but I assure you when help was within my grasp, I lunged for it.

Fear can either paralyze or motivate us. Fear for ourselves will often result in the former while fear for someone we love is a very great motivator.

Maybe you’ve never experienced great fear or maybe you live with it on a regular basis but one thing I know for sure, if fear is your companion, you need another companion to walk alongside you.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1

I cannot honestly say that God was my first thought that day. My fear was so paralyzing I likely only considered what I could do to help myself. I thought I needed to feel the sanctuary of my home when what I really needed was the one true sanctuary available to me. If you find yourself grappling with fear, lean into His loving arms and rest in the sanctuary of His mercy.

And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. II Corinthians 9:8

Last evening I caught my first real sense of autumn approaching. There were new scents in the air, the gentle breeze had a slightly different feel. And, of course, leaves were beginning to drift silently to the ground. What is it about fall that holds us in its spell, and captures our sense of settling in after a summer of busyness and out-of-the-ordinary activities? Maybe it’s an opportunity to breathe a bit before old man winter comes calling.

On recent trips for groceries, I’ve noticed this year’s crop of apples making their way into the produce section and who doesn’t love to bite into a crisp, juicy apple, newly picked from the tree? The best part for me is the smell of apples simmering in cinnamon and brown sugar, whether as a side dish, a cobbler, or a crisp. Nothing says fall more to me than the tantalizing aroma of apples cooking. Soon on a crisp evening, I’ll sit with a cup of steaming spiced cider to warm me through and through…yummy!

The humble apple has become the most popular and most used fruit throughout our world. Its origins are in Far Eastern countries. It migrated westward through the Middle and Near East and then to Europe. Most sources agree that it came to the shores of North America in the early sixteen hundreds with some of the first settlers of this wild continent, new and challenging to all but the indigenous residents who populated its woods and hills.

These earliest immigrants came with everything they thought they needed to survive because no new supply ships would be reaching them anytime soon and their seed for crops would all require a full growing season to mature into edible stores. Apple trees, though slower to mature, were an important part of their cargo accompanied by hives of honey bees for pollination. Within a few years, the apple trees flourished and, with the help of worker bees, bore large crops of juicy, red fruit. The apple was a staple of the pioneer diet because it could be used in so many ways and was easy to preserve for the long, lean winter months. Not only was it eaten fresh and stored successfully in cool, underground cellars, but huge kettles cooked the apples down gently over an open fire into creamy apple sauce and apple butter. Crude cider mills popped up all over the countryside to produce both sweet and hard varieties. The apple could also be dried for eating or rehydrating later for pastries. Eventually, apple trees would find their way all across this great land we call home.

The apple became such a prominent part of the pioneer diet that communities came together each fall to pick, peel and cook down apples for their many uses. Peeling so many apples by hand was really tedious work, so entrepreneurs began coming up with tools for peeling all those apples, or paring, as they called it. Over the years, numerous types of apple peelers were invented, and some of them will be in use at Aldersgate next week. That’s because fall is apple pie-making time at Aldersgate. It’s been a tradition for quite some time and Aldersgate pies have gained a great reputation among the locals. So, if you have some time, check the schedule for peeling the fruit and assembling pies. Your help will be greatly appreciated.

And, if you have a hankering to re-create that sense of pioneering spirit by hanging a kettle over a fire to make apple butter outdoors, there are folks around our area who do that. Just locate a schedule of fall festivals for dates and information.

All this talk about apples reminds me of God’s ample provision for us. We see evidence of the apple, or something similar, all the way back to the Garden of Eden. God provided the fruit of life from the very beginning. Over the centuries it has been dev  eloped and hybridized to create the countless varieties we find in our markets today, and though man was certainly involved in the changes and developments, our God always has been and always will be in control. We can count on His daily provision, both physically and spiritually. Grab yourself a juicy red apple, polish it until it sparkles, take a bite and remember, we may have had a hand in growing it, but only God could create it.  

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. Psalm 23:1

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. Psalm 91:1

The wind is picking up, thunder is rolling through the surrounding hills, and the air is crackling with electricity. A storm is brewing and it looks to be a big one. We, here in the Ozarks, are no strangers to violent storms and this year has been a particularly busy one. Wind and hail have ravaged homes, taken lives, and left behind a weariness in many of us. The sound of storm sirens became all too familiar. We wondered if our property would survive the onslaught. In the aftermath, there were tree limbs to cut up and remove, sometimes entire trees were uprooted and toppled on homes and cars. And, of course, homes were often left without power, a state most of us find quite disconcerting. If we’re thinking ahead, there’ll be bottled water, non-perishable food, and batteries squirreled away for just such emergencies.

Also in the aftermath, we found the comradery of neighbors, working together on the clean-up and sharing what food we had before it spoiled. It’s amazing how people come together in times of trouble and offer help and hope to one another. I’ve felt a peace about our storms knowing that there are people around us that we can count on.

As soon as the initial clean-up is complete, we see signs of repair and rebuilding. Many of the homes in our neighborhood have new roofs, courtesy of hail damage…ours is waiting to be replaced now. Perhaps there’s a silver lining in there somewhere.

When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer. Psalm 94:19 NLT

Our nation experienced a storm of a different kind on September 11, 2001. Two commercial jets were deliberately flown into the World Trade Center in New York City with devastating results. Another struck the Pentagon in Washington DC, also inflicting great damage. A fourth was forced to the ground in an empty field in Pennsylvania, once it became clear to the pilots that they were doomed and that a group of passengers, having been made aware of the other attacks, determined their plane would harm no one but them.

Two groups of people, all believing in God, all sharing a common ancestor in Abraham, yet one group lives a life based solely on Old Testament traditions, while the other puts its faith and trust in a simple man from Galilee, who rewrote history with His birth, life, death, and resurrection. We are what is known by some as “the Jesus problem,” one that needs to be eradicated, but He won’t let that happen.

We know that the Son did not come to help angels; he came to help the descendants of Abraham. Hebrews 2:16

Let that verse sink in. Jesus came to help all the descendants of Abraham if we will let Him. We find our peace amid a storm that has been raging between believers and non-believers for over two thousand years and that same peace is available to us in every storm we face today. When we remain focused on Jesus, and keep our eyes and hearts trained on Him, the storm may keep raging around us, but we will rest in a cocoon of His protection. We can get through anything with Jesus by our side. Remember Peter walked on the water as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. It was only when he lost his focus that he began to sink.

Pastor Sarah recently told us, we need to question whether or not Jesus is in control of every aspect of our lives. If you’re experiencing a life storm right now, please take a moment and talk with my Jesus. Open your heart to Him and he’ll open His arms to you.

Nor’easters (storms) bear down on the best of us. Contrary winds. Crashing waves. They come. But Jesus still catches his children. He still extends his arms. He still sends his angels. Because you belong to him, you can have peace in the storm. Max Lucado, Anxious for Nothing

Whoever coined the phrase, ugly as sin, didn’t understand sin. It’s very attractive! Charles Tabb, from the novel, Gathering Twigs

Ken read this quote to me one day and I began to think about the truth it held. 

Have you ever really thought about what sin looks like? I don’t know about you, but I tend to see it as something ugly and vile, something so repulsive that I wouldn’t consider touching it. And in some cases, that would be true. Some evil is so blatantly obvious that it can’t be mistaken for anything but the sin it is.

In reality, most sin may as well be packaged up in fancy wrapping paper and enhanced by a glittering bow. It looks so good that ignoring it almost feels impossible. Sins can be tiny and we all tend to indulge sometimes, whether a little or a lot. When was the last time you engaged in a little neighborly chit-chat about all the other neighbors? When did you cross the street so as not to encounter someone you wanted to avoid? When did you let someone else take the blame for your mistake? Not a sin, you say, just a tiny indiscretion?

Under the right circumstances, you will do the wrong thing. You won’t want to. You’ll try not to, but you will. Why? You have a sin nature. You were born with it. We all are. Max Lucado, Because of Bethlehem

To the opposite extreme, some sins can become all-consuming. The shopping channels offer a never-ending array of glitter to choose from….and, after all, it just goes on the credit card. But what happens when the debt becomes suffocating? Or a friend offers a substance that will take away all your worries and make you feel great. Why not…it’s only this once and I really need a pick-me-up?

Sin finds its way to us in many shapes and colors. It travels toward us down wide avenues and narrow alleyways. It’s everywhere and almost always wears a very attractive and deceptive disguise. It likes to hide in dark places, often under cover of night. It creeps in when you least expect it and invariably finds you at your most vulnerable. And, in case you haven’t noticed, our culture is offering countless choices in very attractive packages.

 The heart of the human problem is the problem of the human heart. Each one of us entered the world with a sin nature. God entered the world to take it away. Max Lucado, Because of Bethlehem

So, how do we, as God’s own children, protect ourselves from the very attractive lure of sin? Talk to Him, make our personal covenant with Him, study His Word, and examine our hearts. Focus on the blessings we have rather than the glitter that seems to be missing from our lives. All that glitters is certainly not gold and what good is gold anyway? Our real treasure is truly in heaven.

A lovely lady recently came calling in our backyard and made herself at home suspended between the screen room and a holly bush. Her web is a work of art, perfectly woven for maximum effectiveness in trapping insects for dinner. She can spin her web in about an hour and often eats it late in the day, rest a bit, and weave another. She never ceases to amaze me.

Her artistry begins by lofting a silken thread upon the breeze and waiting for it to attach to an object perhaps two feet away. She travels to the center of the first strand and releases another, creating a “Y” shape. She continues in this manner, using non-sticky material, until she has built a wheel, of sorts, consisting of spokes attached to an outer frame. Finally, she weaves sticky strands between her spiral strands. Her task complete, she waits on a zipper-like structure near the center of the web for a tasty morsel to wander by and fall into her trap.

My yellow garden spider is a member of a very large family of arachnids known as orb-weavers. The name is derived from the circular shape which they are equipped to weave by the addition of a third claw on each foot. Other spiders have only two. You’ll note I’m referring to my guest as a lady and that’s because the female always spins the web and once she establishes her territory she’s typically there to stay for the season. She’s also a pretty docile spider and though she uses her venom to disable smaller insects, she will only bite a person if threatened. The bite resembles that of a bee sting. She’s quite tolerant of observers and so she makes a good subject for study.

Her instincts have enabled the yellow garden spider to weave an environment that will house her babies, trap their food, and rid our yard of a tidy number of annoying or harmful insects. A fun fact about yellow garden spiders is that the much smaller male attracts the female by plucking the strings of her web. I’m not sure he creates much of a song but the movement may very well be music to her ears.

Watching her work caused me to ponder whether the first human to take two strands of some natural material in hand with thoughts of weaving it together into something useful ever spent time observing the work of an orb-weaver.

The skill of weaving has been an integral element of human survival which later translated to artistry and it began many thousands of years ago. In fact, it is believed to be the oldest craft employed by humans. Early materials were readily at hand and much more coarse than later weavings, but they provided shelter in the form of woven branches and twigs. Baskets for storing and transporting all kinds of goods were constructed from reeds. Even ship’s sails were woven of natural materials. Somewhere along the line, women in Far Eastern countries began weaving silk and flax into beautiful fabrics. Ship owners transported finished goods and raw materials from port to port, country to country, making access much easier. Women everywhere were becoming proficient at creating not only essential wares for their homes but also beautiful fabrics for clothing. And make no mistake, just as with our orb-weaver, the art of weaving was a woman’s world. In fact, her skills at weaving brought credibility as a potential wife in those societies where arranged marriages were the norm.

Around the close of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth centuries, the Industrial Revolution birthed along the riverbanks of our New England states, changed the rules a bit. Mechanization brought greater risks to workers in the weaving trade and men assumed the labor of the more complicated and often dangerous machines. Massive textile mills remained there for several decades before relocating to the south where raw material, namely cotton, was plentiful. In more remote parts of our country, women continued to supply their homes with hand-woven materials and offered their skills to others as a source of income.

The skill of weaving has been a part of human culture, from primitive to modern. Still today, enthusiasts weave on wooden looms, both simple and extremely complicated, creating objects for everyday use and special places of honor. From survival to artistry, weaving has been a central theme to our existence.

How did it all begin? Well, maybe with one single orb-weaving spider. But wait….someone had to create her as well. Someone had to place all the necessary materials in just the right places at just the right times. Humans had to be given the mental skills and physical abilities to

collect those materials and reason through the process. Someone has to possess the ability to weave all the necessary pieces of life’s tapestry into place according to a pre-ordained rhythm.

How can I watch that beautiful lady resting on her intricate web alongside our sunroom and not know that God is in his heaven and that He has everything under control?

God, the master weaver. He stretches the yarn and intertwines the colors, the ragged twine with the velvet strings, the pains with pleasures. Nothing escapes his reach. Every king, despot, weather pattern, and molecule are at his command. He passes the shuttle back and forth across the generations, and as he does a design emerges. Max Lucado   

(Information regarding the orb-weavers can be found on the websites of the Missouri Department of Conservation and the National Wildlife Federation.)