Music Monday

It seems like several of my Music Monday videos are taken from Soul Train broadcasts.  Interestingly enough, I don't ever remember watching Soul Train when it was on TV -- certainly never when I was in high school.  My family only had one television and you can bet that my father wasn't going to listen to that "music."  He had an adjective that he used to describe the kind of music that you could hear on Soul Train, but I won't bother to use it here.  : /    

As I watched this video I tried to decide if Al Wilson was wearing a pink suit or if it's just the stage lighting that makes it look as if it's light pink.  His shirt looks like it's white, so maybe the suit is pink.  No matter, he looks great.  And what about Don Cornelius?  Talk about looking and sounding great -- he has a truly big a** afro and the most incredible voice.  It's so sad that he committed suicide not quite three months ago.

I don't think I ever danced to Show and Tell and, even now, I'm not sure exactly how I would dance to it.  The tempo isn't really fast, but it isn't a slow dance tempo either.  I have a feeling that in 1973-74 when the song was most popular, the white kids probably slow danced to it and, just like you see in the video, the black kids moved a little faster.  Al's up on stage by himself, but the song practically begs for some backup dancers/singers swaying and twirling in the background.

A lot has happened in the 38 years since Show and Tell was #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, but it is still a smooth, sultry song.  If I knew someone who liked to dance, I wouldn't mind trying to figure out what tempo would suit it best.  : )

        

Mother - Daughter time

Today was a nice day.

E drove over from West Lafayette and met me at church in time for the 11:00 worship service.  After church she treated me to a mocha and a blueberry scone at Starbucks before she had to be at a bridal shower for one of her best friends from high school.  On her way out of town, she stopped by the house to look at a few decorative accents I thought she might want to have for their home in Virginia.

We really weren't able to spend much time together, but I loved the time that we did get to share.  I wish we lived closer to one another.  In light of how far apart we will be when she moves to Virginia, West Lafayette could actually be considered "close" by comparison.  : /

I love you E and I treasure our time together.  : )

A day at the races

MACRA regatta in Grand Rapids, Michigan

Heaven on Earth

Holland, Michigan

Thankful Thursday

Before I got married, one of my biggest worries about married life was "what will I fix for dinner every night."  Some women were probably worried about sex or step-children or moving away from their hometown, but I was worried about coming up with ideas for dinner night after night after night . . . .

Well, thirty plus years later, it's still a struggle to make meal decisions.  In fact it's even harder now that G is a pescetarian than it was when I was an inexperienced newlywed and meat was an integral part of our meals.

Tonight I had absolutely no interest in fixing or eating dinner.  G asked what we were having and I wanted to say, "Do we have to have dinner?"  I had peeked in the freezer and found some mussels in a tomato garlic broth (pescetarians do eat fish and seafood) so I offered that as a possibility with some rice.  G wasn't impressed with that offer.  So I threw out what seemed to me like a bottom of the barrel suggestion, baked beans and a veggie burger, and he thought that sounded great!  Go figure.

I'm thankful that G is pretty flexible about what we eat for dinner.  He will happily fix his own meals if I'm not feeling well or will be gone for the evening.  While he could certainly step it up in the compliment department when I do make the effort to fix something special, at least he is easygoing and not demanding about what I do cook (or not cook, as the case may be).

Accomplished!

Today was an extremely productive day and that's a very good thing.

I arrived at my friend J's house at 9:30 and once the oven pre-heated, I started baking.  A little over 2 hours and 12 dozen cookies later, I was finished!  Yay for the opportunity to use a full size oven!!!  Thank you J!

As a special thank you for J, I stopped at Trader Joe's and picked up pulled pork, pretzel buns, and fresh mango for us to have for lunch.  I also left her a gift box of Trader Joe's assorted chocolates as a surprise thank you.  I hope she finds it sooner rather than later.

And the icing on my wonderfully productive day?  J's cat, Phantom, finally warmed up to me and let me pet and love him.

Fabulous!  

So much to do

My time management skills are sorely lacking.  Really, non-existent.

I have a lot of baking to do for this weekend and Wednesday and Thursday are the only days I can do it -- well I could have started yesterday or today, but I'd like it all to be as fresh as possible.  I needed to spend most of today getting everything pulled together so I would be ready to go first thing in the morning, but did I?

Of course not.

On the plus side, at least I finished the raspberry jello salad for the Women's Bible Study dinner tomorrow evening.  That's one less thing that will be hanging over my head in the morning.

Music Monday

I'm going back to high school with this song.  I'm pretty sure I slow danced to this song at a Homecoming or prom or both.  For certain I know that my friends and I sang along when this song came on the car radio -- especially when it came to the "you will never, never, never know me" part.

There is just something so plaintive and true about the music and lyrics.  It made me ache then and it still makes me ache now (maybe even more).

Teddy Pendergrass is amazing in this song.  But omgee, these outfits are a perfect example of everything that was wrong with 70's fashion.  Seriously, the guy in the royal blue has a nipple cutout -- what the h*ll was that costume designer smoking?  That one detail makes the midriff shirts, way wide collars, and tuxedo tails that appear to be attached to the polyester pants (or are they attached to a faux cummerbund or the shirt itself?) seem perfectly normal.  Looking at these color combinations, I feel like I'm shopping at Old Navy, where their colors always seem to be just a little bit off.  In the 70's, a lot of black soul groups wore super-sharp suits in bold colors -- purple, orange, maroon, yellow -- but these outfits are an odd cross of track warm-up suits and, in regards to the tightness in the crotch area, speed skating suits.  Fortunately the music is so smooth and sorrowful, that almost every time I listen to this sound, I close my eyes, tilt back my head, and let it rip.

From 1972, #1 on the US R&B charts, Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes with Teddy Pendergrass -- "If You Don't Know Me By Now"

 

Petra Pan

Peter Pan is boy who didn't want to grow up.  So what is the female equivalent of Peter Pan? 

I've decided it's Petra Pan.  At first I thought of Peter Pam, but that doesn't really work, so I needed to come up with a girl's first name that was a variant of Peter.  I found Pernella, Perri, Perrin, Pierette, and Petra.  Since Peter means "rock" and Petra also means "rock" and visually is the most like Peter, I decided to go with Petra.

So now, in my mind, Petra Pan is a girl who doesn't want to grow up.  Petra is me

In many ways I'm already grown up, but in some very definite ways, I've never grown up.  And in some ways I would like to go back to those days when I didn't have responsibilities (or at least not very many) and it seemed like my whole life was still ahead of me -- untold adventures and possibilities just around the bend and waiting on the horizon.

Petra Pan . . . maybe in my dreams.

Will it ever end???

Today I worked on going through a box of cassette tapes from GAI's.

One box.  It took me all afternoon. 

I should have counted how many tapes there were, but I was so focused on wanting to get through the box that I didn't bother.  As was true with her extensive book library, GAI must have belonged to a record club . . . or two or three.  She had a lot of tapes that were from Reader's Digest and RCA.  I can only assume that she never bothered to return the order slip each month to say "no thank you, I do not want the selection for this month."  She probably just thought that no matter what type of music it was, she would listen to it and enjoy it.

There were a lot of classical selections and easy listening music from the 40's through the 70's.  Jim Nabors seemed to be a favorite.  I was surprised to discover a decent amount of country artists.  Most of the tapes were sets or "best of" compilations.  One set had five cassettes, but most of them only had two or three cassettes.  I was able to pair up almost every set and I managed to find a case for every tape -- no small feat, let me tell you!  And just as with the girdles (sigh) there were duplications.  GAI had three of the same two-cassette set of the 50 greatest church songs.  Three!

Monday G will take the large, heavy box of cassettes to the resale shop that our church operates.  (M worked there two summers ago.)  I hope that someone who loves classical music or Julio Iglesias or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir or Eddy Arnold will buy the tapes and enjoy them.  I will be happy to have them out of my house. 

Change is not good

What I'm going to post today is not what I intended to post.  I had something entirely different in mind.  Until I signed in to blogger and saw . . . this.

(Imagine my voice saying "this" in a totally disgusted tone, complete with eye roll.)

This.  The "new look" blogger.

Je ne l'aime pas.  Pas du tout.

Having to adapt to blogger's new layout, coupled with my impending switch to the latest version of Firefox is making me stressed and twitchy.  And I have enough on my plate right now without adding helpings of stressed and twitchy.

Why blogger, why?

I loved you just the way your were.  : //  

Thankful Thursday

I'm thankful for two things today -- second chances and making the most of second chances.

Second semester of her freshman year, M took an introductory psychology class.  For a number of reasons, she didn't do very well.  In fact, she got a C minus.  : /   Initially M thought she might retake the class in an effort to get a better grade and boost her GPA.  As time went by, she seemed to put that idea to the back of her mind.  So far back in fact that she forgot about it until she began to more carefully research entrance requirements for Occupational Therapy masters programs.  That's when she discovered that most programs would not consider applicants who had anything lower than a C in requirements toward the undergraduate major.  Psychology is a required course.

So this semester M enrolled in Introductory Psychology again, but this time she chose to take a hybrid class.  Most of the material was available online and the physical, on-campus class with a TA only met once a week for a recitation session.  On Monday she took her last regular test and did really well.  So well in fact that the 97% she earned in the class means that she doesn't have to take the final exam.

I'm thankful that M had a chance to retake the psychology class.  Under certain circumstances, Purdue allows students to retake a class and, if the student improves their grade, they remove any record of the first attempt -- both enrollment in the class and the lower grade.  Naturally the student's GPA is adjusted accordingly.

I'm also thankful that M took her second chance seriously.  Without the stress and heartbreak she experienced during spring semester '10, I know she would have done better in psychology the first time around.  Two years later she didn't remember much from the first class, so it was as if she really was taking the class for the very first time.  I'm proud of M and happy for her that her dedication and hard work paid off so well.

Wanted: a job and patience

Jobs are hard to come by these days.  One person I know was unemployed for almost two years.  Another person is still looking for a job almost three years after he was laid off.  Patience and persistence are definitely necessary requirements in order to survive the ups and downs of a job search.

For a Christian, faith is perhaps the most important component in a job search, or any time of trial or uncertainty.  1 Peter 5:7 says to "cast all your anxiety on Him because He care for you."  Likewise, in Philippians 4:6, the apostle Paul counsels to "not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."  

These are the passages of Scripture that I am praying back to the Lord on behalf of E and her job search.          

A milestone

Yesterday wasn't just Music Monday; it was also a monumental milestone.

Yesterday's post was my 300th post since I started (ab)normal fifteen months ago!

Woo hoo!

There were times when I wondered if I would make it to my 100th post, let alone the 300th.  Most of the time I really look forward to writing.  Other times, not so much.  But I am glad that I made the decision to start blogging and I'm glad that I've persevered through some of the "dry" times.  I really think that blogging has helped me with the writing I do for my extremely part-time ghost writing job.

So here's to 300, 301 . . . .   : )

Music Monday

This song and I go back a long way.  When What's Going On debuted in January 1971, I was in seventh grade.  I'm not sure when I heard the song for the first time, but it is forever in my mind united with U of  I basketball.

Growing up in central Illinois, there was only one college basketball team to follow, only one college basketball team worthy of our loyalty, the Fighting Illini of the University of Illinois.  My dad was a dedicated, maybe even rabid, U of I fan and we watched all of the games that were broadcast on Saturday afternoons.  While I enjoyed the games (unless the team played poorly and my dad yelled at the TV) what I really looked forward to was the program that came on after the game.

I can't even tell you the name of the program.  What I do remember was the theme song that played at the beginning of the show -- Marvin Gaye singing What's Going On.  If I was really lucky, I would be able to hear most of the song before my dad yelled at someone to change the channel.  This was back in the dark ages before the invention of the television remote control.  It's hard to believe that someone actually had to physically go to the TV and turn a knob to change to a different station.  Needless to say, that someone was usually me or my brother, not my dad.

I do recall this particular program was a production of WILL, the PBS television station operated by the University, and the show dealt with black issues (although at that time we would have said Negro or colored).  I can only imagine that the topic of the program was the reason my father had no interest in watching the show.

I chose this YouTube video because the images (some of them disturbing) accurately reflect the turmoil in the United States at the time the song was introduced and that turmoil was also the impetus for Marvin Gaye, Renaldo "Obie" Benson, and Al Cleveland as they wrote the lyrics.  What's Going On was destined to become one of the great Vietnam protest songs of the 70's in the same vein as Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's Ohio and Edwin Starr's War.

At the time, I didn't get the bigger picture; I just liked the song.  Now, the sentiments the song express are all too familiar and, sadly, are still appropriate for the world today.

            

When appliances attack

What a day.

The big project for today was to move the washer and dryer at GAI's house up from the basement and out to the alley.  The village does large pickups on Friday, no charge.  K's boyfriend, KC, said he would help G get the job done.  Bless you KC, but I bet you'll never make a similar offer again.  NEVER. 

First challenge -- water in the basement from the rain last night.  I didn't think it had rained that much, but I guess it did.  : /  G took care of most of the water before K and KC arrived, but the floor was still damp and slick.

We decided to eat lunch first so the guys would be fueled for their task.  After lunch, K helped move some things off of the steps and G and KC took the basement door and the back door off their hinges so they would be able to maneuver the washer and dryer through the doorways.  They loaded the washer onto the hand cart, bunjeed it in place, and started up the steps.  KC went up the steps first, pulling on the handle of the two-wheeler with G at the bottom of the steps, guiding the load and helping to push.  It seemed to be working well, but KC is 6' 4".  It was difficult for him to bend down several steps to grab the handle of the cart and then have enough leverage to hoist it upward.  G suggested they switch places.

Everything was going great . . . until it wasn't.

I'm still not sure what happened, but all of a sudden there was a horrible sound of clanging metal as the washer started to slide, then bounce, then careen down the stairs -- straight toward KC!  I think I yelled, "Oh my God!" and then "Are you alright?"  K was outside on the stoop, waiting to hold the screen door open for G and KC.  She rushed into the kitchen to see what had happened.       

Thanks be to God, KC was okay.  He must have the reflexes of a mongoose or a cat or a star-nosed mole (which even though it's blind, apparently has the fastest reflexes of any animal on earth) because he was able to leap out of the way before the very heavy washer could crash into him and pin him against the basement wall.  I wish I could say that he escaped unscathed, but unfortunately he suffered two bad scrapes/scratches on his left forearm and an abrasion on his shoulder.  I'm sure he will be sore and bruised when he wakes up in the morning.  : /

I can't describe how scared I was when I didn't know if KC was seriously hurt, and I also can't describe how deeply sorry I am that this accident happened.  To his credit, KC shook it off and said he was fine.  He genuinely seemed to be telling the truth and insisted on getting back to work -- after we checked him over and everyone had a chance to let their heart rate settle into a somewhat normal range.

On the second try, with additional bungee cords for increased security, the washer went up the stairs without a hitch and moving the dryer (lots lighter than the washer) was equally uneventful.

Ai yi yi.  I wouldn't blame KC if he never wanted anything more to do with us.  After the moving was finished and the two doors were back in place, we had dessert -- cheesecake, KC's favorite.  But seriously, there's not enough cheesecake in the world to make up for almost killing someone with a washer masquerading as a charging bull.

Thunder and lightning

It's raining;
It's pouring.
When I go to bed
my husband better not be snoring.

Okay, so that's not how the nursery rhyme goes, but right now it is raining pretty hard and there is thunder and lightning.  After not having any precipitation for quite some time it is a little odd to finally hear rain beating against the siding.

I don't really like rain, but at least it's falling during the nighttime.  Tomorrow K and KC are going to help us move a washer and dryer up from GAI's basement.  Hopefully the skies will be clear then.  : /

What makes me happy

blue skies and fluffy white clouds

sunshine

warm breezes

sleeping in

music, just about any type

ice cream

shopping

spending time with my parents

kittens and cats

fresh fruit

singing

spending time with my kids

hot tea -- Constant Comment

the scent of lilacs and lavendar

the truth and beauty of Scripture

dark chocolate and caramel

the blue velvet nighttime sky after the sun has set
gin and tonic

giving gifts to family and friends

driving at night

laughing

Thankful Thursday

I've already complained about my disappointing Easter with family last Saturday.  The day just didn't turn out like I hoped that it would.  : /

My oldest child, E, has often said that Easter is her favorite holiday.  I wonder if she would still say that after this most recent Easter?  Knowing E, she probably would, because she has the proper attitude about what makes Easter a day for rejoicing.  

It's not about bunnies or fluffy chicks.  It's not about a scrumptious meal.  It's not even about spending quality time with family.

Easter is all about Jesus.  Without His sacrificial death on the cross, without His resurrection, Easter is just another Sunday in spring.  Without Jesus at the center of the celebration, Easter is nothing more than an excuse to buy fancy new clothes, hunt for colorful plastic eggs filled with trinkets, and gorge on milk chocolate rabbits.

G and I were blessed to worship at a sorrowfully beautiful Good Friday service and an equally beautiful and joyous Easter morning service at our church.  In both instances, the music, scriptures, and message helped us to focus directly on Jesus.  On Easter morning there was no ambiguity, no false exultation in the glories of spring in nature -- the birth of tiny lambs or the chirps of baby robins.  Instead, every aspect of the worship service proclaimed Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, the Risen Lord and Savior of the world.

I'm thankful that G and I attend a church that is focused on Jesus -- worshiping Him, serving Him, making Him known.  But more importantly, I am thankful for Jesus.  He willingly paid the penalty for my sin; He died the death that I deserve.  His love and sacrifice for me is a gift beyond measure, worthy of my eternal gratitude.             

On the outside looking in

That pretty much describes how I've felt most of my life.  It definitely describes high school and college.

I hoped that when I entered the "real world" the situation would change, but in many ways it hasn't.  When I was working, I had friends and, for the most part, I felt as if I fit in . . . but really, I didn't.

Saturday we celebrated Easter at my in-laws.  As an aside, it's a lie to say that we celebrated Easter because there wasn't any Easter -- no mention or reverence for the crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Jesus -- to it.  What we really did was get together and eat a mediocre meal and sort of talk to one another.  As families go, we're so lame we don't even put the fun in dysfunctional.  : // 

You would think if I would feel like I belonged anywhere, it would be with family.  You would be wrong.

The day was a disaster.  My husband didn't want to be there, although he did behave himself.  E, N, and M came over from West Lafayette and K was there too.  All of my immediate family were there; that should have been a plus.  Wrong again.

My MIL is 79 and not in great health.  She really is too old to fix a big meal for a large group (there were 13 of us).  When we arrived she was working on appetizers with one of my SILs.  It wasn't going very well.  I stepped in to see how I could help.  My children plopped down on the sofa and chatted amongst themselves.  Almost two hours later, when dinner was ready, I emerged from the kitchen.

My in-laws had set up two tables for dinner: the one in the living room was set very snugly for five; the larger table in the dining room was set for eight.  My husband and kids filled up the table for five, so that meant I had to sit at the dining room table with the in-laws.

Nothing against my in-laws -- mother, step-father, sisters, brother, nephew and niece, but I really wanted to sit with my kids.  I don't get to see E, N, and M very often and this was my only chance to talk with them as they were heading back to Indiana as soon as dinner was finished. 

So I sat at the dining room table and made conversation with everyone else.  I could faintly hear the conversation at my family's table, but I couldn't hear everything and I certainly couldn't participate without yelling across the room.  I was definitely on the outside of their fellowship, looking in and wishing that I could join in.

I would like to be able to say I was an adult about the situation, but I can't, because I wasn't.  I was pouty and ticked off and I felt sorry for myself because I got stuck slaving away in the kitchen while my children (who must have been raised by wolves) never offered to help.  My youngest SIL claimed that the other SIL offered to help out, but I didn't hear her.  By the time she and her family showed up (1 1/2 hours late) the work was pretty much finished anyway.

When I hugged M and told her good-bye, I said it didn't even feel like she had been home because I hadn't even had a chance to talk to her.  She just sort of shrugged.  E didn't seem to feel that it was a big deal either.  She said she would call me the next day and we could talk then.

Just as on other occasions, I guess being together, sharing a meal, and talking means more to me than it does to my husband and kids.  If I feel like I'm on the outside looking in, I can't really blame it on anyone else.  It must be my fault.

A step backward

March was so nice.  Incredibly nice.  Record setting nice -- the warmest March ever.

Now it's April and we've taken a giant step backward.  : /

Tons of flowers and bushes are green and blooming and tonight the temps are going to go below freezing.  Right now at our house, the temperature is already 31 degrees.  The predicted low is 30 degrees.  Something tells me the weather forecaster underestimated.  : /

Music Monday

I'm showing my age with this song.  I mean really showing my age because I wasn't in high school when this song came out.  I wasn't even in college.  I was married and had three kids.  Hey, just because I was over 30 didn't mean I couldn't recognize a great song when I heard one!

It wasn't until I recently listened to this song that I heard the overt religious and scriptural references in the lyrics.  When the song first came out, I had just recently started attending a Bible study and the Lord was opening my heart and mind to truths that I hadn't fully realized in all the years that I had attended church.

Some people might think this song is about an earthly romantic relationship.  But I truly believe that it describes the relationship a Christian has with Jesus, the lover of their soul.  Only God can fill the hole in our hearts, the longing that we have to be fully known and loved.  God creates us and, when we give our lives to Him, His Spirit completes us.

I know that not all of Extreme's songs are spiritual, or even wholesome, but this one is, and I love it.

     

Resurrection Day

I can't even begin to imagine how many times, how many Easter mornings, I've sung Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.

Christ the Lord is ris'n today, Alleluia!

Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!

Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!

Sing, ye heav'ns, and earth reply, Alleluia! 

Love's redeeming work is done, Alleluia!

Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!

Death in vain forbids Him rise, Alleluia!

Christ has opened Paradise, Alleluia! 

Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia!

Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!

Dying once He all doth save, Alleluia!

Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia! 

Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!

Foll'wing our exalted Head, Alleluia!

Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!

Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia! 

 

He is risen!  He is risen indeed.  Hallelujah!

Anticipation

Anticipation: the time from the end of the Good Friday service to the first note of the trumpet voluntary on Easter morning.

Anticipation: expecting to find the tomb empty. 

Anticipation: looking forward to and living each day as if Jesus' return is imminent.  

A glimpse of heaven

I think I had a glimpse of heaven tonight at the Good Friday service at our church.

A harpist played the prelude music and then the Chancel Choir stood at the back of the sanctuary and sang the introit before they processed down the center aisle and up the platform steps to the choir loft at the front of the church. 

Eighty voices raised in praise filled every corner of the sanctuary with sweet a cappella perfection. 

It was beautiful; it was inspiring, and it is what I hope it will be like in heaven.

Thankful Thursday

This.  I am thankful for this.

Thank you Father God for sending your Son to earth to become the Son of Man and the perfect Lamb of God.  And thank you Lord Jesus for giving me a gift I could never earn and didn't deserve.  Thank you for willingly paying the penalty for my sins by bearing them in your sinless body on the cross.

Is your compass working?

I doubt if I could accurately use a compass.  I know the general principle behind the instrument, but I don't think I've ever used one.  Fortunately I have a fairly good sense of direction.

Tonight at Bible study we were discussing our study of the Book of Nahum, and specifically Nahum's vision of the utter destruction of Nineveh, a city that once was greater than Thebes.

Nahum told the Ninevites that the Lord God was a jealous and avenging God who would take vengeance on His adversaries.  And the evil, wicked, rebellious, unrepentant Ninevites were definitely enemies of the Holy God of Israel.  Over one hundred years before, Jonah had prophesied to the Ninevites of the Lord's impending judgement; they repented of their sin and God withheld His wrath.

This time there would be no escape for these sinners.  The city of Nineveh would be completely destroyed, its treasures plundered and its people (those who survived) humiliated in the worst possible way.  No one would feel even the tiniest bit of sympathy for the Ninevites, for everyone had either suffered at their hands or knew of their unceasing evil.

What could have spared the Ninevites from devastation and death?  Perhaps a working compass.   

Easter

Easter cards.

Music Monday

It's Holy Week, so I'm taking a break from my usual Motown, soul, R&B offerings.  I thought it would be appropriate to post a song that reflects the progression from Palm Sunday to Good Friday and finally Easter Sunday -- Resurrection Day!

I really like this song, God Will Provide a Lamb, by Michael Card.  And I also like this video version of the song; I think the graphics are a great compliment to the music.

Perhaps one of the reasons I like this song so much is because, through it, God allowed me to have one of those "light bulb moments" that I love. Many years ago I attended a Women's Bible Study brunch where a woman sang this song.  I think we had probably studied Genesis that semester.  As the woman spoke for a bit before she began, I realized I knew what song she was going to sing.  I was familiar with the song and might even have heard Michael Card perform it when I saw him at a Friday Night Sing at Moody.

All of a sudden God opened my mind and showed me the deeper meaning beyond the story related in the lyrics.  The song tells the story of Abraham and his beloved son Isaac, the son of the promise, journeying to Mount Moriah where the Lord God has instructed Abraham to sacrifice his son.  The Biblical account doesn't fill in many details, but it does say, "And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it on Isaac his son; and he took in his hand the fire and the knife.  So they went both of them together." Genesis 22:6

Abraham took the wood that would become the burning pyre that would consume his son, and he laid it on Isaac's back and together they climbed to the top of the mountain where God had commanded Abraham to sacrifice Isaac.

For the first time I saw the parallel of Abraham's sacrifice of his son and God's sacrifice of His son, Jesus.  Just as Jesus willingly and obediently carried* the cross, the instrument of His torturous crucifixion, to Golgotha, Isaac also, in obedience to his father, bore the burden of the wood for his own sacrifice to the summit of Mount Moriah.

Two fathers and two sons: loving fathers who no doubt wished that somehow there could be another option, a way that would spare the lives of their beloved sons; and obedient sons -- One who knew the pain and horror that lay ahead and another who had no clue.  Yet both sons fully trusted their fathers and willingly obeyed their commands.

What beautiful illustrations of faith and obedience are found in these fathers and sons.  Abraham trusted that even though God was asking him to sacrifice Isaac -- the son he and Sarah had waited years for, the child with whom God promised to establish an everlasting covenant -- somehow God would be faithful to His promise and Isaac's life would be restored.  Abraham was willing to obey God because he trusted Him and He had proven Himself faithful.

Isaac trusted his father, Abraham.  As they traveled on, Isaac asks Abraham where is the lamb for the sacrifice and Abraham responds, "God will provide himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son." Genesis 22:8  When they came to the precise spot that God had indicated, Abraham "built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar, upon the wood." Genesis 22:9b    

Isaac wasn't a toddler or even a scrawny ten year-old.  He was most likely an adolescent.  He was obviously big and strong enough to carry the wood for the sacrifice on his back and, in light of that, he was probably also big and strong enough to fight off his elderly father as he bound him and laid him on the altar.  It seems that, unless he was unconscious, Isaac must have cooperated with Abraham. 

What was the conversational exchange between the two of them?  Did Isaac ask his father if he had lost his mind?  Did Abraham promise Isaac that God would bring him back from the dead?  Did they cry, embrace, pray?  

Ultimately, Isaac trusted his father Abraham, and Abraham trusted God the Father. God did provide a lamb for the sacrifice and Isaac's life was spared.  

Neither Abraham nor Isaac could see into the future, but if they could, they would have seen that their test of faith would pale in comparison to the faith and obedience the Son of God would offer to His Father as He became the Lamb of God, the perfect sacrifice for all mankind. 

Just as God provided the lamb that enabled Abraham to spare his son from death, God has provided a Lamb for me.  Because He did not spare His Son, but offered Him as the perfect sacrifice for my sin, my life has been spared.  Jesus, the Lamb of God, willingly died in my place.  By Christ's obedience to His father, God has provided a Lamb for all who believe on the name of His Son.

 
* Some gospel accounts say that Simon of Cyrene walked behind Jesus and carried the cross.                          

Palm Sunday

I remember Palm Sunday when my kids were younger.  In my mind's eye I can still see their sometimes smiling, sometimes serious faces as they processed to the front of the church, palms held high.

E and M tended to be enthusiastic wavers.  K was more sedate, as if she was trying to wave in a way that would be appropriate for church.

Most Palm Sundays, the children's choir would sing at all of the Sunday morning services.  That made for an early wake-up and a long morning at church.  It wasn't always easy to get everyone dressed and out the door on time, but it was worth the effort in order to give my children the opportunity to praise Jesus and to assist in worship. 

I miss those Palm Sundays.  I wonder if the Lord will bless me with the chance to see my children's children and their smiling faces as they wave their palms and praise the Messiah.