Author Cathy Messecar speaks at local and national women's retreats, social clubs, and writing guilds. Her inspirational columns ran in Houston Community Newspapers (11 years, 600 columns). She authored A Still and Quiet Soul: Embracing Contentment, The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom, and other gift books.
"Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." , the words of Jesus
A dark, December evening, my family was readying to leave on a short holiday trip. We loaded our pickup with gifts, food and two young children, Russell and Sheryle. The pickup had one bench seat. With two kids squeezed between us, my husband began driving toward Dallas.
Into the trip only a minute, Sheryle asked, "What's this furry thing sitting on my lap?" I immediately reached over and found the "furry thing" to be a very quiet farm kitten. We U-turned and dropped the feline off so she could spend Christmas with her siblings. We suspect a little girl had smuggled the cat on board. For several reasons, it was expedient to get rid of trip inessentials.
Our minister's sermon series, Living Rich Simply, prompted my husband and me to start eliminating household knick-knacks. Our shelves and cupboards overloaded, we decided non-essentials had to go because we are packing light for the rest of our earthly trip.
After a season of gift giving, we always have more possessions in our possession. For the future, I have gift giving goals—to gift things that take up temporary residence: soaps, fragrances, scented candles, money, or food. I'll consider any item that can be consumed, melted down, sprayed out, burned up, or spent in a year. I am strongly yearning for less in my house, and I suspect my friends and family are, too.
The accumulation in my home is not due entirely to gifts received. The other 364 days in a year contribute collections of cardboard rolls; twist-ties; the plastic thingumajig that broke off the whatchamacallit; junk mail; and all the extra buttons, knobs, and nails saved for an emergency. Haven't needed them yet, but we are prepared.
David and I decided we're not collecting anything more than wrinkles this side of eternity. It's a good thing that God will not allow the Messecars to take things out of this world because heaven would look like Sanford's junkyard.
On earth, I could get by with a lot less in order to do a lot more for Him. If I don't control possessions, they control me. I find myself dusting teapots instead of cooking stew for an ill neighbor, polishing silver instead of praying in my prayer garden. I want to watch for hitchhikers.
When my adult daughter Sheryle visits home and says, "Mom, after you're gone, may I have the Prussian Princess figurine?"
I say, "Why wait? She hasn't traveled in a while. Take her now."
If all goes as planned, there will be fewer trinkets in the Messecar household—we have to make room for all those wrinkles.
Lord God, snuff out my desire for possessions. Increase my desire to seek the kingdom. In the name of Jesus who near the end of his life owned a one-piece tunic and beyond that clothing not much else. Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com
"... They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." ( NIV)
"Y'all come." Cline Paden said those were the sweetest words a young boy could hear. Those words meant the Paden family had an invitation to dinner after Sunday morning worship.
During the Great Depression, food was often scarce so an invitation to dine at a neighbor's house signaled a plentiful week. A growing boy knew the host's table would most likely be laden with mouthwatering fried chicken and homegrown vegetables. Boys with cavernous stomachs could eat their fill.
Sadly, "Y'all come" is spoken less and less in my busy life. Most ancestors' food production was labor-intensive from seed and stall to table. My great grandmothers grew their own vegetables, milked cows, churned butter, baked bread, made jam, wrung chicken necks and fried their own chickens.
These chores were part of rearing large families. Yet, women still made time to invite neighbors to "sit a spell." They also set aside time to prepare a pot roast and have the visiting preacher over to eat Sunday dinner. Today, far too many neighbors are strangers to me. Sometimes the color of a neighbor's car and house is all that's known about those who live near me.
Desiring to be more hospitable, I planned a luncheon for a few people I wanted to get to know better. I invited the moms and children to meet me for an early blueberry picking at a nearby farm. Afterward, we'd eat a light lunch at my home. Luncheon day arrived, and the phone began to ring with cancellations. A sick child. A Saturn slipped a transmission. Hard candy broke a tooth. Need to go to the dentist. Pet cat broke a toenail.
As I walked out the door at 9:00 a.m. to go pick blueberries, my daughter phoned from her workplace to see how preparations were going. I explained my dilemma of too much food and no diners, and she suggested bringing the secretaries in her office over for lunch. The "working girls" were delighted by the impromptu invitation to eat homemade chicken salad and munch on fresh blueberry muffins.
Strangers began eating at my table that day, but when the final iced tea was sipped, new friendships had begun. One girl eventually began a Bible study with us and later became a Christian.
encourages me to "practice hospitality." The words hospice, hospital, and host embody the idea of treating strangers as guests. Hospitality isn't limited to meals, but the simplest form of entertaining usually does include a meal.
Although modern food conveniences and microwaves have decreased my kitchen workload, I still find issuing meal invitations a challenge. I've yet to serve popcorn as a main course, but I've discovered meal ingredients need not be fancy. In a pinch, I've served takeout food to my kitchen diners, and even when the house was a bit mussed, guests truly didn't seem to mind folding the laundry while I diced potatoes for the soup.
My goal is to host more strangers, to practice hospitality, to phone more neighbors and say, "Y'all come."
Father, thank you for preserving in scripture the intimate dining scenes of Jesus and his disciples that express exact images of your care. In the name of the seashore Jesus, who kept food warm over burning coals and waited for his friends. Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com.
"... I tell you the truth, you will ask the Father directly, and he will grant your request because you use my name." ( NLT)
A new prayer-priority emerged for me: to remember my High Priest Jesus interceding throughout the day. After reading Ruth Gibson's Chipped Dishes, Zippers & Prayer, I longed to be aware and give thanksgiving for the different ways Jesus helped me each day.
When Ms. Gibson's children were young, she had a difficult decision to make. She wanted to return to graduate school, and she closed her prayer for guidance, "In memory of Jesus, whose mother never went to college."
Ms. Gibson's prayers prompted soul-searching for me. The typical closing phrase after my prayers was "In Jesus' name." Over the years, those final words became a habitual prayer component. Instead of acknowledging the way Jesus life-supported me on any given day, I merely repeated a phrase heard since childhood.
To recognize the hand of the Savior in my daily life became very important to me. Paul understood the abiding presence of Jesus and wrote about the spiritual boosts he received,
"That’s why I work and struggle so hard, depending on Christ’s mighty power that works within me." ( NLT)
I began to notice that on some days Jesus became my Prince of Peace. On others, he revealed himself as Counselor. And one particular night, he crossed stormy seas to climb into my rocking boat.
Nave's Topical Bible lists over 200 names and titles for Jesus. Here are a few: Servant of Rulers, Faithful and True Witness, Good Master, Finisher of faith, Captain of the Lord's Host, Righteous Judge, Sanctuary, Vine, Door, Fountain, Arm of the Lord and a Friend of Sinners.
The Hebrew writer's instructions to "fix your thoughts on Jesus," and "consider him" became a daily goal. After a time, for I'm a slow-learner, I began to recognize Jesus' care to be constant, conformed to my need, and energizing.
Ruth Gibson was a link in bringing me to a deeper relationship with my Savior. One day, I spoke with her and expressed my thanks because her written prayers led me to holy ground.
Father, You spoke to Moses, Joshua, and the priests about holy places. Now I'm remembering the barefoot Christ and his sacrifice for me. Please, forgive me the careless times I've tagged the name of Jesus at the end of my prayers. I ask in the name of the seventy-times-seven forgiving Savior. Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com
"I am the bread of life." the Words of Jesus
Every ten days I feed my sourdough bread starter whether it wants to eat or not. That's the beginning process for making bread at our house. Forty-eight hours later, my family has three fresh loaves of the yummy-smelling bread.
Bread, a diet staple for man, contains a mixture of grain and water. The earliest forms of bread were baked on hot stones, while Egypt gets credit for the first leavened bread and brick ovens. Yesteryear's coarse bread was nothing like today's commercially baked, enriched, sliced white bread.
In the 1900's in the United States, 95 percent of bread was baked at home. By 1950, commercial bakeries turned out 95 percent. When a child of 12 receives 75 percent of his calories from enriched bread, that amount supplies enough nutrition for sufficient growth.
However, the Bread of Life remains essential for good spiritual health. Jesus prescribed "daily requirements" when he said, "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God" ( ).
On one occasion, a crowd rushed after Jesus and caught up in the moment of chasing after him, only one in 5000 plus remembered to bring along food. As the day grew long, Jesus noticed their hunger, and a young boy donated his food to Jesus, who in turn prayed over the crusts.
In Jesus' hands, several loaves became thousands, and the usual processes of sowing seeds, sprouting, maturing, harvesting, grinding, mixing, and baking bypassed the usual months of labor leading up to sumptuous bread. After the meal, Jesus tried to leave the crowd, but many still trailed after him.
He knew their hearts. "You are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the loaves and had your fill." Not any different from people today, those crowds liked the quick fix for hungry bellies.
In this same setting, Jesus connected table bread and the bread of heaven to say about himself, "He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty."
In elementary school, my class took a field trip to Mrs. Baird's bakery in Houston, Texas. I still remember the line of fourth graders with our noses aloft, sniffing the yeasty scented air. Enticed, we became instant Baird fans. After the tour, each student received a slice of hot, buttered bread. Melted butter on warm bread lingers in my memory and is probably the best straight-out-of-the-oven bread I've ever sampled.
As good as that slice tasted, it will never compare to the true Staff of Life, the Bread of Heaven, Jesus Christ.
Father, Jesus, often the quest to fill my stomach is stronger than my desire for you. Please reverse my appetites, for you satisfy like no morsel of food. Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom, Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com
He who speaks on his own does so to gain honor for himself, but he who works for the honor of the one who sent him is a man of truth: there is nothing false about him. the words of Jesus
Abimelech and Isaac were two leaders of tribal families meeting to settle squabbles over wells of life-supporting water, a precious commodity. When Abimelech approached Isaac about making a peace treaty between them, one of his comments was, "We clearly saw that the Lord was with you" ( ).
Abimelech and his advisors saw how God blessed Isaac with a large inheritance, a wife, twin sons, many servants, livestock, and great wealth. Abimelech's words remind me of a longtime friend and mentor many lovingly called "Nannie." As newlyweds, my husband and I first met this silver-haired widow while we were looking for a church home. She quickly became my friend who, with her pattern of good works, taught me many things. Two particular life-lessons came from her example.
When she spoke to women's class about the death of her husband, many of us younger women clearly saw that the Lord was with her. "Nannie" and her husband were on vacation in Hawaii when he died in his sleep. Before summoning for help, she knelt by their bed and gave thanks to God for their marriage. Far from home and relatives, prayer came before she reached out to others for comfort.
A second strong impression of her devotedness to God was a phrase she used in praying at a women's luncheon meeting. In her prayer, "Nannie" included a profession of faith. I remember her words, "And, Lord, I confess to you that I believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God." Her refreshing verbal affirmation of Christ as Lord serves even today as a reminder to revere Christ with words and actions.
Abimelech's words "[w]e clearly saw . . ." also made me think about weather forecasting. When my children were at home and Mama wasn't happy, they sometimes forecasted a warning, an "emergency broadcast" to seek shelter before the storm. Blustery outbursts and stormy households can change, and should. For Christ-followers they need to change to clear and sunny where observers can clearly see lives yielding to the Holy Spirit.
As I grow older, I often wonder what my family and others observe in my life. Do they see me honoring the Lord? Do my friends expect to hear stories of God's intervention in my life? Do they hear whining about what went awry in my schedule?
I am still on the playing field. People are watching my actions, and I'm wondering what the view is from the bleachers.
Lord Jesus, you know that honoring the Father minute by minute is full time work, and you esteemed God perfectly. Aid me in doing the same because many "clearly saw the Lord was with you." Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com
If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea," and it will obey you.
The Master of Prayer encouraged small-faith disciples to go lumber jacking after big targets. Mountains and mulberry trees seem not to have much in common, but Jesus used both examples when he taught believers that a command in his name would force even fruit trees and mountains to take flying leaps.
Was Jesus teaching a lesson about physical displacement? Was he assuring his listeners that hard-core mountains are conquerable? Did their stubborn toehold in the earth have a correlation to his lesson? In this teaching-moment, Jesus emphasizes always turning to God.
Jesus inspired his followers to expect results from bringing flecks of faith to God's creative palm. When confronted with this teaching, I wonder when I last boldly requested something, totally believing God would answer. When have I asked for something earthshaking, beyond my imagination?
Hindrances to my prayers happen daily, and I am the biggest obstacle. One downfall to my prayer life is focusing only on what my physical eyes see. I see my pinochle bank account. I see the effects of cancer in Lizzie. I see Jerry held captive in a debilitating sin. Physical sight blocks my Son-sight.
Another way I hinder prayer is by presenting God with solutions from my imagination. I dream up ways for him to "work" things out. That's when a leafy tree reminds me of Jesus' "mountain and mulberry" words.
A mulberry tree stands guard outside my breakfast-room window. In the spring, the tree is a flurry of leaves and feathers. As the berries ripen, I watch crows forage and blue jays dart in for fast food. On the windowsill, I prop up an index card that reminds me of Jesus' challenge-words, "You can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted.'"
I love that in his teaching, Jesus drew graphic word-pictures for us, and when he gave imperative commands waters and winds obeyed. There's never been a reason for me to say to my fruit tree, "Get out of my yard! Go! Plant yourself in the Gulf of Mexico." However, because of Jesus—full of grace and truth—I trust that my faith-seeds are mega-sized in the hand of God.
The next time I see a clump of hills, I will remember they could hike up their grassy skirts, yank up roots, and walk off. I will remember my mulberry tree could wiggle out of the soil and settle into salt water.
I will remember.
Father, I still struggle with feeble faith, but I thank you for hearing my timid voice and working wonders to your glory. I lift my eyes to the hills and thank you for the visual aid Son of Man. In his name. Amen.
Excerpt from The Stained Glass Pickup: Glimpses of God's Uncommon Wisdom. Used by permission of Leafwood Publishers. www.LeafwoodPublishers.com
