This month many folks must endure workplace propaganda that contradicts their personal beliefs. Friends have told me how tiring and oppressive the continuous onslaught can be. I am no longer employed but similar promotions appear in businesses and media I come across. ‘Pride’ ideology is massively divisive. For this reason, my post features words directly from the Author of Life, letting Scripture speak for itself to the issues at hand. My compilation spans the Old and New Testaments and various Biblical genres of history, poetry, the Gospels (of Jesus) and the Epistles (letters). The prudent practice of comparing multiple passages is referred to as “the whole counsel of Scripture.”
Genesis 1 v 26-27 NIV
26 Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” 27 So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
Genesis 9 v16-17 NIV
16 Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.” 17 So God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant I have established between me and all life on the earth.”
Psalm 139 v 13 – 16a NLT
13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. 15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. 16 You saw me before I was born.
Proverbs 8 v 13 ESV
13 The fear of the Lord is hatred of evil.
Pride and arrogance and the way of evil
and perverted speech I hate.
Matthew 19 v 4 – 6 ESV
4 He [Jesus] answered, “Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, 5 and said, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? 6 So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.”
Romans 1 v 21, 24 – 27 ESV
21 For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. 24 Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, 25 because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.
26 For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; 27 and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error.
Galatians 6 v 14 CSB
14 But as for me [Paul], I will never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. The world has been crucified to me through the cross, and I to the world.
2 Timothy 3 v 1 – 5a CSB
But know this: Hard times will come in the last days. 2 For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, proud, demeaning, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3 unloving, irreconcilable, slanderers, without self-control, brutal, without love for what is good, 4 traitors, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, 5 holding to the form of godliness but denying its power.
To briefly summarize, some of you may think these are intolerant words. I believe them to be God’s perfect plan for what He created. God’s way is worth celebrating! As the Apostle Paul put it, we take pride only in God’s work on the cross for us. With humility, Brenda.
*Note – the abbreviations following the references indicate the Bible translation used: Christian Standard Bible, English Standard Version, New International Version, New Living Translation.
For those of you who receive my blog via email subscription, thank you. The posts are better viewed by going to my blog website http://brendaproulx.com
Our family celebrated a long-awaited June reunion.
Traveling home on the last leg of a recent, long road trip, we stopped to eat at an Arby’s in Ruther Glen, Virginia, off I-95. I placed my meal order with a very upbeat cashier. Repeatedly she interjected “m’ dear,” an endearment quite typical in Southern speech, as she confirmed my selections. The sweet expression felt good as my husband and I were in need of rest and refreshment at this point in our many miled journey. Next to me, a handsome young Black man also placed his order and a few minutes later a woman in a cute yellow dress joined him.
Ruther Glen is big enough to have an Arby’s but too small to be named on the exit sign. Photo by Doug Kerr, from the site Mapcarta.
Our meal came and we sat in a booth, the fast food satisfying our hunger. Being the people watcher that I am, I saw that the African American couple sat in the booth next to us. As they too ate their meal, I overheard playful banter in their conversation that spoke of love and a healthy relationship, nothing course or lewd about it. At some point, her man and mine left our tables and she spoke to me. She commented that she noticed us and thought we showed a mature and seasoned relationship. I told her that indeed we had recently celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary. She congratulated me with seemingly genuine happiness for us. I asked about their life together and she answered that they were at the twenty-year mark. “Wow,” I responded. “You look too young for that!” Our little chat ended with wishing each other many more years of loving commitment in marriage.
About this time, the cashier from up front began circulating the dining area with a broom. She too engaged in conversation with me. It was almost Mother’s Day weekend and I think that’s where she started. She shared about all the gifts she got for her mother and couldn’t wait to give her on her day off. I think one of the gifts was a plaque or decorative family tree because she began telling me the names of her kids and siblings and step-siblings. It was clear that she adored her mother and planned to generously express her love through gifts.
It struck me that both women initiated conversations with me. Did I look lonely or lost? I doubt that was the reason: the Southern way is just warm, friendly, and casual. The Southern way has also been associated with prejudice, yet both Black women felt comfortable and interested in talking to me, a white stranger passing through town. Life’s commonalities drew us together. I was a wife sharing fast food with my husband, and I was a daughter, possibly also a mother, to the talkative cashier. We found a connection by sharing those life roles. The connection provided a measure of kindness.
God felt the same about connecting with us. He sent His Son Jesus to experience our humanity. Jesus willingly gave up the glories of being God, to share life’s human realities on earth, including the eventual agony of death. At this point, some of you will recognize these as truths from Philippians 2. I was part of a discussion on that passage on Sunday. I love how one person said it: God who is eternal and omnipresent (is everywhere at once) subjected Himself through Jesus His Son to our limitations of time and place.
Three years ago, at this time, our country experienced a terrible fissure. What appeared to be an unnecessarily harsh police arrest incited an uproar of protests. Thousands rioted in city streets to voice their indignation, even as churches and schools were shut down, parks and beaches were closed, and many jobs were suspended. Fear of a virus and social isolation fueled the reaction and rage.
As grievous as the Minneapolis incident was, my encounters at the Ruther Glen Arby’s happen more often. I believe when kindness or empathy occur, it is a small reflection of the great image of God’s kindness, as explained in Philippians 2; how Jesus demonstrated the ultimate emptying of His divine rights and privileges. We can receive His saving grace (which Scripture defines below as bending the knee and verbal consent), and common grace can be imparted to those with whom we walk this earth.
~from Philippians 2 5 In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: 6 Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; 7 rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness. 8 And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
9 Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
For those of you who receive my blog via email subscription, thank you. The posts are better viewed by going to my blog website http://www.brendaproulx.com
The Christian community lost a giant yesterday. Tim Keller, preacher and author, died of pancreatic cancer at the age of 72 – we would have wished for another decade or two of his unparalleled contributions to The Church. He pastored a church in New York City for 28 years and wrote over thirty books.
Dr. Keller significantly impacted me and three generations of my family. My parents, who lived in the suburbs of NYC, began attending evening church services to hear Keller preach in the 90’s. As different family members visited my parents, they joined in the late afternoon trip to the city and to Keller’s church. Once, while with my parents on that very outing, my husband and I ran into Dr. Keller, who was leaving the coffee shop we were entering, catching a meal between church services. The five of us had a brief chat and he was gracious in speaking to us though he had to continue on to preach again. We expressed our appreciation for his ministry. Dr. Keller’s intellectual giftedness and logic, his unbelievably wide scope of reading, and his keen understanding of culture and thought, brought an unmatched depth and applicability to his Biblical teaching. My father, an intelligent and widely read man who was selective with words and not prone to exaggeration, described Keller’s influence on his own life-long faith as profound.
Tim Keller’s congregation consisted of young NYC professionals, and he was able to connect with that age group. His preaching and writing resonated deeply with the third generation of my family. Our family rarely took a road trip that Tim Keller didn’t join us on, as we listened to his sermons either on CD or online while we drove. My kids have read more Keller books than I have! So yesterday was a day of shared sorrow in our family at the news of his death.
We grieve because we feel a loss and an end, but we also know well that this is a beginning and a victory for Tim Keller. Followers of Christ look forward to seeing and spending eternity with Jesus, the Savior they served. Dr. Keller said recently of his expected death, “There is no downside for me leaving, not in the slightest.” We shed tears but all is not lost. Thankfully, he left a legacy of sermons and writings that will continue to challenge and inform us. I trust that God will raise up others who will rightly continue to inspire His kingdom on earth … bearing the torch until Jesus returns! AMEN
Here is a link to one of Tim Keller’s sermons “Christ the Final Word.” It is classic Keller: his depth of Biblical insight, his humor, his connection to culture and the modern mindset, and landing on the Gospel! I hope you will listen to it through to the end (and it begins with a Scripture reading by someone else). If you get lost a little, hang on. You’ll catch up; he goes deep, but it is real! His website is http://gospelinlife.com
The iconic image of a southern estate property often includes a sprawling live oak laden with cascading moss. If you are not familiar with southern flora, you may not realize that ‘live’ does not describe the tree as not dead, but it is the name of the predominant oak variety in the south, particularly the coastal south. A live oak inhabits our front yard, not a spectacular specimen, but other larger beauties grow on nearby properties.
The name ‘live’ refers to the presence of leaves on the tree all year long. Live oaks shed and regrow leaves throughout the year. But there are other good reasons for calling it live. Live oaks are known for their longevity, easily living hundreds of years. They also spare life and prevent destruction. Due to their low, spreading nature and deep, strong roots, they survive coastal storms. Early peoples knew to cling to live oaks for safety during hurricanes. Their broad shape buffers wind and protects surrounding structures. I find compelling beauty in the live oak’s gangly, low-spreading branches, especially when adorned with natural mossy tinsel.
The first song in the book of Psalms compares living a godly life to a prospering tree. Psalm 1 states that a godly man flourishes like a tree planted near a good water source. The well-watered tree produces fruit and lush foliage. The Psalm contrasts the godly life to the “wicked,” whose life and successes are short-lived. Psalm 1 describes right living or the righteous as separated from sinful ways and focused instead on God’s law (the Scriptures). Whether the psalmist had in mind the elegant symmetry of a maple, or the majestic reaches of a redwood, or the unique form of a live oak, a thriving life flows out of wise spiritual habits. Here is the first Psalm:
Blessed is the man
who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers; 2 but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
3 He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers. 4 The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; 6 for the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.
This live oak is at Airlie Gardens in Wilmington, NC. The photo is from Wilmingtonandbeaches.com
This week, Christians continue joyously celebrating the risen Jesus, following Easter Sunday. As we ride the wave of resurrection victory, a detail from the four Gospel accounts caught my attention: fear. I had entertained the idea of writing about fear as part 3 of my living in North Carolina blog series. When fear showed up in the Biblical Easter story, I took the divine hint!
Why would I write about fear in a new-to-North Carolina piece? We do live in an area commonly referred to as the Cape Fear region, named so for the Cape Fear River. But I was not thinking about the river. I had in mind how old fears from Virginia transferred to new fears in North Carolina. In Virginia, I feared bats and ticks. Bats often darted over our heads as my husband and I took evening walks on our street. Bats are scary creatures, but what I was really afraid of was rabies: bats are the main carrier of rabies, when humans are infected. Human infection is rare, and usually people know when they get an animal bite … except when it comes to bat bites. I did not like that! Ticks? Yes, the prevalent deer tick. They carry Lyme disease, which can be a long-term, debilitating condition, difficult to diagnose and treat. I knew folks in Virginia who had it.
Of course, here in North Carolina we have bats and ticks (and deer), but I do not see bats on our walks, and I have not heard of any Lyme disease cases here. So, I’m fine now? No, I have found new things to be afraid of: alligators and Brown Recluse spiders! Hurricanes are worth being fearful of too, but there is a fair amount of warning time to make plans. Alligators and Brown Recluse spiders are hard to spot; victims are caught by surprise. And yes, I am aware of an alligator incident and a serious spider bite. Though my worries are relatively silly, they linger, along with other deeper trepidations. If I moved somewhere else, I am fairly sure my mind would find other things to fear. But let’s look at authentic fear.
In the resurrection narrative, folks faced real fear. The tomb guards were ‘scared stiff’ (Matthew 28 v 4). The women at the tomb “trembled” in bewilderment and fled in fear (Mark 16 v 8). Luke describes the women as having “fright” (Luke 24 v 3) and the disciples were also described as “startled and frightened” (Luke 24 v 37). John says the disciples hid in fear (John 20 v 19). What scared them? The scene of the empty tomb certainly shocked them. Just two days earlier they had witnessed the gruesome crucifixion of Christ and knew He was dead. After waiting out the Saturday Sabbath, they arrived at His burial site Sunday morning hoping to perform ministrations. The missing body stumped them in a terrifying way and they feared for their own lives too, as close followers of Jesus.
But the message on Easter morning was Good News! The angel at the empty tomb proclaimed, “Do not be afraid” (Matthew 28 v 5). Jesus appeared shortly after repeating, “Do not be afraid” (Matthew 28 v 10). Put similarly in other appearances to the disciples, Jesus greeted with the words, “Peace be with you” (Luke 24 v 36 and John 20 v 26). Jesus’ return to life, His triumph over death, which was His triumph over sin on our behalf, is spectacular and terrifying. It was unfathomable, to the point of pure fright, for those who first discovered it. For us today, a holy awe of fear for His selfless sacrifice and for the amazing spectacle of His Resurrection is our right response too.
“… we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” Hebrews 10 v 10
After living my entire adult life in the DC area, I knew learning the layout of a new town would be a challenge. From the outset, I prepared myself for needing maps, GPS, and Google to find my way around. I purposed to be patient and willing to stop and restart as I drove to many new destinations. Even now, more than two years in, I often rely on navigation to get where I’m going. God has specifically protected me in a couple of dangerous mistakes, but most of the time I have navigated safe U-turns, arriving at the right place, my car and I intact.
U-turns are actually required driving in North Carolina. The road system blocks certain turns, instead redirecting drivers to designated intersections, widened for official U-turns. Sometimes there’s a stoplight for the U-turn, but sometimes it’s only a yield, which doesn’t seem any safer to me than a yielded left turn. Official or unscheduled, U-turns feature regularly in my driving experience here in North Carolina.
My long-time pastor liked to say, “God allows U-turns.” He was not preaching about driving; he meant choices on the road of life. Sometimes with intention, but often unknowingly, people find themselves going in the wrong direction. One can look up and realize the road ahead leads to a dead-end or to destruction. As long as one lives, no matter where one is or what’s going on, there is the opportunity to choose God and follow His direction. He charts a just-right course for everyone turning to faith in Jesus.
One of the most profound U-turn stories, literally of Biblical proportions, is the life of the apostle Paul. On a road trip to round up followers of Jesus for imprisonment or worse, he was struck by a blinding light and heard the audible voice of Jesus. That call redirected Paul’s future. For the rest of his life, Paul traveled the known world, missionary-style, preaching the gospel and writing much of the New Testament as prompted by the Spirit. The account of Paul’s U-turn is found in Acts 9 v 1-19 and is repeated in Acts 22 and Acts 26. And how did Paul summarize his conversion? “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3 v 8) A priceless route correction!
This is Topsail Island, NC. The photo is from the America’s Transportation Awards website. The bridge project was commended for Operations Excellence.
Part 1 North Carolina Now
Two years ago this week, we moved into our new home near Wilmington, North Carolina. We left the DC area in the fall of 2020, but lived in temporary housing for several months, while we oversaw the building of our house. It was the height of the pandemic and we also lost my mother-in-law during this time. So I like to think of March as our real move anniversary.
Wilmington is a small, port city located on the Cape Fear River. UNC Wilmington is a major university, and the film industry is a presence in the area. Our town is on the outskirts of Wilmington. It has less city influence and a more rural southern personality. Farming and fishing were once the main businesses. While things are quickly changing here, the homey ways intrigue me.
Just down the street from us on the main highway of our town is a pawn shop. I see bikes, lawn equipment and surf boards propped up for sale in front of the store. I ventured into the store because I noticed a sign for jewelry repair. Sure enough, past the case of pawned jewelry and watches, and the inventory of sports equipment and power tools, I turned the corner through the guns and ammunition section, to find the small work space of a jeweler.
The jeweler wears a large leather cowboy hat and decorates his niche with neon-lit western motifs. His space is neat, and he is soft spoken, especially when you consider he’s from Long Island. He assessed my broken chain and gave me an estimate. I left it for repair and in a few hours got a text from him with a photo of my necklace draped on a lovely velvet model, saying, “Here she is!” The idea that my necklace was repaired by a New Yorker in a cowboy hat who works in a pawn shop where they sell guns and ammo amuses me.
Just a few buildings down the highway from the pawn shop is a paint store. We were sent there by our builder to select the interior colors for our house. “Go talk to Jimmy, ” we were told. Jimmy and his business partner, who both sport gray ponytails, run a no-fuss paint supply store. Without fanfare, they carry all the paint brands in all the colors. A gentle cat keeps them company and one of them drives a vintage truck always parked out in front. Neither of the guys ever wore a mask during the mandate period.
There’s also a warehouse fish market off the highway strip where I occasionally shop. The place is wet and stinky but I think I get fairly fresh catches there, though I’ve never tried the alligator. They fly the American flag on the porch, carry homemade birdhouses and advertise bushels of crabs for Mother’s Day. Young kids, probably relatives of the owner, run the counter. In deep southern twangs they can advise you on flavor and cooking methods.
This culture is new for me; so different from the cosmopolitan suburban area we left. I enjoy the downhome feel of the unincorporated town where we now live. It is appealingly unpretentious. That’s how I find the true local people too: down-to-earth, authentic, likeable. Don’t get me wrong, there are also many conveniences and amenities that I miss greatly now! But as I said, the area is changing quickly due to rapid growth and many outsiders who, like us, are moving in. I hope in our time here, it doesn’t completely lose its southern, country soul.
At the two year mark, my husband and I marvel that we are here, that we transitioned away from DC during such a crazy time. We are confident this is the new place for us now and thank God for His good provision. Like the Psalmist David wrote, “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.” (Psalm 16 v 6). Read all of Psalm 16 for insights into God’s goodness in this life and in eternity.
After living my entire adult life in the DC area, I knew learning the layout of a new town would be a challenge. From the outset, I prepared myself for needing maps, GPS, and Google to find my way around. I purposed to be patient and willing to stop and restart as I drove to many new destinations. Even now, more than two years in, I often rely on navigation to get where I’m going. God has specifically protected me in a couple of dangerous mistakes, but most of the time I have navigated safe U-turns, arriving at the right place, my car and I intact.
U-turns are actually required driving in North Carolina. The road system blocks certain turns, instead redirecting drivers to designated intersections, widened for official U-turns. Sometimes there’s a stoplight for the U-turn, but sometimes it’s only a yield, which doesn’t seem any safer to me than a yielded left turn. Official or unscheduled, U-turns feature regularly in my driving experience here in North Carolina.
My long-time pastor liked to say, “God allows U-turns.” He was not preaching about driving; he meant choices on the road of life. Sometimes with intention, but often unknowingly, people find themselves going in the wrong direction. One can look up and realize the road ahead leads to a dead-end or to destruction. As long as one lives, no matter where one is or what’s going on, there is the opportunity to choose God and follow His direction. He charts a just-right course for everyone turning to faith in Jesus.
One of the most profound U-turn stories, literally of Biblical proportions, is the life of the apostle Paul. On a road trip to round up followers of Jesus for imprisonment or worse, he was struck by a blinding light and heard the audible voice of Jesus. That call redirected Paul’s future. For the rest of his life, Paul traveled the known world, missionary-style, preaching the gospel and writing much of the New Testament as prompted by the Spirit. The account of Paul’s U-turn is found in Acts 9 v 1-19 and is repeated in Acts 22 and Acts 26. And how did Paul summarize his conversion? “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3 v 8) A priceless route correction!
This is Topsail Island, NC. The photo is from the America’s Transportation Awards website. The bridge project was commended for Operations Excellence.
Two years ago this week, we moved into our new home near Wilmington, North Carolina. We left the DC area in the fall of 2020, but lived in temporary housing for several months, while we oversaw the building of our house. It was the height of the pandemic and we also lost my mother-in-law during this time. So I like to think of March as our real move anniversary.
Wilmington is a small, port city located on the Cape Fear River. UNC Wilmington is a major university, and the film industry is a presence in the area. Our town is on the outskirts of Wilmington. It has less city influence and a more rural southern personality. Farming and fishing were once the main businesses. While things are quickly changing here, the homey ways intrigue me.
Just down the street from us on the main highway of our town is a pawn shop. I see bikes, lawn equipment and surf boards propped up for sale in front of the store. I ventured into the store because I noticed a sign for jewelry repair. Sure enough, past the case of pawned jewelry and watches, and the inventory of sports equipment and power tools, I turned the corner through the guns and ammunition section, to find the small work space of a jeweler.
The jeweler wears a large leather cowboy hat and decorates his niche with neon-lit western motifs. His space is neat, and he is soft spoken, especially when you consider he’s from Long Island. He assessed my broken chain and gave me an estimate. I left it for repair and in a few hours got a text from him with a photo of my necklace draped on a lovely velvet model, saying, “Here she is!” The idea that my necklace was repaired by a New Yorker in a cowboy hat who works in a pawn shop where they sell guns and ammo amuses me.
Just a few buildings down the highway from the pawn shop is a paint store. We were sent there by our builder to select the interior colors for our house. “Go talk to Jimmy, ” we were told. Jimmy and his business partner, who both sport gray ponytails, run a no-fuss paint supply store. Without fanfare, they carry all the paint brands in all the colors. A gentle cat keeps them company and one of them drives a vintage truck always parked out in front. Neither of the guys ever wore a mask during the mandate period.
There’s also a warehouse fish market off the highway strip where I occasionally shop. The place is wet and stinky but I think I get fairly fresh catches there, though I’ve never tried the alligator. They fly the American flag on the porch, carry homemade birdhouses and advertise bushels of crabs for Mother’s Day. Young kids, probably relatives of the owner, run the counter. In deep southern twangs they can advise you on flavor and cooking methods.
This culture is new for me; so different from the cosmopolitan suburban area we left. I enjoy the downhome feel of the unincorporated town where we now live. It is appealingly unpretentious. That’s how I find the true local people too: down-to-earth, authentic, likeable. Don’t get me wrong, there are also many conveniences and amenities that I miss greatly now! But as I said, the area is changing quickly due to
rapid growth and many outsiders who, like us, are moving in. I hope in our time here, it doesn’t completely lose its southern, country soul.
At the two year mark, my husband and I marvel that we are here, that we transitioned away from DC during such a crazy time. We are confident this is the new place for us now and thank God for His good provision. Like the Psalmist David wrote, “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.” (Psalm 16 v 6). Read all of Psalm 16 for insights into God’s goodness in this life and in eternity.
As we step across the threshold of 2023, I also throw out the welcome mat to my blog, again. I last wrote a post on this blog in November 2022 and shortly after that I discovered my blog was no longer functional. My administrator privileges were not available to me and eventually I could not even pull up the URL address and my six years of content were gone!
I began attempting restoration; I reached out to the hosting site and the blog software. They were not coming through with support. Friends and family offered to help but we kept hitting the same dead ends. I don’t have an affinity nor an aptitude for technology, so I was lost!
About two weeks ago, I found an IT specialist who works on these issues. He quickly got absorbed in my case and spent hours to determine the problem and fix it. I am not fully clear on what happened and how, but my blog was hacked into, my credentials were changed, and content was hidden. With the expertise of the IT specialist, the hosting and blog software sites put my blog back together. The IT guy charged me for only one hour of his many – but he got a 100% tip from me!
I have written a few posts during the time my blog was down. Some of you may have seen them on social media. Soon I will re-post them on “A Writer’s Daughter,” but I am not sure that I can back date them; they may show up all at once with a real-time date.
As always, I thank you for reading my blog. I enjoy your comments. I pray that the site will stay secure. Its restoration is a gift from God and an answer to prayer. For the time being, I will be able to keep that proverbial pen in my hand, along with my coffee cup. Here is a prayer for the New Year and for this blog: “Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands.”
The Canadian Shield, a massive expanse of central and eastern Canada from the Great Lakes to the Artic and Greenland, “constitutes the largest mass of exposed Precambrian rock on the face of the Earth,” according to the Britannica Online Encyclopedia. I became familiar with the term “Canadian Shield” as a sixth grade Social Studies teacher. The first unit of study in sixth grade Social Studies is the regions of North America. But in reality, I had learned about the Canadian Shield as a child, though not through school. My family vacationed in Ontario each summer and I experienced the beauty of the many lakes and deep forests that intersperse the endless rock ledges and boulder shorelines of the region. Rock outcroppings fill the gorgeous landscape of the Canadian Shield!
Lakes, forest, rocks and … boathouses abound in beautiful Muskoka, Ontario.
In the last decade or more, I have revisited this area of Ontario several times. I began to notice peculiar piles of rocks stacked on the exposed ridges edging the highway. Mile after mile sat columns of fist-sized stones, stacked usually less than a foot tall, in a graduated pile with no other ornamentation. A bit of quick internet searching informed me that these stacks are called cairns. Cairns are an ancient construct for the purpose of marking a place, possibly a trail, border or as a memorium. Today, however, the stone-stacking trend represents mindfulness, or oneness with nature. Cairn building is popular in America and Europe as a form of New Age graffiti.
Stones and rocks are mentioned aplenty throughout the pages of Scripture, which is not surprising due to the prevalence of rock in the Middle East region! Having toured Israel and bordering areas, sometimes that’s all you see: rocks and desert! In Scripture, rocks play all kinds of roles.
There are warnings about rocks in the Bible. The second of the Ten Commandments forbids making an image, an idol, to worship as a god. Idols were carved from wood or stone, often overlaid with gold. Pillars, some likely constructed with stones, are often condemned for spiritual misuse. Rocks served as boundary markers and moving them was against the law.
But stones also serve purposes of importance and good in the Scriptures. More than forty times God is called the Rock or our Rock. Christ is called the Chief Cornerstone in the New Testament. God also instructed His people to use stones or pillars to mark a spot of significance. When God held back the flood-stage waters of the Jordan River for the Israelites to cross into the land God promised, he ordered the leaders to collect twelve shoulder-sized boulders from the dry riverbed. When the river began flowing again, they piled the stones at the exit point to commemorate the place where God had miraculously given them a dry path, recalling how He had also parted the Red Sea as the Israelites fled the Egyptian army. God wanted that rock monument to remind the people that God had saved and provided for them. See Joshua 4
This tells me that we are apt to forget. If a miraculous dry path through a raging river doesn’t stick in your mind, memory loss is a significant problem! We do suffer from spiritual amnesia. We forget what God has given us and more importantly, what God has done for us. We need mental, and maybe even actual rock piles, to trigger our recollection of God’s blessing and goodness. Not just at this season of thanksgiving, but every day, in our attitude and prayers, may we express rock solid gratitude.
They remembered God Most High, the mighty rock that kept them safe. Psalm 78 v 35 (Contemporary English Version)
I’m stuck at a hurdle here. This is the 100th post on my “A Writer’s Daughter” blog site. One hundred is a milestone and suggests something significant. One hundred is a century and a dollar. The 100th day of the school year is a big deal at the primary grades; teachers always look for creative things to celebrate, and the number 100 is important in our numbering system so it’s a math lesson too! But this time, my mind isn’t formulating a significant contribution to honor one hundred.
On the five-year anniversary of my blog, I wrote a recap of my venture into blog writing. I reviewed my highs and lows, topics of my posts and my continued goal in writing. Those reflections remain the same just 15 months later so I will let them stand. You can reread them at https://www.brendaproulx.com/2021/08/
I will move forward past the hundred marker now and pursue the next blog topic, as God allows me ideas and time. Mostly, thank you for reading my posts, encouraging me, and sharing your comments. I pray my writing ministers to you, as it does to me and that I might “abound … in this labor, knowing that it is not in vain.” 1 Corinthians 15:58
