“I’m tired, boss. Mostly, I’m tired of people being ugly to each other.” These words came from the mouth of death row inmate, John Coffey, in the movie The Green Mile as the prison guard struggles with the possibility of Coffey’s innocence. I can echo those words; maybe you can too. I’m tired; tired of the ugly. Tired of ugly actions, ugly attitudes, and ugly words. Tired of ugliness in families, between friends, at retail stores and schools and meetings, on the news, on social media, in the church, and in the mirror.

Backstabbing, shaming, name calling, pot-stirring, belittling, aggression, passivity, apathy, defensiveness, self-righteousness… it’s all ugly. Ugliness seems to be running rampant while beauty seems to be in short supply. Or is that just what the enemy wants me to believe? Is my mind being trained to see the ugly rather than the beautiful?

A question was posed to me during a recent conversation that has been stirring in my thinker. “What is beautiful in your life?” I didn’t have an immediate answer. Maybe I’ve become too accustomed to looking at the ugly. Perhaps my rose colored glasses have been stained.

Beautiful, according to Google, means “pleasing to the senses or mind.” Sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, thoughts… What is beautiful in my life? I started a list:

• A cool evening breeze
• Open windows
• Marigolds full of blooms
• Aroma of fresh cut grass
• Baby birds chirping in their nest
• The ‘pop’ of canning jars sealing
• Buttered sweet corn
• Rodent traps that did their job
• Mask-free conversations
• Friendly phone call dialed on accident
• 60 years married for Mom & Dad
• Forbidden hugs
• Helping hands
• Fresh Starts

The beautiful is there in the midst of the ugly. I just need to look for it. I think this is what Peter is talking about when he says “Be of sober spirit, be on the alert. Your adversary, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). Wouldn’t that be just like the devil to distract us with our own thoughts and senses, focusing our attention on the ugly rather than the beautiful.

It’s like weeds and flowers. A friend has been volunteering many hours pulling weeds around the church property, especially in the rain gardens by the highway. From the roadway it appears like everything is healthy and green. But take a closer look and the actual shrubs and flowers were overgrown with thistles and vines and weeds of all kinds. Some weeds were so big we had to confer with Gardener George that they were indeed weeds and not plants to be saved. As happens in most gardens, the ugly weeds and the beautiful flowers grow up side by side, and if nothing is done to control the weeds, they will soon take over. As sinful, selfish people, our default is weed watering instead of weed pulling. But we need to nourish the flowers (the beautiful) and pull the weeds (the ugly).

Paul reminds us in Romans 12:2, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” Our mind is a powerful tool. May it be said of us that we trained and renewed our mind to see the beautiful.

Erin Jacobsma

God Is Good.

Are these three words foundational truth, or just a good catch phrase? Is this declaration dependent on circumstances, or unconditional? Is God good even when conditions are not?

Last week our family was thrown into the midst of a challenging situation. My daughter, Gretchen, and her boyfriend were traveling down a South Dakota highway when another car came into their lane, resulting in a head-on collision at 65 mph. Plans for fun and relaxation, quickly melted into seven hours of fear, panic, pain, sirens, needles, x-rays, scans, tests, prayers, phone calls, and tears. In the end, it was truly a miracle that the two of them walked out of the emergency department with many bruises and scrapes, but not one broken bone or life-threatening injury. I was able to take my baby girl home, tuck her in bed, kiss her goodnight, and tell Jesus ‘thank you’ a thousand times before I drifted off to sleep. God is good.

The following morning on my way to work, as I drove past the funeral home, my throat became tight, my stomach turned, and my eyes filled with tears, at the thought of what could have been. Rather than going about my regular Thursday activities, I could be pacing the floor in the ICU waiting room, watching my child cling to life with the aid of machines, or planning a funeral. By the grace of God, that was not to be. And again my heart was overwhelmed with gratitude. God is good.

Last week my family also enjoyed a productive day of outside projects in the hot summer sun. We were pleased with our accomplishments only to come inside to discover our thermostat hovering at 80 degrees. Further investigation revealed that the comfort of a cool home would not be a cheap fix. The compressor on the air conditioner was caput and repair was not an option. God is good.

This week, the multiple rains that poured down heavy in our area created a river through our ditch and also through our basement. Three sump pumps are laboring to keep up and the dehumidifier is running non-stop. The new dehumidifier… the old one died last week. God is good.

Now why in the world would I say that God is good even in the midst of pain and suffering, trauma and tears, struggle and brokenness? Because He is! I resolved a long time ago that God is inherently good and nothing in this world can add or subtract from that. In life, God is good. In death, God is good. In prosperity, God is good. In poverty, God is good. In wholeness, brokenness, ease, struggle, peace, pain, joy, sorrow… God is good.

Yes, at times life is hard, the struggle is real, and some days just plain suck. But God is good, all the time. Favorable life experiences don’t add to God’s goodness, neither do traumatic events negate His goodness. Goodness is a part of who He is, in addition to being omnipotent, faithful, loving, merciful, holy, omniscient, eternal, and perfect. He can’t not be good.

Psalm 100:5 states, “For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.” For me, that is a foundational truth. It’s not conditional or questionable.

“O, taste and see that the Lord is good!” (Psalm 34:8)

Erin Jacobsma

Scars. We all have them. If you disagree with that statement, tip your head and take a look at your navel. Regardless if it is an innie or an outie, your belly button is a scar resulting from a wound on the day of your birth. According to Wikipedia, “A scar is an area of fibrous tissue that replaces normal skin after an injury. It is the result of the biological process of wound repair. With the exception of very minor lesions, every wound results in some degree of scarring.”

Besides my belly button, I have other scars… two distinct marks run parallel to my spine carved by a surgeon’s scalpel, remnants of a 3rd degree burn coat the back of my leg, and a relic by my eyebrow occurred from the carelessness of my older brother. (I won’t name names J) Each scar has a story to tell. Some stories we enjoy retelling, while others we’d rather conceal. I know a young lady with scars on her legs and arms. She isn’t proud of them and doesn’t want anyone to know they are there. They are reminders of self-inflicted wounds to her body in an attempt to take away the pain of wounds to her heart.

Yes, some scars form on our skin and are very visible. Other times it’s our mind and heart that are affected. We are wounded within. And just as all people have a scar on their exterior, I think you would  have a difficult time finding someone that hasn’t been wounded on the inside. As is evident in our society, some people’s hurts are still gaping open, gushing, or oozing, while others have allowed wounds to heal and scar over.

Scars seem ugly and we attempt to reduce their appearance, but if you think about it scars are really beautiful. Scars signify healing. While a wound shows evidence of an injury, often bloody and gross, scars only form after a wound is bound up and completely healed. And as a friend reminded me, “Scars only form on the living.” Let that sink in.

Isaiah 53 speaks of a Man, Jesus Christ, who bears the scars of a sacrificial wounding. “He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities, the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Jesus was wounded (flesh ripped open, body nailed to a tree, side pierced through) to bring healing and restoration and to bind up our relationship with God. Without Jesus’ wounds, we would never experience healing and right relationship with the Father.

Psalm 147:3 says, “He (the Lord) heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” I often have a picture in my mind of a doctor suturing a deep cut and wrapping gauze around the injury when I think about binding up wounds, but as I’ve been thinking about scars, these words are a beautiful picture of the healing and restoration that God does in our lives, even if it does leave a scar.

So tell me about your scars. Do you have battle wounds that you are proud of, souvenirs of a victory from the past? Marks that are thick with life lessons and transformation? Maybe your scars are buried deep within your soul and very few people, if anybody, even know about them. Maybe they are your own doing and are bound with shame, or maybe they are twisted with bitterness and unforgiveness. Or perhaps you have wounded another, left a decisive mark on their body… or their heart. Maybe you threw a punch, or shot careless words that pierced deep within. (If that’s you, I encourage you to take action to clean up your mess, and apply the healing balm of a humble apology and reconciliation.)

Whether you have been the wounded or the wound-er, make a choice today to allow Jehovah-Rapha, the God Who Heals, to bind up your wounds and bring complete healing to your body and your soul. Your scars are proof that God heals. So don’t be embarrassed about them, tell their story and tell of the amazing power of God’s healing in your life.

Erin Jacobsma

A wise mother stated, “Once labor begins, it never ends.” Labor for me began 27 years ago, eighteen hours before our firstborn entered this world. She was a beautiful baby, perfectly knit together in my womb, crafted by her Creator. And with her first cry, everything I thought I knew about being a mom unraveled, and I never felt more inadequate for anything in my entire life.

That feeling hasn’t gone away. Maybe there are some moms who feel like they are knocking it out of the park and that their kids are the luckiest offspring on earth, but that’s not the case for me. I have messed up in more ways than I care to mention, and remember many days when I would lay my head on the pillow and ask God to erase my children’s memory of that day. I realize that I’m my biggest critic, but maybe there are other moms that can relate.

There are so many stories about mothers in the Bible, some I can relate to and others I can’t even imagine. A mother who birthed mankind, a mother who hid her baby in a basket by the river, mothers who buried children, played favorites, raised prophets and priests, and a young mother who birthed the Savior of the world. But the story that touches my mothering heart isn’t about a mother at all. It’s found in Mark 9:12-17. The Message Bible tells it like this:

As the day declined, the Twelve said to Jesus, “Dismiss the crowd so they can go to the farms or villages around here and get a room for the night and a bite to eat. We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

“You feed them,” Jesus said.

They said, “We couldn’t scrape up more than five loaves of bread and a couple of fish—unless, of course, you want us to go to town ourselves and buy food for everybody.” (There were more than five thousand people in the crowd.)

But he went ahead and directed his disciples, “Sit them down in groups of about fifty.” They did what he said, and soon had everyone seated. He took the five loaves and two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread and fish to the disciples to hand out to the crowd. After the people had all eaten their fill, twelve baskets of leftovers were gathered up.

As I read these words, I hear Jesus say to me, “You feed them.” I have made thousands of bottles and thousands of meals for my children over the years, but that’s been the easy part. Feeding mouths is one thing, feeding souls is another. Most days I feel like one of the disciples scraping together a few morsels, and offering it to the Messiah saying “This is all I have and I know it’s not enough.” But Jesus takes our insufficient and turns it into abundance with leftovers to boot! Thank you, Jesus!

I don’t know who penned the following words, but they were taped to my refrigerator for many years and I have prayed them often. If you are a mom, I would encourage you to pray them as well.

“Lord, you know my inadequacies. You know my weaknesses, not only in parenting, but in every area of my life. I am doing the best I can to raise my kids properly, but it may not be good enough. As you broke the fish and the loaves to feed 5,000 hungry people, now take my meager effort and use it to bless my family. Multiply it as only you can. Make up for the things I do wrong. Satisfy the needs I have not met. Compensate for my blunders and mistakes. Wrap your great arms around my children and draw them close to you. And be there when they stand at the great crossroads between right and wrong. All I can give them is my best and I will continue to do that. I submit them to you now, and rededicate myself to the task You have placed before me. The outcome rests securely in your hands, Lord.”

Laboring with the Lord, Erin Jacobsma

John 20:1 “Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb.”

This verse was part of my scripture reading for today and I was caught off guard by five little words sandwiched between two commas: while it was still dark. While it was still dark? Why did my mind fixate on that phrase? Maybe it had to do with the early hour at which I was reading, maybe the words dredged up nocturnal fears from my childhood, maybe it’s indicative of the darkness that hangs over our world, or maybe the Holy Spirit just needed me to do some reflecting.

So I have been pondering.

Scripture tells us a few things about this woman. Mary is her name. Not to be mistaken with Mary the mother of Jesus, or Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, or any of the “other” Marys, this Mary is known to those around her as Magdalene. Her identity was tied to the town where she was from—Magdala. We know little of her past, her family, or her age, but we do know that she had a transforming encounter with the Messiah. Luke 8:2 informs us that Magdalene had been delivered from evil spirits, seven to be exact. The details of that event are not revealed to us, but the effects are crystal clear. Jesus had set her free and she committed her life – time, resources, energy – into following Him.

According to other Gospel accounts, we read that Magdalene, along with some other women, accompanied Jesus as he went through the cities and villages, not as a crazy fan club, but they provided for the Rabbi out of their own pockets. They traveled together, ate meals together, listened to Jesus’ teachings, and grew closer every day. And when it came to the unfolding events at the cross, we see Magdalene present from beginning to end. She stood helplessly by, watched as her Savior was nailed to a cross, listened to his anguished cries, observed his final breath, and didn’t leave until she saw where his body was laid.

So when I reflect on “while it was still dark”, I see a woman overcome with grief, tossing and turning through the night, waiting for daybreak so she could go and honor her Savior. But she just couldn’t take it anymore. Her heart yearned for her Lord and not even the darkness could hold her back.

And maybe she was accustomed to the dark. In her days of being held hostage by evil spirits, maybe the dark of night was her safe place that shielded the stares and remarks of others. She had experienced such darkness in her past, and then this strange darkness for three hours in the middle of the day while Jesus hung on the cross, and now the darkness had no hold on her.

And she was confident that daylight was coming.

Magdalene is rewarded for her faithfulness. In the midst of the trauma of seeing the stone rolled away and the body of her Beloved missing, she turns around to see Jesus standing behind her. Her eyes are blurred with tears and she doesn’t even recognize him until he says, “Mary”. Maybe Jesus was one of the few people who called her by her first name while they walked from town to town, or maybe there was such a familiar tenderness in his voice, that even in disbelief, she knew her Savior stood before her. The darkness around her disappeared, her grief was erased, her tears wiped away, and she ran to the disciples with the exclamation, “I have seen the Lord!”

Are you grieving? Are you weeping? Are you experiencing a dark night of the soul? Does there seem to be no light at the end of the tunnel? Turn around. Do you hear Jesus calling out your name? Do you know his voice? I pray that even in the midst of this dark hour we can proclaim, “I have seen the Lord!”

Erin Jacobsma

There was a time in my life when the bathtub was my evening friend. I would turn on the hot water, pour in the liquid bubbles, and fill the tub until it was almost overflowing. Then I would climb in and soak until my fingers resembled white raisins and I was shivering from the decrease in water temperature.

As I got older, the bathtub was replaced with the much-quicker shower, since I had places to go and things to do and no longer had the time to sit and soak. It was possible to get through the shower, washed and dried, in less time than it would take me to run my bath water, and time was of the essence when chores needed to be completed before evening activities began, and a good cleansing was needed in between. Now as an adult, I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I sat in a tub.

My wash habits could be compared to the time I spend in God’s Word. In 2019, I was committed to reading through the Bible in a year and I followed a reading plan that showered me in large chunks of scripture. It was refreshing in many ways, but there was little time to sit and soak in a particular passage.

But this year I’m sitting in the tub, so to speak, with just a few verses each day and soaking it in. During Lent I have been using the book “40 Days of Decrease” by Alicia Britt Cole as my guide. In the first day’s reading she petitions her readers to “consider Lent as less of a project and more of a sojourn. A sojourn is a “temporary place to stay.” And a “stay” is about presence not productivity.” The author also suggests “invest your energy in seeking to remain present to the sacred history of Jesus’ walk to the cross. With each reading [of scripture], dust off your childhood imagination and “stay” in each story. Observe Jesus… Imagine yourself… and fast from Lent as a project and enter Lent as an experience, as a sojourn with your Savior.”

So each day I’ve been doing a little soaking in the book of John. The first day felt awkward, sitting in the home with Martha and Lazarus after he had recently been raised from the dead. It was captivating to visualize the bond of love between them and Jesus. Of course, Martha used her gifts of service and hospitality. And then Mary entered the scene, washing Jesus’ feet with an intoxicating perfume and drying his feet with her hair. I felt like I should avert my eyes, look away, but I couldn’t keep myself from staring at the beauty of it all, until Judas’ cold remarks cut through the aroma in the room like a knife.

Another day I mingled with the disciples while getting ready for the evening meal, when Jesus, our Master, prepared the bath water and began washing OUR feet and becoming as a servant to us. Peter threw a fit, but spoke aloud what all of us were thinking. Jesus continued with the task at hand, washing all of our feet… Peter, James, John, Judas, and the rest. And oh, to imagine Jesus holding the feet of Judas in his hands, knowing what was to come, burdened, sad, but still tenderly and lovingly washing his feet. My mind         jerked ahead to the death of Judas, his betrayer, and I wondered if Jesus mourned the death of Judas as his companion.

It has been good to soak in the stories of Jesus during this first week of Lent. I would encourage you to do the same. As we approach Resurrection Sunday, knowing how the events unfold, try pretending that you don’t. Sit with Jesus for awhile and let him speak to you and experience the events leading up to Easter as if you were there. Be still. (Psalm 46:10)

Erin Jacobsma

Last week Sunday, I was among the 99.9 million people who tuned in to watch Super Bowl LIV (54). To be honest, it was the first NFL football game that I had watched all season. I’m not what you would call a die-hard football fan. Super Bowl Sunday at our house is really just a reason to have some friends over, enjoy a smorgasbord of delicious food, and partake in a tradition of watching the big game. As far as I could tell, with my limited knowledge and feeble opinion, it was a good game. The Kansas City Chiefs pulled off a 31-20 win over the San Francisco 49ers and I enjoyed our evening of festivities. We had lots of laughs, some lively discussions, and full bellies. But as our guests headed for home and I cleaned up around the house, I had one regret. (Well, two, if you count the number of cheeseballs I ate!) In years past, we have enjoyed watching the eccentrics of the halftime shows; the smoke, the lights, the glitz and glamour, and marveled at the time and energy it takes to produce such a display. But this year, I wished we had changed the channel.

Change the channel. This is a phrase that has been looping through my mind like an instant replay. When I was a youngster, we had the pleasure of watching television on a large wooden console with alien-like antenna poking out the top, and a variety of channels to choose from; two, to be exact. Our family would gather around the television to watch shows like the Dukes of Hazard or Full House or Lawrence Welk, and we actually watched the advertisements during the commercial breaks or used that time to run to the bathroom or get a snack. But at the conclusion of a show, if Mom or Dad didn’t care for the program that was airing next, they would say, “Change the channel.” We didn’t have a remote control that could change the broadcast at the push of a button, it took effort to get up off the couch, walk across the room, and turn the knob. We often joked that the only reason parents had children was so they would have someone to change the channel on the TV.

In the world we live in, we are flooded with channel choices. Currently, my cable tv package includes over 95 channels and more than a dozen stations are programmed on my car radio. Choosing what channel we play on the radio or watch on television is an important decision. But choosing what channel we play in our mind is of even greater importance.

Like the two-option television of my childhood, there are two basic channels that broadcast in our minds. Not Channel “11” or “13”, but the channels known as “Positive” and “Negative”. Moses presented the channel choice to the Israelites this way: “This day I call the heavens and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him.” (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)  Paul presents a different view of the same choice: “Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things.” (Colossians 3:2)  And Jesus’ entire ministry was about changing the channel: love your enemies, instead of hating them; don’t count offenses, but forgive those who hurt you; serve other people instead of worrying about who is serving you; don’t get revenge, turn the other cheek; consider yourself blessed when people insult you… All of these and more, require a change in our thinking and changing our thinking requires effort.

So what channel is your mind playing? Is it a channel of negativity, self-hatred, destruction, and death? Or is it a channel filled with things that are positive, pure, excellent, and praiseworthy? The choice is yours. Change the channel.

Erin Jacobsma

I have never been much of a fashionista. Rarely will I swap comfort for style. Labels and name brands mean little to me unless my experience has confirmed that a particular brand is superior in fit and quality. I grew up on hand-me-downs, clearance aisles, rummage sales, Goodwill bargains, and made-by-mom originals. I was clothed, but not in designer threads or the latest and greatest.

When I was about 10 years old, my brother and I were invited to a movie on the big screen for the first time. It was a film about Annie, a spirited, ragamuffin orphan from New York City who was invited to live for a week with America’s richest billionaire, Oliver Warbucks. Annie travels to Warbucks mansion and his staff lavishes her with love and adoration and a wardrobe full of new clothes. But while Annie is basking in the delight of a new way of life, the film cuts to a scene of her friends back at the orphanage, dressed in their drab duds, joyfully singing, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

I liked the sounds of that. The perfect accessory to any outfit. No matter what style or brand of clothing I was wearing, whether I was dressed like the rich kid or the pauper, I could always add a smile!

But the Bible tells us about another go-with-everything garment. In Colossians 3, Paul compares our new life in Christ to a new wardrobe. The Message paraphrase reads like this: ^9-11 “Now you’re dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom made by the Creator, with his label on it. All the old fashions are now obsolete. Words like Jewish and non-Jewish, religious and irreligious, insider and outsider, uncivilized and uncouth, slave and free, mean nothing. From now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ. So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it!”

LOVE! It’s your perfect all-purpose garment. It goes with everything! And no person, especially no follower of Christ, is every fully clothed without it.

Paul also tells us about some things that we need to get rid of. We don’t have room for a new wardrobe if the closet and dressers are still filled with the old.  ^1-2 “So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.  ^3-4 Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.  ^5-9 And that means killing off everything connected with that way of death: sexual promiscuity, impurity, lust, doing whatever you feel like whenever you feel like it, and grabbing whatever attracts your fancy. That’s a life shaped by things and feelings instead of by God. It’s because of this kind of thing that God is about to explode in anger. It wasn’t long ago that you were doing all that stuff and not knowing any better. But you know better now, so make sure it’s all gone for good: bad temper, irritability, meanness, profanity, dirty talk. Don’t lie to one another. You’re done with that old life. It’s like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you’ve stripped off and put in the fire.”

Are you ready to make some changes to your wardrobe? Don’t delay. Christ’s designer attire is the perfect fit for you.

Erin Jacobsma

Last week marked the end of an era. What began November 7, 1955 came to a close December 2, 2019. For 64 years, the Esther Circle has been part of the Women’s Ministry at ARC. According to church records, the Esther Circle began with almost 100% participation from the women of the church. That number has dwindled to less than 4% in recent years and now stands at zero. For a variety of reasons, the current members are unable to continue.

I became a part of the Esther Circle 23 years ago. I was not contemplating joining a Circle. I certainly wasn’t looking to connect with a group of ladies who were all old enough to be my mother or grandmother. I definitely didn’t have extra time on my hands. I was a busy young mother with a one year old, a four year old, and a half dozen other children running around my ankles at my in-home daycare. Maybe I was just desperate for adult conversation, but one of the women in the group stopped me on a Sunday morning and extended an invitation. As we talked, it turned out to be a mistaken invitation. She thought I was someone that I was not, but continued her invitation regardless. I accepted.

The following night, I received a warm welcome as I gathered around the table with the Esther Circle. I don’t remember what portion of the Bible we studied that first night. I don’t even remember who was all present. But I remember thinking to myself that these women were survivors. They had made it; made it through mountains of diapers (that weren’t even of the disposable variety), made it through years of cooking in quantities that I can’t even imagine, made it through laundry that was done without modern conveniences, made it through struggles and heartaches and woes that my generation has only read about. They had experienced a multitude of battles and stood firm. And maybe, just maybe, if I stuck close to them and paid attention, I could glean from their wisdom and I might be able to stand firm and survive as well.

The meeting was filled with conversation, reading scripture, discussion questions, sharing of celebrations and concerns, and I could sense a genuine love around the table. At the close of the evening, the ladies bowed their heads in a circle of prayer, calling out to God for the needs of one another and their church family. And I knew that it wasn’t the elderly lady who had invited me, it was my Father in heaven who knew exactly where I needed to be at that time in my life.

During the Esther Circle’s final gathering, we enjoyed a delicious meal at the Bluestem, shared Christmas cards with our prayer partners, reminisced on years gone by, and again closed the evening with a circle of prayer. As each woman took a turn to lift her voice to heaven, I recalled moments from the past when we interceded on her behalf… prayers for surgeries, heart problems, cancer, new babies, broken hearts, grief, divorce, deployments, floods, fires, fractured relationships, illness, and disasters. And through it all, God has been faithful and we survived and learned to enjoy the abundant life in the midst of our struggles.

The apostle Paul must have known something about having godly role models, passing on the faith and helping one another withstand the pressures of this life. He writes to his friend: “Teach the older women to live in a way that honors God. They must not slander others or be heavy drinkers. Instead, they should teach others what is good. These older women must train the younger women to love their husbands and their children, to live wisely and be pure, to work in their homes, to do good, and to be submissive to their husbands. Then they will not bring shame on the word of God.” (Titus 2:3-5)

I have learned much from the older women in my life and I appreciate their friendship greatly. May each of us take seriously what we are passing on to the next generation and do so for the glory of God.

Erin Jacobsma

Repetition. The process of repeating something over and over. There is great value in repetition. Ask any teacher and they will tell you that children learn to master a skill through repetition. It’s why they have homework sheets, quizzes, and practice tests before the real test is given. Repetition increases confidence and strengthens connections in the brain. It helps transition a skill or knowledge from the conscious to the subconscious. This is why we ask the children in Pioneer Club to write down their memory verses five times. This is why school teachers used to implement disciplinary tactics of having students write out 50 times, “I will not talk during class”. I believe this is also the reason behind the writing of Psalm 136. Repetition helps us remember.

We do not know the author of this psalm, but twenty-six times they repeat the words “his steadfast love endures forever.” It seems to me that maybe they needed to give themselves a reminder. Maybe the author was a young mom, bogged down by the continual pile of soiled diapers and dirty laundry. Perhaps these words were penned by a middle aged man, feeling the heaviness of life, tired of the rat race, and questioning the goodness of anything. Or could the psalmist have been a stressed out teenager, a depressed addict, a grieving widow, or a dying saint. I’m guessing whoever they were, they might have been in a bit of a funk, a pit of despair, or just down in the dumps. Yet they recognized their need to remember; to repeat what they already knew.

I need to remember. I grab a notebook and begin writing out the ancient words. Timeless words.

¹ Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.

² Give thanks to the God of gods, for his steadfast love endures forever.

³ Give thanks to the Lord of lords, for his steadfast love endures forever;

⁴ to him who alone does great wonders, for his steadfast love endures forever;

⁵ to him who by understanding made the heavens, for his steadfast love endures forever;

⁶ to him who spread out the earth above the waters, for his steadfast love endures forever;

The psalm moves from declaring God’s love throughout creation, to recounting God’s salvation and preservation of his people. As I duplicate the biblical text in my notebook, I am convicted to remember my own story.

Here are a few of my own stanzas of gratitude: Give thanks…

To him who formed me in my mother’s womb, black hair and double chin; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who picked up the pieces of sticks and stones and words that hurt; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who accompanied me through the minefield of school hallways; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who sat at meetings with police officers and principals; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who picked me up from pride’s fall; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who helps abstract my foot from my mouth; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who breaks the chains of fear and anxiety and sets me free; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who bottles my tears and holds me tight; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who gives and takes away; his steadfast love endures forever

To him who saves me from myself; his steadfast love endures forever.

To him who loves me too much to leave me as I am; his steadfast love endures forever

I challenge you to repeat your own story and remember and give thanks. ²⁶“Give thanks to the God of heaven, FOR HIS STEADFAST LOVE ENDURES FOREVER.”

Erin Jacobsma