The end of a thing is better than its beginning. — Ecc. 7:8.

As 2022 is coming to a close, I have to believe this Word in Ecclesiastes. Though it seems that something ending could be a sad thing, it doesn’t have to be. It’s all in how you look at it. 

Some of us may may look at the end of this year and see all the things we didn’t get done, the goals we didn’t accomplish, the projects we haven’t yet finished.

But you can also look at the end of this year as a closing of a book or the turning of a page — a conclusion. It may be that some things didn’t get completed as we’d hoped, but a new year, a new page is now available to start brand-new. 

It’s like a sunrise in the morning. It’s fresh, it’s pristine. Lam.3:23 says, His mercies are new every morning. The sun will always rise every day whether we see it or not, and likewise, it will always set in the evening too.

So the end of a year isn’t truly an end, it’s simply a marker in time when we reset again. 

The closing of a chapter or year in our lives allows us to open up a new one, to see with a new perspective and outlook on things. If something old doesn’t ever end, then something new can’t ever be born.

Now I’m not one who goes for New Year’s resolutions, however, I do believe in goal setting. I set goals every year for my health, spirituality, and miscellaneous things like reading books and working on my Spanish. I want to keep my mind, body, and spirit continually growing so I purposely seek to achieve development in these areas. I try to review them throughout the year to see if I’m making any progress.  

But I encourage you, dear reader, to welcome this new year. Reflect on the past one in order to learn from it, but not to live in regrets. If there are things we need to repent of, then do so, and keep moving forward. Gain understanding and wisdom from the past in order to enhance the future. Progress, not perfection.

Beginnings are good, yes, but they cannot happen without an ending. Finishing a book is nice; the story is over. And now that it’s done, we can start reading another one. This year is almost complete. Let’s wait for the rising sun to embrace a new one — it’s going to be better.

I find it interesting that Jesus spoke so much in parables. He’d give “pictures” of things in a story rather than just lecturing with words and information. Ever wonder why? One reason — because God gave us a unique brain.

The brain has two distinctive sides — the left and right — and each one has distinctive functions. The left is more organized with facts, figures and sequencing, and the right is more artistic with creativity, imagination, and intuition. So if you think about Jesus trying to explain the kingdom of God, His Father, or just the idea of Him being the Son of God, it’s not really within the realm of our logical thinking.

How does it seem logical that God’s Son would come to save the world by having to die a gruesome death? And how does it seem logical that Jesus would have to go away in order to send the Holy Spirit to us? (Which, by the way, we can’t see yet He lives inside of us — explain that too!) Do we fully understand these things by reasoning in our minds? I think not.

So thinking isn’t always the key with God. That’s the left side of the brain. Try engaging your right side and see if the stories Jesus tells don’t make more sense. 

For example, take the parable of the Prodigal Son. Jesus could have given a lesson about how Father God really, really, really loves us. That no matter what we could possibly do, the facts state that He’ll still love us. And though that would be a good message, it doesn’t necessarily get “into” us. It has to make the eighteen inch journey from our head to our heart — which can be an extremely long process at times. So rather than knowledge and evidence, Jesus presents a story for us to relate to.

Jesus told numerous stories about the kingdom of God too — it’s like a mustard seed, you have to be like a little child to receive it, it’s here right now, it’s within you, etc. Parables (stories with a lesson) are usually perceived through the right side of the brain, that artsy side. If we try to understand God’s ways through reasoning and rationalization — the left side of the brain — it’s can be difficult. Yes, we do use the left side for studying the Word, research, and many other things, but some things about the kingdom of God we just can’t lean on our own understanding. (Prov. 3:5) We simply have to trust Him. His ways are higher than ours. (Is.55:8,9)

Stories connect with our heart. Why else do we cry, or laugh, or feel sad when someone is emotionally sharing their testimony? We “feel” it! Just like movies and books, stories engage our hearts. And that’s what Jesus came to do — to capture our hearts, not our heads.

That’s also why the best teachers and speakers use their real-life testimonies —their stories grab our hearts so we understand internally; we truly feel what they’re saying and we can relate to it. 

The stories we tell — our testimonies — also have power. Rev. 12:11 says we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony. Our stories connect and touch the hearts of others which enables them to see Jesus and come to know Him. 

If you’re ever at a loss of knowing what to say to anyone concerning Jesus, tell them one of your stories of salvation, healing, provision, or comfort, and watch how the Spirit draws them to Him through it. 

By Cyndi

Being a native Floridan, I think there’s something in our genes that causes us to get excited whenever there’s a tropical storm or hurricane nearby. Not that we don’t pray for safety and protection for ourselves and those affected — some of us even go down to the beach and speak to the storm — but it’s simply an atmospheric phenomenon that stirs us up inside. 

It’s hard to fully explain the experience of wind, rain, the cooling of the air, and a change in barometric pressure; I imagine there’s a scientific reason behind it all. But watching a roaring ocean and swaying palm trees somehow reminds me of the power and majesty of God — it’s terrifyingly beautiful. 

Psalm 92:12 says “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree…” Palm trees have a way of bending easily to strong winds. They may have their tops blown off, but they usually continue to stand against the fury blasting them over. And isn’t it interesting that God uses them as an example of us, the righteous? 

Most of us would probably agree we’ve each had our share of squalls and tumultuous winds that have beat us up. We may even be in the midst of an onslaught right now. But God made palm trees to bend and not break. Like them, our roots are to be grounded, standing strong, yet able to sway with the winds of change and circumstances.

Furthermore, this verse says we will flourish. Not only can we bend and not break, but we can genuinely flourish! The saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” isn’t in the Bible, but it’s kinda true. The experiences we gain as the storms in life beat us down are the very things that can strengthen our faith. We accumulate “test”-imonies as we go through tests. And the Word says we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimonies. (Rev. 12:11)

I believe: The tempests we bend with become the towers that stand.

We Floridians see these storms and the palm trees bowing, and we wait. God is giving us experience, which gives us wisdom and patience for the next time a storm comes around. (James 1:3) It’s not always easy, for sure, but He can bring us peace when chaos is all around us. Bend like a palm tree, my friend. Bend, don’t break. 

 

(Photos taken in Atlantic Beach, FL after Hurricane Ian passed through as a tropical storm.)

Yesterday I picked up an old book on my shelf, Let Go, by François Fénelon, a collection of letters he’d written, and browsed through it a little. Glancing through some of the sections I’d underlined years ago, I came upon this counsel he’d given to a friend: “…love humility, obscurity, weakness, and submission. These things, so despised by the world, are the accomplished teachers of all truth.”

Hmmm. Teachers they are? (As Yoda might say.) 

Then I thought about it.

Humility — teaches me I don’t know everything. Nor will I ever. I may think I know a lot, but humility has taught me to always continue learning. Like adapting to new technology. Gone, for me, are the days of simply playing a piano at church; now we have a shiny red expensive keyboard with a ga-zillion knobs, dials, and slides that will do basically anything you want it to. Humility keeps me teachable, even to a younger generation.

Obscurity — reveals my pride and arrogance and the need to be seen. When I’m hurt because no one acknowledges me or what I did, God reminds me that my value and importance doesn’t come from others, but from Him. It’s a true heart check. Is He alone seeing me enough or am I looking for (or even needing) something from someone else? Obscurity keeps me hidden under His wing, anonymous to the world. 

Weakness — exposes my fears and flaws. In this world, weakness is regarded as a negative, something to be ashamed of, ridiculed for. Being weak makes me feel powerless and afraid. Most of us want to be seen as strong, yet, if it’s only my strength, it has limits. When I’m caring for my elderly mother, it can be demanding and difficult emotionally and physically, draining my might and patience. But Father God is the Almighty One, full of power and glory; and in acknowledging my weakness, it allows Him to be strong in me. (2 Cor.12:9) Weakness keeps me reliant upon God, not myself. 

Submission — uncovers my control issues. I mean, who really likes to be bossed around? But it’s not about forcing or dominating people or even circumstances. It’s about authority. I’ve tried to manage my life on my own, and I just go into debt, stay angry, and loose all peace and serenity. Traffic will drive me crazy, printers will refuse to work correctly, and toilets will stop up — all things I can’t control. Yet, when I submit to His oversight and remember that all things in life work together for my good (Rom.8:28), then I can relax, take a deep breath, regain my composure and continue on. Submission keeps me under His authority and protection.

So I think Fénelon got it right. These four things are great teachers of truths, though I’m still in the learning process. How about you? Had any good lessons lately?

By Cyndi