If you live in or near a community that honors its Dutch heritage with an annual festival, you know that Tulip Time is here.
Early May is the time to celebrate all things Dutch: wooden shoes, parades, dancers in costume, street sweeping, Dutch pastries and sausages, and thousands upon thousands of tulips.
Tulips aren’t native to the Netherlands, and yet these flowers became an integral part of Dutch culture. Tulip bulbs became so valuable in the 1600s that they sold for more than a hundred times their weight in gold.
We may never know who began to cultivate the first wild tulips found in Asia, but by 1050 these flowers were already honored in Muslim Persia.
…of all the blooms in a Muslim garden, the tulip was regarded as the holiest, and the Turkish passion for this flower went far beyond mere appreciation of its beauty.
from Tulipomania by Mike Dash
By the 1500s the Turks began to cultivate tulips and breed new varieties with such expressive names as “Light of Paradise” and the “Matchless Pearl.” Rare and valuable tulips like these were grown in the interior gardens of the Sultan’s palace in Istanbul.
Later the Turks probably carried tulips west to eastern Europe via the Ottoman empire. Europeans who visited Istanbul were attracted to the flower’s bright colors and diversity.
Tulips began to spread to western Europe as nouveau riche merchants and Renaissance-inspired horticulturists both looked at gardening, and particularly the cultivation of the tulip, as a pursuit worthy of their time and money.
A Flemish merchant was unintentionally one of the first to introduce the tulip to northern Europe in 1562. Among the bales of cloth shipped back from the East, he found a package of tulip bulbs. Ignorant of their identity and oblivious to their value, he roasted them and ate them for supper.
The rest he planted in his garden next to the cabbages. When the tulips bloomed in the spring, the vibrant red and yellow flowers eventually came to the attention of a famous botanist (Clusius), who recognized their importance, and grew, studied, and gave bulbs to fellow horticulturalists. By 1593 this botanist, who had popularized the tulip, came to teach at Leiden University in the Dutch Republic and brought his valuable and vast tulip collection with him.
Tulips were embraced by the Dutch. They had found a home in Europe.
By the early seventeenth century
the tulip was an established favorite with many of the Dutch elite and the private passion of some of the most influential men in the republic.
from Tulipomania by Mike Dash
Tulips had become a status symbol.
The most desired tulips were quite rare and therefore very expensive. The magnificent variety called Semper Augustus was so coveted that records showed an offer of 12,000 guilders wasn’t enough to purchase ten bulbs. This was the beginning of what historians and economists call “tulip mania.”
Many Dutch saw that huge profits could be made in the tulip trade and so became tulip farmers. Tradesmen, desperate to better their standard of living, sold what they had to purchase bulbs. Weavers, for example, sold their looms.
As the demand for tulips increased, so did the price. The highest amount paid for a single tulip bulb was in 1637–an astounding 5200 guilders. At that time a carpenter could earn 250 guilders a year, and a middle class merchant might make 1500.
The Dutch even began to trade promissory notes for tulips in the ground, before they had bloomed–a futures market. Then the speculative bubble popped in the spring of 1637, and as quickly as fortunes had been made, they were lost. Growers were unable to sell even their most valuable and treasured bulbs.
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In a postapocalyptic movie I recently watched, the main character was asked what the world was like before the cataclysm. He replied that people didn’t know what was precious and what wasn’t.
What is precious to us?
What do we treasure?
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Matthew 6:21 NIV
Is it money and power? Is it prestige and status? Is it clothes and houses?
The human heart is so deceitful, that at times I’m not sure what I really do value. I have to ask myself, What do you spend your money and time on? Are you willing to sacrifice to obtain what you say is important?
The deeply flawed protagonist in the dystopian movie had a treasure–a Bible, perhaps the only remaining one. Do I treasure God’s word? Do I study and memorize the Bible as if it were truly precious to me?
The law from your mouth is more precious to me
than thousands of pieces of silver and gold.
Psalm 119:72 NIV
Is God Himself truly precious to me? What am I willing to give up to gain the kingdom of God? Do I seek things of lasting and intrinsic value?
Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.
Matthew 6:19-21 MSG
My prayer for us all
that we may ask ourselves and honestly answer
Where is your treasure? Where is your heart?
The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.
Matthew 13:44-46 NIV
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Photo by Martine Burrell
Photos by Barb Briggs
My apologies if you received a draft version of the upcoming Tulip Time post.
The “Save Draft” button is awfully close to the “Publish” button.
Words are interesting and their definitions intriguing, not as fixed in meaning as you might expect. Their definitions may change through time and due to where the speaker lives. These little pieces of language have history, and sometimes their antonyms tell us as much as their synonyms.
During these last few weeks I’ve watched spring come in small, seemingly weak ways, and during this time, God (who is Word himself) has been teaching me about one particular word:
“puny,” a funny-sounding word which means
1. of less than normal size and strength; weak
2. unimportant; insignificant; petty or minor
When I encounter a phrase once–I think nothing of it, twice–I think it’s interesting, but three times–I begin to pay attention. I had been “feeling kind of puny,” an idiom used more in certain parts of the USA than others. It means that I felt ill, so I had been reading more books and watching more movies than usual. I reread Jan Karon’s Mitford series and was impressed by Father Tim’s indefatigable housekeeper, Puny Bradshaw, who was anything but weak.
I watched a movie in which puny, frail, would-be World War II soldier, Steve Rogers, turns into the superhero, Captain America. In another film based on Marvel Comics, the antagonist, Loki, asserts that humans and superheroes are beneath him and declares, “I am a god.” Then the Incredible Hulk thrashes Loki as if he were a rag doll and pronounces him to be a “puny god.”
Jesus, too, must have seemed to be a weak, unimportant god as he hung on the cross. The religious leaders and one of the criminals crucified next to Jesus mocked and insulted Him:
save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God! Matthew 27:40 NIV
One of the criminals hanging there made fun of Jesus. He said, “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself! Save us! Luke 23:39
In another telling of the Gospel story, C.S. Lewis’ Aslan (in the Narnia tales) gives himself up to be tortured and killed. The White Witch believes she has won and that the “forever winter” of her rule will continue. But the seeming debility turns out to be Aslan’s– and Jesus’–great strength. Aslan’s death and return to life breaks the “old magic.” The crucifixion prepares the way for the Resurrection, just as spring pushes up through the debris of winter.
but we preach Christ crucified . . . Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. I Corinthians 1:23-25 NIV
As I watched the false “god” Loki overpowered by one of the “superheroes,” I remembered some of the words from songs we had sung just last Sunday in our worship service: “Mighty is our God” and “He is mighty to save.”
Sometimes knowing what a thing is not helps us to know what it is. “Mighty” is the opposite of “puny.”
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name. Luke 1:49 NIV
Our God is not a puny God.
He is a mighty God, who rose from the dead and saves us.
The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV
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If you’re a fan of the Little House on the Prairie books, you’ll remember the blizzard that forced Pa to tie a rope connecting the house and the barn, so that he wouldn’t get lost when he went outside to care for the livestock. White outs aren’t fictional; visibility in a snowstorm can be reduced to feet instead of miles.
In blizzard country, it can snow and blow until you lose sight of the horizon, as it did here two weeks ago. I measured the increasing severity of the storm by objects I lost sight of–first the horizon, then the neighbors’ houses, then the road, and, last, the trees in front of our house. A white out. A foot of snow fell overnight and into the next day, and the wind whipped the tiny flakes into drifts four feet high.
It’s easy to lose perspective when your world becomes smaller and smaller, when all you see are the storms of life roaring around you, when the barn disappears.
Maybe a loved one has died.
Maybe you face a seemingly endless task of caring for family members.
Maybe your financial situation is precarious.
Maybe the results of the latest lab test are disheartening.
Maybe family members who should have loved you, haven’t.
Maybe the doctors are mystified and can’t figure it out what “it” is.
Sometimes I feel like Laura, peering through the frosted window, struggling to see the barn during a white out. I begin to doubt God’s love and care for me when I am in the middle of great trials. At times I empathize with Job, thinking that God
. . . would crush me with a storm
and multiply my wounds for no reason.
Job 9:17 NIV
Eventually, storms end. Skies clear. Howling winds subside. What is left behind?
Drifts of sparkling snow,
gorgeous blue shadows,
bright, moonlit nights.
What is left when our personal trials pass? If we cooperate with God and allow him to work in us, the beauty of a changed character remains. God can take the inevitable storms and use them to transform us.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
James 1:2-4 NIV
James speaks of a joy during trials, a joy that is hard to imagine when we are in the middle of a difficult time. But this joy isn’t the same as gleeful happiness. In fact, we may actually be in pain.
In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.
I Peter 1:6 NIV
We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 5:3-5 MSG
Who wouldn’t want to be more patient, more mature? Who wouldn’t want to persevere and have a stronger faith?
Me. Sometimes. I can get so tired in the middle of the blizzard, I lose my perspective, and I don’t want to move forward. Those are the times you can pray for me, and if you get disoriented and weary during stormy trials, I’ll pray for you. And during the next white out, let’s follow that rope to the barn.
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I listened to the weather forecast, hoping for warmer temperatures, but the meteorologist predicted the frigid air mass would remain over the Midwest for the next two days. It wasn’t just bitterly cold (a wind chill of -30 to -40° F), it was dangerously cold. A temperature of -10° combined with a wind of 10 miles per hour produces a wind chill of -28°. Frostbite can occur in 30 minutes in these conditions.
School was cancelled. Church services and meetings were postponed. Any necessary outside work required wearing multiple layers: down coat, hat, scarf, insulated gloves and insulated pants on top of layers of socks, sweatshirts, and corduroy pants.
Arctic blasts can bring beauty, as well as danger. During these days of extreme cold, I was able to see sun dogs at sunset and at dawn. This optical phenomena forms as the light of the sun is refracted through hexagonal ice crystals in the atmosphere, creating bright spots (sometimes with rainbow colors), each arcing beside the sun.
Sun dogs are also known as “mock suns,” but their scientific name is parhelia (one is a parhelion), which comes from Greek words para and helios meaning “beside” and “sun.”
Sun dogs always appear 22° on each side of the sun and at the same elevation as the sun. The source of the term “sun dogs” is obscure. Is it from a Scandinavian word resembling “dog” or from Norse or Native American mythology? Is it simply because the bright spots follow the sun as a dog follows his master? Dictionary.com merely says the origin is uncertain.
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Along with many other bloggers, I wanted a single word from the Lord for the new year–one word to inspire me, to teach me, to challenge me. My word for 2015 is “close.” As I contemplated what this word might mean for me, I was rereading a book in which one of the characters refers to these verses in Acts:
Starting from scratch, he made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find him. He doesn’t play hide-and-seek with us. He’s not remote; he’s near. We live and move in him, can’t get away from him! One of your poets said it well: ‘We’re the God-created.’
Acts 17:26-28 MSG
God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’
Act 17:27, 28 NIV
I am a sun dog, existing only because of the light of the sun.
I want to follow God as closely as a dog follows its master.
I am a parhelion, distinct from God, yet wrapped up in His glory, always a mere 22° away.
I am para helios, close to the sun, a term that implies relationship.
My prayer for us all: that we may learn what it is to be close to the Lord and how He is already close to us.
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Twenty-two thousand miles in space above me, in a geosynchronous orbit is a satellite. Combined with the dish on the roof of my garage, I now have access to the internet again.24 hour so
I can check my email, shop, catch up on friends and family, watch a video on appliance repair, or publish a new blog post.
I can accomplish all this because the satellite is always there.
It is always sending and receiving signals
on clear mornings,
as well as partly cloudy days,
on foggy mornings,
when the sun is shining,
and even when it’s not.
I sit at my computer and type, having faith that the words I enter will always reach a satellite that I can’t see, much less understand. I believe it is there because people (whom I will probably never meet) designed it, built it, and launched it on a rocket into space. It’s too complicated, too advanced for me to understand completely.
It is, after all, rocket science.
I also have faith that God exists and communicates with us, and we with Him, even though He is unseen (except in the incarnate form of Jesus).
The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It’s our handle on what we can’t see. Hebrews 11:1 MSG
Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1 NIV
I believe the satellite exists because I see the results: news stories, new account balances, follow-up emails, invoices for packages that arrive in a few days.
I also have faith in the Lord, who is an unseen Spirit. I have faith in what I cannot see, because I see the results of the Spirit’s working in my life and in the life of others.
“You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next. That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God.”
John 3:7,8 MSG
Neighbors with a similar dish have warned us that heavy snow covering the dish will interfere with the signal. During such a snowstorm, the satellite is still there, still functioning, but the problem is on the receiving end. A quick brush with a soft broom should enable reception to return.
There’s often a problem on my part, when it comes to connecting with God, too. I am like the man who wanted healing for his sick son, but found his faith wanting. He pleaded with Jesus.
‘Oh, have mercy on us and do something if you can.’
‘If I can?” Jesus asked. ‘Anything is possible if you have faith.’
The father instantly replied, ‘I do have faith; oh, help me to have more!’ Mark 9:22-24
Jesus did have mercy on the man and his son and healed him.
Faith–it’s rocket science. I don’t have to understand or see everything to believe it.
My prayer for us all:
May our faith increase!
“Because you’re not yet taking God seriously,” said Jesus. “The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.” Matthew 17:20 MSG
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satellite and rocket photo from exede.com, night sky photo by freedigitalphotos.net
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We’ve been without internet, but should have access in a week or so.
Hope to “see” you soon.
The house had been bulldozed, burnt, and buried weeks ago, and I’d never noticed.
I drove past this home every time I went to our nearby town, and still I hadn’t realized it was gone.
The contractor’s progress in building a bigger, new house a few yards away had distracted me. Am I like the proverbial ravens, attracted to shiny, new objects?
I try to pay attention to the old, the dying and dead,
but do I only notice the sparkling, the new, the contemporary?
Do I neglect to see the beauty and meaning in the small, the quiet, and the ordinary? A new day’s light illuminating grassy seed heads dipped in dew is still a miracle.
The geometry spoken into the heart of a flower is no less perfect because the flower is called a weed.
Are things too small to merit my contemplation, like the millions of dust particles that turned the western sky into a burnished sunset?
Do I look, but do not see? Is it a rebellious heart that overlooks the wondrous that surrounds me?
“Son of man, you are living among a rebellious people. They have eyes to see but do not see and ears to hear but do not hear, for they are a rebellious people. Ezekiel 12:2 NIV
Have I failed to thank the Lord for the vistas revealed this fall because they are so “ordinary.”
Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear? And don’t you remember? Mark 8:18 NIV
Have I failed to pay attention to the glory at my feet, because it is expressed in common garden flowers and weeds growing in dusty gravel paths?
Have I neglected the everlasting love of God that surrounds me because I wasn’t paying attention?
Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words. I’m making a lasting covenant commitment with you, the same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love. Isaiah 55:3 MSG
My prayer for us all:
that we may have undistracted eyes to see
the physical beauty, the everlasting love
in all things, old and new, great and small.
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Let me tell you a story about a man named James Terrence John Molloy. J. T., as everyone knew him, was a traveling evangelist, and he had a wish.
When the time came for the Lord to call him home, he had a “druther.”
He wanted to be traveling on a road, going up to the crest of a hill and die at the top. J. T. said he would keep on going up the hill and on into heaven.
And he did. He lived a long life, preached the gospel, started churches, had children and grandchildren, and raised Poland China pigs.
One day on the way to visit his son, he died instantly of a heart attack
. . . in his car
. . . on a hill.
The car was still running when they found him.
J.R.R. Tolkien wrote of the journey of life in the Walking Song
the road goes ever on and on
I think about heaven as I travel dirt and gravel country roads, about following a road that begins in one world and ends in another.
The path of life leads upward . . .
Proverbs 15:24. NIV
This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.”
Jeremiah 6:16. NIV
In the way of righteousness there is life; along that path is immortality
That story about J.T., how do I know it’s true? He is my husband’s great-grandfather, and if I had my druthers, I’d keep going up the hill to heaven, too.
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I relaxed in a chair on my daughter’s patio, enjoying the sighing wind in the locust and oak trees, the musical jingle of wind chimes, and the warmth of the sun on my face. Then I became aware that I was being watched. A striped chipmunk sat at the edge of the patio’s cement pad, less than a yard from my feet. The chipmunk’s cheeks were bulging with small nuts, acorns, I surmised from the nearness of the oaks. He was a creature on a mission, on his way to store the nuts for winter, and I seemed to be in his way. Perhaps the chipmunk was wondering if I was a danger to him, if he dared risk it. Certainly I was an obstacle. He must have decided I was a harmless sort of giant, because he scampered under my chair and around the corner of the building. He and another chipmunk (he and she?) returned in a few minutes, with empty cheeks. The pair made several trips, coming from the east with cheeks full and returning from the west after caching their harvest. They continued to scurry unafraid and undeterred underneath or just behind my chair. Not everyone is as courageous as the chipmunks. In Number 13 we read the story of the spies whom Moses charged with scouting out the Promised Land. It was the beginning of the season to harvest grapes, and the men brought proof that this was a land of plenty.
they cut off a branch bearing a single cluster of grapes. Two of them carried it on a pole between them Numbers 13:23 NIV
The scouts all agreed that Canaan was a land of “milk and honey,” but full of powerful, strong people–the descendants of giants. Only Joshua and Caleb had faith in God and believed that they could conquer the land. The leaders pleaded with the people:
Only do not rebel against the Lord. And do not be afraid of the people of the land . . . Their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us. Do not be afraid of them. Number 14:9 NIV
Do you remember how that story ended? Instead of entering a land where harvest was underway, the children of Israel spent 40 more years in the desert. Fear is not the only obstacle in harvest. You must wait for the crops to be ready. The soybean fields on our farm are now a rusty-brown, and the golden stalks of corn have paled after being dried by a hard frost, but harvest may still be delayed. Farmers can check a sample from a field for moisture content to see if the corn or beans are dry enough to combine. If not, they may need to switch to another field that was planted with a different variety or to one that was planted earlier. The harvest of souls is another matter. It’s impossible to look at a person’s heart and “moisture test” their soul to know if they’re ripe for “harvest” into the kingdom of God. Russell and Barbara Reed, American missionaries in the Philippines, must have thought that surely the time was right once they had overcome the obstacle of learning the language of the people. They wanted to reach a tribal group on the island of Mindoro. For months they searched for the people, eventually found a village, and started learning their language. Years passed and initial interest changed to rejection. After nine years in the Philippines the Reeds, none of the tribal members had made a commitment to Christ.
That changed in May 1962. Traveling to the east again, they found a group of people with hungry hearts. Before long, seventy-five people were baptized, almost the entire adult population of three villages. What had made the difference? Centuries earlier a shaman had prophesied, ‘Someday white people will come here to teach us. Big people. And they will know our language. When they come, we must follow their teaching.’ This prophecy was passed down for 16 generations. When the leader in the east heard the Reeds speaking his language, he knew they were the ones for whom his tribe had waited more than 350 years. from Telling the Gospel Through Story by Christine Dillon
Sometimes the obstacle to “harvest” for the kingdom of God isn’t time, it’s place. A friend of mine moved and now teaches in a different state. The leadership in her new community has brought in speakers with a positive message to talk in the schools. Recently, a daytime presentation was followed by an evening meeting, where the gospel was presented. This would not, could not have happened in her previous school, she explained. The harvest in her small town was ripe. When the speaker concluded the evening presentation with an invitation to accept Christ as Lord and Savior, over a hundred came forward, and my friend was privileged to pray with some of them. She texted,
The fields are harvest-ripe here! Glory to God! We had many to pray with those that gave their lives to Christ, but not enough.
Do you not say, ‘There are still four months and then comes the harvest’? Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look at the fields, for they are already white for harvest! John 4:35 NKJV
Then [Jesus] said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” Matthew 9:37,38
My “harvest” prayer for us all: that we may be courageous when facing “giants,” that we may be wise with our words (written and spoken), that we may recognize the right time and place to share the good news, and that we may remember that God is the Lord of the harvest. * * * * *photos of grape vines by Barb Briggs * * * * * Linking with