Some time ago, I was wasting a little time thinking about the physical life we have and the souls inside of us, and how all that works together. Mind you, it was all just conjecture on my part, compared against Scripture in only a very superficial way, so I warn you not to take what follows as theological truth-- only the musings of an old lady. 

At that time I was thinking about how our bodies are equipped with physical sense to experience, interpret and learn about the world around us. We rely on them, and the loss of even one of them is considered a great loss.

There will be a time, however, when we will lose all our senses, and yet continue to be aware: at death. It is a fact borne out both in experience (from those who have 'died' and live to tell about it) and in Scripture, that after death, the senses still live on in some way. One can still see and hear. I know less about the other ones, but something tells me they still function too. So, it seems to me that our senses transcend physicality somehow. In other words, they apparently overlap our souls. We go on, in our awareness, without bodies.

This morning I was thinking some more about this.

Last year I went on a trip out West, and one of the things I could have done was a balloon ride above the Tetons. It was expensive, so I passed it up, but I would have loved to try it. Anyway, I talked to a few of the people who did it. They said what was fascinating about it was the silence-- and yet, they could hear all sorts of sounds from sources far away. Separated from an 'immediate' environment, they heard the ordinary sounds of life coming from below, across a wide swath of land. That is something I would love to experience, but I'll never be able to, even if I took a balloon ride. I suffer from familial nerve deafness, and a tinnitus that drowns out alot of what I can hear. No matter where I go, the tinnitus goes with me, and it is that that I primarily hear 24/7/365. Just for a few minutes, I crave to hear silence. Or something like that balloon experience, with pure Earth-noise floating up to me. When my body is taken away, so will its physical limitations. I thank God for that truth to look forward to. No more tinnitus!

If my senses are connected to my soul, then it seems to follow that there is a spiritual dimension to sense. This too seems to be borne out in Scripture. There, it looks like a literary tool, but I wonder. All through Scripture, there are allusions to the idea that what is there for us to sense is not merely to physically sense:

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the LORD God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the LORD God among the trees of the garden. Genesis 3:8  Here it looks as though there was a discernment to the hearing of Adam and Eve that convicted them of their sinfulness in contrast to the Lord's purity.

Does not the ear test words as the tongue tastes food? Job 12:11 Think about this one. How does the ear 'test' words? and how should the tongue 'test' the taste of food? Is it possible that there is discernment to be had even in the work of the tongue as in the work of the ear?

Back when I was first thinking about all this, it struck me that while we are in our bodies, we will experience primarily the physical aspect of our senses. But when we have our bodies no longer, perhaps-- just perhaps, we will begin to experience the spiritual aspects of sight, smell, taste, touch and hearing. Maybe at that time we will being to discern the source of these things. Certainly the Scriptures make it clear that the physical aspect of experiencing God's wrath is not primarily physical-- although that is certainly present, as we will at that time all have immortal bodies-- but agonisingly spiritual. And for those who have acknowledged Christ and recognised the gift of His salvation-- the physical and spiritual aspects of our senses are in an explosion of joy.

Out of all this, I began to wonder if the Lord does not want us to begin to acknowledge and develop our spiritual senses, to strive to use what we have to gain a deeper wisdom and discernment than have those without God. Is it possible that there is more to our senses that we are overlooking? I found myself praying for discernment on this, that if there is some greater part of my soul's senses for which I need to be asking the Lord, that He would begin to open that up to me.

I don't want ESP, let me make that clear. What I want is to sense with my physical body, but also to discern the source, intention and meaning of what I am sensing. I want to wait for God in my body. I don't know how to put it better than that. I want that with careful discernment, and the watchful fellowship of the saints around me to guard me. All this for God's use, not for my profit.

This morning I was praying for the mother of a friend, who is suffering from advanced osteoporosis. There is alot of pain accompanying the final stages of this disease. As most know, the bones become like wet chalk. They simply crumble... and those who have it seem to be literally returning to dust.

Here are some things that God tells us about ourselves as humans:

for dust you are and to dust you will return. Genesis 3:19

You turn men back to dust, saying, "Return to dust, O sons of men." Psalm 90:3

But I am a worm and not a man... Psalm 22:6

You sweep men away in the sleep of death;  they are like the new grass of the morning-  though in the morning it springs up new, by evening it is dry and withered. Psalm 90:5,6

As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field;  the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. Psalm 103:15, 16

If ever you've beheld a sight that has made you feel insignificant, it would appear that you were correct. You really are. I was thinking yesterday about the billions of life stories that are lost to us forever. You have tens of thousands of ancestors whom you do not know. They met, they had love stories (I hope), and struggles, joys and tragedies. They died and you do not know where their bodies lie. You could make a movie out of some of their lives. They are lost to history forever. Your life may also be. From the above verses, it looks on the surface as though God gets the good of us for His purposes, and then we die.

Dryer lint. Table dust. The fuzz on top of your fridge. The nuisance stuff you sweep away and it is gone.

OK, I am depressing you. I'm doing all that, though, to make a point that is much more glorious. God is not finished with you, you mote of dust. What is crumbling away can be salvaged and can be remade into something that is His personal treasure, like the undiscovered gold that lay in the ground, was unearthed, and made into a thing of precious beauty:

So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; ⁴³it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; ⁴⁴it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. 1 Corinthians 15:43,44

...in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 1 Corinthians 15:52

He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit, and I will live to enjoy the light. Job 33:28

For my Father's will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. John 6:40

Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. John 14:1, ff.

You may feel, as I do, the approach of age. You may be there already, trapped in a body that no longer can merrily skip and jump and climb trees, with the agility that does not mind a risk. You may fear being forgotten, taking your place among the motes in the dustbin, 'good for nothing' now. You wanted to make a mark; something that forever attests to the fact that Kilroy was here.

My friend's mother is fading and crumbling. She has not made a mark on the world that will last beyond perhaps five or six generations, except in the fact that she has descendants. The good news is that since she is in Christ, though her weak and deteriorating body will indeed be swept away, it will only be put aside for a moment. This lady knows who the Lord is. She knows His blessed Name. She was created for Him, and has almost finished serving His purposes here on this earth. It isn't all that necessary that she be remembered on this earth. What matters is that she will never be forgotten by God Almighty.

Perhaps Hell is to be forgotten by God as only God can forget? To have been a disposable part of His Creation, serving a lesser purpose as in Romans 9:22? The greatest work in all the world, this very word from God Himself through the instruments of His people, has warned us of what is to come and pleads for us to look for His face, that we might never be forgotten and instead take our place in His embrace, at His table?

You age and you crumble, but there is the possibility held out to you that you can yet cheat death. Know that you can be written on His heart, never to be forgotten-- but to do that, you have to look for, know, and trust Him in the person of Jesus Christ. For all who look for Him can rely on the God Who promises:

...For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.  Romans 10:12, 13

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget,...

I will not forget you!   Isaiah 49:15

 An odd thing occurred last evening just before I went to bed. I was approached by temptation. Of course, temptation is nothing new to me, but it usually approaches in the form of say, a piece of cake, or a book when I have housework to do. No, the odd thing about this temptation was that it was in the form of something I'm usually not tempted by: luxury goods.

To be sure, I like well-crafted items of good quality. If I buy something, I want to to be sure that it will do the thing I require of it, and do it for a good while without repair or too much fuss. But last night I got into the strangest fantasy mode. I began to wonder what people saw in luxury watches. You know, Rolexes, Audemars-Piguet, Philippe-Patek. So I made a little experiment. I pretended I was in the market for one of these things. I went to their website with a 'money-is-no-object' mentality, and since so many had pictures with no price tag, I chose ones I liked, and then looked at the prices. The watches I liked ranged from around 5 to 15K. One watch I didn't choose was 230K. So when you look at a Rolex, you're looking at an automobile perched on a wrist.

From there, I went looking at estate jewelry. I'm not a person who wears alot of jewelry, but if I can afford it, I like it to be real gold, silver, gems. That usually means I stick with the semi-precious stuff-- garnets, amethysts, peridots, lapis, amber; all of which I like rather better than the more expensive stuff like sapphires, emeralds, rubies. I checked out some gorgeous, lavish real sapphire necklaces. $50K and up. All of it would look ridiculous on me. But it got me thinking about the lifestyles of people who actually buy this stuff.

We're approaching the need of a new car. You can guess what I did with that. I happen to like Jaguars and Land Rovers.

Here's the weird thing, though. Some of the things I saw were actually within reach. Our budget could manage a sapphire ring with diamonds. Even a modest Piaget watch. I sensed danger. It was as if I could feel Satan massaging my shoulders and whispering why not? into my willing ears. Imagine what it would be like.

There has always been a seed of this within me. As a college student, on a mad spring day, I often strolled down Newbury Street in Boston, where all the modish boutiques are. I'd go in and try on a $2K dress, or ask to see an emerald ring, and try it on. Then, it was pure fantasy, because I had no way of affording even the most modest thing in those shops. Today it is different. And Satan never gives up. Pray for me.

This morning, I started my devotions by singing the doxology from Romans. My devotional spot looks out the window into our leafy street. I have a jar of hay, a Christmas Cactus, a favorite vase with a sprig of lavender right there, and hand-built bookcases on either side of me.. Today it was rainy and dark, the way it is in the woods. The leaves were shining and dripping, shuddering with raindrops: I could see the puddles shivering with them. Looking up, I saw the yellow-orange-green of the October leaves against the grey sky. I thought of this peaceful place in my warm, cozy house, provided by my amazing, handsome, wonderful, kind, intelligent husband. I thought of my senses, being able to see-- and paint-- the good things around me. I keep the hay there to remind me of the fields I love, the horse barns in my past. The lavender reminds me of dear friends who love me.

For from Him, and through Him, and to Him, are all things...all these things have been given to me to enjoy.  You have the raindrops. You have the leaves. You can smell the hay. God Himself, and eternal life is yours through Christ, if you want Him. I have been given all these. All these I can offer to you, priceless.

But free! Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

(For me, that is.)

As I've mentioned before, I'm not a phone person. I use it only to convey information and receive it, not to chat, not to email, not to take pictures, not to text. My cell phone recently got dropped on the floor, and apparently broke. So now I have to get a new one. The one that broke was so old it didn't even have a camera on it.

I guess a camera wouldn't be bad if I got into a fender bender and needed to take a picture, so I'll take the basic camera feature.

I'd like a lead-lined holster because I don't always carry my purse, and I don't always have a pocket. I understand that current advice is to not use the cell phone more than 22 hours a week, and not to keep it in one's pocket because apparently they do up a risk of cancer. Even if I use a cell phone for only ten minutes a week , max, I still have to be available to others, which means it has to be on. And make me a carrier that can be hung around my neck, clipped to my shirt or attached to my arm via an armband, so I can hear it when it rings.

As a far-sighted person, I want one whose numbers are quite visible. Designers-- get with it! I don't want tiny shiny silver numbers on a grey surface!  And I don't want white numbers on gray rubber buttons, either. Big. Give me BIG numbers.

Speaking of buttons, I don't like the rubber ones. You can't always be sure you've pressed them properly. Can we go back to BIG metal buttons that go click?

I'm hard of hearing, so I want a volume device. Put it on the key pad, not on the side where it will get changed when jostled. And then there's the ringtone. Make it truly ear-splitting, so I can hear it when it's buried in my purse or pocket.

And speaking of purses, make it so that it flashes and vibrates violently, so I can see and feel it in my purse. While we are at it, get rid of the black and grey and dark blue and red. Make it BRIGHT YELLOW.

As for extras, well, a holder for a fresh daisy would be nice....

 This was taken from the Truth or Fiction website, and marked as TRUE:

Hooray for A Michigan State Professor!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The story begins at Michigan State University with a mechanical engineering professor named Indrek Wichman.

Wichman sent an e-mail to the Muslim Student's Association. The e-mail was in response to the students' protest
of the Danish cartoons that portrayed the Prophet Muhammad as a terrorist.
The group had complained the cartoons were 'hate speech.'  Enter Professor Wichman. In his e-mail, he said the following:

Dear Moslem Association,
As a professor of Mechanical Engineering here at MSU I intend to protest your protest. I am offended not by cartoons, but by more mundane things like beheadings of civilians, cowardly attacks on public buildings, suicide murders, murders of Catholic priests (the latest in Turkey ), burnings of Christian churches, the continued persecution of Coptic Christians in Egypt , the imposition of Sharia law on non-Muslims, the rapes of Scandinavian girls and women (called 'whores' in your culture), the murder of film directors in Holland, and the rioting and looting in Paris France.

This is what offends me, a soft-spoken person and academic, and many, many of my colleagues. I counsel you dissatisfied, aggressive, brutal, and uncivilized slave-trading Moslems to be very aware of this as you proceed with your infantile 'protests.'
If you do not like the values of the West - see the 1st Amendment - you are free to leave.

I hope for God's sake that most of you choose that option. Please return to your ancestral homelands and build them up yourselves instead of troubling Americans.

Cordially,

I. S. Wichman
Professor of Mechanical Engineering

As you can imagine,
the Muslim group at the university didn't like this too well. They're demanding that Wichman be reprimanded and the university impose mandatory diversity training for faculty and mandate a seminar on hate and discrimination for all freshmen. Now the local chapter of CAIR has jumped into the fray. CAIR, the Council on American-Islamic Relations, apparently doesn't believe that the good professor had the right to express his opinion. (unlike the broad latitude given to the Islamists to spew their hate-filled raves)  For its part, the university is standing its ground in support of Professor Wichman, saying the e-mail was private, and they don't intend to publicly condemn his remarks ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've just finished an indie-published book entitles Doctor Memsaab, Memories of a Medical Missionary Mom, by a delightful lady named Phyllis Irwin. Dr. Irwin helped to found the Bach Christian Hospital in the now war-torn highlands of Pakistan, back in the 50's. She was the founding doctor, and her hubby was the minister (and did x-rays on the side). The author is a chirpy, fearless lady who had never even been out of the US before she left for Pakistan. She and her husband reared three children there, and two have returned in non-medical work.

As much as I love my Muslim friends, there are times when I get so angry with their culture I just about see red. The Scriptures call Ishmael ' a wild donkey of a man'. Islam is a massive, stubborn demon of a religion. In her book Irwin matter-of-factly presents the attitudes she had to work with for decades. Her particular ministry was to Muslim women, because the men would not allow their women to be seen by men. Often she would treat over 100 people per day, many of them terminal. Many of these were women who suffered injuries during childbirth, and she operated on them to relieve what injuries she could.

DUring the fall months, the patient load eased a bit, and the other doctors were able to handle it, so Irwin and her husband would travel laboriously, uncomfortably, and very perilously into the high regions of Pakistan. Often they had to hike for hours to villages on foot, to find mud settlements that did not have so much as a sink or latrine. There she examined and doctored women who would never have been seen by a doctor otherwise. Often she found problems which caused her to plead with husbands to bring risky pregnancies to the hospital to give birth. Husbands refused often. Sometimes it was because they simply could not make the trip. But more frequently, it was because they could not be bothered. This was the case, not only in the hills, but also in the settlements close to the hospital.

There was a woman with a 45-pound ovarian cyst. With the tumor she weighed 105 pounds. Her husband had already given her up for dead. They cured her.

There were women who had leprosy flareups, bodies running with suppurating sores, who had given birth and would not be helped because of their husbands. There were women who were ignored and cast aside for second and third wives because they had only borne their husbands girls, or no children at all. There were many women who had TB in bones, joints, lungs and elsewhere.

I could go on and on. To be merciful, these husbands are held captive by centuries of cultural barbarism imposed by tribal Islam. Islam is a religion of fear. The Michigan State professor has it exactly right. But Asian Muslims are a hard people to hate, because they are prisoners in acute pain, hostages, really-- but also a people who are culturally incredibly hospitable and giving. If they do not comply with cultural norms they know they face community alienation and death. Life is so difficult that community is absolutely necessary. The Pakistani Muslim living in the highlands lives in an extreme example of this. One has to remember mercy when thinking about this people.

But the attitude towards women is not unique to this area. Hundreds of books attest to the universality of the inferiority of women from one end of Islam to the other. People often like to say that Christianity keeps women down too. This is a fallacy, which I could discuss at great length, but won't here.

This is a rant. I apologise for my disorganised presentation of this subject. All I can say is that when I think of Islam across this planet, I have three main emotions:

Outrage...because this is not the way God intended the world to be.

Sorrow...because there is a better way in Christ; for a people who are afraid to leave a filthy, dark dungeon even when offered the Key.

Hope...because I know that there will be at least a few of every one of the many peoples, tongues and tribes present in the resurrected world, where Jesus will personally wipe every tear from their eyes.

Oh, may I be a part of His work with them!

Love....