HE UNSEALS IT

"And when I had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say..."  that's way too repetitious, I thought. How come? I was working on memory work from Rev. 6:3.

No wonder. It was "HE" had opened the second seal. He, the Lamb. I am not the one Who opens the seals!

It was as if God winked, giving me both a reprimand and relief. Reprimand to not try to take matters into my own hands and try to solve puzzles myself. Relief that in God's good time, HE WILL resolve matters; I just need to leave it to Him.

Today's drawing is of a 5-min. baby deer who probably tried to scamper away on his own...hopefully not too far from his mother, who he'd be pretty helpless without.

Right. It'd be wisest for us to stay close to our Constant Guardian too. Isn't it good to know He stays close to us?

(Oh--I had only 2 mins. for last week's drawing of a sheep; this one was done in 5 mins.)

A BULLET FOR THE GENERAL

"A Bullet for the General". I'd watched a spaghetti western online to sketch some portraits from its first and last scenes, and when I submitted my work to an artists' site, a moderator there made encouraging comments, saying my drawing had been improving.

Several years ago, I wrote a story about another bullet. A young Jewish bride, condemned to die in a prison camp during the holocaust, in line to wait before a firing squad, heard her fiance's whispered command to lie down in the ditch; trust him; and stay still until he came to get her.

She did...until she heard the guns go off, and a horrific dread yanked her to her feet and to the fence where she could see the pile of executed corpses...yes, her beloved's was there. He loved her; he had protected her and saved her life. He took the bullet for her to do it. Decades later, when telling of how her beau loved her, she couldn't help but speak of how He died in her place. Wouldn't it be almost cruel to not let a holocaust survivor share of her experience?

Yet when I can't help telling the story of how Jesus loved me and died for me on the cross; I am told people today do not want to hear offensive things like death and the cross and it would be preferable that I address things like love, art, and brotherhood instead.

MY BENCH FRIEND

"Did you call me? I saw you waving, so I came," I said to the man on the bench. Actually, I knew he hadn't meant to call me, but I had to give some reason for crossing the street  and coming over to speak with a total stranger.

I had been walking home from the park one morning when it seemed I felt a tug to talk to the person in front of the drugstore. What? But I'd just crossed the street to get to the other side! But the urging was unmistakable, so I found myself crossing the street again, glad there was little traffic that early in the morning.

Bench Friend

No; of course he had not called me. At first, he looked at me with an expression that seemed to say he'd wanted to be left alone. But when I was about to go, he asked if I could help read the English instruction on the trash bin. Could I? I wouldn't have been able to read difficult kanji, but to read English is the one thing I COULD do--and God KNEW!

SEKI Drugstore across the street

I suppose the person just wanted to talk, and this was a way of keeping me there. It turns out he had been sitting there for quite a long time thinking about "his friend"'s son's suicide, and he had been crying and trying to get drunk while trying to make sense of it all. This man, my age, was born in the Seventh Day Adventist Hospital in Okinawa and knew the name of the small village where I grew up. Altho' he hadn't accepted Christ for himself, he had been given a Bible at that hospital and even knew of the word "agape" referring to God's Love!

Bench Friend with June

God knew, when I was coming home from the park that morning, about this person's situation and need to talk. A female would feel less threatening than a male, and it would be easier to express his doubts to a layperson (born in Okinawa) than to a clergyman. We ended up talking for about 2 hours. Since we both lived nearby agreed to meet there at the bench for more talks.

That was Aug., 2022. When I first met my friend at the bench, he was in such a negative and garbled state of mind, he could not go to work. God must've cleared up a lot of things for him, because we didn't need to meet for any more talks. Hopefully, we'll be meeting again in Heaven someday and talking about this encounter. It will be August soon, and now I am back down here in Okinawa, the island we were both born in. Father, please do take care of my bench friend.

You forget about everything else then

What? This is the sketch that was inspired by the worship service message.

When Peter, trying to walk across the water, was sinking in the water and looked up, it was Jesus that filled his sight then. To any floundering in waters of trouble Jesus would beckon look to Him for help--not to past training, smarts, or competence, even to others...why do we usually go to Him LAST?

Pastor Nishino was teaching the significance of the words "This Do In Remembrance of ME" often quoted during the Lord's Supper. It's a good thing, he said, to focus on our need to maintain holy lives an intimate walk with the Lord, but that isn't what God is telling us to remember. He's telling us to remember JESUS HIMSELF.

Peter must've echoed the Psalmist, pastor Nishino read: "save me, O God; for the waters are come unto my soul." (Ps. 69:1)

This is the first time I've heard Peter's sinking in the water being used as an illustration to teach COMMUNION!

Spaghetti Meal and Gecko's New Tail

Not sure what to name this post.

In Japan, you're hospitalized for a week after giving birth. I still remember one of my last days when I gave birth to my first girl, I had a craving for good ol' spaghetti. Recently, I found a photo when I was a girl myself, stuffing my face with it...why was I eating with a spoon?

I was overjoyed the day spaghetti was served in the maternity ward! We were getting rice three times a day until then.

That day's spaghetti was the usual tomato-sauce-based one eaten with a fork and with a side of soup; but since then I've gotten used to seeing it with clams or mixed with fermented soy beans and raw eggs and accompanied by miso soup using bean curd and seaweed, eaten with chopsticks. 

These foods sound delicious to me now, but they wouldn't have to that little girl in the black and white photos.

Had I been chuckling out loud? I felt thirsty all of a sudden and stood up to get something to drink. But when I slid open the door to the hallway to go to the kitchen, I scared--almost stepped on--a gecko, who must've come to listen to me. Leaving his twitching tail behind, it ran away. 

People may think I'm wacko, but I think geckos are adorable, and I wouldn't harm them for the world. I was a little saddened that it felt it had to hurt itself to get away.

Most geckos don't come out in the open and let humans see them. But a few days later, one did. Maybe it's wistful thinking, or imagination, but I think it's the same feller who came back to reassure me his tail had grown back!

I STILL can't think of a name for this post. Something about a spaghetti tail? No. Something about leaving behind your pride--which you don't really need--in order to live? That's kinda corny, besides, that still says nothing about spaghetti... Can't think of anything good.

"You're thinking too hard;" seemed to come from the gecko; "keep it simple." This was his suggestion.

GOTTA GO TO THE DOCTORS？

"Ugh. Do I gotta go again?" I was running out of my medicine so time to go to the clinic to pick up enough for the next few months. It seemed so senseless. I was just going to run out again so would have to get some more then.

Why couldn't modern medicine find some way of giving patients bodily systems that wouldn't be dependent on refilling gasoline...I mean, taking medicine! Kinya said he'd go with me, like he always does.

It was HOT...I hadn't been out for awhile, haven't been walking or had any real exercise, for that matter, so even this 5-min. walk felt like torture for my weak back. We were "just walking," after all, not stopping here and there to take captivating pictures of wildlife.

I didn't see any of the flowers in the flowerboxes or parking lot...

The only living creatures that greeted us, I thought, were the kitty in the clinic parking lot and the sculpted sparrows on the sidewalk rails; but they were pretty extras God wanted me to see; thank You, Father.

As I was waiting for my prescription to be filled, it began sprinkling. I guess God used that to give us natural air conditioning, to bring down the temperature. Kinya and I decided, instead of taking nature pictures, since we might get rained on, to stop in at a nearby grocery store this afternoon--and God had treats lined up there for me...by the time we got out of the store, the clouds had parted, showing us a beautiful blue sky again.

By now, I'd gotten in the frame of mind where I could see the flowers God had been placing along the way for me. I hadn't been able to enjoy them when thinking about how hot and miserable I was. Just before going inside when we got back, I noticed my Mother's Day orchid mentioned in a previous post.

Hm; thank You God, for loving even silly folk like me who "gotta" be made every once in a while to enjoy His blessings!

HORSE RACE TO THE BOTTOM

 I think God would have me share from my journal...

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"a crown was given to him. and he went forth conquering" (Rev. 6:2)

At any rate, superiority over other men--a crown of conquest--is what the natural man would possess. Altho' the law of love tells us to seek to dive down to lift others up, it is the exact opposite the natural man seeks. He wants to be the best he can possibly be; he wants to succeed. His formula for success is to reach the top and to attain a "crown"...A Nobel Peace Prize? A Gugenheim? Perhaps not so big. A promotion? Simply a scholarship to a respected institution? "Superiority" is perhaps not the word I'm looking for. Praise? (Dare I say it: adoration/worship?) Individuals want it to be said "I made a difference," want to be remembered above others.

The race to the bottom to provide encouragement on which others can rise and find the life of God--have we not forgotten about our need to do so? It is when we do so and wear stripes and scars, not badges, ribbons, and trophies of honor, that God will say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." (Matt.25:21)

This is an illustration I drew in '85 when we were finishing up our deputation and coming to Japan as single missionaries with Baptist Mid-Missions, but clearly illustrates our Race, I think, so thought I'd post it here.

Are we obsessed with making God's Love known such we let our dreams get crucified in obscurity and our pride shamed? Then can we know what it is to say, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." (Lk.23:46) And would not God Himself respond, "This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased." (Mk.1:11)

No; His Honor does not NEED our defense. But let us give all for Him in expression of our love for Him. In a rerun of the T.V. program, "Little House on the Prairie," a small illustration of this was given. Laura Ingalls gave up her treasured horse to Nellie Olsen in a trade for a stove for her mother.

The mother's first response was to say she couldn't let Laura give up her horse; she loved that horse! The father intervened: she loved her mother more so not to ruin it; let her give the gift. God often lets us honor Him with gifts He does not need to let us express our love for Him. (Of course, in this case, Laura's mother really could use that stove!)

...give up all for Christ? I can't even give up watching videos or doing online jigsaw puzzles--sigh.

Do I Look like an ORANGUTAN?!

Memory work said "Behold, a white horse," so I decided to work on timed drawings of horses.

After all, society's leaders are the shining stallions who cross the stage to accolades and cheers, right?

But those "horse seals" were opened by a lamb, weren't they? I did 2,5,and 10-min. drawings of sheep.

After all, it was the Lamb who was worthy, slain; and elders fell down before the Lamb, offering songs, prayer, worship, and adoration...it wasn't to any horse!

That's what God wants, it slowly came to me: not the redeemed in heaven claiming to be perfect saints now, but changed into humbled elders praising the LAMB!

So where was I going to be in all of this? Well, I was probably just...I pulled up a drawing of a little ape doing his best to stay cool by using a leaf for a sunbonnet.

Wait...that's ME? Serves me right for drawing Mommy once as an elephant. You read that post, right?

A GRIPPING LESSON

 "Just a little talk with Jesus makes it right."

That's become one of my favorite song lyrics. Sometimes I wonder why I do anything other than pray. But I forget to do so again and again...

When I started drawing seriously four years ago, I learned, among other things, artists drew with a "football hold" different than the grip used for detailed writing with a pencil. When I learned all the reasons why, I wanted to learn to do it right...but would I be able to switch now, in my 60's, when most students in art school are young, in their 20's or late teens? I looked up to Heaven...no; God wouldn't be interested in something like this! I didn't even bother to pray.

I got out my colored pencils and began doing tutorials designed for other media. Covering that amount of space with pencil (meant for detail work) was exhausting. Was it the third picture? I looked down at my ow hand and realized I'd been holding my pencils with a "football grip" in order to color it in! I looked up and could almost see God smiling.

"You didn't vocalize it, but I heard you anyway," He seemed to say.

"Who teaches like God?" (Job 36:22)

Herod...believed in God?

”Eeeeeee!" I remember feeling like i wanted to stretch until my joints came out of my sockets, when I had my first bout with restless leg syndrome in elementary, my variation of it affecting my arms down to my fingertips, not just my legs.

But it looks like it feels so good when babies do it. Stretch, I mean. The other day, I was watching some wake up after a good night's rest in tight swaddling, and they were irresistably adorable. 

How could anyone kill innocent infants (Matt. 2:16)? But...then I realized that King Herod's slaughter of babies was because he believed in God!

Some people think only those who don't believe in God do horrific things. Not so. Herod knew he'd acquired the throne by craft. When he heard the Christchild--the rightful heir to the throne--was born, the reason he felt threatened by a helpless baby born in poverty was because he BELIEVED a God in Heaven was out to get him.

Why else would a powerful head of government issue orders to wipe out defenseless infants of his own people?

Some have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge, according to the Bible. Paul believed God, but he persecuted followers of Christ. Pharisees believed God, but framed, shamed, and crucified Jesus. Religious leaders, in the name of God, have tormented laity down through history. So...just believing in God isn't enough?

What God says about us, not what we believe about Him, seems to be more important. Hm. Does God say, lovingly, "This is my beloved child."--as this father and mother clearly feel towards their boy--when He looks at us? That's what He said when He looked at Jesus being baptized; the pastor said this morning. Here is a pic from last month when he says he unintentionally almost drowned a young member baptizing her!

P.S.: (The redeemed have a special relationship with God, but it doesn't do away with our need to constantly repent. Some church workers attain ministry ends by ungodly means; there are perpetual relationship self-sins among the flock. However, unlike Herod, we know the One with Whom we have to do is a Merciful Everlasting Father.)

Uri (Eutychus) thought it was worth it

"Just know God made you the way you are and do what you do best for His glory." I was told. "If you like to write, write." Would supportive readers then take a peek at the below narrative glimpse:

URI (EUTYCHUS)

Uri, the Hebrew slave-boy, bone-tired from finishing his day's duties, rushed off to the home the reputable apostle was to speak at that day. The first century church did not have videotape, and who knew how many years it would be before Paul could come to Troas again. The large room had been filling up fast...people sitting on chairs, the floor, any place they could find...there! The WINDOWSILL! The frame was perfect to rest Uri's weary back. Ahh.

How long had he been sitting there? No one knows. Paul was well into his talk when interrupted by a disturbance at the window. Someone had fallen out! Fallen out? But this was 3rd Floor! Before anyone could mutter apology about the man's having nodded off during the sermon, Paul was down the steps and outside crouching over the lifeless form.

"No! God, you can't let this happen! He was here--because he loves YOU!" Paul cried, embracing the crumpled body. A small group had gathered around now, and to their astonishment, the lad opened his eyes! Some cried with joy and relief. Others were merely incredulous. To the confused slave were given explanations of how he had dropped off to sleep and fallen from the window.

"Young man, your name?" It was Paul. Uri, embarrassed, didn't want to be known as "the man who FELL FROM THE WINDOW BECAUSE HE FELL ASLEEP".

"Eutychus." he said, giving his Greek name. 

(Acts 20:9,10)

Don't we all know how Uri felt? We desperately want to please God but often end up making a royal mess of things. But there's no need to worry; God can glorify Himself out of our fiascos anyway.

Note: some criticize those in the congregation who fall asleep during the sermon as   "unspiritual". If it happens all the time, there may be a problem; but can it not be these believers prove, by their very attendance, they feel a message from God is WORTH listening to, no matter how tired they are, even if the presentation is not attractive/compelling enough to keep them awake? 

Would you be willing to have others see you nodding off to sleep, just to get a chance at hearing words of gold from God?

* Incidentally, the above story is, of course, fiction. I have no idea what Eutychus' Hebrew name really was.

** I didn't know if I should add this, because readers might end up remembering this instead of the rest of the post: my Bible teacher gave his students a handy way to remember the name Eutychus, saying, "If you'd have fallen out a 3rd floor window, Eutychus too!"

DADDY'S PICTURES

When pant legs snap shut, siblings sure come in handy for dressing! Daddy took a lot of pictures. This pic is titled, "I need some help here." 

There's another photo that's not so ordinary. But Daddy didn't take it, since he's in it. See?

It has to do with a phone call I got this morning from my Mom's cousin from Hawaii--a long story--she's actually from Hawaii but was a Christian schoolteacher in California; retired; came to Japan with her husband and was helping give out the Gospel until her husband passed away. She continued working alone until God led her to a Japanese evangelist who is now her husband.

"What? Your Dad was in Okinawa for grades 4 and 5?" she asked, startled. I explained to her how Grampa Oshiro had sent the family, from Canada, to live with wealthy relatives in Okinawa when necessary during Depression years.

Framed photos on his study shelves show his family, in later years, those relatives, and still later, our family.

Coaldale Outfielder Roy...but that's not a baseball cap! and Kimiko doing Field work in College Days

Is it any wonder that, when Daddy got saved, his first response was that somebody HAD to get the Gospel message to those with whom he'd swam the creeks, slapped the mosquitos, blabbed in the local dialect? He was no preacher...but as a ballplayer he knew in order to steal second base, you can't stand around thinking about it; he just quit his job (he was a schoolteacher), took off for Bible School training, left for the foreign field. Then he found out God had a helpmeet ONE year younger than him, already trained a full term in missionary work, waiting for him there...picture perfect!

How did God manage that?

PATCHWORK POST

Miscellaneous tidbits today. Nothing seemed to come together, so that's what you'll be getting: a "bara-bara" report.

Last week's beach picnic at the was rained out. But one happy result was that one of the toddlers that visited church stayed for the games that were scheduled at the church afterwards since we couldn't go out, and she ended up getting very attached to the pastor's wife! Maybe she'll come back again and keep coming until she's old enough to understand and accept the Gospel for herself!

My sister invited me to watch women's volleyball on her TV.  Leaving the apartment yesterday evening to go down to Joyce's, I'd said to my husband, "Tonight's game is with Poland (one of its players is 6'8"!). Expect me to come home crying; I'm pretty sure we're going to lose." Surprise, surprise: we won 3 sets to 1!

I had a mini sketchbook I always carry with me plus a tiny eraser. Joyce let me use her pencil to get a drawing of one of the players.

(Didn't I just recently write about expecting a blessing?) I was expecting to lose?!

After tonight's volleyball game (we lost), I was shown a 30-min. documentary about orangutans. I was really glad for these, because I thought my timed drawing of a primate turned out pretty good until I realized I'd done only the head; and needed to do the rest of the body too!

Someone I know very well thinks she's doing a good job thinking about Christ the Head. While this may be indispensable, she needs to remember it is definitely incomplete without the Body, the Church...