Ahhhh . . . Africa!

salt waves pummeling your beaches
high winds whipping up the sand
rainstorms thundering on tin roofs
sunbeams bouncing off flat land

bulbuls signaling the sunrise
lean dogs howling to the moon
bat calls beeping in the darkness
cattle moaning at high noon

hand plows scooping out a corn field
pestles pounding grain to flour
axes felling scrub and forests 
hammers forging metal power

djembes tamping out the downbeat
thrumming balaphones at night
bare feet thumping round the circle
dancers clapping in delight

may your rivers know their Maker
may your mountains leap with glee
may your palm fronds wave in greeting
may your people finally see

that the love of the Creator
that the strong song of his Son
made the music they are singing
formed the land they dance upon

breathed the whirlwinds and the breezes
gave them pineapples to grow
welcomed death to give them freedom
sent his Word so they can know

that the One who holds the ocean
in the cupping of his hand
wants to make them his own children
wants to recreate their land

so that all the crops are healthy
so that war’s explosions cease
so that every single rhythm
births a canticle of peace

Ahhhh . . . Africa!

In just five days we will board a jet plane and take off for that beloved continent where the Lord sent us to serve on mission for so many years. The excitement is building. We will smell the aromas of the markets, of wet earth, of fruit we’ve been missing. We will hear the drums again (“djembes” in the poem) and the balaphones, get to move in community with worshipers. We will see friends that have become true Family to us.

And best of all, we will have the privilege of joining these brothers and sisters, and sons and daughters, in the celebration of the Nyarafolo Scriptures that they are now receiving in printed form: the New Testament, Pentateuch and Psalms!  That is actually two-thirds of the Bible, significant portions that can be right in their own hands, food for their souls as they digest the Word of God in the language that speaks to their hearts!

Those decades of digging into the meaning of the Word and working with Nyarafolos to express it in their language have come to this precious moment, a conclusion. But the work is not finished – may many more people become able to read their language, especially those who never got to go to school, who cannot read in any other language either.

That brings me back to the words of this poem that came through my pen nine years ago, a peon of gratitude for the beauties of the land and prayer for the Word to be known by its people. May it be so!/Amen!/Amiina!/ Ki- taa ki puu bɛ̀ ! (That last version of “Amen” is Nyarafolo.)

Thank you for joining us on the journey – I will share highlights! That is, I will blog or post photos on Facebook when I actually have an Internet connection. But eventually we will connect!

If you would like to experience more of my contemplative poetry, check out  my collection of poems recently published by WestBow Press. It is available on these sites:

Direct from the publisher, WestBow Press: https://www.westbowpress.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/824658-when-he-whispers

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/When-He-Whispers-Learning-Journey/dp/1664224106/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=when+he+whispers+learning+to+listen+on+the+journey&link_code=qs&qid=1620606002&sourceid=Mozilla-search&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-he-whispers-linnea-boese/1139300248?ean=9781664224100

Christian Book Distributors: https://www.christianbook.com/when-whispers-learning-listen-the-journey/linnea-boese/9781664224100

Waiting

I’m running toward goals,
panting as the marathon
takes on new twists and turns.
I thought it would be
a straight run, one goal
in sight, but now it seems
I need to run four roads 
at once, keeping close track
of miles run, things done.
I’m not sitting back!
I’m moving ahead with purpose,
doing what you set before me.

But forgetting to listen.

Without your guidance
I’ll lose my way, get tangled up
in circular paths leading nowhere.
So now I stop, breathe in, 
breathe out. Listen.
The Word planted in me
puts out new leaves, fresh buds.
I hear you reminding me
that your timing is always
best! You hold my hand
and will lead me forward.
I can walk ahead, assured.

Running is not always a “must.”

This has been a year of waiting, right? We wait for pandemic restrictions to be lifted, for second vaccinations, for open borders, for news that the rate of infections and deaths has truly fallen. We wait to see loved ones who are not even that far away. And we wait to see how the next phase will turn out. What will be the changes in our jobs or personal goals? What should we do first, second, third?

I’m sure you, like me, can think of other times in your life when you somehow kept busy but were not sure you were doing the most important things. For me, the pandemic shut-down started out like that. At first I just tried this and that, read some books, wondered how to use my time. My mother-in-law requested a book of my poems. I gave her a personal collection for her birthday, then Christmas. Sorting the hundreds into themes took some time, but it felt productive.

Then I broke my ankle and for three months I was mostly chained to a chair. That was when a firm “prompt” came, to put together poems that talked about how I had learned to spend more time listening to my Lord. Selecting them, choosing images to underline some themes, and doing all the editing made my ankle-recovery time productive.

We were also dealing with a variety of other concerns that required much prayer and correspondence. And our ancient house (100 years old) needed renovations. Plus our second year of retirement was nearly over – which of the ministry opportunities we had had in mind were the ones we should or could pursue? It was very much like when you are on a journey and the first flight on your itinerary encounters problems and delays; it finally lands safely but you have missed the connecting flight. There you are, stranded, waiting for a different flight that may have room for you ten hours later. You pace the shop-lined halls, grab coffee, wait for news about where you need to go to catch that flight, but it’s hard to understand the foreign accent making announcements. You wait.

This spring when I wrote the poem above, I was realizing that although I was sharing in my book what the practice of listening had meant to me during my years on mission abroad, I was not putting it into practice currently.

As I began actually listening with intention, priorities became clearer. Certain proposed ministries were now closed doors since those possibilities were shutting down (church plants in the city that unexpectedly dissolved). But others began opening up! For instance, lately we’ve been amazed at the new connections the Lord is putting in place with African immigrants. Three young people in this category, all from Côte d’Ivoire, have already been a key part of our lives as we’ve shared our home, our love and some English language coaching. Now some friends have brought us into contact with an immigrant from Congo. While getting to know him we discovered that there is a church in the suburbs made up of French-speaking African immigrants! It looks like a new door is opening!

Day by day, we pray and ask the Lord to show us the way forward, to guide our words and actions for his purposes. And he does! I hope you are encouraged in your walk too, motivated to listen more intently as you navigate the tricky paths and daily choices.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take. (Prov. 3:5 NLT)

Hurting Humans Have His Heart

Bulbul songs in syncopation,
dove moans sifting down from trees,
coucal riffs descending, rhyming,
roosters greeting dawn with glee,

I’m surrounded by the music
harmonies of melodies.
In it all I find I’m waiting
for the One who talks to me.

While I’m waiting, here comes stillness,
then a distant toddler’s shout
and the noise of rumbling motors—
busy people heading out.

And I know that you are saying
hurting humans have your heart.
May each step that I am taking
lead to healing, a new start.

You, Creator, make the chorus.
You, Musician, plant the songs.
You, the Alpha and Omega,
speak the words that right the wrongs.

In that place set aside for worship and listening by the choir of birds that morning, I did not expect that message to come: “hurting humans have his heart.” But as I silenced the noisy thoughts still taking over in my brain, stilled my heart and picked up my pen, the description of the songs turned into a realization that Abba is the Healer, and he cares about everyone who is hurting. It might be that toddler I heard, or the motorcycle rider whipping by. It might be someone the Lord would make me “bump into” that day. My job: to follow the prompts, and to speak his words to the hurting people he brought my way.

Back in Côte d’Ivoire, one day I noticed a colleague slumped over their desk. I almost passed by, but instead stopped and asked if he was all right. Sure enough, he was facing a real dilemma. Another time, a friend’s daughter died suddenly of kidney complications. I accompanied her female relatives to the morgue, where they bathed the body and prepared it for the burial service that afternoon. The problem was that her body was so swollen that none of her best shirts, chosen by her family to give her dignity, could fit around her chest at all. That morning the Lord had been reminding me to respond to those in need. I pulled off my stretchy striped shirt, and it fit her. One of the women unwrapped her extra pagne (a two-yard wrap), offered it to me, and I wrapped it around my body as a covering until I would get home to get dressed again. The corpse was not aware of that “act of kindness,” but her worried sisters were!

Recently I had an urge that seemed straightforward but odd: I felt it important to participate in a church event that I had never attended before. It was not what I expected. A very hurting person ended up debriefing with me, a person I had only just introduced myself to, and we made a connection that may go much further. I’m just glad that I was there. Once again, I saw that the Lord knows who is hurting, and what he has in mind. When he can use me, even just to listen and encourage someone, he will send that message to “go.”

Wherever we are, there are hurting people, and Abba cares about them. How should we reach out? Where should we start? We can pray. And as the Lord wishes, he puts contacts in place at the right time, in his way.

So let’s be on alert to hear that prompt to reach out, or to respond when someone is suddenly in our space. Abba is at work, and we are his co-laborers, reflecting his Light and Love to those he puts in our path. We are all to be on mission as he directs!

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. (Col. 3:12 NIV)

REMINDER: If you want to dig more deeply into how the Lord was teaching me to listen while overseas, my book When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey can be found on these websites:

Direct from the publisher, WestBow Press: https://www.westbowpress.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/824658-when-he-whispers

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/When-He-Whispers-Learning-Journey/dp/1664224106/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=when+he+whispers+learning+to+listen+on+the+journey&link_code=qs&qid=1620606002&sourceid=Mozilla-search&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-he-whispers-linnea-boese/1139300248?ean=9781664224100

Christian Book Distributors: https://www.christianbook.com/when-whispers-learning-listen-the-journey/linnea-boese/9781664224100

Abba’s Scribe

I am but a scribe,
my fingers the feather
 in your hand,
my eyes dependent
on the light 
that you shine
on truth and error.

I am just your servant,
my body the vehicle
you sent here,
my health the strength
you provide
to do my service
for you and your Kingdom.



But I am also your child,
your daughter, chosen
to be adopted,
to be loved and treasured.
Abba, your arms
hold me tight;
your purpose
is the beat of my heart.

———-

This past Sunday our sending church celebrated the completion of forty years of work in linguistics and translation: the printed Nyarafolo Scripture portions (the New Testament, Pentateuch and Psalms). It was a day of joy on this side of the Pond; on July 31 there will be a much bigger celebration across the Pond in Côte d’Ivoire in the north, where the Nyarafolo live.

I am looking back on the hours spent along the way analyzing the sounds and tones of this complex language, the interviews that informed us about the culture and its values, and the research we did on the original meaning of biblical terms and their application to various contexts and to the Nyarafolo understanding. The piles of pen-and-ink papers led to piles of computer-printed papers and eventually to actual books — some for literacy, and some that were the biblical books as they were completed, one by one. And now this Book!

I realized I was Abba’s scribe, given the particular task of contributing to writing what would become this people group’s sole access to literature in their mother tongue, including two-thirds of the Bible. The scribe is behind the scenes, not the author but the transcriber of the words. And more: when we were getting ready to translate a book assigned to us, I would spend hours researching the original language (Greek or Hebrew) and its meaning, clarified by commentaries and dictionaries. I was the exegete. I would explain what I had learned to my coworker Moïse, who would propose Nyarafolo renderings. We would sometimes dig into the possibilities at length, especially when an expression or new word posed a challenge. Then I typed the words into the computer, ready for more editing and checking.

In this day and age we often think of a scribe as a kind of copyist, but in biblical times a scribe was recognized as someone who also had studied the ancient texts to the degree that they were regarded as specialists in the content of those writings. Jesus said, in Matthew 13:1: “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”  (ESV)

Wow! When I realized the kind of research that was required of me, and the wisdom and knowledge required in editing and checking, I began to understand why God had made me a perfectionist. That trait had often made me feel like a failure, ever since first grade. I just could not be perfect and do perfect work! But God makes each of us for his purpose, and this trait made me persevere to do the very best possible. I

The truth is that he has prepared certain tasks for each of us to accomplish for him: “For we are his workmanship, having been created in Christ Jesus for good works that God prepared beforehand so we may do them.” (Eph. 2:10 NET)

When I think about what the Lord empowered us to accomplish as we worked on this translation, and the part he led me to play in it, I see that he created me for this purpose, to be his scribe! I loved the requirement of study, of correcting the work in its stages, of making sure that it communicated to the Nyarafolo people. And he had given me a love for his Word, which was essential.

That is my story.

What is yours? If you are Abba’s son or daughter he has prepared “good works” for you to do that align with his purpose. Where has he placed you? What opportunities are out there for you? What has he given you a love for? We have each been gifted for a purpose in God’s community and in his plan to reach all peoples – those in your neighborhood, family, church or region, those who are like you and those who are different. When we are following his direction, he has placed where he wants us, and we are to bloom where we are planted. Wherever that may be, we are to reflect his light to those in darkness around us and show his love to everyone.

May we each be who he wants us to be! May his purpose be the beat of our hearts!

Hand in Hand with God

When the Creator was planning things out,
way back when, before, before,
he carefully thought about Dad's hands.
He knew that he would make them strong,
with long deft fingers, able to hold
onto God’s own hand while staying busy
doing the work he would give him to do.

He watched him grow up in Michigan,
grabbed his heart and made it his,
filled it with love for Barbara
and joined them together to serve as one,
his love pumping from their hearts
to hug the poor, the marginalized
and bring them into his arms.

So God put a scalpel into Dad's hand,
taught his long artistic fingers
how to carve with healing purpose:
cut through barriers, cut out harm,
save a life or bring life from the womb,
even in the dark unknown
of tragedies not seen before.



Dad lived for the praise of the Father’s glory
and in his old age entered into that place
where the beauty and majesty of our God 
will make everything make sense, 
that will make the hardships worth it all:
He now sees Jesus, his precious Lord
who has held him and moved his hand.

I do so miss Dad's long loving fingers
that led me, taught and played with me.
But I know where he is, united at last
with the Master who guided him faithfully
through every challenge as it came.
He knew it was what had been planned for him
and that brought him joy in the journey.

Father’s Day is around the corner, and yes, I am thinking about Dad, Dr. Dwight M. Slater. He taught me in word and action what it means to enjoy daily life.

When I was in eleventh grade I got to study via correspondence from home in Ferkessédougou since the boarding school our mission was running in Côte d’Ivoire had not yet finished adding the last two years of high school to their offerings. It was a very special year for me. Three other missionary came to study at our house, all of us planning to someday go into medical work. As you know, the Lord had other plans for me, but that goal gave me great motivation to spend most of my free time working at the mission hospital with my mom and dad. I learned newborn baby care from Mom. Dad let me assist in surgery where I learned all kind of things about anatomy and surgical procedures.

Best of all, I learned a lot about Dad. He always began a surgery with prayer. He loved his work, and commented step-by-step on the process – a great teacher. But when things were at a routine point his sense of humor would emerge. Once he asked the missionary nurse who was at hand to please try to find him some dessicated water in the storeroom – he knew she was naïve and would go look for it, and eventually get the joke.

Then at dinner, if there had been a particularly interesting case that day, he would grab a napkin or piece of paper and draw out the surgical picture for us. Sometimes visitors found that a bit unnerving!

One night when we gathered for devotions after supper he shared some verses that explained to me the way he viewed each day and its tasks.

24 A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, 25 for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment? 26 To the person who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness , , , (Eccl. 2:24-26a NIV)

He was a prime example of someone who found satisfaction in his toil. In addition to the scientific drama that energized him, I saw his acknowledgement that this toil – the hard work, the draining hours – was what God had purposefully handed to him to do. And God was with him in it, every moment.

I discovered that my work in mission also often exhausted me, and there were many unexpected hard times. But I tried to put this lesson learned by his example into practice and to be grateful for the meaningful challenge the Lord had assigned me: linguistic, exegetical, and cultural learning as I worked with native Nyarafolo speakers in the process of Bible translation. I often thought to myself: And to think I actually get paid to do this great stuff!

You’ve heard it before: live in the moment! But that moment — the normal daily moment or the tough one — is meaningful in a whole other sense when it is lived with God, “for without him, who can . . . find enjoyment?” This is an enjoyment that goes deeper than just doing work you like; it is enjoyment of working hand-in-hand with the Father, doing what he made us to do, where he puts us, with his purpose as our purpose.

I am in a new phase now, retirement, learning what the Lord has in mind for me in this setting, facing the seeming roadblocks of the pandemic, distances, and misunderstandings but being grateful for food and drink, for each opportunity that comes up and for the presence of the Lord. He is with us, and that makes all the difference! Dad realized that God put a scalpel in his hand for a reason, and served him with joy. My goal is to do the same, with a different tool in my hand but with the empowerment of the same God.

Of course I forget all this sometimes and get grumpy, forgetting where my satisfaction must be found. We all need to turn to the Lord in such times with this petition:

Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives. (Ps. 90:14 NLT)

Your Promptings

Heart open to you, Jesus,
I wait in silence.

The bulbul lauds you,
the bees harmonize,
setting leaves to quivering
as they light and leave.
A shiver is enough
to let me know you are here,
touching the deep fabric
of who I am, and who
you want me to be.





Just like the soft petals
that fall one by one 
from the glory above me,
your promptings drift
into my sentient soul.
I’m listening, you’re speaking.
This miracle of union
defies analysis, invites humility as awe takes over.

Have you longed, like I do, to know what the Lord is prompting me to do? How can we recognize a prompting that actually comes from him?

I’ve shared much of what I’ve learned in my collection of poetry, When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. I did indeed sometimes “hear” the Lord prompting me to do something while I was just sitting, waiting in silence, beneath the golden rain trees in my courtyard in Ferke. But I confess that I still get jolted when out of the blue, something comes to mind that I just cannot shake off. When I do follow through, I am blown away by the confirmation that this was not coincidence but a prompt from my Lord.

Let me me tell you about two that have happened here in the U.S., recently.

I was making myself a cup of tea in my kitchen and turned to take it back upstairs to my writing nook. But I could not shake off a feeling that I should not continue in that direction, but should instead go to the house of a neighbor that I had not seen in a few weeks. So I set the cup down and walked over to her house. I rang the doorbell, no answer. I knocked, no answer. I was pretty sure she was there because the tv was on; I could hear the noise. So I knocked harder, and the tv when off. She came to the door, opened it wide, and as I walked in, hugged me!  I was not expecting that. But then I saw her tears.

We went into the living room, and she shared that it was her husband’s birthday, but he was not there to celebrate (he had passed away from cancer the year before). I listened while she poured out the memories and her grief. We prayed together.

Could that have been just coincidence, that I should go see her at that particular moment?

Another woman that I used to know in years past has been out of sight/out of mind during this pandemic shutdown. But during the past few weeks I frequently wondered how she might be doing. I kept shrugging off what I now know was another prompt. When I finally followed through by phone yesterday, I was sad that I had delayed so long, letting my “priorities” take over. Her son was murdered five weeks ago, and she is in distress! Alone, shocked, grieving – and I finally was able to listen and offer paltry comfort. It was just a beginning, but I am so glad I called.

Reminder, Linn: pay attention to those promptings!  Take time to sit and ask, to listen! When the thoughts keep falling like petals, repeating some message, act on them!

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. (Jn. 10:27 NIV)

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. (Jas. 1:22 NIV)

I know I am being taught in specific ways how to love my neighbor, which is in the Word. I am still learning. What stories do you have to tell about the promptings that our Lord sends? I would love to hear them!

———————————

When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey — You can find the book on the following marketplaces:

Direct from the publisher, WestBow Press: https://www.westbowpress.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/824658-when-he-whispers

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/When-He-Whispers-Learning-Journey/dp/1664224106/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=when+he+whispers+learning+to+listen+on+the+journey&link_code=qs&qid=1620606002&sourceid=Mozilla-search&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-he-whispers-linnea-boese/1139300248?ean=9781664224100

Christian Book Distributors: https://www.christianbook.com/when-whispers-learning-listen-the-journey/linnea-boese/9781664224100

The Wall of Fog

Fog has painted a wall
between forest and all that’s beyond.
Thick white obscures all lines.
There is no lake, no forested shore
across those waters. What lies beyond
is blurred, hidden. Looking up we see
yet more white; there is no sky.
But we know that it is there.
I am reminded: we can’t see God,
but he is there. He is here.
When the wind blows, we see
tree branches dancing.
His Spirit works, and we can glimpse
what he is doing, inside the fog.


Don’t let this fog fool you,
saying there is nothing, No One
beyond what eyes can see.
Pay attention to the signs,
like a bird flying through the “wall”.
Remember what you’ve seen before,
reality beyond the gray.
And the closer you move to the fog
the more you can see
the ripples in the water, a hint
of expanse mostly hidden.
That fog is temporary, too.
There will come a time when
it will vanish, wiped away.

“Be still, and know that I am God."

Are you in a place where you wonder if God is really hearing your prayers? Do you wonder if he is inactive? Do you wish you could peek inside a curtain and see what might be happening, out of sight?

I’ve often been there. I pour out my heart to my Father, asking him to do what he says he does: hunt down the wandering sheep, intervene in a crisis, reveal wickedness and promote justice. I know that he says to wait for him – it is a theme throughout the psalms. It is often a long, anxious wait: “I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” (Ps. 130:6 NIV). I want whatever is obscuring my vision to dissipate, whether it be darkness, fog, distance, or chaos.

But his answer is that I need to quiet my soul and my babbling, to trust that he is always actively doing what is necessary to accomplish his purpose. In fact, he is the sovereign one who “works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will.” (Eph 1:10 NIV). I must remember that he is good, and has given his all to provide a way to healing, restoration, and new life. He can do way more than we imagine (Eph 3:20).

A metaphor came to mind that helps me calm my questions. He is the Ultimate Undercover Agent! Because he knows the ins and outs of every person’s situation, and the rolling out of the story of the nations, he can work through people that have no idea they are participating in accomplishing what he wants. He can work inside minds and hearts, even when those being lovingly pulled toward healing do not see his hand or recognize his voice. He is not distant; he is the one present in time and space, the I AM. He knows absolutely everything that is going on – even when a tiny bird falls down or my aging hair is thinning (Mat 10:29,30). In every situation, he is at work even when we cannot wrap our minds about it because we do not know all that he knows and we cannot see all that he is doing. Sometimes his messages seem coded, but we can stay alert and watch for the signs that he is on the move.

Once again I hear that message whispering in my heart: “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10). That says it all. Be quiet. Remember his awe-inspiring attributes of goodness and unending love, and that he is King of everything. Rest. Wait. He may be under cover, but he is on the move.

His Good Hand

His good hand sustains me,
lovingly shading me daily,
cupping my soul 
and holding me,
his Spirit breeze
moving gently, 
directing me
into the paths of his choosing.

He never gets tired,
he never gives up on me,
sheltering me
from burning heat,
shielding me
from poisoned darts,
grabbing my hand
when I stumble
so that I don’t fall down.







This is his hand of mercy,
this is his hand of power,
this is the hand 
that healed the sick,
chased away blindness,
gently blessed
the little ones,
and took the nails for me.









Spending hundreds of hours in the process of translating the Psalms into Nyarafolo taught me far more than I ever imagined it would. Sometimes it allowed me to suddenly realize the power of the original meaning of the metaphors, especially since most of them are natural for Nyarafolos in a way they are not for us Westerners.





Have you ever noticed how many times the Bible talks about God’s “right” hand? In cultures that have come to accept left-handedness as just as acceptable as right-handedness. the difference that is made by a reference to a “right” hand is lost. But in many cultures around the world, the right hand is seen as the one that is reserved for good actions; the left is for doing “dirty work”. For instance, in northern Côte d’Ivoire the right hand is to be used for eating, and for handing something to someone. The left hand is reserved for wiping your nose or other dirty body parts. Handing money to a vegetable seller with your left hand is an insult unless you apologize for the action. (Maybe your other arm is carrying heavy baggage. I found myself apologizing for my left hand at cash registers here in the U.S. when my right hand was occupied, confusing the cashiers!)





In the context of Scripture written in the Hebrew culture, the right hand is also the “good hand,” the hand of righteous action. It is the hand of righteous power for the king or leader, and the follower’s right hand is also their hand to be used for doing good. Use this information to interpret these verses:





You make your saving help my shield, and your right hand sustains me; your help has made me great. (Ps. 18:35 NIV)





4 In your majesty ride forth victoriously in the cause of truth, humility and justice; let your right hand achieve awesome deeds. (Ps. 45:4 NIV)





Like your name, O God, your praise reaches to the ends of the earth; your right hand is filled with righteousness. (Ps. 48:10 NIV)





Save us and help us with your right hand, that those you love may be delivered. (Ps. 60:5 NIV)





I cling to you; your right hand upholds me. (Ps. 63:8 NIV)





Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. (Ps. 73:23 NIV)





The LORD watches over you– the LORD is your shade at your right hand; (Ps. 121:5 NIV)





And yes, he is our shade! When you live in a hot climate with a sun that literally beats down on you, shade is a common metaphor for “protection.” You can see in the featured photo that sheep in West Africa look for shade, lining up in a narrow swath to survive the heat. With the LORD himself the protection (shade) at my right hand, he is making sure that I can keep doing good, protecting me so that I can be active in the right ways.  (And you can see in those last two words that “right” has certain key connotations of correctness in English too!)





Let us be deeply grateful for the loving, sustaining grip of our God, and the way that he acts for justice and does all that is necessary to empower us to do the same!

	


	





	

		
Just Cling!
	


	
	

		



















Just cling,
cells interlocked,
bark intact,
and let the sap flow
slowly but surely
through winter frost,
tingling gently, 
keeping you alive,
vibrantly pouring
when summer sun
saturates the world
with heat, 
a constant feeding 
in the sleep 
of night.
Rest, but cling.











Just cling,
small one,
drinking from
my veins,
and you will 
turn strong:
sturdy when 
wind whips you,
healthy though
insidious pests
attack and try
to suck the life
from you,
full of luscious
clustered fruit -- 
and you,
all mine!













Just cling!
And know that,
weak as you are
on your own
(a dry twig,
snapped and gone),
attached to me
you’re part
of something huge,
a Vine wrapped round the world, 
hugging humans
into a new thing:
variant colors
joined in peace,
re-Creation!










4 Remain in Me, and I in you. Just as a branch is unable to produce fruit by itself unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in Me. 5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. The one who remains in Me and I in him produces much fruit, because you can do nothing without Me. (Jn. 15:4-5 CSB)





Nothing! Jesus said we can do “nothing” without him. This is all about being able to produce “fruit” instead of withering away. And the fruit that he is referring to here comes from being so attached to him that what he wants is what we want, what he values is what we value, and what he wants us to do is what we want to do. With his love nourishing us, we can flourish and live out that love to those around us – this is exactly what we must do to be “fruitful”:





9 “As the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you. Remain in My love. 10 If you keep My commands you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father’s commands and remain in His love. 11 “I have spoken these things to you so that My joy may be in you and your joy may be complete. 12 This is My command: Love one another as I have loved you.  (Jn. 15:9-12 CSB)





Yes, clinging to him will have consequences, both joy and sacrifice. Loving one another in the sense Jesus is talking about includes loving our neighbor to the point of being willing to put our own life on the line for them:





13 No one has greater love than this, that someone would lay down his life for his friends. (Jn. 15:13 CSB)





We want to stay attached to Jesus, right? So are we willing to be who he wants us to be, and actually produce the kind of fruit he has in mind? This is dangerous stuff, not just a cozy rock-in-the-cradle-and-stay-isolated love. He wants us to reach out to others, even others different from us (cf the parable of the Good Samaritan). As we cling to him, following his desires, he holds us tight as we spread out as part of a constantly growing, loving community., each of us drinking in his amazing love and developing actual clusters of fruit. Let’s just cling!

	


	





	

		
Plant in the Morning and the Evening
	


	
	

		











You are indeed the Master of timing!





Your world turns; morning shows up





with colors and hope, turns into noon,





and as time passes the evening enters,





darkening the sky. The stars come out.





Unless there are clouds.










We humans also cycle through life.





We wake up infants who become teens,





adult life stretching out far for some,





for others too short. For everyone,





someday it comes to an end.










“So,” you have urged us, “rise in the morning





and plant your seed in the sun’s warm light.





The plants will sprout and blossom, grow tall,





and when it’s the season, there will be fruit,





the reason for all your work.”










We never know how long it will take





to get to that harvest. Rain, stormy winds,





or sometimes drought can change all plans.





Some crops die from infection or fire.





Or maybe too little was  planted.










So, you say, even in the evening,





don’t just stand there. Work at whatever





you gave me to do. I may get old





but I still can reach out, plant more seed,





and pray that it will grow.










Morning and evening, midnight and noon,





you set the cycle in place with its timing.





I breathe in your air, gain strength in your light,





and keep on going about your business





until you call me home.





This year the verse that was underlined for me was this:  “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord” (Rom. 12:11),





What? “Never?” Yes, there are interludes in life: vacations, retreats, retirement. But even then, the Word said, “Keep your spiritual fervor.” Don’t ever go off duty.  Be ready to serve the Master, whenever and wherever.





Why? Elsewhere that is also made clear: “Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let your hands not be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well” (Eccl. 11:6 NIV).





“This or that” – we won’t always be sowing in exactly the same way, with the same “seed.” I think of my mother-in-law, now 99 ½ years old, unable to move about freely but fervent in prayer, and always ready to tell a story she hopes might help someone be encouraged or maybe more receptive to the Good News. She is still “sowing” in the evening of her life. I think of my son, who has become a safe place for hurting people he meets on the Internet, who can share about the One who gives him peace.





Glenn and I are officially retired from our life of mission service overseas, but in this phase our Master still has us involved “over there” in new ways and is opening up opportunities to serve in our current neighborhood. Besides that, he allowed me to break my ankle and face restricted movement, then prompted me with a louder voice than usual to use this phase for writing – telling what he has done. It is different seed to sow, but can be planted even in the evening.





We have morning, afternoon and evening. Whatever time it is for us, let us be aware of how we can be planting!





The product of this winter’s “sowing” is When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. You can find the book on the following marketplaces:





Direct from the publisher, WestBow Press: https://www.westbowpress.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/824658-when-he-whispers





Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/When-He-Whispers-Learning-Journey/dp/1664224106/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=when+he+whispers+learning+to+listen+on+the+journey&link_code=qs&qid=1620606002&sourceid=Mozilla-search&sr=8-1





Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-he-whispers-linnea-boese/1139300248?ean=9781664224100





Christian Book Distributors: https://www.christianbook.com/when-whispers-learning-listen-the-journey/linnea-boese/9781664224100