Devotionals

Thirsty for God

You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1

David wrote this Psalm in a place of solitude, a place out in the wilderness where no one was looking. He could have been his own man out there, breaking free from the requirements of the Jewish religious traditions. Or he could have thrown the largest pity party and succumbed to feelings of worthlessness and of blaming others, or of giving up.

But he didn’t do any of that. Psalm 63 gives us a glimpse into the heart and the character of a person who is the same whether he is at the temple with other worshipers, or in a lonely desert far away from the temple and the people who go there.

In verse 1, David uses the physical terrain as the image for how thirsty he is for God. He is in a wilderness, a dry and weary land where there is no water. In his commentary on this psalm, Calvin uses words like howling wasteland, wild, hideous solitude, and distracting horrors to describe this place. The Hebrew word used for it is midbar. It’s a wilderness of uninhabited land where flocks of sheep or goats are allowed to forage for grass and vegetation. It’s a place where survival has no guarantee. Everyone–man and animals–are doing all they know how just to stay alive.

David uses this picture to confess his desperate need for God’s presence. His soul thirsts for God. His whole being longs for God. It’s like he’s saying his very person is like this parched wasteland waiting and pining for the replenishing waters of God’s presence. He feels as though God is absent and he knows he won’t survive unless God returns.

Verses 2 through 5 tell us that David has had rich and satisfying experiences of God in the past. He has been to the holy place, to the sanctuary, where God made himself known to his people. David has been overwhelmed by God’s power and glory. He has felt God’s love. It is better to him than life. Only God can satisfy him. David chooses to sing and to praise God, even while he is in the desert alone, isolated and hunted.

In verses 6 through 9, David remembers God and his protection at night on his bed, whatever that bed might have been when sleeping outdoors. The night, in the darkness, is when he felt the most vulnerable and unprotected. In the night is when the fears came. But he turned his mind to God and found peace in his memories of how God had helped him in the midst of his troubles. God’s right hand is the power that will assist him in overcoming his enemy.

At the end of the psalm, in verses 9 to 12, David is fully aware that he has an enemy who wants to kill him. But he stays confident in the moral providence of the love and power of God. The enemy is intent on destroying David, but they will meet their own violent end.

The situation of this psalm is a conflict that has been forced upon him, and it will be resolved only by one person being victorious, and one person getting defeated.

David rejoices in God, He seeks God’s help in this situation. He desires God’s presence in the crisis and remembers the clear experience of God’s power and glory in the sanctuary. God doesn’t change. He had previously satisfied David’s longing soul, and would surely do so now. He will still reveal his power, glory, and love–even in the desert–and will receive praise for it.

The whole psalter is a prayer book–or rather–a soul book that represents God and the life we can have with him. The psalms embrace the wide experience and insight of the community of faith. So we have a great variety of hymns of praise, lament, and thanksgiving, songs that recall God’s active presence in Israel’s history, songs rooted in prophetic wisdom teaching, songs of repentance and trust, songs about God’s rule, and songs of longing and hope and irrepressible joy. Martin Luther calls the psalms the “Bible in miniature.” That’s why he advises praying all of them.

The psalms change us. They form our character as we allow them to sink deep into our hearts.

When you are in those exposed, fearful places like David was, what do you do? Do you meditate on God and remember your experiences of his power and glory? Do you praise him or long for him? Or do you let your fears get the best of you and succumb to blame or feelings of worthlessness that make you want to give up?

We learn from David right away in verse one to claim God as our own. You, God, are my God. Earnestly I seek you. The thirst for God is really where our devotion to God and our confidence in him starts. We have to want what he has to offer. We have to decide that he is worth the pursuit.

History and Research

History and Research Blog Post #3

Psalmody for Calvinist Worship

To discuss the use of the psalter for worship in Dutch churches of the Netherlands, we must first take a look at some history of the country. The Reformation first arrived in the Netherlands around 1530 because a variety of dissenting Protestant sects were developing. Among these were followers of John Calvin, known as Calvinists.

During 1550-90, the Netherlands was ruled by Spain under the Catholic King, Philip II. He enforced anti-Protestant policies and gave power to local magistrates to detect and destroy these heretics because they were viewed as threats to the royal government. This sort of persecution, along with rising taxes and frustration with Spanish rule, led to one hundred years of violence, destruction, and death, with religion as the primary reason.

In 1648, war ended, and a Protestant Dutch Republic was formed. This Republic included only seven of the provinces of the Netherlands. The other provinces of North Brabant and Limburg remained a Roman Catholic area, and it was goverened by the States-General.

The main religion of the Dutch Republic was Calvinism, which was the theological tradition of John Calvin. The Dutch Reformed Church (Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk) adopted his order and style for worship, including psalm singing. Calvin was French, and he arrived in Geneva, Switzerland, in 1536. Soon he discovered that there was no congregational singing in the worship services.

Prior to the Reformation, the Catholic tradition required the average lay person to stand silent while the music was given to the priests and the cantors. The words were sung in Latin, a language incomprehensible to the congregation. The reformers in Geneva influenced the churches there to ban all music from worship so that there was no singing at all. Calvin, and other ministers, were concerned about the coldness of worship so attempted to introduce the congregational singing of Psalms.

A couple years later, he had the opportunity to minister in Strasbourg, to a church of French refugees. The German Protestant congregations there had been singing the psalms for about a decade and caught Calvin’s attention. He began creating a Psalter in French, and when he eventually returned to Geneva, he continued to develop it. This Psalter was a work in progress and finally reached completion in 1562.

The Genevan Psalter includes 49 texts from Clement Marot, a French poet, and 101 from Theodore Beza who was a professor in Geneva. The melodies were mostly new compositions by musicians Guillaume Franc, Louis Bourgeios, and Pierre Davantes. The psalter contains 124 different tunes, some being used for more than one Psalm. Several tunes, like the ones used for Psalm 80 and Psalm 141, were borrowed from Gregorian chants.

The intervals between the notes are small and each tune stayed within an octave. Rhythms are simple using half notes and quarter notes.

Calvin wanted the songs to be primarily for the people in the congregation to sing, and not the laity or the choir only. He taught that the congregation should sing in unison to emphasize that God’s people sing praise to the Lord with one voice.

The Genevan Psalter was orginially published in French, but was translated to Dutch by Pieter Datheen using the Genevan melodies in 1566. This Dutch version became the official hymnbook for the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands.

Two well-known psalms from the Genevan Psalter are Psalm 42 and Psalm 134. This psalm uses the words to Psalm 134 in the Bible, but has the tune that we recognize as belonging to the Doxology. The words we sing to this tune are newer than the Genevan Psalter, having been written in the 1700’s.

Listen to Psalm 42

Listen to Psalm 134

Instead of using keys with majoy or minor chords, the psalms use modes. Represented among the Genevan melodies are Phrygian, like in Psalm 100

Mixolydian, like in Psalm 74

Aeolian, like in Psalm 72

Ionian, like in Psalm 97

In the first two years of publication, 27,000 copies of the 1562 Psalter were sold within a few years. The number of copies may well have reached 100,000 in over 30 editions, in addition to the thousands of copies printed in translation to nine languages, including Dutch. The psalter was an essential for practically every literate member of the Protestant congregations being formed all over Europe.

Singing the psalms in meter was at the heart of the communal prayer of God’s people in the Reformed and Presbyterian tradition. Metrical psalmody is the particular gift of the Reformed tradition to the broader Christian community.

Resources used to write this blog post include:

Worship, Seeking Understanding by John D. Witvliet

Article: A Reformed Approach to Psalmody: The Legacy of the Genevan Psalter by Emily R. Brink

New Genevan Psalter edited by George van Popta, published in Canada

Recordings of Psalms were taken from the corresponding website to the New Genevan Psalter: genevanpsalter.com

Devotionals

Foundations of Hope (Part 1)

And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. Romans 5:5

As a hospital chaplain, I find that the subject of hope surfaces in every conversation. People express hope about test results, about going back home, about their family, and about recovery. Hope sits at the bedside of Hospice patients, both those with faith, and those without. Hope colors the imagination, and it makes painful journeys bearable. Everyone places their hope in someone, or in something. The attitude of hope is consistent across all types and classes of people regardless of faith backgrounds or depths of suffering. We all hope. We all look forward to something good.

The motivation of hope is our current condition. If we were perfect, living in paradise with no pain, worry, or separation from those we love, we wouldn’t feel the need to look forward to something better because we already have it. Why hope for a good outcome when our situation is already the best it can possibly be?

How many of us can say our lives are perfect, and all of our problems are resolved? Probably none of us. How many of us are living in hope today? How many of us live with pain or loneliness or an unknown future?

Hope implies that how things are right now aren’t what they should be. There’s a gap between our current experience of reality and what God has designed. We are made aware of this gap all the time. Scripture says we are made to live forever, and yet we deal with aging, weakening bodies that seem to drag us down instead of lift us up.

We see extreme weather conditions, the destruction of tornadoes, floods, and fires. And yet we know that creation is God’s He made it and designed it to work in a balanced order. We see the gap in relationships too. We know we are all made in God’s image, loved and valued by him. And yet we see conflict, envy, strife, and violence.

We could blame this gap between reality and wholeness on sin, and that is partially true. But none of us are doing anything on purpose to make our lives harder. In those moments when we are facing crisis and uncertainty, our minds are more focused on disruption than they are on sin. We can be going along just fine enjoying reasonable health, doing what we like with a measure if independence. And then, for whatever reason, something happens to interrupt our lives and introduce all sorts of mayhem into it. This is disruption, when things no longer go smoothly. At these times, we find ourselves in a place where we need something or someone to pull us through.

By default, hope kicks in. If we’ve done the work of building a relationship with God, then our hope is in him. He is the one who pulls us through disruption. This new chaos and pain in our lives might be temporary, so that after it’s over we can return to our regular state.

Or, it might not. The disruption may launch a person on a whole new journey, and it might be one filled with real struggles and suffering. What motivates us to have patience, or to see the good, or to expect God’s care and his love? Romans 5 shows us that hope does. Hope in God pulls us through disruption.

When talking of foundations to our hope, Paul mentions four of them in this passage. The first one is our suffering. We wouldn’t expect that necessarily, but suffering has a direct contribution to hope. The second one is God’s magnanimous love. I use that long word to help us imagine how big, kind, and generous God’s love is. The third foundation is Christ’s sacrifice. Jesus’ death is expression of God’s big love, and it accomplishes something very important and permanent for us. The last one is the glory we will share with God someday.

At that time, the gap between reality as we experience it, and God’s intended design will no longer exist. God will close it at the end of time when all is made right and his glory is fully revealed. Suffering is temporary but valuable. It works for us so much strength of character and it grows our hope. Hope does not disappoint. We can live each day in full confidence that we are justified, we are at peace with God, and we have gained access to God’s grace by our faith in him.

Devotionals

A Faithful Response to Darkness

Lord, you are the God who saves me; day and night I cry out to you. May my prayer come before you; turn your ear to my cry. Psalm 88:1, 2

The author of Psalm 88 is a courageous person because he is so honest. He gives us a glimpse of exactly how we should behave in the darkness. A shallow person skimming along on the culture’s popular view of how to cope with suffering is unable to talk to God the way this person does. The psalmist has confidence in God to handle the depths of his agony and the strength of his emotions.

He shows us how to interact with God during the dark times. Right away in verse 1, he declares what he has always known, that God is the one who saves him. Instead of dwelling on his inadequate humanity to meet the challenges posed to him in suffering, he turns to God, the source of hope, as the one who will sustain him and help him endure.

Declaring the truth about who God is puts restraints on our sorrow. Remembering these truths helps us keep our perspective. Without God, we would fall into despair, and we would get swallowed up in the abyss of our own hopelessness. But with him, we have a place to lean and someone to share our pain with us when the road gets too hard.

When life and health and relationships and even our sense of God’s love for us falls apart, we must rely on the memories we have of who God is. And then we must follow the psalmist’s example. Cry out to God over and over again. Remind him of what he is really like. Tell him of the ways he has loved you and been faithful to you in the past.

Be as honest with him as you possibly can. Ask him why he rejects you. Ask him why he hides his face from you. Tell him about your suffering and about how you feel. God can take it. Because if you remember, he’s been there. In the form of Jesus, he has hung on a cross in pain and alone. Like the psalmist in verse 14, Jesus, too, asked, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” God’s wrath swept over him too. On the day he was laid in the grave, Jesus lost his life, his friends, his neighbors, his sense of connection to God. He experienced the darkest of the dark for you.

With the words “darkness is my closest friend,” this psalm ends unresolved. The psalmist is just sitting here in the dark suffering. He knows who God is but he has given up looking for the light, expecting it to ever shine again.

As we sit here with the psalmist in this place, let’s turn to the New Testament and take a look at these words from Paul in Romans 8:17-18. “Now if we are children then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

2 Corinthians 4:17 says, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

I Peter 4:12-13 also carries the theme of glory. “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.”

According to Christian theology, the ultimate purpose of life is to glorify God. This means that the first purpose for our suffering is the glory of God. When we follow the psalmist’s example of a faithful response to suffering, we are ultimately placing all of our trust in God with nothing held back. We can’t see him or feel him but we trust him. When we do this. We treat him as glorious, as infinitely beyond us in goodness and wisdom.

Devotions for the Church Year

Gratitude is Healthy

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. I Thessalonians 5:16-18

The apostle Paul planted a church in Thessalonica, a city of 200,000 people. His success there provoked conflict among the unbelieving Jews. They started a riot, hauled some of the members of this new church before the city authorities, and charged them with disloyalty to Caesar. Paul leaves town, so wrote this letter to them from a distant location. These instructions from verses 16 through 18 are part of a longer list of final instructions Paul gives in his effort to still pastor this church and lead them.

Even though Paul was gone, the new church still dealt with hostility. These Christians suffered persecution from the beginning for their commitment to Jesus Christ.

Imagine living in a city like that and hearing these words from Paul to rejoice always, to pray continually, and to give thanks in all circumstances. Not just when the sun shone and things were going your way, but even when you were treated unfairly in the marketplace, or your respected pastor was forced to leave town, or the civil authorities gave unjust convictions for crimes to your friends and family.

Rejoice, Paul says. Give thanks in all circumstances, Paul says. But why would he tell people to act that way? Because this is God’s will for you. But doesn’t God see the torment, the injustice, and the pain? Yes, he does. When Paul writes that it’s God’s will for us to rejoice, pray, and give thanks, he’s telling us that God is interested in more than our comforts, our success, and our ability to get along with the world.

God wanted to develop in the heart and the culture of this new church a mentality of abundance. he wants them to see everything they have as a blessing, and not as something they deserve. The Thessalonian believers are invited to live in their pagan, Caesar-worshiping culture as lights that shine for Christ. Rejoicing, prayer, and gratitude create the right conditions for the holy Spirit to work. If the Thessalonian church complained instead of rejoiced, if they criticized or passed judgment instead of saying “thank you,” and if they gave God the silent treatment out of frustration over their circumstances, then the Spirit would have no place among them.

But this small group of people said, “We are going to praise God even when life gets hard. We are going to keep on praying even when the deck is stacked against us. We are going to hold onto the good, look for it in others, and then thank them when we see it.” Because of this choice the Thessalonian church made, that city began to change.

God’s will for them ultimately was to become contagious by spreading the love of Christ. They were attractive because they held the keys to freedom. they possessed the reasons for true, lasting hope. They conducted a power for life and healing that was stronger than any decree or political power associated with Caesar.

Keep practicing gratitude. It’s healthy for our own hearts and souls, and it’s healthy for our communities and for our world. When you are a person who is thankful, kind and attentive to the good around you, then you are someone that everyone wants to be with. A grateful life is attractive because that person knows they have enough. They know they have an abundant supply that never runs out. They rest confident in the Heavenly Father from whom these good gifts come.

Practicing gratitude supplies us with plenty to meet our own needs, and with plenty to give away. Gratitude and thankfulness are lovely gifts that keep on giving. This is God’s will for us–to live in his enduring love and then to give it away whenever we can. As we do this, his Holy Spirit is given the space to work among us in power and with the promise of transformation. Gratitude is healthy.

Of a Dutch Girl

Dutch Holiday Tradition: Sinterklaas

This weekend, the town where I live will keep Dutch tradition alive with a parade and activities for children to celebrate Sinterklaas Day. I remember as a college student at Northwestern in Orange City many years ago, going down town to help pass out chocolate candies wrapped in gold foil to look like coins. We gave them to the children waiting on the sidewalk for Sinterklaas to appear.

Sinterklaas is the Dutch version of the American Santa Klaus, and of the English St. Nicholas. The original Saint Nicholas lived in Turkey in the twelfth century and was the patron saint for children.

On December 6, Sinterklaas arrives from Spain in a large Spanish galleon ship with his helpers, among whom is a distinctive young man by the name of Zwarte Piet, or Black Pete, who is actually a black child. He helps Sinterklaas carry gifts for all the children who have been good over the past year, and coal for those who have been bad.

When he arrives on land, Sinterklaas rides a white horse named Amerigo and goes through town giving candy to children. His white horse carries him from rooftop to rooftop at night while Zwarte Piet goes down the chimney to leave candy in the wooden shoes the Dutch children have left beside the fireplace. In the morning, the children awaken to find that Sinterklaas had indeed visited their house.

The Dutch wait until after Sinterklaas Day has passed to put up their Christmas trees. The season lasts through Christmas Day and extends to Epiphany on January 6 when the decorations are finally taken down. I remember my grandmother keeping her Christmas tree up until Epiphany. It was important to mark the season by the Church’s observance of the first Sunday of Advent in early December until the end of the season one week into January.

In Pella, our tulip festival in May includes a parade in which Sinterklaas, Zwarte Piet, Amerigo, and many school-aged helpers ride the Spanish galleon down the street as one of the parade entries. Sinterklaas is dressed in a rich red robe with white trim and a tall, pointed hat like a Catholic bishop would wear. He also holds a long staff like a shepherd would use.

Sinterklaas has the appearance of clergy from the pre-reformation era, and yet in addition to the sobriety of his outfit, he has a whimsical charm. All the way down to his long white beard, he looks like someone you would want to receive candy from. He has an air of cheer and of festivity about him that ushers in the celebratory season.

Associated with Sinterklaas Day is klaaskoek, or St. Nicholas cake. It’s a dessert eaten on December 6 in observance of Sinterklaas Day. Over time, the cakes changed to become more like cookies and took the name speculaas. They originated in the Netherlands and Belgium during the Middle Ages when exotic spices arrived as a result of expanding trade routes. Once a luxury treat, speculaas became associated with Sinterklaas festivities, often featuring the figures of the Saint or of festive symbols. As the Dutch spice trade grew in the 17th century, speculaas became more accessible.

The dough for speculaas, or St. Nick cookies, is firm enough to press into molds. Each St. Nick cookie at our local bakery is in the shape of a windmill. During this first week of December, the cookies are also shaped into large forms of Sinterklaas.

Here is a photo of a cookie mold that I have to make them into windmill shapes. The mold must be well greased so that after the dough has been pressed into it, the cookie will easily release onto the baking sheet. The cookies bake up in the shape of the mold and with faint imprints of the design on their surfaces.

St. Nick cookies are my favorite kind of cookie, better even than a chocolate chip cookie or peanut butter. Here is a recipe I have from my grandmother for St. Nick, or Speculaas, or Dutch Spice Cookies. They are all the same. I love these and will make up a large batch to keep on hand over the holidays. They work really well to share with coworkers, at family gatherings, or just to snack on at home with a nice, hot cup of tea. (That’s my favorite way to eat them).

Grandma’s Dutch Spice Cookies

1 cup brown sugar                                                                  1 egg

1 cup while sugar                                                                    1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 cup butter                                                                              ½ teaspoon nutmeg

¼ cup vegetable shortening or lard                                    ½ teaspoon cloves

3 cups flour                                                                               ½ teaspoon baking soda

                                                                                                     ½ teaspoon vanilla

Cream the sugars, butter, and shortening together. Add the egg and slowly add the flour with the mixer turned down. Then add the spices and vanilla. Form the dough into small balls and place on a baking sheet covered in parchment paper. Press with a fork, a cookie stamp, or a meat tenderizer.

Follow the recipe to this point to make round cookies. For making cookies in a mold, grease the mold, and press a portion of dough into the mold. Release the cookie onto the baking sheet.

Bake at 350 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes or until nicely brown.

This recipe makes 90 round cookies, and will make about 2 dozen molded cookies, depending on the size of the mold.

Store in an airtight container to share with friends for the holidays or make ahead and freeze.

 

Devotionals

A Conversation Gone Awry

The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.” John 4:15

Have you ever been in a meeting with a group of people, and the topic you wanted to talk about never gets brought up? Instead, the other people keep sidestepping it by talking about everything else. You have certain questions you need answered or problems that need solutions. But instead of getting any work done, the group talks about food or the weather or the latest controversies in the news.

That is how reading this dialogue between Jesus and the woman at the well feels. As readers, we know who Jesus is, and we want to see this scene explode with his marvelous glory. But what really happens is a conversation with a woman who would rather talk about anything else than what Jesus wants to talk about. She tries to throw him off track by bringing up a controversial and somewhat political matter. She is also striving to find safe, neutral ground rather than letting Jesus take the lead.

Jesus doesn’t try to get the conversation back on track but uses the opportunity to teach her about who he is. Eventually, the woman starts to catch on and she says, “When the Messiah comes, he will explain everything to us.” Jesus then reveals his true identity by saying, “I am he.” This means, “I Am is the one speaking to you.” It’s the term God uses for himself when speaking to Moses from the burning bush. “I Am.”

“Give me this water so I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here,” the woman requests of Jesus. She is thinking of the household task of drawing water every day. Jesus is thinking of the deeper matters in her life that had isolated her in the first place so that she must come to the well at a time when no one else did.

She doesn’t want to talk about the inappropriate relationships. They are too disappointing and too shameful. It was much safer to keep the conversation on the well. But Jesus wants her to understand that the water he offers her will heal her of everything that happened in her past. She must first come to terms with who he is, then agree with him about the truth of her life, otherwise called repentance. When we agree with God about the things we’ve done and the choices we’ve made, we can see our lives for what they really are and then take the steps to make changes. Then, like the woman at the well, we can be free from sin. The river of cleansing that Jesus offers will flow into us as soon as we start to confess.

In this disjointed conversation with the Samaritan woman, Jesus seizes the opportunity to talk about the nature of God and of the worship he deserves. True worship, according to Jesus, is defined by our relationship to God. We adore a person, not a philosophy or idol set up in his place. We express praise, gratitude, and love to a real, live person.

The twists and turns of this dialogue between Jesus and the Samaritan woman cover a lot of ground. How do the topics of life-giving water, repentance, and worship relate? It begins with the presence of God. He appeared that day in Samaria, near Mount Gerizim, in the form of the human Jesus. He invited a woman into conversation with the goal of helping her see her life accurately so that she might make changes. When the repentance and confession was completed, she was then released from sin and able to worship God in a proper way.

The presence of God invites repentance which in turn invites worship. We see what God has done for us and then our hearts respond with outpourings of love and gratitude. This happened in the woman’s life when she left her water jar and went back to town to invite her neighbors to come and see Jesus. She took action as a result of having been in God’s presence.

We can follow the same pattern in our own lives. At some point, we encounter the presence of God because he is searching for us, the lost sheep. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us,” Romans says. Then God helps us see, by the gentle power of the Holy Spirit, what our lives are really like. We make changes by confessing and allowing him to wash us clean. We are released from sin and free to take action, to move in faith as a result of being in God’s presence. This can happen when we first become a Christian, and also every day of our lives as we grow in relationship with him, praising, serving, and loving him with our worship.

Of a Woman in Ministry

The Liturgy of Fall

October has been a lovely month where I live. Day after day, the skies have been blue, the wind has been mild, and the temperatures warm. The leaves stayed green until just last week. Then, within hours it seemed, the maples in our yard turned a golden yellow and began losing their leaves.

In the fall, there are certain practices I enjoy such as the participation in the harvest, tasks that care for my home, and the various ways that I engage with my favorite time of year. One of those practices involves washing my windows. After the rain showers of summer and most of the dust of harvest has passed, the windows are spotted and very dirty. Some of them have cobwebs matted in the corners.

The timing is important when washing windows. Just the right day must be chosen that is sunny with a bit of a breeze to help dry the glass, but not so chilly of a wind that my hands get cold from the water. This window-washing day must occur after we’ve had a freeze so that the spiders and many of the bugs are gone. Otherwise all my hard work will need done over again because the cobwebs would reappear.

This past Saturday was just such a day. Temperatures were in the upper 60’s, the sun shone bright, and the golden trees reflected in the clean glass as I worked. The whole job takes about three hours but I stay motivated by the thought of sitting by a sunny, clean window in the winter months and looking through glass that is clear of streaks, dust, and any evidence of insects.

Saturday was also a perfect day for harvest, and my husband, his brother, and nephew were making good use of the warm fall day. When my window project was completed, I went to the farm and rode along with my husband as he drove the combine. I try to get at least one day in the field at some point during the month of October. It brings back good memories of riding with my dad when he harvested corn on the farm where I grew up. The crop is planted in the spring, grows to maturity in the summer, and then dries down during the fall. We watch it through all the stages and then find satisfaction in bringing it in from the fields at harvest time.

A Thanksgiving hymn comes to mind that expresses the waiting, the hoping, and the gratitude:

Now thant we all our God with heart and hands and voices

Who wondrous things has done, in whom His world rejoices;

Who, from our mother’s arms, has blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

Apples are another practice in my habitual fall work. I buy them from a local orchard to make into sauce and filling for pies. My usband and I enjoy a good apple pie in the fall and winter months. A baking pie makes the house smell so delicious and inviting.

Tending the garden and digging the root vegetables, canning the last of the tomatoes and planting tulip bulbs also bring me great joy during this time of year. They are projects I can work on in the evenings during the last light of the day following my working hours in the office. This year has been so warm that even these late hours have been comfortable for working outdoors.

Sunday evenings I enjoy putting together puzzles depicting fall scenes. Two of my favorites are artwork by Charles Wysoki filled with pumpkins, an old mill churning water down a stream, and stone barns. When I get them completed, I hang them up as part of the fall decor in my home.

That is another practice that helps me engage with the autumn season–decorating my home. The bright orange of the pumpkins and the complimenting colors of leaves and Indian corn extend the season indoors. This picture on my mantel is work done by Billy Jacobs. He paints farm scenes in all seasons. I like this one featuring the farmhouse with the weathered barn in the background. I can feel the wind blowing the colored leaves and even imagine the scent of a corn harvest in the breeze.

Fall is a rich season deserving our pause to pay attention, to interact with it, and to celebrate its beauty. I used the word liturgy in the title for this blog because that is how these practices help me. In worship, there are certain things we do to interact with the Lord, to celebrate beauty, and to express gratitude. We can take these patterns beyond the church doors and into our own lives to cultivate a greater awareness of God’s presence in the world and his design for it.

Another hymn comes to mind, so I will quote it here to close:

This is my father’s world and to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me ring the music of the spheres.

This is my father’s world, I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas His hand the wonders wrought.

Devotionals

Drink the Water

“Whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:14

The larger story this verse comes from takes place around a well. John uses this physical well where water is drawn from to show us something really important about Jesus. In the Old Testament, wells provided water as a source of sustenance in the dry desert. They have been places of meeting, and of offering the relief of community and emotional connection. Wells also act as places of rescue for travelers and for animals. The safety of the water felt like an oasis in the desert. It quenched thirst and gave renewed strength.

The Israelite community was familiar with the stories of their patriarchs involving wells. In Abraham’s day, Sarah’s runaway slave girl is met by the angel of the Lord at a well. Later on, Abraham sent his trusted servant on a journey to select a wife for Isaac. He meets Rebekah when she waters his animals with a drink from a well. In the next generation, Jacob is fleeing for his life and arrives at a well where he meets Rachel and waters her flock of sheep. Years later, Moses flees Egypt and arrives at a well in Midian where he meets his future wife and waters the flock of her and her sisters.

Based on these stories, we could make the case that wells were romantic from all the matchmaking done around them. While that may be true, the Bible wants us to see that wells were a place of relationship and community building.

Jesus knew the heritage surrounding wells, so it is no surprise that he would turn up at Jacob’s well at some point during his time on earth. He comes at midday to a small Samaritan village. He knew what would happen, and he knew who he would encounter. John wants us to understand that Jesus is a well himself, of the very things the physical well provided. He is sustenance in the wilderness, a source of deep and satisfying relationship, and the rescuer from desperate thirst. That day in Samaria, he knew a weary traveler along a lifelong road of parched hopes and the fine dust of futile pursuits would come here to draw water. Jesus settles discreetly on the side of the well and waits.

The source of living water has come to the source of the town’s well water, and now this unsuspecting woman will get the chance to draw water from the well she has always longed for. She gets hung up on his ethnicity, his lack of utensil with which to draw water, and the local history that entitled her to use this well. But Jesus invites her into something else completely. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst.”

Living water was water that flowed. It had a source, a direction, and a destination. It was of better quality, purer and clearer, than the stagnant waters of a pond or cistern.

Jesus offers living water that cleanses and frees. He offers to the Samaritan woman a new life. It is one connected with the activity of the Holy Spirit. If she accepted this water and drank from it, this living water would flow within her too. It would be a spring welling up of its own accord from a source beyond her. Always fresh. Always abundant.

Jeremiah describes God as the spring of living water, and John uses a similar phrase in chapter seven when he quotes Jesus. “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whomever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”

To come to Jesus and drink is to believe. To come to Jesus and drink is to long for cleansing. To come to Jesus and drink is to accept the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. Jesus gives the invitation for the thirsty soul to come to him and drink. He is the only one who satisfies our thirst. We don’t have to look anywhere else for the answers to the longings that ache deep inside us. Everyone who drinks the water he gives them will never thirst.

History and Research

History and Research Blog Post #2

Introducing Jacob Grandia and Maria Colyn

The Souvenir History of Pella Iowa 1847-1922 mentions Jacob Grandia on page 146. There is no picture of him, but there is a paragraph describing him. It says, “Jacob Grandia was born in Schravandelen, Province of Gelderland, Netherlands, in 1826. At the youthful age of nineteen, he emigrated to America in the spring of 1847 and was among the very first to arrive in this community. He was a lad with ambition and usefulness. He, with Henry Hospers, assisted the surveyors in platting the town of Pella. He was united in marriage to Miss Marie Colyn, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Leendert Colyn. To this union were born six sons and three girls … Mr. Grandia died in June 1868.”

Early in my marriage, when I was a new resident of Pella, I knew I had ancestors with the Grandia name, but I didn’t have much information on them. I’d purchased a copy of this book to learn more about the Van Zante family, but when I discovered this paragraph about a Grandia with roots in Pella back to its very beginning, I was intrigued. I spent time doing the research until I had his story pieced together.

Jacob and Maria Grandia are my great-grandmother’s grandparents. I know that goes back a little way, but it also forms a strong link down through the generations of my family. My great-grandmother, Adrianna Granda Van Zante, was the daughter of Jacob A. Grandia, and he was the fifth son of Jacob and Maria.

The Souvenir History of Pella claims that Jacob was nineteen when he left Holland for America. In researching his life, I’ve found some discrepancies on his age. This resource lists him in his teen years, genealogy on the Grandia family says he was born in 1822. The ship logs show his age as twenty-four, and his marriage record to Maria, occurring in Pella in February of 1850, says he is twenty-seven. Since the marriage record is the most concrete of any of the sources, I used that age to determine his birth year, and also his age at the time of immigration.

Many people have done diligent work in researching this man’s life, so I certainly do not want to discredit any of those records. However, putting his birthdate in the year 1823 makes him twenty-three at the time he sailed for North America. A hero in his early twenties serves the story well, so since this work is fictional and isn’t necessarily an exhaustive record of a person’s life,  I’m going to keep him at the age of twenty-three.

Genealogy shows his birthday to be September 1, so he will celebrate it and turn twenty-four upon his arrival in Pella.

According to the same genealogy, informed by the Grandia family website (familiegrandia.nl), Jacob was born in ‘s Gravendeel. The spelling of the town given in the Souvenir History of Pella was likely the way the name sounded when it was spoken, so it looks a little different typed out than the actual Dutch spelling does. This little town is near Dordrecht, south of Rotterdam a few miles. This would have located his birth in South Holland and not in Gelderland like the Souvenir History book says. But Dordrecht is very near the line between the three provinces of South Holland, Noord Brabant, and Gelderland.

Fiction writing allows scope for creativity as long as the finished product is plausible. Since the group that immigrated with Scholte was a close-knit community, I am going to have Jacob in friendship with the Van Zante brothers, five of whom sailed for America in the 1850’s. They lived in Gelderland, so approaching the story in this way gives Jacob the connections with the Gelderland folks to say he was “from” there, as history implies, even though he may not have necessarily been born there.

His typical costume would have been long pants, a vest, a striped shirt, and a flat hat, all in dark colors.

Jacob’s father died in May of 1826 when he was three years old. His mother died in 1832 when he was nine, and his brother John, born in 1826, died as a child. Jacob was alone in the world, so he went to live with a lady named Jenneke Reedijk who died in 1846 at the age of seventy-four. Her relationship with Jacob was unknown. She may have been a relative or only a housekeeper.

The last mention of Jacob is on April 3, 1847, when he was officially removed from the civil administration of ‘s Gravendeel. The column titled “left for” says “to North America.” He sailed on the Nagasaki, one of four ships secured by Scholte for the transport of the colony. It made the trip across the Atlantic in thirty-six days, on the route from Rotterdam to Baltimore, Maryland.

Curiously, his name is not listed with the ship’s passengers in the Pella Souvenir History Book, but it is shown in the large volumes of Pella History Books where the ship logs are published. His age is given here as twenty-four and also confirms his presence on this particular ship. He likely traveled in steerage, so may have been a more transient, elusive passenger than an older married man with children who functioned as the head of a household. Jacob is listed on the ship log with other young men who probably all made the journey together.

Jacob Grandia settled in the Pella area and farmed on the border of Lake Prairie Township and Black Oak Township.

Maria Colyn

Maria’s story is more subdued than Jacob’s. She is mentioned only in the list of passengers on the ship Pieter Floris that sailed from Amsterdam to Baltimore. Her trip to America took quite a bit longer, requiring two full months at sea until reaching their destination.

She was born in 1826 in the province of Noord Brabant. Her father likely farmed since the majority of the people who came to Iowa with Scholte were farmers. At the time of immigration, Maria was a twenty-one-year-old unmarried woman. She traveled with a cluster of family members, including her father, Leendert, and her mother. The ship log only gives her the initial L., so I invented a name for her and will call her Lana in the book. There were also two brothers and one sister, all in their teen years.

From her mother’s side of the family came J.W. de Moor, his wife, and his school-aged daughter. From her father’s side of the family came Huibert Colyn, and his four-month-old daughter Alberta Jacoba. It’s easy to assume Huibert lost his wife in childbirth, so I am going to use that theme as part of the overall plot of the story.

The Colyns and de Moors all survived the trip and reunite with the other Dutch travelers in St. Louis. There, they are given a bit of a respite from travel while the Land Committee starts its exploration to Iowa in search of farm ground to purchase. Maria and her family, along with Jacob and many other friends, join in worship services at a Presbyterian church they are allowed to use during their time in the city.

Maria, her mother, and the other Noord Brabant women would have made quite the impression on the Americans dressed in their dark Dutch dresses and the lacy headgear known as poffers.

Maria’s brother, Jacob Colyn, is mentioned in The History of Marion County as a farmer and stock raiser. He was born in 1829 on the line between North and South Holland. He spent his boyhood days on his father’s farm and attending school.

This brief summary of her brother provides clues to Maria’s origins and childhood as well. She and Jacob Grandia are among the first couples to marry in the new world, and then they settled on a farm and raised a family.

A quick note to end this blog post relates to the sources I quoted here. Blog Post #1 mentions all of the books I used to research for this project, so I will refer the reader to that article instead of formally citing them here. I will draw on those sources many times going forward, so will continue to encourage my readers to refer back to my first blog post to learn more about the sources I relied on to gather my information.

The photographs in this blog post are taken from Dutch Costumes, a Look into the Past, by Jacki Craver, and Phyllis Zylstra. Photography by Desha Bruxvoort. Printed in Pella in 2007.