Dr. Leila Denmark Celebrates 111 years of life!

Happy 111th Birthday, Dr. Denmark!
(click on title above to access link to a book of Dr. D's advice)

(*see photo credit information below)

Part I

When Dr. Leila Alice Daughtry-Denmark was a girl, growing up in the little town of Portal near the coast of Georgia, she never dreamed she would become a pediatrician. She went to Tift College to become a teacher, but told me she always really wanted to be a hat-maker and took classes to learn how. When the first world war broke out the young men who were her friends left, (including the one who would become her husband later for almost seventy years, John Eustace Denmark, sent to Java, Indonesia with the State Department), she decided to go to the Medical College of Georgia, becoming the only woman in the graduating class of 1928. Maybe she could help the sick and injured regain a life after such a terrible war? One of her prize possessions was a tablecloth she showed me spread out on the table at her 60th wedding anniversary celebration. It's a patchwork of small silk squares intended to be used as parachutes to drop small bombs all over America during that war. Somehow she had come into possession of them and made a tablecloth from them. "Think of it," she said with shining eyes, "those tiny squares that were meant to bring destruction to hundreds of Americans are now on the table of a home that promotes health and life!"

Dr. Denmark was the pediatrician for all four of my children. And we are far from alone! I continue to meet people whose mothers, children and now grandchildren had gone to her for advice and medical help--three or sometimes four generations of families served by this woman who raised her daughter, Mary, at her feet as she helped other mothers learn what their priorities should be. She broke many of the modern feminist's rules for the "emmancipated" woman. She practiced medicine from her home because she longed to help women learn how to care for their own children and never encouraged mothers to leave their children to get a job. She loves to say, "I never worked a day in my life. If you do what you love, it isn't work." Her husband was a vice-president of a large financial institution in Atlanta throughout his long career. She didn't practice medicine because she felt she needed an outlet or that she had to affirm herself as a person or to add to the family income. She never charged ministers or missionaries one penney. She only asked that they pay her cost for any medicine or vaccine she administered, usually $5.00. She said, "I want to encourage those who are doing God's work." She didn't have a receptionist, nurse or associate. She answered her own phone--sometimes the wait would be long as the caller listened to babies crying and Dr. Denmark's calm, assertive but husky voice giving instructions or chirping softly as she looked at a tiny ear, "Listen, can you hear the little bird?" she would croon.

No appointments were necessary with Dr. Denmark. Bring your child, sign the book in the waiting room and wait...sometimes for hours if there were lots of sick children to see. Then finally, it was your turn. Dr. Denmark's head--the wisps of gray hair settling around it like a halo --would appear at the door. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, "Now who's my next little angel?"

(*photo of Dr. Denmark and Mary taken in 1936, photo credit information below)

"Dr. D.", as she is still called by her patients and their parents, made medical history for her part in the development of the pertussis vaccine. She told me she had personally witnessed the deaths of over 75 children in one year due to whopping cough and was determined, with God's help, to try to prevent this. (Ironically, our son, John, whose photo is posted below with Dr. D., caught whopping cough from the vaccine administered to him at five months of age. Dr. D. called me, day and night, for three weeks, every day, to check on his progress--it was a horrifying time which God graciously brought us through, largely due to Dr. D.'s valuable advice and assistance.) She held a 'free baby clinic' every Thursday for over fifty years at a large Presbyterian church in down-town Atlanta where thousands of children were treated, free of charge. "Every child Should Have A Chance to be all that he or she can be," was her slogan. She poured her life into making this phrase take on real meaning and wrote a book by this title full of her advice. A photograph (posted below) of Dr. D. with our son John, sitting on her examination table was the picture on the back cover of her book for years. Although the book is currently out of print, you may be able to purchase one from Dr. Denmark's daughter, Mary (Mrs. Grady) Hutcherson, who resides in Athens, GA.

(photo credit, Betty Wolfe, 1978)

We often asked if we could help out around the clinic--maybe answer the phone for her while she saw patients? "Mrs. Morecraft," she replied once to this query, "when you call me, to whom do you wish to speak and when do you wish to speak to her?" 'Nuff said. Instead, I prayed for her and sent her scores of new patients through the 30 years that I knew her.

Despite living through two world wars, witnessing suffragettes put on tent shows to promote the vote for women in her South Georgia hometown, and seeing the age of the horse and buggy transform into a high-tech world of high anxiety, Denmark said the most significant change in her lifetime has been parents giving up responsibility for their children. It's her pet peeve. "Children are not getting parental guidance, and it's wrecking this nation. Parenting has gone out of style," she said. She said she always had her office in her home so she could keep an eye on Mary... "Parents pursue materialistic goals -- new cars, bigger houses -- to the neglect of their children." She advises against putting children in day care, where she thinks kids are deprived of attention and catch illnesses. "Day care supports the pediatricians in the country." she said with a laugh. "Without it, we'd starve." --from July 24, 1998, article appearing in The Atlanta Business Chronicle, by contributing writer Barbara Keenlyside

What else sets Dr. Denmark apart from other pediatricians besides her refusal to leave her own child with another caregiver to practice medicine? For one thing, she says babies should sleep on their tummies. She scoffs at the 'new' practice of putting them on their backs. But what about SIDS and suffocating on spit-up? Nonesense, she says. Put four towels with a sheet stretched across them (I always used two thick towels) to absorb any spit-up and let the little baby develop his/her neck muscles as she turns her head. She says the digestive system works better on the stomach and that this position affords many other benefits. She believes in scheduling feedings for infants as well as scheduling meals in adulthood--wait at least five hours between meals to allow your food time to digest so that undigested food isn't moved into the gut with the digested food. But what if baby cries between feedings? "That's his privilege," she smiles. "Make sure he's alright and let him develop his lungs a little." She reiterated over and over to young parents, "Your baby has come to live with you and must adjust to your needs, not the other way round. If you live helter-skelter, any which way, with no order in your life, letting your baby set the house rules, you will all be miserable!" Dr. Denmark emphasized the value of human life and loved children as the bulletin board set up in her lobby displaying literally hundreds of notes and photos from her patients attested to. "All your life, your baby will need you--do it right from the start," she says,"and he will always know he can count on you."

She loved to talk about her own homelife. "I was the third oldest child in my family," she would smile, her eyes sparkling with the memories. "My mother didn't like children much--she only had 12." Then the husky laugh, "Mother always knew what to do if one of us was sick. But occasionally she would call the doctor if she thought she needed his advice. When he arrived, he'd say, 'Alice, what do you think is wrong and what do you think we should do?'" Her laugh was warm with the memory. "Most of the time, he'd follow mother's advice and all was well." She greatly admired her mother and father who both died in middle age.

(*photo credits for the two photos in the opening of this article, the one of a young mother, Leila, and her young daughter, Mary, as well as the photo later below of Dr. D. and her brother on the golf course, from an article published in Georgia Magazine, August, 2002, written by Victoria Scharf Decastro)

Part II

(photo credit, from an online article written for the National Library of Medicine, entitled, Changing the Face of Medicine: Celebrating America's Physicians)

Dr. Leila Denmark

Sugar is anathama to Dr. D. "I started developing arthritis in my mid-thirties and by age 50," Dr. Denmark told me once, "I suspected sugar was the culprit so I cut it out. Haven't had a twinge of arthritis since then," (she was about 80 at that time). In fact, she refused to eat the birthday cake presented to her for her 100th birthday because there was too much sugar in it! Dr. Denmark has all her own teeth. She wears the same clothes she made for herself when she was in her twenties. When the property she and her husband had lived on for over fifty years sold in the late 80's due to an agreement they had made with a purchaser many years prior to the date (they assumed they'd be gone to glory by then), Dr. and Mr. Denmark moved their possessions, lock, stock and barrel, to Cumming, where they had bought some land many years before. It had a nice lake and they would often go walking and fishing there for recreation. They hired an architect to design an exact replica of the home they had vacated at the corner of Glenridge and Johnson's Ferry Roads in Sandy Springs and rebuilt on that Cumming property.

The Denmark home in Cumming

The original house was almost immediately torn down and offices now occupy the space. Dr. D. wanted to put all her furniture, rugs, pictures and the curtains she had made sixty years or more before in the exact spots and thus had the replicated home built. Her new office--an old slave cabin on the Cumming property--was rennovated by her 6' 7" tall grandson, (a remarkable height for offspring coming from his Denmark grandparents since Dr. D. was about five feet tall and her husband around 5' 6"!)

Dr. Denmark's office next door to her home in Cumming, GA

Dr. Denmark believes that pasturized cow's milk is akin to poison. She encourages mother's milk until eight months of age and then, having introduced food at around three months, three big meals a day with a mashed banana as the common ingredient in each pureed meal. Not only is this fruit of choice full of minerals, it's sweet and makes those green beans and pureed beef go down more easily. She swears she did the research and that cow's milk actually destroys red blood cells. That's what she preaches and who am I to argue? A mere no-nothing mother...So, my grown children--all in their thirties--drank virtually no cow's milk growing up. They have (almost) perfect teeth, healthy bones and pretty amazing good looks if I do say so myself! Instead of 'fun foods', they ate three hearty meals a day of very healthy food, mostly farm-fresh vegetables, particularly black-eyed peas, (high on Dr. Denmark's list of good food--she says that's what Daniel ate instead of the king's rich food in the Bible), eggs, whole grains, a little red meat, fish or chicken and whatever fruit was in season. They drank clean water, ran around outside in all weather, climbed trees, helped feed the chickens and worked in the garden, were read to often, loved by parents and grandparents, were taught the scriptures, were praised more than spanked but were spanked when necessary (some days, a lot), played hard, slept well and grew up happy and healthy. Our boys were taught to always show respect, especially to ladies and remove their hats as soon as they entered the house. Our girls were taught to work as hard as boys, who were also taught that work is a virtue, not an option, and were expected to act like ladies always, even when being "tomboys."

The four rules of the Morecraft house were easy to remember if not always obeyed perfectly:

1)Obey

2)obey quickly

3)obey cheerfully

4)"Whatever you do, do it with all your might, as to the Lord."

Three of our children in the photo above in 2007. Below, Joey and his wife, Jennifer, (not present for above photo), in 2008

Dr. D. believes in certain vaccinations but started them later than is common today and didn't give multiple vaccines at the same time. (I think a case could be made that she would question the wisdom of many of the newer vaccines but that's another subject and only an opinion.) Her greatest contribution to three generations of mothers was to urge them to stay at home with their children. "Why do you want to go off to work and take orders from some other man?" she would say to each mother who entered her office. "Stay home and make your husband happy--cook him three healthy, hearty meals a day, raise happy, healthy children and God will smile on you."

Although Dr. D. advised eating three healthy meals a day, she ate very little most of her life, starting the day with a cup of hot water (she never drinks any other drink than water), figs preserved in honey when she had them or a banana, eggs and a piece of toast. She rarely took the time to eat lunch but had whatever she wanted for dinner (minus the sugar and milk, of course) and told us she usually only slept about five hours a night. Once when my husband had caught some nice little fish from her lake, he offered to prepare some for her dinner. "How would you like me to prepare them?" he asked her, expecting to hear her say broiled or baked. "How 'bout frying them up in a little lard," she smiled.

She loved to play golf with her husband. They tried to get away to the Canadian Rockies or White Sulphur Springs when they could to hike and golf. She loved to tell about the time she was hiking around her lake in Cumming. "All of a sudden," she laughed her husky laugh, "I spied a big, ol' copperhead coiled up beside the path. Well, sir, I don't like to kill things--I mean, after all, he was there before I was, so I guess he kind of had squatter's rights. But I started thinking, might someone come along that would be bit by that fella and that could be really bad." Her eyes twinkled. "Now I had just recovered from breaking both my wrists a few days earlier--I slipped on something when I was going out to feed the birds on my patio out back several weeks before and broke both wrists. They had just come out of the casts when I saw that snake. But I real carefully picked up a pine limb that had a knot in the end kinda like a golf club. I aimed at his head and swung and, well...(laughing)...that ol' boy's not ever gonna hurt anybody..."

(photo of Dr. Denmark and her brother playing golf. In one of the last rounds she played while in her 80's, Dr. Denmark sank a 26-foot putt!)

(*photo credit info listed above)

Dr. D. had to quit her practice at age 103 because of macular degeration of her eyes that couldn't be corrected -- she is legally blind. Still willing to talk to parents by phone from her daughter's house where she lives now, this determined, Christian woman who urges women to keep the best job in the world and stay at home with their children, raising them to be strong, productive, courageous adults, is one of my heroines.

Thank you for teaching us to be committed mothers and wives and for helping me raise four strong children who are leading godly, productive, joyful lives, due in large part, to your example and advice. Thank you, for helping me and thousands of others raise the next several generations of Christian leaders and mothers!

Happy birthday, Dr. D.

[For more Denmark advice on baby and child rearing, look online or in your local stores for Madia Bowman's book, Dr. Denmark Said It! http://www.drdenmarksaidit.com/ ]

Her children rise up and bless her; her husband also, and he praises her, saying: 'Many daughters have done nobly, but you excel them all.' Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates. --Prov. 31:28-31

(photo of John Morecraft, age 14 months, taken with Dr. D. in 1978)
(photo of John and Kim Morecraft and their children, Asa and Izalou, 2008.)

Joy at Home

(a poem written in honor of Dr. Leila Denmark when Mercy was four months old)

The far horizon beckons me

to distant shores unknown,

but I must firmly turn away

and find my joy at home.

Such joys there are, though simple ones--

there's joy in baby's smiles

that bring contentment to my heart

far more than wordly wiles.

And when she's sad, we all are sad;

and when she frowns, we sigh.

Our ears are tuned and listening out

to hear her slightest cry.

Yes, I've found much adventure

as distant lands I've roamed,

but contentment deep and rich

are mine as I find joy at home.

--Becky Morecraft

March 7, 1991

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Light on the Horizon

Today I sat in my own church in Cumming, GA, for the first time in many weeks due mainly to Joe's surgery and subsequent rehab process, grateful to God for His mercy. My dear husband sat in a wheelchair behind the 'semi-pulpit,' not the one he can thump on when he gets excited, but a sort of wrap-around wooden guardpost of sorts. The real pulpit, one that has a history that goes back over 30 years, was to his right--strange, it almost looked like a divided chancelry, something we think unbiblical! Anyway, he preached a magnificent sermon from Psalm 36, a sermon of encouragement and conviction for our lack of faith in a Sovereign God Who does all things well. How can you sit there and preach that kind of thing when you have experienced so much pain, I thought? How can you preach that a goodGod is in charge and has a purpose for all He does when you see sitting before you grandparents whose beautiful, vibrant 19 year old granddaughter and her precious boyfriend were so tragically killed a few weeks ago? When the beautiful young woman clutching her three-year old to her on the front row just lost her loving mother to horrendous cancer? When the lovely lady behind her will have a third of her lung removed from cancer on Thursday? When we face several years of liberal political diatribes and policies that will seek to strip us of our hard-won liberties, hard-earned money and put an end to Biblical policies and standards for governing? How can you say that God is good when the world is going to hell in a handbasket???

Then I realized with a settled solemnity that was almost audible: you can preach nothing else because what you preach is the truth! God IS on His throne--He will have the last laugh! Thank God we don't get our doctrine from the newspaper but from His Word which has never failed from age to age!

"For with Thee is the fountain of life; in Thy light we see light. O continue Thy lovingkindness to those who know Thee, and Thy righteousness to the upright in heart. Let not the foot of pride come upon me and let not the hand of the wicked drive me away. There the doers of iniquity have fallen; they have been thrust down and cannot rise." Psalm 36:10-12

Did somebody say, Amen?

Doug's Blog

I'm posting a link to Doug's Blog today, the first day of January, 2009. Doug Phillips entitled his blog today, "The Three Most Important Things You Can Do as You Begin 2009." Please read these wise words from our dear friend and brother.

"Dear Diary..."

When I was nine years old, my mother gave me a special little leatherette book. It was burgundy and came with its own pen and, most significantly, a lock and key! I could write down all my secret thoughts--what I really thought about people and events, not just the polite reactions that were expected of me. I could write down wishes, dreams and prayers and, days or years later, go back and see which ones had been answered and which had not been. Usually the unfulfilled wishes were the best gifts since I didn't always display wisdom in my wishing.

Now I have a blog. I can write down my thoughts, air my grievances, and unabashedly post my opinions, opinions which may later make me blush when I'm smacked up against my ignorance or wrong-headedness -- sort of like realizing you've been walking around with your skirt caught up in the back or a big piece of spinach caught in your teeth. Not too impressive... I've always loved the prayer, "Lord, make my words tender and sweet for tomorrow I may have to eat them." Sound advice. A scriptural admonition comes to mind: "...let everyone be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God," James 1:19.

Nevertheless, that innate desire to communicate my thoughts in black and white continues, now expanded beyond the pages of an adolescent diary into cyberspace. But I'm no longer content just to write down my thoughts. I love to carry on conversations with folks, many I know and some I may never meet. I never believed Simon and Garfunkel when they sang, I am a rock; I am an island... I have no need of friendship for friendship causes pain: I touch no one and no one touches me. Instead, I think I'm more in tune with whoever sang, Words are all I have to give my heart away...

John describes Jesus as The Word made flesh Who 'manifested' or made plain the Father to a world that largely rejected Him and His message. God calls us His 'workmanship' or literally, His 'poem.' Our words as His redeemed people must be salt and light to a watching, listening, hurting world. In fact, Scripture even goes so far as to say that, 'by your words are you justified and by your words you are condemned.' A very mysterious passage to me but one that reminds us that we should choose our words carefully, even when we're playing around and having fun or mad or sad.

Before I speak, either audibly or in print, I must think: are my words sanctifying and edifying? Am I so marinated in Scripture that the more mature I become, the more my language begins to sound like the language of Heaven in opposition to the careless, graceless language of a condemned world? Is it easier for me to use coarse language than Biblical language? Ephesians 4:29 instructs me to "let no unwholesome words proceed from [my] mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, that it may give grace to those who hear." Are our words filling the need of the moment, bestowing grace on our listeners? These are important and serious markers for us to gauge our growth in grace and our usefulness as instruments of truth and peace so needed in the body life of Christ's beloved bride, the church.

Thanks for taking time to read my open 'diary.' I hope that in my words The Word will be honored and glorified and that you will take away a little encouragement, a little humor, some pathos and a lot of love. "Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer." --Psalm 19:14

Grace and peace be unto you...

Thanks be to God...

Thirty-nine years ago, I was twenty years old. I had survived the '60's, virtually unscathed,(not really, as I still attempt to re-educate myself) despite attending a public high school and a liberal liberal-arts college for women in Atlanta and on to another one in Bristol, TN. My parents and grandparents, aunt and other near relations were all public school teachers. Back then, that's all there was, especially in the mountains of Virginia, my home. God graced me with, not only devout Christian parents, but a community and school that honored God. But the greatest blessing of all was the young man who came to be my grandfather's summer assistant in the tiny Presbyterian church in 1965 where Grandpa had pastored since his conversion by a "home" missionary, Thomas Mowbray. He was a South Carolinian with a wooden leg and a heart for God who had led my grandparents to the Lord many years before. Grandpa left the teaching profession, took seminary classes and was ordained to the Gospel ministry under what was called the 'extraordinary clause'. Joe was attending King College in Bristol, TN, at the time a rising junior, when he came to help my Grandpa that summer. That was 43 years ago,if my math and memory serve me right.

I'd never known anyone like him. He was broad shouldered, lanky and tall--almost 6' 5"--and had the manner of another Billy Graham when he preached. His flashing blue eyes could pierce to the core of your being and his booming voice captivated the congregation and his intense love for Christ and desire that all men come to know Him captured my heart. We spent the whole summer together teaching unchurched children in Bible schools--we held sixteen to be exact--all over the beautiful wild mountains of my home in southwestern Virginia. Never had I met anyone who could draw men, women, boys and girls to Jesus like this young man and still have a great sense of humor, a combination of reserve and friendliness that intrigued me, a love of good music, history and storytelling that drew me in... I never wanted to be apart from him.

The rest of our love story will have to wait for the film or historical novel version perhaps. I wanted to take note that tomorrow, November 27th, 2008, is our 39th wedding anniversary! We were married on November 27th, Thanksgiving Day. This year we will spend our anniversary, not with our children and grandchildren, a custom we always anticipate with much joy from year to year in the past and will in the future as well, with God's blessing. But this year the two of us will give thanks for all our blessings and celebrate our devotion and commitment to each other in the hospital in Macon, GA, where Joe will rest for one more day before beginning a grueling re-hab program after knee replacement surgery two days ago. He will learn to walk and do many other things he has almost lost with terrible arthritic pain for several years. We look forward now, with God's blessings, to him regaining use of his limbs and with that a happier, healthier life.

I know that if I must experience traumatic health experiences in the future, he will be there for me, even as he has been in the past. I sit with him today, not wishing we could be somewhere else, but thankful that God is with us where we are. That's what marriage is about: not just wine and roses, laughter and arguments and kissing and making up--that's a big part of it. Marriage is about the journey together, being two who grow more and more into one flesh--struggling together, celebrating life, weeping over losses, hurting and healing together. Married life is hard sometimes, but it's beautiful, too. I wouldn't want to spend my anniversary doing anything else than being with my husband, looking into his eyes and finding a stronger love than I've ever known.

I love you, Joe. More than ever you are my best friend, my mentor, my lover, my hero. Happy anniversary, honey. Next year, let's dance!

Post-Election Anti-Depression Recipe

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
to the last syllable of recorded time;
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death.
Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more:
it is a tale told by an idiot,
full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing...
-- Shakespeare, Macbeth, V.v.
(photo of Bothwell Castle, Scotland)

One week ago today, we anticipated election day. Maybe 'anticipated' is the wrong word. When I use that word, I'm normally thinking of something enjoyable like a birthday party, vacation or Christmas. Now Election Day, 2008 has passed. The much anticipated day has come and gone as indeed all things mortal and finite do. They pass away, become history or are simply forgotten.

Thou dost turn man back into dust, and dost say, 'Return, O children of men.' For a thousand years in Thy sight are like yesterday when it passes by, or as a watch in the night. Thou has swept them away like a flood, they fall asleep; in the morning they are like grass which sprouts anew...
(photo of wildflowers growing in Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh, Scotland)

In the morning it flourishes and sprouts anew; toward evening it fades and withers away...For all our days have declined in Thy fury; we have finished our years like a sigh. As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, or if due to strength, eighty years, yet their pride is but labor and sorrow; for soon it is gone and we fly away...So teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom. --Psalm 90:3-6,10-12

O Lord, what is man that Thou dost take knowledge of him? Or the son of man that Thou dost think of him? Man is like a mere breath; his days are like a passing shadow. --Psalm 144:3,4

(Becky, dreaming as the shadows fall in St. Andrews Cathedral ruins, Scotland, June, 2008)

Minutes and seconds slide into hours and days which quickly mount up on wings like eagles and glide into weeks and months, insistently flying over the horizon into years, heedless of our attempts to call them back. The years drift on, like silent snow, piling up against our windows as we dream, unaware that decades have suddenly written themselves without our cognizance while we busily bustled about, unsuspecting, like children who fall asleep in the car and awaken, snug in bed.

Like sand pouring through the proverbial hour-glass, years crowd into centuries; and, before you can turn around twice, one millenia nudges its way against the second. They push together, surging into the third, then, at break-neck speed, the fourth one skids into line...time is relentless in its onward march. No space left to catch a deep breath...[my photo of ancient monoliths erected in a field in Kilmartin Valley, perhaps earlier than the 9th century, in Scotland]


(painting of The Venerable Bede translating the book of John, by J. D. Penrose, 1902, source, Wikipedia)

The Venerable Bede (A.D. 673-735) wrote to his Anglo-Saxon king:
The present life of man, O king, seems to me, in comparison of that time which is unknown to us, like to the flight of a sparrow through the room wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail abroad; the sparrow, I say, flying in at one door, and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry storm; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant."
--[from Ecclesiastical History of the English People (731 A.D.) II.xiii.]

Thanks be to God, we know without the least shadow of doubt from whence we have come and where we are going. How unnecessary for the Christian to live in such despair--we are not as sparrows flitting through a warm room into a shroud of blackness. If this picture of life is valid, should we not live for today, warming ourselves as long as we can by the fire, draining the cup of pleasure to the dregs? The non-Christian world lives by this standard. As blood-bought children of God, ransomed from the world, we have been given a different perspective.

We choose to live opposed to the base standards and God-less philosophies of our polluted world. We choose the perception of eternity in our souls that elevates our existence to noble, joyful heights. So many around us agree with John Gay, an early 19th century British playwright, who wrote this epitaph for himself: "Life is a jest, and all things show it, I thought so once, and now I know it." We must realize at the onset that our enemies are not at all as fierce as they seem. In fact, the Bible informs us that their lives are built on shifting sand and will be swept away by the first real storm that falls. Devise a plan to defeat your tendency to fear these straw men and to throttle your tendency towards fear and anxiety.

We must oppose the straw men of our day by, first, refusing to be shaped by current events and the media. Rather, become a serious student of the Bible, its teachings and history and the history of the world, ancient and modern. Immerse yourself, as much as possible, in learning good theology and REAL history. Not edited, revised and supplemented fables fabricated for public school textbooks, much of the history and discovery channel offerings and most ivy league colleges and universities. Go to original sources or those who used them to write their books -- grasp the macro-concepts of each period of history and then put flesh on the bare bones by reading the biographies and autobiographies of each era. Develop a clear and deep understanding of God's Word as well as a solid, bedrock perspective about history and the people and events that make it and you will find yourself better able to correctly interpret current events.

Second, know where you fit into the picture in your moment in history. Our very existence is defined, not by what someone else says about it but by the knowledge that God had a reason for your birth. He knows everything about you and me because He planned for each of us to be here--at this specific point in time and space, and He fills each life with a dynamic sense of meaning as we find our meaning in Him. Macbeth*[see quote above] was wrong. A Christian should never feel that he is "a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage...full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." You are significant because God wants you here to find your rest in Him and to do all His holy will from a grateful heart. Once you've discovered your raison d'etre, passionately devote yourself to living it, every day, with every fiber of your being and every moment of time you are given. Calvin said that truly knowing yourself and God are the necessary ingredients for living a satisfying life. (Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion, I,i.ii.)

Third, (or perhaps first in order of importance), believe in the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation and you will never die--you will continue to live beyond the grave. Our bodies will grow weary and sick, although some are taken even before the aging process begins to show; but YOU, your resurrected body and soul, will never, ever, ever die! I find that truth more than comforting. Purpose infuses my days, months and years as I realize that I was created on purpose by the Sovereign God of the universe, the One Who alone keeps the planets from crashing into the sun, Who sustains all that He has created until its appointed time to die, Who has never failed in one promise He ever made, Who has revealed Himself and His holy will in His law/word in the Scriptures and through His only Son, Who daily prays for me and empowers me, by the Holy Spirit Who indwells me, to live and move and have my being in Him.

Hallelujah! Praise Jehovah!
Oh, my soul, Jehovah praise.
I will sing the glorious praises
of my God through all my days.
Put no confidence in princes,
nor for help on man depend.
He shall die, to dust returning,
and his purposes shall end.

Happy is the man that chooses
Israel's God to be his aid.
He is blessed whose hope of blessing
on the Lord his God is stayed.
Heav'n and earth the Lord created,
seas and all that they contain.
He delivers from oppression,
righteousness He will maintain.
--Psalm 146, 1912 Psalter

One week has passed since election day, 2008. Four (or more years) of formidable socialistic, pluralistic, anti-Christian, pro-abortion, pro-homosexual, pro-'everything I'm opposed to' politics seems probable from this vantage point. I cannot change the election results. I tried as best I could to influence anyone who would listen prior to the election. So what now? I could easily choose depression, anxiety and fear as the motivating factors for my attitude and decisions in the days ahead, but to do so would demonstrate a pitiable lack of faith in God's promises.

My reaction as a Christian may only be informed by God's Word. Despite alarming headlines, I must remind myself daily to remember what I know is true: God is still on His throne, therefore, nothing essential has changed in God's universe! I need not live as a sparrow flitting through a warm room to the unknown darkness beyond it. I know something neither the sparrow nor unregenerate man can know--God reigns! Therefore, I will continue to walk down the path the Lord has clearly marked for my life until He welcomes me home, knowing without a doubt that, though trials may lie ahead, "God casues all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose," Romans 8:28. While I remain here, I will endeavor to trust Him, the all-wise Sovereign and Lord of my heart Who is the God of history. My confidence will not rest in princes nor will I fear what they can do to me. My hope rests in the knowledge of His providential care Who does all things well.

This is my recipe for post-election depression: By His grace and in His strength alone, I will nourish my hungry heart on His delicious and satisfying word; I will pray on my face before Him, begging for mercy and cleansing for myself, my dear ones, His bride the church and our poor, deceived nation. I will exercise my faith by working with all my heart in my callings "as unto the Lord." I will worship on His holy hill each Lord's day, drawing comfort and strength as I commune with Him around His table and in fellowship with His people. Finding His mercies new and fresh every morning, I will sing His praises so loudly that the din and confusion of the world will simply fade away to a dull, boring roar, like the droning of a wasp caught in a jar and fear and depression will slink away into the darkness where they belong.

I believe that God is stronger than any double-minded politician. I believe that Good will triumph over evil. I believe that Truth will win over falsehood. The world will be changed in my life-time and in the years to come as it has been in years past, not through the machinations of men and political activists, but through the blessings and curses of a mighty Warrior Who strides over His defeated enemies, the sword of His Word prevailing now as it always has throughout the centuries. Enlist in His army and know that, regardless of election results, sin and even death, the victory has already been won. Praise be to God!

"In peace I will both lie down and sleep, For Thou alone, O LORD, dost make me to dwell in safety." --Psalm 4:8