Denise Day Spencer

Monday evening I went with a group of friends to see a passion play at a church in a nearby town. They did a wonderful job, and it was quite moving. As the Roman soldiers drove the spikes into Jesus’ feet and wrists and lifted the cross into place, my only thought was a truth I’ve known all my life that still at times seems utterly surreal.

God sent us His Son and we crucified Him.

Lord, have mercy on us all. Agnus Dei, qui tolis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Today we celebrate Palm Sunday.

I’ve seen the scene acted out in plays and films. Jesus, meek and mild, riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. People everywhere, lining the streets to shout “Hosanna!” and honor him as king. You’ve probably seen it, too. Think back. In the scenes you’ve watched, was he smiling? Read the rest of this entry »

Happy birthday to me!!!

Yes, today’s my special day. That’s how I choose to think of it, and on my birthday I make it a point to feel special all day. I’m nice to myself, and I revel in other people’s niceness to me.

So far today… Read the rest of this entry »

This is not quite intended to be a commercial, but it may seem that way. I’m going to talk about chiropractic care.

Are you still there?

All of my life I had never given a thought to chiropractors or what they did, probably because I didn’t know what they did. I never thought they were quacks or witch doctors; I just never knew anything about them at all–until I finally had to. Read the rest of this entry »

Two weeks ago I got a much-earned but completely unplanned rest. I got sick. Sicker than I'd been in a while.

It all started a year ago. Our pressman left the OBI print shop, and we've been working short-handed ever since. Tamara and I had been on our own before, but never for a whole year, and never in the spring. You see, spring is our busiest time at the print shop. But somehow we made it. We buckled down, rolled up our sleeves, pitched in, put our noses to the grindstone and all the other appropriate cliches you can think of. We're a good team, and by the grace of God (and a few extra hours) we published our newsletters and hammered together our plaques and we got the job done.

Then we both collapsed.

Read the rest of this entry »

A couple of nights ago, Michael, Clay and I went to the theater to see “End of the Spear.” When we came out and got into the car, I was the first one to speak. “Well,” I said. “I’m angry.” Read the rest of this entry »

The Bible never ceases to amaze me.

I’ve been a Christian for 38 years, and I’ve learned that there’s no end to the treasures God’s word holds. Sometimes it seems as if there are layers and layers of truth in the same passage. A verse or paragraph may mean one thing to me at one point in my life and then take on an even deeper meaning as I grow and mature. Sometimes this is due to one or both of two things: translations and context. Read the rest of this entry »

On New Year’s Day, Michael preached a wonderful message to our tiny congregation. I just wish more people had been there to hear it. (We only had seven of our usual 12-15 . . . but then, who’s counting?)

His text was I Corinthians 9:24-27. In verse 26b Paul says, “I do not fight like a man beating the air.” (NIV) Michael explained that this means we should not act as if we have no enemy, and he concluded that our enemy is ourselves.

I agree on both counts. So often my sin, my desires, my self-centeredness are my own worst enemies. Although I still need frequent reminders of my own fallenness, it is easier for me to think in these terms than in terms of spiritual warfare–not that the two are mutually exclusive, by any means! I’ve never been into blaming all sin on demonic forces. Usually I think we need to be brought fact-to-face again and again with the sin that lurks within us, the potential we all have to live for ourselves even when we belong to Christ.

However, sometimes I need to be reminded that there is another enemy as well. I affectionately call my tempter “Slubgub” (not to be confused with the “Slubgob” of C. S. Lewis’ chapter 18 of “The Screwtape Letters,” although I think they may be distant cousins . . .) Every now and then when I know I’m being disobedient or just plain mean, it helps me to ask what Slubgub might be trying to accomplish in my life just then. And the funny thing is that almost as soon as I have that thought, I feel and/or act better. Screwtape told Wormwood, “Our policy, for the moment, is to conceal ourselves.” It’s as though the moment he is no longer under the cover of darkness, Slubgub admits defeat and slinks off . . . for the time being, anyway.