Remembering and Jane Austen

Proverbs 10:7

“The memory of the righteous is a blessing.” 

In Memory of
JANE AUSTEN
youngest daughter of the late
Revd GEORGE AUSTEN
formerly Rector of Steventon in this County
She departed this Life on the 18th of July 1817,
aged 41, after a long illness supported with
the patience and the hopes of a Christian.

The benevolence of her heart,
the sweetness of her temper, and
the extraordinary endowments of her mind
obtained the regard of all who knew her and
the warmest love of her intimate connections.

Their grief is in proportion to their affection,
they know their loss to be irreparable,
but in their deepest affliction they are consoled
by a firm though humble hope that her charity,
devotion, faith and purity have rendered
her soul acceptable in the sight of her
REDEEMER

  

We are acutely aware of death during this COVID19 crisis.  The numbers of the dead and sick are quoted on the news every day, morning and night.  One New York Times article actually named the dead.  It becomes more real when we put a name to the numbers.  These people should be remembered and not just because they had the Corona Virus. With a tragedy of this proportion its easy to forget the people and only remember the disease.

   Jane Austen was one of the most brilliant novelists in the English language. Almost two-hundred and three years after her death, her stories exploring human nature and love still bring joy to her many readers, including me.  While she receives many accolades now and her work is throughly enjoyed and studied, during her lifetime she received only a small measure of notoriety and minimal monetary success.  

   As a fan of Jane Austen for many years, I vividly remember reading her work for the first time in my teen years. Her humor and ability to express the human spirit lassoed me in to her Regency era world as a lifetime admirer. I’ve read and reread her works more times than I can count.  When adaptions of her work began to hit the small and big screens, I was eager to watch and rewatch.  

   But I admit that it wasn’t until later in my life that I began researching the personal life and early death of Jane Austen.  The world remembers her work more than the woman herself.  When I read the epitaph -quoted above- for the first time, I was stunned that her writing career was not included. I mean she is Jane Austen!  But as I’ve grown older I’ve gained an understanding regarding her remembrance.  

   When I am gone, I’m vain enough to hope I’ll be remembered by those I love. Being a singer, photographer, and writer are wonderful gifts I have enjoyed, but they are not who I am.  They are just things I’ve done. I long to be remembered for who I am. I am a child of the Most High God, the Creator of the universe, and the Father of all mankind.  If those around me cannot see God reflected, then my life will have been in vain.  

   I pray that when the day comes, and it will come, that I pass from this life, I will be remembered for being loving and kind toward my Creator and His children.  Did I do all I could do to live for Him?  I pray it is so.  

God Enthroned in our Praises

“Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. Psalm 22:3

When the death count so far from Covid 19 was announced, it literally took my breath away.  So much pain, loss, and grief.  So many lives destroyed by the death of someone they love. 

    

I've determined that the more news I hear the more unsettled my spirit becomes.  So I turned the television off and turned the praise and worship music way up.  Loud.  Really, really loud.

I’ve learned through scripture and by my own experience, negativity and Satan’s whispers cannot be heard amongst serious praise and worship.  God himself is enthroned in our praises.  Don’t miss this.  God is enthroned in our praises.  We sing and HE, the God of our universe, the Father who created us, inhabits those praises! 

Standing alone in my kitchen, God inhabited my praises, lifted me out of my discouragement as He filled me with hope, joy, and love.  I raised my hands as my heart inflated with the breath of heaven.  

I have born witness that true worship elevates the heart to a place where worry and strife can no longer reach. These facts were affirmed as I listened to a group of singers on Facebook sing the lovely hymn, “It is Well with my Soul.”  Because of social distancing the song was recorded one singer at a time in their own individual homes using their phone recorders.  Then someone blended it together to form a brilliant, soulful, heartwarming rendition of this old hymn.  

On Tuesday nights during this crisis Keith and Kristyn Getty have been gathering live around their piano with their four little girls in what they call “Hymn Sing.” I have been participating in this singing and I can tell you that as those little girls smiling and singing hymns has filled me with such joy and hope not only in anticipation of our future victory over the virus, but also a renewed appreciation for the power of God’s children praising Him. 

Background noise

Philippians 4:8 (ESV) 

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

   Yesterday I took respite from the rattling noise of social media, news apps, and 24-7 cable news.  It was a refreshing tonic for my weary mind.  Oddly the tiredness I feel seems unfounded since during this quarantine I labor all day, yet at the end of the day seem to have actually accomplished little.  I am exhausted yet don’t sleep well most nights.  I am severly conflicted. 

With a list of a few errands in my hand, I hoped in my car yesterday. Being able to ride alone with only the sound of the wind from my lowered car window was bliss.  As I took the back roads and saw all the fields and trees coming alive with the rebirth of spring, I could envision the breeze releasing the mental cobwebs that have exhausted me.

After weeks of this virus crisis, I find myself conflicted between my mind’s desire to hear the latest news and my soul’s thirst for peace.  I have a recollection of this same issue torturing me right after the 1995 terror attack in Oklahoma and again after the September 11, 2001 attacks.   

After prayer concerning my mental exhaustion, I have come to the conclusion the news full the medical authorities and commentators arguing back and forth over who is to blame for this crisis, I’ve allowed the media to be my background noise while I struggle to trudge through each day.  I can be better than that.  

So today I have again kept the noise down. I clicked off the television, music, and radio.  Right now I can only hear the next door chickens clucking, the dog of the neighbor across the street barking, and the soft lull of the dishwasher running.   In the quietness I am energized as I remember the names of people I want to lift up to God in prayer.  In the stillness I can ponder scriptures and focus on the good and lovely things of life.