Strengthen self-control

But God’s power must be used rightly June 5, 2025

Galatians 5:22-23 But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!

Proverbs 16:32 Better to have self-control than to conquer a city.

Proverbs 25:28 A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls.

I’m writing today in lovely Meridian, Idaho, remembering the impact on me of previous experiences in this beautiful state and their influence on Treasure Hunt 1904, book two of the Cally and Charlie historical fiction series. My sister Jan and I are here for a few days visiting our sister Marsha and brother-in-law Vance. I’ve not been here before in June. The flowers are stunning.

Marsha’s roses

The themes of Treasure Hunt 1904 directly relate to the final virtue in Paul’s description of agape, the lovely fruit the Spirit produces in our lives when we give him freedom to garden our hearts.

Self-control, translated “temperance”—moderation, self-restraint—in the KJV, is enkrateia in Greek, derived from the word kratos, which means strength. Like praos (see the last blog about gentleness), enkrateia is a strong word. It calls us to the right use of power. That power, as we know, is the operation of the Spirit of God in our lives, which we will recognize and celebrate this Sunday, Pentecost.

Along with the other virtues, gentleness calls us to choose how we treat others. Enkrateia reminds us we have the ability and responsibility to choose how we manage ourselves, circling us back to “Love others as you love yourself,” as Jesus taught us (Matthew 22:39). The Spirit empowers us to do both with godliness (God-likeness, the God who is love) as we practice agape.

Paul uses enkrateia (as a verb): we must discipline ourselves to win the race of life. Not to win temporary earthly rewards, but an eternal prize: God’s “Well done, faithful servant” (see 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Philippians 3:12-14; Matthew 25:21).

So, what’s the connection with Treasure Hunt 1904? Using the motifs of a multi-layered treasure hunt and of water (see John 7:38-39), so critically important to transform into fruitfulness the fertile deserts of Idaho, we see Cally grapple with the wounds of trauma in her life (book one), emerging from the grief and paralysis of victimhood into proactive purpose. As she grows into acceptance of the love the Malcomson family offers her, Cally begins to recognize her own power. She can make choices for herself, rather than being controlled, for good or ill, by others.

This book also includes scenes of the devastating, ongoing impact of previous decades of misuse of power, sometimes, tragically, in the name of God, as western settlers and the U.S. government claimed a “manifest destiny” over the lives and territory of native Americans and others. Is not this false equivalence, still plaguing the world today, a breaking of the third commandment and of Jesus’ command to love others as he loves us?

Pentecost Sunday initiates the liturgical season of “ordinary time.” Ordinary, for you and me and all followers of Jesus, means practicing the wonderful fruit of the Spirit, in the agape love of the Father, empowered by Jesus’ conquest of sin and death by his sacrifice on the cross and his resurrection. “Live clean, innocent lives as children of God, shining like bright lights.. your faithful service is an offering to God” (Philippians 2:15-17).

In ordinary time, let’s shine! Let’s bear fruit that adorns the world with joy.

Holy Spirit, today I offer you freedom to grow the good fruit of agape love in my heart, in all its dimensions. Pull out the weeds, heal the wounds, rebuild healthy boundaries, and water the fertile soil of God’s love. Amen.

Healing at the lake, Part 2, by Karen Johnson, Hershey, PA

But God wipes away our tears

Revelation 7:17 For the Lamb on the throne will be their Shepherd. He will lead them to springs of life-giving water. And God will wipe every tear from their eyes.

I invite you to come back with me to the dock by the lake. The sun is dancing off the rippled surface, and the air is just hot enough to make the cool water inviting. I turn around and, with total abandon, fling out my arms and fall backward into the lake. As the water welcomes and envelops me, Jesus gives a loud whoop and dives in beside me. We swim and frolic in the amazing creation that is water. As I float on my back, I delight in the warm sun on my face and am caught by the wonder of the green trees on the shore contrasting with the clear blue sky.

A fog rolls in from the land, dark and sinister, and I suddenly find myself on the dock, wrapped in a wet towel, dripping, cold, and frightened. Jesus pulls himself up onto the dock and, with a smile, takes my hand. As we head up the slope towards the house, he leads me over to a stream I was never aware of before. He invites me to sit with him beside the brook. He puts his arm around me with what I think is a blanket, but then I realize that I am fully clothed and warm and dry. Even my hair is dry!

As we sit in the warm sun, we wrap our arms around our knees and lean into each other as we laugh at the water tumbling over the rocks. “I really love where the deeper water flows smoothly over the rocks, too,” I say. “It makes me want to touch it. It’s like the smooth black stone in the rough sidewalk that I always stop to rub my foot over.” Jesus soaks in my delight at his cleverness in giving even a little stream bed such wonderful variety.

Soon it’s time to go. Jesus pulls me to my feet, and we head up the slope, hand in hand, our arms swinging between us. As we approach the house, a fog like a swarm of bees rushes towards us. Jesus angles his body so that he absorbs the onslaught, and the swarm dissipates into the air. Knowing trouble is waiting for us, Jesus gives me a cheeky grin and a wink.

I find myself at the table, enduring an unending harangue about how horrible I am to have come inside late, but Jesus is in the chair next to me, sitting close in solidarity with me. As the barrage of words overwhelms me, he pulls me onto his lap and starts whispering in my ear about how he loves me and how much fun he had playing in the water with me and how delighted he is by my tender heart.

“I don’t condemn you,” he says. His words soothe me so that I drift off to sleep, curled against his chest. I awaken when I’m instructed to make sandwiches for lunch. I hop off Jesus’s lap. He again takes my hand and asks, “How can I help?” We go together into the kitchen. He knows how much I love working with other people in the kitchen!

As we spread slices of bread across the countertop and mix up tuna salad, our shoulders bump. We laugh as we remember what a fun morning we had. We replay the vision of the sun on the water and the trees against the sky. We delight in the lush green grass of the lawn and the flowering trees outside the kitchen window. We remember the brook as it tripped and fell over stones on its way.

“What about the others?” I ask. “I’m so sad for the pain they feel.”

“Don’t worry,” Jesus comforts me. “I’ve got them. You don’t have to fix them. I’m big enough to love them too. I don’t even have to leave you in order to take care of them. I’m holding each of you. You couldn’t see it, but I gave gifts to them at the table while you slept on my lap. I let your mom know that you were sheltered from the pain of her words, even as she felt powerless to stop them. That comforted her soul. Your dad was reassured that someone bigger and stronger than either of you was there to protect the child he loved. He could rest in my strength.”

“Thank you for caring for all of us,” I say. “Thank you for a lovely morning, and for bringing the joy of the lake into the house, to the table, and into the kitchen. Thank you for delighting in all the beauty with me. Thank you for a wonderful weekend at the lake.”

With a deep sense of peace, we get in the car together and drive away.

Oh give thanks!

But God turns deserts into pools

Psalm 107:34-35 God turns the fruitful land into salty wastelands, because of the wickedness of those who live there. But he also turns deserts into pools of water, the dry land into springs of water.

Psalm 110:7 But God himself will be refreshed from brooks along the way.

While I was in Idaho, my brother-in-law drove me four and a half hours across the rolling high desert hills to a place I wanted to revisit for Treasure Hunt 1904. It’s a journey of dramatic contrasts. From time to time we passed emerald fields patchworking the desert, irrigation rigs spraying life into naturally dry yet fertile soil. The rivers supplying this magic cut deep ravines through volcanic rock.

I’ve never lived in a dry place. In Guatemala we used to say it rained thirteen months of the year, while Brazilian torrential rains gave me a new understanding of the devastating power of floods. In Pittsburgh, if it doesn’t rain for a week, we think we’re in drought. But through my visits to southern Idaho, I’m discovering a unique loveliness in the colors and textures of the desert and the feel of the air.

Scripture often identifies the desert as a place of intimacy with God. “I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there,” says the Lord in Hosea 2:15. The physical desert shifts my perspective from superfluity to simplicity, opening space for me to see the dry and anxious places in my heart. I’m moved from griping to gratitude, appreciating in new ways the “magic” of the sweet, life-giving flow of the Holy Spirit, the river of life. Will I submit the desert of my heart to bubbling Spirit-brooks so my life can be a place of refreshment to the Lord? Isn’t that a startling thought?

Seven times Psalm 107 repeats the phrase “Give thanks to the Lord” as it relates stories of redemption. “Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out!” (verses 2, 22, 32). If you like, you can use this blog as a way of telling: send your story to me at debrakornfield@gmail.com. Remember and tell! Your story can encourage others.

Let the one who is wise heed these things and ponder the loving deeds of the Lord (Psalm 107:43).