TJ Hirst

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.

Malachi 4:5-6

When I wrote Wisdom’s Writing on the Wall I did not know the origin of this commonly used phrase. Months later, in preparing to teach Daniel to my youth Old Testament class, I read about King Belshazzar of Babylon drinking with his lords in a great feast:

In the same hour came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the king’s palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.

Then the king’s countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another.

The king cried aloud to bring in the astrologers, the Chaldeans, and the soothsayers. And the king spake, and said to the wise men of Babylon, Whosoever shall read this writing, and shew me the interpretation thereof, shall be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold about his neck, and shall be the third ruler in the kingdom.

The king sent for the prophet Daniel who gave this interpretation:

MENE; God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it.
TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.
PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians.

see Daniel Chapter 6

The interpretation of the writing on the wall meant that God was not pleased with the king’s actions and that he and Babylon were to be destroyed, which is what happened.

In modern usage we say the “writing on the wall” and we mean that the inevitable will occur. The inevitable is usually negative. Connecting this expression with its origin expands its connotations. For a more detailed explanation go here.

Our heritage shapes our language not only by giving us words to express ourselves but by helping us associate our modern experiences with powerful historical examples.

In this election year, words are consequential. Syndicated columnist Kathleen Parker quoted the words of one West Virginia voter who wants a “full-blooded American” as president. She observed that heritage may be as important to voters as race and gender in this year’s election. She said:

What they sense is that their heritage is being swept under the carpet while multiculturalism becomes the new national narrative. And they fear what else might get lost in the remodeling of America.

Getting Bubba, May 14, 2008
Kathleen Parker

Certainly the President of the United States influences our national identity. But we write this narrative—not only by using the right words but by ensuring that we recognize all the associated implications to our culture.

This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success.

Joshua 1:8

The Question: Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us today?

I am a thief. I stole two hangers from a hotel. Paul pointed it out to me when he unpacked. Sure enough, two outfits attached to two wooden hotel hangers.

My first thought—return them immediately or my guilt will overflow each time I see them. I could mail them back to the hotel, which was in Minnesota but not in a city I would travel to soon.

I separated them from our hangers. And for seven days they stayed. (I don’t go to the post office that often.)

On the eighth day I prepared the lesson for my Old Testament class on correction, chastisement, and repentance. “And if it be stolen from him, he shall make restitution unto the owner thereof.” Exodus 22:12

Before even teaching the class, I set the hangers on the floor of our closet where we would trip on them. I asked Paul if he could return them on his business trip.

He redeemed me. They gave him a cookie. I received a clear conscious.

For all the bad hype we give to nagging feelings of guilt, I still prefer that small corrective way to the more destructive scriptural accounts of chastisements when God’s people didn’t respond to quieter means.

Intention: n. A course of action that one intends to follow. 2. An aim that guides action; an objective.

I wanted to make blueberry muffins for the 6:45 a.m. youth religion class I teach. It was Friday and we struggled through Jeremiah and Lamentations all week. I wanted to reward their effort and acknowledge their work. I envisioned combining a spiritual feast with a home-baked one.

At 9 p.m. the night before, I decide that I have too much on my plate and try to be content with the lesson I prepared.

At 6:05 a.m., dressed and ready, I say, “There is enough time; I can still do this.”

At 6:07, I heat the oven and began doubling my favorite blueberry muffin recipe. I need to get them in by 6:15 for this to work.

At 6:12, I stress a little, stirring the blueberries into the batter. What was I thinking?

At 6:17, I am lining muffin tins with paper wrappers.

At 6:19, My family comes in for prayers while I am filling the muffin cups. My husband looks at me funny. He says, “Do you have enough time to bake them?”

At 6:20, I stick them into the oven and set the timer for 15 minutes. Perfect. 15 minutes to cook. 10 minutes to get there.

At 6:33, I load up my car and start it—minus the muffins, which are still baking.

At 6:35, the toothpick comes out gooey. Overfilled the cups. Going to take longer. I set the timer for one more minute.

At 6:36, I take the muffins out, set the hot muffin tins on two larger baking sheets and grab them to leave. I burn my thumbs in the process.

At 6:45, I am halfway to the building. Ok, only a few minutes late. I am never late, and they always are. Should work out fine.

At 6:49, I drive down the road to the building. I see a familiar minivan coming toward me. I hope they were just dropped off.

At 6:50, I pull up, and one boy gets out of his car. No one else there. I am juggling the muffins and my lesson materials. I ask him for help, and he tells me three other students were here but they left. “But I made them muffins.”

At 6:51, I open the building and turn on the lights and set the muffins down in the classroom. I can’t just teach him myself. I tell him that and then say, “Wait right here, maybe I can let them know I’m here.” I grab my cell phone to find some phone numbers, but the battery goes dead.

At 6:53, I am in my car, back on the main road, driving the short distance to the high school. I make it a block and see another student’s car coming toward me. Good, we can have class, now. I turn around and head back to the building.

At 6:54, I watch that student drive right past the nearly empty parking lot.

At 6:55, Back in the building, I tell the one original student, “We’ll wait five minutes.”

At 7:02, I hand him two muffins on a napkin and cancel class.

At 7:10, I am walking the halls of the high school’s south campus trying to bring muffins to my students. The halls are empty except for the cooks in the kitchen preapring school lunch.

Plenty of food. Just no one to eat it.

This is why I am not spontaneous.