Respite for the Remnant

Encouragement in such a time as this

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  • In a Dark, Dreary (Colorless) World, Look Up…. (part 1)

    From the archives, originally posted on 3/8/24

    Phyllis Beveridge Nissila

    Have You Noticed?

    Have you noticed, too, how a lot of ads, these days, feature dark, dreary colors? New paint colors for interiors and exteriors, for example, have gone from soothing grays and peaceful aquamarines to ashy charcoal and funereal black.

    For a different kind of ad, this one pale in color, a pharma company is selling pills and potions for some dread disease featuring grossly-magnified wormy parasites that suddenly pop up and slither their way across part of an article you are engrossed in, but now you’re just grossed out.

    Still other offensive pop-up “health” ads feature anatomically correct images of, well, what most people prefer to view in a doctor’s office or the privacy of their own bathrooms.

    Food ads–whether the food is good for you or not–are often smeared with shapes and colors looking like the contents of a petri dish gone bad or THAT leftover now stuck to the back of the fridge, the only color emanating from it a thick layer of faded bacterial fuzz smothering the top of some now-unrecognizeable old casserole, or something,  if you even stop to investigate before tossing both leftover and maybe your lunch, too (so that’s where that smell came from…).

    And one more example, this from the fashion industry, the very ad that assaulted my eyes the other day and prompted both a grimace and this post, and a brief look-back at fashion that used to actually be fashionable.

    Certain lines of contemporary haute couture are not necessarily, as the term has always suggested, “the creation of exclusive custom-fitted high-end fashion design” (source) although they still cost high-end bucks.

    The fashion line I still can’t get out of my mind’s eye, a torn, tattered uneven line, looked more like discards gathering mold and moths shoved in the back of the costume warehouse 0f the old post-apocalyptic flick Water World. The colors seemed shoveled up from a barnyard palette, if you get my drift, the models looking as depressed as their “dresses” and expressions…

    Or is it just me re all this?

    I understand that gone are the days of my youth when the mothers, even from lower income brackets with a pile of kids to care for like my mother, took pains with their grooming, gowns, and accessories, hats and gloves a must even for department store forays, dressed in those ubiquitous, colorful, freshly-ironed shirt-waist dresses and, alternately, flowery maternity tops and matching expando-waist skirts.

    The sixties’ garb is long gone as well, splashed and splattered as it was with bright colors and bold designs. A lot of paisley, too, for some reason.

    Then along came the blousy, “back to nature” collections of the seventies’ in soft, subtle earth tones, followed by the stern emergence of “power suits” in the eighties, their substantively padded shoulders helping Successful Women wedge their way to the top floor executive offices…

    Gone also are (my favorite)  the feminine, pastel-rich hues of the eighties when I was raising my two daughters (although I am sure the extra-strength hair spray needed to secure–come rain, sleet, or snow–the expansively curled and coiffed hair styles to go with, has by now petrified more than a few curled hair strands that are plastered, still, in the corners of abandoned powder rooms everywhere).

    Even the nineties grunge at least had some shape and style to it, the tears and zippers suggested symmetry, the messages on pins stuck to the lapels of black leather jackets (or printed on the T-shirts beneath) were spelled correctly, as compared with the current (Water World) collection featuring, as far as I can tell, a burlap-sack profile, accessorized by random hanging threads and undertones of despair. Coal-black eye shadow and nail polish sold separately.

    Haute couture, at least that saggy, baggy, raggy collection I viewed the other day on this very monitor, looks more like hurt couture, IMO.

    So why has the world of color gone so gloomy and doomy in many corners, it seems–and not just in its ads for paint, pharmaceuticals, food, and fashion?

    Shades of La Révolution?

    Outside of whatever the fashion designers can get away with on the runway for fun and profit, those who run away (sporting the Street Cred collection?) to join the latest clash between some haves and have-nots fighting for their rights–but typically damning yours–(clad in the noir-black hoodies and blood-red rags of some Révolution brand?) set aside such bourgeoisie fashion-bother to follow the crowd–as well as the politics du campus.

    Long live the, ah, colour revolution?

    Say what?

    Number 7: Debase Art

    If you think about it, these days certain art and craft seem more like art and crash, more like Alice Bailey’s Ten Point Plan to replace western civilization’s uplifting principles of freedom and justice to the downward twisting spiral of New Age spiritualism and One World (Totalitarian) Order (source).

    Bailey’s point number 7, and to the point, here:  “Debase art, make it run mad.” Mad and dour, I would add, if not de-faced, neglected, or destroyed completely. Her idea of debasement includes subject matter as well.

    So the assault to the senses happens not only in forgotten warehouses, medical side-bars, foul-smelling refrigerators, dulled-down furniture and walls slapped with a fresh coat of dark paint (the Hovel collection?) but also, sadly, everywhere, it seems, these days.

    I will have to leave the art and science of what a full color palette, whether in fashion, food, or anything else, does to brighten, inspire, and enhance the mind, emotions, and spirit of human beings everywhere, to artists and scientists to analyze.

    But even old-fashioned common sense suffices.

    In short, a full spectrum of color–or lack thereof–matters.

    Let’s just hope “they” don’t come out with perfumes, too, Eau de toilette taking on a whole new meaning, here.

    On the Original Palette

    Before I depress you more, however, dear reader, by continuing to describe a world fast going gloomy in a variety of senses, I want you to be refreshed, amazed, encouraged, and inspired by He Who not only engineered but also lavished His creation with every dazzling color on the original palette, every inspiring sound for the ear, soothing and sensual texture for touch, sweet scent for smell, and delicious taste for the palate.

    This is best said with His own inspired Words, brought to you by King David, as He invites weary passersby to a better scene–and experience:

    Psalms 19:1-6

    The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard. Their line is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun, which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race. His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it: and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

    I invite you (and me, too) to mute the increasingly fearful/gross  sights, harsh sounds, noxious smells, course textures, and sour tastes of this blighted world for a few moments, and think on the Creator of creators.

    His original art and craft.

    I mean, from where else could all of it have come alive–and thrive–from the primordial tabula rasa?

    Could mere man necklace the sparkling lights across the night sky or nurture a rose from seed to bud to bloom–and add an exquisite scent (after all, He didn’t have to add that)?

    Sit under a wide tree in the sun, if you have one or both, or some other restful place while you’re at it and think on these wonders.

    Let your spirit rise above all the muck and mire of a world spoiled and dulled with evil.

    And should the world’s gloomy landscape attempt to force your eye and heart downward, remember there is another place He has prepared for us, a realm where,

    …as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9).

    Look up…

    ~~~~~

    Why and how to enter into the world of His love and redemption from all this darkness and ugliness? Here is a good summary: ABCs of Salvation

    Today would be good.

    Ponder that, too, while ye yet may.

  • Concerning the Rich Young Ruler Who Ran Through the Crowd to Kneel at Jesus’ Feet and Ask an Important Question

    The Rich Young Ruler (Mark 10:17-22 NASB)

    17 As He was setting out on a journey, a man ran up to Him and knelt before Him, and asked Him, “Good Teacher, what shall I do so that I may inherit eternal life?” 18 But Jesus said to him, “Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not give false testimony, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’” 20 And he said to Him, “Teacher, I have kept all these things from my youth.” 21 Looking at him, Jesus showed love to him and said to him, “One thing you lack: go and sell all you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” 22 But he [a]was deeply dismayed by [b]these words, and he went away grieving; for he was one who owned much property.

    There was a discussion in a recent Bible study about this fellow cited in Matthew, chapter 10.
    Some thought it might be pride that motivated him to approach Jesus that day–up close and personal—and ask, “What shall I do that I might inherit eternal life?” because, read on, he had already done so much in his eyes, at least what he knew to do according to the Law. And this came out when Jesus cited the Commandments.

    So, I think it might be inferred that he asked what else could he do, after his impressive testimony. Maybe it was something in his tone of voice?

    But it could have been pride, of course.

    Things were really working out for him.

    But a little bird tells me he wasn’t completely satisfied.

    Is That All There Is?

    Reminds me of an old pop tune: “Is That All There Is?” (Peggy Lee, 1969) only, in contrast to the lyrics of Lee’s song, the young ruler didn’t sink into a kind of nihilistic malaise fueled by ennui and alcohol. He knew, maybe even had a gut feeling, that There. Was. Something. More–after this life, even after all his good works–because…ah…what?

    So that day when the man, The Man, was in the neighborhood, His reputation of miracles, healings, and deliverances having preceded Him by that time, the rich young ruler sprinted through the crowd coming to a stop on his knees at the feet of Jesus.

    (Side note: likely raising a number of proper eyebrows, too! I mean, didn’t such a prestigious one have people running to him to pay obeisance at his feet in time of need?)

    Must have been worth it, however, to take the risk of humbling himself in the dirt in front of this itinerant, controversial teacher from Nazareth (that village of little import).  

    It was likely not a good look for Mr. Privileged, either, who had a position in halls of power, maybe a mansion on a hill, robes and regalia custom fit at a shop named something like Lord and Levi.

    One can only imagine.

    But yes, pride, maybe.

    Nevertheless, he risked stepping outside his statusphere for as long as it took for Jesus to answer.

    From My Perch

    Taking a risk, myself, by offering a different point of view, I think perhaps something in the rich young man’s multi-privileged (blessed?) life was still missing and he knew it.

    On his knees in the dirt, out of breath from the run, sweaty from the exertion, I think he would get his answer—do what he had to do (he was good at that)–however much he had to pay, pray, or power-broke.

    The sixty-five-thousand-shekel answer, however, from this Teacher Who looked at him with loving eyes, was not another etching on a stone of do’s and don’ts but a piercing of the young man’s heart where he’d always thought his impressive spiritual treasure was safely stored.

    SHOCK OF AGES

    But I mean wasn’t he following the law down to every jot and tittle (or so he thought) as per what all the other teachers taught? Ten Fool-Proof Ways to Rise to the Top?

    (Scene 3: Jesus speaks, the young man drops jaw, feels the burn, but knows that what Jesus tells him is true, alright.

    Enter: Sorrow.

    Exit: Rich Young Ruler.)

    Epilogue

    But more than anything, I wonder if this young man was there when Jesus, Miracle Worker of miracle workers, Prophet of prophets, yielded to whip, thorn, cross, and nail and then forgave His executioners.

    Earth shook, dead arose.

    Multiple shocks.

    Maybe, thought the young man, he could do something impossible, too.

    Perhaps he even approached what few of Jesus’ followers didn’t run off, to learn more about Him, ask a few more questions…

    And perhaps they told him what Jesus said after the rich young ruler left, that day, embalmed in great sorrow. You know, the part where Jesus added, “With people it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God” (v. 27).

    Later

    Well, we won’t know until eternity if he decided to put his faith in Jesus and do what He said.

    But we can know today that, we, too, may run to Jesus with our questions and He will stop for us. And listen. And answer.

    Will we be shocked, too, by what He says? Maybe sometimes.

    Comforted? Corrected? Encouraged?—All of the above in the fullness of time at His feet, asking, seeking, studying.

    Saved?—eternally, by trusting Him–not the coins of our mortality destined to moth and rust.

    And I imagine those loving eyes are gazing down on us, too, this very hour, whatever our Important Question is.

    For starters, I think He might say,

    28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

    29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

    30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30, KJV)

    ~~~~

    If you, too, have been wondering how you can “inherit eternal life,” consider: Salvation ABC’s

    Spoiler alert (but in a good way): Jesus already did the do’s. Back then. On that tree. For the young man, you, and me…

  • Little Did They Know…Good Friday

  • Poetry: For the Workers Late in the Field*

    For The Workers Late in the Field

    Do not forsake your furrows,

    for wheat is nigh to mills,

    tares are fruitless still,

    and merchants wait their tills.

    Do not abandon harvest,

    though sky is bruised with storm,

    though winds sweep up the branches,

    and rain in torrents forms.

    Don’t fret to hear the mockingbird,

    discourager or cad,

    or noisome howling spirits,

    your pain just makes them glad.

    But know the night is close,

    the owner, riding fast

    to see your face at twilight

    and gather in at last.

    *Original posting here: for-the-workers-late-in-the-fields-1.pdf Revised here. I may be inspired to feature other poems from this collection, to likely also edit, in my ongoing efforts to be some kind of poet. Be merciful.

  • On Pearls and Swine: What Jesus Said

    Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you. (Matthew 7:6, KJV)

    Encouragement is like a two-sided coin. On one side it reads “DO,” on the other side, “Don’t”. One side says “Yes!”; the other, “No!”

    Rude or Righteous?

    At surface glance, what Jesus said in the verse above seems rather harsh, yet, like that two-sided coin, a loving God looking out for our welfare prompts us both ways,

    But how do we know if Jesus’ explanation–and warning–is rude or .righteous?

    As with all Biblical examination, context is key.

    What the Bereans Did

    The Bereans were a group of early truth seekers commended for their practice of listening and reading closely to make sure what was being taught by Jesus’ first disciples was true. As recorded in Acts chapter 17:

    The brothers immediately sent Paul and Silas away by night to Berea, and when they arrived they went into the Jewish synagogue. Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so. Many of them therefore believed, with not a few Greek women of high standing as well as men. (v, 11-12)

    Looking At Both Sides Now, and Discernment

    .I believe the context-rich explanation in the video presentation below covers both sides of the encouragement coin while also providing some biblical perspective regarding whether or not we are to always engage in every conversation, argument, or debate with someone who seems intent only on pushing back on our belief in Jesus Christ–worse, he or she projects hostility.

    Because, in my view, discernment will prove increasingly valuable in a world growing arguably more anti-Christian by the day.

    So the question becomes: do we remain at risk (or at ministry) or, “shake the dust off our feet and move on?

    The presentation also, in my view, presents the unifying love of a Heavenly Father who expresses His patience and compassion toward us by both showing us the Way, Truth, and Life path, you know, that narrow one, and how to remain on it in spite of rabbit trails and hostile territory.

    For He also loves those who push back (with whom we may have a shortened relationship now) but who, in due time, may also choose the right path.

    Of great encouragement just now, though, is that, in the frustration and heartache this situation might prove for one or more of us today, perhaps our response may just be one seed of truth planted in the other’s mind and/or heart, or in another analogy, a few drops of water on a parched seedling wedged in some crack in a rock (see Matthew 13: 3-9).

    Only God knows.

    And at some future point, He may use our seemingly fruitless efforts now for His redemptive purpose then.

    But see what you discern regarding the presentation, below.

    Note: my choice of this video does not necessarily imply that I agree with other teachings from this ministry outreach..

    Citation: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCOuLnMY-ijC2Mg8SlU-f88Q

  • Honoring Old Sam the Poetry Man

    It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. (Proverbs 25:2 KJV)

    As I recall,

    his name was Sam.

    He came to the neighborhood prayer group

    once in awhile,

    slow on his cane,

    gnarled fingers clenching

    a well-worn KJV

    mottled and creased, yet

    kept safe from

    time, tempest (and tears?)

    –one could only imagine

    his years.

    When the rest of us had finished

    laying down our aches and pains,

    prodigals and praise,

    on the altar of the

    community room sanctuary,

    Sam carefully

    peeled open

    a creased paper

    wedged in the pages of the book.

    His verses

    –etched by fading eyesight–

    came from some recent revelation

    in Psalms, epistles,

    Numbers or narratives,

    wherever his ear

    was attuned that week.

    Like a modern Job, I thought,

    fresh from listening

    to God unfolding the

    mysteries of the universe

    that any of us can hear

    when we draw near

    with calm eye and

    quiet ear

    –amid pain like Job

    or not–

    stilling the sights and sounds of

    wars and rumors of wars,

    without and within,

    to see and hear God

    for a spell.

    When it was his turn,

    Sam read his simple poems in sotto voice

    inspired by a verse or two from his little black treasure chest…

    where that other poetry man,

    the Poet of poets,

    dwells “yesterday, today, and forever,”

    binding together every page and book

    into the story of our salvation

    writ in blood on coarse timber,

    impaled by 3 rough-cast nails,

    crowned with thorns

    of cruelty and of pain

    as He allowed Himself, God’s only perfect Son,

    to be the Unblemished Sacrifice

    for blemished humanity.

    Selah

    Those many years ago,

    with fading voice and faltering hand, Sam

    brought the “apples of gold in settings of silver”

    he had discovered that week in his old KJV, ready

    to share then.

    And even today.

    Although the poetry man

    is long, now, walking streets of gold

    the Fatherload remains for us.

    And I discover another

    of his and His treasures to share with you,

    dear reader,

    mined between the lines of the treasure book,

    underneath creek beds,

    above the exosphere bound only to God.

    What I bring today is from Proverbs chapter 25, verse 2

    where it is revealed that even paupers are honored kings,

    rheumy eyes see clear,

    tired ears hear,

    and the glory of matter

    (and of a matter)

    is gifted us, too, when

    we make our requests known to God,

    inclining eye and ear to Him

    until we feel His breath,

    know His smile, and

    comprehend

    a little bit more

    about His love for us

    –line upon line, precept upon precept,

    book upon chapter and verse.

    Thank you, poetry man

    and Poetry Man,

    from here to then

    and eternity.

  • Everyday Epiphanies

    According to merriam-webster.com/dictionary definition #3, an epiphany, besides being the name of a Christian feast day (the one with a capital E), can be: “a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something,” (small e).

    That’s what I’m talking about here, today.

    And aren’t you glad?

    The focus of today’s post of encouragement, also from my cache of former posts, concerns definition #3 and describes a (small e) epiphany I had some years ago on a train ride.

    See what you think and take a minute to remember one of those you’ve probably had in your life, too.

    It just took me a few minutes, but reminds me, to this day, that all kinds of small events, like small beautiful things featured in the last post, can open new vistas to prompt us forward, too.

    And to remind us as long as we are choosing to not be engulfed in the doom and gloom all around, there are still events and realizations to keep hope up–and keep us on track.

    Epiphany (Devotional)

  • On Everyday Valentines

    Right?

    Why save chocolate and roses and cards for just February 14th?

    So many beautiful small things can trigger a smile, a tear, a moment of the kind of soft relief that interrupts the gloom–if just in that moment.

    Better yet, beautiful small things might get the eyeballs glued to some small electronic gadget to look up and around for a minute (miracle of miracles).

    But no time for cynicism here, just to offer this, today from my cache of posts from 2013 that I still think about up here in 2026.

    I hope you may be encouraged–maybe even inspired–by the experience and thoughts offered here, too.

    From the Archives: “On Valentines and Kindness,” 2013

    The story a local resident told in his letter to the editor went something like this:

    I went to the window of my office to stretch a bit and watch the goings-on in the street below. It was cold outside. A disheveled looking guy sitting on the curb, a homeless man I’d seen before, sat with his arms wrapped around himself to get some warmth, I suppose.

    As I was watching, a well-dressed man with an attaché case stopped by. He sat down on the curb next to the homeless guy and talked for a few minutes. Before he got up and went on his way, he took off his gloves and gave them to the other.  

    Neither man knew, of course, I witnessed this simple act of kindness. It kind of restored my faith in mankind, you know?

    On this Valentine’s Day when, with a little help from Hallmark, the flower shops, and the candy stores we celebrate love, I am reminded of the kind of love that gilts the gold, ices the cake—restores the heart.

    It’s not necessarily bright, shiny, brave, or beautiful as we sometimes imagine love to be. It resembles more a few minutes’ chat in a lonesome place; the warmth of compassion, of a sudden, on a cold curb. The best of who we can be offered to someone else with or without a return.

    Here are some other thoughts on this, I believe, most potent form of love:

    “There is nothing so rewarding as to make people realize that they are worthwhile in this world.” (Bob Anderson)

    “Nothing,” wrote Tolstoy, “can make our life, or the lives of other people, more beautiful than perpetual kindness.”

    “Sometimes it’s easy to lose faith in people. And sometimes one act of kindness is all it takes to give you hope again.” (Randa Abdel-Fattah)

    And this little gem:

    “Life is mostly froth and bubble,

    Two things stand like stone.

    Kindness in another’s trouble,

    Courage in your own.” (Adam Gordon)

    Take heart. Give heart. Happy Valentine’s Day.

    .

  • Respite for the Remnant–Introduction

    My prompt to begin this blog just now is to encourage all who may stop by for a reminder–or perhaps to hear for the first time–that a certain gift of peace bequeathed by the Prince of Peace some 2000 years ago is still available—even in such a time as this.

    I invite you to pause here for whatever brief rest my posts may provide in the (real) existential battle of battles, because it is ultimately good that overcomes evil even though evil often seems bigger and more powerful.

    Consider a few lessons from nature, for example, how tender seedlings grow to towering redwoods and how a certain little bird perched on a frozen branch still warbled some hopeful message in “the dregs of winter,” as poet Thomas Hardy suggests in his poem, “The Darkling Thrush”:


    …So little cause for carolings

          Of such ecstatic sound

    Was written on terrestrial things

          Afar or nigh around,

    That I could think there trembled through

          His happy good-night air

    Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

          And I was unaware

    Or perhaps in some mind-boggling epiphany of a moment in a physics class or some other experience you became aware of the power in each tiny, invisible-to-the-naked-eye atom.

    So take heart.

    For even in this time into which we were born, you and I, too, have some message of hope to broadcast to those who, like the poet coming upon that little thrush, might also feel there is little cause for “carolings,” let alone respite, amid what would smother our peace today. If we let it.

    Whether clad in mortal or immortal armor, on the ground or in the spirit, we can offer prayers to sustain and restrain and anthems and hallelujahs to raise high flags of thanksgiving, truth, comfort, guidance, and wisdom–while we yet may, as we may.

    Welcome.

    Be encouraged.

    Be comforted.

    Carry on.

    ~~~~~

    See 1,200 related posts and more topics on my other blog here: https://pnissila.wordpress.com/

    P.S. Update, 4/16/26– Oh, by the way, the beauty of a personal blog is that one can update here, change a word there, so if you like something and might just want to get another view, you might see some change, if just a punctuation mark or two. This will mostly apply to my “poetry” which is always a work in progress for me, my always and current writing quest.

    Permission to share, updated 2026, is:
     
     CC BY-ND 4.0

    That is, my work is free to re-post or use in some other way without altering the content and by citing this source.

    I make no money on this project.

    Certain posts from my other blog may show up here, too. pnissila | For Such a Time as This