When a friend asks to borrow a tissue, I say, “Here, take one. I don’t want it back.”

While a handkerchief is loaned or borrowed, a tissue is not.

Cautions against borrowing and lending go back centuries.

In Act I, Scene III of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Polonius counsels his son Laertes, “Neither a borrower nor lender be.”

The oft-quoted Benjamin Franklin warned: He that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing.

But we borrow and lend all kinds of things: cups of sugar, lawnmowers, umbrellas, cars, and money.

Yet, a few things we refuse to lend, even though they may be “lendable.”

My favorite refillable pen, I do not lend.

I have a beautiful old bowl that belonged to my Great-Grandma Shoemate. It is pink and may be Depression glass. Whether it is or isn’t, I won’t lend it.

I own a hardback copy of Praise the Human Season by Don Robertson. It is one of my favorite novels.

My mom “bargained” with a neighbor to buy the book for 25 cents. (The neighbor didn’t want the book for herself but didn’t want to give it away.)

The book cost my mother 25 cents, but it is worth much more than that to me.

In fact, I will lend that book only to people I would be willing to lend $1,000.

And, of course, some things should never be lent or borrowed: identification cards, urine samples, and spouses, for example.

Surely the most unlikely thing to loan is a grave.

Yet, the body of Jesus was placed inside a borrowed tomb.

In the Old Testament, an Israelite was required to make restitution if he borrowed an animal, tool, or other item and then lost or damaged it.

In 2 Kings 6, an account is given of an incident in the life of the prophet Elisha.

He and students of the School of the Prophets were building a new meeting place near the Jordan River.

As one man worked to cut down a tree, the iron axe head he used fell into the water.

“O no, my Lord,” the man cried out. “It was borrowed.”

Had the axe head belonged to the student prophet himself, its loss would have been great. But since it was borrowed, its value was increased.

Under the Old Law, the appropriate response for the borrower of the axe head would have been based upon the following verse.

Exodus 22:14: If a man borrows anything from his neighbor, and it is injured or dies while its owner is not with it, he shall make full restitution.

Some commentators suggest that replacing a borrowed axe head in that day would be equivalent to replacing a borrowed car today.

Many fights, divorces, and lawsuits ensue when adequate restitution is not made.

Restitution is defined as the act of restoring, as in restoration of something to its rightful owner.

Restitution is a common theme in the Bible.

Read Exodus 22 and Leviticus 6 for examples of God’s laws governing restitution under the Old Law.

The New Testament records a beautiful account of restitution in the story of Zacchaeus.

Luke 19:8-9:Zacchaeus stood before the Lord and said, “I will give half my wealth to the poor, Lord, and if I have cheated people on their taxes, I will give them back four times as much!”

Jesus responded, “Salvation has come to this home today, for this man has shown himself to be a true son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.”

An article found at www.gotquestions.org  sums up the exchange between Zacchaeus and Jesus this way:

From Zacchaeus’s words, we gather that 1) he had been guilty of defrauding people, 2) he was remorseful over his past actions, and 3) he was committed to making restitution.

From Jesus’ words, we understand that 1) Zacchaeus was saved that day and his sin was forgiven, and 2) the evidence of his salvation was both his public confession (see Romans 10:10) and his relinquishing of all ill-gotten gains.

Zacchaeus repented, and his sincerity was evident in his immediate desire to make restitution. Here was a man who was penitent and contrite, and the proof of his conversion to Christ was his resolve to atone, as much as possible, for past sins.

The same holds true for anyone who truly knows Christ today. Genuine repentance leads to a desire to redress wrongs. When someone becomes a Christian, he will have a desire born of deep conviction to do good, and that includes making restoration whenever possible.

The idea of “whenever possible” is crucially important to remember. There are some crimes and sins for which there is no adequate restitution.

In such instances, a Christian should make some form of restitution that demonstrates repentance, but at the same time, does not need to feel guilty about the inability to make full restitution.

Restitution is to be a result of our salvation—it is not a requirement for salvation. If you have received forgiveness of sins through faith in Jesus Christ, all your sins are forgiven, whether you have been able to make restitution for them or not.

That is because grace is neither lent nor borrowed.

It is God’s enduring gift to His undeserving but ever grateful children.

 

My family and friends know I am a fan of Neil Diamond’s music.

Whether I am a fan of Neil Diamond the man, I can’t say. I don’t know him.

But I know his music well. All his music. The lyrics to every  one of his  popular songs.

I can name that tune in three notes.

This morning I put five Neil Diamond CDs into my player so I could listen as I cleaned.

After listening to Play Me, I picked up the remote to press the back arrow and hear that favorite again.

What I heard was the beginning of Brooklyn Roads. A good song, but not the one I wanted.

I tried again.

I pressed the back arrow twice. This time I got Crunchy Granola Suite.

 What is wrong with this crazy thing? I thought.

After pressing the button more times and hearing the beginnings of several songs, I studied the remote in my hand.

I was holding it upside down.

Backward was forward; forward was backward.

When I was a little girl, I once watched my Uncle Jake drive home backwards.

He shifted his vehicle into reverse, used his mirrors, and backed all the way home, about a mile. We lived in the country where the dirt roads were crooked, rutted and hilly.

We could drive miles on that road and not meet another vehicle. That made his backward driving less risky, but still.

They say if you play a country song backward, the singer gets his house back, his wife back, his truck back and his dog back.

If you’re familiar with the writings of Shel Silverstein, you know he’d be bound to write a poem about backwards. Here it is, courtesy of www.poemhunter.com.

 

BACKWARD BILL

Backward Bill, Backward Bill,

He lives way up on Backward Hill,

Which is really a hole in the sandy ground

(But that’s a hill turned upside down.)

 

Backward Bill’s got a backward shack

With a big front porch that’s built out back.

You walk through the window and look out the door

And the cellar is up on the very top floor.

 

Backward Bill he rides like the wind

Don’t know where he’s going but sees where he’s been.

His spurs they go ‘neigh’ and his horse it goes ‘clang,’

And his six-gun goes ‘gnab,’ it never goes ‘bang.’

 

Backward Bill’s got a backward pup.

They eat their supper when the sun comes up,

And he’s got a wife named Backward Lil,

‘She’s my own true hate,’ says Backward Bill.

 

Backward Bill wears his hat on his toes

And puts on his underwear over his clothes.

And come every payday he pays his boss,

And rides off a-smilin’ a-carryin’ his hoss.

 

Living backward may work well for Bill, but it is a misery when practiced in one’s spiritual life.

A backward-living Christian tries hard to be good before she receives the Holy Spirit’s power to do good.

She demands to see a thing before she believes it, rather than believing by faith that she will see it.

She seeks to be first when Jesus assures her such groveling will cause her to be last.

She craves what her friends have instead of being thankful for her own blessings.

She determines to work her way to salvation when Jesus says, “The work is finished.”

In public, people often mask their emotions. They smile and say they are fine. They chat and then walk away.

Heather, Ellen and Tom do this.

And they always look to be the same. Steady ships sailing on the river of life.

 

The Heather I see at the grocery store is not the real Heather.

The real Heather’s boyfriend is becoming abusive. He hasn’t hit her yet, but he has jerked her arm so hard it hurt and shoved away from his car.

Heather fears she may be pregnant again. She can’t have this baby.

I would be a lousy mother, she thinks.

Heather cries and says, “I swore my first abortion would be my last one, but what else can I do?”

The Ellen I smile at during church is not the real Ellen.

The real Ellen is a cancer survivor. She lives every day fearing the disease will return.

Ellen’s husband has checked out. He comes home from work, eats dinner, and then falls asleep in his recliner watching reruns of NCIS.

The two of them exchange only four or five sentences a day.

Ellen cries and vows, “One day I’ll get the courage to leave him. I’ll find a man who understands my fear.”

The Tom I view standing on the sidewalk is not the real Tom.

The real Tom is seeing his psychiatrist later today to ask her to change his medications. He takes antidepressant and antianxiety pills, but they aren’t working.

Every morning, Tom’s first thought is to kill himself.

His job stinks and his wife has moved out. He lives in squalor. Trash litters the floors and furniture. The grass in his yard is eight inches tall but cutting the grass requires energy he does not have.

Tom cries and says, “Tomorrow I will clean the house and mow the grass. I’ll look for a better job. I’ll call my wife and ask her to meet me to talk.”

But when he wakes up the next morning, his first temptation is to kill himself.

Few people see the real Debbie. Everyone else sees my mask.

These few people know the intensity of my struggle with OCD.

An unstoppable, continuous loop of repetitive thoughts plays and replays inside my mind.

These thoughts push me to perform, organize, and count.

This morning, obeying my OCD urgings, I set out to wash both sides of every door inside the house.

My bed sat unmade and two piles of dirty clothes lay on the bathroom floor. My kitchen needed attention.

I cry and tell myself, “Only a stupid person washes doors when her housework and laundry are out of control. I am stupid.”

This sad thought drives me to the kitchen where I finish the last of the graham crackers.

My sister calls.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Awful,” I say.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m standing in the kitchen eating my 16th graham cracker.”

“Sixteen graham crackers will never be enough,” she says.

She is right.

Food, no matter how much of it I eat, cannot fix what is wrong with me.

 

Food is not the solution to my problem.

An abortion is not the solution to Heather’s problem.

Leaving her husband and finding a new mate is not the solution to Ellen’s problem.

Suicide is not the solution to Tom’s problem.

I am thankful my sister cares about me.

She and other family members and  friends encourage me. They check often to see how I am doing.

I am stronger because they care.

I wonder.

Who cares about Heather, Ellen and Tom?