SHOW ME YOU LOVE ME….

Oct10

Walking into the ICU room, it took our breath away to see the man hooked to seemingly every machine the hospital had available for keeping someone alive. There was the breathing machine, inserted directly into his neck in the trachea, the filtration (dialysis), removing all the blood from his body, eliminating the fluid from the it, then putting the dry blood back into the body. The body responds by saying, “Hey! I have no fluid in this!” and goes into emergency mode, pulling fluid from arms, legs, hands–wherever it can, in order to keep the blood flowing and to keep his body from filling with fluid. The IV’s were providing some nourishment–not enough, but some. Because of the throat tube, he could not speak nor swallow–only small ice chips which could run down his throat were able to be in his mouth. Talking was not possible.

By the time we left, our hearts had been wrung to the point of despair. He is not an old man, being kept alive at the whim of family, but a virile, middle-aged man, whose thinking processes are alert and high. He is aware of everything said around him, and able to interact with lip movement. It was hard to learn to lip-read in an hour, but we did the best we could.

Everyone says, “Don’t keep me alive by machines!” In this case, it is necessary. The problem? The doctors aren’t sure. His breathing, when it stopped originally, caused the family to call 911, and the rest has been almost seven months in the hospital, trying to find a diagnosis.

When we got home, I began praying “fervently.” That means you recognize God is the only one Who can do anything and man’s wisdom is wholly reliant upon Him. I prayed for just ONE doctor who would go home at night, with the thought of this father, husband, son and brother not able to move, talk, or eat, and search every book known to man for an answer–but above all, one who would seek the Healer to give wisdom.

We went back a few days later, while the doctor was in, along with several other members of a team who were changing bags, adding medication, and doing everything in their power to help him. As the doctor was leaving, a member of his family stopped him to say, “He’s nervous about what you’ve been saying; can you explain to him?” The doctor stopped at the foot of the bed and in strong, direct words said, “Don’t worry–it’s all simple [what he had been doing and saying]! Everything is looking good,” and then he explained the medication, the numbers in the tests, and more. He exuded strength and knowledge. The patient took him at his word. When he left, the family member said to us, “He’s the best doctor we could have gotten. He told us he goes home at night, and has cried tears before God, asking for wisdom for what is wrong, and how to heal him.”

My mouth fell open as I told her that is exactly, to the letter, what I’ve been praying! God had shown me in one sentence that He had heard my prayer, and was answering that one. The rest? That everything will turn out the way we want it? I don’t know yet. But God does–and He will answer in His time, and in His way.

Do you think we’re the first people to cry out to God: “God, help me to believe You are here with me! Increase my faith! God, PLEASE, show me You love me!”? No. Does it help you to know that your deepest Valley of the Shadow is one that was walked by even King David himself, as well as countless others? In Psalm 86:16, 17, David cries out, “O, turn to me and have mercy on me! Give Your strength to Your servant and save the son of Your maidservant. Show me a sign for good, that those who hate me may see it and be ashamed, because You, Lord, have helped me and comforted me!” David was crying out, “God, show me You love me!”

David went through many trials–we don’t know if God showed up on this occasion, whatever it was, or if His answer was “wait,” or “no.” That’s where trust comes in. That is where faith gets proactive, and not pew-active. That’s where the rubber meets the road. Are you going to trust that whatever He does is right, or are you going to manipulate things so that it goes your way? It always comes back to a choice for us–sometimes so hard we want to throw a tantrum, and sometimes it shows us our heart.

May we all say, “Please, God, increase my faith! Increase my trust!”

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS!

Sep27

It all began about three years ago, when a question popped into my mind, and I had no idea where to find the answer. Do things like that bother you? Today, three years later, we all have a standard comment to anything like that: “Google it.” In fact, I’ve gotten so used to writing ‘google’ that I recently tried to write a listing to sell some goggles, and misspelled it about 5 times. Eventually it came out right. But things have changed in the past three years, so the question continued to nag me. Can you think of something similar? Really drives you nuts, doesn’t it?

Mine wasn’t even a life or death question. Just curiosity. It reminded me of my mom, who was filled with an insatiable appetite to voice curious questions: we would drive by men working in a ditch; “what do you think they’re doing?” she would ask. I could list fifty pages of examples. Finally, I would just say, “Would you like me to stop and ask?” She didn’t recognize loving sarcasm. Too bad. The questions drove me crazy. (Now, I’d love to hear her ask one–so watch what you wish for).

As I was reading the New Testament those three years ago, suddenly I wondered, Why did the disciples ask Jesus to teach them to pray? It’s not as if praying was a unique once-in-a-lifetime happening! It had been going on since the beginning of time. But why did they ask that? I turned to a few learned men. One answer was “Well, they were with the Son of God! Wouldn’t you want to know His thoughts on what constitutes a pray that satisfies Him?” That was in mid-summer of last year. I had been dealing with it about a year and half.

Finally I knew what I wanted to do! Each year as I read the Bible through, I try to do so with a central goal, so that the chapters do not get tedious. But when the idea came to me, I could hardly wait for the year to end, so that I could begin again at Genesis and write down every prayer or reference to praying that was in the Old Testament. Since there was no “New Testament” when the disciples asked, there was no need to go further at that point. Eventually January came, and I got my notebook out! It was amazing. There were prayers that were heartfelt, some that were mundane, but there were also long periods when men did not seem to commune with God. When I got to the Psalms, although I haven’t documented this yet, there seemed to be a prayer for every emotion man feels, or any need he has! All the disciples had to do, I thought, was go back to the scrolls in the temple, and they could have at their fingertips the greatest and least of all the prayers recorded in Scripture. So I still didn’t have the answer to my question.

Okay, it’s now the end of September. I’m finishing the major prophets, so I won’t be done by December. But suddenly, last night, I knew why it had been bothering me, and why–after immersing myself in the OT prayers–I was trying to quench this thirst. It wasn’t about the disciples at all: it was about me.

A month ago War Room, the movie, came out. It hit me between the eyes. In the mirror of the faith portrayed by the character Clara, my prayer life was worse than wood, hay and stubble! I was able to identify with the main character like she was my sister. Ouch! Afterwards, I wanted to see it again–and again. I bought the novel, the journal, the Bible Study book, and the personal study book. But it wasn’t until I saw it again that I realized, God wants me to make a War Room. I’ve been, as Clara says, fighting the wrong enemy! I’ve been lax and unfaithful in my prayers, and God was preparing my heart for this moment. He was paving the ground, building a foundation of the OT saints who sought Him in prayer, and at the same time men–the Kendrick Brothers–were making a movie that would stir my heart to surrender my prayer life to Him completely. It was an awesome, God-struck moment, and the wonder of it has stayed with me. That I am able to look back for nearly three years, seeing Him calling my heart toward fervent prayer, is incredible. Do you understand why? Because He wants me to deepen the relationship with Him; to trust Him to the point that whatever the trial, He’s got it; that the problems that come–and they will come–can be carried to Him and I can KNOW He has my back, my good, and is working His purpose out. It’s not just coincidence despite what man may say, but the Creator of the universe who wants a relationship with His child.

How humbling! My first thoughts, after realizing what I had seen, were “where in my house can I have a War Room”? I would go claustrophobic in my closet (we don’t have walk-in’s). And then last night it hit me, and I have a perfect small room, a perfect old desk, even a matching chair that I almost threw out! He has prepared the table before me, and it is in the presence of my enemy–and your enemy–Satan! The real enemy of our soul who has come to kill, steal, and destroy. Kill our relationships, steal our joy, and destroy our homes and children! It hasn’t been any other enemy, and yet I have fought battles uselessly. Christ has been the Lord of our home, but I tried to help Him manage. He doesn’t want or need my help, He only wants my prayers.

I pray I can let Him do it all now. What an awesome, amazing God we serve!

SANTA STEALS MY THUNDER!

Jul13

The clock was about to strike midnight. Everything was dark except for one small candle, and no sounds were heard unless you count the sweat running down a back. Even the scurry of possible mice wasn’t audible, and the falling snow outside muffled the sounds of any traffic that might be on the road. Everyone was in their “nightcaps,” in bed asleep. Finally, putting the last screw into the board and silently inserting the Phillips screwdriver, dad tightened the little dolly bed–wishing he could go crawl into his big one. There was still one more toy to be assembled and the gifts under the tree would be finished. The small Christmas plate that held a chocolate chip cookie beside a tall glass of milk was ready in its place. Dad glanced at his watch, hoping to get at least four hours of sleep before four excited children ran downstairs to see what Santa had left. He tried not to think about the money spent, the time lost in assembling toys, and just be happy that he had checked everything off their small lists.

Dad didn’t get grumpy, but as he finished his task he couldn’t help but think of the “glory” that “Santa” would get in the morning as his children saw their gifts! It’s quite unfair, he thought! They should know that he and their mom loved them far more than some “mystical” person who had attributes including flying all over the entire world in one night, delivering toys. They should get the credit for the toys! Why had they taught them this? But being tired, knowing his thoughts came from exhaustion, he put them aside, finished, and went to bed.

So, you ask, what’s the point? Every story should have a moral, right? Truthfully I’ve always hated the idea of Santa, simply because children in single parent homes are at the mercy of strangers who don’t know them, or Angel Tree gifts–which are great, of course, but how many children get nothing? How do they feel? Here it is, a hot July day, and I’m frustrating over Santa. Good grief.

My point is, often the true giver of our gifts is never recognized. How many wonderful things happen to us and we don’t stop to think where they came from? A narrow escape from a near-accident with the car; a visit from a friend; a kind word from a stranger? And have you ever thought about how many things would take off as ideas to be embellished or considered worthy of the masses if they were written in any book besides the Bible? James, chapter 1, tells us that “EVERY good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of Lights, in Whom there is no shadow of turning.” And we call it luck, chance, or being in the right place at the right time.

An illustration in point: I have missed my mom exceedingly these past several months. Not as the person she became in dementia, but as the person I talked to most of my life. She was, for sure, my best friend. Maybe she didn’t always understand me, but she loved me, just as she loved my sister to the end. I often ask God if He will tell her I said “Hello,” and maybe tell her how much I miss her, but that I’m so happy every time I think of her happiness in the presence of the Lord. (“To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8) Two nights ago I dreamed of her–it seemed like a long dream. It wasn’t a dream of her body with dementia, but the person I had known. It was a GIFT from my loving heavenly Father almost like a visit. I woke, not feeling sad that she wasn’t there, but glad that I had had a time of being “with her” in her former state.

“Oh, that’s crazy,” you might say. We dream based on things that are happening in our lives. True. But this was a “good and perfect gift” of a visit with my mom. It was wonderful to hear her voice in the dream, and see her happy in whatever situation the dream held–I don’t even recall it. All I know is, my God gave me a time of remembering my mom so that I enjoyed her, and loved her.

I don’t want to attribute that to a “Santa-like” coincidence, chance, exhaustion, or anything else except the God who watches over me. Why should He not get credit for the great things He does for us?

Thank You, Father, for the gifts You give me.

Love, Your child.

IMPATIENCE: A LESSON IN JUDGING!

Apr20

Waking up, stretching, yawning… all of a sudden you ask yourself, “Where am I?!!” Then it all comes flooding back: the telephone call, the quick packing, the trip, and you’re waking in a motel room. You glance outside and see flowers. Everything looks beautiful. But something is missing. What is it? Then reality hits you: someone you loved has left the earth. You will leave here in a couple of days, and go back home, with only memories.

We’ve all gone through a similar experience, haven’t we? Perhaps not that, but close. I recall coming out of a Belk store many years ago (when my mind was sharp!!), and with all the Belk stores laid out the same, for a moment I had a true panic thought, ” What city am I in?!” Too much traveling, too much change, too quickly.

And so today I “wake up,” not having been asleep, but the fog from the concussion is leaving and I am able to function close to normal. Perhaps not at 100%, but enough that this page is now being written–the outcome of weeks when the mere thought was ‘too much.’ Been there? Overwhelmed by a thought of taking on a task? Yeah, me, too.

S0, congratulations! You are now back on track, you say. Who knows? Is there really a track? I know God showed me a lesson this morning, which is the first in weeks. Not that He hasn’t been there, just that I’ve been too far down to care. Does that shock you? Yes, Christians get there. Just like non-believers. Just like you, maybe.

And so God showed me a piece of my heart this morning: life has changed this year! Do you know there’s a “syndrome” for everything? Look up RHS–it’s a syndrome. I’m a victim. After a lifetime of being at home, raising kids, mowing yards, keeping the house clean, blah, blah, blah, my husband retired. (Retired Husband Syndrome). It should be RSS, because it can/is the same for husbands who have worked from home and then the wife retires. So far I have yet to meet someone who cannot relate, man or woman, when this happens. Love has nothing to do with it. Space has everything to do with it.

Suddenly, there’s someone in your space. You’ve been alone–or with kids–and were used to noises, and identified them mentally, and categorized them. Now it’s a new set of noises. There’s no “quiet time.” He says, “But I go to McDonald’s every morning for breakfast!” Sometimes he says he goes so he can have bacon, other times he says it’s to give me time when I’m by myself. Either way it’s the same, life is interrupted. Picky, picky, picky, you’re thinking. Your time will come. Believe me.

I notice so many changes, being with him constantly. He’s retired… that means no schedule, very few commitments, very few real responsibilities except of his own making. Yet his driving is beginning to create ulcers in my stomach. If someone is in front of him at the drive-thru window, move quickly. If the person at the red light doesn’t go, he fumes. Turn right on red, for crying out loud, it’s the rule in almost all states! I’d rather we took two cars.

I need to go to the post office; when? Who cares? Well, he just wants some idea. I don’t care, as long as it’s before 6 o’clock! Want to go to the gym? Sure? When? Who cares, you’re retired! No, Mr. Impatience wants a time. Why? I’m the one working!

He has taken over the grass cutting, which is good, since I began a hobby from home that has become a monster that is eating me alive. I want out. I dream of running away, but did it once and it created billions of problems I never want to see again. I dream of getting a job outside the home, but couldn’t make the pay I need. I just want out of my present dilemma and there are several ways it can happen. And so every day I beg God, please, let me out! I almost got out by death (that should have showed me right there He’s not ready for me), I’ll take terminal illness (would I really?), just GET ME OUT. And He hasn’t. Not yet. So my impatience grows and has become a tangible, breathing, living force in my life, driving down the joy, peace, and all that. All because I’ve gotten myself in a pickle I am helpless to get out of.

As I was pouring my first mug of coffee this morning, I suddenly saw my constant beseeching God to do something, and please, do it now, as the same type impatience my husband displays behind the wheel of the car. Other drivers are out of his control. My work is out of my control. He wants them to move NOW. I want God to fix my problem NOW. Don’t you hate it when God shows you your own heart? I do.

What to do? Everything. Confess that the things that are driving me up a wall with my husband are things that are in my own heart toward God. Realize my husband spent his whole life working for the money to let me stay home and raise kids–now he deserves his time. Trust God to move in a way that I will recognize is best when it happens. Trust Him that He has my back, and will give me strength. Trust Him that if He can SPEAK words–or THINK them–the world comes into being or a person is healed, then He can change my circumstances if it’s the best thing for me at this time. Trust—don’t fear. Perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18), and FEAR IS TORMENT. Yikes, do we all know that?

Need encouragement? Go to http://www.trbc.org, and listen to the sermon for Sunday, April 19. Besides being a blessing on trust, you’ll hear Charles Billingsley sing “A Midnight Cry,” and yes, we’ll all be going home. Praise God–no more of this world’s garbage and impatience.

Father, You who loves me with a love I don’t understand, forgive my impatience as I beg You to lighten my load; give me strength for the race that is before me. Thank You for showing me that my impatience is no different than that of my husband, and no sin is greater than another–they’re all wrong in Your sight. Help me remember these lessons, Lord. And thank You for the resurrection power You’ve made available to all of us. Amen

Photo © Steve Sharp | Dreamstime Stock Photos

SHE DIDN’T FEEL A THING…

Feb20

The cops were gentle with the victim’s family, assuring them over and over that their daughter had not realized the impact was coming, and had, in fact, felt nothing. I listened, but could not comprehend. How could they know this was true? How did the girl not feel that moment of death? And how can they equate it to a “twinkling of an eye”?

Well, yesterday I found out that their words are actually true. No, that isn’t my car–for those of you who know me. And I’m not dead, by the grace of God. Apparently He isn’t finished with me yet. But what I didn’t know yesterday, I know today. And what “the twinkling of an eye” meant to me two days ago, has a different meaning now. And if it’s any comfort to you and to anyone you know who has been told that someone “did not feel anything,” they are right. And that should bring great comfort.

I was walking on a treadmill, something I’ve done hundreds of times before. And yes, plenty of times I’ve lost a second where I have to double-step in order to be sure I haven’t gone back too far. Nothing you haven’t done, if you’ve ever been on a treadmill. This is no horror story–it’s just how quickly life can change.

I was at 3.5 mph, finishing the first mile when the person next to me spoke to me, breaking my concentration. I was on the treadmill, walking, one nanno-second, and the next I was on my back, several feet away. I was told that my head impacting the concrete floor was so loud that almost everyone in the gym heard it, as it sounded like a bowling ball had hit the floor. And because I didn’t die, I felt pain. But the result could have been so different, and has been for so many people. Yet the incomprehensible thing to me was that there was no time factor between being on the treadmill and laying on the ground.

Later, in the hospital, I realized what the people who try to give comfort to families of victims actually mean: that the victim really didn’t feel anything, Had I died on impact, I wouldn’t have had any realization of doing so–I just would have been in the next life. One breath in this life, normal, the next breath no longer in this life. That was an amazing truth. And how long did it take? For sure, the “twinkling of an eye.” I don’t ever remember anything in my life happening with such “speed”–and no pun is intended. One breath I’m in one place, the next breath I’m in another. That’s how death will be.

This isn’t meant to be gory, depressing, or yukky. This is a piece of comfort that I can now offer to others who have had a loved one killed instantly, and who have carried a weight that their family member suffered. No, don’t add that weight to your shoulders, you already have enough hurt just from having lost them. But if the cops tell you they didn’t suffer, believe them. They didn’t.

For me, today, there is much suffering. I have a concussion that feels like my head is a beach ball, and turning my eyes hurts. The impact was so hard that rather than a gash, there were “explosions” where the skin erupted in several places, all bleeding with that uncanny way the head has of doing it so much worse than almost any other part of your body. The sound of the staple gun is something that may take a while to forget, but eventually it will fade! My head feels like I’m on a merry-go-round, going 100 mph if I change positions. But I’m alive, and will be fine. That’s a blessing I can’t ignore.

But there’s another lesson as well, of course, and that is that life can end that quickly. What if I hadn’t made my peace with God? When someone stands before Him, will anger, bitterness, unfairness, unbelief be a reason for God to excuse them? No, and you know it full well. And if you don’t believe, will that change things? No, of course not. Because what if you’re wrong? What if there is a God? What if He is holding you responsible? As I’ve said before, there are no parties in hell.

Don’t wait for a nanno-second to separate you from this world before you get things right, ok?

Father, thank You for sparing me yesterday. Thank You for the lesson learned so that others can be comforted about loved ones who were unaware of their transition. Help me make my days useful, please Lord, and not waste my time here. Amen

WIDENING MY PATH…

Feb13

The road was against the mountain on the left, but on the right it went down hundreds and hundreds of feet, with nothing to hold a car back from going over the edge. There was only room for one car, but Daddy still hugged the right hand side–more to scare me than because he had to. I sat as close to the door on the side toward the mountain as was possible, hoping to balance the car toward the mountain–just in case. I just knew that any second we would go over the edge, down those hundreds of feet to the ravine at the bottom, and never be heard from again.

Coming back was no less frightening. When Daddy’s business was finished, we would come down much faster than we had gone up. The turns were called “hairpin,” named after the quaint bent piece of thin metal that kept a woman’s hair in place. Daddy used to say it was because you could see the back of your car as your front was going around the curve. Like childbirth pains, you hardly were out of one curve before heading into the next one. Once he saw tire tracks going straight. He stopped the car and we got out, and–huddled together–looked over the edge. There, caught in trees way down the mountain, lay a large truck. Was the driver still alive? Could he have gotten out? We had no way of knowing. Telephones were just being invented, and one had to go into a town to send help.

Daddy wanted to teach me courage, I guess. It didn’t work. To this day West Virginia mountain roads scare me to death. They all had names: Dovel Holler, Piney Ridge, Boone’s Trail. But the narrow, winding roads were nothing compared to the footbridge that connected my Grandma’s house with Daddy’s sister. He would go across, then stand at the end, holding on to the (excuse for) sides. “Come on,” he would say; “you can make it!” I couldn’t. Fear took up residence inside me that made me break out into sweat. It was horrible. I could feel the bridge sway, and trying to stay away from the broken boards as I took a step was a challenge. Without a doubt he thought he was teaching me to trust him. I don’t know why the lessons didn’t take, but when I got older, I transferred the same lack of trust to God. I could have the faith that He had gone to a cross for me, but I didn’t know that He would have my back all the days of my life–even those that I messed up worse than anyone in my family had ever done before.

Somewhere along the line, one has to wrestle with the truth. I am constantly challenged to walk a footbridge with God at the other side saying “Come on, My child, I’m right here.” And I have to decide, if He’s big enough to speak the world into being, out of nothing, and big enough to speak life into existence, is He not big enough to honor His promises to care for me? But look what He let me go through, you say. You’re right. He did not make us puppets on a string, for where would be the quality in a relationship like that? He lets us sin if we choose, even though the consequences will be so big they may choke the life out of us. But He has promised so much more if we try to live as He desires us to. Did you know He will WIDEN THE PATH?

I would have been so much more confident if my daddy had said, “Sit right there while I make this road twice as wide!” Or, “Stay right there while I lay 2x6x8′ boards on this footbridge, so you don’t have to worry!” But he didn’t do that. But God does. II Samuel 22:37 tells me, “You enlarged my path under me, so my feet did not slip!” He is taking care of us, enlarging our paths, so that we don’t have to worry about falling! Awesome thought! The next time I think I cannot walk the path He has for me, like Daddy did, I will try to remember that MY God is capable of widening the path, so that I don’t have to worry about falling off. He just wants my trust, and desires that I know He will be there for me. Recognition of who He really is, and that He still cares for us, is an awesome, amazing, unfathomable concept to process with our finite minds! May we do so with confidence in His promises!

Father, I so often forget to consciously remember that You spoke the world into being, that You healed the sick, released the prisoners, and are still doing so today. Help me to trust You, to remember that You are not a man like us that we can figure out, order around, treat like a genii, but You are the God of the universe Who is trustworthy yet loving, just yet merciful, and waiting for us to call on You. Amen

REFLECTIONS OF REFLECTIONS!

Jan21

It was so easy to tell this was a house where Death had come. There were numerous cars lining the country driveway, most with out-of-state license plates. People were coming and going, obviously bringing food and seeking to help. The elderly man who had passed away was several states removed from the place of his birth.

Not long before the viewing on the evening before the funeral, the doorbell rang. On the stoop stood two middle-aged men, dressed nicely, wearing somber expressions. I looked at their faces, and immediately said “I don’t know who you are, but you are obviously near relatives of my father!” The resemblance was amazing, to be a generation removed.

It reminded me of a time when our youngest son was less than a year old. A visitor at church had dropped off his little daughter, and entered the sanctuary. After the service I heard someone greet him, and as he spoke, he added, “I don’t know anything about that baby boy in the nursery, but I can tell you, that was his father up in the choir!” He was right.

That type of comment makes one realize that as we go into the world, calling ourselves Christians, people look at us but do not know us at all. Yet when they see our face, can they tell that we belong to God? We should have such a close relationship to Him that it shows in our face. In Acts 4:13 Peter and John were preaching, and confounding many. Luke writes, “Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated and untrained men, they marveled. And they realized that they [Peter and John] had been with Jesus.” The association was obvious in their faces.

Proverbs 13:20 reminds us how important it is that we choose our friends carefully: “He who walks with wise men will be wise, But the companion of fools will be destroyed.” It is our testimony and our reputation that is at stake when we run with fools. God is not glorified, and Christ is not honored. One apple, the Bible says, will rot the whole bag! One potato, left in that plastic bag on the floor, will soon ruin the good potatoes that it touched.

This new year has hardly begun, but it’s not too late to get a relationship with God back where it should be. If you’re afraid to set the alarm, pray that God will wake you 15 minutes early, so you can read His word before leaving for work. And when He does, since you have prayed, get up, get your coffee or Coke, and spend some time with Him.

The biggest thrill of your life should be that you hear someone say, “That man has to be a Christian–he looks just like what I’ve imagined Jesus to look like!” Wouldn’t that be something wonderful?

Father, You truly are our father. When we’ve had earthly dads who have disappointed us, we have sometimes given those attributes to You. Or when things didn’t go the way we thought, we blamed You. Help us to see through the pain and troubled times that You are a constant companion, loving and kind, doing the best for us. Help us spend so much time talking to You, Father, that we begin to look like You. In Christ Jesus, Amen

LOOKING BACK, LOOKING AHEAD

Dec29

The woods were so frightening! Was that a giant black widow in the web above my head? Maybe a bear was behind the tree, or even a skunk. The loaded gun felt weird tucked under my right arm and balanced with my left hand, and knowing it was ready to shoot caused me fear also. I had always heard that Indians could walk so softly that no one could tell they were in the woods, so I tried my best to make no sound. Behind me, in single file, my grandpa and grandma were also walking quietly. My grandpa must love me a lot, I reasoned, to take me hunting for the first time in my life, and let me lead the way! If I got off the trail at all, he would whisper a quiet encouragement to guide me left or right, back to the trail. I didn’t have to look back to know he was there; for one thing, he was my Grandpa and would never leave me alone in this fearsome place! For another, his quiet words of command to stay on the path, though like a gentle whisper, were evidence that he was there. I didn’t know which was greater, my fear, my excitement, or my pride.

That happened more years ago that most anyone who reads this can conceive, yet I can still feel that experience as though it happened yesterday. I was maybe eight years old, but he gave me such a gift that day as he did what no one else had ever done: he showed he trusted me to handle a gun, lead our way, and listen for his voice.

Now, so many decades later, it is the end of another year and a time to look back at this past twelve months. Did you walk an unknown path, knowing your heavenly Father was behind you, never leaving you, or did you doubt His faithfulness? His still, small voice is a command to our heart if we are about to get off the path; did you listen for it? Sometimes it is a red flag of warning if you don’t want to listen–it probably means you want to do you own thing! Did you act in a manner that He found faithful to His wishes? If so, you have done well.

Some days I feel like that eight-year-old, ready to take on the world. Other days, I feel a hundred and twenty, dreading to put one foot in front of the other! But one thing I know, every day has something to teach me. There is not a day that goes by that I do not discover something new. And because of that, I can look forward to 2015 knowing that I still have so much to learn: so much about Jesus, so much about myself, and so much about what my purpose is in living. He has plans and a purpose for me, Jeremiah wrote, and I find it only by being in the center of His will.

You may be thinking, not me. Nope, not after the mistakes I’ve made. Not after the way I messed up last year. Not after the sins I committed, when I flagrantly yelled at Him, “Let me do this on my own!” Yet Isaiah 57:15 tells us, “For thus says the High and Lofty One Who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: ‘I dwell in the high and holy place, with him who has a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.'” There is such hope for the backslider! All you need is a humble spirit of sorrow for what you did when you got off the right path, confess it to Him (1 John 1:9), and you are forgiven! You can start 2015 out with a clean record! How much better can it get?

Do you have goals for 2015? It seems only once in a great while that a “New Year’s Resolution” is actually kept for the year. But a goal, ah–that’s different. That’s a commitment to stay on the path that God has for you, so that you can be more like Him. What does that look like, to be like Him? Do you actually hunger and thirst to be righteous? Do you want to let others go before you? Do you mind if someone gets credit for what you’ve done? Do you let someone else have the last word? Do you love others more than you love yourself? Yikes. That stabs. Do you keep the church’s sticker off your back windshield so that if you cut someone off in traffic, they won’t know which church you attend? My license plate says “EL EWE.” LU. I know that no matter how I drive, someone is going to recognize that I am associated in some manner with a certain university and church, and that God’s reality in my life shows in my driving. Ouch. It causes me to drive better, I will say that!

So what about 2015? Can we make some commitments that we will handle this year better than 2014? That we won’t waste as much money, perhaps eat healthier to keep our temple in better condition, that we’ll treat our family as we treat our boss, etc? We could fill up a dozen pages. But let’s go back to a few posts to the “Do Not Fear” and pull out the two greatest commandments: Love the Lord with all that we are, and love our neighbor as much as we love ourselves. We can reduce our huge list to two things. And we can trust Him to be behind us every step of the way, whispering if we start to get off track, and loving us. What a God to walk with in the next year!

Holy Father, how we fail You, but how faithful You remain! Your word tells us that even when we are unfaithful, You stay faithful to us. You are willing to save anyone who calls on You, but how can they call unless they hear? And how will they hear unless we tell them? Give us boldness and courage to know You have our back, have ordained our path, and are accompanying us ever step. We love You, Lord. Thank You for the cross. Amen

The Gift of Christmas

Dec23

The car was packed with Christmas presents we had so lovingly gathered: a wooden board with a Bible verse painstakingly burned into it by our son, something “crazy quilted” with scraps of fabric from our young daughter to her Grandmother, and new things I had found at garage sales or clearance sales during the year. The gas money had been counted to the penny: $48.03. In the 1980’s, that should get us home for Christmas.

We had so many needs for that $48, but going to N.C. from FL. seemed more important than any of them. We knew my dad would give us $20 toward the trip back–he always did–and just being with my parents for a few days meant we would eat well. Going to their home represented a time of leaning on parents again!

Christmas morning dawned beautiful and sunny. The chance of snow in eastern North Carolina wasn’t great but we had hoped. With children, gifts come first, so away to the tree we went. Mother and Daddy needed none of the presents we brought, but acted so glad to get everything. Daddy’s annual traditional gift was a $1 box of chocolate covered cherries, but he acted as pleased as if it was the first time he had gotten them!

It was now my turn. Mother handed me a card. When I opened it, I found it was a check made out for $1,000.00. I could not believe what I was seeing. Then, for the first time I ever remember, I burst into tears as the reality of her gift hit me. I can still see the memory of opening that card, and the wonderful gift from my folks, which we so desperately needed.

Undoubtedly you have a special Christmas you could tell about as well. For all of us at least one Christmas stands out above all others, when our joy was over the roof or emotions, like mine, could not be contained. Did you ever wonder how God felt the night Jesus was born? No, it wasn’t December 25, but the night had a date, and the Gift was given. Did God feel joy? Anguish at what would come? Did He celebrate as the angel announced the birth? What would it have been like for Mary and Joseph to watch as shepherds drew near to worship the tiny Babe who lay so miraculously in her arms?
Have you ever looked–really looked–at people as you pass, and see them smelly, cursing, acting in ways that are despicable to you, and then think that if you could save even some of them, you would give your son’s life? I have. I couldn’t. My love is not great like God’s love. What amazing, unfathomable love that would give the gift of your only Son to enemies! When my son was deployed, I used to hear people openly insulting the military, the men who were fighting, and I wanted to shout at them that MY son was out there, putting his life on the line so they could scream their obscenities. What a heart of love God has–for the whole world.

Do you care about that baby in the manger? Has it occurred to you that if He had not grown up and gone to the Cross, His birth would not be celebrated? He came for a purpose, He lived His purpose for His Father’s glory, and then was killed. Satan must have felt he had won. What must he have felt when his minions reported on that third day that Jesus was alive again? Did he fly to the tomb to see also? He must have ground his teeth that the Christ he had thought was dead was alive again! Appearing to so many, with testimony from witnesses all over Jerusalem, it could not be discounted.

So–what is the best gift you ever received? Well, if you believe that Jesus Christ was God, come in human flesh, and have accepted His gift of eternal life then you have definitely received the greatest gift that could ever be had. And what if you don’t believe yet? What is holding you back? The shepherds, when they heard the news, immediately said “Let us go..and see.” It was a step of faith for them. It needs to be a step of faith for anyone. If you haven’t taken it, please consider doing so. It is a gift that is being held out–just for you.

Thank You for the Christ-child, dear Father; for loving the world enough that You would send Your only Son, so that anyone–ANYONE–who believes on Him does not have to stand condemned, but can have eternal life. Thank You for the Cross, Lord. Thank You that all–ALL–our sins were nailed to it with a big stamp of “Paid In Full” for those who believe. Call our unsaved loved ones to You, please Lord, before it’s eternally too late for them. In Christ, Amen

HOPEFUL OR HOPELESS?

Dec18

She was young, finishing high school, and so in love! Her boyfriend had joined the Armed Services, and she put her time in waiting for him to return. But while waiting, someone stepped in, and her mom told her she needed to marry. With dread, buckets of tears, with no skills for housekeeping, hygiene or parenting, she did as her mom said. When children came, she thought every act of defiance was because she was a bad mom. Finally, she broke. Not taking the children because she didn’t know how she would feed them, she left for a few days. But she was stopped from going back, and it was only one full day until she realized, bad mother or not, her kids were her life. One year, then two, passed. She couldn’t get her children back, and there was no hope. Jobs were scarce, and life was an endless tunnel of pain. Every child she saw was hers, and to see someone hurt a child was beyond pain. Finally, knowing life would always be this way, she bought two big bottles of sleeping pills and took them all, then laid down on her bed. The next morning she woke in ICU. Someone had found her. The nurse bustled over. “I see you’re awake! We lost you so many times last night, they were ready to give up!” What she thought was great news, made the girl go further into depression. When you’re on the bottom and can’t even control death, a new low comes into your life. That is hopelessness.

The pastor spoke quietly. “Everyone falls into one of two categories” he said. “You are either hopeful, or you are hopeless.” What a truth! Although most could only grasp the words on a superficial level, I knew there would be many in the huge congregation who understood exactly what he was saying. I knew of a woman who lived with such verbal abuse that I was amazed she had not turned to alcohol or drugs to kill the pain; another leads the life of wife to a womanizer, as the term is; another’s husband is so wrapped up in pornography that he allows his child to see it; and so many more horrific situations. Do you fall into any of these? Why does the victim stay? Because, although the life seems hopeless to us, there is a tiny flame inside that “hopes” a miracle will happen and they will some day escape.

On the other hand, there are families where everything seems to be great. The women lead useful, stay-at-home lives, caring for the children and home, and Dad brings home enough that the income covers the outgo, with some left. They have tons of hope! Where did the original road start? In their parents’ home? In their wise choices?

I know a girl who married someone who was Romeo and Sir Lancelot rolled into one! That is, until the morning of the marriage when he said, “I can’t go through with this.” Everyone figured “cold feet.” For over twenty years he has abused her verbally in front of the children, with words that no woman should have to hear. But she, like the girl in the opening true story, had no skills, and couldn’t take the children. Another young lady came to me to talk: she had married her “sweetheart” almost two years before. She is a Christian, and he supposedly was as well. However, when she came, she broke down as she admitted that the night of their marriage, he had rolled on his side and gone to sleep. In almost eighteen months, he had not consummated the marriage. There was no marriage, and I felt she had every right to get out. She did, and eventually married again. She and her pastor husband have two beautiful children, and I think of her often.

But there’s the flip side: the ones for whom no bell tolls, no tunnels end, and life is more than they can cope with. To end it seems so much the better, and they do.

Where, then, is the hope? We who know Jesus Christ as Lord know the scriptures that tell us He came to this world as a babe, because there was no other way to redeem lost mankind. He had to live among us, talk our language and live with us in order to reach us. And He did. He is the “hope of the world; the hope of all mankind; the hope of the Gentiles; the God of Hope” and many, many more! We have assurance that this life is temporary, that the trials here are because people prefer to choose their own way, rather than listen to the Creator God. He is our Hope, our Peace, and breaks every barrier down. No, life will not be a bed of roses–in fact, I can’t imagine more things more uncomfortable that laying in a bed of roses! Ouch! But neither can I imagine anymore a life where He will not take the useless and base things of this world, and turn them into something beautiful if we ask. The Bible tells us that He will give us “Beauty for ashes.” “The oil of joy for mourning.” How can one not “hope” with promises like that from the God whose promises have not failed yet? But you have to seek Him to find Him, and draw near to Him, so that He draws near to you. He will not force His presence where it is not wanted.

Hope for the Hopeless… He is!

Father, thank You for Your promise of hope for a fallen world. We cannot change our government, our parents, our intelligence, even our race or our appearance, but we can change the way we view You, view life, and we can hold fast to the way we trust You. You have promised wisdom to those who ask it, Lord, and for Christmas, I ask for wisdom to share the hope that lies within me–hope for a better tomorrow. Amen