PATIENCE AND THE END OF THE WORLD

May 31st could have been “it.”  I remember going to the gym midday, which is a favorite activity on the Fridays I don’t spend in the office.  I was doing cardio, so I plugged in my earbuds and tuned to the news.  I heard the newscaster say that there was a huge asteroid in the vicinity of earth.  There was a slim chance it would enter earth’s atmosphere, and an even smaller chance it would land on earth. If it did it would destroy everything within 200 miles, severely damage everything within 1000 miles, and the dust cloud emanating from such a collision would block the sun from the earth for a time sufficient enough for everything and everyone else to die. And, have a great day!

Several things came to mind as I was listening to this.  First of all, to actually hear news people saying this, and not some kooks on a late night radio show, was surreal.  Then I wondered about how real the threat could be if the powers that be allowed this to be on national news.  Would there be widespread panic if the public knew how close we are to the end of the world, really? And I thought of my Dad.  Dad believed in the biblical teaching of Christ’s return: that He could come back at any moment, and that when He returned, He would gather all true believers to Himself and judge the world in a period of time often referred to as “the Tribulation.”  Following this time of judgment and cleansing, Christ would set up His thousand year reign on the earth, which will be a prelude to the new heaven and earth spoken of in Revelation. My Dad and many Christians in his generation lived in expectation that the day of Christ’s return would be any day. I hated that kind of talk.

I didn’t want Jesus to come back! I wanted to go to high school, then I wanted to go to college, then get married, then have children.  Funny, now that I have children I’d be happy for Jesus to return any day... today would be the best day!

Here’s the tragedy... I wanted all these experiences before Jesus returned... Wouldn’t it have been better for me to have said something like...

I didn’t want Jesus to come back! I was praying for some family members to come back to Him before His return.  I was sharing my faith with a few friends that never knew the Lord.  I was looking for ways to serve Him overseas.  Yes, that would be better - if it were true.

So, here I was on the treadmill realizing that there was enough probability that the world could end in a few hours that it was legitimate national news.  I began thinking of this Scripture:

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. (2 Peter 3:8-9)

There is one explanation for the end of the world not happening on May 31 or any other day it does not happen: the patience of God.  His purpose is to bring us and anyone else who will call on Him into His kingdom.  His plan is to use anything He can to wake us up and realize that we need Him.

And why does He put up with a humanity that constantly shakes its fist at Him, scorns His grace and rejects His Son?  He is patient, that’s why - He is fixed on His purpose and plan which is ruled by His love... for...you.

I don’t often think of patience in this way.  I think of patience as something I have to conjure up while I’m waiting for that last bit of makeup to be applied before leaving for that commitment for which we are already late.  I feel the need to be patient when I’m waiting for a task to be done after asking five times - in plain English - that it be done.  I feel gratitude when others are patient with me when I don’t understand things the first time I hear them. But I don’t often consider that patience is a character trait of God Himself... as such, as I grow in Him, I can rest assured that patience will grow in me.

Even though I know that patience is part of the fruit of the Spirit, I often joke that I don’t believe in praying for patience because I have always disliked the means by which that prayer has been answered in my life.  God doesn’t have to develop patience like I do - His is perfect - but as I consider what makes me impatient compared to the exponentially more egregious things that might test His patience (if His patience can be tested), it makes me stand in awe of Him.

And, even though I’m not praying for patience, perhaps I should begin to pray that my reasons for gratitude for His patience line up with His purposes and plans, and not my own.  May I get off the treadmill and onto the trail that is leading me and all of us toward wholeness in Him.  Praise God for patience!

Joy, Anyone?

April often brings welcome springtime rain here in the central valley of California. Nearly every time I hear rain fall, I think of a song from a record (a vinyl record!) that my parents played for me when I was little.  It was an album recorded by the “Medical Mission Sisters” – I think that music from nuns was welcomed in our very Protestant home due to the popularity of The Sound of Music, but I digress.  The song is called “Joy Is Like The Rain.” 

Joy for Christians, like rain in the central valley, can be elusive. Joy is often confused with happiness, and yet in drawing the distinction between happiness, which is emotional, and joy, which is a gift from God, we tend to make a false promise that we will always have joy.  This presents a problem when, for instance, we sense the deep sorrow of grief in which there is no joy.  Joy is independent of our feelings, yet we feel it:  deeply satisfying, full of praise and energy, even euphoric. How can we experience more joy in our lives? 

Joy is linked closely to worship.  In Psalm 33:3 we read, “Sing to Him a new song; play skillfully with a shout of joy.” (NASB)  In Colossians 3:16 we read that we should sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude in our hearts.  Gratitude cultivates joy in the heart; so worship, when focused on God and His desires can bring joy to our spirits.

Joy comes after adversity.  One of the lines in the Sisters’ song is “joy is tried by storm.”  In Psalm 30:5 we read, “Weeping may go on all night, but joy comes with the morning.” (NLT)  The psalmist expressed joy after victory was won (Psalm 27:6), and all through the Scriptures we see joy expressed in the midst of trials.  In 2 Corinthians 7:4 Paul says, “I am overflowing with joy in all our affliction”, and James invites us to consider our trials as pure joy.  Joy is a choice that we must make, even though we might not experience it at the time.

 And here’s a tough one! Jesus told us to be joyful if people mock, deride, criticize, and even act violently against us for His sake:  “Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their fathers treated the prophets.” (Luke 6:22-23, NIV)

Joy comes from the Holy Spirit.  It’s listed as the second “fruit” of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22.  So, if we’re rooted in the Spirit through the Word and prayer, we can expect that joy will be borne in our lives. Joy can be triggered by praise and dampened by self-absorption, pursuit of creature comforts, and traditionalism, among other things.

But joy – pure joy – is known in its fullness in God’s presence.  In Psalm 16:11 the psalmist writes, “You will make known to me the path of life ; In Your presence is fullness of joy ; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.” (NASB)  I hope that as you come before the Lord in worship, and as you worship through your daily life, you will pursue His presence, for that is the surest way I know to experience joy.  May He fill you with joy as you earnestly seek Him.

PUTTING HIS NAME ON IT

Today I read and listened once again to the blessing God told Aaron and his sons to give to His people.  Any time I give a Benediction for a gathering of God's people I am drawn first to this passage, because it is the first of its kind, and a direct quote from the Lord.  If I were to put it in my own words it would be something like this...

May God give you everything good, and cause you to live securely and confidently in Him.  May He shine down His radiance upon you and may you bask in His good favor.  May He turn His face toward you - near you, as a dad to his daughter or as a friend to a friend - and may His near presence in your life bring you peace.

God's "original lyrics" are recorded in Numbers 6:23-26 (NIV)

But I nver noticed what came after that...

"So they will put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them."
Numbers 6:27 (NIV)

We Christians regard every believer as a priest.  We represent Christ to one another, to our family members, and to the world around us.  We can put God's name on people!

How can I put God's name on people? By blessing them and by being a blessing! Do I have to say this blessing in order to put God's name on people? Well, no, I don't have to.  Although, to my friends who would argue that words aren't necessary, I offer this caution:  we are in a changing society that doesn't always remember that God is the supreme motivator of goodness.  Sometimes, and more and more in our culture, you need to give credit to Whom credit is due.

There is a dark side to this - religion can put its name on people, and we can put our name on people.  This can be for good or ill, intentionally or unintentionally.  But often people confuse religion's name or our name with God's Name. If a person suffered a negative experience, it's hard to not associate that with God.  If someone experienced something positive but one of our personalities got in the way and then we let them down later, that causes frustration and disenchantment. But I don't want to be about the dark side - I want to focus on the light today!

Doing good to others in Jesus' Name, saying to people, "I am praying for you," and actually praying for them, expressing generosity, and in a genuine way saying, "May the Lord bless you today," these are all ways to put God's name on people.

As I look for ways to bless others and be a blessing to them, and as I do what I find to do, I am putting God's name on them.  What a privilege and what an opportunity!

Lord, help me to grow in my understanding of what it means to put Your name on people.  Help me to be a blessing and to bless others with my words and my actions.  Let me follow more closely the pattern of Jesus Christ, Your greatest blessing to me.  In His Name I pray.  Amen.

YEAR OF DELIVERANCE: soften my heart

I don't know about anybody else, but I feel like the last few years have been years of limited growth and honestly, a bit of struggle.  Looking to the Spirit of God, I'm ready to grow, take back some lost territory, and gain new ground for the glory of God.  I'm ready for some deliverance!  What will it take for 2012 to be a year of deliverance?

Earlier today I was reading the story of Moses and Aaron going before Pharaoh and telling him to let God's people go.  There are many take-aways from this story and I could go on and lose you here, so I've listed my top three picks below.

But here's Pharaoh, king of Egypt, ruling over peace, plenty, and prosperity, and along comes Moses and Aaron saying, "Thus saith the Lord."  The Who?

"You don't get it, do you?" Pharaoh thought - and in so many words said, "I'm god here -- and you think you can tell me what to do?"

Pharaoh's stubbornness cost his people dearly.  It cost them lives that must have been lost when the Nile River turned to blood, and the disease carried by frogs, flies, and gnats.  It cost them misery in all the plagues, loss of possessions as animals died, pain through the plague of boils, and terror in the plague of darkness.  Economically, Egypt was in ruins.  Just before the locusts landed, Pharaoh's own cabinet nearly revolted saying, "Don't you realize Egypt is already in shambles?"  Their frustration level was so high they were willing to say that to the absolute ruler of the land - their own version of the Exalted, Beloved Leader.

But Pharaoh would not be moved.

The children of Israel doubted at first, blamed Moses and Aaron and nearly threw them out. 

Pharaoh wanted to throw them out, and it was probably a source of great frustration to him that he couldn't.  Just before God's final plague he told them that the next time Moses forced an audience with him, it would be his last.


Pharaoh cost himself dearly - He lost a lot politically among his inner circle, and it seems that he lost the natural admiration and respect of his people.  The people of Egypt began to side with the slaves of Israel which had long since become a major engine in their nation's economy.  They respected Moses and many of them may have desired a coup, but they didn't dare say so.

They still obeyed Pharaoh, but I imagine they did so out of fear and duty only, with no love and pride intermingled as they probably had done for Pharaoh's father and grandfather.  We know from Scripture that his hardness of heart cost him his firstborn son, whom he cherished above anything or anyone else.

A number of years ago I was walking through a very dark time in my life, and I was trying to discern what the Lord was trying to teach me.  Finally, a good friend whom I regarded as a spiritual leader in my church said to me, "You know, Andrew, sometimes God brings us through hard times to teach us things, and sometimes hard times come upon us because of the hard hearts and bad choices of people around us." 

We - I'm at the top of the "we list" - do well to consider the effects of our heart condition and the choices we make as a result of where our hearts and heads are at (sorry, Miss Bell for ending a sentence in a preposition - it's not the first nor will it be the last time!).  It can have great effect on all around us - whether they're close to us or not - whether we're aware of them or not. 

Lord, work in my heart.  Help me to be open to You - and if I hear Your voice thundered through a prophet or spoken in stillness in my heart - give me grace to recognize, listen, and immediately obey.  May my heart be softened to You and to those around me, and may my heart condition be a source of nurture, not destruction or even neutrality.  May I be a source of blessing to those closest to me all the way to those furthest away.  In the Name of Jesus I ask that by your grace this year be a year of deliverance!  Amen. 


TOP THREE TAKEAWAYS FROM EXODUS 4-11

1. How God must feel about slavery in general and government-sanctioned oppression in particluar
2. God's faithfulness in keeping His promises even though it seems like He's forgotten over hundreds of years
3. God's purposes being fulfilled even under adverse circumstances.
• I have often wondered about God's reasoning for moving Isaac and his boys to Egypt only to end in slavery three hundred year later (my chronology may be off a little...). Yet, they didn't have the resources to grow in the wilderness, and here, with the vast riches of Egypt at their disposal, the children of Israel could begin to become the nation of Israel, even in bondage. Obviously that didn't excuse Egypt and specifically Pharaoh for enslaving Israel, and that doesn't mean that slavery and oppression should be sanctioned anywhere by God's people. But, as Joseph said, "You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good."

 

 

CARELESS VESPERS

One of the great truths of Scripture that I have a hard time grasping is God’s jealousy for His people. I have to admit, the concept has become somewhat easier to grasp, though, as my daughters have gone into their teen years and become interested in boys. I remember when I was the one they were most concerned with pleasing. They laughed at my jokes. They noticed when I did special things for them. They thought about telling me first when something good or funny happened to them. I mattered.



Now old Dad has been relegated to the back seat, if he’s even allowed in the car at all. OK, so I’m overstating the “Woe is me,” stuff – but don’t tell the girls that, please! They don’t feel bad enough about this yet – nor will they, actually, until they have kids of their own (and in their case, they won’t feel it as acutely unless they have sons, right?).


I have other friends who have had similar experiences, but sadly, it’s been with their spouses, not their children… so the changes in relationship are not part of a natural progression into maturity, but they are actually betrayals as the spouse finds love in the arms of someone else. I have shared in the tears of some of these friends, have heard them express deep feelings of helplessness as they watch the affections of their spouse turn to another and have also heard them express their heartache, anger, and even jealousy.


I find myself being uncomfortable with the thought of jealousy. And jealousy can be wrong. Sometimes I struggle with jealousy… I would like to have so-and-so’s voice; he sings effortlessly and doesn’t have a big vibrato – everybody loves hearing him sing, and he can play by ear, too! Or, I wish I had so-and-so’s money! I should be as well of as he! Or, if only I had his ability to please people. Look how they fawn over him – and I do twice as much as he does; it’s not fair! Those feelings of jealousy lead to coveting and animosity – those feelings are wrong.


Yet as I reflect I realize that there is a righteous form of jealousy. I see it reflected, albeit imperfectly, in the friends that I have described above. If a relationship is rightly yours, either through blood or covenant, and you are losing that relationship to another, then jealousy can be a righteous response.


And this is the kind of jealousy God expresses for His people here in Jeremiah. It is the kind of jealousy alluded to by the writer of Hebrews. God won a relationship with the children of Israel by covenant with their father Abraham, and again by covenant made with Moses and through Moses in the giving of the Law to all the people of Israel.


In the opening lines of the ten commandments God Himself admits to this jealousy. And He instructs that there be no other gods in the picture. God is to be God alone – loved and worshiped not just as the supreme God, but as the only God. For truly, you can’t serve two gods.


So, here are God’s people – with whom He has made a lasting covenant, and whom He loves deeply – standing in His house plotting against Him. Oh, sure, they brought what they were supposed to bring – meat. But they didn’t bring the other things they were supposed to bring – the love of Him with all their heart, mind, and strength. Instead, their hearts were elsewhere, and their minds were devising ways to use their strength in the worship of another god. They had no more joy in the worship of God – the One who brought them up out of Egypt, the One who sustained their great-grandparents in the wilderness by giving them manna to eat – the One who went before them into the Promised Land and allowed them to settle there as a victorious, prosperous people.


Worshiping Him was old hat! I wonder if the priests Levites explored innovations in worship style and technology in an effort to keep the next generation engaged. Or were they becoming so enamored with false gods that they didn’t care anymore, either? I wonder if they issued surveys to make sure that everyone felt like their needs were being met in every worship service. Were the traditional worship people happy? Were the young families happy? Were the perpetually grumpy happy?


Who cares if they were happy – they were allowing their affections to drift! They were allowing themselves to find joy in wickedness; in the very thing that was most important to God. They were allowing their hearts to worship another god. They were carelessly whispering of their love for another in the house of the One for whom they should have had a fervent love. And when they left the Lord’s house, they found their trysting place at vespers in Baal’s temple and burned incense in worship to an idol.


So, God, the One who planted His people, the One who caused them to be fruitful – the One who said they were beautiful – must now uproot and reshape.


That is the depth of God’s love, that it is expressed with such holy jealousy. And, how much more right does God have to be jealous of His people of the New Covenant? He has not only made a covenant with generations past, but He draws each of His children personally into their own individual relationship with Him through the blood of His only begotten Son Jesus Christ. Because of His lavish grace, those of us who have trusted Christ for our salvation are now “His workmanship.” How much more a right does He have to be jealous for us?


How much more of a right does God have to be jealous for those who claim to be part of “the Church” – whether they have actually come to Him on the merits of His blood and righteousness or not? Would He not want a pure Bride for His Son, a Bride with complete, single-hearted love for Him?


Don’t let His jealousy for you cause you to recoil, but instead, understand that He loves you! He earnestly and perfectly desires that love be given in return, even as we imperfectly desire a return on the love investment we place in others.  Let us love Him supremely, obey Him completely and worship Him solely (give Him "sole worship").

15 "What is My beloved doing in My temple as she works out her evil schemes with many? Can consecrated meat avert [your punishment]? When you engage in your wickedness, then you rejoice." 16 The LORD called you a thriving olive tree with fruit beautiful in form. But with the roar of a mighty storm He will set it on fire, and its branches will be broken. 17 The LORD Almighty, who planted you, has decreed disaster for you, because the house of Israel and the house of Judah have done evil and provoked Me to anger by burning incense to Baal.

- Jeremiah 12:15-17

“He is jealous for me… loves like a hurricane, I am a tree…”

- “How He Loves”; John Mark McMillan

“…Let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably in reverence and awe, for ‘Our God is a consuming fire.’”

- Hebrews 11:28b & 29

“Cast every idol from its throne, for Christ is God, and Christ alone: To God all praise and glory.”

 - “Sing Praise To God Who Reigns Above”; Johann J. Schutz

Post-Father's Day thoughts

I am thankful that we made it through yesterday’s worship service with no loss of life or limb! It was VBS Sunday. We had 30+ kids on the platform singing VBS songs and reading a little script summarizing the week – and we showed some slides about VBS. Student Praise Team led worship (they’re getting good!), Doxa youth choir sang for the last time before summer break. We updated people on the organ fund being at 75% and announced this summer’s Wesleyan Roundup which will be in August this year – August 13th – and will feature a Western-themed variety showing starring our own folks. And… it was Father’s Day. We had a good time with that – showed “The Dad’s Life” video from church on the move – everyone laughed; we sang the wonderful hymn “Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father…” and Pastor Richard preached a good message for father’s day. Miraculously, our combined service which started at 10 was over by 11:20! (Just as I laid it out, thank you very much…)

Every Father’s Day – every June, really – I think of my Dad. I was almost thirteen in June, 1980 when he died in a swimming accident. We were on vacation in Nags Head/ Cape Hatteras, NC. There was a riptide which locals say will eventually wash you back to shore if you don’t panic and fight against it. The problem is, as you’re being swept out to sea, you panic. Dad was a good swimmer, but he panicked and he drowned. His cries for help will haunt me for the rest of my life. We were all in the water except for my little sister. By the time some men with life-rafts could get him on the beach, Dad was certainly gone.

I’m sure my dad had his flaws. I remember that, as a boy on the cusp of his teenage years, I was beginning to see the cracks in Dad’s armor and was starting to take issue with some of his ways and ideas. As I recall, my last conversation with him was an argument; nothing real serious, but an argument nonetheless. But time has a way of washing away common faults and creating an ideal heroic, and that is how I remember Dad.

He was a thoughtful man who unquestionably loved his wife. He used to call Mom many cute names, but the one I remember particularly was “Dolly.” And my sister was “Miss Muffett” (or some variation of that – “Muffy”, etc.) or his own term “Tiny Treasure”. I don’t remember my nicknames, but that’s OK. I do remember wrestling with him on the floor, going to church with him (every time the doors were open), sitting with him during “adult conversations”, and of course, working with him on the farm. Any good work ethic I have can be credited to my Dad.
On occasions when I’m exhausted from work, especially from physical exertion, I recognize it as a “good tired” because of him. He milked 80 cows a day and had a great mind for anything, including farming. It irritates me to hear city people talk of farming as if it is unskilled labor. My Dad had two degrees from the Ohio State University – both in agriculture and animal husbandry. He knew how to take care of his livestock and he did so with great care.

If you have 80 milking cows, you have many more on the farm – usually 40 or so “dry” cows, at least that many heifers, and a bull or two in a pen – and maybe 20 or so in a freezer so you can breed your high producers with other high producers. Yep, Dad knew all about that and took great care to breed his animals well so he had a herd of high-yielding Holsteins. And he knew every cow by their face and their udder (the cows stood on raised platforms on either side of the milking parlor, so that their udders were at eye level).

One of Mom’s favorite stories of Dad as it relates to his care for cows was when he returned after an absence. He went on a mission trip to Guatemala. During that trip an uncle who was running the farm in dad’s absence had been injured in a silo auger (the first of many miraculous survivals for Uncle Les) and, in the aftermath of his injury, in my Dad’s absence, all the famers from church gathered ‘round and took shifts doing chores and taking care of the cows. When Dad returned, the cows greeted him like a hero, following him around the barn, mooing, even licking him with their rough sand-paper tongues. It was quite a ticker-tape parade, to hear my Mom talk about it. I guess I was at school, ‘cause I don’t remember it as vividly as the way Mom tells it!

Dad was not just a good farmer, but he was a faithful Christian. He was always trying to learn more of the Word and grow in his relationship with Jesus. The milkhouse radio was tuned, permanently, to the Moody Radio station from Cleveland, OH. Well – there was a brief hiatus to a new all-music formatted Christian radio station, but that hiatus lasted maybe two days. In addition to music, Moody radio featured all the great Bible teachers – we rode the Bible bus with Dr. Jay Vernon McGee, gained insights for living with Chuck Swindoll, laughed with Dr. Howard Hendricks, and got inspired with preachers like Dr. EV Hill.

Dad took Mom up to Moody Evening School, an extension program in Cleveland, and they went at least once a week. One semester they made a family project out of a report for Proverbs. We had cartoon characters like a hobo named Pa Verty.

Dad loved the Lord and was zealous for good teaching of the Word of God. We left our family church because the preaching was not very strong and the denomination’s hierarchy began making pronouncements with which he disagreed. He wasn’t content to be a spectator in a church. He had a great voice, so it was natural for him to use his talent in the church choir, but he also sought ways to serve the church through his spiritual gifts as well.

He was a great community man as well, serving on the local board of education. As vice president, it was one of his duties to open the public school board meeting with Bible reading and prayer. Those were the days! He also sang in the community, in a barbershop quartet for a while, and then in a mixed gospel quartet which sang in various churches.

So as I think about my own family I give thanks for the example my Dad was to me. I know he would LOVE his granddaughters and be enraptured with his grandson. He would probably dote on all three quite a bit on the one hand, while trying to help them see the value of working on the other… we’re still working on chores in our house. Sometimes I wish we were on a farm, but not enough to actually go buy a cow. I just "have" them every now and then.

I wonder what Dad would say to them as they enter different phases of their lives. What, for instance, would he have said when Bu was cast in Roll Bounce? What would he think of Sizakele’s first boyfriend? How would he encourage them to do well in school? What would he say to Dumisani? What would he do to help nurture their spiritual lives? As I reflect on these things, I realize in a fresh way the incredible privileges I have of being a Dad… God, give me strength, humility, and faithfulness to mirror not just my earthly Dad, but my heavenly Father, in the lives of my kids and my wife. Amen.

Grace and Sainthood

"I don't think I like that hymn," she said. "I think it's offensive to sing that I was blind but now I see."

I had suggested singing the hymn "Amazing Grace" at her mother's funeral.

I never thought I would actually be in a real life situation like this. I am sure my jaw dropped involuntarily.

My senior pastor sensed my befuddlement, and took over the conversation with "Oh? I thought you might not like the words 'that saved a wretch like me.'"

The daughter paused and said, "Yes, I really don't like those words."

With a twinkle in his eye, he shared the history of the hymn - that the author was a slave ship captain and identified himself as a wretch because of all he had done before coming to Christ. The daugther, pleased to hear the history of the hymn, softened but still didn't feel that the hymn was appropriate for her mother's funeral service.

History or no history, I am thankful for amazing grace, that a wretch like me could become a saint. Scripture tells us that this grace qualifies us to share in the inheritance of the saints (Colossians 1:12). It reminds me of the line from an old gospel hymn: that I a child of hell should in His image shine. (Here's a cool modern setting of this hymn.)

I'm not likely to be beatified or beautified, but I have been saved by grace and (even though sometimes it's hard to see) am being made in the image of Christ by the work of the Holy Spirit in me. This is the work of God, and I stand in awe of His divine, indescribable love.

Battle of Wills

Yes, it has begun. Dumisani turned three yesterday, and his mother and I have decided "this is the year." Poor boy - he gets no free passes... OK, fewer than he did when he was two and we weren't sure that he understood what we were saying to him. Over the last couple months we have become convinced that he actually does understand lots more than he's given credit for understanding. :)

So what are some of our goals for him this year? Well, potty training is obvious. Another big deal is getting him to expand his eating horizons beyond bacon in the morning and only neutral colors for lunch and supper (chicken, pasta, hamburger, rice, chips, and cheese - glorious cheese). So today it began. He wanted more bacon for breakfast. I said he could if he ate one bite of toast. You would have thought I told him he would never hold drumsticks again! He cried and cried. He immediately abandoned the idea of wanting more bacon, but I was determined that he should eat one bit of toast. Christina was only too happy to see if I could win the battle.

Soon, the scene in Dining Stadium's battle of the wills deteriorated to this: one minuscule bite of white toast remained on the plate of a desperate, crying three-year-old. Tears were streaming down his face as he demanded to be allowed to get "down." I got some reading material and hunkered down.

Realizing he was unable to convince me to release him, he called for his Mommy. Then his sister Bu came into the room. "Bu," called the forlorn toddler, to no avail. Twenty-five minutes went by. Grandma walked by and announced she was headed for the shower. "I hope you're finished before I am," she called said in a sing-song voice. Progress! He picked up the toast and took it to his mouth. He actually nibbled away a small crumb from his tiny bite-sized piece of toast.

At last his bigger sister Sizakele arose from her slumber and made her way into the room. "Geh-lay" he called out. Alas, he got a more sympathetic response from Bu. Forty-five minutes had passed. Another nibble was taken at the piece, making it about 50% smaller than when the battle began.

After an hour, Grandma came through - showered, fully clothed, hair done. Dumisani was still in his breakfast chair. Sixty minutes passed.

Finally, the took the rest of the piece to his mouth. I helped him pop it in, and we did a big dance together - he ate his toast and I let him get "down." The battle only took an hour and twenty-two minutes.

But that's not all.. there was the Green Bean Battle tonight. Aunt Sarah got her nephew a special plate called "Food Face". The supper menu was mac and cheese and green beans (and a tossed salad for us old people). I gave Mr. Food Face a green bean mustache and a head full of mac and cheese hair. Mr. Food Face was eaten bald twice and when there was a request for more mac and cheese I suggested that he eat his green beans. Again, a response equal to me suggesting that I blow up his favorite little Ohio State football. So, to make his choices clearer I cut a small piece of green bean for him (about 5 millimeters long)He cried for his Mommy who came and cut his tiny piece of green bean in half. After a brief 15-minute standoff, not willing to put everyone through another hour-plus ordeal, I grabbed half of the tiny bite and "encouraged" it into my son's mouth. Then we all gave him wild applause while I put half-a spoonful of mac-and-cheese on Mr. Food Face's forehead. After he ate more mac and cheese, he picked up the second half of the green bean bite and stuck it in his mouth, to more (and more enthusiastic) applause. He spent an hour or so after dinner saying "I ate green!"

I'm not sure he gets cause and effect yet, but so far the score is Daddy 2, Dude 0. And the second score resulted in him realizing that it's ok to eat green. We shall overcome!

What Am I Passing?

When I have the time I love to play with my son. Last week we hung out in the backyard, as we often do, and he discovered a long dried out reed that makes for a long, light, and yet surprisingly durable pole. Since this discovery, we've played a little "baseball" with it and a little tug-o-war, but his favorite thing to do is what he's doing with it here in this picture, kind of twirling it like a baton, like a band drum major.

My Dad was the drum major of his high school band and when he went to OSU he was a cheerleader - he got to catch all the girls. :) I like to use batons, too - conductors' batons. My son waves his arms like a conductor when he hears certain music - especially an instrumental version of the Star-Spangled Banner. On days when the kitchen radio is on at noon Christina gets to observe this. I guess in many ways, the nut doesn't fall far from the tree.

As I saw my son play with his "baton" I thought of the kind of baton one passes to another in a relay, and began to think about what I'm passing on to my son. What do I want to pass on to him? What do I not want to pass on to him?

That's easier to identify, I think... I do not want to pass on to him my own stupidity, my own insensitivities, my ability to do things the hard way, always.

I thought about Moses and Joshua and Elijah and Elisha. What would have happened if Joshua had become obsessed with Moses' staff and not Moses' mission? What if Elisha wanted Elijah's mannerisms instead of a double portion of the Spirit that rested upon Elijah?

I don't want to pass on my preferences and style - my penchants and idiosyncrasies... that doesn't mean I smile when he or his sisters do stuff like I do. But I sometimes grimace for the same reason.

No, I don't necessarily want to pass on a physical or temporal baton to any of my children. Instead, what I want to pass on is the power of God which I desire to be at work in my life as well as theirs. I want to pass on the mission I should be on: seeking first His kingdom and His righteousness, pressing on to know the Lord and allow His reflection to be seen in me.

More than style, more than perfect conducting patterns or a sport or a family tradition - I want my son and daughters to know and love my Lord and experience His power and grace in their lives. May it be so.

A Generation That Knows God

I want my children to have a great experience of God in their lives… to know His power at work in their circumstances, and, even more than that, for them to sense His presence in their lives. Today I was struck by the words written of Israel, that after Joshua died, a new generation came up, one that had not known God’s work. (Judges 2:10) One vivid translation (The NET Bible) reads, “They had never personally experienced the Lord’s presence or seen what He had done…”

The preceding verses describe how Israel had remained faithful in the worship of God as long as Joshua and his contemporaries were alive. As soon as the last of his friends died, though – boom! – the floodgates opened and the new generation that didn’t know the Lord began to stray. In fact, it seemed like it was more of a sprint than a gradual straying. Almost immediately, they began to worship false gods.

I have had several amazing experiences that I can only explain by saying that God’s presence came upon me or the group of people with whom I was. As the old Gospel song says, “I know God is real for I can feel Him in my soul.”

But what for those who cannot feel, because they have not yet had an experience with Him?

What about my kids and their generation?

As I read this morning, I felt impressed by several things:

1. Nothing is more important than passing the faith on to the next generation… my kids should get my first and best efforts at it, and then I should do what I can to invest in others in the next generation.

2. I need to make sure that my relationship with the Lord is real, otherwise I will be passing on a stale set of values with no experiential power or authority. OK, I haven’t processed this to make it sound wondrously theological… but if it ain’t happenin’ in my life, I think my kids will see through that and my attempts at passing the faith will be in jeopardy.

3. God is “jealous” for His people – even for a generation that does not know Him. Even in those generations, the book of Judges reveals that God gave them leaders to mercifully (in spite of their rebellion) deliver them when their suffering became too great to bear. Of course, after their leaders delivered the people, the people went back to their false gods and immorality, but yet there was always at least a tiny group in each generation who had a relationship with God and who God called upon to do great things for Him.

Maybe these things are on my mind because we are in the thick of selecting a new Youth Director at the church that I serve, or maybe because my girls are teenagers and I want to make sure they’re rock-solid with the Lord before they fly out of our nest in a few short years. Or, maybe it’s because I’m seeing my two-year-old grow up before my eyes and I am wondering if he will at an early age trust in and decide to follow Christ as his big sisters have. I pray daily that he will. What kind of world will he live in? What will his generation be like? Will he be a Joshua? A Daniel? A Stephen?

Lord, please work in my life so my relationship with You continues to grow. May my kids and others in the next generations be able to see You at work in my life in a living faith, and may they be drawn not to the faith of a father, but to the living Lord who has come to bring them life and life more abundantly. May they forsake idols! May they follow You and love You with all their heart, mind, soul, and strength. Give me the privilege of being part of humbly, lovingly, yet passionately showing them the way. Amen.

A Funny Thing Happened at the Post Office Today

Christina, Dumisani and I visited our local post office today to renew passports and get one for Dumisani. We're preparing for our world tour.

While we were at the counter, we noticed a couple shuffle in and look around. They looked like they'd be lost at a Burger King, let alone the post office. The clerk looked up, noticed them and asked if they were there to apply for a passport. The man was. The clerk told them to pick up an application and then asked if the guy had proof of US citizenship. "I have a driver's license," the man said.

"No," said the clerk, "I'll need a birth certificate."

"A birth certificate?" the man asked.

"Oh no, he cain't git a birth certificate," the woman who was with the man blurted out, obviously distressed.

"Why not?" asked the clerk.

"'Cause he's from Arkansas." came the answer.

Do they not have birth certificates in Arkansas?

Good Morning

Dumisani loves to play the piano. He climbs up on the bench by himself and plays usually one note at a time. Occasionally, he plays with both hands - and usually sounds something like John Cage or another composer from the end of the 20th century, except with a little more melody. His favorite thing to do at the piano, however, is to play a note and look at me to see if I will sing the note he plays. I often play with him, and he loves to see if Daddy can sing a low note and then a high one. He hasn't learned to distinguish octaves yet so this game is a little easier than it seems until he gets into the last two and a half octaves of the piano - then he can tell when he's being had. At that point, though, he likes to play three short notes going up to the top of the keyboard. I usually scream out three notes at the top of my falsetto - kind of sounds like Elmo. He laughs and starts the game over again.

This morning, however, he played a couple of notes and stopped suddenly. On the kitchen radio (which I couldn't hear very well from the piano) he heard a familiar chord and the higher overtones of the guitar introduction for "Revelation Song." Dumisani ran from the piano and stood in front of the radio, transfixed. He asked, in his way, for the radio to be turned up. After it was at a sufficient volume I figured he would go back to the living room and play with blocks or climb back up on the piano bench. Instead, he stayed standing in front of the radio until the song was finished. He just stood there and listened.

One of the songs playing on the radio before "Revelation Song" was a Sonic Flood tune whose title I don't remember but some of the lyrics were "I will worship as I wait for You." I thought of those words as I watched my son standing in front of the radio.

Enjoying Saturday mornings at home seems like a rare privilege these days, and I'm thankful I got to enjoy this morning.

I was appalled as I signed into my blog to discover that my last post was in July! I'm not so vain to think that many people (or any people) read my blog, but still... let's see if I can do a little better this year. :)

Vern Henrickson - a life well-lived

I was shocked with hundreds of others when Vern's home-going was announced in worship last Sunday at Calvary. My heart goes out to his family and friends who are grieving his loss.


As I reflect on Vern, a few words come to mind: steady faithfulness and humble generosity. There are only a handful of people in a choir that you can count on being there every Sunday. Vern was one of those people in the Calvary Memorial Church choir. I knew well in advance if he planned to be gone - it was easy, really. There was always one Sunday in the Spring when he and several other golf enthusiasts from Calvary would take off and go golfing. Other than that annual excursion, Vern was here always. And that was just one way he was steadily faithful.


I remember visiting Vern in his home several times during my first couple years at Calvary. I wanted to meet his wife, who he so obviously loved. Her condition of not being able to communicate, but instead just "crying" was really hard on Vern. He wanted to know what she was saying. He so wanted to communicate with her, and yet, the whole situation was as frustrating as it was heartbreaking. And there was Vern, faithfully caring for his wife. I have only known two other men whose wives were in similar situations. I have known only one who was faithful to his wife until her dying day. And that's Vern.


I think Vern was the treasurer at Calvary since they invented the abacus. Vern was a man of precision until only recently when the stresses of life and his age combined to make it hard to always remember. But even with those difficulties he continued, with steady faithfulness, to serve.


Vern humbly gave of himself. People that others of us might try to sidestep were recipients of Vern's quiet kindness and support. His humble generosity was displayed in as many ways as his steady faithfulness. Vern made it possible for us to be homeowners in River Forest. He had a town-home that he bought many years earlier for his mother-in-law and since rented to various infamous Calvary characters (usually youth staff). He decided he wanted to sell his property and instead of putting it on the market, at a time when he could have received top dollar, by the way, he instead established a price he thought was fair and approached us about buying it. As it happened, I heard through the grapevine that somebody heard about this and asked Vern about it. I've known others who may have bragged about how they sold the property at a great discount. Vern instead said, "Isn't it wonderful that Andrew and Christina are finally buying a home in our area?"


Vern's humility in giving is also seen again in singing in the choir. I didn't know Vern had perfect pitch until we sang a couple of a cappella pieces. One of the tricks of directing a choir is to sometimes pitch an a cappella piece up or down a half-step, depending on a variety of factors. After one of those times, Vern approached me and simply asked me if I'd let him know when I planned to do that. He explained that he had perfect pitch, and the re-tuning was "drving him crazy" I believe were the words he used. I always put singers around Vern that I knew would benefit the most from standing near him. Other singers in similar situations complain that other singers are throwing them off and making it harder to concentrate. Not Vern. Not a word, just humbly giving of himself to help others along.


I don't remember what Vern's favorite anthem was ... I've been working on that since Sunday, but I remember one of the hymns that we sang a cappella that seemed to have struck a chord with Vern and many of the choir members when we sang it - which was only a couple times as I recall ...


When He shall come, resplendent in His glory,
To take His own from out this vale of night,
O, may I know the joy of His appearing,
Only at morn to walk with Him in white.


Vern is now one of those who has been taken out of this land of the dying and is now in the presence of God in the land of the living. He is one of those who will be walking with Christ in white at the day of His appearing. Until then, may we have the grace to, like Vern, be steadily faithful and humbly generous. Amen.

Chicago Vacation

We had a fantastic trip to Chicago. The girls got their big city fix (for a couple of weeks at least) and we got to connect with many wonderful friends that we have missed since we left two years ago.

David and ClarLyn Morris were our gracious hosts. Whatever possessed them to say "yes" to us when they had a wedding to prepare for this weekend, we'll never know - but we enjoyed them and their home very much.

David and ClarLyn threw a party for us Thursday night and it seemed like 50 or 60 people came to say hello. Bryce and Marta Becker and Sarah and Emily came (early of course) even though they left for the Czech Republic the next morning. I think Fadge closed the party out. She called her sister Lynne who talked with Bu for a very long time - hope we didn't use up your minutes, Fadge! In between was a blur - had good talks with Eric Guyer and John Robson and said hi to so many others. Larry and Linda Burke came by to say hello, as well as most of the choir I think.

For the hearty... here's a run-down of our vacation.

Thursday

Dumisani and I went to Calvary in the morning to see everybody. He kept looking around the place with wide eyes, taking everything in, wondering why these perfect strangers seemed to know his daddy pretty well. Daddy was glad that they all acted like they were happy to see him - but Dumisani definitely stole the show!

Dumisani and I had lunch with Janet - we went to Cozy Corner and one of the regular waitresses recognized me from the old days.

Christina and I visited with Sally Giancola while Sizakele napped with Dumisani in the car. Sally and Jim's River Forest home has sold, and Sally was packing up much of the house for a move this week.

Friday

Met with Steve Boisse and Cisco and Anna Cotto. Visited with Sally and packed up a box of books. Cisco and Anna made time for us even though they were headed for a weekend away. Friday afternoon we visited Glen and Mia Gale and walked on their part of the lakeshore beach. Glen and I talked about surfing the tumultuous economic times. He's a skilled financial planner and a great brother in the Lord.

After meeting with the Gales we tried to meet up with Scott and Jennifer (Kumi) Burkett for Independence Eve firewords, but alas, in trying to get closer I actually got further away as the Chicago police systematically blocked off blocks in a progressively westward direction. By the time we got to a parking garage, it was 8:15 and we would have had a good 20 block walk. I wasn't sure we'd make it to the park, and I was pretty confident we wouldn't make the walk back, so we reluctantly drove back to Oak Park.

Saturday

Dumisani woke up at 4 today, sick. Didn't know so much could be in such a little tummy.

I went over to see if I could help Sally pack and sure enough, she did put me to work... well, there was a catch... I wanted to use her washing machine - and she of course ended up doing the laundry instead of just letting me use the machine (past experience, I believe). I packed a couple boxes of books for her to ship.

In spite of his problems, we spent a lovely, leisurely afternoon with Fred and Sarah Munoz. Sally Giancola stopped by, as well as David and ClarLyn, and Maurice George, a friend of ours through Hurricane Katrina, which made it necessary for him to relocate here. Jim and Sally "adopted" him and we have all had the privilege of seeing Maurice do well as a college student and hair stylist extraordinaire. Fred grilled the most magnificent burgers for lunch and pork loin chops for dinner - wow!

Steve and Dana Nasralla and their kids, Carter and Micah, stopped by early and we had a nice visit before they had to dash home to finish preparations for a 4th of July party they were hosting - for which they were expecting 40-50 church friends. I hadn't talked to Steve for some time, so I'm so glad we got to catch up.

Saturday night everyone went to OPRF high school to see the fireworks... everyone except for Dumisani and me. But we got to see many of them - especially the grand finale - from the Morrises back porch. Dumisani sat on my lap and stared with his big eyes at the spot where the fireworks appeared. I think he would have looked at them for hours if they were able to go that long! Is that the difference between boys and girls? All Sizakele and Busisiwe did when they were little was scream and cry! They love them now, though.


Sunday

Was a neat time of worship and fellowship at Calvary. During the 10:00 ABF hour, Pastor Bob dedicated Dumisani to the Lord. It was a privilege for us to have him do that. Prior to our family's move, Bob and I had been through a lot together! It was good to reconnect Thursday and have him pray over our son on Sunday.

Between the 10:00 and 11:30 service hours, we got mobbed in a very good way in the portico... Joan and Reggie Winston, Kalajine Anigbogu and Chioma, Sabrina and Mark Thompson, Mike McGonigal, Roger Glass, the Sagans, and Erica and Noe Brambila are just a few of the folks who we got to talk to. We got to meet Pastor Todd Wilson, the new senior pastor at Calvary. He seems like a careful Bible teacher and a godly leader. He seems like the type of man Calvary needs for this time in her history.

After church we drove to the South side and met with our dear friends Von and Vilma Matthews, along with Vilma's sister Martha, and of course, Jennifer, Reggie and Menia, and Reggie and Menia's sons. They are both handsome little boys who keep everyone on their toes! Some of my best ministry moments have been side by side with Von... it was so good to see him and everyone.

We continued our South Side Journey at Priscilla and Keith Cordero's home. We also got to see Jennifer and Andreas Persson. What a treat to have all three boys in the same place!!! But that didn't last long - Dumisani still seemed tired and dehydrated, so we decided to take him to urgent care. He took a definite turn for the better while we were there and the medical staff was satisfied that he was doing well, so they let us go after about three hours - unfortunately, Jennifer and Andreas had to return home in the meantime, but we enjoyed a visit with Keith and Priscilla. We're looking forward to seeing them out here next month!

Monday

Monday morning we had a late and hilarious breakfast with Johann and Janet Buis. What a good time! It was then that we learned that muchos congratulations are due to Adele-Marie (sorry - I don't know how to do the French accents on my keyboard!!!) She will be going to DePaul in the Fall and studying oboe with the principal oboist from the Chicago Symphony!!! He recruited her and WANTS to be her teacher!!!! Way to go, girl! We are proud of you!

Monday afternoon was "Chicago day." We had pizza at Gino's East with Kara Schoenle and kids, then the girls got to go shopping... finally. And I got my dose of downtown Chicago - the hustle and bustle, the breeze from the lake, and the strange calm that falls at the end of the day in that brief interloping period between the end of work and the beginning of rush hour(s). The sun begins to cast shadows on the grand buildings of one of the greatest cities of the world, and everything seems to cool down, even in the heat of summer. Maybe it's my imagination, but it's a great moment of imagination, isn't it? :)

Monday evening we made up for the time we lost with Scott and Jennifer Burkett on Saturday. We realized, as we watched their son and our son play with a Fisher-Price carport, that we need to catch up in the age-appropriate "toys for boys" department. I had the privilege of marrying Scott and Jennifer a few years ago, now. They are solid Christians and have two beautiful lively kids. "Daddy, are you happy?" My girls will remember that question for a long time. :)

We caught late night ice cream with Brandon and Marisa Williams and closed down Oberweis on Oak Park Ave! Marisa and Brandon have great senses of humor and we always have a good time talking about both substantive things and nothing at all. A woman on the street with some sort of hygienic crisis gave us something to talk about for a while and we got caught up on what's happening in their lives as well. :)

Tuesday

On Tuesday I had breakfast with Bernie Fillmore. Grace and peace, brother! And we had lunch with Russell and Lauren Kozak. They have a special place in our hearts. Russell plays a fantastic Jesus! Lauren and Russell were the first people to photograph Sizakele - they used her as part of a special school report section for the Tribune. Those were the days... :)

Unfortunately, I was too sick to really enjoy breakfast or lunch. I spent the rest of the afternoon on the basement couch. Christina cancelled late night dessert with Patrick and Kutu Baker and went with the girls and Dumisani (without me) to Pastor Bob and Jean's house for supper with them and the Buises. When they got home, Christina's cousin Khumbu Dlamini visited with her for a while and saw Dumisani and no doubt gave the girls more lessons in Swazi culture. I was on the basement couch.

Wednesday

4:00 came way to early, but we got up anyway and made our way to O'Hare Airport.

We were sad to leave so many friends and our adopted hometown (ask the girls - they'll tell you they're Chicagoans!), but glad to be back home to recover from the vacation germs!

I know I've left a lot of people out of this report; please forgive me if you read through this hoping to see your name and you didn't. Thank you to all of you who were patient and flexible with us, and happy to see us, and so kind in welcoming us! We hope we can see you again soon.

Got Change?

Last Sunday our pastor shared a famous quote from Mark Twain: “The only person that seems to enjoy change is a baby with a wet diaper.” I’ve noticed that my son doesn’t always enjoy a diaper change, even when he needs it! Sometimes it means disrupting a game of nerfball or play with another toy. He doesn’t seem to enjoy leaving our arms for the harder surface of the changing table. Often he doesn’t seem to appreciate it at all until the dry diaper is on.

I’m smiling as I think how like many of us that is. In order to change us God sometimes has to disrupt the games we're playing, put us on a hard surface, and change us! The process is difficult, and sometimes, we don’t even like the change! But we can trust that as we allow God room to lead us in our lives, and live according to God’s Word, we can believe that all things – even change – are somehow working out for our good (Romans 8:28).

The UMC I serve follows a lectionary cycle, and one of the Scriptures for this Sunday is the 23rd Psalm. We will certainly be celebrating that theme in worship this Sunday. One of my favorite hymns that speaks to God’s guidance and care is the wonderful Swedish hymn “Day By Day”.

“At the age of 26, Lina Sandell had an experience that greatly influenced her life. She was accompanying her father aboard ship to the city of Gothenburg, Sweden, across Lake Vattern. The ship gave a sudden lurch and Lina’s father, a devout Lutheran minister, fell overboard and drowned before the eyes of his devoted daughter.” (p. 20, Amazing Grace: 366 Inspiring Hymn Stories by Kenneth W. Osbeck.)

Out of this horrible tragedy, in days of profound sorrow, these tender words were written:

Day by day, and with each passing moment
Strength I find to meet my trials here.
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best.
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Ev’ry day the Lord Himself is near me
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares, He fain would bear, and cheer me,
He whose Name is Counselor and Pow’r!
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid:
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.

In these days of palpable uncertainty, may we find strength in God our Rock and Jesus our Good Shepherd, who leads us – albeit through change – from glory to glory to a wondrous place of grace.

Beauty Within

Maybe by now you've heard of Miss California, in the Miss USA pageant, giving a response to the question of whether or not every state in the union should follow the lead of VT and allow same-sex marriage. I have the following observations:

1. She answered the question. Isn't it refreshing to hear people answer questions and not dance around them?
2. Gee, in a pageant, don't you think the pageant officials and handlers would know what a girl's response would be to a question like that? I know that she drew the number of the judge who asked the question out of a glass bowl, but I can't help but think that she was set up with that question. A little "gotcha moment" for the religious girl?
3. It seems like that question, like many pageant questions, was framed to promote a political agenda.
4. I was surprised by the audience's response - I was expecting lots of boo's. There may have been a few, but all I heard was pretty loud applause in response to her answer. Whether the audience applauds or not does not validate one's convictions, but I was surprised, nonetheless.
5. Hopefully, vlogging about a pageant contestant and calling her a dumb b.... disqualifies one from serving as a judge in the future. What would happen if her answer had been the opposite and she were treated in the same way as she's being treated now? What kind of hot water would the vlogging judge be in then?

I'm sure Miss CA is not perfect. I appreciate the fact that she stood by her convictions and she answered graciously. True beauty emanates from within. Surely integrity is one of the keys to this kind of beauty.

Wow - seeing God heal is amazing

I wasn't going to blog on this at first, but as I have reflected on this, I think I can blog on this without giving anyone's identity away. I hope this will encourage you as much as it has and is encouraging me.

My friend's email subject caught my eye as it entered my inbox ... something like, "I need your prayers NOW." My good friend has a pretty steady, sunny personality, so I knew something was up. In her email she explained that her best friend was in the hospital, having bled in her brain after a bad fall in which she basically landed on the back side of her head. At that moment she was noncommunicative, paralyzed, and not breathing on her own.

I felt like the Lord wanted me to get over there as quickly as I could. I'm no hero, I just know when God is talking to me - and for a change I decided I'd better do what I heard Him telling me to do. So later that day my friend and I met by her friend's bedside (let's call her friend Mary) in the ICU to pray.

One of the men in our church works as an ICU nurse, and he happened to be on duty. I invited him to stay and pray with us. There were four of us (including Mary's Mom), with hands joined around the bed. Mary's Mom and I held Mary's hands. I prayed and sang a couple verses of "Amazing Grace" to her. She seemed restless before I began to sing and calmer as I sang. This, again, is just due to God. I can take NO credit.

The next day I emailed my friend and asked if I could meet her to pray with Mary again. She said sure, and said, "Yesterday, you prayed on her right side, and today, she has movement on her right side. Do you think we could pray on her left side today?" At first I though, "I'm no faith healer!" but I knew to keep my mouth shut. I might not be a faith healer, but Jesus is the Great Physician, and the Father wants us to bring our requests and petitions to Him. So I prayed on her right side. It was a couple days, but her right side began to show some promise.

The doctors were concerned about inner organs shutting down, and the next day I saw her, Mary was having a bad day. Her breathing was fast and labored, even on the machine, and the hospital staff was clearly concerned. I prayed with her and sang to her anyway, but it seemed to have no effect. Mary's Mom was with her the majority of every day. She looked very tired and discouraged that day. Her kids came every day after work - her daughter was there when I came that day and she looked equally discouraged.

I left the hospital with a sinking feeling that I may not return to pray for and sing with Mary again.

I returned the next day in time to offer a quick word of prayer before surgery, and talk briefly with Mary's Mom and son.

I heard from my friend that Mary had made it through surgery. We visited her together shortly afterward. She wasn't in ICU any more! She was in a regular room. As we came to the room, nurses and doctors were in and out, clearly trying to solve a problem that had come up. Mary's daughter was there, and came out in the hall to talk with us. She said something about Mary making a list of items to get for her from home!

Four weeks ago, Mary was lying on her bed in a semi-coma (that's my analysis, not medical). She was badly bruised all over her face. Her eyes were pretty much shut, or else her eyelids fluttered. She was restless, but seeminly unconscious and unable to communicate. Now she was making lists, clearly thinking.

Three weeks ago, during surgery, the doctors put in a "trach" (spelling?) so they could take the breathing tubes out of her nose, but keep her breathing.

Two weeks ago I visited and she was breathing through the trach ON HER OWN. Her eyes were open - I was struck by how beautiful her eyes were, and the joyous sparkle she had when her friend and I walked into her room. And she was mouthing words!

After a little bit of small talk around the room, I asked if I could pray for her. Mary suddenly dropped my friend's hand and reached out for mine. We all joined hands around the bed and prayed again for Mary's continued mending and healing. I got to sing a verse of "How Great Thou Art," and afterward Mary clapped and mouthed the words, "I'm so happy."

When I got home I shared all of this with my wife. "Of course," she beamed, "the prayer of a righteous man availeth much." I knew what had gone through my mind that day. I knew the temptations I had entertained, given into, the thoughts I had - the bad attitudes I harbor and sometimes display. I'm not righteous, but thank God - through His grace, by faith I am made righteous through the blood of Christ!

I stopped by to see Mary last week - as it turns out it was her last full day in the hospital. Her eyes were bright and she was able to whisper enough for me to get the essence of what she was saying. She's now in a medical rehabilitation facility. I don't know what might happen to Mary in the long-run, but I know God is able to heal if that's what will bring Him the most glory. And I also have had a tremendous reminder of a favorite promise,

"Nothing is impossible with God."

As we pray, we can pray with expectation. We should pray and ask God for what we want, believing that if He will, He can give it to us. I'm not talking about a new Porsche... but a new life, healing, provision, spiritual growth, blessings for others, discipline for ourselves, spiritual victory, a second chance... these are wonderful things to ask of God. May He be praised!

just a few personal notes

A PARADOX: I didn't stop and stare, I just noticed out of the corner of my eye, a bright blue car pull up next to me at a stoplight this morning. And out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the driver looked right over at me as she came to a stop. She was probably in her late 20's, driving a hybrid car. She had her window partially rolled down because she was... SMOKING. I laughed at the irony... so which spilled out more pollutants into the environment this morning - my big, beautiful Park Ave., or her Prius and cigarette smoke? I don't know.

I'M WEARING RED TOMORROW. Many of my CA friends who know I'm from the Midwest will probably be surprised that I'm not rooting for the Superbowl team from back East. Well - I'm from Ohio. Just as I would never root for the Maize and Blue in any contest, so I will never root for that team from the Pitts. Rooting for either team for me would almost be like voting for a Democrat in our family, which I did... in the last Illinois gubernatorial election. Let that be a lesson to me!!!

SPEAKING OF THE NEWS FROM ILLINOIS THIS WEEK: If ex-Gov. Blago were entitled to a jury of his peers, he got one last week... I'm not sure who's dirtier than who, but I guarantee you that at least 98% of all the polticians from the great state of Chicago - I mean Illinois - is up to their eyebrows in corruption. That's just how the game is played "over by dere". (that's a "d" instead of a "th" for you non-Chicagoans)

ON TO THE NATIONAL SCENE: Of course, there are some pretty serious implications to the last two sentences above. Well, "By their fruits you shall know them", right?

As the fruit is born, please promise me you won't look at rotten fruit and call it fresh, OK? And I promise not to look at fresh, healthy fruit and call it rotten.

Thanks for reading my ranting. I was going to write a nice piece about Sizi's high school formal and how I felt as her dad and post a pretty picture of her in her dress, but I think I accidentally hit delete - at any rate, no pretty pictures! Hopefully, you'll stick around to see if I write something about it next time. We'll see...

Take care, everyone.