Breath in the storm

Sunday afternoon, our family sat quietly at a piano recital listening to children play the pieces they had worked so hard on for so long.  Rumbles of thunder echoed across the sky.  Sitting in a small church on this dreary, drizzly day listening to the sweet songs of children’s fingers dance with piano keys was soothing and restful…until…

The piano teacher introduced a young man who was about to play.  However, he wanted his performance to be dedicated to his friend, a fellow piano student, who would not be playing that day.

She suffered a tragic accident the day before.  Sleeping on the top bunk of her bunk beds, with no railing, she fell from the top bunk in her sleep.  She suffered several breaks in her back.

As the teacher told us this, with stained glass illuminating what sun was trying to peek through and kneeling prayer pads tucked underneath the chairs, my sleepy daze was shaken.  It was as though I could hear the thud and screams of that terrified little girl.  The cries and panic of the parents.  The wail of the ambulance and hustling of the family at 2 a.m. to gather their things to leave for the hospital.  As a mom, my hearts breaks and I pray, but still my heart is traumatized by something I neither witnessed or ever met this precious little girl now in the hospital.

Monday morning, reading the local paper, a photo of a teenager in a wheelchair caught my attention.  He is 17, and only 1 1/2 years ago found out he has leukemia.  One minute life is normal, the next the school nurse calls his dad and says something is wrong.  Now, having been through this nightmare for 18 months, he says he feels forgotten by his peers.  He says he doesn’t want to fight.  How it tears apart his parents to not be able to heal him, help him, give their hope to him.  How emotions must rage in their hearts to know their son feels forgotten.  I am broken for this young man, unrecognizable by his classmates because of chemo and the battering of his body by leukemia.  As a mom, my hearts breaks for him and his family and all families suffering the plight of cancer.

Then later Monday  came news of little lives are lost in a massive tornado.  No one knew when waking up and getting ready for school that for many families, this day will tear their hearts apart forever.  Innocence swept away with homes.  Hope crushed beneath the rubble that buries their young lives.  What mind can conceive of the devastation let alone the fact that many will never do life with their loved ones again – this side of heaven for those who follow Christ.  The pictures, the stories, the videos.  It’s too much.

Boston was too much.

China’s earthquake was too much.

Sri Lanka’s building collapse was too much.

We barely have time to catch our breath in between catastrophes.  We still replay the bombs blowing up at finish line; the elderly sitting in the middle of ruin that used to be their home; the photo of a couple embraced to their death in the fallen building, and now haunting images from Oklahoma sweep us up in their wake and we find no relief.  No answers.  No reason.  No breath.

We barely breathe in between tragedies, and in the middle of our hearts breaking for people we’ve never met, somewhere in the deepest of hearts we wonder if our families are next.  What will be the next act of horror?  It just doesn’t stop, like rolls of the tide, it comes and comes and comes.

We are at a loss for words.  What do you say to parents who suffer unfathomable loss of their children?  How do we console what is inconsolable?  How do we help put hearts back together that are scattered among the rubble of what used to be neighborhoods and schools and community?

There are no words.

I know there are no words.  I lived through a different kind of storm, but one that took everyone I loved and everything I owned.  As a survivor, there is a sense of responsibility to go back and sift through the wreckage of lives – be it from a storm, a collapsed building, an earthquake, cancer or a bunk bed.

But what do we say?  There are no words.

It’s not so much what we say, it’s what we do.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says it best,

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

It’s what we have to give.  We can give our money, time, energy and words of encouragement.  Those are a huge help.  But, the everlasting help we can offer is to share the comfort we ourselves have received from God.  It’s in our prayers, an arm around their shoulders, an ear to listen, a heart to cry with, a shoulder to lean on.  Comfort is action.

That means with audacious prayer we stand in the gap for those hurting because not only do we know suffering, but we know that God brought us through it and He can do the same for them.  We can call upon Him on their behalf, because we know He did not leave us in our darkest times and He will not leave them.

There are many kinds of storms.  Some hit hard and fast and leave as swiftly as they come.  Some last days, weeks, months in illness.  Some last years for those trapped in human trafficking.  With every type of storm that rages, suffering is something that we have in common without regard to race, ethnicity, creed or lifestyle.  Compassion and comfort is something all of us can give to help.

There are no magical words to take the pain away.  But, there is comfort that we have received and can share to help them through their storm.  Comfort that allows the hurting, panic-stricken, grieving, those barely surviving to catch their breath – until the storm has passed.

The lunchbox

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The account of Jesus feeding the 5,000 is renown.  From preschool to the pulpit, this historical event has been told and retold for the glory of God.  However, there is someone in this true story that remains a mystery. Someone who has always captivated my curiosity.  Since God has chosen this season for our family to travel on global mission to Kenya, Ukraine and now this year’s mission, the mystery of the unnamed person takes on a new light to me.

I don’t want to take away one ounce of awe and wonder at what Jesus did that day in this post.  In fact, the goal is to continue to make much of Him – albeit differently than I’ve heard before about this passage of Scripture.

Read with me John 6:1-13

6 Some time after this, Jesus crossed to the far shore of the Sea of Galilee (that is, the Sea of Tiberias),2 and a great crowd of people followed him because they saw the signs he had performed by healing the sick. 3 Then Jesus went up on a mountainside and sat down with his disciples. 4 The Jewish Passover Festival was near.

5 When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” 6 He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.

7 Philip answered him, “It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!”

8 Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, 9 “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?”

10 Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there). 11 Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.

12 When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” 13 So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.

We read of several people involved in this awesome account – except one.  The person who made the little boy’s lunch – presumably his mother, but even if it were his father or grandparent or sibling, the message is still the same.

Someone took the time to do two things for this little boy.  One, they made time to let him go hear Jesus.  We don’t know his age, but perhaps there were chores he could have been doing or he simply could’ve played with his friends. Someone let him go hear Jesus teach.

Two, they were forward-thinking and packed him a lunch so he would be equipped to stay for as long as Jesus was teaching.

There are so many unanswered questions like…

* When Andrew brought the boy and his lunch into the solution, was his mother standing right there, too, so close to Jesus and the disciples?  Probably not.  The 5,000 headcount refers to men.  Women and children not withstanding.  I would guess they sat on the fringe of where the men sat.

* Who prepared the fish for him?  That seems like a task an adult would have done.

* Who taught him to share?  Notice the boy didn’t put a fight about turning over his lunch.  I have two boys, and let me tell you when they are hungry – they are hungry and looking for food to consume.  So, if everyone else was already hungry, wasn’t he, too?

* Was he alone, or did he have siblings or friends with him?  If he had siblings with him, would not they have had a lunch, too?

Hmm.  My mind wanders to endless curiosities (it drives my family crazy sometimes. :) )  Back to the point.

Someone, let’s assume it was his mother by what we know of family dynamics back in that time period, prepared that little boy for the long haul.  She packed him a lunch and gave him permission to go.

Traveling on mission with our children, I can relate a lot to this mom.

* Jesus is irresistible.  If He were coming to town, you’d better believe I’d have my kids there quicker than any music concert or midnight movie premier.  But, these days He works differently.  He isn’t seen on a grassy mountainside, but He is very much still teaching and performing miracles.  I don’t want my kids to miss a single moment they were destined to be a part of.

* Our children’s “lunchboxes” are crafted from the times we’ve poured Christ into their lives via prayer, conversation, Bible study, attending church, serving for Him, buying them devotionals, dedicating them as babies, and encouraging their faith in both subtle and direct ways in their 24/7/365.  We try hard not to take any minute for granted, and do what we can to spur them on in their faith – even when that means we show our weaknesses and frailties.

* We let them go.  For now, they go on mission with us (and sometimes without us, though well chaperoned). We allow experiences that are uncomfortable – even undesirable – if it means they meet Jesus in that moment. Our culture is dangerously soft in all ways.  We are consumed with the idolatry of comfort.  We want to play, eat and do whatever we want to.  Hard work is nearly obsolete in the generation behind us.  Example, (and this isn’t even for hard work – just plain work) I was in the grocery store recently when I walked up to the checkout clerk an asked him to page my husband since we didn’t have our phones with us and I needed his help.  There wasn’t a soul around and this teenage guy had nothing to do but stand there and wait for someone to check out.  He looked at me, without blinking, and said, “I could, but I just don’t want to.  If you could go up to customer service that’d be great.”  Infuriating, right?

One of the biggest disservices parents of my generation are doing is trying to get their kids to believe life is easy, they should be rewarded for nothing, and they should have their way every time.  When the real world slaps them silly whether it be in college, at their first job interview, or when they are evicted for not paying rent because they don’t have a job, they will feel not only defeated, but betrayed – by their parents.  Why didn’t you tell me.  Teach me.  Warn me.  Show me, are thoughts rolling around in their heads as our teens are setting new records of stress, drug addition, suicide, drinking, nervous breakdowns, burnout and prescription drug dependency.  I dread becoming old and depending on this generation to take care of me by way of voting on sketchy laws, working in nursing homes and other places I may need their help, and respecting the elderly in general.

No, I am not afraid to let my children have appropriately uncomfortable experiences like when our youngest couldn’t sleep on the long flight to Kenya.  It was hard to watch him not be able to settle down, but he survived.  Or when we were served food in Kenya that we had no idea what it was, and I looked at our daughter across the table with my mother’s eyes staring and silently said, “Smile.  Eat it.  Be thankful.”  We Americans have no idea how rude it would have been to say to the people who sacrificed their own food and poverty-level earnings to cook for us, Oh, my child won’t eat this, or doesn’t like this.  Do you have something else?  Not only does that give Christ a black eye as His ambassador, but it deeply harms cultural relations as Americans are viewed in a selfish, rude light.  I teach my children to be thankful for what they are given, because I know how it feels to work hard on a meal to which a young guest casually replies, I don’t eat that.  

I wanted to shout Amen! when our pastor said he doesn’t understand why parents are afraid to ask their 13 year-old to take out the garbage.  On mission, our kids must carry their weight even more than when we’re home.  Why?  It’s not because we are mean parents, it’s because we’re all asked to carry our own weight, and it’s hard work.  We’re all tired.  We’re all hungry.  We do help them out, but that is different from saving them every time they’re asked to do a job they don’t want to do or are tired of doing.  Teamwork – yes!  Enabling – no.

Why go through all of this anyway?  Bruce and I have a few thoughts on this for our children:

(1) More than anything, we want our children to follow God wherever He leads.  Toughening them now helps equip them for the future God has for them.  It also helps them erase limits and believe the impossible with God.  If anyone had told me even 3 years ago we’d being going  on global missions, I would have laughed!  I never want our kids to live within self-imposed boundaries that have held me captive my entire life.

(2) We want them to position themselves for God’s work.  That little boy with the 2 fish and 5 barley loaves made his way through the crowd directly to the inner circle of Jesus and the disciples.  We want our children to have a front-row seat to what Jesus is doing.

(3) We want them to be a part of whatever Jesus is doing – more than an onlooker, we want them to be in the middle of it.  Taking them on mission now equips them for mission trips they may take when they are grown or any ministry He has for them.  We want them to be comfortable jumping in with both feet.

(4) We want them to recognize the needs of others and want to be a part of the solution.  The little boy knew everyone was hungry because mostly likely he was hungry, too.  He surrendered his lunch for the good of the cause.  We want our kids, in the same way, to surrender their time, energy and resources to the cause of Christ without hesitation or reservation.

(5)  The days are evil and will become more so as the clock of history winds down.  Take a look at the snapshot Paul gives Timothy of what humanity will look like in the last days:

2 Timothy 3:1-5 But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. 2 People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, 3 without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, 4 treacherous, rash, conceited,lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— 5 having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people. (NIV)

(The Message) Don’t be naive. There are difficult times ahead. As the end approaches, people are going to be self-absorbed, money-hungry, self-promoting, stuck-up, profane, contemptuous of parents, crude, coarse, dog-eat-dog, unbending, slanderers, impulsively wild, savage, cynical, treacherous, ruthless, bloated windbags, addicted to lust, and allergic to God. They’ll make a show of religion, but behind the scenes they’re animals. Stay clear of these people.

(King James Version) This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. 2 For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, 4 Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; 5 Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.

No matter how we slice and dice the translation, did your eyes glaze over this list like mine did simply because it doesn’t phase us?  This is our normal.  This is what we know.  Imagine how shocking it must have been for Timothy to read it.  How his eyes must have widened and a gasp heard under his breath while a cold chill ran down the back of neck as he read these “terrible” things.  Yet, I read it and say with a sarcastic tone, “…And…so what?” because I am desensitized by its commonness.

No one knows when the sun will rise for the last time, but we want our children to be fully aware of the times, making the most of every opportunity. (Ephesians 5:15 – 16, Be very careful, then, how you live-not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.)

Jesus said it best in Matthew 10:16, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.  Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.  Missions certainly gives a lot of practice with this!

(6) We want to teach our children to look for Christ in the crowd, to follow where He leads, to be part of the solution, and believe His miracles as all of this helps strengthen their foundation of faith.

When on mission, God’s presence is real in a very different way than in our normal grind.  He’s still there in the every day, but too often either we forget to look for Him because we are busy spinning on our hamster wheels, or we fail to see Him because we are positioned toward the back of the fighting line.  Yes, God gives our kids opportunities in their every day to take a stand for Him, serve Him and seek Him (they have AMAZING witnessing stories they share with us at school and other places of how God sets divine appointments), but ask anyone on mission and they will say the same…spiritual battles are very in your face on mission.  The more we teach our children while they are growing about what spiritual battles look like, and how to fight them in Jesus’ Name, the more they will be ready to fight them as an adult when they have left the nest.

There is a whole lot to learn packed in this one account of Jesus feeding the 5,000.  Today, we looked at one of the people whose name is omitted.  The anonymous lunch packer working for the benefit of their child.

This reminds me of God’s promise to David regarding Solomon in 1 Chronicles 17:11,

When your days are over and you go to be with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom.

He was referring to all that Solomon would do after David.

Relating this to our children, we seek not that they build their own kingdom, but that they are part of building the Kingdom of God by way of going into all nations as commissioners for Christ (Matthew 28:18-20).  If you ask Bruce, his mantra is this - I want our kids to do more for Christ than we’ll ever do in our lifetime!  

Our lives were half over before we caught the vision of global missions.  Our kids already have such a huge head start on us!  Yeah!  When we asked them to pen their thoughts on what missions means to them, something our youngest wrote sums this point up best…

“Now that I have both experiences in more rural countries and more westernized countries, I feel better equipped to be able to evangelize in most cultures.”

He is merely a tween.  I get teary every time I think about how God is equipping them both for today and for their futures.  It’s so exciting to be a part of it!

I am grateful for the person who packed that boy’s lunch and let him go, and in doing so has greatly encourage me to do the same.  To meet this Man, Jesus Christ, that is crazy in love with the world – even those who have never heard His name…yet.

We will continue to pack their lunchboxes and let them go meet Jesus for as long as God allows.  This may be across the street, across town, or across the globe.

I want to do everything I can as a parent to position them for miracles that still happen today.  I want them to see Jesus up close and personal – within arm’s reach.  To hear His voice, know His smell, and catch His passion for helping others.  I want our kids to be so close to Jesus that they see His smile as He watches onlookers be amazed at His power.  I want them to be so close to Him that they hear Him laugh under His breath as people see Jesus with fresh eyes that He loves them, cares for them, and wants to help them.

Any of us would agree that if we had been the parent on duty that day, we would have wanted our child exactly where this little guy was – not at home or with friends or in the back of the crowd.  We have to believe this moment changed this little boy’s life.  It’s still changing lives today.  He carried this moment for the rest of his life saying, It was my lunch.  Mine.  Jesus used my lunch to feed 5,000 people!  Changed indeed.

Changed is what Bruce and I desire for our kids.  We want them to shoot far beyond the American dream, overcome their obstacles, and seek God with a passion that keeps them pursuing Him for the long haul. Through taking them on mission, we provide the lunchbox and let them go.  God packs the miracles.  What an honor it is to watch it unfold.

When reading our son’s words again above, I think I share the same smile as the mom who packed the boy’s lunch that day.  As a mom, she was busy.  She could’ve played this out a hundred different ways, but she chose to pack a lunch and send him to go to Jesus where He was – on a mountainside.

God’s given each of us parents a lunchbox to pack for our children. How will we use it?

Where is the hand of God?

There are times when I am reminded of how fragile life is.  Yesterday, the horrific events in Boston was one of those times.  I, like many, need to hear comforting Truth that God is still with us – loving, looking after, and tending to our lives.

As I stepped outside today, this new bird’s nest caught my eye.  Protected by walls on each side, this nest is tucked away from the street’s view.  It has been tenderly crafted to hold life.

This nest carries such a deep image for me that I wanted to pass it along.

Bird's nest

God led me to see His hand is like this nest.  Holding.  Protecting.  Nurturing.  Providing.  Sheltering.  Covering.  Loving.

Then, just to prove His point even more, as I balanced on a step stool photographing this nest, out of nowhere came the mamma or daddy bird.  It was so upset I was near its nest!  It chirped, flew swift fly-by’s and clearly let me know that its presence was there.

God is in this moment to me.  His hands hold us.  His eyes watch over us.  His Presence never leaves us.

Even when we don’t see Him with our eyes – He’s there.  May we feel the warmth of His hands, look for His Presence, and rest knowing He is watching over we who are a part of this big world that He so loves.

Where is the hand of God?  It is around us sheltering us, beneath us holding us, and over us covering us.  Perhaps sometimes we can’t see it because everything we can see is viewed through the lens of His hands.  He so cares about our lives that the filter of His hands colors everything we see with His grace and mercy.

A few verses for today and every day….

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me. ~ Isaiah 49:16

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,my God, in whom I trust.” ~ Psalm 91:1-2

If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.  If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast. ~ Psalm 139:8-10

Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings… ~ Psalm 17:8

I love you, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. ~ Psalm 18:1-2

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber; 

indeed, he who watches over (you)

will neither slumber nor sleep. ~ Psalm 121:1-4

Goodbye, Hello

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people… Galatians 6:9-10

This week has been filled with an array of emotions.  Some have been great like when something really cool happened to one of our children at school.  Some have been really low as we mourn the loss of a dear friend.

This friend was one of a kind.  He lived an exceptional life of service to the Lord and was an inspiration to many. Although he was elderly, he seemed timeless to me.  He was a staple at church and in his faith.  The world has lost a godly man.

The night before his celebration of life service, I sat in a room by myself and cried wept.  My heart spilled tears down my cheeks over the thought of never praying with, or enjoying the conversation of, this man again this side of heaven.  He was like a grandfather to me.

On the day of his service, I squandered my time, procrastinating the inevitable shower I needed.  I delayed his service as long as possible, which nearly made me miss it.  I just couldn’t bring myself to get ready and go. Going means goodbye – and I didn’t want to say goodbye to him.

I really dreaded going.  I’ve buried many people I love, and I loved this man.  Everyone did. He was family to my family.  My heart is broken.

I expected the service to run its course, then my oldest child and I would leave and muster the energy to return to our normal grind – though normal is the last thing that the day felt like.  However, one story the pastor shared about our friend will always stick with me…

He and our friend have gone to the Caribbean with a team of men from our church for the last 20 years to build all kinds of structures for churches there. I admire their tenacity in their golden years to continue such physically laborious work.  He said that one year many years ago, our friend (in his 60′s at the time) spent the days of the mission trip going house-to-house, all alone, evangelizing to everyone he met.  When he returned to their base camp, our pastor noticed his pants were torn and knees scraped and bloody.

What happened to you? he asked.

Oh, well I was knocking on doors up that mountain and fell down it.  I rolled all the way down the mountain, he replied.  They had lunch, then he went right back out to the streets and continued knocking.  He was unstoppable for Christ.

As much as I want to be surprised at this story, I’m not.  This was who he was.  Faithful to the task at hand for the Gospel whether in the States, in the Caribbean, or in the other parts of the world that he traveled.

Hearing about these men’s mission trips made me think about this upcoming one for our family.  When the service was over, this year’s mission trip was heavy on my mind – as well as thoughts of my dear friend.

A special friend from our Kenya trip came over to me and offered a smile.  I was so glad to see her.  She and her husband are mission mentors to me.  They are shining examples of what we hope Bruce’s and my retirement years will look like (Lord willing) – going anywhere God leads them to for the cause of Christ.

She speaks with her heart, so I told her what was on my mind – looking for a word of comfort or encouragement.

I said to her, How am I going to go to this place and help these fragile orphans for 13 days?  How does one go for just 13 days?  It’s like, Hi – nice to meet you…then Bye – have a nice life!  How do I do that?  These babies and children in their medical crises have NO ONE coming for them!!!  They don’t get to go home and receive love and care from a mom and dad.  They don’t have sisters and brothers to support them and help them.  They are alone.  How does my nurturing mother’s heart do this for just 13 short days?  God hasn’t put it on our hearts to adopt any children at this point, so isn’t it cruel to make connections with these precious children then leave? How am I going to ever go?

She smiled her comforting smile and said, When our friend that we mourn today was in the Caribbean on one of their trips, he led a man to Christ.  Remember, the pastor in his eulogy told us that this man was originally from India and eventually traveled back to his homeland.  There in India, he began to spread the Gospel.  We know that at least 5,000 people have accepted Christ, and 20 Christian libraries have begun.  We’ll never know the ripple effect of how many people’s lives have been changed because our friend shared the Gospel with just one person on one trip.  Sometimes, we are only called for 13 days.  God takes it from there.  Like our friend, while you are on mission, give it everything.  Give yourself completely to the task – even if it is to just one.  This is all the time God is giving you to be there.  Use it wisely.

As her tender eyes pierced mine, she spoke words that came straight from the throne room.  It was exactly what I needed to hear.  I needed to hear there is purpose in the lifetime missionaries that call a foreign land home, but there is also purpose in just 13 days.

This short conversation made a huge impact on me because it reminded me that it really is about God’s plan – not mine.  The nurturer in me wants to fix the needs of the orphans.  The Savior-complex in me wants to give them their happily ever efter.  The realist in me knows I can’t no matter how long I stay there or the resources I could spend.  The hard fact is that the problem is bigger than me.  The Truth, however, is that their problems are not too big for God.  So where I want to scoop these little ones up in my arms and hold them until everything is better – no matter how long it takes – God has only given us 13 days to hold them.  But, these precious children are never out of His grasp.  He knows them deeper more intimately than I ever will.  He knows their pain, their needs, their dreams and their hearts inside and out.  Their pain is His pain.  Their lives are His passion.  His love overflows.

I need to remember my place in missions.  It isn’t for me to go and be the hero who swoops in and saves the day.  It is to introduce them to the one, true Savior through being the hands and feet in whatever manner He calls me to.  It is hard to think we can make any difference in 2 weeks.  However, our friend is still changing India, even after his death, from just one conversation.

It is all for God’s glory and fame.  Missions is all about God and what Christ did to reconcile us to God the Father as well as meeting very real and basic needs of those we are sent to.  But, I love that He is the God of details in that He doesn’t forget about the goer and how missions impacts them.  I’m not kidding when I’ve told people this trip may break my heart in two. I watch tears well up in friends’ eyes when I tell them about what we are walking into with this trip – my heart feels the same. But, God in His faithfulness will be with us to put Humpty Dumpty back together again for the 1,000th time if need be.

Clearly the focus of missions is who we are going to.  However, the enemy tries to come in the back door and discourage me to the point of not going.  What difference can one person really make?  What help do you really think you’ll be there?  Come on, you know you’re not equipped for this job – who are you kidding?  Admit it, you’re not strong enough for this assignment.  You know you won’t be able to handle the fact that you can’t make everything better.  It’s just 13 lousy days.  What can radically change in that short time? You’re only going to get kids attached to you, and then you will leave them just like everyone else.  How is that helping?

To that I answer with Scripture – And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth.  The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him.  But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.  I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. ~ John 14:16-18

Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen. ~ Matthew 28:20

So where we may be able to hold and rock and love on these children, we are finite and our help is finite.  But, the Trinity is eternal and will always be with those who call Jesus Lord.  More than a band-aid or a hug or a smile, we long to introduce them to the Healer.

Because of the inspirational life of our dear friend, and the encouraging words of my fellow mission traveler, I am pumped now more than ever to get there and get started.  God has shown me I am released from guilt over what I can’t control, but I have total freedom in Christ to do His work as He provides the opportunities.  The fact is, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, so He calls us to make the most of every day whether it’s one hour, 13 days, or decades in service for Him.

The lie that 13 days can’t make a difference has been forever re-written in my heart because of one conversation in the Caribbean that is still changing India and beyond.  The thought of even one child grasping the love of Jesus and the faithfulness of God to make a difference right in their own community excites me like never before!

I like how our pastor often says in his sermons regarding evangelizing, discipling, and sharing God’s love – Go get ‘em.  That’s exactly what we intend to do on this mission as we work to do it here at home.

May my mission friend’s words be a charge to us all – Give everything we have to the task for the time we are granted. Spend our time wisely today.  After all, while bearing the sobering reality of the loss of our friend, I am reminded that today is, indeed, all we have.

What do you do with a dream once you’ve caught it?

We all have dreams.  Some dreams emerge over time, taking shape like an image coming slowly into view as it moves closer to us – or we move closer to it.  Other dreams are like seeds planted in our hearts from birth. Innate desires and passions that in their stubborn nature cannot be squelched or quenched regardless of circumstance.

Bruce and I have dreams.  Some overlap.  Some do not.  It’s what makes our marriage interesting.

Those that overlap have been with us since childhood – to be married and have children.

God granted those dreams and turned them into reality for us, and we are grateful.  However, something happened when we got married.  Something we didn’t expect.

We’ve given witness to this account before, but there is specific purpose in sharing it today.  If you’ve heard it before, read until the end. :)

We were newlyweds (he was 23 and I was 19) working our way through college.  Bruce worked full-time and went to school part-time.  I did the opposite.  We found a very small foreclosed home and were able to move out of our one bedroom apartment and purchase this sweet dollhouse with all of its issues.  Fannie Mae fixed the things that made it livable – the rest was up to us.  We loved working on that house.  It was our hobby when not working or studying.

About a year and a half into our marriage, we were exhausted.  School, work, school, work.  Bruce worked all shifts.  I worked days.  We seldom saw each other and could only afford occasional lunch dates and took advantage of every free thing there was to do: walks, picnics, bike rides, the beach, sitting at the airport watching planes come and go, etc.  It was a beautiful, simple life.  Still, we were tired.  Very tired.

One Friday night, we made plans to fall off the grid for a little while.  A needed respite.  We packed up our cooler, kite, blankets, etc. and picked up our favorite dinner on the way – Subway sandwiches, chips and Sprite.

We drove to our favorite spot on our favorite beach (in FL) and walked what seemed like forever to get to our favorite spot.

There wasn’t a soul for miles – and we could for see miles in every direction.

The sun was about to set (FL folks know exactly how to time the sunset just right :) ) and we scurried to set up everything just so.  It was perfect.  A warm breeze blew, the sun boasted colors of pink, red and orange. Bruce staked the kite down as it gently floated.  The picnic was perfectly arranged on the blankets, and the best part was – no one else was around.

We are extroverts, but this night there was something different working in our hearts.  I’ll speak for myself…mind you my mom brought me up properly.  She taught me well, but everyone has a sinful nature…I was feeling very selfish.  It went something like this, Finally.  I have arrived   After a horrible childhood filled with drama, tragedy and loss I finally get my happily ever after.  I finally get my wish come true.  I want the world to just go away.  This is my time with my husband at our picnic and I don’t want to think about, talk to or acknowledge that anyone else in the world exists.

Pause – there is a time for rest and rejuvenation for sure.  There is nothing wrong with falling off the grid. However, my heart was cold and selfish toward anything else except what I wanted.  There lies the problem, and Bruce’s heart felt the same.

We had literally just finished setting out everything perfectly, timing it to the spectacular sunset melting into the Gulf Coast, when we breathed a big exhale of relief.

Suddenly, a man and a woman were standing there…not just anywhere…on our blanket!  What?!?!?

Where did they come from?  We could see for miles, and we knew for a fact there was no one as far as the eye could see.  Yet, here they were – on our blanket and in our space.

Bruce and I were so taken back we were completely speechless.

I can still see them in my mind’s eye.  Both with brown hair.  Both all in white.  She wore a long, white dress and was barefoot.  He wore a white pair of pants and a white button-down shirt (like you see in the movies) and was barefoot.

Stunned, we didn’t know what to say.  The man said hello.  The woman never said a word and stood slightly behind him.  They never even told us their names.

Oddly, we never felt unsafe or scared – and I am a VERY skeptical person.

The man called Bruce’s attention to the kite.  He began to talk to Bruce very causally, yet confidentially, about the physics of how a kite flies.  He spoke with ease and authority.  I’ve never heard anyone, ever, speak like he did.  The physics he spoke about was the EXACT same thing Bruce had just learned in his physics class all week.  Exactly the same.  Bruce said it was like the guy was in his class.  Bruce couldn’t find a word to say.  He just stood there listening in amazement.

The woman and I stood silent.  I had no words.  Odd for me, I know.  Typically I love talking to new people.  This time, I had one train of thought in my head, Leave.

Ouch.  That’s cold.  But, it’s how I felt.  After a long semester and tough week with work, I wanted to be left alone.  I wanted my man, my night, my dinner, my sunset, my beach trip, my life to be mine.  I was angry they were there.  I wanted them to go away because they were about to ruin our sunset moment.  So did Bruce for the same reasons, though both of us had been raised better than that.  This was not our shining moment.

After the man finished talking kite physics, he turned to us and looked down at our modest picnic all ready to eat.  He smiled and said, That’s looks good.

I thought, Okay, really???  Now he wants our food?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Why won’t they just leave! I’m not sharing.  Nope.  Not gonna do it.  No way.  No how.

I dug my stubborn, bare feet heels in the sand.  I felt the pull of my upbringing to always share, but my selfishness would have none of it.

The four of us stood there, on a small blanket rather squished together, looking down at the subs that the man called attention to. All of us stood in awkward silence.

I thought to myself, Well, I can stand here all night if that’s what it takes.  I’m not sharing.

After a very uncomfortable, long pause the man smiled and said, Well, we should be going.

Oh!  Leaving so soon? the bratty little girl inside me thought to herself.  I am so embarrassed to be confessing this.

Bruce and I pathetically mumbled, Well, okay then.  If you have to…

We still had no idea who they were, what they wanted, or how they appeared out of nowhere and were standing on our blanket.

Feeling guilty, we turned away from they as they began to walk away.  Bruce and I looked at each other said at the same time, We shouldn’t have done that.  We should have offered them dinner.

In the five seconds it took to say that, with changed hearts we turned back around to invite them back…and they were gone!

Gone! Gone! Gone!  Vanished!  Disappeared!

For all intense purposes, they should have been a few feet away from us in the seconds it took for us to change our minds.  Let’s get crazy and say they bolted as fast as they could and ran – so they would still have been just several feet from us – well within view.  Remember, we could see all the down the beach in all directions, and it was quite a hike for us to reach the edge of low tide.

Gone.  Bruce and I quickly looked at each other bug-eyed and breathless as I said to him in shock, You don’t think they were…

Angels, he replied.  Who else could they have been?

My heart sank in guilt. I asked God silently, What was that?!?!?

He answered with six words, And don’t let it happen again.

I knew exactly what He meant.  He saw our selfishness.  He tested us.  We failed.

He spoke to my heart, Your marriage is to be an extension of my open hand – always.

I knew.  I understood His point.  He blessed me with a happy ending from a horrific beginning of life, and I took that blessing and ran with it clutched tightly in my grasp.  I turned His blessing into my possession.  I wasn’t willing to share – not my food, not my man, not myself, not my time, not my energy, not my attention.  Nothing.

It’s ironic, all I wanted this man and woman to do was to leave.  Now all I wanted was for them to come back so I could have a re-do, a second chance.

After all, just think for a second about the missed opportunity!  These were angels!  Think of the questions we could have asked over sharing a Sprite.  Just think about it!  No.  Those questions would never have had the chance because before God ever put us to the test – He knew what our answer would be.

I’ve told Bruce several times over the years that I was so GLAD he was there to substantiate this account.  He has said the same about me.  In a time where there is so much falsehood, lies and twisting, no one knows who to believe.  We know exactly what happened on that Florida beach in 1992 and we’ve never been the same.

After that, we knew our marriage was blessed to be an extension of God’s hand, but didn’t know how.

Childhood dreams began percolating in our hearts to begin a family.  Three children later, we wanted a home to provide for our family.  This meant steady work for Bruce to help realize another dream we shared which was for me to stay home while our children are in our nest.

With a marriage, children, work and a larger home in play, we settled into a great church and neighborhood and the calendar began to fill up.  Having no idea how to raise children, we did what everyone else did – rec league sports, dance, gymnastics, and home parties selling Tupperware and Pampered Chef.  My days were busting at the seams as a volunteer at school and church, organizing play groups and working as both a cake decorator from home and as a freelance editor into the wee hours of the night.

We went to Disney World, Sea World, many beaches along the East Coast, camped, rafted, hiked, helped with homework, held garage sales, hosted Superbowl parties, bunco and Christmas shindigs.  I was a secret admirer for Valentine’s Day to my family, created leprechaun scavenger hunts for the kids on St. Patrick’s Day, oh I could go on and on and on.

We had the perfect life, right?  Wrong.

With all of these good things, came another side to it all.  It’s the side no one likes to talk about.  With all of this big life came big bills and big responsibilities of maintaining it all.

We had never had so much – either of us – in all our lives.  I don’t mean just tangible stuff, but so many places to be, people to see, things to do, commitments to keep, events to organize – it was too much.

We got our dream…in spades.  That season reminds me of when the Israelites were wandering lost in the dessert for 40 years and they craved meat.  They threw a hissy fit, so God gave them meat – until it was so much that it literally came out of their noses.  Gross!

He didn’t do this to us, rather we did it to ourselves.  It reminds me of Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 10:23, ”Everything is permissible” – but not everything is beneficial.  ”Everything is permissible” – but not everything is constructive.

We were into good things, but we had lost sight of balance and direction.  We had ourselves so over-committed that there was nothing left of us to give to God’s open hand.

Without realizing it, we had been consumed with the American ideal.  We had morphed into people we didn’t even recognize – all in the pursuit of the American dream.

That dream landed us in more debt, heavier weight, more exhaustion, and less peace than we’d ever experienced.  It also cost me my health by contracting mono.  That was the turning point for me.

I thank God He allowed me to get mono because it made me not just slow down, but stop.  I could barely lift my head off the pillow for weeks.  In that time, God taught me that there is such a thing as too much fun, too much work, just simply too much.

Dr. David Platt’s book, Radical, was part of the learning process.  I should’ve known by the tag line of the book “Taking back your faith from the American Dream.”  Naively, I continued to read it.

This book opened my eyes for the first time that the American dream has nothing to do with Christian living.  My toes felt stepped on.  I felt duped.  It was as though scales had fallen from my eyes when approached with the fact that the American dream was created by man, not by God.  God’s dreams and purposes for His people are so much bigger than 2.2 kids, a house, a job, a car and a great vacation with a retirement nest egg growing every year.

Being an American all my life, and living in America all my life, it’s like the doctrine of where I live got tangled up with God’s holy doctrine of what His grand design is for each of our lives.

Literally, I never gave a second thought to how, or if, these two are related.  They’re not.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to provide a decent life for our families.  Work is biblical.  Doing good works is biblical.  Providing is biblical.  But what are we pursuing?

What is our heart pursuing?  Is it God’s passions or ours?  That’s what my heart wrestled with.

Bruce and I had many deep conversations about life and goals and passions and dreams during this time.  We agreed that we had become swept up more in the pursuing of the American dream than in pursuing God’s purposes for our lives.  We never meant to.  It was like a slow I.V. drip of disillusionment that kept us in a hazy, sleepy stupor all in the name of family…but not necessarily in the name of God.

More than wanting to look like a Norman Rockwell painting, we needed our world to be rocked.  It wasn’t a perfect life by any stretch.  We faced unemployment, family deaths, difficult seasons of our children’s lives, and personal struggles.  Drama begets drama and we didn’t need more of that.  We needed something to wake us up…to save us from ourselves.

Enter missions.

When the prospect to go to Kenya came, our world was flipped upside down and turned inside out.  Suddenly, everything we saw, touched, tasted and heard was different.  God replaced our Americana viewpoint with lenses that reflect His passions, His hurts, His love and His dream.

Since Kenya and Ukraine, and now as we prepare for this year’s mission, we feel no ownership of anything that passes through our hands – and those things have no ownership over us.

I remember the day when Salvation Army came to pick up our dining set.  An expensive, nice set complete with seating for 12, a sideboard buffet, mirror and huge hutch with glass shelving and recessed lighting   All in excellent condition.  The reality was that we didn’t need it, and we got excited about the prospect of it being a blessing to someone else.  I remember the deliver guy looking at it and saying to me, Wow, this is nice stuff you are donating.  I smiled and thought to myself, Yep, and someone will really enjoy it.

We’ve had so much fun getting rid of stuff!  With every bag came the thought that someone else has really been needing or wanting this.  That gives us way more joy than hanging onto it.

We finally got what Jeff understood in Radical, “For the first time, Jeff realized that God has a purpose for his life that was greater than the pursuit of the next bigger thing.  So Jeff decided to walk away from the American dream.” (Radical, pg 81).

We are in the middle of some major kitchen repairs, and neighbors who see the trucks coming and going are kind and curious to ask how everything is going.  I am happy to talk about it, but I’d much rather talk about this year’s mission and what God is up to there.  Or Kenya, and what God is doing there.  Or Ukraine, and how God is moving there.  Or here in the States and the ways He is touching lives here.  THAT is what excites me!

We need the kitchen repairs and gutting for maintenance & property value purposes.  However, at the end of the day I am grateful for the blessing of doing it, but can now keep it in its proper place in our lives.  I don’t get up in the morning to simply run out and stand in the kitchen.  But I do wake up every morning with places on my mind and the people whom we’ve never met but have already taken hold of my heart.  I get excited about the cooking camps we will be hosting as fundraisers to get us to our destination, and how much better the layout and flow will be for the girls and boys cooking in our home.  I think about baking for the bake sale that benefits Samaritan’s Purse in this kitchen.  I think about the deep conversations we will have with our children at the table about life, love and dreams.  I think about the dinners Bruce and I will share – just the two of us – and am reminded that missions begins at home.

This new way of life, pursuing God’s dreams and not the American dream, has helped me loosen my unhealthy grip on my children – and accept that fact they have always been God’s first.  Doing that has led me to deal with heart issues and baggage that have weighed me down far too long.

See how beautiful the tapestry of God’s grand design is?  He works for the good of His children – both those who call Him by name and those who have yet too…but will.  It is for these that missions exists, but God in His faithfulness heals both them and those sent to them.  He is so good.

I believe that 21 years later, we have come full circle to that evening on the beach.  I am just now beginning to understand what His open hand means to our family.  I’ve learned a lot in the last 21 years and will chew on these lessons the rest of my life.  Praise God He is in the business of redemption and restoration.  He restores the years the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

God used missions to minister to us so we might minister to others.  Missions, to me, is like the toggle in the movie Inception.  In a world that is becoming more of a mirage every day, distorting and confusing us, the Great Commission given by Christ in Matthew 28:18-20 is my toggle that I look for to keep this world separated from the new world that is yet to come.  It keeps me focused on the bigger picture, God’s passions and what kind of life pleases Him.  It takes my eyes off of myself and places them on people and places that have God’s fingerprints all over them.  Missions allows me to become less so that He may become more.

I love being an American, but I’ve walked away from the American dream.  I have chosen to follow God’s purposes which will outlast everything else.  If I cling to the American dream, then I would never be open to what God may ask us to do.  After all, the Americana lifestyle is one of tangible success and comfort.  Jesus came for neither of these.  He came to serve, not be served.

If Jesus followed me around for a day, would He be excited about the work I do in my 24/7?  Guess what?  He does follow us around because He is always with us.

I had to release my life from my own grip so that God’s open hand could be extended. I don’t ever want to miss His divine appointment again because I couldn’t see past myself.

We haven’t had anymore angelic encounters on the beach, but we do have many opportunities to be His hands and feet.  May it never take an angel to call us back to a place we never should have left – right in the middle of God’s heart.

Holy Week, Sunday

Wow.  We’ve waited all week for this day!  Hallelujah, Christ has risen!  I’m glad you are back.  Yesterday’s blog was a rough read, but we made it through some tough questions and the gruesome reality of Christ’s death.  Today, we get to celebrate our Risen Savior!  Read the Good News with me below…

Matthew 28: 1-6

1After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. 2 There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4 The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men. 5 The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. 6 He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.
1 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. 2So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!” 3 So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. 4 Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5 He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. 6 Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, 7 as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. 8 Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9 (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) 10 Then the disciples went back to their homes, 11 but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. 13 They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”  “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14 At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. 15 “Woman,” he said, “why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”  Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”  16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”  She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher). 17 Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” 18 Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her.

Jesus fulfilled every prophecy about Himself in the Old Testament.  He came.  He saw.  He conquered!  We now have the privilege of eternal life with Jesus -the Rock who totally rocks!!

Enjoy this day!  If you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, rest in the blessed assurance, the promise, of all of the good things to come in heaven where thieves cannot steal and rust and moths cannot destroy.  Both now and forever we will never again experience separation from God.  Our sins have been pardoned, and the debt we owed has been paid.  We are free to enjoy an abundant life!  More than what I could write today, I want to offer Jesus’ own prayer for you.  A prayer He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane right before He was arrested.  Sit back.  Breathe deeply.  Breathe in the words of our living, risen Christ.  His prayer for you and for me…

John 17: 20-26 - Jesus prayers for all believers

20 “My prayer is not for (the disciples) alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: 23I in them and you in me. May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.   24 “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.   25 “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 26 I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

Jesus – our King, Savior, Brother, Friend.  He is awesome, mighty and loving.  Commune with Him today.  Thank Him for His sacrifice.  Praise Him for His works.  Worship Him for who He is.  Remember your roots today.  As a believer, our lives are not our own.  We have been bought with a price; ransomed from death; saved from our sins.  As Paul wrote in Galatians…

Galatians 2:20 - I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

As we move about our day today and for all of our days to come, we need to think, speak and behave as those who really are citizens of another Kingdom; not of this world.  We should be different from the world, so others look at us and wonder what it is that we have – indeed it is Christ’s salvation that we should share.  I recall something Priscilla Shirer once said in a Bible study.  She quoted her father’s words, which are so fitting for today.  Remember who you are – and Whose you are.  

We carry the cross in our hearts and it should remain on our minds.  We have also been given the freedom to radically enjoy this life that God has planned for us.  Let’s thank our Lord Jesus for all He suffered through and for keeping His promise and rising from the dead.  He is the real deal.  He is King of kings and Lord of lords.  Praise Him!  Happy Easter! :)

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Holy Week, Saturday

Yesterday we reflected on the brutal murder of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Despite what the people thought they were accomplishing, let’s not forget Jesus offered Himself as a sacrifice.

John 10: 17-18, The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father.

Today, Holy Week Saturday, there is a strange air stirring around us.  Like watching for a tornado or hurricane, the sense of impending doom is thick.  Eerie.  Deafeningly silent.  Because this time two thousand years ago, Christ was dead.

Before the clock ticks forward, I have to back up for a second.  People like to talk about who they would like to meet in Heaven.  I have a few people for sure.  One of them is lesser known than the other high-profile Bible names.  Enter Joseph of Arimathea.  He was rich.  He was a Jew and a member of the Sanhedrin; and he had become a disciple of Christ – a scandalous thing for a Jewish priest to do.

After Jesus died, Joseph approached Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body to give Him a proper burial on Friday night so as to avoid having His lifeless body hang there on the Sabbath.  Pilate granted his request.

Matthew 27: 59-60 - Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away.

When I get to Heaven, I would really like to talk to Joseph.  Think about it, he had accepted Christ as His Savior.  The same Savior whom He was about to bury.  How must it have felt to bury one’s Savior?  The cross was a gruesome scene.  Joseph himself took Jesus down off of it.  That must have been a horrific task.  After the 39 lashes, chunks of skin and meat must have fallen off of Jesus as Joseph navigated His body down from the cross.  How did Joseph release Jesus’ hands and feet from the nails driven through them that sealed them to the cross?  Did he drive the nails back through Jesus’ flesh?  Joseph surely was a bloody mess from handling Jesus’ body.  Did he wash his clothes and wear them again, or did He never wash or wear them again out of respect and as a reminder of what Jesus endured?  Hmm.

When Joseph wrapped Jesus’ body in the linen, his hands surely dug into the insides of Jesus that were exposed from the flogging.  Recall that Jesus was unrecognizable – His face deformed from the swelling of His beard being plucked out, flesh missing, His body covered in dirt and blood.  What was it like for Joseph to remove the crown of thorns that had been gouged into Jesus’ head?  There must have been some small sense of satisfaction to undo the ridicule that the people had done to Jesus.  A feeling of justice for a dead man.  Did some of the thorns stick in His head and need to be hand-plucked like a mother removes a splinter from her child – careful, tenderly, in love?  Are you  still reading?  Can we stomach it?  I don’t think I can find words to understand what Joseph was feeling.  Every drop of blood shed, every point of agony Jesus suffered was for Joseph – and for you and me.  Joseph must have felt like an accomplice to the crime, since it was his sin, like everyone else’s, that cost Jesus His innocent life.  I know I do.

Jesus was wrapped and placed in Joseph’s personal tomb.  A boulder was rolled in front of it, symbolizing the finality of it all.  Joseph went away.  Did he go home?  Did he go pray in the temple?  Did he take a long, sobering walk lamenting over the day’s events?  So many, many questions.

I’m not the only one with questions.  Think about the disciples.  Could they be more confused?  Bewildered?  They thought Jesus was going to rebuild Jerusalem and they would be right there as His biggest campaign supporters.  Jesus was gone and so was their hope, dreams, and both their religious and political vision.  The disciples were gone, too.  All of them dispersed in utter confusion and fear.  Were they next?  Would they be hunted down and killed for following Jesus?  Not now.  Not yet.

One person stands out among the fleeing disciples.  Peter.  Always full of words and a dose of emotion, Peter was zealous, impulsive and at times he didn’t know when to stop talking.  Such was not the case at this point.  In fact, he tried hard to blend in and not say a word.  This, the same man who cut off a solider’s ear in haste in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Now, Peter wasn’t doing the talking – unless it was to deny Christ, his Savior – just as Christ had told him he would do.

Luke 22:54-62

54 Then seizing him, they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest. Peter followed at a distance. 55 But when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter sat down with them. 56A servant girl saw him seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, “This man was with him.” 57 But he denied it. “Woman, I don’t know him,” he said. 58 A little later someone else saw him and said, “You also are one of them.”   “Man, I am not!” Peter replied. 59 About an hour later another asserted, “Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean.” 60 Peter replied, “Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. 61 The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times. 62 And he went outside and wept bitterly.
Peter catches a lot of flack for his impulsive actions and chatty tongue.  However, are we much different?  How quick are we to disown Jesus when pushed into a corner?  Peer pressure at work, school, and in the neighborhood can tempt us to blend in like Peter tried to do.  Tough moral choices seep into the private parts of our hearts and whisper to us to follow the road more widely traveled.  Sometimes our faith is called out in front of many people when we are the only person against whatever everyone else is doing that we know is wrong.  Sometimes we are all alone, thinking no one knows but us what we are  contemplating.  Oh, but we are not alone.  God is watching.  He is not sitting on His throne with bulging bloodshot eyes, lightening bolt in hand – ready to strike us down.  He is cheering for us to make the right decision.  He sent His Holy Spirit to guide and direct us down the right path.  Jesus, our High Priest, always intercedes on our behalf.  We have all of Heaven watching and waiting and supporting us in the right thing!  So why do we feel so alone?  Like Peter.

The disciples didn’t understand Jesus’ teaching on raising the temple in three days.  They were looking with their physical eyes at physical structures.  No.  The temple was standing right in front of them – talking to them.  They knew not, and their hopes were dashed.

Have you ever felt that way?  Your world just fell apart, yet you are stuck living in it like being trapped in a house of mirrors.  I have.  What do we do?  When things are at their very worst, do we accept or deny Christ?  If we look deeper at Peter, later, when Jesus had risen and was reinstating Peter back into the fellowship, Peter said he loved Jesus.  I believed he loved Him all along.  In the moment when Peter was warming himself by the fire, he was scared half to death.  He was in shock, confused, angry, frustrated, and probably sick to his stomach after watching his beloved Savior be snatched in the night like a common criminal.  Still, Peter denied Christ.

Today, let us inventory our hearts and expose the areas that we have denied Christ.  For some, you have never accepted Him.  Will you today?  In the figurative hour of Christ’s death – His body lying in the tomb, do you believe?  After all, we know the ending of the book – Christ indeed rises from the dead.  And we will celebrate that tomorrow with thankful, joyful hearts!  But, if you have never accepted Him as your personal Savior, you will not be at the party.  Easter dinner may be enjoyed, perhaps the Easter Bunny will have hopped to your house, and there may be family to share the day with, but this is your time to make it personal – to make Jesus Christ personal to you and become your Savior.

Jesus says in Revelation 3:20, Here I am!  I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.

How?  Romans 10:9-13, That if you confess with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved. As the Scripture says, “Anyone who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile—the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Perhaps you need to be reinstated?  Once saved, we never lose our salvation.  Nothing and no one can take it away from us, but perhaps you have made decisions that have denied Christ and led your life away from Him.  Christ wants you back.  He misses you.  God and Jesus have never ever stopped loving you.  There is nothing we have done that is beyond their reach.  Today, right now, listen to the One who calls you by name.  Are you wondering if the choices you’ve made have been even too much for God to love you, want you?  Read below the words of Jesus Himself…

Luke 15: 17-24  (Read the entire parable in Luke 15: 11-32)

17 “When (the lost son) came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

Did you know that in their day, a rich father would have never ran like that?  It was undignified!  When we understand the context of the parable, we are even more amazed at God’s love for us.  God and Jesus are not concerned with human standards – they love you and want you to come back to the family.  Will you?  As a believer, you’ve never stopped being part of the family…but you’ve been terribly missed.  How can you be brought back?

1 John 1:9, If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

Today, we wait in eager anticipation for tomorrow’s celebration.  It’s not too late to join the party.  I pray you will.

Let’s put ourselves in the disciples’ shoes throughout today, feeling the despair they felt.  But, let’s also set our hearts up for a massive celebration that tomorrow will bring – and in fact, already brought two thousand years ago.  I’m smiling already.  But for now, as we lay out church clothes and look over the Easter menu’s shopping list, let’s not overlook what this day was for the disciples and those who believed.  It is bittersweet indeed.

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