Sadness and Joy

It seems there is so much sadness in the world lately. From the Boston Marathon bombings to the tornadoes that ripped through Shawnee and Moore, Oklahoma, it seems tragedy and loss are everywhere. It seems like on Facebook people are having to say goodbye to loved ones, where they be furry or people.

It can be overwhelming if you let it. The magnitude of pain around the world right now is massive. So many people are hurting, so many are suffering, so many seem like they have nothing to look forward to but more hurt and suffering.

But as callous and unfeeling as this may sound, you can still have joy. Joy is not a denial of what happened in Boston or Oklahoma. Joy doesn’t turn a blind eye toward those who have suffered and lost. Joy sees past the pain to the God who waits on the other side. The beautiful part is that God is on both sides of the pain and walking with you through it.

I love an illustration a pastor gave. Jesus isn’t limited by time and space, so he’s in your present with you. He’s also in your future, so that the promises he gave you are already as good as done. He’s in your past in that moment when you were wounded, ready to heal you so that your past wounds no longer bleed into your present. He’s in all three places at once.

I am convinced that sadness and joy can coexist. It’s only right to grieve what’s lost. But we don’t grieve as those who have no hope. We grieve with hope that one day God will set everything right and will restore a thousand-fold what we’ve lost or given up. We grieve as those who know that our troubles are only a blip on the radar screen compared to the glory that awaits and that what we suffer pales in comparison with the ultimate joy that awaits us.

So my heart aches for all those in pain tonight, but my heart rejoices that while there may be pain in the night, joy comes in the morning.

 

Praying for Boston Tonight

“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (Genesis 50:20).

I, like so many of you, just happened to turn on the television and spent the next several minutes trying to figure out what was happening at the Boston Marathon. The more I watched, the more I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It felt like I was watching a disaster movie.

It was horrific. People being carried away with missing limbs and blood splatters on the streets isn’t what you normally see on the news, especially that early in the day. The same feeling I had on 9/11 came back, only this time it felt scarier even though the terrorist attack was on a much smaller scale. I thought, “This could have happened anywhere at any marathon or half-marathon or 5k. It could have been The Music City Marathon and one of my friends who got caught in the explosions.”

I still have trouble accepting that it really happened. Did some deranged lunatic really blow up a bomb, then set the second one to go off just as the first responders were arriving? Did he really put shrapnel int the bombs to make them more lethal? Did he target that 8-year old boy or did he just have the misfortune to be in the way?

I can’t fathom the logic behind something like this. This level of evil goes beyond anything my mind can comprehend. A part of me wants to see this guy caught and shown no mercy, the way he showed mo mercy to these victims.

Then I remember the story of Joseph. How he suffered atrocities at the hands of his own brothers. How he ended up sold into slavery, the first victim of human trafficking in recorded history.

I especially remember his words in Genesis 50. What people intended for harm and for evil, God turned it into good and to salvation for a whole nation. Not only did survival come out of these atrocities, but salvation came through the person of Jesus, from the lineage of David.

I don’t know how, but I do know God will turn this heinous evil into good– someway, somehow. I don’t mean the act itself was good or that the aftermath is anything worth celebrating, but a reason for all of us to mourn and weep.

Yet I do believe that there will be stories that come out of this that will glorify God. Stories of people who sacrificed their bodies and lives so that others could live. Stories of how people came together as one, running toward the carnage when others were running away, and giving a little glimpse of what the Kingdom of God looks like.

The most shocking part of all is that God offers forgiveness even to the very individual who plotted and carried out one of the worst acts of terrorism ever. No one is too low for God to reach and no one is beyond his love. No one.

So I’m praying for the families of the victims and for those who are suffering with wounds that are more than just physical. I’m praying for God to make this and every other act of evil right.

I’m praying more fervently than ever, “Come, Lord Jesus, come!”

Yet I know that one day someone’s testimony of faith will start out something like “I remember exactly where I was when those bombs went off at the end of the Boston Marathon and when God showed up to me in a very real way.”

PS Interestingly enough, today’s Bible verse of the day on my You Version app was Hebrews 12:1-2: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Those Crazy Spider Monkeys!

I heard something very interesting about monkeys and coconuts. And no, there’s not a Monty Python joke coming. Or a reference to any Animal Planet show currently airing.

I heard that a way to trap a spider monkey is to drill a hole in a coconut just big enough for its hand to fit in and put food in there. The little monkeys will reach in and grab the food, but with their hands in a fist clutching their prize, they can’t pull it out again.

The end result is either death or capture.

My first reaction is: aren’t those just greedy little monkeys?

My second is: what is so great about what they’re holding onto that they can’t let go?

Then I wonder how many times I’ve been trapped like that by holding onto something I don’t need to. Like a wound from my past. Or maybe a failure I can’t forgive myself for. Or maybe a selfish desire of mine.

Maybe you’re holding onto your idea of how your life should play out. Maybe it’s a relationship that’s toxic and hazardous to your health and your heart. Maybe it’s unforgiveness that keeps you up nights. It could be anything that takes the place of Jesus in your heart. Even good things.

Whatever it is, you can’t move forward until you let it go. You can’t be free unless you release your grasp of whatever it is that you’re white-knuckling.

I’m reminded of a story of a little girl whose father gave her some imitation pearls. She loved those pearls and wore them everywhere. She even slept in them. But one day her dad asked the unthinkable.

“Give me your pearls,” he said.

“No, Daddy. You can have anything else. My dollies, my stuffed animals, but not my pearls.”

So he let it go that night. But he asked again the next night. And the night after that.

Finally, with tears in her eyes, she said, “Yes, Daddy. You can have my pearls.”

With one hand he took the imitation pearls, and with the other he gave her a box containing very real and very expensive pearls. He had been waiting for her to let go of the imitation so she could have the real thing.

What are you holding onto that keeps you from receiving what God has for you? It may be a good thing, but if it keeps you from God’s best, let it go. If it keeps you from full devotion and obedience to Jesus, let it go.

Trust me, what you give up won’t even compare to what you get in compare. Or as a guy named Jim Elliot once said, “He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

An Easter Reboot

“The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity and held safe in an everlasting embrace… We must dare to opt consciously for our chosenness and not allow our emotions, feelings, or passions to seduce us into self-rejection” (Henri Nouwen).

The stone was rolled away from the door, not to permit Christ to come out, but to enable the disciples to go in” (Peter Marshall).

Sometimes, it takes Easter to get my mind refocused. Like so many of you, I can get off track so very easily and forget who I am and what I’m here for. I need to be reminded that I am indeed the beloved, the chosen child of God. My purpose is to live that out as best I can, to become what God has already declared me to be.

I take Easter for granted because I already know how the story ends. Or at least I think I do.

In fact, Easter isn’t an end, but a beginning. C. S. Lewis in his book, The Last Battle, said that all of history was merely a title page and a preface. Eternity is the real beginning of the book, where each chapter is better than the last and the story is truly neverending.

Easter reminds me that my forgiveness might have been free for me, but not free. it might have not cost me anything, but it was not without cost. I don’t need to forget that my forgiveness cost God the very highest price and is the most extravagant gift ever given in history. I don’t need to take that lightly or for granted.

Easter also reminds me that failure isn’t final, that goodbyes aren’t forever, and that truth and faith and love and hope all survive the grave and come out stronger on the other side. I guess that’s why I love it so much.

 

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Good Friday

“[B]ut we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:21).

It’s easy to skip past this part on the way to the Easter Sunday celebrations, but this year I feel the need to slow down and try to appreciate what the disciples must have been going through at this point.

Their leader, Jesus, was dead and in the tomb. Their hopes and dreams had been dashed to pieces and they had nothing left. The one they loved had left them.

I know what it’s like to have to say goodbye to a loved one. It’s not easy. To realize you can never go back and unsay harsh words or say words of love. To know that this is final.

All the disciples had at the moment was pieces of a shattered faith and each other. All they could do was sit silently in the same room, lost for words that could possibly bring comfort or understanding. It had all happened so fast. One moment, Jesus was with them, laughing and encouraging them to be strong, the next he was gone.

I wonder if any of the disciples got trapped in the cycle of “if only.” If only we hadn’t gone to Jerusalem. If only we had recognized Judas’ true colors before. If only we could have gotten away from the garden sooner. If only.

They still had so many questions to ask Jesus. There was still so much they didn’t understand, especially about when he said he could raise up the temple again in three days.

Who else would show them the Father in such a real and tangible way? Who else would open up the Scriptures in such a fresh and vibrant way? Who else would teach by such authority?

They had no answers, only questions.

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.

It Is Well

“When the man of God saw her at a distance, he said to Gehazi his servant, ‘Behold, there is the Shunammite. ²⁶ Please run now to meet her and say to her, ‘Is it well with you? Is it well with your husband? Is it well with the child?’’ And she ^[o]answered, ‘It is well.’” (2 Kings 4:25-26).

I was reminded of a great truth today. The context is a story about Elisha and a Shunammite woman in whose house he had stayed. She had given birth to a son late in life, probably the only child she would ever bear, only to watch him die in her arms. His body was still warm when she spoke those words.

How could she say, “It is well,” after losing her only son? I don’t think I could. I might be raging and cursing and lashing out at God and everybody else, but “It is well” would be the last words out of my mouth.

Those words she spoke are a perfect picture of the difference between joy and happiness. Happiness is circumstantial, depending on what happens. Joy is not. You can be supremely unhappy and still have joy, because joy is grounded in the knowledge that God will make every thing right one day.

In her case, God worked through Elisha to bring her son back to life. Sometimes he makes things right in this life. But not always.

I was also reminded of the story of Horatio Spafford, a man who wrote a very famous hymn. He had send his wife and three daughters across the sea to England, but was unable to accompany them due to some business he had to attend to. On the way back, the ship collided with another vessel and sank and his three daughters drowned. His wife sent the infamous telegram that read “Saved alone.”

When he was on his way to meet his wife in England, he passed the spot where the horrific accident had occurred and penned these words:

“When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul”

I pray for that kind of faith that can bring me joy even in the worst of circumstances, knowing that even in those times God is still in control. May your joy never waver and your faith in God only grow stronger in the days to come.

 

Mourning a Friend

I found this in the preface of a book I bought for $3. I thought it spoke so beautifully to those who have had to say goodbye to loved ones this side of heaven. I believe it’s by Charles Wesley and I hope it speaks to you the way it did to me:

“If death my friend and me divide,
Thou dost not, Lord, my sorrow chide,
Or frown my tears to see;
Restrained from passionate excess,
Thou bidst me mourn in calm distress
For them that rest in Thee.

I feel a strong immortal hope,
Which bears my mournful spirit up
Beneath its mountain load;
Redeemed from death, and grief, and pain,
I soon shall find my friend again
Within the arms of God.

Pass a few fleeting moments more
And death the blessing shall restore
Which death has snatched away;
For me Thou wilt the summons send,
And give me back my parted friend
In that eternal day.”

My Last Day on Earth

I was thinking about the shootings at the movie theatre in Colorado today. Not in a morbid way. I was thinking what if I was one of those 12 people who went into the theatre to see The Dark Knight Rises, never realizing that my life was about to end.

What if I knew that today was my last day? How would it change how I lived?

I know I’d be more forgiving and understanding of others, far less quick to pass judgments and far more eager to give grace and the benefit of the doubt. I’d be more forgiving of myself when I do and say stupid stuff.

I’d spend less time getting the to-do list checked off and much more time hanging out with the people who matter to me.

I’d be braver and take more chances. Probably not sky-diving or bull-riding, but I’d do at least one thing that I’d been scared of doing before.

I’d appreciate the people in my life who have really been my friends and family and who have loved me when I wasn’t too easy to love and supported and encouraged me when I needed it most.

I’d make every effort to let the people in my life know how much they meant to me and how grateful I was for them, because no tomorrow is guaranteed for me or for anyone else. I would never assume that people know how special and uniquely-created they are; I’d tell them.

I’d be a lot more thankful for the little things in my life like the sun rising every morning, the flowers that bloom every spring, the sweet scent of summer air that takes me back to my childhood. I’d say “Thank you, God,” a lot more and really mean it.

What if I lived every day of the rest of the life God gives me as if it were my last day?

 

Two Hearts Beat as One

I was getting ready to mow the back yard when God brought an image to my mind. I thought of an article I read online a few months back about an elderly couple who died holding hands. This doesn’t happen often, but I literally dropped everything and got to my laptop to get this all down while it’s still fresh in my head.

The couple was Gordon and Norma Yeager, married for 72 years when they were both involved in a car accident. When they got to the ER, they were both more concerned about the other than themselves. Finally, they got moved to a room with side-by-side hospital beds where they could hold hands.

He died first. But that’s where it gets interesting. I’ll quote a bit of the article.

“Someone in there said, ‘Why, then, when we look at the monitor is the heart still beating?’” Sheets recalled. “The nurse said Dad was picking up Mom’s heartbeat through Mom’s hand.”

“And we thought, ‘Oh my gosh, Mom’s heart is beating through him,’” Dennis Yeager said.

That to me is what a Godly marriage looks like. That is also a beautiful picture of fellowship and community in the body of Christ. That’s a perfect picture of divine love shown in it’s fullest and most complete expression.

We should be so connected and intertwined as believers that I cry when you hurt and I suffer when you are in pain. That your sorrows are my sorrows and your joys my joys. I think the Bible calls that carrying each other’s burdens.

Most of all, I want to be that way with Jesus. I want to be so close to Him that people can feel His heart beating through mine. I want to be so intimate with Him that His heartbeat literally becomes mine and I can see people through His eyes and reach out to them with His hands and love them with His heart.

I want my heart to be broken over what breaks the heart of God. No just when I’m serving in missions or when I’m in a church service, but all the time, everywhere I go for everyone I meet.

May that be your heartbeat also. May that be the one desire of your heart.

By the way, if you want to read more about the Yeagers, you can go here. http://abcnews.go.com/US/iowa-couple-married-72-years-dies-holding-hands/story?id=14771029

From one beggar who has found the Bread of Life and is trying to tell everyone else how to find it, too.

The Ticket

Sometimes you are reading along in a good book and something jumps out of the text and you have to stop and re-read it at least two or three more times. That’s the way it was for me reading The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.

She was talking about being fearful of persecution or death. Her father described it like a child with a train ticket.

The father doesn’t give the child the ticket months and months ahead, because the child might misplace it or accidentally tear it up. The father waits until they are ready to board the train until he gives the ticket to the child.

In the same way, we find that we are given grace to handle adversity not way before, but just as we are about to face it.

Jesus told His disciples not to worry about what they would say when facing hostile persecution. He promised that at just the right time, the Holy Spirit would give them the words to speak. Time after time, the disciples were able to speak out with a boldness that could only come from the indwelling power of the resurrected Christ.

Are you worried about the passing of a loved one? Are you fearful of your own death? Are you anxious about how you would handle persecution and if you would deny Christ and live rather than die professing His name?

Just trust Him for today and let tomorrow take care of itself. Pray for strength for the day and whenever death or trouble or trials come, you will find that God gives you what you need to stand up in it.

You find that your world didn’t end like you thought it would and you will hear words coming out of your mouth that only Jesus could put there. You will find strength in the exact moment you need it, usually not a moment before.

I love this quote from The Hiding Place about how each of us will face Jesus when we die:

“Dear Jesus, thank You that we must come with empty hands. I thank You that You have done all . . .on the cross, and that all we need in life or death is be sure of this.”