Just 10 Percent

Bible teacher and author Chuck Swindoll is credited with saying, “I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes.” When I was younger, I liked this quote, but I quibbled with the numbers. Surely, we are in control of our reactions and attitudes. And our circumstances don’t determine our lives completely. But just 10%?! What about those whose circumstances are overwhelmingly tragic?

I thought of some of my father’s experiences, and it seemed as though what happened to him in four short years should have had a greater impact on his life. During the four short years that my father was in high school (1945-1948), his family experienced at least three tragedies. Dad grew up on a farm. His dad was a dairy farmer, as was his grandfather. Dad grew up expecting that he would, along with his father and brothers, spend the rest of his life as a farmer. But then, everything changed. First, Dad’s oldest brother was drafted into the Army at the very end of World War 2. Though my uncle was not in combat, he was badly wounded in Germany, as his unit was sent in to find unexploded bombs and land mines, and ordered to clear out rubble. Dad had lost one cousin in the war, and several others had come home wounded or changed, but this was post-war, and unexpected. It meant more work for my grandfather and the two younger sons, even as they were still in school. It meant uncertainty, as they waited for word from thousands of miles away over several months.

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Uncle Jack recovered and returned to the farm. But then, on Christmas Eve, there was a house fire. While the family escaped without major injuries, the house was a total loss. Furniture, clothes, pictures, heirlooms, farm records and financial papers– all gone. Dad moved in with his aunt and uncle to continue his education. But two weeks before graduation, his father died suddenly from complications from emergency gall bladder surgery. My father’s world had been turned upside-down in just a few short years and at a critical juncture in his life.

However, as I’ve matured and thought about it over the years, those events, among other tragedies and triumphs in Dad’s life, really DID only amount to a small percentage of his life. Even numerically/chronologically, those four years were less than ten percent of Dad’s time on earth. Dad couldn’t control the events of those years. He couldn’t have predicted them, and he couldn’t erase them or go back and undo them. But he chose how to respond and react to those events. He learned from them.

Circumstances in our lives, whether tragic or terrific, present us with choices. Will we turn to God, or away from Him? Will we become better, or bitter? Will we seek to assign blame, or seek solutions? My dad and his brothers were not able to continue the dairy farm their father had built up. Without the records and registration papers for the various cows, without their father’s experience and acumen, without money to upgrade their facilities and equipment, they had to sell most of what their father had built up. Uncle Jack kept the farm land, but he took a second job. Dad was drafted and sent to Korea for his own post-war odyssey, and came home to work at the local feed mill, and later in a factory job. He passed away several years ago, partly as a result of complications from gall bladder surgeries.

My dad’s life was impacted and shaped in part by tragic circumstances. But Pastor Swindoll is right– at least 90 percent of my dad’s LIFE was shaped by his attitude and character. My father was a man of faith and integrity. He cherished his family and his role as a father– partly because of the loss of his own dad; but also because of the lasting legacy his father had passed on. He spoke often of his wonderful memories growing up on the farm. He lost out on his dream of being a farmer. But he also made wonderful memories with the life he chose to pursue off the farm– picnics and vacations, family reunions, family devotions, watching baseball (live or on TV), sharing laughter and tears, and making sure we knew we were loved and protected. He ministered to people in the community, mowing lawns for widows, or visiting shut-ins. He taught us to love music, baseball, and animals. He taught us the value of prayer, reading the Bible, and living a life of faith. Dad could have been bitter. He could have chosen to wallow in self-pity or anger. He could have become obsessed with rebuilding the life he “lost” to circumstances. He could have decided that God had “robbed” him of the future he had expected to have. But he chose to believe that God had a plan for his life; one that was bigger than his boyhood dreams and bigger than his expectations. Dad didn’t rise to great wealth and power. In the world’s view, his life was not a great success. He never became rich or famous; he wasn’t powerful or important in politics or business. But the memories he treasured and the relationships he developed were far more than 10% of his life!

As I get older, and look back on the circumstances of my own past, I am encouraged and challenged to think that they represent only a small fraction of my life. I can’t control many of my circumstances– health setbacks, financial struggles, accidents and tragedies. But I can control my attitude and my response. I wanted to marry young and have children and raise a family. But that never happened. I married late, I was barren, and my step-children were already grown. I wanted to live in a big farmhouse; instead I live in a small apartment. But I would not go back and undo the circumstances that have shaped my life. I have marvelous step-children and grandchildren. I have had opportunities that were only possible because I was single for so long and because I was childless. I have a better appreciation for the family I have– including nieces and nephews and cousins– than I might have had if I had been wrapped up in my own smaller family. Dad taught me to trust God’s plans for my tomorrows. That’s what he did. And I choose to do the same– after all, God controls 100% of my future!

May 8, 2023 0

Reflections on My Mother’s Life

I wrote last week that my mother was dying. She passed away on Monday afternoon. And since much of my pursuit of prayer is a reflection on the Godly example she set, I thought I should say a few words in honor of her passing from this life to Eternity.

Mom was a prayer warrior. I don’t often use that term, and don’t like to see it overused or misused. Just because someone claims to pray a lot, or just because they are active in church doesn’t make them a prayer warrior. But Mom was one. She battled to be informed of the needs of those around her (and those far away, too!). She wanted to know about every concern, every heartache, every health need, every financial need, every broken relationship– not just out of curiosity, and not for gossip or condemnation– she didn’t want to miss any opportunity to pray for someone else! She wanted to listen and offer comfort, encouragement, and, occasionally, advice.

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My mom loved prayer. She loved Bible study and worship, fellowship, missions, and thanksgiving, too, but she was absolutely wild about prayer! She led various Bible studies, Sunday School classes, and Ladies groups during her long and active lifetime, and each one began and ended with prayer– prayer in the preparation, prayer in asking God to direct each meeting, prayer in follow-up–Quick prayers, fervent prayers, joyful prayers and humble prayers.

Mom prayed through her worship. Often a song sung (before she got so she couldn’t sing) was a song offered as a prayer. Even the act of attending church or a wedding or funeral was an act of prayer. She said mealtime grace, morning prayers, and bedtime prayers. Her prayers were simple and sincere. And people knew that Mom prayed. They would seek her out with their requests, knowing that she would offer real support, and not just good intentions.

But what my Mom was most known for was sending greeting cards. And each one was a small prayer– a voluntary act of asking God to bless the person who would be receiving the card. She wanted God to pour out blessing, strength, encouragement, and healing to as many people as possible. Every card was saturated in prayer and appreciation– appreciation for the person, and appreciation for what God could and would do in relation to that person’s life. She sent out around 100,000 cards in her lifetime! Each one was a small act of faith, blessing, encouragement, and love.

Mom wasn’t a “super” Christian. She was an ordinary sinner saved by Grace. She wasn’t particularly gifted with money, time, writing ability or creativity– though she had some resources in each area. But she used them well. She invested in the lives of hundreds of people– time and energy and emotion–through her prayers and actions. Not because she had something to prove or because she wanted to “earn her wings” or she just felt like sending cards. She spent countless hours organizing, gathering information and addresses, and writing out the cards and envelopes each day. But it was a labor of love because she believed that God SO LOVED the world, that He gave His only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting Life (John 3:16). Her love for God was a response to His love for her, and His grace toward her…and her love for others was the overflow of the love she had received.

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Mom’s passing leaves a great hole. But it also leaves an incredible opportunity. Her legacy is one of simple actions, persistent faith, and willingness to serve. God gave Mom an incredible life– nearly 90 years, and most of them full with abundant opportunities to make new friends, share God’s love, and serve her Savior.

No matter what time we have, may we have a heart to pray for others, and to grasp each opportunity to share God’s abundant and eternal love with those around us. My Mom has finished her race on Earth. It’s time for us to run the next leg!

March 1, 2023 0

Leaning…

“What a fellowship; what a joy divine,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms…”

Years ago, growing up in a small community, and attending a tiny rural church in southwestern Michigan, we sang this song often at church. As a child, I liked the tune, but had little idea what the song meant. I knew the word fellowship– that was what we called the pot-luck meals and social times we had in the church basement. I knew that Joy was like happiness, only better. I knew that “divine” referred to God and Heaven, and Holy things. But I also knew that leaning was frowned upon– I was told to stand up straight, sit up straight, and never lean back on the two hind legs of the chair in class. How could there by fellowship, and divine joy in leaning? And what were the Everlasting Arms?

As I have lived, I have grown to understand and cherish these words. There IS a fellowship and a joy divine in learning to lean on the Everlasting Arms of Jesus; to experience the strength and peace that passes my own understanding when I trust fully in Him, instead of in my own plans, whims, dreams, or wishes. There is no shame in leaning on God– in fact, if we don’t learn to lean on the solid wisdom and faithfulness of God, we will slouch into bad habits, “fall” into false teaching, or simply collapse in our own limitations and weaknesses, much like a chair leaning on just two legs! And this fellowship is not only with my Creator, Sustainer, and Savior; it is with all the brothers and sisters around the world who have learned to trust Him, too. I can travel to foreign countries, with different languages and customs, and still feel the kinship and “belonging” with other Christians. It is deeper and more mysterious than just the recognition that we are fellow human beings. It goes even deeper than the love for others who are loved by God. It is the recognition that God’s Holy Spirit surrounds us, flows in and through us, strengthens us, and unites us IN HIM. We are fellow travelers; fellow workers; fellow members of a universal family– one that is more inclusive than nationality, race, ethnicity, language, ideology, or denomination. We can (and do) lean on the ONE who is eternally trustworthy, eternally faithful to walk beside us, empower us, comfort and heal us, and lead us home. And we can lean on each other, knowing that our mutual strength comes from Him.

I love worship services, and I’m thankful that we have an active church where people worship; where the Bible is taught and revered; where families and individuals are welcomed and loved. But I sometimes miss the old “prayer meetings” in the church where I grew up. Every Wednesday night, while the children were (supposedly quietly) playing games, singing songs, and listening to the great stories of the Bible, a faithful (and sometimes rag-tag) group of adults were upstairs in a huddle. Some pulled up chairs and sat in a circle; others knelt the whole time. They prayed for nearly an hour–prayers of thanksgiving and prayers of urgent needs; prayers expressing worship, and prayers expressing inadequacies and failures; prayers for the children downstairs, for other members of the church family; prayers for the community, the country, and the world. As I became a teenager and a young adult, I was privileged to join in. I watched wise, older men and women express their confidence in God’s provision, and pour out their hearts for their children and grandchildren. I listened to young adults asking for wisdom and guidance as they raised families and witnessed to co-workers. I felt the joy and grief and true “fellowship” that came when several hearts turned as one to God.

I have since attended many “prayer meetings”– some planned, some spur-of-the-moment; some held in churches; others held in homes or dorm rooms, even on street corners or grocery stores; some lasting only a few minutes; others lasting hours. I was thrilled to be able to attend a “prayer meeting” again this past week. There is something mystical about communal prayer– listening and sharing in prayer with others. The prayers of God’s people are compared to incense– and communal prayer is like a delicately-balanced blend of fragrances, infusing very the room with blessing, and even a touch of Glory. (For more about how prayer is likened to incense, see https://the-end-time.org/2017/06/13/how-is-incense-like-prayer/) It is yet another miracle of the power of prayer, that we can combine hearts and voices to honor God; to lift up very human concerns to the One powerful enough to hold each one in the palm of His hand. It should not replace personal prayer and Bible Study, or communal worship services, but it is a wonderful practice for any Christian to “come alongside” in prayer with fellow believers. It is also humbling to think about how such a seemingly small act can have far-reaching consequences.

God “inhabits” the praises of His people (Psalm 22:3). When we show up and participate in communal worship and prayer, we get a greater sense of God’s presence, His power, His Glory, His Love, and His eternal purpose. What a Fellowship! What a Joy, Divine!

October 7, 2022 0

The Blessings of a Faithful Grandmother

Yesterday, my wonderful maternal grandmother would have celebrated her 110th earthly birthday. I have so many happy memories of times spent with her– of shared laughter and tears, walking barefoot through many yards and gardens, “overnights,” looking through her button tin, or her old jewelry box, helping her make homemade egg noodles, or cherry pie… But more than all these, I remember the feelings of peace, joy, and unconditional love whenever she was near.

Gram was one of the wisest persons I ever knew. She was patient and kind with everyone. I cannot remember ever hearing her say a spiteful or sarcastic word. She had a quiet sense of humor, and made everyone feel welcome and valuable. She was generous– not just with gifts, but with time and attention, especially for children. She was a hard worker, but she never seemed to look frenzied or “overworked.”

She and my grandfather were married for almost 63 years. She lived with him through many difficult times– during the Great Depression, there were many times when they could not be sure where they would live or what they would eat. Many nights were spent sleeping in spare rooms with family members. Grandad went to war in 1942, and Gram “held down the home front”– taking care of two little girls, and working the night shift as a riveter, while living with her parents. Things were better financially after the war, but Gram kept working– this time as a secretary. She and Grandad still moved around a lot–rented homes, apartments, mobile homes–each time making it look and feel better than it had ever been, or ever would be again. Gram planted flowers everywhere; Grandad collected animals. At the time of her death, Gram and Grandad were living in a rented house– the very house where Gram had been born 82 years earlier!

Gram’s given name was Beulah, named for her paternal grandmother. Her name means “married.” And Gram lived up to her name, and all it suggests. She was faithful, fruitful, and a wonderful companion and champion in her marriage. When she died, my grandfather was lost without her. We nearly lost him that very day. He only lived another four months after she passed.

If I had to choose a word to describe Gram, above all others, it would be faithful. She was faithful in everything she did– faithful to her marriage, faithful to her children and extended family, faithful at work, and faithful to God. Gram’s Bible was worn, and old, but she lived out its pages every day. Her trust in God was absolute– and it had been tested through all the hard times she had experienced. She KNEW she could trust in God’s provision and timing, because she had experienced it first hand. She did not make a fuss about her deep faith, nor did she ever deny the source of her peace and strength. Her life was not easy, but it was bountiful!

Today, as I reflect on her legacy, I am so grateful for her quiet example in my own life, and in the lives of others. I pray that I may leave such an impression before I pass on– that someone will be inspired to a lasting faith and find joy in their life’s journey because I have been faithful. Below is one of her favorite hymns: (I especially enjoy the piano in this clip, because it is close to how my Gram would have played it!)

June 27, 2022 0

How Will You Be Remembered?

Today would have been my paternal grandmother’s 118th birthday. I have many memories of my grandmother, and I wish more of them were pleasant.

I remember dreading time spent at Grandma’s house. She wasn’t a horrible woman, but she was not peaceful or kind or warm. Her house was small and dark, with cobwebs and dust bunnies in the corners and under furniture. There were very few toys, and most of them broken. Grandma always wanted my sister and I to be still and silent, and I always had the feeling that she dreaded our visits as much as we did. I had a cousin who loved it when we came over, because she was just a bit older and an only child. If the weather was nice, Grandma would send us all outside, and my cousin would dare us to climb trees, or jump over a pit or some other physical (usually dirty and dangerous, too) activity. When we came in, Grandma would frown and comment on how dirty and sweaty and noisy and un-ladylike we all were.

Growing up, I didn’t think of Grandma as someone who had ever been young, and noisy, or happy and excitable, or awkward and easily hurt. She seemed to have been perpetually old and cranky and bitter. In hindsight, I can see how circumstances– being the middle child of seven living on a farm; starting her married life living in with a bossy sister-in-law and verbally abusive father-in-law; losing her husband when he was only 50–had been allowed to shape her character in negative ways.

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There are some pleasant memories, and I cherish them. Grandma was a good cook. She made wonderful chicken dinners, and a strange candy out of mashed potatoes and peanut butter. She always had cold tea on a hot day. I knew that she loved my dad, and that she could be proud of us, in her own way. I was sorry when she died. Sorry that I hadn’t made more of an effort to know her better. Sorry that she had chosen bitterness, and that I had chosen to stay distant from her.

I write all this, difficult as it is, to say that Grandma–both her good and bad qualities–lives on in my memory as someone I would not choose to be. I don’t want to grow old like her. I don’t want my family members to dread spending time with me while I live, and dig deep to remember something good about me when I’m gone, or justify my bitterness and negativity.

My grandmother claimed to be a woman of faith. And it is not my place to be her judge. But I saw very little evidence of faith in her daily life. I cannot remember ever hearing her pray. She did not attend church. She had a Bible, but I never saw her reading it. Her better qualities, and her walk with Christ were overshadowed by rancor, bitterness, anger, hurt, and pettiness. I do not want that to be my legacy. I want people to know, not just from my words, but in my actions and choices, that God’s love lives in me, brighter and stronger than memories of Grandma.

Shortly before her death, I ended up spending an afternoon with Grandma– just the two of us. She had moved into a small apartment in town, and somehow, it transpired that I had to be in town on Saturday morning for a school event, and no one could pick me up until that evening. We were forced to keep company. It began awkwardly, but as we talked, Grandma opened up about her childhood, her love of music, and more; she asked about my time at school and my love of history. It is the single most pleasant memory I have of her, and I wish there had been more afternoons like it; more afternoons to bond; more afternoons to cherish, rather than dread.

After her death, I learned a couple of things about my grandmother– things I wish I had known earlier. I found an old copy of her high school yearbook, which contained a story she had written. Grandma’s story was full of wonderful details and imaginative characters. She was a writer– and I never knew! I also found out that Grandma not only loved music, she was a singer– an alto, just like me. At some point in her life, she stopped writing, and she stopped singing. I hope that, even if I never saw it or heard it, that she never stopped praying. And I hope that when I’m gone, those who remember me will never have to wonder if I sang, or wrote, or prayed.

September 8, 2021 0

When We All Get To Heaven…

Last week, I attended the funeral of my mom’s cousin. It was a joyful funeral–not only was it a celebration of a life well-lived, and an acknowledgement of God’s grace, but it was a reunion of sorts. Not only were there cousins I hadn’t seen in awhile, but I met people I hadn’t known before, but we were connected through my cousin and through the legacy of a tiny country church and the faithful witness of those who have been blessed there.

Friends and family spoke of my cousin’s generosity, his quiet and steadfast character, his diligence, and his love for Jesus Christ. We sang together, prayed together, and remembered. And some of the stories shared involved a small country church, once pastored by my cousin’s in-laws, and the site of many confessions of faith, prayer meetings, weddings, funerals, evangelistic services, pot-luck fellowships, Bible Schools, Easter services, Christmas programs, and weekly worship services. It was the church where I was introduced to the gospel. It was the church where I met my husband. It still stands, attended by faithful friends. It has, over the years, sent missionaries to Zambia, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Mexico, and the Philippines. It has supported local rescue missions, and local families in need. It is a tiny country church; I can remember when it had hard wooden pews, no fans or air conditioning in the summer, a damp and leaky basement with the occasional toad or salamander on the stairs, and no indoor bathroom.

After the funeral, Mom and I went to the fellowship meal at another local church. It was beautiful, with a small cafe, a large sanctuary, two sets of bathrooms, a fellowship hall, and all the modern conveniences– located in an old strip mall. A far cry from the church of my youth, but filled with caring and gracious people who were there to provide food and comfort for the family. I don’t know how many local or foreign missions are served by the congregation there, but I suspect it would look similar to the list above.

As we found a seat for the meal, we were joined by a woman I had never met. As we made introductions, we realized two things– we were distantly related, and we had both attended Bethel Church as young children (though separated by a couple of decades). We both had fond memories of that small country church, and the wonderful people there.

Photo by SHVETS production on Pexels.com

Over the next few days, I thought about all the amazing people I have known–family members like my cousin, and this distant cousin I was able to meet; the various families who came and went over the years at Bethel Church and other churches I have attended; missionaries and evangelists, pastors, teachers, and their families; the people I have met through mission trips and conferences–and how many more amazing people I have NEVER met, but whose lives are intertwined because we belong to God’s family.

Someday, we will all be in the same place at the same time–HOME– with our Loving Father! When we all get to Heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be! Until then, we are scattered by distance and circumstance. We worship in different ways, different languages, in different types of buildings, in small house churches, cathedrals, arenas, and strip malls. We have different outreach opportunities, different social challenges, different budgets, and different worship styles. But we are connected:

⁴There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— ⁵one Lord, one faith, one baptism, ⁶one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.
Ephesians 4:4-6 ESV

Heaven will be incredibly diverse; and uniquely cohesive– brought together by a Love that transcends differences, disparity, and even death. And we will meet those whose lives paralleled ours, even if we never met on earth. We will meet those whose faithfulness brought about the little country church where I grew up, and those who planted churches in malls, and jungles, caves, hills, forests, and “underground.” All our amazingly diverse stories will be woven into one eternal “Hallelujah” as we praise the author of them all.

Funerals can be anguished events. But I was blessed last week to remember God’s incredible faithfulness. One of the verses quoted during the service was Psalm 116:15–“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.” Earlier in the same Psalm, the writer has this to say, “I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He has inclined His ear to me, therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live.” I have seen and experienced God’s faithfulness– through the lives of other saints, through the work of His church, and as He has personally “inclined His ear to me.” May I be faithful to all upon Him for as long as I live. As my cousin was blessed and blessed others, may we hold true to our “One faith” as we await that day when we all get to Heaven!

August 18, 2021 0

Our Father

Yesterday was Father’s Day. It can be a very difficult day for many people– a day of loss, of regret, of anger, and bitterness. There is an epidemic of people growing up with no fathers, absentee fathers, temporary fathers, or abusive fathers. And it can give us a very distorted view of Our Heavenly Father.

They say that our earthly fathers often become the model of how we see God. If my father was passive, I may see God as apathetic or distant. If my father was demanding, I may see God as just, but not merciful. If my father was moody and unpredictable, I may see God as capricious and unfair. I grew up with a loving, gentle, and wise earthly father. But that doesn’t make me immune to distorted views of God. Dad was honest, a steady worker, a faithful husband, and a humble man of faith. But Dad wasn’t perfect– no father is.

My husband’s father was another terrific Dad. He was a great storyteller, a diligent worker, a man of great faith, wisdom, and gentle humor. And, although he was a great Dad and worthy of respect, he wasn’t perfect, either. Both fathers reflected aspects of God’s love to our families, and I’m so grateful for their legacies.

Our tendency to view God through the lens of our earthly experiences can distort our view of who God is, but it can also distort our view of who WE are to God. David and I each grew up confident of our earthly fathers’ love and care, but that doesn’t mean that God somehow loved us more than my neighbor whose father died when he was just a child, or more that his friend whose father was cold and distant, or our friend whose father was a respected minister. God’s love doesn’t depend on how we view Him, or how we view our family circumstances. God’s love comes from who He is. And He desires a close, eternally loving relationship with each of us– one that transcends human shortcomings and limitations.

My mom was once asked if she had a “favorite” child. And her answer was, “I love them all the same, and I love them all differently.” God’s love for us as a father is the same. His love for each of us is eternal, incomprehensible, and constant. But it is also uniquely demonstrated in the way He guides us, disciplines us, and shows His compassion for us. We may never know the love of our earthly fathers; we may only know their failures, or their memory, or the emptiness where they should have been. But God is the ultimate Good, Good Father– the one we can always look up to; the one who always has our back.

As much as I loved my Dads, and miss their advice and laughter, steady guidance, and examples, they cannot compare to the incredible love and wisdom of Our Father. No matter what legacy our earthly fathers have left us, God’s love is better, wider, deeper, and more powerful.

June 21, 2021 0

Celebrate Life

My husband has celebrated his birthday this week, and it reminded me of some of the many ways we celebrate life. Before a baby is even born, we share special moments of excitement–sonograms, gender reveal parties, baby showers, picking out names, feeling little “kicks” and movements in the womb. We give gifts and blessings when the baby arrives. We take baby photos and commemorate all the “firsts”– first tooth, first steps, first words, etc. And each year, we remember. We send cards and other birthday greetings; we give gifts and have parties with special cakes and songs and party hats. We invite others to celebrate, as well.

Not everyone celebrates birthdays, and some people make a mockery of their advancing age, but most of us think birthdays are a big deal, and worth celebrating. LIFE is a big deal. Life is a sacred gift, and we should cherish every moment of it. We celebrate the events of life– achievements, milestones, graduations, new jobs, promotions, relocations, marriages, anniversaries, retirements, and much more. Celebrating life is an industry– cards, balloons, T-shirts, reception halls, catering, special clothing (wedding dresses, tuxes, caps and gowns, etc.), special foods, party favors, confetti, gift items– we spend a lot of time, energy, money, and even “life” celebrating our lives.

And we also celebrate life at its end. Even as we grieve the loss of loved ones, we seek to memorialize their lives. We hold funerals, publish obituaries and memorials, erect tombstones, build monuments, and write tributes and biographies. We celebrate the achievements, memories, and legacies of those who pass on. Their lives mattered. They don’t cease to matter when death comes. For the Christian, there is a special reason to celebrate the end of life– because it is NOT the end! Imagine the celebration of Life that will never end–the celebration of eternity with the Author, Giver, Redeemer, and Sustainer of Life!

Many people have wished my husband an happy birthday this week, and they’ve offered prayers and good wishes. Today, I will be praying for many people who are celebrating a birthday. I will offer up a thanksgiving for their life, and celebrate the One who created each unique person on today’s list.

We’re going through a journey that has focused on worldwide death– fear of death and disease, despair, anger, desperation, and hopelessness. We shouldn’t ignore the reality of death around us, but we mustn’t let it overwhelm the life that is within us. Life is worth celebrating–ALWAYS!

February 5, 2021 0

A Legacy of Faith

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+112&version=ESV

Psalm 112 English Standard Version (ESV)

The Righteous Will Never Be Moved

112 Praise the Lord!
Blessed is the man who fears the Lord,
    who greatly delights in his commandments!
²His offspring will be mighty in the land;
    the generation of the upright will be blessed.
³Wealth and riches are in his house,
    and his righteousness endures forever.
⁴Light dawns in the darkness for the upright;
    he is gracious, merciful, and righteous.
⁵It is well with the man who deals generously and lends;
    who conducts his affairs with justice.
⁶For the righteous will never be moved;
    he will be remembered forever.
⁷He is not afraid of bad news;
    his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.
⁸His heart is steady; he will not be afraid,
    until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.
⁹He has distributed freely; he has given to the poor;
    his righteousness endures forever;
    his horn is exalted in honor.
¹⁰The wicked man sees it and is angry;
    he gnashes his teeth and melts away;
    the desire of the wicked will perish!

My grandmother would have celebrated her 108th birthday today. I’m confident that she IS celebrating today– but she no longer has to count birthdays, or worry that this one might be her “last.” She passed into eternity more than 25 years ago. But she and my grandfather left a legacy of faith, hope, integrity, and prayer that lives on. It is a quiet legacy– my grandparents were not “important” people–they worked hard, lived a simple lifestyle, and never made a showy practice of their faith. But they lived it in such a way as to leave others with a glimpse of what steadfast faith looks like.

Grandma was born just a few short weeks after the sinking of the Titanic. She lived through two World Wars (one of which kept her separated from her husband, working in a factory, and raising two young girls). She lived through times of war, times of riots and uncertainty, and times of disease and pain. She knew what it was to struggle and lose. She was born before women could vote. She and my grandfather lived through the “Great Depression,” picking up whatever odd jobs they could, and sometimes not having enough for rent or food. But she also knew incredible joy and satisfaction. She knew what it was to be loved and to give love. She knew the joy of seeing a job to completion, and of using her talents and skills to help others. Most of all, she and grandad shared an incredible faith– one that had been tested many times– in God’s goodness, His provision, and His faithful protection. They lived in circumstances that would cause many to fear. But I never remember Gram being frightened–she wasn’t oblivious to bad news and difficult circumstances–but she faced them with confidence and resolve, the kind that gave hope and courage to everyone around.

My grandparents moved a lot. I mean, A LOT! They probably moved 50 times (at least) during their 62 years of marriage. Sometimes, they moved because Grandad had “itchy feet.” He liked change; he liked to have new projects to tackle; he liked to feel “free.” He loved moving into a “fixer-upper,” or renting a place with a run-down yard. But sometimes, they moved because they had to. They moved a lot– but they were never “moved” from each other, from their family, or their faith. They didn’t lose hope; they didn’t shift opinions based on their circumstances; they didn’t break promises or end friendships.

Psalm 112 gives a wonderful description of a “righteous” person. Not a self-righteous person, and not a perfect person (as none of us are perfect). But it is a great picture of the kind of legacy my grandparents left behind. They were generous– not just with money, but with gifts, work, time, hospitality, and words of encouragement and hope. They were rock-solid in their integrity– they went above and beyond not to cheat or lie or complain or shirk duties. In all their struggles (and in their good times) they never lost sight of God’s Goodness and Sovereignty.

My prayer today is that I would pass along such a legacy; such a witness. God is faithful, He is good, loving, and kind. He is never far from those who call on His Name, and He is able to deliver us from all our struggles. I am so grateful that, in addition to all the other blessings I take for granted, God gave me amazing grandparents. I hope He brings such people into your life today, and equips you to be such a legacy-builder, as well!

June 26, 2020 1

Every Day Counts

Tomorrow, my mother will celebrate her 87th birthday. Her life spans an incredible period of history. She can remember times of poverty and hardship during the Great Depression. She remembers hearing about the attack on Pearl Harbor on the radio, and worrying about her father in the Navy, and her mother working long hours in the factory. As a young wife, she sent a husband to fight in Korea, while she awaited the birth of their son. In her day, she cooked on a coal-fired stove, attended a one-room schoolhouse, wore poodle skirts and saddle shoes, and used outhouses. She has lived through the age of television and the internet– she watched a man walk on the moon (in black and white) and watched the World Trade Center towers burn and collapse (in color) on TV screens in real time. She learned to take shorthand in pencil, to type on a manual typewriter, and has done data-entry on a desktop computer.

Mom has seen a lot of changes in her life. But years ago, she developed habits that have not changed. Every day, she reads a passage of scripture, and every day, she spends time in prayer and meditation. That doesn’t mean she is perfect–some days she misses, due to illness or unexpected interruptions–and this practice, in itself, doesn’t make her a “better” person than anyone else. But daily habits do matter. When Mom lost her parents and her only sister in a matter of nine months, and then lost my Dad just three years later, her faith was tested. But it never wavered. When she had to undergo heart surgery a few years ago, her faithful habits made an impression on the hospital staff, as well as her friends and family. Throughout the recent COVID-19 lockdown, when Mom has lived alone and had to deal with cancelled doctor’s appointments, limited access to medicines, changing her routines, not being able to socialize, not being able to attend worship services, losing a close friend, etc., she has shown resilience, patience, and faith that set a marvelous example to anyone who knows her. Whether her day turns out to be momentous, boring, disastrous, or just ordinary, Mom determines to spend part of it connecting to, and worshiping, her Savior.

This seems like simple advice, but it takes practice and determination, and help from the Holy Spirit. It is tempting to look at our lives in hourly increments, trying to fill each moment and each day with meaningful activity. It is tempting to make prayer and Bible study “part of the plan,” two of the many activities in our busy schedule. And when things don’t go according to our plan, we wring our hands and lament the “waste.” Even when things go “as planned” we still consider worship and meditation one of many routine practices, like exercise, or dusting, or taking a shower. But each day is a gift– each moment is more than an opportunity to be busy “doing” and “making plans.” Each day– even the ones we think of as failures and wasted time–matters. Every day is a new opportunity to see God or to hear His voice–whether in the beauty of a sunrise, or the tears of our children; in the aftermath of a disaster, or an unexpected promotion at work; in stillness, or the noisy commute; in success and in setbacks.

Daily habits like prayer and Bible study won’t change the circumstances that come our way; they won’t necessarily help us make plans that make life easier or less frustrating. But they will teach us to place our focus where it truly belongs–on the One who is with us every day and every moment, through good times and bad–on the One who holds today (and tomorrow) in His hand. It doesn’t matter that we fill out a chart, or make a certain goal of pages read or half-hours spent on our knees– it DOES matter that we make it the cry of our heart to seek God every day that we can. Seek His wisdom, seek His mercy, seek His glory. Today.

May 18, 2020 1

Tag: legacy