But Even If He Does Not…

¹⁶Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego replied to him, “King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. ¹⁷If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us^[c] from Your Majesty’s hand. ¹⁸But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.”
Daniel 3:16-18 (NIV)

I hear a lot of American Christians complaining about the “dark days” in which we live. And indeed, they are dark. There is great evil in the world– wars, famines, injustices, hatred, division, greed, and immorality. But, along with complaints, I hear a note of whining. Isn’t God supposed to deliver us from just such evil? Isn’t He supposed to clear the way for us to love one another in peace and harmony? Surely, it can’t be His will for us to be laughed at, spit upon, misunderstood, and treated with contempt?!

The ancient nation of Israel was conquered and sent into exile. Israelites who had abandoned their faith, as well as those who had steadfastly served the Lord, were ripped from their homeland and marched to Babylon. Worship in the Temple of Jerusalem ceased. The Temple itself had been destroyed. There were no tabernacles, no festivals– none of the systems and structures of worship left available to God’s people. Yet some still worshipped– in homes, isolated from their fellow Jews, or in secret groups. They were not surrounded by reminders of when “their” religious beliefs were considered the cultural norm. Nor did they live in a culture that practiced religious “toleration” as we understand it today.

In the book of Daniel, the commitment of s handful of exiles is detailed as it comes in conflict with the oppressive control of the Babylonian (and later the Persian) Empire. Daniel and his three friends are challenged by the pressure to compromise and adapt to their surroundings. They are tempted and bribed by the promise of power in the court– if they can compete with other Babylonians. But they secretly hold fast to their “old” diet, and religious practices. They refuse to eat the rich food of Babylon– or bow to its gods.

In Chapter 3 of Daniel, the three friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, refuse to bow to a golden statue of Nebudchadnezzar, the megalomaniac for whom they worked. Even though he had appointed them to high offices, he refused to “coddle” them in their worship of a foreign god. He demanded that they bow to his statue– something God had commanded them NOT to do.

It might have been easy enough to secretly meet in homes and celebrate Passover without alerting those around them. It would have been possible for them to hide scrolls containing the ancient words of their historians and prophets, to be read or studied. But they were being asked to publicly bow to a statue of their King– to acknowledge him as a “god.” And they refused. As court officials, their refusal was not just a minor snub, but a scandalous insult. Yet they stood firm.

Shocked and angered, Nebuchadnezzar, a notoriously cruel and impulsive king, gave them a generous “second chance” to save their careers and lives by obeying his orders. Amazingly, the three did not even spend a moment considering their options. They answered, boldly, courageously, and graciously, that they would not bow down to the statue. And God rescued them from the fiery furnace, so that not even their hair was singed by the flames– even though their captors were killed in the very act of pushing them into the furnace! God not only rescued them– He appeared WITH them in the midst of the flames. This so astonished Nebuchadnezzar, that he ordered them released and proclaimed that no one should say anything against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego–an incredible act of religious toleration for that culture and time.

The story of The Fiery Furnace is well-known. I’ve used it before in my posts. But today, I’d like to focus on just one little phrase that stood out to me this week. When brought before Nebuchadnezzar the first time, the three men said, “we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter…” (v. 16).

How tempting it might have been to have defended their refusal– to give Nebuchadnezzar a lecture on God’s Law and His past miracles. But they refused to explain or defend their actions. They merely gave testimony of their faith that God COULD save them, and that, “even if He does not..” they were willing to die rather than dishonor Him. And Nebuchadnezzar SAW the proof of their faith in a way that their words and arguments could not have accomplished!

Most of the time, when I hear Christians talking about this story, they focus on the miraculous deliverance of the three men from the flames. The lesson is that God will be with us, no matter what. He can deliver us FROM the flames, but often, He chooses to deliver us THROUGH the flames. And that is a wonderful lesson and a true promise.

But that deliverance should not overshadow the quiet dedication of the three men. Before God joined them in the fire, they were already committed to dying in silence to obey God rather than their earthly king. They stood to lose everything– their lives, their legacy of faith, their service, their families (who might have been left destitute or even subject to punishment)– all of it was riding on their willingness to suffer injustice and torture. We know that God “showed up”– literally– in their defense. And they certainly knew that God COULD save them. But they also acknowledged that “if He does not..” they were still willing to die. And they were willing to do so, not acknowledged as martyred heroes, but as convicted criminals.

Centuries later, Jesus Christ would appear before Pontius Pilate, who asked Him to give a defense. Astonished at Jesus’ refusal to argue and plead for His life, Pilate came to the conclusion that “I find no fault in Him.” (John 19:4) Jesus willingly accepted an unjust sentence of Death, offering no argument or defense, except the Truth. No one came to His rescue. And God did NOT spare His life! The Son of God died as a criminal on a Roman cross, betrayed by Jewish leaders. Yet, Jesus’ obedience; His willingness to die brought US life, and forgiveness and peace!

There are millions of believers in Christ today who must be prepared to face a “fiery furnace” moment–maybe it involves death or torture. Perhaps it only involves being teased or despised by a neighbor or a classmate at school. And we may pray for deliverance–that is natural. But how often do we give up the chance to argue, and justify our diligence, our “right” to worship “our” way? How ready are we to be seen as foolish, or even rebellious to the culture of the day? We long for God to come to our physical rescue– to join us IN the fire– but are we willing to let Him be our defense? Are we willing to be humble in the face of obvious injustice, and let God speak up on our behalf? And what if He does not?

The Apostle Paul also faced this dilemma. Not only were there Greek and Roman officials who thought him a fool, there were Jews– his own people– who were going around defaming him, denouncing him, and spreading lies and rumors. Paul (never one to let a good argument go unargued!) spent much of his time in letters writing out his defense of the Gospel. But, in his own defense, he downplayed his position and his great knowledge of the scripture. He was not defending himself “in these matters”– he was defending the Truth of the Gospel! He also acknowledged that God could use even detractors and tormentors to spread the Gospel. And he often urged fellow believers to live in peace with their unbelieving neighbors, even those who taunted them!

It is tempting in Western Culture, where Christianity has been normalized, to think that when we defend ourselves, we are defending Christianity. But what if, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we let God be our defense– in the flames, in the courtroom of public opinion, in our own families? What if we followed Jesus’ example and remained calm and confident, even under duress? What if we lived humble and quiet lives of integrity, ready to submit even to the flames or the cross, serving even those who would stoke the fires or pound the nails? God might just “show up” in ways we never could have imagined! Courage is often seen as boldness and speaking up in our own defense. But, sometimes, it takes greater courage to stand silent and let our actions– even when they are disparaged and misinterpreted– speak as a testimony of God’s power.

March 15, 2024 0

We Are Family…

The Bible is filled with images of family–long lists of “begats” and genealogies, parables about sons and fathers, brothers, weddings, brides and grooms…God is even described as our Father, with Christ as “the son.”

One of my hobbies is genealogy– tracing my family’s roots back through several generations and several different places. While the Bible warns that we should not get caught up in “endless” and vain genealogies that lead to false pride and foolish divisions (1 Tim. 1:4/Titus 3:9), there are many good reasons to pay attention to families, family histories, and family dynamics.

First, the family is God’s design– God instituted marriage, parenthood, and family units. It is God’s will and purpose that we should not live in isolation and self-absorption, but learn to depend on and be responsible to others. Families honor, protect, love, provide, comfort, teach, encourage, build and work together. Even in a broken world, filled with dysfunctional and chaotic family relationships, the purpose and design of “family” is still part of God’s good and perfect plan for living. Broken families and toxic relationships are not a failure of God’s plan– they are the result of Sin’s power to distort and corrupt the Good that only God can create. The great news is that God also has the power to restore and redeem individuals and families; offering “rebirth”, adoption, and an eternal “inheritance” within His family!

Second, families can teach us about the astounding and limitless love of God. There is something about the bonds of familial love that stretch us beyond our regular capacity to hope, to sacrifice, to share, to grieve, to endure, and to forgive. Who has seen a mother or father go hungry so their child can eat; or a sister or daughter donate her kidney or bone marrow to help heal a family member? Or a father carry his son who could not walk, or a wife who visits her aging husband when he no longer knows her face? How can we see such devotion and not be struck by how much greater, wider, deeper, and more eternal the Father’s love is for each of us?

Third, family (particularly the idea of genealogies and long family histories) teaches us the eternal nature of God. We live our lives as part of three or four generations– a span of 70 or 80 years for many of us–and we concentrate our efforts on “making our mark” for less than that entire span. But even the longest of our lives are so short in the span of God’s plan for His people. We have one lifespan to play an important role in the story of centuries. When we fail to understand that role, we can miss our sense of purpose in life. Sometimes, we overestimate our own importance or miss the significance of our own legacy. Even “important” people are forgotten, or have their legacies tarnished or rewritten in the pages of history. And those people who never made the history books are often the inspiration for actions and movements that span generations and change nations. When I study the history of my own family, I find lives that were cut short by war or disease– yet these lives shaped the lives (or were the lives) of my ancestors, and without them, I would not be who or how or where I am today. Maiden aunt, baby brother, empty seat at the table– every life touches others in ways that God alone truly comprehends. “Coincidental” meetings, “unplanned” children, migration patterns, epidemics– all loom large in a single generation, but they all become part of the fabric of each person’s “history.”

Lastly, genealogy reminds us that we are all one enormous family! There is so much talk on the news and online about all our differences– language, culture, skin tone, beliefs, skills, abilities, interests, even diets!– and it is important to note that God loves variety and created us each with unique and precious differences to reflect His infinite character. But sin twists our differences into conflicts; sin spreads lies about God’s character, and thus, about how we (or others) reflect, honor, understand, acknowledge, or obey our amazing creator. Differences may cause division in our broken world, but they do not cancel God’s mercy or limit the reach of His love for us all.

This lesson is being brought home to me in a secondary way as I see the time approaching for my 40th high school class reunion. Of course, we are not all directly related. And we are all the same general age, rather than being multi-generational. But it struck me that our class has been very much like a family– we grew up together; we learned to get along (most of the time), to share, to work together, to understand and appreciate our differences and our unique gifts–we send birthday greetings and share pictures, we laugh together, grieve together, share fond memories and special connections with one another. We pray for one another, argue with one another, encourage one another, and challenge one another. There are some who have distanced themselves–whether through physical distance or emotionally– from the rest of us. Some have even ended their earthly journeys. But that doesn’t make them any less a part of our class/our family. We are short and tall, thin and stout, hairy and bald, dark and light complected; we are single, married, divorced, and widowed– some with children still at home; some with no children at all. We are rich and poor, healthy and ill, walking around with scars and wounds and unresolved questions, arrogant assumptions, or chips on our shoulders. And we are optimists and mentors, healers and teachers, helpers and protectors. We are loud and quiet, social and task-oriented, driven and laid-back, dreamers and doers. And in my genealogy research, I have made genetic and marriage connections to about 1/3 of them! We really ARE family, and I can show how we are related! How small would this world seem if we looked at our brothers and sisters across the world, and realize that those connections are so much greater than the differences that divide us?

I’m also in the process of writing a book about my family. I estimate that there are nearly 500 people who can claim the same ancestral “roots” from the same two people, who lived through some of the most amazing events of the twentieth century! Once again, we don’t all look , or act, or think alike– some are tall, some are tattooed, some are old, some are newborns, some argue about college football teams, or politics. Some of us speak other native languages or live very different lifestyles. But we love each other, encourage each other, and many of us share our prayers and concerns and joys and pains. My great-grandparents (and all their children) left a legacy of love and faith that continues to influence and inspire the fourth, fifth and sixth generation to follow!

When we pray for others, we are always praying for our family! Praying for our neighbors and classmates and co-workers– we are praying for family! Praying for our enemies, for strangers, for those who look and speak differently than us–We are praying for family! May God give us eyes to see and hearts to love our brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, cousins and even the “long lost family members” and lift them up in prayer to the One who loves us and wants to bring us all into His family!

February 21, 2024 0

The Power of Pictures

When my Mom died back in February, she left a house full of memories, and also a house full of papers and empty containers, old clothes and books, and worn furniture and broken appliances. Mom was a hoarder, and it has taken months to begin sorting through all that Mom treasured. Yesterday, I was sorting through a tub of old photos. Mom took thousands of photos over the years, and we gathered up over 25 tubs of them. They are in random order, so one group of photos may be from the late sixties, while the next might have been taken just a few years ago.

It’s been both frustrating and entertaining to go through batches of photos. Seeing my face at age 6 with missing front teeth; seeing my nephew holding his newborn daughter; seeing my Dad in his work uniform; seeing long-lost relatives when they were both alive and younger than I am now! It can be jarring. I found a photo of my favorite pair of sneakers from childhood– they were bright yellow with black stripes and white treads. I loved those sneakers and I finally wore them out. But there they were, staring up at me from an old photo– brand new– and I felt the same sense of excitement I had when I was 10 years old. I also found an old photo of a cousin who recently passed away. There she was, fifty years younger at a family reunion, a young mother with two sons (another son and daughter were yet to be born!) It was a sharp stab to know how much her family is grieving right now. And yet, it was a beautiful reminder that she is NOT gone; she is raised to life, and grief will be turned to joy as we have an eternal “Family Reunion” in heaven!

Mom took a lot of wonderful pictures that mean so much to us now. But Mom also took a lot of “dud” pictures– pictures that were out of focus; pictures of old clothes, or faded flowers. Several pictures of the same thing from different angles. Pictures of people eating–their mouths wide open and gaping angrily. There are no labels telling why such pictures were taken, or what they might mean. Years later, they leave us confused and frustrated– and ready to throw them out!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. And I have been living that lately, as I sort through old memories. But the pictures are reminding me of other memories– other “pictures” that are even more powerful.

God reveals Himself to us in so many ways– and in so many “pictures.” The Bible is full of parables, metaphors, proverbs, and histories that provide us with word pictures of His character. In Genesis, we read the story of Abraham and Isaac, which illustrates the great sacrifice God would make for our Salvation. Abraham was willing to give his son– the son God had promised– believing that God could raise him from the dead. Isaac didn’t die. He didn’t even know what was coming. But Jesus DID. God’s promises never fail. Unlike Isaac, Jesus KNEW what awaited Him at Calvary. He knew there would be no last-minute, substitute ram. HE was the lamb who would be slain. And He would rise victorious!

In Exodus, God provides another parallel; another word picture to show what He would do. He sent ten plagues on Egypt to prove His power, both to the Egyptians AND to the nation of Israel. But the tenth plague was much more than just a display of power. It was a metaphor for the Cross. In order to escape the Angel of Death, the Israelites were to use hyssop and the blood of the Passover lamb to “paint” the top and sides of their doorframes. Using the hyssop, they “whipped” blood onto the wooden doorframe, causing it to “bleed”– at the top, and on each side. The blood would drip down, creating a similar pattern to the blood on the cross–blood from the wounds on Jesus’ head and outstretched hands. There would even be a pool of blood on the ground, suggesting where His feet would be nailed to a wooden cross. It is a stark picture– a gruesome picture of pain and suffering. But it is a powerful picture that shows us how Jesus’ pain and suffering led to our Salvation. Death holds no power over the Cross! We can rest, knowing that God’s plan is for our rescue, not our destruction.

In the New Testament, Jesus used metaphors and explained how ancient stories foretold His arrival, as well as His death and resurrection. He used the story of Jonah to explain that He would be in the grave for three days. He used the prophets to remind His listeners of God’s many promises. His disciples recorded the stories. The Apostles continued to use the ancient scriptures to “show” that Jesus was the Messiah and that His life and death fulfilled the promises and prophecies.

Time after time, Jesus told parables– stories that were meant to “show” the character of His Father. And WE are also meant to reflect Our Father to the world! WE are to be pictures of God’s Love, His Grace and Mercy, His Faithfulness, and His Holiness. Whatever we do, wherever we go today, we WILL be like a photograph, showing others who we are inside– what we value, what we believe, who we trust, how we love and how we live. We can be powerful witnesses to God’s Love by the way we go about our daily activities. But we can also be “duds”– pictures of people pursuing worthless activities, or looking at the world from a dozen skewed perspectives.

I pray that my “photo” today will reflect God’s character, challenge assumptions, encourage others, and stir powerful reactions for HIS Glory!

November 15, 2023 1

What We Keep…

I’ve been posting a lot lately about going through my Mom’s “stuff.” Mom was a saver– a pack rat– a hoarder, really. She kept boxes and piles of useless things. But she also kept things that have value to those she left behind. My siblings and I have found old photographs, momentos, letters, documents, etc., that bring the past alive again..not just our past, but our family roots going back generations.

My mother with her mom and younger sister c. 1944

What prompts us to keep such memories; to hold tightly to faded papers, worn objects, shadows of days gone by? Sometimes, it is an unhealthy focus on past memories– good and bad– that keep us in the grip of “glory days” or old and festering wounds. But there IS a value to keeping a record of the past.

When I was young, we had dozens of books around the house, including Bible Story books. The stories of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac, Moses, Samson and Samuel, King David, Queen Esther, Elijah, and then Jesus, his disciples, the Apostle Paul…they were mesmerizing– and very instructive! God didn’t just give us Ten Commandments and a list of rules to follow. He left us with a rich tapestry of stories of real people, and their very real adventures. He has given us Parables, and Psalms, Prophets and Promises– the Bible is a living book that speaks to each new generation with timeless truths. I learned about the Faithfulness of God, His Holiness, and His Mercy in those pages.

The stories and photos that get passed down in families can also be instructive. I now have a baby picture of the grandfather I never got to meet, as well as a photo of him as a young man, and another candid shot of him wearing a milk bucket on his head (He was a dairy farmer)! I can see and sense his humor and love of family in new ways, and appreciate the way his life and early death helped shaped my own dad’s life. I have letters my great-grandparents wrote to each other when they were first married and starting their family. I have some of Mom’s letters when she was struggling as a single mother on a limited income. Many of these items I will keep–not only as a reminder of the past that shaped me, but to pass on to future generations. Other photos, letters, and objects have been given to certain other family members– it is part of the legacy THEY will pass on. Still other items I will let go– they have served their purpose and other items will take their place.

The little country church I attended as a child.

It has been tempting, with the amount of “stuff” that my Mom kept, to just throw everything out. Much of it has to be cleaned off, sorted, identified– and room must be found to keep it! So I also have to look around at what I have been hanging on to, and ask, “Why?” What lessons to I want to pass on? What objects tell an instructive story about my life? What impact will I have on others in the years to come?

One of the most difficult things to go through are the photos and letters my Mother kept. She kept nearly every letter and greeting card she ever received. They meant that much to her. Not the actual cards and paper– the thoughts, the love and connection–the people they represent were her greatest treasures on this earth. And I can’t keep them all. I don’t have space, and many of the people are strangers to me– her elementary classmates, co-workers from years gone by, great-aunts–people long since dead and, with my mom’s passing, forgotten by most. But I will keep some, because they are a testament to Mom’s love of others– her deep and abiding love for everyone who touched her life, and allowed her to touch theirs. I have thrown out, recycled, or given away many of Mom’s clothes and books, and I’m working to give away the thousands of unused greeting cards she had stockpiled but never sent. But most of all, I will keep the stories– stories of God’s faithfulness in her life; stories of how He worked in and through her life to touch hundreds of others; stories of how God’s Love blooms in the simple acts of kindness and baby steps of Faith; in the ordinary joys and tears and minor miracles of daily life.

And I will hold tightly to the stories of my childhood– of Moses and the Burning Bush; of Jesus the Good Shepherd; of David trusting God to face Goliath; of the women finding an empty tomb on the first Easter Morning. One of the pictures I inherited is a print of Jesus on the Road to Emmaus. Two men are walking along, talking to a third man. Such a simple act. Such an ordinary occurrence. But this is no ordinary walk– the man in the middle is the Risen Christ–the One who conquered death to bring eternal life to the two unsuspecting travelers. The print hangs on my wall now. The print itself is not of much material value– but the story! That is worth my life– to keep, to share, to cherish, to proclaim to those yet to come!

July 26, 2023 0

A Prayer For Fathers

We are approaching Father’s Day. It is a day of celebration for many people, but it can also be a day of sadness for others. This year will be a milestone for our family, as my father passed away 25 years ago; and yet–we are preparing to celebrate the birth of my grand-nephew’s first child. This will make him a father, my nephew will become a grandfather, and my brother will become a great-grandfather! My husband is a father and grandfather, and so are three of his brothers. We also have brothers, brothers-in-law, nephews and cousins who are great dads. So we really have a lot to celebrate!

Fatherhood– the kind we celebrate– is more than just contributing genetic material to a new life, or claiming a child on an income tax statement, or showing up once in awhile for major events. Fatherhood involves sacrifice. It requires wisdom and patience. It involves ongoing commitments, and the tough love that says, “No” because it’s the right thing, rather than the easy thing to say. Fatherhood requires a man to be a teacher, provider, protector, defender, coach, and disciplinarian. It also requires humility, and grace, encouragement and sometimes tears. In addition, fatherhood requires prayer. No father is perfect, and no father can do all that he needs to in his own power. Fathers need our support and encouragement, our grace, and our prayers.

It is tempting to label our fathers. I have known “good” fathers. And I have known fathers who have abandoned or even abused their responsibilities, causing trauma, anguish, and hurt to their families, lasting for generations. My own father wasn’t perfect, but he was a “good” father. He was a man of humor and integrity, faithful, honest, loving and humble; a man of faith, and a man of honor. My father-in-law was the same. They left wonderful legacies of wisdom, hard work, and quiet strength. But I know of other fathers who have ruined the lives of their children (as well as their own lives) through fear, selfishness, addictions, abuse, anger, greed, and pride. Father’s Day can cause regret, envy, and bitterness in the hearts of many fathers and children alike. Many people would like to forget about their fathers on Father’s Day. Some don’t even know how to celebrate– they’ve never seen or heard from their father; some don’t even know his name!

But Father’s Day is not only for “good” fathers. It is a time to honor those who have been faithful, but it is also a time to reach out to those who need help. Good fathers are needed! And “bad” fathers need to be called out– not indulged or ignored, but held, guided, rehabilitated, or even incarcerated, for the good of their children. Hurting boys often grow up to be hurtful fathers. Hurting girls often end up in hurtful relationships. Hurtful fathers often struggle with their own baggage of hurt and disappointment from past generations, without knowing how to change. Fathers need more than a “day”, a cook-out, or another tie. They need a mission and a purpose; they need respect and forgiveness; they need encouragement and accountability.

My prayer today is that this Father’s Day can be a day of honor AND of healing for fathers and their children. I pray that struggling fathers will be encouraged and strengthened; that hard-working, faithful fathers will see the rewards of their efforts and find hope to keep going; that absent and apathetic fathers will wake up to the challenge and the gift of fatherhood; that broken fathers will find help and healing for themselves AND for their families; that hurting sons and daughters will find the grace to move beyond the pain of unmet expectations and abuse to become better men and women.

All that I pray for is made possible because we have a Heavenly Father– a perfect, loving, eternally wise Father– who loves us through our struggles and our pain. He knows our every need, sees our every tear, and hears our every prayer. He is ready to be our coach, our provider, our healer, our disciplinarian, and our protector. No matter our experiences or how we feel about our earthly fathers, or about being a father, we can trust Him to be all that we need. Our Heavenly Father will never abandon us, reject us, abuse us, or despise us. He will comfort, encourage, uplift, and guide us– now and forever. All we need to do is pray and accept Him for all that He is!

June 16, 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.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

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.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

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

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.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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

Tag: legacy