Could You Use a Bit of Good News?

Back in the days of homeschooling, I gave my daughter Christine (now an Army-chick, Army wife, and mother) a writing assignment: write the news as if it were really news. This was not some commentary on the lack of intelligent newscasts that flood todays networks -- "In tonight's special report we go behind the scenes at the local McDonald's to see if customers really are 'lovin' it,'" OR "An out of control car careens into a corner full of school children killing nine, a masked vigilante holds a pedophile hostage in a local synagogue for six hours, but in tonight's BIG STORY, rain hits our region again." What I had in mind for this little project was for her to see our world as it really is -- broken, dying, corrupt -- and to recognize this is not news. What is really news is that even on such a planet, among a sinful and selfish bunch of people, the goodness, kindness, peace and love of God exist. Who doesn't look at the News from time to time, and wonder just how bad its going to get? Who doesn't marvel at the depths of depravity to which we have sunk? This is not news. We have removed God from every facet of public life in this gross misinterpretation of church and state. It is much more appealing to crush candy on Facebook or press the "On Demand" button, than to pray and do family devotions. In a society where workaholics and up-and-comers are lauded and genetic lottery winners are promulgated as the status quo, why is it Breaking News that a "quiet, gentle man" snapped and mowed down coworkers in a hail of bullets, or a "wonderful wife and mother" drowned her two small children in a bathtub so she could be free to run off with her crack-dealer? Please don't think I am dismissing any personal responsibility or mitigating the severity of these crimes, but I ask, given our efforts to police ourselves, to remove any obligation to a Higher Authority, to render subjective things like standards and truth, why is this "News?" What, exactly, did we expect?

So, I have decided to complete my own writing assignment. I give to you, Murphyville's Local News at Noon:

Good afternoon, and welcome to the noon edition of Murphyville News. Our top story today is the story of Althea, whose husband has an undiagnosed nerve condition which causes excruciating pain and burning in his legs. Her husband, Larry also suffers from seizures and mini-strokes brought on by a brain aneurism. Althea is trusting God to provide for her and her family, and to heal Larry from his medical conditions. She does get a little down from time to time, but her own story of God's healing and faithfulness is proof to her that God loves her and Larry very much. She clings to the life and the hope she now has in God after He brought her from a life-threatening accident and addiction to a relationship with Him.

A Murphyville man is also crediting God with bringing him out from a life of addiction. It has been three years since Darryl has touched a drop of alcohol, and six months since he has misused pharmaceuticals. He says the Lord gives him strength for the fight everyday. He also believes God was present during the times he was tempted to give in to his addictions, such as when he lost his job. "It was difficult on the entire family, but a group from church took up a collection of food items to stock our pantry, and met with my wife each week to pray for us and shower her with encouragement," he says. Darryl's fellow brothers and sisters in Christ became a visible symbol of the love of God, and ministered to his family in their hours of need. 

In other news, the serial rapist that once threatened the neighboring town of Mount Inez has been apprehended. Police say it was the work of conscientious citizens and prayer warriors that put a stop to this man's reign of terror and his heinous attacks. They believe that without the intervention of Almighty God, this list of this rapist's victims could have grown at an astounding rate. Victims are encouraged to seek treatment at a local counselor. The rapist will be spending his time in incarceration undergoing therapy for his issues and seeking to rid his life of sinful compulsions through Bible study and prayer. One local church has begun praying for each of his victims; another is praying for the rebirth of the rapist himself. 

From our Community Page: The tensions between black and white neighborhoods have ceased after a local rally for Murphyville youth. The theme for the three day event was "Created In God's Image," and focused on the differences and the value of differences between ethnic groups. It also celebrated mankind as a single, united race -- the human race. "The fear and ignorance that sparks the fire of racial tensions is not from God," one youth explained. God created us all in His image; we all have immeasurable value. It's our differences that equip us for His work and make our world beautiful. We should never despise those differences."

And so forth and so on. Look, I know it's a little hokey, but let's face it, bad news sells. We all have this intrinsic desire to see the worst, a curiosity about those things we might not go so far as to do ourselves, to shake our heads and feel better about ourselves because "we're not a s bad as that guy." But none of this is news. Adam stood by and watched while Eve was lured into the serpent's deception. Cain killed Abel. People sought to exalt themselves to godlike power. Sin has been going on almost since the Earth's inaugural revolutions. What is really news -- good news -- is that, thanks to a God who loves us beyond measure, we can work with our hands and feet in this world and our hearts and minds in the next.

How Can Jesus Be the Answer When My Life Is Such a Trainwreck?

I've started this post a hundred different times in a hundred different ways. It begins with the joy of holding my granddaughters and the anticipation of holding a grandson. It begins with the longing for a child to return to their roots in the church, and longings for a child who has never known the love of a church family to begin growing some roots of her own. It starts with the grief and finality of losing a father to whom I could never be reconciled, and the confusion and pain of losing a mother right before my eyes. It begins with weight issues and relationship issues, successes and failures; addictions and recoveries, good deeds and relapses. In short, this is a story of many, but it is the story that I know. It is my life story.

This Thanksgiving, our pastor had asked for folks to share a testimony, the thing for which they were most thankful. In the past I would have sought "the right answer." You know, the answer that would make the pastor swell with pride, knowing his sermons were not in vain. Jesus. But this time I earnestly looked for the answer that was true, and by God's grace it was "the right answer." And the authenticity of that answer -- for me, anyway -- begins and ends with my life story. God has proven to me, time and time again, that He is real, He is faithful, He is love, and He is the answer. Yes, I know it sounds trite. Yes, I know it sounds like I am the greatest suck-up to ever sit in the third row, right-hand side of Resurrection Life Church. And yes, I know too that there are no words adequate enough to describe the importance and the value of Jesus in my life.

As I prepared my testimony, the one thing that kept coming back to me was this:

"I believe in [Christ] as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see [Him], but because by [Him] I see everything else." ~~ C.S. Lewis, Is Theology Poetry? (1945)

When I think of what my relationship with Jesus means to me, Lewis captured my thoughts perfectly. And isn't this true of most relationships and experiences? Why do people remember where they were when John F. Kennedy was assassinated, or the Towers collapsed? Why do soldiers return from combat as entirely different people? Why does the lovesick teenager drop two grade points from one semester to the next? Why do some victims of domestic abuse turn to abuses of their own -- alcohol or drugs? Our relationships and our experiences can color how we prioritize things, or how we view the people around us. If we allow the relationships of this life to control who we are or what we do, no doubt we will vacillate from good to bad and from stable to manic. If we allow our experiences to determine the actions we take in future situations, we might well be apprehensive when we should be bold, or we might rush ahead in overconfidence when we should proceed with caution.

Malachi 3:6 says, "I, the LORD, do not change." Hebrews 13:8 says, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever." When I view life from the perspective of one who has put her trust in Jesus and has committed to handing over each and every situation to Him, I can rest knowing that He will manage the issue, not my fear, or ignorance, or impetuosity.

Who would plan a vacation around the carry-on they were permitted to take on the flight? "Hm, I can only take this small tote, so I guess I'll only be staying one night." Yet, we fashion entire lives around the baggage we choose to carry, trying to avoid being unprepared, or inconvenienced, or uncomfortable. Would a mother and father beg the obstetrician to deliver their bouncing bundle of joy months before she was due? Yet, we rush through our lives trying to get from one celebration to the next, trying to perpetually relive the joy of Christmas in the long, cold winters of our lives. We want painless. We want sunny and seventy-five. We want microwaveable and one-step. But what kind of a life would that be? Is it even living at all?

Jesus never promises us a carefree story, but He does promise to be there every step of the way, holding us, carrying us, dragging us if He must. He does promise to sustain and bless us (Isaiah 41:10). He does promise to change our hearts and make us complete (2 Corinthians 5:21). He does promise us a new life in Him (2 Corinthians 5:17) -- one that is not beholden to circumstances and experiences. He does promise us a peace that passes all understanding (Philippians 4:7) -- even when this life delivers its worst. He is our refuge and fortress when our knees are buckled under the weight of tragedy (Psalm 46:1). He is good (Psalm 136:1), He is perfect (Psalm 18:30), and He is completely, madly in love with each one of us (Romans 5:8).

Not only are we unable to do all these things for ourselves simultaneously, perfectly, thoroughly, but we certainly can't stop the bad things from camping out on our doorstep every once in a while. God can, and sometimes He does. But if we do all we can to circumvent the bad parts of the story, we have no story to tell. Best to ride out the storms with the One who is my friend and "right answer" -- Jesus.

Thanksgiving Day 2014

It was nearing sunset as we drove through one tiny borough after another, on our way "home." Thanksgiving Day, and for the second year in a row my truck was stacked to the headliner with baby gear and clothing. But that's about where the similarities end.

I'd begun bracing for impact shortly before Halloween last year; I could see the situation deteriorating. For over a month I had denied, prayed, hoped, fixed -- by Thanksgiving it was done. All our son had worked for throughout the final days of summer was gone, and the grief was almost too much to bear. Those early days documented on social media -- the pride he took in his new truck, his goofy "driving hat," the ribbings he would give to "Murph" for being a Ford man. And those last days etched in my mind -- his inability to even hold a cigarette, the homelessness and turmoil he seemed to embrace. The future seemed to be cemented in hopelessness and yet, wildly uncertain. I had no plan, no solution, and certainly no vision for what was to come, but I was doing what I'd done time after time -- trying to restore order to the chaos that flooded the lives of people who love him. Even trying to gather back some of the pieces that had scattered upon impact as if, once the dust settled, he could use them to rebuild somehow. Sometimes I think it's that working to repair that helps us cope and sets us on the road to believing things will one day be livable again -- that, and lots of tears, and lots of prayers. And hope. I always have hope; I know I belong to the God of Hope. But what about my son? Where is my hope for him? Where does he find hope for himself?

Fast forward to Thanksgiving Day 2014. Our son is waiting at home for his fiancé and I to return with her things. He is beginning a new life, and seems to understand that some days are just blocks on the calendar -- work, sleep, do it again tomorrow; that the rush that comes with buying a new car, or having a baby, or starting a new job, happens only every now and again. That most days we must simply "be." But those are the days upon which a life is built, bridges to those monumental days. Days that test our meddle, that make us who we are, and point us in the right direction toward milestone days. And if we fail to establish who we are on all of those typical calendar days, like an addict, we will crave and do just about anything to experience the freedom and euphoria of wilder days, days of celebration and butterflies in our stomachs, simply to mask where we fall short on those nine-to-five days. If we fail to find happiness and hope as we run the gauntlet of day-after-days, we become nothing more than quasars, burning ourselves out as we run at full tilt for the duration of our short lives.

Even as I celebrate the remarkable contrasts between our life last year and our life today, I'm still not sure from what well our son draws his hope. But I do know where I draw mine, and I do know that it is the God of Hope that painted the sunset we drove toward on this Thanksgiving Day.

God Can; God Does; God Will. God's Time.

My parents had not been in town a week before my father had us sitting in a pew at the church where I grew up. When family vacation straddled a Sunday morning, we were guests in whatever Methodist church opened its doors. Church has always been a part of my life even when I wasn't a part of it. The guilt that would grip me from time to time on a Sunday morning, the pull I would feel to return to what I knew was home, the longing I had to be wrapped in it's familiar embrace -- especially when I was going through some mess I'd created... Church has been my second home longer than any other place. I've been to churches that fit, and churches that didn't. I've been greeted warmly, and completely ignored. I've sat, stood, and kneeled. I've shared a cup, dipped into a cup, and sipped from plastic cups, their crackles echoing for hours after they've been introduced to the tile floor of a sanctuary during prayer. I've worshipped in a myriad of ways, and heard countless sermons -- some good, some bad, some which immediately stirred the spirit, and some which simmered for a period of time. One of the "simmerers" bubbled up again this week...

Abraham of the Bible. He was promised by God, that at one hundred years of age, he would have a son. Someone recently pointed out this was not an immaculate conception; Abraham believed, and "got busy," he said. Not exactly a pretty picture, but definitely a poignant one. Abraham was so convinced that God could -- God would -- he lit the candles, put on the Lyre for Lovers CD, dumped the lamb from Tamar's Takeout onto the good plates, and made a little romance with giggling Sarah.

That Sunday, the pastor asked for a show of hands:

"Who believes God can heal and prosper them?"

Almost every hand went up. Then:

"Who believes God will heal and prosper them?"

A pitiful showing. And this was in church! I would think there was a Christian or two present. This pastor then spent the next twenty minutes or so demonstrating what a faithless lot Christians can be, and how we needed to move toward changing the way we thought about God's love and provision for us. Claim God's promises. Not a bad thing, right? Well, I walked out of that service questioning my faith -- deeply. Why were we always struggling to make end meet? Why was I divorced? Why were some of my relationships strained to the point of breaking? I must be doing something wrong, right? I need to get me some faith! Wrong. If faith healed everyone, not a Christian would be in Glory. We'd all be here, rich, healthy, smiling, getting along with each other fabulously.

This week I read this statement:

"God wants us to focus our faith in His ability, not necessarily His willingness, to fulfill our prayer requests."

There might be some truth to that, but I think we're still missing the point. The Bible is a collective, a tapestry woven throughout the history recorded in its pages, a letter -- God's letter to each of us -- not a reference manual. You can't take a story or verse and say, "Ok, this is it, the key to what God wants me to know about..." I heard a woman quote James 4:2 last week ("Ye have not because ye ask not.") in reference to opening up another cashier to handle the long line at Aldi! There's no magic formula. You can't just quote a verse and expect to have a thorough understanding of how God works. Relationship with God is just that -- relationship, and good relationships are never one-dimensional.

Almighty God is the Creator of all life; He has the power to do as He pleases. God can. But God is no holy vending machine. Some who were sick have been made completely whole. Praise God, He does that. But God is also looking at a universe-sized picture, and that includes a body of folks who've endured some stuff for the sake of God's plan -- and some who will continue to endure it until the day they meet God face to face. The Bible is full of promises that we can believe are true because God is not a liar. God will. But it's all in His time. He has a plan -- a good plan, a perfect plan.

So does the diabetic thank God for healing him -- one day? Does the homeless young mother of three thank God for the eventual food they will eat at their eventual table in their eventual home? Certainly. Almighty God is a God who calls things that are not as though they are (Romans 4:17). Why would He do that if they were not meant to be? I'm not talking about God getting you that job as Beyoncé's personal assistant or dropping that new F-250 off at your front door. But providing food, or a way to get to work, or healing for you and your family? God will -- on this side of Heaven or the next. In the meantime, thank God for it now. 

Abraham was ninety-nine when he stepped out in faith. Besides, there's nothing wrong with a little goat cheese by candlelight.