When I was in my twenties, at a crisis moment when my emotions threatened to overwhelm me, I was listening to a B.J. Thomas song and as I heard the words, "He's the hand on my shoulder", I broke down and cried out to God, telling Him that I felt so alone and there was no one to put a hand on my shoulder when I needed it. That evening, there in my car as I drove down University Avenue, for just 30 seconds or so I felt a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder but when I looked, there was no one there. Yet I knew I was not alone.
Over the decades since that evening, the memory has come back to me from time to time. When it happened, it encouraged me, strengthened me, awed me. But it didn't mature me. Over time the warmth of the moment faded and spiritual growth came through slow, consistent soaking in God's word, hanging out with others who were dedicated Christ-followers, trying my best to follow the One with nail prints in His hands.
If God were to physically touch me today or demonstrate His power in any tangible way, I think I would be overwhelmed with gratitude. I often pray for healing for myself and others and I have no doubt He can do it, both in the physical, the emotional, and the spiritual realm.
It's just occurred to me recently that while Jesus performed miracles when He walked on earth, He also basically said that people who specialize in miracles such as casting out demons, calling out "Lord, Lord", and prophesying in His name may still hear some shocking words at the end of time: depart from Me - I never knew you. In other words, as wonderful as supernatural manifestations of God's presence are, they can still turn out to be fake, they can be counterfeited, and in the end, they can leave the one who is highly invested in them eternally high and dry.
But I have never seen such a rebuke towards those who help the poor.
I've seen Scripture where God has trashed religious people for fasting and offering burnt sacrifices while ignoring the poor (Isaiah 58). And as I've indicated, I've read where God has trashed people who were demonstrating that they were tight with Him because of the supernatural things they could apparently do. (Matt 7:21 - 23). And I've seen passages where God trashes His people for vicious talk, jealousy, dissension, arrogance, lack of compassion, and hypocrisy. (The book of James). But I haven't seen anywhere in Scripture (although it may be there and I've just overlooked it - I'm not a Bible scholar) where God says, "Depart from me, you who help the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the stranger within your gates".
Does helping the poor automatically get you into the gates of Heaven. I don't think so.
But it does seem to be a sort of litmus test for those who claim to be Christ followers.
I live in a poor area where houses are small, yards are open, meth houses are not unknown, and everybody pretty much knows everyone else's business. Unlike in nicer areas where most people have privacy fences, remote control garages, and large homes which sort of buffer one family from another, the raw tensions, passions, needs, and rough edges of people around us occasionally hang out for everyone to see and sometimes those unbridled passions culminate in tragedy.
I know about the family down the street where both the mom and the dad have had horrendous health issues while both sons have done their best to mess their lives up big time. I know about the widow a few houses down who faithfully works in her yard, volunteers with Hospice, attends church, and carefully locks her door against the crime which is probably present on most people's minds in this area. I know about several families that have gone through divorce and about families where their kids are out of control, struggling with anger issues. I know that I live on a street where great compassion and courage live side-by-side with great depravity and endless need.
Jesus attracted adulterers, murderers, white collar embezzlers, turncoats, occupying soldiers, secret followers from the establishment, rough edged, foul mouth "dock workers", disenfranchised political zealots, and prostitutes. He walked the mean streets of Judea and I know He walks the mean streets of our neighborhood today. I know He was here Friday night when everything came down and a man lost his life, a young boy lost what little innocence he had left, and lives were forever changed.
Even though I was thrown for a loop by what happened, He was not.
To Him alone belong the issues of life and death. And to Him alone belongs the power that can break iron bars asunder and release the captives from prisons of their own making.
Jesus loves every broken heart, every broken life on this street.
Church is where we go to have our batteries recharged.
But the street is where our faith is lived out as we follow the dust covered sandals of a poor carpenter from Galilee who helped the poor, rebuked the respected, and willingly died a criminal's death.
For me.
For you.
And for every broken life on these mean streets.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
When Two Worlds Collide
Two nights ago, a man was kicked and beaten to death just a few feet away from our front yard while I watched from our living room window. It was dark, in the middle of the night, and the victim died on the other side of his truck, which shielded me from the particulars of what was happening. All I could really see was shadowy figures running back and forth across the lawn while I heard what I thought was something being slammed into the side of Sammy's truck. It wasn't until last night that I realized what I heard was probably Sammy's body being pounded up against the side of his vehicle.
Ironically, he was really proud of that truck, an expensive over-sized vehicle that was always clean and polished and which basically shouted, "I've arrived! I have money!" Mesmerized and shocked to my core, I watched Friday night as first the ambulance took Sammy away, slowly and without any sirens going, and then as a tow truck hauled off his beloved truck, which was now ignominiously battered by bricks and almost certainly stained by Sammy's blood and was perhaps the best, albeit silent, witness to what happened to its owner.
This morning I didn't plan to go to church but at the last minute, I did. In my opinion, it proved to be pretty much a disaster. I love the music but this morning something broke inside me as I tried to reconcile the bright lights and the singing which was my current reality with the memories of a far different reality - of metallic thuds in the dark of night followed by surreal strobe lights illuminating a death scene.
This morning, two kingdoms collided inside me - the kingdom of darkness - which has left an indelible impression on my mind - juxtaposed against the kingdom of light which for a few tortured minutes today seemed to be as surreal to me as the blue lights on Friday night.
I had to ask myself, "Which one was real?"
The answer was: both. Intellectually I know that. Heart wise, for a while, I didn't. Maybe that's not good to admit but that's just the honest truth.
All I can say is be kind to the stranger sitting in the pew next to you. You never know what is going on inside their heart and when a person is torn between Kingdom realities, the struggle can be intense.
Today the total stranger standing on my aisle stepped back to let me pass her and as she saw my tears she said, 'It'll be alright, Honey."
And I know it will, just maybe not today.
And maybe not tomorrow either.
But in time, the ruler of this world must give way to the One that I am waiting for and at that time, all death will cease and every tear will be wiped away.
Today I cried a bucket full and am still crying a little even as I write this.
When I get to Heaven and see my Savior face-to-face, He's going to have to have a ginormous box of Kleenex and those in line behind me will have to just wait while the tears of this weekend are wiped away by His nail-scarred hand. He alone is my hope.
That plus the words, "It'll be alright, Honey." spoken by a total stranger as well as the kindness shown to me by ushers and the pastor as I blundered out of the sanctuary, which for me was anything but this morning, thinking to find a bathroom where I could "pull myself together".
Earlier this month, I heard Lisa Harper quote the "noted theologian Mick Jagger", saying that Mick was right - you can't get no satisfaction down here. On a Sunday morning following such a Friday night, I would have to agree.
Yet I know that's not really the end of the song. The rest of it goes: you can and will find satisfaction up There.
If you know Jesus.
Which I really, really, really, really hope that Sammy did.
This weekend for me, two kingdoms graphically collided, impinging on each other. They are both real, very much so.
I have to ask, to which kingdom do you belong?
Ironically, he was really proud of that truck, an expensive over-sized vehicle that was always clean and polished and which basically shouted, "I've arrived! I have money!" Mesmerized and shocked to my core, I watched Friday night as first the ambulance took Sammy away, slowly and without any sirens going, and then as a tow truck hauled off his beloved truck, which was now ignominiously battered by bricks and almost certainly stained by Sammy's blood and was perhaps the best, albeit silent, witness to what happened to its owner.
This morning I didn't plan to go to church but at the last minute, I did. In my opinion, it proved to be pretty much a disaster. I love the music but this morning something broke inside me as I tried to reconcile the bright lights and the singing which was my current reality with the memories of a far different reality - of metallic thuds in the dark of night followed by surreal strobe lights illuminating a death scene.
This morning, two kingdoms collided inside me - the kingdom of darkness - which has left an indelible impression on my mind - juxtaposed against the kingdom of light which for a few tortured minutes today seemed to be as surreal to me as the blue lights on Friday night.
I had to ask myself, "Which one was real?"
The answer was: both. Intellectually I know that. Heart wise, for a while, I didn't. Maybe that's not good to admit but that's just the honest truth.
All I can say is be kind to the stranger sitting in the pew next to you. You never know what is going on inside their heart and when a person is torn between Kingdom realities, the struggle can be intense.
Today the total stranger standing on my aisle stepped back to let me pass her and as she saw my tears she said, 'It'll be alright, Honey."
And I know it will, just maybe not today.
And maybe not tomorrow either.
But in time, the ruler of this world must give way to the One that I am waiting for and at that time, all death will cease and every tear will be wiped away.
Today I cried a bucket full and am still crying a little even as I write this.
When I get to Heaven and see my Savior face-to-face, He's going to have to have a ginormous box of Kleenex and those in line behind me will have to just wait while the tears of this weekend are wiped away by His nail-scarred hand. He alone is my hope.
That plus the words, "It'll be alright, Honey." spoken by a total stranger as well as the kindness shown to me by ushers and the pastor as I blundered out of the sanctuary, which for me was anything but this morning, thinking to find a bathroom where I could "pull myself together".
Earlier this month, I heard Lisa Harper quote the "noted theologian Mick Jagger", saying that Mick was right - you can't get no satisfaction down here. On a Sunday morning following such a Friday night, I would have to agree.
Yet I know that's not really the end of the song. The rest of it goes: you can and will find satisfaction up There. If you know Jesus.
Which I really, really, really, really hope that Sammy did.
This weekend for me, two kingdoms graphically collided, impinging on each other. They are both real, very much so.
I have to ask, to which kingdom do you belong?
Friday, May 24, 2013
Grace and love...
This morning I had the privilege of going with a "loaner" child to the zoo... ha! Actually, I have been known to borrow a friend's kid when I wanted to go see a children's movie but didn't want to look out of place! But this was a bit different.
This was an Easter Seals field trip and since the parents could not go as they normally do, they asked me if I wanted to go with their son. No one had to go with the four-year-old boy - the daycare could have managed without any extra help - but with a bus full of three and four-year-old kids, the more adults the better. I haven't been to the zoo in ages, my little friend is a really cute kid, and so it was a no-brainer. Of course I wanted to go! The weather was perfect - blue skies, warm temps, and a slight breeze.
When I got there, I saw a fairly good sized group and quickly found my little friend. The first thing I realized was that I should have practiced a bit... Brakes on a wheel chair??? Who knew??? (Well, my friend did because later he put one brake on somehow and we did a half circle for a bit there... Pretty sad when a four-year-old knows more than you do...)
My little friend is legally blind but can see lights and large shapes when he wears his glasses. As we approached the first pen, I said something like, "See the monkey swinging from the tree!" One of the workers knelt down by my friend and said, "Do you hear the train coming?" Immediately she got a response, "Twain!" I realized I was still working my way up a much needed learning curve! (How did I get this far along in life without learning how to converse with an extremely nearsighted child in a wheel chair???) I paid attention and heard her describe things to my guy so I started doing the same. "There's a giraffe! It has a really long neck and it's looking right at you!"
I have to admit that my little friend wasn't impressed with the giraffe but he did reach out to touch the wood barrier separating us from the wildlife and he asked about a golf cart that passed us a little later. He also captained our "ship" at times, saying things like, "Push me!" Clearly, I was falling down on the job; I guess when you've listened to one bear nap in the shade, you've listened to them all...:) So I told him that we'd let the bear nap and move on. He turned his sweet face towards me and said, "I hada nap..." I got the message: naps are okay for bears but not for boys...
When we got to the penguins, he ordered me to move closer while he reached his hand out to touch the glass, clearly reaching for the light that was refracted through the water behind the glass. The little guy has taste - it was the neatest exhibit that we visited, tons better than the bear thing or the snake thing or the capybara thing. (Really, who wants to see something that looks like a cross between a pig and a ferret?)
When we rode the train, I wondered what was going through his mind. When we got to the picnic table, he told me. "I want milk." "No milk! I want apples." "No apples! I want milk." I went through a routine worthy of vaudeville as I opened a jar of apple sauce only to have to close it again in order to break out the milk only to have to put it away in order to break out the apple sauce again. He never drank or ate anything but had fun keeping me busy until finally I burst out laughing and said, "You are playing with me!"
His teacher said he'd probably eat after his nap which automatically elicited another, "I hada nap!"
During the trip, there was another woman who was accompanying her niece, also a child in a wheel chair. This girl looked to be about 7 years old and she only opened her eyes maybe two times during the whole outing. She was dressed in a cute outfit and her hair was nicely fixed but she never really moved or showed any sign of being aware of what was going on around her. The aunt and I talked some and she gave me some tips on how to handle the wheel chair. When it was lunch time, we ended up at different tables and for a time I was so absorbed in the I-want-whatever-you-don't-have-in-your-hand-at-the-moment game that I wasn't aware of anything else. Then when we were "finished" and waiting for the others to catch up, just sitting in the shade soaking up the breeze, I saw that the aunt had a small bag that looked like a miniature IV and she was holding it up in the air. It was at that point that I realized the little girl must have a feeding tube. I watched as the aunt held the bag up for a bit and then lowered it and added some liquid into it before raising it again.
And I thought about it.
I thought about how it would take so much grace to love like that.
The little one I was accompanying was adopted by two of the sweetest Christians I know. They got their son when he was almost two years old. At that time he was thought to be completely blind, he couldn't eat any solid food, he couldn't sit up on his own, and he couldn't say a single word. Today he walked at times while I held onto his hands, he sat up in the train with me, he told me what to do :) ("No dwinkee!!" "Go!!!") and as I've already indicated, he operated the brakes on his wheel chair better than I did.
That's love. That's grace.
But doesn't the same thing apply in any relationship? In any relationship, doesn't it take both grace and love? Grace for the difficult times and love all the time?
I was still turning those things over in my mind on my way home. As I parked the car, I suddenly really heard the words that were coming from my CD - something about a time when there will be no more pain, no more scars... And to my complete surprise, I started bawling right there in my car. Because of a woman who pushed her niece through the zoo today for 2 hours and then fed her through a tube while sitting at a picnic table. Because of a boy who couldn't sit up, talk, or walk over two years ago and now he can do all those things. And because someday both kids will be able to run, skip, and jump.
In theinterim, there is Grace. And Love. In all shapes and sizes.
Today my little friend got to hear about monkeys swinging from the trees and I got to see. Grace and love in action.
This was an Easter Seals field trip and since the parents could not go as they normally do, they asked me if I wanted to go with their son. No one had to go with the four-year-old boy - the daycare could have managed without any extra help - but with a bus full of three and four-year-old kids, the more adults the better. I haven't been to the zoo in ages, my little friend is a really cute kid, and so it was a no-brainer. Of course I wanted to go! The weather was perfect - blue skies, warm temps, and a slight breeze.
When I got there, I saw a fairly good sized group and quickly found my little friend. The first thing I realized was that I should have practiced a bit... Brakes on a wheel chair??? Who knew??? (Well, my friend did because later he put one brake on somehow and we did a half circle for a bit there... Pretty sad when a four-year-old knows more than you do...)
My little friend is legally blind but can see lights and large shapes when he wears his glasses. As we approached the first pen, I said something like, "See the monkey swinging from the tree!" One of the workers knelt down by my friend and said, "Do you hear the train coming?" Immediately she got a response, "Twain!" I realized I was still working my way up a much needed learning curve! (How did I get this far along in life without learning how to converse with an extremely nearsighted child in a wheel chair???) I paid attention and heard her describe things to my guy so I started doing the same. "There's a giraffe! It has a really long neck and it's looking right at you!"
I have to admit that my little friend wasn't impressed with the giraffe but he did reach out to touch the wood barrier separating us from the wildlife and he asked about a golf cart that passed us a little later. He also captained our "ship" at times, saying things like, "Push me!" Clearly, I was falling down on the job; I guess when you've listened to one bear nap in the shade, you've listened to them all...:) So I told him that we'd let the bear nap and move on. He turned his sweet face towards me and said, "I hada nap..." I got the message: naps are okay for bears but not for boys...
When we got to the penguins, he ordered me to move closer while he reached his hand out to touch the glass, clearly reaching for the light that was refracted through the water behind the glass. The little guy has taste - it was the neatest exhibit that we visited, tons better than the bear thing or the snake thing or the capybara thing. (Really, who wants to see something that looks like a cross between a pig and a ferret?)
When we rode the train, I wondered what was going through his mind. When we got to the picnic table, he told me. "I want milk." "No milk! I want apples." "No apples! I want milk." I went through a routine worthy of vaudeville as I opened a jar of apple sauce only to have to close it again in order to break out the milk only to have to put it away in order to break out the apple sauce again. He never drank or ate anything but had fun keeping me busy until finally I burst out laughing and said, "You are playing with me!"
His teacher said he'd probably eat after his nap which automatically elicited another, "I hada nap!"
During the trip, there was another woman who was accompanying her niece, also a child in a wheel chair. This girl looked to be about 7 years old and she only opened her eyes maybe two times during the whole outing. She was dressed in a cute outfit and her hair was nicely fixed but she never really moved or showed any sign of being aware of what was going on around her. The aunt and I talked some and she gave me some tips on how to handle the wheel chair. When it was lunch time, we ended up at different tables and for a time I was so absorbed in the I-want-whatever-you-don't-have-in-your-hand-at-the-moment game that I wasn't aware of anything else. Then when we were "finished" and waiting for the others to catch up, just sitting in the shade soaking up the breeze, I saw that the aunt had a small bag that looked like a miniature IV and she was holding it up in the air. It was at that point that I realized the little girl must have a feeding tube. I watched as the aunt held the bag up for a bit and then lowered it and added some liquid into it before raising it again.
And I thought about it.
I thought about how it would take so much grace to love like that.
The little one I was accompanying was adopted by two of the sweetest Christians I know. They got their son when he was almost two years old. At that time he was thought to be completely blind, he couldn't eat any solid food, he couldn't sit up on his own, and he couldn't say a single word. Today he walked at times while I held onto his hands, he sat up in the train with me, he told me what to do :) ("No dwinkee!!" "Go!!!") and as I've already indicated, he operated the brakes on his wheel chair better than I did.
That's love. That's grace.
But doesn't the same thing apply in any relationship? In any relationship, doesn't it take both grace and love? Grace for the difficult times and love all the time?
I was still turning those things over in my mind on my way home. As I parked the car, I suddenly really heard the words that were coming from my CD - something about a time when there will be no more pain, no more scars... And to my complete surprise, I started bawling right there in my car. Because of a woman who pushed her niece through the zoo today for 2 hours and then fed her through a tube while sitting at a picnic table. Because of a boy who couldn't sit up, talk, or walk over two years ago and now he can do all those things. And because someday both kids will be able to run, skip, and jump.
In theinterim, there is Grace. And Love. In all shapes and sizes.
Today my little friend got to hear about monkeys swinging from the trees and I got to see. Grace and love in action.
Friday, May 10, 2013
I Have Loved You...
When we first got married over 26 years ago now, I took a couple of gift certificates to Dillards and bought a very expensive set of king size sheets. Over the years, it proved to be a good investment - those sheets lasted for-ever! And we never got tired of them, we both liked the colors and patterns. Eventually however, even expensive sheets from Dillards wear out. Still, when I could have thrown them out, I didn't. I kept them partly for nostalgia and partly because, well, they are still holding together inspite of everything. I sort of feel like they kept up their end of the bargain and now I need to keep up mine :)
It has occurred to me today that our marriage is somewhat like those old sheets. Still colorful in most areas but definitely marked with ink stains (I journal in bed) and even tears - the ruffled border is, alas, no longer attached in places.
In the same way, we can look back over the fabric of our marriage and see holes that were torn by the death of loved ones, stains that were created by financial difficulties, raveled edges that testify to the joys and perplexities of child-rearing, rents that testify to heated words and selfish actions. By the same token, we can also see patches where strangers were grafted into our lives for a time for better or for worse. (Thankfully, mostly for the better!)
If we just focused on the stains, the stresses, the losses, and the tears that have come our way, we could easily have given up on our marriage. It's so human to take one negative event and draw a lifetime of conclusions from it - and we've tried to do that from time to time, please don't think we haven't. Thankfully God is always encouraging us to look at the big picture, the overall trajectory of our lives, the blessings as well as the difficulties.
And so now you think you know where I'm going with this while I just hope I know where I'm going with all this :) Seriously.
I think I'm just saying that what we are tempted to do in marriage, we are also tempted to do with God. Something terrible happens and we tell God, "I'm outa here! Clearly, You don't love me anymore!" Frankly, I can understand that. I saw my own mother wrestle with deep sorrows and perplexing situations until ultimately it became a tussle with God; He won thankfully and she stayed the course - has long since been living at home with Him, free of any and all tussles. But still, at one point it was a battle.I also think most Christians fear the awful gash in the fabric of our relationship with our divine Father. Maybe it's because we use each isolated life event as a thermometer indicating love (or lack thereof) and so we are vulnerable at each new bend in the road. Whenever a life altering event comes along or a bunch of petty negatives keeps coming one after the other, in wave after wave, the relationship thermometer looks busted, our hearts seem irreparably damaged, and we can easily conclude that God doesn't love us anymore. Just as we can so easily do in our marriages. One tough thing cancels out years of good things so to speak.
But what I'm learning from a Bible study on Malachi by Lisa Harper is that when, as she puts it, our Tara is trashed and our dog has died :), God tells us to look at the big picture, not to throw the overall fabric of our relationship with Him (and others) out because we hit a rough patch in life.
Honestly, I fully believe that some day each isolated rent, stain, and frayed border here on earth will become nostalgic markers in the overall tapestry of His rich, enduring, cradle-to-Heaven love. But until then, we need to keep our eyes on the big picture.
"I have loved you," says the Lord.
But you say, "How have You loved us?"
Malachi 1:2
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
An Invitation....
Today I am thinking of a man named Stephen.
More than 2,000 years ago, he told his audience exactly who Jesus was and then explained how his hearers had missed every single sign written by the prophets - signs that clearly pointed to Jesus. He didn't mince words when he told them that they had participated in the killing of the Son of God. Basically he presented the claims of Christ in such a way that his listeners could not refute his arguments.
So they killed him.
Ouch...
But God honored him. The Bible normally speaks of Jesus as being seated at the right hand of God the Father. In the narrative about Stephen's stoning, however, it says that Stephen saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. I think Jesus stood in order to honor Stephen, the first martyr of the early church.
How much is Jesus worth?
Stephen apparently thought Jesus was worth everything.
Over the centuries, countless others have thought the same thing.
One of them today is in Evin prison, very ill and in solitary confinement. His name is Saeed and he's not the only Christian being tortured for his faith. However, today we know for sure that Saeed's need is great. He's bleeding internally and will be in solitary for 20 days. He's been in solitary confinement before and has said that this was the darkest time for him, that each hour seemed like an entire day.
What do you do 24/7 in a bleak, stagnant cell with maybe just a blanket to sleep on? How do you pass the time away until your next "interrogation" session? How do you cope with rampant worries about your family on the outside, with threats from brutal guards who let you know that they will get your children next if you don't cooperate?
What would you give just to be able to hear your wife's voice or feel the grass on your feet and the sunshine on your face? What would it be like to have a normal day without terror sometimes dogging your steps, to have something to do in order to take your mind off of the hell that you are in?
Maybe if he just renounces Christianity.. or words things in such a convoluted way that it seems as if he is not a Jesus follower - maybe if he just bends a little here or gives a little there... What if he says that he believes in Jesus in the way that all religions believe in Jesus? What if that one sentence could bring him freedom and all he had to do was just say it...?
But it's not possible.
For Saeed and others like him, following Jesus is non-negotiable; he simply can't say what isn't true.
And this is the point of my blog: for those of us who have the awesome privilege of following Jesus in freedom, praying for men like Saeed and Farshid should also be... non-negotiable.
Hebrews 13:3
If you don't know how to pray for Saeed, an invitation from his wife, Naghmeh is included below.
More than 2,000 years ago, he told his audience exactly who Jesus was and then explained how his hearers had missed every single sign written by the prophets - signs that clearly pointed to Jesus. He didn't mince words when he told them that they had participated in the killing of the Son of God. Basically he presented the claims of Christ in such a way that his listeners could not refute his arguments.
So they killed him.
Ouch...
But God honored him. The Bible normally speaks of Jesus as being seated at the right hand of God the Father. In the narrative about Stephen's stoning, however, it says that Stephen saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. I think Jesus stood in order to honor Stephen, the first martyr of the early church.
How much is Jesus worth?
Stephen apparently thought Jesus was worth everything.
Over the centuries, countless others have thought the same thing.
One of them today is in Evin prison, very ill and in solitary confinement. His name is Saeed and he's not the only Christian being tortured for his faith. However, today we know for sure that Saeed's need is great. He's bleeding internally and will be in solitary for 20 days. He's been in solitary confinement before and has said that this was the darkest time for him, that each hour seemed like an entire day.
What do you do 24/7 in a bleak, stagnant cell with maybe just a blanket to sleep on? How do you pass the time away until your next "interrogation" session? How do you cope with rampant worries about your family on the outside, with threats from brutal guards who let you know that they will get your children next if you don't cooperate?
What would you give just to be able to hear your wife's voice or feel the grass on your feet and the sunshine on your face? What would it be like to have a normal day without terror sometimes dogging your steps, to have something to do in order to take your mind off of the hell that you are in?
Maybe if he just renounces Christianity.. or words things in such a convoluted way that it seems as if he is not a Jesus follower - maybe if he just bends a little here or gives a little there... What if he says that he believes in Jesus in the way that all religions believe in Jesus? What if that one sentence could bring him freedom and all he had to do was just say it...?
But it's not possible.
For Saeed and others like him, following Jesus is non-negotiable; he simply can't say what isn't true.
And this is the point of my blog: for those of us who have the awesome privilege of following Jesus in freedom, praying for men like Saeed and Farshid should also be... non-negotiable.
Hebrews 13:3
If you don't know how to pray for Saeed, an invitation from his wife, Naghmeh is included below.
My name is Naghmeh Abedini and I am writing to invite you to participate in a national day of prayer for my husband, Saeed Abedini, who is currently being held in a dangerous Iranian prison because of his Christian faith. Remember His Chains day of prayer and solidarity for Saeed will take place on the 13th anniversary of Saeed’s salvation and I hope to gather in prayer with hundreds of thousands of Christians around the world united in prayer for Saeed on that day.
When: May 19, 2013.
The Vision to Share: What if thousands of church congregations took steps to “remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison” (Hebrews 13:3) by making a focused, unified effort to support Saeed and remember other persecuted Christians?
How you can participate:
· Read the paragraph below on May 19, 2013, telling Pastor Saeed’s story:
In July of 2012, a Christian pastor named Saeed Abedini left the United States for what was supposed to be several weeks as he continued his efforts to establish an orphanage in Rasht, Iran. As he was about to return home, he was pulled off of a bus by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard and placed under house arrest. He remained under house arrest until September, when he was taken without warning to one of Iran’s most notorious prisons, where he has now been imprisoned for 236 days. He has broken no law, but has been charged for peacefully gathering with other Christians, a crime for which he has been sentenced to eight years in prison. For the last eight months, he has suffered beatings, threats, and torturous interrogations as Iranian authorities try to get him to renounce his faith in Jesus Christ. Pastor Saeed has stated in a letter from prison that they will never get this from him, and has described the joy that he has experienced as God gives him strength even through these intense sufferings. His wife, Naghmeh, remains in the United States with their two children and has invited churches around the nation to take a united stand in prayer and to call on God for his release.
· Pray for Pastor Saeed and his family. Pastor Saeed’s wife, Naghmeh, has asked that we pray for the following three things in particular:
1. Saeed's health. That the Lord would heal him from the internal bleeding and protect him from those who seek his life.
2. That Saeed would continue to shine the light of Jesus in prison. Ephesians 6:18-20 : “praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints—and for me, that utterance may be given to me, that I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that in it I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak.”
3. Prayer for our family. The Lord would give us continued peace and Grace as we trust Him with what the future holds.
4. Prayer that the Lord would use this to bring salvation to many, including the Muslims in the middle east.
· Promote #savesaeed and @savesaeed.org using social media. When Pastor Saeed found out about #savesaeed, he was deeply encouraged by the Church’s support. At www.savesaeed.org, please add your voices to the hundreds of thousands of people who have already signed the petition calling for his release.
· Spread the news of Saeed’s plight by having church members share his story with three friends or family members.
Will you and your affiliated congregations join us in a unified effort to support Saeed on May 19th? In order to effect the most widespread participation possible, please also consider inviting at least 3 other pastors of different congregations to join you in this effort.
When Paul was a prisoner for the gospel, he asked the church to “remember his chains” (Colossians 4:18). As a church body, let’s do the same for Saeed, whose unwavering devotion to the gospel of Christ has resulted in his bearing those same chains. We must pray for Saeed and the millions of Christians who are persecuted for the gospel all around the world.
To our faithful God be the glory,
Naghmeh Abedini
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Friday, April 26, 2013
Banished by Lauren Drain
Bill Bright said that all of man's problems can be traced to his concept of God.
In Lauren Drain's book, Banished: Surviving My Years in the Westboro Baptist Church, Fred Phelps, the founder of the cult, is described as someone who knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that God is indeed an angry God. Hate is God's overriding characteristic and so, when the Phelps family wave nasty picket signs and shout unpleasant slogans at passersby, they are not the angry haters, they are just the mouthpieces for God. He is the one who hates, um, pretty much everybody who, well, isn't a Phelps. And even then, not all the Phelps are okay - some are headed for the hottest part of hell because they are "defectors".
In the book, Lauren brings out some of the contradictory teachings of the leaders. For example, they picket in order to save souls from the wrath of God but over time they have reached the conclusion privately that no one else besides themselves will be saved. Yet the picketing continues. Hard to explain... that.
However, it is okay because they aren't into explanations. Newcomers are allowed to ask questions at first but as time goes on, questioners are shut down, ridiculed, and/or eventually banished from the ark of the inner few, the chosen ones. The Holy Spirit speaks primarily through Shirley, Fred's daughter, and everyone must adhere to Fred and Shirley's interpretation of the Bible. If they don't, there will be hell to pay... literally. So questions are out.
The book is easy to read; hard to put down. On the other hand, it is very repetitious in some places and there are a few things about Lauren's account that bothered me. When she describes how they held up picket signs after 9/11 saying that God was happy with that terrorist event, she frankly says that being on the picket line energized her and gave her a bond with the other young people of the cult and I get that. But she also said that she never intended to hurt anyone and was too childish at the time to basically identify with outsiders and their emotions - in other words, she didn't know that she was hurting people. However, by the time 9/11 happened Lauren was a teenager and had only been in the cult for about a year. (Her family joined the cult when Lauren was 15. For most of her formative years she was raised in a liberal home with no religious practices, leading a fairly normal life). I honestly don't understand how a 16 year-old could see the coverage of 9/11 and fail to understand that the yelling and sign carrying she did was indeed hurtful. Ditto for the nasty signs and yelling at military funerals where families were clearly grieving and wanted only to bury their dead in peace.
By the time I had made it three fourths of the way through the book, I found myself wanting her to at least apologize for her youthful mistakes. In the epilogue she finally did apologize for being "disrespectful" but even in hindsight she never apologized for inflicting emotional pain on others. Yet the book graphically describes her own times of pain, which were tough indeed but no more so than the ones she picketed against during her 7 year captivity in the Phelps "compound".
I think what it boils down to, maybe for me, is that brainwashing is hard to understand.
In the end, it is a truly interesting look at a group which displays all the characteristics of a cult: extreme control over the daily lives of its members, leaders who speak for God while the rest simply adhere to the new revelations and/or rules, confrontational assemblies which remind me of the "struggle" groups used in communist China and Russia, and ultimately banishment, both physical and eternal, for those who fail to toe the Phelps' family line.
And all because one man many decades ago decided that God's overriding characteristic is deep, abiding, hatred for people.
Which leads me to:
"For God....
so loved the world....
that He gave His only begotten Son...
that whoever believes in Him should not perish....
but have everlasting life."
I'm thankful that Lauren was able to leave and make a new life for herself. She definitely has courage as well as an abiding love for her family even though they have turned their backs on her. I find it hopeful that she and a few others are opting out of this group and I hope this trend continues. I certainly wish them well in their bid for freedom and hope that each"defector" will find a different God, the One of John 3:16 who so loves...
And, after reading the book, I'm more than ever inclined to agree with Bill Bright:
We can trace all of our human problems to our view of God.*
Undoubtedly, this is the case with the Phelps of Lauren's book.
* Quote is from the title page of The Discover God Study Bible published by Tyndale.
In Lauren Drain's book, Banished: Surviving My Years in the Westboro Baptist Church, Fred Phelps, the founder of the cult, is described as someone who knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that God is indeed an angry God. Hate is God's overriding characteristic and so, when the Phelps family wave nasty picket signs and shout unpleasant slogans at passersby, they are not the angry haters, they are just the mouthpieces for God. He is the one who hates, um, pretty much everybody who, well, isn't a Phelps. And even then, not all the Phelps are okay - some are headed for the hottest part of hell because they are "defectors".
In the book, Lauren brings out some of the contradictory teachings of the leaders. For example, they picket in order to save souls from the wrath of God but over time they have reached the conclusion privately that no one else besides themselves will be saved. Yet the picketing continues. Hard to explain... that.
However, it is okay because they aren't into explanations. Newcomers are allowed to ask questions at first but as time goes on, questioners are shut down, ridiculed, and/or eventually banished from the ark of the inner few, the chosen ones. The Holy Spirit speaks primarily through Shirley, Fred's daughter, and everyone must adhere to Fred and Shirley's interpretation of the Bible. If they don't, there will be hell to pay... literally. So questions are out.
The book is easy to read; hard to put down. On the other hand, it is very repetitious in some places and there are a few things about Lauren's account that bothered me. When she describes how they held up picket signs after 9/11 saying that God was happy with that terrorist event, she frankly says that being on the picket line energized her and gave her a bond with the other young people of the cult and I get that. But she also said that she never intended to hurt anyone and was too childish at the time to basically identify with outsiders and their emotions - in other words, she didn't know that she was hurting people. However, by the time 9/11 happened Lauren was a teenager and had only been in the cult for about a year. (Her family joined the cult when Lauren was 15. For most of her formative years she was raised in a liberal home with no religious practices, leading a fairly normal life). I honestly don't understand how a 16 year-old could see the coverage of 9/11 and fail to understand that the yelling and sign carrying she did was indeed hurtful. Ditto for the nasty signs and yelling at military funerals where families were clearly grieving and wanted only to bury their dead in peace.
By the time I had made it three fourths of the way through the book, I found myself wanting her to at least apologize for her youthful mistakes. In the epilogue she finally did apologize for being "disrespectful" but even in hindsight she never apologized for inflicting emotional pain on others. Yet the book graphically describes her own times of pain, which were tough indeed but no more so than the ones she picketed against during her 7 year captivity in the Phelps "compound".
I think what it boils down to, maybe for me, is that brainwashing is hard to understand.
In the end, it is a truly interesting look at a group which displays all the characteristics of a cult: extreme control over the daily lives of its members, leaders who speak for God while the rest simply adhere to the new revelations and/or rules, confrontational assemblies which remind me of the "struggle" groups used in communist China and Russia, and ultimately banishment, both physical and eternal, for those who fail to toe the Phelps' family line.
And all because one man many decades ago decided that God's overriding characteristic is deep, abiding, hatred for people.
Which leads me to:
"For God....
so loved the world....
that He gave His only begotten Son...
that whoever believes in Him should not perish....
but have everlasting life."
I'm thankful that Lauren was able to leave and make a new life for herself. She definitely has courage as well as an abiding love for her family even though they have turned their backs on her. I find it hopeful that she and a few others are opting out of this group and I hope this trend continues. I certainly wish them well in their bid for freedom and hope that each"defector" will find a different God, the One of John 3:16 who so loves...
And, after reading the book, I'm more than ever inclined to agree with Bill Bright:
We can trace all of our human problems to our view of God.*
Undoubtedly, this is the case with the Phelps of Lauren's book.
* Quote is from the title page of The Discover God Study Bible published by Tyndale.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Angie....
Sometimes I just want to write about all the things that are wrong with the world. (And I actually started that blog two days ago... only it's proving to be sort of a big topic... So I shelved it for the nonce..:)
Tonight has just been a fun evening. In fact, it's been a fun day.
Home school was a bit tough this morning as both teacher and student were pretty tired this a.m. for some reason! But still we accomplished things, managed to be movers and shakers in the world of academics :) Well, sort of...
Anyway... then lunch at a Mexican restaurant -our Spanish lesson for the day... (Can you say Enchilada?? Oui!! Um... Si!!!)
After that a neat afternoon sorting through things for a huge garage sale... (Come to Healing Waters on Saturday - I can just about guarantee that you'll find a bargain there and the money goes for a good cause!) At any rate, my friends sorted through donated things while I mostly talked so, of course, I had a blast... Then home to do some housework, a little cooking - as little as possible actually... And then internet Scrabble, complete with trash talking and breathlessly risky moves on the board... (Well, I think we were pretty daring, risking it all a time or two on some iffey words... I mean, come on! The game is not as tame as it looks:)
But, seriously, the thing I treasure most about this day (and most days) is just being with my friends, on-line and off.
They inspire me. I'm not exaggerating - I don't have a single close friend who doesn't encourage me by their example and I could write about each and every one of them right now and you would see what I mean. When I am around these ladies, they egg me on to "faith it" a little more, whine a little less, and also to ramp up my love for Jesus, who loved me first. They encourage me when I'm down and tease me when I'm too self-absorbed, which is often:) I am blessed!
Tonight I want to highlight one friend, however. A woman who is in a wheel chair and has been for some time. She has a progressive neuromuscular disease but it doesn't define her. Almost everything I take for granted, she has to think twice about and often has to have help to accomplish the simplest things.
But she never quits.
I mean.. she never quits!
The first time we met face to face, she had a book for me and I had a necklace for her. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be able to unwrap the necklace and/or lift it up and place it around her neck by herself. So what does she do? She learns to play the dulcimer... Ha! She blogs and manages to keep them short as well as to the point. (I really don't know how she does that... obviously) And when I am "around" her, she brightens my day... She has a sharp wit and is a serious Scrabble player :) She makes me think and makes me laugh, challenging me in every area of my life.
Yet it's true that she also has to work for every single breath and because her lungs are weak, her voice seldom rises above a whisper. So when I'm at her house, I lean forward because I don't want to miss her pithy punchlines! Seriously! And when she blogs, I lean forward mentally because I know I'll learn from her about God, about how to "do" life when life, at times, seems simply un-doable.
She was told years ago that she should have a feeding tube put in. She did the research and decided she would live without one. And she has.
Some time ago, she was told that she would have to go on Hospice. She thought about it, prayed about it, and decided she would get better, confound the doctors, and live a while longer, thank you very much. And she has.
She would be the first to tell you that God has helped her every step of the way and that the road has not been easy but that it has been worthwhile.
Tonight I'll undress myself, climb into bed and probably toss and turn a bit before drifting off. Angie can't do that, not any of it. Once she's been positioned in bed, she's there for the duration, until morning comes.
But I don't think there is any way that her spirit can be confined.
Someday I'll get to walk with my friend.
For right now, honestly, I'd just be happy if I could keep up! You may think I'm kidding but I'm not:)
If you want to get to know Angie and find out for yourself what makes her tick, check out her blog: http://angiesthatsthat.blogspot.com/ You'll be glad you did, I promise.
Tonight has just been a fun evening. In fact, it's been a fun day.
Home school was a bit tough this morning as both teacher and student were pretty tired this a.m. for some reason! But still we accomplished things, managed to be movers and shakers in the world of academics :) Well, sort of...
Anyway... then lunch at a Mexican restaurant -our Spanish lesson for the day... (Can you say Enchilada?? Oui!! Um... Si!!!)
After that a neat afternoon sorting through things for a huge garage sale... (Come to Healing Waters on Saturday - I can just about guarantee that you'll find a bargain there and the money goes for a good cause!) At any rate, my friends sorted through donated things while I mostly talked so, of course, I had a blast... Then home to do some housework, a little cooking - as little as possible actually... And then internet Scrabble, complete with trash talking and breathlessly risky moves on the board... (Well, I think we were pretty daring, risking it all a time or two on some iffey words... I mean, come on! The game is not as tame as it looks:)
But, seriously, the thing I treasure most about this day (and most days) is just being with my friends, on-line and off.
They inspire me. I'm not exaggerating - I don't have a single close friend who doesn't encourage me by their example and I could write about each and every one of them right now and you would see what I mean. When I am around these ladies, they egg me on to "faith it" a little more, whine a little less, and also to ramp up my love for Jesus, who loved me first. They encourage me when I'm down and tease me when I'm too self-absorbed, which is often:) I am blessed!
Tonight I want to highlight one friend, however. A woman who is in a wheel chair and has been for some time. She has a progressive neuromuscular disease but it doesn't define her. Almost everything I take for granted, she has to think twice about and often has to have help to accomplish the simplest things.
But she never quits.
I mean.. she never quits!
The first time we met face to face, she had a book for me and I had a necklace for her. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be able to unwrap the necklace and/or lift it up and place it around her neck by herself. So what does she do? She learns to play the dulcimer... Ha! She blogs and manages to keep them short as well as to the point. (I really don't know how she does that... obviously) And when I am "around" her, she brightens my day... She has a sharp wit and is a serious Scrabble player :) She makes me think and makes me laugh, challenging me in every area of my life.
Yet it's true that she also has to work for every single breath and because her lungs are weak, her voice seldom rises above a whisper. So when I'm at her house, I lean forward because I don't want to miss her pithy punchlines! Seriously! And when she blogs, I lean forward mentally because I know I'll learn from her about God, about how to "do" life when life, at times, seems simply un-doable.
She was told years ago that she should have a feeding tube put in. She did the research and decided she would live without one. And she has.
Some time ago, she was told that she would have to go on Hospice. She thought about it, prayed about it, and decided she would get better, confound the doctors, and live a while longer, thank you very much. And she has.
She would be the first to tell you that God has helped her every step of the way and that the road has not been easy but that it has been worthwhile.
Tonight I'll undress myself, climb into bed and probably toss and turn a bit before drifting off. Angie can't do that, not any of it. Once she's been positioned in bed, she's there for the duration, until morning comes.
But I don't think there is any way that her spirit can be confined.
Someday I'll get to walk with my friend.
For right now, honestly, I'd just be happy if I could keep up! You may think I'm kidding but I'm not:)
If you want to get to know Angie and find out for yourself what makes her tick, check out her blog: http://angiesthatsthat.blogspot.com/ You'll be glad you did, I promise.
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