We Get It

I love movies with surprise endings. The kind where you think one thing throughout the film, and then at the very end you realize, something very different was going on all along. You know the ones I mean. Movies like “The Sixth Sense,” “A Beautiful Mind,” and “The Prestige.”  You can’t just watch a movie like that once. You have to go back and figure out what you missed the first time around. “Oh, I get it,” you hear yourself say, as the light bulbs go on one by one.

I often think about Jesus’ disciples and how they just didn’t get it, especially during Holy Week. So much went on that they did not understand. So much happened that caused them anger, fear, and sorrow.

They watched helplessly as their friend Jesus was captured, forcibly tortured, and brutally killed. They tried to fight it. They ran away. They cried. They hid. It looked as if all their hopes had been dashed. They were in despair.

But they didn’t know what was really going on. What looked to their eyes  like defeat was really a victory.

It took awhile for them to put all the pieces together. Even when they heard Jesus had risen they didn’t believe it right away. They were still hiding; afraid the Romans would come and do to them what they had done to Jesus.

But little by little they went back over the events in their minds. They recalled the things Jesus had told them. And with the help of the Holy Spirit (especially at Pentecost) they began to see what really happened.

Jesus wasn’t captured. He had gone willingly.

Jesus wasn’t forced to do anything. It was his purpose all along.

Jesus wasn’t killed. He gave up his life. For them. For us. For the entire world!

As Holy Week begins we all have the opportunity to go back and see it all unfold again with new understanding.

We watch as Jesus rides into Jerusalem, not on a noble stallion, but on a little donkey. We understand his humility.

We smell the perfume poured on his feet, and it dawns on us. Jesus let his body be anointed with oil before his death, because he would rise before the women got there to do it Easter morning!

We feel Jesus’ tender hands wash our feet, and realize, he’s not just the best friend we will ever have, but God’s Son.  God’s Son washed our feet, and told us to wash each other's feet. Now we understand. It wasn’t about clean feet. It was about living a life of love.

We try to keep watch with him in the garden, but we’re too tired. If only we had known what he was about to do for us, we would have kept watch. But we didn’t know. We should have known. He told us over and over again. But we didn’t really believe it. We didn’t want to believe it.

When the soldiers come to take him we try to stop them. We pull out our sword and attack, but Jesus reaches out in love and heals the pain we inflicted. Why does he do that? How could his love be so strong? He even loves his enemies. What wondrous love is this?

We listen in anguish as the people cry, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Even though he’s tried by the Jewish leaders (Annas, Caiaphas, and the entire Sanhedrin) as well as the Roman leaders (Pilate and Herod Antipas, who just happens to be in town), his real sentence to death comes from the people. We hear their plea, “Let his blood be on us, and on our children,” and we realize their words are as profound as any we have heard this week. Yes! Let his blood be on us and our children!

 

We watch his suffering. Has there ever been suffering like this? Light is swallowed up by darkness. And still he suffers. It seems to last forever. And then suddenly he says, "It is finished," and dies. Just like that. We see it ourselves. We know. They did not take his life. He gave it.

He gave it for us. It was his plan all along. Now we get it. Now it all makes sense.

 And we want to go back and watch it over and over again.

Birthday Reflections

I learned in Bible class once that you could divide the life of Moses into 3 40-year parts. His first 40 years were spent in Egypt, the next 40 years he was a shepherd, and he spent his last 40 years with the Israelites wondering around in the desert.

It seems like my life can be divided up into thirds too. The first 20 years I was a kid. The next 20 was spent having and raising kids of my own. And now, as a 40-something grown-up, I'm enjoying life in a new way. I have the freedom to be and do pretty much anything my conscience, aging body, and pocketbook will allow.

The one who said, "Life begins at 40," wasn't kidding. This is a great time in my life. Not that the first 40 years weren't, but I'm finding a peace and contentment and, as Susan Ann likes to call it, an attitude of gratitude that has blessed and surprised me as I age. Growing old isn't such a bad thing. I think the older I get, the better I get. I don't say that to brag. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for lots of hard lessons learned along the way. I still have a lot to learn, (Proverbs 10:19, Proverbs 11:2, Micah 6:8 and Colossians 3:23 to name a few) but here's what I've figured out about life so far.

1. God is everything. (That's why He calls himself, "I AM.")
2. Everything happens for a reason.
3. Begin every day and every task with mediation on God’s Word and prayer, and all will be well.
4. Less is more.
5. The secret of contentment: Focus on the positive... what you have instead of what you wish you had; where you are instead of where you wish you were; who you are instead of who you wish you were.
6. Rejoice always! God loves you.

I feel like there should be 7, but I can't think of another one to put there. Maybe I will over the next 20 years. Or maybe one of you can add number 7!

And now, a few pictures…one from each of the phases of my life thus far...

1967
 (I'm the one on Dad's lap.)

1995

2011

Tough Questions

Several years ago I had a dream. I guess you could call it a nightmare.

You know how in some dreams, you know you’re dreaming, but in others, the dream seems real? Well, this was one of those real ones. In the dream, which I can only remember parts of now, I was going about life as usual, when some sudden calamity hit. I can’t recall if it was a bomb or a car crash, or just what, but I do remember an explosion and lots of flames. And I remember thinking quite logically, “There’s no way we can survive this. We’re going to die.”

Now keep in mind, I thought the dream was real. Even so, I wasn’t afraid. I knew that as a Christian, the next thing that comes after death is heaven. Soon all the weight of my sins would be lifted, and I would see God face to face. And so I waited for that to happen.

But it didn’t happen.

Nothing happened.

I woke up…horrified.

It wasn’t death that horrified me. It was that terrible realization that all I had been taught, all I had known, all I had confessed to believe… wasn’t true… or was it?

“It was just a dream,” I told myself over and over again. “It was just a dream.”

That was years ago, but I still remember the feeling (if not the dream) vividly, and what it showed me. There’s no way of knowing for sure what happens when you die. It remains one of life’s mysteries.

Not knowing what’s going to happen is sometimes fun, but in this case, it scared me. And I don’t like being scared. So, instead, I told myself to follow Jesus’ advice to Jairus in Luke 8:50. “Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

Fast forward to last Thursday. Jeff and I went to a new Bible Class offered at our church called “The Truth Project.” It’s actually a series of videos which cover such deep philosophical topics as “What is truth?” “Who is God?” “What is evil?” and so on. The host is Dr. Del Tackett. The topic of our first class was truth, and Dr. Tackett ended the class with this tough question:

Do you really believe that what you believe is really real?

I immediately thought about my nightmare, and how badly it upset me.

Do I really believe that what I believe is really real?

I think so, but sometimes, I have doubts.

I left the class wondering…

Do I believe enough?

A few days later I was looking over the handouts from our Bible Class. One sheet had a bunch of discussion questions on it. Numbers 1 -5 looked like things we had talked about in class, but number 6 was that same question popping up again, followed by another equally tough question:

6) Dr. Tackett asked the question, “Do you really believe that what you believe is really real?” How can we know we really believe?

I showed the handout to Jeff. “Read number 6,” I said to him.

Jeff read it. “Yes,” he said.

“What do you mean, ‘Yes?’” I asked him.

“Yes, I believe what I believe is really real,” he answered.

“What about the second part?” I asked him.

Jeff looked back down at the sheet, then back at me. “I say I believe, and I do, so it’s true.”

“Okay,” I said, not wanting to make a big issue out of it. Obviously he wasn’t reading the question right.

“How do you read the question?” Jeff asked, as if reading my mind.

I tried to explain it to him. “I think it’s asking how we can know it’s all true. And how we can know we really believe it.”

Jeff thought about it for just a moment. “I suppose you’ll know when you die.”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “That will answer both questions.”

This conversation didn’t help me much. I still wasn’t sure if I believed enough. There had to be some way to know for sure.

As I was doing the dinner dishes a song popped into my head… And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. Yes, they’ll know that we are Christians by our love. For a moment I wondered if that might be the answer. Maybe the way to know if I really believe is to see if I act like a believer. Do I love my fellow man? Do I try to keep God’s commandments?

Sure. I try. But I don’t always succeed.

Quickly, I realized this was not the answer to my problem. Believing that our faith is only real when we back it up with good works is a road that too easily leads to work righteousness. And that’s a dead end if there ever was one.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast. Ephesians 2:8, 9 (NIV)

So I knew that wasn’t right. But what was the answer? How would I know I believed enough?

It wasn’t until church that night that the answer finally came to me. Or rather, it wasn’t until church that night that I realized my tough question, “Do I believe enough?” was all wrong.

The sermon was based on Romans 8:28-30 (NIV):

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

As Pastor explained, these verses remind us that our being saved is not based on our will, our works, or even how much we believe in him- thank goodness! Faith comes through the working of God the Holy Spirit. He puts faith in our hearts. He nurtures it. He strengthens it. And he protects it.

So, how do I know it's true when I can't prove it?

I just do. Through faith I do.

Faith is the substance of things hope for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1 (KJV)

I know I believe because God has put that faith, that belief, in my heart. And it’s not a faith in me or my worthiness or understanding. It’s a faith in Jesus, my Savior, who once said:

“Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:29 (NIV)

That’s me.

Blessed.

Blessed with faith.

Blessed by the Holy Spirit to believe in spite of my sins, in spite of my weakness, in spite of my doubts.

Blessed because he loves me.

So then, just what did Dr. Tackett mean by the question, “Do you really believe that what you believe is really real?”

For the answer to that question, I went to our class facilitator, and asked him if the discussion questions came with an answer key. They did. I asked if I could see it. He let me.

What Dr. Tackett was trying to say is that if you really believe there’s a God who loves you and is all powerful, why do you worry? If you believe that God, the creator of all, loves you and wants the best for you, why don’t you pray to him earnestly and often? In short, he was saying what the song I thought of while doing dishes says, They will know that we are Christians by our love, which comes straight from what Jesus himself said in John 13:35 (NIV):

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

I agree with Dr. Tackett, that a person ought to live a life consistent with the truths he or she believes, but I wonder how many may have heard him ask that question and misinterpreted it as I did, asking themselves, "Do I believe it enough?"

I hope not many.

But for those who did, I hope they ended up concluding as I finally did, our faith is a gift. And that gift is all sufficient, as it says in 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV).

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.

Gifts From Above

Recently, I had one of those days when everything seemed to be going right. I wish I could list off all the little miracles that went on that day, but the only one I remember is hopping in the car and hearing one of my favorite songs on the radio. Without giving it much thought, I said this little prayer. “God, why are you being so nice to me?”

Immediately I heard this reply, “Because you’re letting me.”

I think that’s actually a quote from The Breakfast Club, but if you remember the story of Jesus when he visited his home town of Nazareth you know that Jesus couldn’t always be nice to his people. The Bible tells us, “he did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith.” (Matthew 13:58)

I think about that a lot. Jesus wanted to do nice things for them, but their lack of faith kept him from doing so. How sad. And how interesting.

It makes me wonder. Do I do that too? Do I limit what God can do in my own life, by not believing that he’s here with me? There are millions of people in this world, most of whom have a lot bigger problems and issues than I do. Why would God care about little old me?

But he does. Miracle of miracles, he does! Believing that, helps me see it.

Walking across icy sidewalks without slipping - that’s the hand of God. Bumping into an old friend. - God knows when a visit like that is needed. Finding just what you need at the store, and it’s on sale! God always provides. Finding your cell phone even though it was set on vibrate, having a freezer so full of food things fall out when you open the door, driving home under a pretty sunset… these are all gifts from God.

In James we’re told, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.” (James 1:17) Just think about that. The Father of all creation, who made the stars in the sky and everything else, knows about us and cares about us. That’s such a mind-blowing idea, we’d never be able to believe it without faith. But God gives that to us too.

People put a lot of thought, effort, time and money this time of year into trying to come up with the perfect gifts for the ones they love. You’ve been there. I have too, and it’s hard. Most of the time our gifts come up short. But not God’s gifts. He knows just what we need and can well provide it.

So enjoy his gifts! Look for them. And when you see them, give thanks for them. Know, through faith, that they come from him. Indeed, Faith in him is the best gift you’ll ever receive. Treasure it. Nurture it. Enjoy it.

Speaking of enjoying things, here’s another video for you. I loved it. I hope you will too.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Surprise "Hallelujah!"

An Artificial Christmas

We put up our tree yesterday. I know that seems early, but I love Christmas so I don’t mind starting early. Besides, it’s an artificial tree so we don’t have to worry about the needles falling off.

We used to get real trees up until that fateful Christmas when Jeff said no more. The events that led up to that decision are not pleasant to recall, but they sure make for a great story (to those who weren’t there). I wrote about it in an article printed in the December 2003 issue of Forward in Christ magazine. I reprint it here to both entertain and warn you of the dangers of “An Artificial Christmas.”

I’ve always thought of myself as a real person, down to earth, what you see is what you get. I’m definitely turned off by artificiality. No silk flowers or plastic fruit for me. And I would never have considered putting up an artificial Christmas tree – at least not until five years ago.

What happened that December is not something I’m proud of. What should have been a simple trip to pick up the Christmas tree turned into a much-needed reality check.

It all began in August 1998 when my husband, our four kids, and I moved from a run-down starter home to a large modern home on the other side of town.

As we proudly showed off our new house, the question often came up: “Where are you going to put your Christmas tree?”

The previous owners, who happened to be close friends of ours, had the most awesome Christmas trees. Each year a specially ordered 10-foot fir was delivered to their home. It was so tall it had to be anchored with fishing line from the second story balcony.

“I’m thinking of putting ours there,” I’d reply, pointing to the other side of the room. “In front of the window.”

Yes. I had thought about it. I had thought about it a lot. We would get a Scotch Pine, not a spindly fir, a true green tree. We’d fill it with colored lights and put it right up to the window for all the neighbors to see. It wouldn’t be just like our friends’ old Christmas tree. It would be better!

Finally, December arrived. I chose a warm and sunny Saturday for the task. My husband, being the neat freak he is, insisted I bring along some old blankets to lay in the back of the van. He also helped me remove the back seat, before warning the kids one last time not to step in any mud puddles.

The trip to our local tree farm was as pleasant as always. We sang Christmas carols and enjoyed the scenery as we drove along. As soon as we stepped out of the van we were greeted by the unmistakable smell of pine. “Come on, kids!” I called. “Let’s go pick a tree.”

I must have looked at every tree they had, both in the warehouse and out in the fields, before I found the one I wanted. It was an eight-foot Scotch pine, perfectly shaped, and fuller than any other Christmas tree I had ever seen. It stood out in the middle of a field of pines, where it had grown year after year, just waiting for me to come along and call it my own. I knelt down on the soggy ground and began sawing with great enthusiasm.

That lasted about one minute.

It wasn’t until I had already cut into the bark that I noticed the incredible width of the trunk. This was going to take a while.

Meanwhile, the kids wandered here and there, their shoes getting more and more caked with mud. When my oldest boy asked if he could give it a try, I was only too happy to take a break. As I watched my son struggle with the chore, I realized it was time to seek help. I went to the office and returned with a large man carrying a heavy chain saw. Now we’d get moving!

One yank on the starter chain and a swipe later, my beautiful tree fell to the ground. “Don’t let it get muddy,” I cried, picturing my husband’s face when he saw what I intended to bring into our living room.

I’m not sure how the enormous tree and my four kids all fit into the van, but they did. As we made our way home I tried to focus on the positive. “Didn’t we get a nice tree?” I said cheerfully.

“I’m smooshed,” my daughter whined.

“We’ll be home in five minutes,” I told her, but I was feeling a little uncomfortable myself. I couldn’t help but wonder what my husband would say when we got home. I soon found out.

He took one look at our mud-caked shoes, another at the soiled interior of the van, and announced, “We’re not putting up that tree until I get this mess cleaned up.”

For the next five hours my husband only glared at me, as he scrubbed every inch of our vehicle with frightening resolve. It was dark before he got out the tree stand and called me to the garage.

By this time I had gone through every emotion, from frustration to anger to shame. I comforted myself with the belief that once he saw that beautiful tree standing in the front window he would appreciate, or at least tolerate, all the fuss and bother I had caused.

My husband took the tree by the limbs and told me to grab the trunk. I couldn’t believe the size of it. Together we lugged the monster around to the front door. Then the worst thing happened. We lifted the tree up the front steps into the doorway, where it became jammed. It didn’t fit.

I was about to cry. My husband grabbed the top of the tree and yanked it back outside. Needles flew everywhere. A minute later I heard the anguished sound of a saw coming from the garage. There went my beautiful Christmas tree.

It took several trimmings before the tree was small enough to get through the door and the trunk was small enough to fit into our tree stand. At least half of the tree ended up on the garage floor.

That evening as I hung the lights on our pretty four-and-a-half foot tree I realized how artificial I had been. I didn’t pick this tree to celebrate our Savior’s birth. I picked it to show off. I wanted to impress our friends and neighbors with the perfect Christmas tree.

But, the real truth is, it was our imperfection that caused God the Father to send us his Son. It is his perfection I should have been focusing on: the perfect love God displayed in giving us his Son to be our Savior from sin.

The following year we decided to buy an artificial tree. It has the words “Made in China” on the box. Assembly is quite simple. It involves matching the color-coded branches to their appropriate slots.

It has taken me a while, but I can honestly say I love our funny-looking plastic tree. It’s not much of a status symbol, but it never should have been in the first place. I now see our Christmas tree as both a reminder of the dangers of artificiality and also as a symbol of God’s love: perfect, beautiful, and totally real.

Happy decorating!