Remembering 9/11 My Way

I am going to risk being chastised or criticized for this, but it’s the same feeling I have every year when 9/11 rolls around.  To be more specific, I don’t want to remember that day the way others want me to remember.

I say this, not because I am callous, cold, or have no compassion.  I vividly remember what I was doing and the heart and gut wrenching horror that swept over me as I watched the attack on our nation that fateful day.  And I will never forget the images and the grief so many suffered, nor the fear of what may come next.  Never.

I say this because I see in this generation an unhealthy need to tightly hold onto tragedy that occurs in our lives.  We are told that the only way to recover from it is to be constantly reminded, to seek help from secular “experts” who they say are the only ones equipped to help us deal with it in order to move on.  The Sunday after the attack upon the Twin Towers saw multitudes of people filling the pews and crying out to God for answers.  Horror consumed them and fear drove them there.  But it wasn’t long before those churches were once again back to their half-empty status as the memory of the terrible images grew dimmer.

The truth that it is best to always remember how and why certain things occur should never be questioned.  It is required of us so that we know how best to prevent it from happening again.  President Bush demonstrated courage and strength during the days, months, and years that followed, taking necessary steps to insure us that our nation was secure.  However, there are always those who “never let a good crisis go to waste” and use it to further their own goals and agendas.  If it can be used to advance them, they will say and do whatever benefits them the most to get there, even if it means lying to gain it.  And the results that followed have further divided our nation, instead of drawing us closer in unity.  I believe that the years following 9/11 have created a weaker, more fearful, and dependent generation, one that will never be able to overcome the adversities that were thrust upon us by terrorists bent upon our destruction.  It is a generation unable to heal and move on because we aren't allowed to.

I am old enough to remember family members who served in World War II and the Korean War and the stories they brought home with them.  They saw atrocities and suffered injuries I am positive they never forgot:  Pearl Harbor, the South Pacific, Normandy, to name just a few.  But there was a profound resolve in their makeup.  There was strength of character we so seldom see in this generation.  These men came home and put behind them the battles and the wounded and the dead.  Certainly, they never forgot, but they went on to lead peaceful and productive lives without the stigma of constant reminders.  Noted battles, defeats, and victories have been memorialized that we rightfully honor each year, and I am sure they relived in their own mind the role in which they took part.  But they seemed better able to handle the nightmares of war, not allowing their thoughts to consume and paralyze them when the images were recalled.

The final victory that our veterans shared in, and the rejoicing of a nation as they came home, overshadowed all that occurred to obtain it.  They carried that banner with them proudly throughout their lives and a grateful nation has continued to honor them for their selfless bravery.   And as we remember 9/11, we also honor those who gave their own lives to save another as the Twin Towers crumbled and crashed to the ground, the plane flew into the Pentagon, and United Airlines Flight 93 plowed a trench into a Pennsylvania field.  But it’s how Americans remember that troubles me the most, and what we must endure to be prodded to remember and begs the question whether or not we have truly healed and moved on.

I don’t want to watch it all happen again.  Those images have been burned into my memory in living color and, sadly, will always remain there.  When I think of the families that watched as loved ones leaped from the towers, or were buried in the rubble and twisted metal, I wouldn’t want to be reminded.  But each year, the news media plays and replays the gruesome scenes over and over again and refreshes the horror and grief Americans experienced when they watched it the first time, encouraging them to recall where they were and what they were doing when it happened.  I know where I was and what I was doing.  But it seems that Americans have made a game out of telling their story in an attempt to out-best each other in the details.  I shared my story once, and once was enough.

Have we healed and moved on?

I don’t want to watch the building of a memorial to the tragedy, one that has taken eleven years of bickering and fighting over every detail of it by politicians, including the myriad number of non-profits whose altruism or realization of a good thing is what compels many of them.  They have each attempted to force their own opinions as to how it should be built; from what it should look like to who it should honor.  Eleven long years and a lot of pockets have been filled with incomplete results.  And all the while, we are being reminded.

Have we healed and moved on?

I cringe every time I see the steel girders that fell amongst the rubble in the shape of a cross and the fervor over the possible implications, what it may have represented, and the battle over whether or not to give it a permanent home in the museum because it may offend someone.  I shuddered when I saw the klieg lights being pointed into the night sky over the gaping hole in the ground before the new tower started to rise.  God was present during all that terror.  There is no questioning that truth.  But the irony is that man will look for a symbol or an idol to worship instead of looking to Him for solace and peace.  Remember: shortly after 9/11, the pews are once again half-empty.  Yet man will erect a monument and place a piece of broken, twisted metal for all eyes to worship, rather than return to that empty seat where he can truly learn about and find the God who allowed this to happen.

Have we healed and moved on?

I am embarrassed and ashamed that our President refuses to define the men who planned and committed the 9/11 attack upon our nation.   In each preceding war this nation has fought, we have always clearly known who our enemy was and where to find him, even if it meant hunting him down on his own soil.  Our foes felt the full wrath of our military might and the world knew that America was not to be messed with.  Not so in our current state of affairs.  We are told that tolerance and persuasion is the best method of dealing with our enemies…even at the cost of 3,000 lives.  We must first gain the approval of the United Nations before we can defend ourselves.  We can be angry, just not too angry. 

Have we healed and moved on?

The battle cry to bring to justice those who perpetrated this atrocity rang loud and clear across our nation.  A call to arms was given, the trumpet call to battle was heard, and revenge for the lost was sought.  But after eleven years, there has been no victory.  Politicians began repositioning themselves when it was discovered that Suddam Hussein had conveniently moved his weapons of mass destruction across the border.  Those who supported President Bush and voted to wage war quickly turned on him to protect themselves and their cushy jobs. Their hypocrisy was and is astounding.  Yet, our current President arrogantly claims victory in Iraq and promises to pull our troops from Afghanistan - all for political expediency and with the full support of the turncoats that first supported President Bush.  But I am forced to ask the bodies that continue to come home if they feel the same way.  Or the hundreds of thousands of Christians who have fled Iraq in the face of persecution and for fear of their lives.  I am reminded of Viet Nam and the withdrawal before victory was won from that seemingly endless war.  Millions of their citizens were slaughtered following our military’s departure, and the world quietly put it behind them.

Have we healed and moved on?

By now you have probably settled in your mind that I am that cold, callous, and uncompassionate person I denied being in the beginning of this post.  If you have decided that, there’s no need for me to continue defending myself.  But I would like to encourage everyone to consider the reliving and reviewing of images, voices, and stories that we must endure each September 11th.  Maybe I’m a little more determined than some.  Perhaps I have been given the ability to remember with a little more resolve and fortitude, like my uncles who served in prior battles.

I want to see America heal and move on.  I want parents to teach their children the value and importance of living in so great a nation; teaching them to be courageous and strong when adversity strikes and how to cope when tragedy comes.  We live in a nation of proud history.  Conflict never caused our forefathers to waver or tremble in fear and apprehension of what may come next.  They suffered the battles, chronicled their victories and defeats, buried their warriors with honor, and moved forward with great strength and dogged determination to make the United States of America the greatest nation on the face of this earth.  And in my eyes, she still is.

I will pause and remember the terror of 9/11.  But I won’t watch the hours and hours of images and recordings of the voices of the victims being endlessly replayed, or listen to the speeches given by politicians jostling for a photo opportunity.  I refuse to watch our hypocritical President tell his own story about where he was at the time of the attack and how it grieved him to see our nation suffer.  Nor will I get comfort from watching him place a wreathe at the memorial site.  I won’t retell my story to anyone or read the stories of others because I have healed and moved on.  And I want my beloved nation to also heal and move on.

I will remember 9/11 my way:  with quiet honor for the dead and prayer for God’s continued protection upon this great nation He established for us.  May He always bless America and those with courage, strength, and character who stand in defense of her.

We Can Jump Together

As the weekend approaches, I am certain that at some point we will all be at Dierke’s Lake cooling off.  Thinking about going fills me with joy, simply because of the time it means our family gets to spend together.

Last weekend we went as well.  One of the things my kids (and my husband for that matter) love to do is jump the cliffs.  They climb the stoney paths to the top, contemplate their strategy, and then go for it!  They all seem to do it with such grace and ease.  Fear, of any kind, does not seem to be an issue.  Is it because of their youth?  Or is it simply just not that big of a deal?  After all, what’s the worst that could happen?  A belly-flop?  Nothing a few minutes on the dock wouldn’t cure.

While watching them jump over and over again, I found it to look like so much fun.  It truly isn’t that far of a fall, and when they hit the water and rise back up, they seem so exhilarated.  That’s it!  I want to do it!

Brent and I were sitting on the dock watching them when I turned to him and said, “I want to jump!”  Now to most people, this may not seem like any big deal, but to me, it was HUGE!  You see, I don’t even like step stools.  And a full size ladder?  Forget it!  I’m deathly terrified of heights!  So for me to actually want to jump was almost unbelievable.  Brent was excited for me though and jumped up, taking my hand, and off we went to walk the trail.

From the bottom it didn’t really seem that high, but from the top……. well, I might as well have been atop the Eiffel Tower!  My heart began to pound, my breathing became shallow, and I felt lightheaded.  Shoot, if I didn’t jump I was probably going to pass out and fall anyway!  Brent gently talked to me and took my hand again.  “I’ll hold your hand and we can jump together” he lovingly said.  Love doesn’t get much sweeter than that!  My kids were just as sweet.  They stood beside us, gently prodding me to jump, but understanding my fear.  For what seemed like an hour my toes gripped the rock I was standing on and my family patiently waited. 

But I didn’t jump.  I finally had to apologize, take the walk of shame back down the path and go back to the dock. 

I felt so sad and discouraged.  I really wanted to do this!  How could I be so afraid?  I’ve given birth….. twice…… and I can’t jump off a stupid rock?  Geesh! 

Then this morning, as I was spending my usual time praying and reading my Bible, it struck me….Steven Curtis Chapman’s song, “Diving In”…………“I’m diving in, I’m going deep, in over my head I wanna be. Caught in the rush, lost in the flow, in over my head I wanna go.  The river’s deep, the river’s wide, the river’s water is alive.  So sink or swim, I’m diving in!” 

And suddenly I began to compare my fear of jumping off that cliff into the water below, to the same fear I had before becoming a believer.  Not yet saved, I could still sin, right?  It was okay because I hadn’t committed my life to Christ yet, therefore I didn’t have to answer for my selfish fulfillment of all my desires.  I could just live life the way I wanted to and never have to fear condemnation for it.  Well, at least that’s what my unsaved heart was telling me.  But once I jumped off Satan’s cliff and into the arms of Jesus, life was going to suck!  I was going to have to stop drinking and partying and living the “good life”.  It was going to be all about prayer and reading the Bible and having to answer for everything I did wrong.  It sounded awful, and boring, and scary.  Almost  as scary as that dang ladder.  I shut out God’s call for me over and over  again, in fear.  I had no idea what giving my life to Christ was going to mean for me, just like I had no idea what jumping off that cliff was going to feel like, and I wasn’t going to do it! 

And then one day, as I lay on the family room floor, curled up in a ball, crying uncontrollably at the mess my life was in, Jesus gently came to me with an outstretched arm and said,  “Ill hold your hand and we can jump together.” 

My life has never been the same since.  Praise be to God, never again have I ever been as fearful as before I took His hand….. and jumped!

 We’ll be back at Dierke’s tomorrow…………..and this time, I’m diving in!!!





(This was written by my dear friend and sister in Christ, Leslie Blaser.  I would like to see more from her, wouldn't you?)

Stand Still

(I would like to dedicate this to my dear and long-time friend and sister in Christ, "Lester."  Even if we're standing still, it's good to have a loved one by our side.  Stand still with me, Lester, and one day He'll show us the way forward.)

When we're thrown curve balls by the world, our first instinct is to move.  We feel driven to do something; to take action, to rush into a defensive posture to protect ourselves.  To do nothing seems foolish and would only compound the problem, so we drive ourselves looking for solutions to the point of emotional and spiritual exhaustion.

Recently, I was thrown such a curve ball.  I felt like the Israelites standing on the shore of the Red Sea with their enemies approaching their rear, ready to drive them into the briny deep and to at last be rid of them.  My first instinct was to rush into the frothy, turbulent waves and attempt to swim to safety.  But I knew it would be a fool's errand.  The breadth of the sea was too wide.  The depth of its dark waters too deep.  The fierceness with which the tide surged too great.  I looked to the left and to the right but only saw an endless shoreline that guaranteed me nothing but more pursuit by the enemy.  So I stood trembling on the shore, hearing the roar of the approaching enemy, and cried out to my God.

"Stand still," He whispered.

But my mind raced with thoughts of why, why, why...how...where...what.

"Stand still," He said again and I heard His voice.

His presence enveloped me in gentle waves of peace, unburdening me of what the next day would bring.

And I obeyed.

When I finally stood still, I realized that I had been trying to accomplish things on my own using my own power.  Like the Jewish tribes that stood on the banks of the sea, I only heard the voice of my enemy and my own.  Salvation lay beyond the sea, but my thoughts were centered on the rough grains of sand beneath my feet and the thundering approach of indecision, doubt, anxiety, and, yes, unbelief.

The following devotion by Charles H. Spurgeon has carried me the last few weeks.  I awoke this morning with troubling thoughts about how the next year would play out.  Before rising, I tossed and turned and prayed and pleaded.  Uncertainty and worry, which have always been poor traits of mine, clung to my mind with fierceness and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't dispel them

Then I heard in the center of my heart His words once again:

"Stand still."

And this time, He told me to watch how great and how long is His arm.

"Stand still with Me.  Watch with Me.  Wait with Me.  I 'will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.' "

Yes, oh yes, LORD!  I will!

"And Moses said to the people, 'Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which He will work for you today.' " ~ Exodus 14:13a

"These words contain God's command to the believer when he is reduced to great straits and brought into extraordinary difficulties.  He cannot retreat; he cannot go forward; he is shut up on the right hand and on the left; what is he now to do?

"The Master's word to him is, 'Stand still.'  It will be well for him if at such times he listens only to his Master's word, for other and evil advisers come with their suggestions:

"Despair whispers, 'Lie down and die; give it all up.'  But God would have us put on a cheerful courage, and even in our worst times, rejoice in His love and faithfulness.

"Cowardice says, 'Retreat; go back to the worldling's way of action; you cannot play the Christian's part, it is too difficult.  Relinquish your principles.'

"But, however much Satan may urge this course upon you, you cannot follow it if you are a child of God.  His divine fiat has bid thee go from strength to strength, and so thou shalt, and neither death nor hell shall turn thee from thy course.

"What if, for a while, thou art called to stand still, yet this is but to renew thy strength for some greater advance in due time?  Precipitancy cries, 'Do something!  Stir yourself; to stand still and wait is sheer idleness.'  We must be doing something at once - we must do it so we think, instead of looking to the LORD, who will not only do something but will do everything.

"Presumption boasts, 'If the sea be before you, march into it and expect a miracle.'  But Faith listens neither to Presumption, nor to Despair, nor to Cowardice, nor to Precipitancy, but it hears God say, 'STAND STILL,' and immovable as a rock it stands.

" 'STAND STILL;' - keep the posture of an upright man, ready for action, expecting further orders, cheerfully and patiently awaiting the directing voice; and it will not be long ere God shall say to you, as distinctly as Moses said it to the people of Israel...

" 'GO FORWARD.' "

Kindle the Fire of Your Reading List

I was given a basic Kindle as a gift a while back.  I'm not one who is into all the new techno-gadgets that flood the marketplace.  There are far too many of them and once you buy the latest, greatest innovation, it becomes obsolete and out-dated minutes after you purchase it.  We've all felt the sting of that marketing ploy with the purchase of a computer that is touted as the best on the market, only to discover that the store you bought it at is only trying to clear the shelves for the next latest, greatest computer waiting in the storeroom to be revealed to the world of suckers flooding through their door.

Cell phones are another burr under my proverbial saddle.  IPhones, IPads, Blue Ray, texting, photo and video-taking, I-can't-live-without-it, doodads are glued to the ears and hands of everyone I know.  A plethora of applications are downloaded onto them to amuse, entertain, compel, and rob their users of the old-fashioned method of communication: eye-to-eye contact and time spent actually speaking to the person in front of them.  I saw a joke a while back (which I considered to be more truth than humor) about there being an application for that, as well.  When you have someone before you wanting to carry on a conversation with you, turn off the offensive thing.

Sorry.  I'm wandering.  Back to the topic at hand.

Although I prefer to hold a bound book in my hand and leaf through its pages, enjoying the feel and smell of the word-filled paper, and relishing the ease with which I can refer back to a particular chapter or page, I have enjoyed the Kindle.  If owning it has changed anything, my overstuffed book cupboard is no longer cluttered with piles of already read books of which I refuse to rid myself.  And Amazon is constantly adding new editions to their growing list of e-books, giving us a wide variety of authors and genres.  I probably would have not purchased a Kindle on my own, but I am glad that I have it.  Mainly because I like to read in bed and the light has always bothered my husband.

After receiving the Kindle, I discovered the inexpensive and free books Amazon has made available to us and downloaded a few free classics.  Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, Uncle Tom's Cabin, and others have renewed my appreciation for good literature.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that re-reading them has made me realize how much bad literature is in today's market.  It's no wonder that the English language has devolved to the degree it has.  Modern attempts at well-written prose is feeble, at best, and it's a rare occasion that one finds a well-structured story line that's worthy of the time it takes to read it; not to mention the evidence of poor grammar, sentence structure, deplorable punctuation, bad editing, and the inability to convey the plot or purpose to its conclusion.  In short, I highly recommend to all my friends a return to a time when the ability to write a good book was the norm, rather than the exception.

My Kindle has a second, but more important, purpose.  I am fast filling it with Christian apologetics, devotions, and studies from both past and current theologians who were and are devoted to preaching and teaching the truth of God.  I begin and end my day reading the words of Charles H. Spurgeon, the "prince of preachers," whose ministry spanned the early to mid-1800's.  For less than $1.00, I was able to download a collection of six volumes of his work.  These types of books are often put into digital format by groups of volunteers, thus the poor application of punctuation can sometimes throw off phrasing.  But if you are one who understands the correct usage of punctuation, reading becomes easier as you skim over the errors without thinking about them.

One of the books contained in the collection is called "Morning and Evening, Daily Reading."  It contains short morning and evening devotions upon which to meditate and Spurgeon has yet to disappoint me in his application of spiritual content.   The richness with which he communicates Scripture and applies it to our lives and our walk with God feeds the hunger and thirst I have for His Word.  He once said in "Comments and Commentaries," another book in the collection that is taken from his keynote speaker address before a pastoral conference, that he wouldn't walk across the street to hear himself preach (humbleness at its best).  But I beg to differ with Mr. Spurgeon.  I also own a hard-bound 10-volume collection of his sermons that took me over a year to read, and our churches could use more like him.  If you're interested in obtaining this collection for your Kindle, search for "Christian Classics: Six Books by Charles H. Spurgeon."  It will be a dollar well spent.

However, I'm not limited to the church fathers and reformers.  I occasionally enjoy a good Christian fiction, but I advise caution when choosing them.  This post-modern, ecumenical, progressive atmosphere the church is finding itself in has also bookwormed its way into literature.  Amazon graciously will allow you a sampling of the book prior to purchase and I highly encourage everyone to take them at their offer.  Claims of Christian content, titles and synopses can be deceiving.  Don't waste your money, your time, or potentially damage your spirituality by purchasing a book you later find to be full of poor doctrine, or worse, heresy and apostasy.

The only book I'm having trouble deciding to add to my Kindle is a Bible.  I can see some usefulness by having one there and I know the translation I would prefer.  But as is sometimes the case with Kindles, it's frustrating to "thumb" through the pages and find that passage you need.  As it is with my old-fashioned preference of holding a book in my hands, I desire that this Book is cradled there, as well.  There's something about feeling the heaviness of it in my hands and the weight of the words contained within it.  I have become so familiar with its pages that my fingers are adept at locating the verse or passage I desire to read, exerting no more effort than raising my right hand and placing it close to, if not on, the exact spot.  If I do download a Bible, I'm sure that there would be an overabundance of bookmarks and highlights on my Kindle version - if my Kindle would even allow such a number (I've discovered that some e-book publishers have a set number of highlights that can be made).

Whether you own a Kindle, or not, and simply love to read, kindle the fire of your reading list.  Don't limit your reading enjoyment to one genre, or pointless, inane manuscripts that only entertain without purpose, or worse, conjure an unhealthy imagination.  Add to your "collections" those books that are edifying, those that feed your soul, and reject those that turn you away from Godliness.  Choose your authors wisely and the content of your book with discretion, but mix it up for your reading pleasure.

It's been said that everyone has a story to tell and many have attempted to tell it in book form.  Not all have succeeded and only a few have been lauded in history as the greatest story tellers.  But good literature, whether fiction or non-fiction, is available if one is diligent in his search for it.  My latest purchase?  The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson.  I'm confident it will be another $1.00 well spent.

Somewhere on the horizon are pages filled with words waiting to be read that will enliven your imagination, fill you with adventure and intrigue, take you on journeys untold, and nourish your relationship with God.

All you have to do is turn the page.

Thanks for the Kindle, Mom.

 

Who Erased the Chalkboard?

I'm in a funk.

As you can see from the date of the last post, it's been six weeks since I added anything to the blog - and it was something I had written three years ago!

I'm definitely in a funk.

There used to be a time when my mind was overloaded with topics to write about.  Even if I had nothing to say, when I sat down at my computer the words always came.  But for the last couple of months, I feel as though a giant eraser wiped away all the ideas I had stored in my mind for future posts and has left me with only chalk dust where words used to be.  If I squint my eyes really close, I can almost see the white impressions of words on the black surface.  I said, almost.

So, who erased the chalkboard?  I could blame someone else, or other things that have put me in this funk.  But I know that would be a lie.  There's only one person to blame...

Me.  I erased the chalkboard.

The question that has been plaguing me for the last month is this:  do I assume that all I have been given to say has been said?  And if I do, do I delete this blog and concentrate all my energy (what energy I have left, that is) on the other blog I administer for a missionary in Malawi, Africa?

I have come up with all kinds of excuses for doing just that, and they really are pretty lame.  Such as:  what have I really got to say, anyway?;  there are others more learned and more eloquent than I am;  my readers are few and far between and rarely, if ever, leave a note to let me know they've been here;  my word-well has gone dry...to name a pathetic few.

When I went back over that list of excuses, I realized that I had my hand on the doorknob to a pity party, a place that I would venture to say most bloggers go when they reach this point of vacancy.  I often visit others' blogs who have come here to see what they're all about, and take note that the last thing they posted had a two or three year "past pull" date on them.  But the thing that strikes me most is that they haven't given up.  They may not be writing new posts, but they are still there and they are searching the blogosphere for inspiration; or perhaps for that fleeting glimpse into a place unknown to them at the time, but waiting for them to take a brief journey there, hoping to find whatever it is that has caused the void in their lives.

As I pondered the option of deleting this blog, other questions kept rising to the surface:  what if God still has more for me to say and that I'm too willing to just give up?  What if this brief lull in inspiration is only a time-out for my over-taxed brain and grieving heart over the world's antics; preparing me to once again sit down at the breakfast table and grab my old notebook (the paper kind I used to use), pull out my pen, and let the Holy Spirit pour words onto the pages?  What if that lone visitor He's been preparing drops by and spends a few moments reading what's here on this blog and discovers that special Someone who can fill that void in his or her life?

It's certainly something to consider while I'm in this funk.

Maybe I ought to squint my eyes a little tighter and see what's still slightly visible on my chalkboard.  I haven't yet taken a wet rag to it and there are still outlines and images of words  that are hovering there to share with those who stumble onto this blog.

I think I'll stick around a little longer.  You never know.  The worst that can happen is that I'll find myself encouraging empty space and air.  But the best that can happen is if what's written here is meant to stay on the board and bless a wanderer who drops in.

If that happens, then every agonizing moment of frustration over being wordless will have been worth it.

And God will have all the glory.

See you next time.

Fear Not

(Editor's note:  Originally published in 2009)

“So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” Matthew 10:26-30 (NIV)

My maternal grandmother, Hattie Eddy, used to say, “They can kill ya, but they can’t eat ya.” Now, a statement such as this conjured up somewhat disturbing images in my young and impressionable mind, even though it was said with a twinkle in her eye and was intended to calm me over some turmoil in my life. It was Grandma’s way of saying, “Don’t be troubled over what the world dishes out. It can’t hurt you.” Looking back, I can now see that the world made her life miserable at times. She raised nine children during the Depression, had lost a daughter in a drowning accident and a few in childbirth, and the lack of money brought burdens she couldn’t control. Yet, she never failed to have a smile on her face, a laugh in her eyes, and a warm embrace for her beloved family. The world may have attempted to “kill” her, but she knew that it couldn’t consume her heart and soul that God had lovingly prepared for the life she endured.

We’ve all been afraid at one time or another. The world charges in and exerts its influence, causing our hearts to falter in our attempts to bear what it brings. If we allow it to overcome us, we panic and become desperate, often conforming to its demands just to make life easier. Our fears prevent us from taking that step of faith, from giving the Gospel to the lost, and putting aside our own comforts to help those less fortunate. All too often, we forget the words that Jesus told His disciples in preparation for what would come. We fail to remember how precious and dear we are to Him, how much more valued we are, and of our “worth” in His sight.

It is hard to imagine that we do have “worth”. In our fallen and sinful state, our disobedience and rejection of Jesus, it still amazes me that God would find any value in us. However, I am reminded by Charles H. Spurgeon that God loves us simply because He loves us. There is no other explanation. God is love: infinite, immutable, faithful, merciful, and unconditional. His reasons are solely His own and I dare not question His motive. Rather, I grab hold of it and cling to it as if He were my very lifeline, keeping me from drowning in a sea of sin and damnation. I embrace the knowledge that He loves me and is making me into what He would have me be out of a love purer than my imagination can summon forth; a love that whispers to me in the darkness and tells me not to fear, “For I will never leave you nor forsake you.” I will never fully understand His love for me until I stand before Him face-to-face and am completely enveloped in it for all eternity.

So, let the world bring what it may. Let it charge in, baring its teeth in an attempt to consume me. Let fear that rides in on the tides of life be washed back to the sea from whence it came. I will faithfully stand on the promise Jesus made to His disciples, and the one my Grandma gave me. The world may kill the body, but will never have the soul. It belongs to Him, and only Him and no other may have it.

“So do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)

Copyright 2006 Karen L. Brahs

Listen...

I am listening to the music of the rain.  As it falls from the gray skies that have enveloped my mountain valley, the patter of its drops fall from the roof onto the ground below.  The nourishment it brings is welcomed by the earth as it soaks deeply into the ground and replenishes the life-giving soil.

I won't complain about the chill in the air, the mud the dog brings in on her little feet, or the droplets she carries into the house on her back.  She smiles at me as she shakes them onto the floor as if to say, "You don't mind if I bring a little in with me, do you?", then makes her odd little circles over the top of her rug before curling into a smaller shape to warm her body.  I clean up any footprints or raindrop spatters that have reached the cabinets and smile back at her.  Today I don't mind.  I am listening to the rain.

The rain is my music.  Its melody is gentle and soothing, reminding me of the continuing providence the earth and its inhabitants faithfully receive.  In the days and weeks to come, there will be a different music played from the heavens.  It will be the music of sunshine and heat the summer will bring; of the occasional thunderstorm that perches atop the mountains surrounding my home, its booming bass drums and timpani echoing back and forth across the valley floor, the lightening flashing its brilliance like crashing cymbals bringing the symphony to its glorious conclusion.  The cadence of life passing by as in a dream will play upon my soul as I listen to the musical laughter of my grandchildren freed from the constraints of school and relishing the days of warmth and frolic.

There is much more music coming, but today, I am listening to the rain.  Verses begin to flood my mind, feeding my soul like the waters feed the earth.

“And if you will indeed obey my commandments that I command you today, to love the Lord your God, and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul, he will give the rain for your land in its season, the early rain and the later rain, that you may gather in your grain and your wine and your oil.   And he will give grass in your fields for your livestock, and you shall eat and be full."

Deut. 11:13-15

  “Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak,
    and let the earth hear the words of my mouth.  May my teaching drop as the rain,
    my speech distill as the dew,
like gentle rain upon the tender grass,
    and like showers upon the herb.  For I will proclaim the name of the Lord;
    ascribe greatness to our God!"

 Deut. 32:1-3

 "Behold, God is great, and we know him not;
    the number of his years is unsearchable.  For he draws up the drops of water;
    they distill his mist in rain, which the skies pour down
    and drop on mankind abundantly."

Job 36:26-28

 "May they fear you while the sun endures,
    and as long as the moon, throughout all generations!   

May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
    like showers that water the earth! 

In his days may the righteous flourish,
    and peace abound, till the moon be no more!"

Psalm 72:5-7

  Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving;
    make melody to our God on the lyre!

He covers the heavens with clouds;
    he prepares rain for the earth;
    he makes grass grow on the hills.

Psalm 147:7-8

"But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven.  For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."

Matthew 5:44-45

I know the music of the rain will soon cease and the sign of God's enduring covenant will shine brightly in the sky (Gen 9:8-17).  From one side of my valley to the next, the bow will gleam with vibrant colors of promise, a glorious display in the heavens that will stop even the hardest heart as it gazes upon it in wonder and awe.  The melody that issues forth from the bow will pierce the eye and flow into the heart that desires understanding of the One who placed it there.  That is its purpose and its music will not go unnoticed.

Today I am listening to the music of the rain.  It is carrying me along with its gentle bars of praise and worship, and its heavenly melody is filling my soul.

Tomorrow there will be a different song from heaven.  But for now, I will rest to the musical tones of the rain falling upon my heart.

Do you hear the music?

Al Mohler: Live Dangerously

Editor's note:  I first published this in September of 2010.  The depth to which Albert Mohler took my mind, heart, and soul was profound then, and it remains to this day that the message contained within this post is timeless.

On April 18th, Dr. Thomas White, Director of The Voice of the Martyrs, took his own life.  The reason and circumstances are not important, for only God and Dr. White know the truths behind what we see as a senseless act.  Some will remember him for the end of his life, choosing to build their own story on hearsay and rumor.  In the days to come, bloggers will sensationalize, theorize, and in their own words, either memorialize Dr. White's tireless work, or wrongly tear him down and condemn his final action without truly knowing the circumstances.

It is my belief that we should remain silent.  What may or may not have transpired prior to that ultimate moment of decision by Dr. White is not our concern and he is no longer here to defend himself.  What is done is done, regardless of the motivation that drove him to suicide.  In spite of what some are saying or intimating, only God knew his heart and the reality or truth of his salvation.  In silence, I will leave Dr. White's eternal destination to Him.

As I re-watched this video and listened to Albert Mohler's words, it reminded me of Tom White and his devotion to living dangerously.  I have been a follower and supporter of The Voice of the Martyrs for over a decade.  There was never a time when I would read his opening letter in the monthly newsletter that he would not move and inspire me with his words.  The places he traveled to, often under secrecy, were hostile to the message he was attempting to bring and to maintain it in the hearts of those living in such conditions.  The people he met and prayed with were like those Albert Mohler speaks of: faithful servants, bold, fearless, and persecuted for their love of Jesus Christ.

If Tom White was driven, the road he walked upon was paved with Grace and the LORD directed his feet to deliver the Good News of salvation to a dangerous world.  Although I did not know him, I would prefer to remember him this way and I will continue to praise God for placing men such as Tom White upon this road, a man who was willing to face whatever peril may come, and face it fearlessly.

I would like to dedicate this video to Dr. Tom White and to his precious family, friends, and colleagues who are grieving over their loss.  I pray that he is at peaceful rest with his God and that I may one day meet him and the martyrs he served.

Karen 

And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation."

Mark 16:15

How willing are you to give your all for God; to live dangerously, forsaking every comfort, every security, even to the point of death?

Many have made such great sacrifice.  There is no shortage of stories told of brave men and women who fearlessly walked out into the world for the sake of the Gospel.  The Holy Spirit whispered, "Go," and they faithfully obeyed.  The fruits of their labor were proven as they whispered to the lost, "Come."  And heaven rejoiced, the angels sang, and the Lord smiled as the harvest was laid at His feet.

There are still nations of people spread across the earth who have not yet heard of their Savior Jesus Christ.  But it is not necessary for us to travel to the four corners of the earth in search of them.  The lost also dwell in our neighborhoods, our families, and our own nation.

The opportunities have been given to us.  Yet, it is up to us to make the choice to risk everything for the One Who gave us everything.  Those in the darkest nations who have chosen to give their all to God know the dangerous consequences of their faithfulness.  They know the cost is great and that they will suffer loss and even death for their witness.  Yet, they continue to walk out into their neighborhoods with the Gospel of Jesus Christ in their hearts and on their lips, in spite of what may come.

When the time arrives that we who live in safety and security face the same persecution, will we be as faithful?  Will we be as bold, willing to live dangerously for the sake of Jesus Christ?  There will come a time when we will have to make a choice; a choice to heed the whispered words of God and yield to His gentle prodding.  His Gospel is in need of being heard.  His sheep are in need of gathering.  And workers are needed to help bring in His harvest.

The time to choose to live dangerously for God is now, while there is still time left.

Holding Our Children Accountable

I was poking around my blog this morning and noticed that a visitor had read a post that I published back in June of 2011, entitled "Just Wait Until Your Father Gets Home!"  I had written it a couple of years before that and it was just waiting for an opportune time.  It seems today is another one of those moments as I reflected on what I had written and the state of today's youth.

As I re-read my article, it conjured up a slew of crime news articles I have read over the last few years that involved children from very young ages to teenagers bordering on becoming adults.  Their offenses covered a broad spectrum, ranging from insolence, disobedience, and taking joy rides in their parents' cars to senseless murder.

Of course the secular world is unable to understand the reasoning behind such acts.  After all, they are just kids and kids don't do those kinds of things without a reason, right?   They prefer to point the blame towards society's inability to understand them and their needs, or stamp the latest new psychological label to excuse their behavior on their forehead (if there isn't one that explains away the action, they will create a new label for you).  The child becomes the victim, instead of the person to whom the crime was committed against; making excuses for his actions instead of making him accountable for them.  It's much easier to just prescribe a pill to dull the sense of right and wrong, or place them in secular counseling that has the inability to understand sin and never teaches the truth behind cause and effect.  That way, we won't have to be held personally responsible.  We can blame it on some thing or someone else.

Considering this, it is no wonder our kids are confused and unable to differentiate between what is acceptable and what is not.

Perhaps they are victims in a sense.  However, they have been victimized by unconcerned and uninvolved parents and a humanistic society who have failed them in the harshest way possible.  All too often, they have been raised in a home that's void of God and His instructions on parenting and the warnings He has given parents for failing to raise their children properly.  They are left alone to figure out their place in the social structure, making their own choices without considering the consequences, and a large segment of them are growing up on the mean streets that contradicts the definition of a "civil society."  For many of them, crime is commonplace and a way of life; a way to gain position, recognition, acceptance, to fill their pockets with money to buy worthless and meaningless objects in an attempt to "better" their lives, and to fill that void they have in their lives by making them appear to have value in society.

Our churches are also to blame for the postmodern theology and/or lack of sound and Biblical teaching and guidance that has permeated the pulpit.  Far too many youth pastors are playing church with the kids, engaging them in nonsensical and often spiritually dangerous activities, rather than teaching them what it means to love, obey, and serve God.  They are miserably failing to equip them to face the challenges they will meet.   Sadly, the results of these failures are what we are seeing and reading in today's headlines.

When kids are left to themselves, the possibility of them becoming adults with worse attitude and behavioral problems increases.  All one has to do is read the headlines to see the number of men and women incarcerated inside our prisons for varying crimes against humankind.  There is an endless parade of them and only a handful learn anything from their actions and the time they spend behind bars and go on to lead productive lives.  Because of overcrowding within the prison system, our streets are littered with early-release castoffs looking for their next unsuspecting victim.

Even those who give the appearance of living what the world considers a "normal" and "decent"  life have often accomplished their goals using sinful tactics.  Lying is now accepted as a minor offense, if it's even considered to be one. It is now called "not being completely honest" by politicians and pundits, setting a fine example for our children to learn from.  Cheating is commonplace.  Stealing is downplayed if it's just a "small and insignificant" item.  Morals and values have decreased so dramatically to call them almost nonexistent.  Self has overruled what is best for others and society as a whole.  Honesty in business and personal dealings is a rarity.

All of these ills of society began somewhere and, if we would be honest, we know where to point the blame: ourselves and our ignorant willingness to allow the secular world to define proper and improper behavior in our children and how we should and shouldn't deal with it.  But in today's litigious climate, we find ourselves fearful of reprisal should the parents of the wayward child feel their precious baby suffered emotional harm.  Because of this, the community often turns a blind eye to what is going on around them when it concerns the activities of our youth, afraid of stepping forward and offering the child and his parents a better way.   The result is a community of rebellious youths searching for the thing they, as children, desired the most:  guidance off the path of destruction, and a clear demonstration by the adults in their lives that they are loved.

Although we hate to admit it as we gaze upon a newborn infant, children are born sinful.  They are empty vessels that need filled with Godly wisdom and instruction. (Psalm 12:8; Psalm 14:2; Psalm 57:4)  And they need to be disciplined using God's example when it is necessary (Psalm 34:11).  I deeply admire and respect the parents who love their child so much they made him stand on a street corner with a sign announcing his sin for all the world to see.  It may seem hard and cruel to some who cry, "You shouldn't humiliate him like that!  He's only a child!"  After watching the news video regarding the boy in this post's photo, and hearing his father explain why he made him do it, the lesson was learned and I am confident this young man is being taught Godly values.  One day he will be an adult and his father is counting on that small and possibly embarrassing lesson to help keep his son on the strait and narrow so that he grows up to be the man he wants him to be.

We have One Person that we are responsible to.  God has graciously and lovingly loaned us the privilege of raising a child for Him.  Don't fail Him.  "Train up a child in the way he should go;  even when he is old he will not depart from it." ~ Prov. 22:6 ESV

If parents - and, I might add, grandparents - would apply this tidbit of Godly wisdom in rearing their children, there would be a lot less in the news for us to groan about and grieve over.  Our children would then become the responsible and respectful adults we desire them to be, even if it means forcing them to stand on a street corner with a sign that publicly announces his offense against God.

Allow God to lead you in your home and more important, ask Him to lead you in raising your children (or grandchildren) and guiding them the way you should.  Spend a great deal of time talking to them.  Discover for yourself who their peers are and what they are also involved in.  Closely monitor your child's behavior and look for the warning signs that trouble may be coming.  Don't let someone else raise them for you.  Their values and morals may not reflect your own.  Instruct your children on the things that are most important in life.  Not those new $200 shoes, the big fancy car, or how much money is in their pockets.  But what Scripture tells us to value: a right relationship with God and His Son and the life that awaits us with riches untold.  Teach them what it means to sin against God and the consequences it can bring, both in this world and the next.  And don't downplay what appears to be a minor offense, for there is no such thing in the big scheme of things.

Most important, hold your children accountable for their actions so that, as they grow, you can be assured they won't depart from the things you have taught them.  By doing so, the sign on the street corner won't be necessary.  You will be saving your child from a lifetime of trouble and sparing yourself and the rest of us a world of worry and grief.