I've loved getting comments from my readers! I thought I'd share a few with you.
Dr. Betty Hassler has reminded us that “living between the ditches” is a daily call, a never-ending mandate to trust the Lord at all times. In tough situations, I have viewed God as distant and unconcerned about my life. In good times, I’ve treated God as if he were simply a candy machine – put in my change, and out comes the candy. I thought that I had grown beyond these ditches, but reading this book stretched me to the point of discomfort. Read this book’s challenge to rejoice as a holy God allows us to know him.
Dr. Chuck Lawless, Dean, Billy Graham School of Missions, Church Growth, and Evangelism, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY
Most of us love simplicity and hate complexity. We feel better sticking hard-to-understand things into easily understandable boxes. Unfortunately, this human inclination usually produces more confusion than clarity. Dr. Betty Hassler helps us counter our natural tendencies to do that with God. By oversimplifying Him, we misunderstand Him. And that makes life tougher for us. She helps us turn the focus knob to bring God into clearer view. I highly recommend this book to pastors helping church members, to counselors helping clients, or to anyone seeking a better understanding of who God is and how He works.
Dr. Alan Godwin, author of How to Solve Your People Problems, clinical psychologist, Nashville, TN
Betty Hassler takes us on a journey to discover that the paradox presents possibilities. She demonstrates that all of life’s difficult, unanswerable questions enhance, rather than detract from the beauty and greatness of the Almighty. Her insights pull us from the ditches of a one-dimensional view of God to see that He who surprises and mystifies is centered on the road. It’s an engaging, stimulating, highly recommended read!
Mary Kassian, author, speaker, Edmonton, Canada;
adjunct professor in the women’s ministries program, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY
The author has artistically interwoven profound biblical truths with the real-life story of Layton and his family. This book is so real and brutally honest at times that it catches me asking myself where I might be if I were in Layton’s shoes. In reading this book I’ve become more aware that at times the ditches seem a lot wider than the road itself and the chances of getting off the road are a lot greater. My prayer for you as you read this book is that you will learn proper balance so that you can keep between the ditches.
Dr. Phil Waugh, executive director, Covenant Marriage Movement, adjunct professor, Liberty University, Lynchburg, VA
As a writer, I'm amazed to see the different dimensions of my book through the eyes of those who read it. Some see the theology, others the story, and a few commented on the inter-connectedness of the two. I'll add a few more later.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Layton's Ditches
Layton Brooks, the fictional main character of Living Between the Ditches, illustrates the plight of most Christians. We bounce from one ditch to another, rarely experiencing the space between the ditches, the part of the road God intends for us to travel. In Layton's case, he began his Christian life in the ditch of knowing God so well he felt he had him in his back pocket. He'd grown up in a Christian home and church. God was familiar and predictable—or so he thought.
On page 92 of the book, I describe Layton faith as faith in a plan rather than in a Person. The plan was "like skull practice before a football game. Work your plan, stay with the basics, don't play into the opposing team's hands, and eventually you'll make a touchdown." Layton thought this advice worked for all of life. He'd worked his plan.
In this scenario, God was to be appeased instead of pleased. If God liked what you did, all would go well. If He didn't, He'd zap you with some catastrophe or the other. Being good almost always assured His favor. When Layton began to experience the inevitable heartbreaks of life—and a few he'd helped create—he turned his back on this supposedly good God. God hadn't come through for him. God hadn't kept his part of the bargain. Neither would Layton.
Layton found himself in the opposite ditch. The ditch of a mysterious God hid God's face from view. Was God good or bad, a giver or a taker, trustworthy or unreliable? Eventually, Layton had to choose between his childhood and childish view of God and a different, unfamiliar picture of Him. Leslee Baird called the process reframing.
Maybe you've been at that crossroads, or perhaps you're there now. In a few minutes, 2009 will end and 2010 will begin. Make it your resolution to get to know the God who longs to know you and be known by you—who wants a relationship unlike any other you've ever experienced. Ask Him to show Himself to you. Ask Him until He answers. Then, tell me what you learned!
I'll look forward to hearing from you in 2010!
Living between the ditches,
Betty
On page 92 of the book, I describe Layton faith as faith in a plan rather than in a Person. The plan was "like skull practice before a football game. Work your plan, stay with the basics, don't play into the opposing team's hands, and eventually you'll make a touchdown." Layton thought this advice worked for all of life. He'd worked his plan.
In this scenario, God was to be appeased instead of pleased. If God liked what you did, all would go well. If He didn't, He'd zap you with some catastrophe or the other. Being good almost always assured His favor. When Layton began to experience the inevitable heartbreaks of life—and a few he'd helped create—he turned his back on this supposedly good God. God hadn't come through for him. God hadn't kept his part of the bargain. Neither would Layton.
Layton found himself in the opposite ditch. The ditch of a mysterious God hid God's face from view. Was God good or bad, a giver or a taker, trustworthy or unreliable? Eventually, Layton had to choose between his childhood and childish view of God and a different, unfamiliar picture of Him. Leslee Baird called the process reframing.
Maybe you've been at that crossroads, or perhaps you're there now. In a few minutes, 2009 will end and 2010 will begin. Make it your resolution to get to know the God who longs to know you and be known by you—who wants a relationship unlike any other you've ever experienced. Ask Him to show Himself to you. Ask Him until He answers. Then, tell me what you learned!
I'll look forward to hearing from you in 2010!
Living between the ditches,
Betty
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Premise: Living Between the Ditches
The fact that Knowing God by J.I. Packer is still in print after more than 30 years indicates a wide interest in unveiling the mystery of relationship with God. Countless books have dealt with the deeper spiritual life, intimacy with God, and how to achieve that goal. I believe my contribution to this effort is to present knowing God as a factor of integrating God’s desire to be known without our having to explain away His mystery. We will never know all of God, nor would that be in our best interest. At the same time, His mystery should not prevent our seeking to know God intimately.
In the "Introduction" to my book I present the narrow road as a metaphor for the Christian life. The psalmist called it a path (119:105). Jesus called it the Way (Jn. 14:6). We don’t literally walk down a road as we go through each day. However, life is often described as a journey. In Matthew 7:13-14 Jesus said, “ ‘Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.’ ”
When I picture this narrow road, I see ditches on either side, somewhat like physical ditches alongside a country lane. The image of ditches suggests that we may fall, tumble, slide, or walk off the road of life into a ditch on one side of the road or the other. If we do, we cease to make progress on the road to God’s house. So we must learn to navigate the road in such a way that we live between the ditches.
Christians always encounter Scriptural truths in spiritual ditches. So why not stay there? The problem is that we can see only a part of the truth, and living out of it alone provides insufficient direction for the journey. That’s because the truth in the ditch is half of a paradox. The word paradox is defined as two truths that exist side-by-side yet seem to be contradictory.
The way to relate to God is by living between the ditches of a God who wants to be known as well as a God of mystery. Although neither ditch serves us well alone, both are essential. We must hold in balance this God who wants to be known yet worshipped with fear and awe. In place of holy inertia, we can relate to God with confidence.
To help the reader conceptualize this truth, I've related the fictional story of Layton and Amy Brooks (see earlier posts). Interspersed throughout the content, the story describes Layton’s personal struggles with his ex-wife Amy, both of whom are on the path to a new and meaningful relationship with God. Layton, Amy, and the other characters illustrate the premise of learning to live between the ditches.
In the "Introduction" to my book I present the narrow road as a metaphor for the Christian life. The psalmist called it a path (119:105). Jesus called it the Way (Jn. 14:6). We don’t literally walk down a road as we go through each day. However, life is often described as a journey. In Matthew 7:13-14 Jesus said, “ ‘Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.’ ”
When I picture this narrow road, I see ditches on either side, somewhat like physical ditches alongside a country lane. The image of ditches suggests that we may fall, tumble, slide, or walk off the road of life into a ditch on one side of the road or the other. If we do, we cease to make progress on the road to God’s house. So we must learn to navigate the road in such a way that we live between the ditches.
Christians always encounter Scriptural truths in spiritual ditches. So why not stay there? The problem is that we can see only a part of the truth, and living out of it alone provides insufficient direction for the journey. That’s because the truth in the ditch is half of a paradox. The word paradox is defined as two truths that exist side-by-side yet seem to be contradictory.
The way to relate to God is by living between the ditches of a God who wants to be known as well as a God of mystery. Although neither ditch serves us well alone, both are essential. We must hold in balance this God who wants to be known yet worshipped with fear and awe. In place of holy inertia, we can relate to God with confidence.
To help the reader conceptualize this truth, I've related the fictional story of Layton and Amy Brooks (see earlier posts). Interspersed throughout the content, the story describes Layton’s personal struggles with his ex-wife Amy, both of whom are on the path to a new and meaningful relationship with God. Layton, Amy, and the other characters illustrate the premise of learning to live between the ditches.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Job's Story: Where's God's Protection?
My granddaughter, Sara—Sara without an H she would tell you—has a real heart for the Lord, for which her grandparents are very glad. This past summer, she and her dad were sitting in the floor of her room playing.
“Dad,” she asked, out of the clear blue sky, “do you feel God’s protection?”
A bit startled, my son replied, “Well, yes, Sara, I do.”
“I do too,” she said, and happily went back to playing.
Now that story makes a warm grandmother memory! I’m thankful Sara felt God’s protection. But in September of this year, Sara came down with Swine flu. She’s still recovering and under a doctor’s care 7 weeks later.
Where was God’s protection when that little undetectable virus entered Sara’s body? Will Sara ever question God’s protection? Do you? I certainly have. Where was God's protection when as a young bride of four months I was in a car accident that left me bedridden for six weeks? Or when my husband caught bacterial meningitis? The list goes on.
A Bible character named Job had every reason to feel safe and secure in God’s protection. He had 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys and oxen, 7 sons, 3 daughters, and one nagging wife. Yet, in one day’s time he lost everything but his nagging wife. You may be familiar with his well-known response to his losses. In Job 1:21 he said:
Now wait a minute. Job said God is both a giver and a taker. If we think about it from our prayer lives, we know God says yes and no. But can we really call God a taker?
Job’s nagging wife thought so. Soon after the deaths of Job’s children and the loss of his fortune, Job was afflicted with boils. Mrs. Job, in her despair, asked, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die.” Job reflected on her conclusion to “curse God and die” with a penetrating question of his own, one with which we should all wrestle. Job 2:10 asks, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job said, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Do you find it hard to rest comfortably in the arms of God? Just when you think you’ve got him figured out, He turns in another direction? Is God a giver or a taker? Usually, we answer that question based on our life circumstances—at the moment. But we need a heavenly perspective. Only God knows what he’s doing through the events of our lives. Only He knows how to transform us into Christ-likeness and move us forward on the road to His house. His pace may seem too slow or so fast it makes our heads spin. But the choice isn’t ours to make.
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job learned to accept God’s divine wisdom—but only after he’d verbally wrestled with God over his circumstances. In Job 38: 4 God asked Job a profound question: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Tell me if you understand.”
For the next 125 verses, God makes mincemeat of Job’s reasoning. In Job 40:1 God asks, “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?”
Job then responds, “I spoke once, but I have no answer.” Then in 42:2, Job says, “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted…Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” To do so is to tell God how our lives should transpire in order to please us. Sorry, but it's all about Him.
“Dad,” she asked, out of the clear blue sky, “do you feel God’s protection?”
A bit startled, my son replied, “Well, yes, Sara, I do.”
“I do too,” she said, and happily went back to playing.
Now that story makes a warm grandmother memory! I’m thankful Sara felt God’s protection. But in September of this year, Sara came down with Swine flu. She’s still recovering and under a doctor’s care 7 weeks later.
Where was God’s protection when that little undetectable virus entered Sara’s body? Will Sara ever question God’s protection? Do you? I certainly have. Where was God's protection when as a young bride of four months I was in a car accident that left me bedridden for six weeks? Or when my husband caught bacterial meningitis? The list goes on.
A Bible character named Job had every reason to feel safe and secure in God’s protection. He had 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys and oxen, 7 sons, 3 daughters, and one nagging wife. Yet, in one day’s time he lost everything but his nagging wife. You may be familiar with his well-known response to his losses. In Job 1:21 he said:
“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Now wait a minute. Job said God is both a giver and a taker. If we think about it from our prayer lives, we know God says yes and no. But can we really call God a taker?
Job’s nagging wife thought so. Soon after the deaths of Job’s children and the loss of his fortune, Job was afflicted with boils. Mrs. Job, in her despair, asked, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die.” Job reflected on her conclusion to “curse God and die” with a penetrating question of his own, one with which we should all wrestle. Job 2:10 asks, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job said, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Do you find it hard to rest comfortably in the arms of God? Just when you think you’ve got him figured out, He turns in another direction? Is God a giver or a taker? Usually, we answer that question based on our life circumstances—at the moment. But we need a heavenly perspective. Only God knows what he’s doing through the events of our lives. Only He knows how to transform us into Christ-likeness and move us forward on the road to His house. His pace may seem too slow or so fast it makes our heads spin. But the choice isn’t ours to make.
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job learned to accept God’s divine wisdom—but only after he’d verbally wrestled with God over his circumstances. In Job 38: 4 God asked Job a profound question: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Tell me if you understand.”
For the next 125 verses, God makes mincemeat of Job’s reasoning. In Job 40:1 God asks, “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?”
Job then responds, “I spoke once, but I have no answer.” Then in 42:2, Job says, “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted…Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” To do so is to tell God how our lives should transpire in order to please us. Sorry, but it's all about Him.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The God of the Bible: The Greatest Mystery Ever
The God of the Bible is disarmingly unpredictable. The person who wants a nice, rational God with consistent answers to their prayers will be disappointed to find that He's a God of paradox instead. I learned that the hard way—through life experiences.
By the time I was grown, I thought I knew God intimately. I also thought I knew the rules of the game: obey the Ten Commandments, pray, read the Bible, go to church. In return, I would enjoy God's protection and provision. Good would come from evil, right would prevail, and my parade would never get rained out.
What a jolt to discover that I was subject to the same discouragements, travesties of justice, and tragedies that befall all of us at one time or another. Where was God's protective shield? Did it matter that I was a Christian? But I wasn't willing to give up on God so readily. I had fallen in love with my Maker at an early age, and despite the twists and turns of life, I knew this mystery had an answer.
In my book, Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, I reveal my conclusions. I wish I could tie up my concept of God with a pretty ribbon and present Him to you in a beautifully gift-wrapped box. But when you think about it, God didn't exactly present His one and only Son that way, either. Jesus was born in a cattle stall—or cave—to parents whose character had been questioned by their townspeople and without even enough clout to get a room in a nice inn. Although we'd like to think of Jesus as handsome (the Bible says he wasn't "comely"), charismatic ("Isn't this the carpenter's son?"), and popular (He was betrayed by a friend and the crowds cried, "Crucify him!"), Jesus was an itinerant preacher supported by love offerings and without a bed to call his own.
Since Jesus was and is part of the Godhead, has existed forever, and made our world (see John chapter 1), you would expect a more lavish lifestyle (He owns the cattle on a thousand hills) and a bit more acclaim (Lord of Lords, and King of Kings). Jesus claimed that He and the Father were one and the same. So, if Jesus' defied all expectations of what He would be like, certainly His Father is not easily boxed by our human frames. God is masterfully complex.
In researching the God of the Bible I discovered a paradox that remained true from Genesis to Revelation: We can know God. God is mystery. I also discovered the rich meaning of this truth, how it enhanced instead of diminished my faith, and how much more I cherished my relationship with Him. God's mystery is majesty; his presence is overpowering. We can both know Him intimately and not know Him well at all. Sound absurd?
In the next installment, I'll share the main story from the Bible that helped me understand my dilemma with the God of the Bible.
By the time I was grown, I thought I knew God intimately. I also thought I knew the rules of the game: obey the Ten Commandments, pray, read the Bible, go to church. In return, I would enjoy God's protection and provision. Good would come from evil, right would prevail, and my parade would never get rained out.
What a jolt to discover that I was subject to the same discouragements, travesties of justice, and tragedies that befall all of us at one time or another. Where was God's protective shield? Did it matter that I was a Christian? But I wasn't willing to give up on God so readily. I had fallen in love with my Maker at an early age, and despite the twists and turns of life, I knew this mystery had an answer.
In my book, Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, I reveal my conclusions. I wish I could tie up my concept of God with a pretty ribbon and present Him to you in a beautifully gift-wrapped box. But when you think about it, God didn't exactly present His one and only Son that way, either. Jesus was born in a cattle stall—or cave—to parents whose character had been questioned by their townspeople and without even enough clout to get a room in a nice inn. Although we'd like to think of Jesus as handsome (the Bible says he wasn't "comely"), charismatic ("Isn't this the carpenter's son?"), and popular (He was betrayed by a friend and the crowds cried, "Crucify him!"), Jesus was an itinerant preacher supported by love offerings and without a bed to call his own.
Since Jesus was and is part of the Godhead, has existed forever, and made our world (see John chapter 1), you would expect a more lavish lifestyle (He owns the cattle on a thousand hills) and a bit more acclaim (Lord of Lords, and King of Kings). Jesus claimed that He and the Father were one and the same. So, if Jesus' defied all expectations of what He would be like, certainly His Father is not easily boxed by our human frames. God is masterfully complex.
In researching the God of the Bible I discovered a paradox that remained true from Genesis to Revelation: We can know God. God is mystery. I also discovered the rich meaning of this truth, how it enhanced instead of diminished my faith, and how much more I cherished my relationship with Him. God's mystery is majesty; his presence is overpowering. We can both know Him intimately and not know Him well at all. Sound absurd?
In the next installment, I'll share the main story from the Bible that helped me understand my dilemma with the God of the Bible.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Amazing Myra Norwell
Myra, wife of Pastor Frank, doesn't appear in Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, until chapter 7. Since there are only 12 chapters in the book, the reader might think she's a minor character. However, Myra plays a crucial role in the story. But for those of you who haven't read it, I'll leave you to decipher that clue.
Myra bonds with the reader immediately. What's not to like? She's warm, affectionate, a good listener, and compassionate. Myra had been Layton's second mother as he grew up, and now, he guessed, she was his only mother—at least, the only one who knew him (p. 83). But in his preoccupation with Brianne's surgery, Layton hadn't even asked about her when Pastor Frank and he were talking during the surgical procedure. Now he felt guilty.
Myra put Layton at ease. Not into the sport of keeping a record of wrongs, Myra waved his concerns away. She knew what it was like to be absorbed in one's own family problems, and as we find out, she's more than just sympathetic with Brianne's disease. Myra knows at a depth most of us don't care to reach. Her comfort is with the comfort we have received from God, who comforts us in our troubles (1 Cor. 1:4).
Myra, it seems, has become a good friend to Amy. As Myra and Amy leave the hospital for "a girl's night out," Layton's not sure how he feels about this friendship. Betrayed? Jealous? But as he waits for their return, he's got a bigger problem to ponder. Why have Myra's "ups and downs" seem to have brought her closer to God while in his own pain God has grown more distant?
Myra's counsel over the coming weeks would prove critical to Layton's coming to grips with his mother's Alzheimers and learning to relate to her in terms of her needs rather than his own. Serving his mother proves satisfying, even when she thinks Layton is his brother Kyle.
My favorite Myra lines are these:
"Saint Paul chose contentment whatever the circumstances. He didn't write that because he had a life of comfort and ease. He wrote the letter from prison, of all places! Paul had learned contentment because he first learned gratitude. Remember, he started his letter with, 'I thank my God ... Did you know,' Myra continued, 'that it's almost impossible to feel anxiety and gratefulness at the same time?" (p. 148)
I love that thought! May I dwell on it tonight as I go to sleep and as I wake to a new workday. Thank you, Myra, for helping me feel God's strength as my refuge (p. 148).
Myra bonds with the reader immediately. What's not to like? She's warm, affectionate, a good listener, and compassionate. Myra had been Layton's second mother as he grew up, and now, he guessed, she was his only mother—at least, the only one who knew him (p. 83). But in his preoccupation with Brianne's surgery, Layton hadn't even asked about her when Pastor Frank and he were talking during the surgical procedure. Now he felt guilty.
Myra put Layton at ease. Not into the sport of keeping a record of wrongs, Myra waved his concerns away. She knew what it was like to be absorbed in one's own family problems, and as we find out, she's more than just sympathetic with Brianne's disease. Myra knows at a depth most of us don't care to reach. Her comfort is with the comfort we have received from God, who comforts us in our troubles (1 Cor. 1:4).
Myra, it seems, has become a good friend to Amy. As Myra and Amy leave the hospital for "a girl's night out," Layton's not sure how he feels about this friendship. Betrayed? Jealous? But as he waits for their return, he's got a bigger problem to ponder. Why have Myra's "ups and downs" seem to have brought her closer to God while in his own pain God has grown more distant?
Myra's counsel over the coming weeks would prove critical to Layton's coming to grips with his mother's Alzheimers and learning to relate to her in terms of her needs rather than his own. Serving his mother proves satisfying, even when she thinks Layton is his brother Kyle.
My favorite Myra lines are these:
"Saint Paul chose contentment whatever the circumstances. He didn't write that because he had a life of comfort and ease. He wrote the letter from prison, of all places! Paul had learned contentment because he first learned gratitude. Remember, he started his letter with, 'I thank my God ... Did you know,' Myra continued, 'that it's almost impossible to feel anxiety and gratefulness at the same time?" (p. 148)
I love that thought! May I dwell on it tonight as I go to sleep and as I wake to a new workday. Thank you, Myra, for helping me feel God's strength as my refuge (p. 148).
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Delightful Dyers
My favorite characters in my book Living Between the Ditches were not the hero or the heroine—Layton and Amy—nor their precious 4-year-old Brianne. Surely it would have been Pastor Frank or his wife Myra (the subject of my next and yet unwritten post).
Surprisingly, it's the Dyers, Amy's parents. I'm surprised because when we first meet Jan and Phil, they are the starched perfectionists who kiss on the cheek and have impeccable table manners. To some degree they helped create Amy's willingness to take the blame for the breakup of her marriage and not to fight for it. Amy was taught compliance and conformity.
Then, during Amy's college years her parents become Christians—the radical type who talk about their faith! Amy is turned off by their zeal yet aware that something or Someone has changed them for the better. Jan's favorite expression is uttered several times throughout the book (and even makes it into the Epilogue--oops! don't peek if you haven't gotten there yet): "God is up to something!"
When retirement comes, the Dyers head for a volunteer mission assignment in Ecuador, which is where we find them in chapter one. Brianne's unscheduled surgery has left them scrambling for plane tickets to Nashville while awaiting a replacement couple. Their delayed arrival gives Layton and Amy time together, time to talk and try to clear the air.
The Dyers are Meme and Mepaw to little Brianne, who adores them. She can't wait to show them her scar, as though it were a prized possession. When they finally get to her house, life is in turmoil and Brianne is in tears.
Layton is pretty sure he knows how Jan and Phil feel about him after the divorce. And it's not good. Instead, they give him a warm reception. The reader is clued in as to why the Dyers react as they do. And then come my favorite lines in the whole book. You can find them at the top of page 147--second paragraph.
The Dyers are the best of what Christianity has to offer—the God of the second chances, forgiver of our sins, and champion of our futures.
Surprisingly, it's the Dyers, Amy's parents. I'm surprised because when we first meet Jan and Phil, they are the starched perfectionists who kiss on the cheek and have impeccable table manners. To some degree they helped create Amy's willingness to take the blame for the breakup of her marriage and not to fight for it. Amy was taught compliance and conformity.
Then, during Amy's college years her parents become Christians—the radical type who talk about their faith! Amy is turned off by their zeal yet aware that something or Someone has changed them for the better. Jan's favorite expression is uttered several times throughout the book (and even makes it into the Epilogue--oops! don't peek if you haven't gotten there yet): "God is up to something!"
When retirement comes, the Dyers head for a volunteer mission assignment in Ecuador, which is where we find them in chapter one. Brianne's unscheduled surgery has left them scrambling for plane tickets to Nashville while awaiting a replacement couple. Their delayed arrival gives Layton and Amy time together, time to talk and try to clear the air.
The Dyers are Meme and Mepaw to little Brianne, who adores them. She can't wait to show them her scar, as though it were a prized possession. When they finally get to her house, life is in turmoil and Brianne is in tears.
Layton is pretty sure he knows how Jan and Phil feel about him after the divorce. And it's not good. Instead, they give him a warm reception. The reader is clued in as to why the Dyers react as they do. And then come my favorite lines in the whole book. You can find them at the top of page 147--second paragraph.
The Dyers are the best of what Christianity has to offer—the God of the second chances, forgiver of our sins, and champion of our futures.
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