This continuation of the Kimberly story (see January,February 2012 blogs) began in the fall of 2011. You will recall that Kimberly credited a daily devotion magazine for confirmation of God's leading to seek cancer treatment in Nashville. Kimberly and her mother had come to Nashville for her monthly treatment and were staying in a hotel directly across from LifeWay Christian Resources—the producer of that daily devotion!
The two of them decided to walk over to our offices and meet the folks who worked on the magazine, Open Windows. As editor of the magazine, I would have been among the first to greet Kimberly. Except I was on medical leave with a hip fracture! But I heard about the visit and the deep impression Kimberly's story had left on the staff.
The magazine staff (thank you especially, Susan) put together a collage of the particular issue of Open Windows that had blessed Kimberly so much. We planned a big surprise break-time celebration for her next trip to Nashville. We would present the collage and enjoy cookies and punch with our new-found friend. But Kimberly came down with a cold and was not able to attend the "party." And—as it turned out—I was not yet recovered from my hip fracture.
Would I ever meet the mysterious Kimberly? All I knew was that she was an attractive, vivacious blonde, and like the biblical Barnabas, had the gift of encouragement. I now know Kimberly lights a room simply by walking into it. Her contagious smile and "people first" attitude attract others to her like the proverbial flies to honey.
When I returned to work, I began a relationship with Kimberly over the phone and by e-mail. I asked about her travels and where she had stayed in Nashville. Kimberly flew in on Wednesday afternoons and left Thursday afternoons. "What do you do on Wednesday nights?" I inquired during one phone conversation.
"Nothing much. I just rest," she replied. Knowing by now that Kimberly loved going to church and being a member of a downtown church near my workplace, I asked Kimberly if she would like to go to church with me some Wednesday night. "I would love that!" she replied without hesitation.
Then the thought struck me. Why should I take Kimberly to a hotel for the night when I would be coming back downtown the next morning anyway? Although the Sarah Cannon treatment facility was not on my beaten path to work, it certainly wasn't far away.
Little did either of us know that Kimberly was going to be an answer to my prayers!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
No Room in the Inn? You Just Wait!
I promised a continuation of the Kimberly story (see January blog). And so we come to the spring of 2011. Kimberly and Michael had prayerfully decided to seek her entrance into an experimental treatment program for the melanoma cancer that slowly seemed to be winning the battle for her life. But when Kimberly approached the Sarah Cannon cancer facility in Nashville, TN, she was told there were no vacancies in the program.
Just like Joseph and Mary seeking shelter on the night of Jesus' birth, Kimberly was turned away with a 'No Vacancy' sign. But God had a plan, and like many of His plans that appear thwarted before they even begin, this plan would not be denied. Joseph discovered that plan after being thrown in a pit and then in an Egyptian jail. Jonah's submarine adventure ended on dry ground. And Daniel's influence wasn't curtailed by the Lion's Den dinner menu. So is it any surprise that someone dropped out of the Nashville program, and Kimberly took his place?
Now think about getting from South Carolina to Nashville on a monthly basis, usually for at least an overnight stay. Michael and Kimberly are in the 99% of Americans, not the top 1 %. No medical benefits could possibly cover every expense. Michael and Kimberly prayed in faith God would provide and took the step of faith into the darkness—faith that moves mountains.
Thank goodness for frequent flier miles and programs to assist medically-necessary air travel. Hooray for Southwest Airlines having a direct flight. But transportation to the treatment sites in Nashville, meals on the road, and trips back and forth to the airport were out-of-pocket expenses. Kimberly tried first one hotel, then another, seeking the lowest rate. Kimberly was also concerned about Samuel's well-being while Mom was away from home. She was his ride to school and number one homework consultant! Also, the family was still going to Virginia occasionally to meet with Samuel's doctors about his progress with his cleft palate.
Months went by as Kimberly settled into the routine of travel and treatment. On her July trip Michael and Samuel got to come with her, and they witnessed the fireworks show from Riverfront Stadium in Nashville. Then in October Kimberly's mom made the trip with her. That's when I first heard about Kimberly. But more from that in my next post!
Just like Joseph and Mary seeking shelter on the night of Jesus' birth, Kimberly was turned away with a 'No Vacancy' sign. But God had a plan, and like many of His plans that appear thwarted before they even begin, this plan would not be denied. Joseph discovered that plan after being thrown in a pit and then in an Egyptian jail. Jonah's submarine adventure ended on dry ground. And Daniel's influence wasn't curtailed by the Lion's Den dinner menu. So is it any surprise that someone dropped out of the Nashville program, and Kimberly took his place?
Now think about getting from South Carolina to Nashville on a monthly basis, usually for at least an overnight stay. Michael and Kimberly are in the 99% of Americans, not the top 1 %. No medical benefits could possibly cover every expense. Michael and Kimberly prayed in faith God would provide and took the step of faith into the darkness—faith that moves mountains.
Thank goodness for frequent flier miles and programs to assist medically-necessary air travel. Hooray for Southwest Airlines having a direct flight. But transportation to the treatment sites in Nashville, meals on the road, and trips back and forth to the airport were out-of-pocket expenses. Kimberly tried first one hotel, then another, seeking the lowest rate. Kimberly was also concerned about Samuel's well-being while Mom was away from home. She was his ride to school and number one homework consultant! Also, the family was still going to Virginia occasionally to meet with Samuel's doctors about his progress with his cleft palate.
Months went by as Kimberly settled into the routine of travel and treatment. On her July trip Michael and Samuel got to come with her, and they witnessed the fireworks show from Riverfront Stadium in Nashville. Then in October Kimberly's mom made the trip with her. That's when I first heard about Kimberly. But more from that in my next post!
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The Spirit Speaks in Our Daily Routines
She came into my life unexpectedly, definitely a God-thing. Before meeting her (I was home nursing a hip fracture), I heard about Kimberly, who had visited LifeWay to meet the people who produce Open Windows, a daily devotional magazine which I edit. Open Windows, it seems, had been used by God to give her a new lease on life.
In and of itself, this testimony is not unique. Repeated throughout the nation many times each year, I hear through snail mail, email, and telephone calls how specific devotions bless people's lives (700,000 readers). But Kimberly was facing terminal cancer and had been told she had only one chance: an experimental program being conducted at the Sarah Cannon (remember Minnie Pearl?) Treatment Center in Nashville, TN. The regular trips to Nashville would be expensive and grueling in her condition. Would the treatments even work, or worse, have terrible side effects.
Kimberly's ten year old son Samuel had been born with a severe cleft palate. Six surgeries later, and with another surgery anticipated in Spring, 2012, just thinking about the insurance claims seemed daunting. Her husband, Michael, prayed with her about their decision. One day he found an Open Windows devotion which seemed to speak to him. The Spirit encouraged Michael to believe Nashville might be their answer. Later, Kimberly walked past the magazine, which was turned over on its back. An advertisement caught her eye. Although it announced an event she wouldn't attend, the bold print title exclaimed, "Come to Nashville." The Spirit spoke to Kimberly. Together, she and Michael would give this new treatment a try!
I'll tell you more about Kimberly in my next post, but for now let's stop and contemplate the wonder of it all. Believers faced an immovable object (terminal cancer), they sought the counsel of God, and the Spirit spoke through what was a for Michael and Kimberly, a daily routine: reading a devotion with Scripture and prayer.
As you begin a new year, and as you think about affirming life goals, make it a resolution to spend time each day in Scripture and prayer. Want an answer to perplexing problems? Look to God, through His Word and prayer; sometimes the Spirit speaks in dramatic ways, but often He uses our daily routines.
In and of itself, this testimony is not unique. Repeated throughout the nation many times each year, I hear through snail mail, email, and telephone calls how specific devotions bless people's lives (700,000 readers). But Kimberly was facing terminal cancer and had been told she had only one chance: an experimental program being conducted at the Sarah Cannon (remember Minnie Pearl?) Treatment Center in Nashville, TN. The regular trips to Nashville would be expensive and grueling in her condition. Would the treatments even work, or worse, have terrible side effects.
Kimberly's ten year old son Samuel had been born with a severe cleft palate. Six surgeries later, and with another surgery anticipated in Spring, 2012, just thinking about the insurance claims seemed daunting. Her husband, Michael, prayed with her about their decision. One day he found an Open Windows devotion which seemed to speak to him. The Spirit encouraged Michael to believe Nashville might be their answer. Later, Kimberly walked past the magazine, which was turned over on its back. An advertisement caught her eye. Although it announced an event she wouldn't attend, the bold print title exclaimed, "Come to Nashville." The Spirit spoke to Kimberly. Together, she and Michael would give this new treatment a try!
I'll tell you more about Kimberly in my next post, but for now let's stop and contemplate the wonder of it all. Believers faced an immovable object (terminal cancer), they sought the counsel of God, and the Spirit spoke through what was a for Michael and Kimberly, a daily routine: reading a devotion with Scripture and prayer.
As you begin a new year, and as you think about affirming life goals, make it a resolution to spend time each day in Scripture and prayer. Want an answer to perplexing problems? Look to God, through His Word and prayer; sometimes the Spirit speaks in dramatic ways, but often He uses our daily routines.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
A Brand New Christmas Gift
Looking for that perfect and unique Christmas gift for family and friends? OK, this may not be subtle, but I am offering you a special deal on MY NEW BOOK!
Book 2 of the Living Between the Ditches series, When Christ Sets You Free, is available from the bookstore at crossbooks.com.
As a special introductory offer, I am making the book available at the author’s discount. Contact me soon and you will receive your book in time for holiday gift giving.
The new story of Parker Hamilton connects readers with favorite characters from Book 1, When God Makes No Sense, without confusing readers who have not read it. Preview the Prologue below.
Prologue
Parker Sloan Hamilton waited outside the Orlando bus station. He had
been released from prison 128 minutes ago and already felt the insecurity of
freedom. The overcast sky and threatening rain dampened what should have
been a joyful occasion.
In his mind he had pictured this day full of sunshine with a blue sky
and fluffy clouds. A circle of family and friends would meet him, with Gram
Sloan leading the way. After a round of hugs, they would whisk him away to
a new life. All that would be missing was a brass band playing “Glory, Glory,
Hallelujah.”
But no one was here. Not even the couple that ran the halfway house to
which he’d been mandated for supervised release.
Parker shuffled his feet and thought. He had the clothes on his back—the
ones he had worn in to prison that cold December day almost two years ago.
He had a small collection of bills—his entire savings from money he hadn’t
spent at the prison commissary. He could make a call inside the bus station.
But who would he call?
He had the phone number of that couple somewhere in a pocket. They
obviously weren’t going to show. Story of his life. Chaplain Jake Thomas had
told him one source of help was available 24/7. Parker had come to depend
heavily on that source and had never yet received a busy signal.
Parker was in the process of bowing his head when an older Ford sedan
rounded the corner and pulled up beside him. “Hey,” an African-American
giant of a fellow hollered. “You Parker?”
One of the fastest answers to a prayer not yet prayed, Parker thought.
“Yeah, I’m Parker.” He climbed into the car and sped away with someone
he’d never met.
*******
The passengers rode in silence for several minutes as the car wound through
traffic and merged onto the interstate. Parker felt a cold sweat cover his body
as he gripped the seat cushion. Slow down, he thought. All I need is to be
stopped by the cops.
Once in the flow of traffic, Parker felt his heart rate go down and his
breathing normalize. He hadn’t been in a car in two years. Maybe he was a
little edgy. His gaze turned to his seatmate. The burly man returned his glance
and spoke in a surprisingly gentle voice. “How’re you doin’, man?”
“Good,” Parker lied a little.
“My name’s Xander. But you can call me anything if it’s dinner time.” He
laughed heartily at his own joke.
“I’m Parker. Parker Hamilton. But then, you knew that.”
“Not too many guys named Parker hangin’ around outside a bus station.”
Again he laughed. Parker eased back a bit into his seat.
“I know you expected Mr. Connor to pick you up, but he had to go to the
hospital,” Xander continued.
Parker’s eyebrows shot up.
“Seems Miss Amber showed up unexpectedly.”
Parker’s imagination was in full gear. Who was Miss Amber? A jilted
girlfriend of a resident at the halfway house? Had a brawl broken out? Was it
serious enough to send someone to the hospital?
“Sorry to hear that,” Parker mumbled, fear creeping back up his spine.
Xander looked puzzled, then laughed again. “No, man, you got it wrong.
You see, Mr. Connor’s wife, Mrs. Megan, she just had her daughter this
morning—named her Amber Alise. I got to visit them on the way to get you.
My, my, my! Curly black hair, just like her Mom. They goin’ to have to lock
that child up when she’s a teenager,” Xander chuckled.
“I didn’t know Mrs. Megan was expecting.” Parker felt a little foolish.
“She sure wasn’t expectin’ three weeks early! Man, I been up since 4 a.m.
The whole place was buzzin’. Nobody was prepared to welcome Miss Amber
yet. Her grandma won’t get here until day after tomorrow. So, I’m kind of
in charge of the place for a while. You’re goin’ to have to eat my cookin’ this
week,” Xander grinned.
Parker wanted to be annoyed by the man’s humor. He certainly didn’t
share his jovial mood. However, Xander’s easy, relaxed manner had a calming
effect. Maybe this new place would be halfway decent.
Parker caught himself grinning at his pun. Halfway decent. What more
could a guy expect from a halfway house?
*******
Xander pulled off the highway and wound through several major intersections
before turning into an older neighborhood of Orlando. Large leafy trees and
well-kept lawns, newly painted exteriors and an occasional renovated home
told the story of a once inner city neighborhood revitalized by new families
moving into the area.
Xander pulled into the driveway of a white, shingled two storied house with
green shutters. Parker could see a light on in an upstairs window. “We’re here,”
Xander announced as he turned off the motor. As Parker fiddled with his seat
belt, Xander loped through a light rain to the front door and had it unlocked
before Parker was out of the car.
“Come on in,” Xander said. “We’ ll get you outfitted with some clothes
and stuff .” He took Parker through a large living and dining area, past the
kitchen, and into a storage area where shelves were filled with men’s clothing,
sized and neatly stacked, along with toiletries, tennis shoes, and rolled socks.
Parker immediately went to work finding his sizes and putting items into a
cardboard box Xander provided.
“Get what you need for the next few days,” he said as he headed for the
kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. You best be on time. It’s one
of the rules around here. The guy upstairs will show you your space.”
Parker finished filling his box, grabbing several extra containers of
shampoo, deodorant, and toothpaste in case his fellow residents lived by the
prison rule, “What’s yours is mine, and I’ll take it.” He found a back stairwell
to the second floor. At the top of the steps, he stopped and took a breath. He
wasn’t exactly looking forward to sharing space with anyone, much less former
inmates. Not that he could talk.
Chaplain Jake, who had recommended this place, was certain Parker would
fit in. Residents had to fill out an application and meet specific requirements:
participation in chapel worship services and Bible study groups, completion of
the prison’s drug rehabilitation program and/or therapeutic support groups,
job skill training classes or a prison job, reasonably clean disciplinary record,
and—most of all—a desire for a new and different kind of lifestyle.
Parker had a coveted spot, he knew. Several of his friends from the prison
chapel were waiting for just such an opportunity. He had to make the most of
these next six months. Slowly he pushed open the door to the second floor—the
door to his new future.
*******
Find out how Parker’s story will help you discover how to experience freedom in Christ as a lifestyle. Order now to receive your book in time for Christmas!
Book 2 of the Living Between the Ditches series, When Christ Sets You Free, is available from the bookstore at crossbooks.com.
As a special introductory offer, I am making the book available at the author’s discount. Contact me soon and you will receive your book in time for holiday gift giving.
The new story of Parker Hamilton connects readers with favorite characters from Book 1, When God Makes No Sense, without confusing readers who have not read it. Preview the Prologue below.
Prologue
Parker Sloan Hamilton waited outside the Orlando bus station. He had
been released from prison 128 minutes ago and already felt the insecurity of
freedom. The overcast sky and threatening rain dampened what should have
been a joyful occasion.
In his mind he had pictured this day full of sunshine with a blue sky
and fluffy clouds. A circle of family and friends would meet him, with Gram
Sloan leading the way. After a round of hugs, they would whisk him away to
a new life. All that would be missing was a brass band playing “Glory, Glory,
Hallelujah.”
But no one was here. Not even the couple that ran the halfway house to
which he’d been mandated for supervised release.
Parker shuffled his feet and thought. He had the clothes on his back—the
ones he had worn in to prison that cold December day almost two years ago.
He had a small collection of bills—his entire savings from money he hadn’t
spent at the prison commissary. He could make a call inside the bus station.
But who would he call?
He had the phone number of that couple somewhere in a pocket. They
obviously weren’t going to show. Story of his life. Chaplain Jake Thomas had
told him one source of help was available 24/7. Parker had come to depend
heavily on that source and had never yet received a busy signal.
Parker was in the process of bowing his head when an older Ford sedan
rounded the corner and pulled up beside him. “Hey,” an African-American
giant of a fellow hollered. “You Parker?”
One of the fastest answers to a prayer not yet prayed, Parker thought.
“Yeah, I’m Parker.” He climbed into the car and sped away with someone
he’d never met.
*******
The passengers rode in silence for several minutes as the car wound through
traffic and merged onto the interstate. Parker felt a cold sweat cover his body
as he gripped the seat cushion. Slow down, he thought. All I need is to be
stopped by the cops.
Once in the flow of traffic, Parker felt his heart rate go down and his
breathing normalize. He hadn’t been in a car in two years. Maybe he was a
little edgy. His gaze turned to his seatmate. The burly man returned his glance
and spoke in a surprisingly gentle voice. “How’re you doin’, man?”
“Good,” Parker lied a little.
“My name’s Xander. But you can call me anything if it’s dinner time.” He
laughed heartily at his own joke.
“I’m Parker. Parker Hamilton. But then, you knew that.”
“Not too many guys named Parker hangin’ around outside a bus station.”
Again he laughed. Parker eased back a bit into his seat.
“I know you expected Mr. Connor to pick you up, but he had to go to the
hospital,” Xander continued.
Parker’s eyebrows shot up.
“Seems Miss Amber showed up unexpectedly.”
Parker’s imagination was in full gear. Who was Miss Amber? A jilted
girlfriend of a resident at the halfway house? Had a brawl broken out? Was it
serious enough to send someone to the hospital?
“Sorry to hear that,” Parker mumbled, fear creeping back up his spine.
Xander looked puzzled, then laughed again. “No, man, you got it wrong.
You see, Mr. Connor’s wife, Mrs. Megan, she just had her daughter this
morning—named her Amber Alise. I got to visit them on the way to get you.
My, my, my! Curly black hair, just like her Mom. They goin’ to have to lock
that child up when she’s a teenager,” Xander chuckled.
“I didn’t know Mrs. Megan was expecting.” Parker felt a little foolish.
“She sure wasn’t expectin’ three weeks early! Man, I been up since 4 a.m.
The whole place was buzzin’. Nobody was prepared to welcome Miss Amber
yet. Her grandma won’t get here until day after tomorrow. So, I’m kind of
in charge of the place for a while. You’re goin’ to have to eat my cookin’ this
week,” Xander grinned.
Parker wanted to be annoyed by the man’s humor. He certainly didn’t
share his jovial mood. However, Xander’s easy, relaxed manner had a calming
effect. Maybe this new place would be halfway decent.
Parker caught himself grinning at his pun. Halfway decent. What more
could a guy expect from a halfway house?
*******
Xander pulled off the highway and wound through several major intersections
before turning into an older neighborhood of Orlando. Large leafy trees and
well-kept lawns, newly painted exteriors and an occasional renovated home
told the story of a once inner city neighborhood revitalized by new families
moving into the area.
Xander pulled into the driveway of a white, shingled two storied house with
green shutters. Parker could see a light on in an upstairs window. “We’re here,”
Xander announced as he turned off the motor. As Parker fiddled with his seat
belt, Xander loped through a light rain to the front door and had it unlocked
before Parker was out of the car.
“Come on in,” Xander said. “We’ ll get you outfitted with some clothes
and stuff .” He took Parker through a large living and dining area, past the
kitchen, and into a storage area where shelves were filled with men’s clothing,
sized and neatly stacked, along with toiletries, tennis shoes, and rolled socks.
Parker immediately went to work finding his sizes and putting items into a
cardboard box Xander provided.
“Get what you need for the next few days,” he said as he headed for the
kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. You best be on time. It’s one
of the rules around here. The guy upstairs will show you your space.”
Parker finished filling his box, grabbing several extra containers of
shampoo, deodorant, and toothpaste in case his fellow residents lived by the
prison rule, “What’s yours is mine, and I’ll take it.” He found a back stairwell
to the second floor. At the top of the steps, he stopped and took a breath. He
wasn’t exactly looking forward to sharing space with anyone, much less former
inmates. Not that he could talk.
Chaplain Jake, who had recommended this place, was certain Parker would
fit in. Residents had to fill out an application and meet specific requirements:
participation in chapel worship services and Bible study groups, completion of
the prison’s drug rehabilitation program and/or therapeutic support groups,
job skill training classes or a prison job, reasonably clean disciplinary record,
and—most of all—a desire for a new and different kind of lifestyle.
Parker had a coveted spot, he knew. Several of his friends from the prison
chapel were waiting for just such an opportunity. He had to make the most of
these next six months. Slowly he pushed open the door to the second floor—the
door to his new future.
*******
Find out how Parker’s story will help you discover how to experience freedom in Christ as a lifestyle. Order now to receive your book in time for Christmas!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Zombies? Bring 'Em On!
My father was a year-round prankster, but at Halloween he really got weird! I never personally saw this, but my Mom swore that one year Dad climbed on our roof, draped himself in a sheet, and scared to death little "trick or treaters" who came to the door for candy. He would jump out from the chimney and shout "whooa" as they screamed and ran from the doorway. Dad got to keep a lot more candy that way, but I suspect he did it because he loved playing pranks.
Americans spend millions of dollars on Halloween costumes and parties. We more or less take for granted the skeletons and scary masks in store windows at this time of year. Last year at Halloween I was in Germany on a mission trip. Germany is just beginning to experience something like the American Halloween tradition. I took a picture of a Halloween carnival advertisement, which the Germans I talked to found distasteful. I imagine Halloween will catch on there and across Europe as it gives an excuse for devilish behavior.
I'm not against Halloween (little kids dressing up and collecting candy), but I do find it paradoxical that our enlightened American media and entertainment world disavows any need for a God to counterbalance evil in this world and yet finds itself fascinated by zombies. Zombies are everywhere, along with vampires and witches. Why are these personifications of evil so interesting to us when any notion of sinful behavior has been wiped away by the "intolerant of intolerance" crowd? To call something "bad" is to be a bigot or worse. How then, can there be a force of evil?
If there is evil(as Hollywood seems to insist), there must also be good. Otherwise, how would we recognize evil? The Bible teaches that only God is good. He alone holds back the forces of evil in the world. Without His mighty power, we would be overcome by the "prince of darkness" and his minions. Picture a fourth, fifth or sixth dimension which we can't see filled with battle scenes pitting the forces of good against the forces of evil (see 2 Thess. 2: 7-12). Ah, but believers know how this story ends. The good guys win!
"But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one" (2 Thess. 3:3)." Believers, take heart this Halloween! The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1 Jn.4:4).
Americans spend millions of dollars on Halloween costumes and parties. We more or less take for granted the skeletons and scary masks in store windows at this time of year. Last year at Halloween I was in Germany on a mission trip. Germany is just beginning to experience something like the American Halloween tradition. I took a picture of a Halloween carnival advertisement, which the Germans I talked to found distasteful. I imagine Halloween will catch on there and across Europe as it gives an excuse for devilish behavior.
I'm not against Halloween (little kids dressing up and collecting candy), but I do find it paradoxical that our enlightened American media and entertainment world disavows any need for a God to counterbalance evil in this world and yet finds itself fascinated by zombies. Zombies are everywhere, along with vampires and witches. Why are these personifications of evil so interesting to us when any notion of sinful behavior has been wiped away by the "intolerant of intolerance" crowd? To call something "bad" is to be a bigot or worse. How then, can there be a force of evil?
If there is evil(as Hollywood seems to insist), there must also be good. Otherwise, how would we recognize evil? The Bible teaches that only God is good. He alone holds back the forces of evil in the world. Without His mighty power, we would be overcome by the "prince of darkness" and his minions. Picture a fourth, fifth or sixth dimension which we can't see filled with battle scenes pitting the forces of good against the forces of evil (see 2 Thess. 2: 7-12). Ah, but believers know how this story ends. The good guys win!
"But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one" (2 Thess. 3:3)." Believers, take heart this Halloween! The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1 Jn.4:4).
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Tripped Up and Sitting on My Soul
I ran through the Philadelphia airport, sprinting after a purse-snatcher. I finally got close enough to tackle him. We wrestled to the ground, and then a searing pain roared at me from my right pelvis. The cops got their man, and I got wheeled onto an airplane bound for Nashville.
At least, that's how the story should have read. All my co-workers agree it makes for a better, more exciting account than the simple truth: I tripped over an untied shoelace and fell over my own feet. The date was August 7, 2011. I have a fractured right sacrum and a slow healing process, which leaves lots of time for reflection.
Did you know that the word sacrum comes from the same root as "sacred"? The sacrum was thought to be the "seat of the soul." I guess all these years, I've been sitting on my soul!
As the Bible has been translated into language groups around the world, the soul has changed locations in the human body. Although some people think of it as found in the stomach and the intestines, most Westerners tend to identify its location with the heart (at least metaphorically). I've often wondered how un-churched individuals react the first time some well-meaning Christian asks them to accept Christ "into your heart." How does Jesus get in? Does He live in the right or left ventricle? Can an MRI pick Him up?
Of course, we evangelicals don't mean Jesus literally comes to live in our hearts. It's much more comprehensive than that! When someone asks Jesus to be Savior and Lord, He takes over "kit and caboodle." One of the earliest Christian identifiers was the statement, "Jesus is Lord." That's the equivalent of owner, Master—the one who calls the shots. Think about the implications the next time you say, "Yes, I've invited Jesus 'into my heart.'"
At least, that's how the story should have read. All my co-workers agree it makes for a better, more exciting account than the simple truth: I tripped over an untied shoelace and fell over my own feet. The date was August 7, 2011. I have a fractured right sacrum and a slow healing process, which leaves lots of time for reflection.
Did you know that the word sacrum comes from the same root as "sacred"? The sacrum was thought to be the "seat of the soul." I guess all these years, I've been sitting on my soul!
As the Bible has been translated into language groups around the world, the soul has changed locations in the human body. Although some people think of it as found in the stomach and the intestines, most Westerners tend to identify its location with the heart (at least metaphorically). I've often wondered how un-churched individuals react the first time some well-meaning Christian asks them to accept Christ "into your heart." How does Jesus get in? Does He live in the right or left ventricle? Can an MRI pick Him up?
Of course, we evangelicals don't mean Jesus literally comes to live in our hearts. It's much more comprehensive than that! When someone asks Jesus to be Savior and Lord, He takes over "kit and caboodle." One of the earliest Christian identifiers was the statement, "Jesus is Lord." That's the equivalent of owner, Master—the one who calls the shots. Think about the implications the next time you say, "Yes, I've invited Jesus 'into my heart.'"
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Freedom: Independence Day?
Freedom is somewhat like oxygen. We don’t miss it unless we don’t have it.
Those of us celebrating the July 4th weekend in America have always had a relatively "free" life. However, even with the protections of the Constitution, we are not completely free to do as we please. (You can't cry "fire" in a crowded theater, for example.) But if you're interested in total personal freedom, I have an idea for you.
Did you know you could become the head of your own government and establish or eliminate any laws you please? It’s true. Simply live on a boat in international waters. Of course, you’ll have to provide your own drinking water, food, and so on. But you get to be in charge.
Wonder what it would be like to live in a place without rules and regulations? Most people understand that when we choose personal freedom, we lose the “perks” of a well-ordered society— a trade-off if one’s goal is liberty from man-made laws. But what about God’s laws? Are they in effect even in international waters?
That's one of the issues I'm pursuing in my second book, due out before Christmas, 2011. The idea of freedom in Christ vs. living in obedience to our Lord fascinates me. Are we free in Christ? If so, what does that freedom look like? Sometimes our freedom seems quite limited by life circumstances.
In March, following a vicious attack by two dogs, my Maltese poodle named Lily had to wear a cone-like plastic hood. This “party hat,” as my vet likes to call it, kept Lily from chewing her stitches, but it also limited her favorite activity—gnawing on a rawhide bone perched between her two front paws. From behind the hood, Lily's pleading eyes looked at me as though I were a monster.
“Just for another week,” I explained to Lily, scratching her ears and expecting her to understand. Forlorn and defeated, Lily rested her chin on the plastic prison. Even if she had understood, a week was a lifetime to a 15-month-old puppy.
When God's plan involves curtailing our activities—whether through difficulties of health or finances or family relationships—we must look at Him like Lily looked at me. We don't see His grand design for our lives, or something He's trying to teach us, or the necessity of His having to call a halt to our plans.
God’s plan from the beginning of time was to free humankind from prisons of self, sin, and the law. A perfect sacrifice—the incarnate God-man—would pay the eternal consequences of our human condition. That's the best kind of freedom we could ever want. And it's available to everyone, everywhere. Happy "independence day" for all who are "dependent" on God.
Those of us celebrating the July 4th weekend in America have always had a relatively "free" life. However, even with the protections of the Constitution, we are not completely free to do as we please. (You can't cry "fire" in a crowded theater, for example.) But if you're interested in total personal freedom, I have an idea for you.
Did you know you could become the head of your own government and establish or eliminate any laws you please? It’s true. Simply live on a boat in international waters. Of course, you’ll have to provide your own drinking water, food, and so on. But you get to be in charge.
Wonder what it would be like to live in a place without rules and regulations? Most people understand that when we choose personal freedom, we lose the “perks” of a well-ordered society— a trade-off if one’s goal is liberty from man-made laws. But what about God’s laws? Are they in effect even in international waters?
That's one of the issues I'm pursuing in my second book, due out before Christmas, 2011. The idea of freedom in Christ vs. living in obedience to our Lord fascinates me. Are we free in Christ? If so, what does that freedom look like? Sometimes our freedom seems quite limited by life circumstances.
In March, following a vicious attack by two dogs, my Maltese poodle named Lily had to wear a cone-like plastic hood. This “party hat,” as my vet likes to call it, kept Lily from chewing her stitches, but it also limited her favorite activity—gnawing on a rawhide bone perched between her two front paws. From behind the hood, Lily's pleading eyes looked at me as though I were a monster.
“Just for another week,” I explained to Lily, scratching her ears and expecting her to understand. Forlorn and defeated, Lily rested her chin on the plastic prison. Even if she had understood, a week was a lifetime to a 15-month-old puppy.
When God's plan involves curtailing our activities—whether through difficulties of health or finances or family relationships—we must look at Him like Lily looked at me. We don't see His grand design for our lives, or something He's trying to teach us, or the necessity of His having to call a halt to our plans.
God’s plan from the beginning of time was to free humankind from prisons of self, sin, and the law. A perfect sacrifice—the incarnate God-man—would pay the eternal consequences of our human condition. That's the best kind of freedom we could ever want. And it's available to everyone, everywhere. Happy "independence day" for all who are "dependent" on God.
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