Thankful For the Truth

"Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me." John 14:6

When Charlie and I were driving home from Alaska this fall, we stayed in lots of hotels. One night I flipped the remote and who should I see on the screen right in front of me but Billy Grahm himself. It was a rerun of one of his crusades back in the 70's. Behind him was a huge sign with his signature verse, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." As I watched the program, I thought about how many people came to know this verse through Billy Grahm's travels! Today millions are in a relationship with Jesus Christ through God's words spoken by this one man.

Listening to Billy preach brought to mind some memories of my own early years. I was a young girl - like grade school young. There were nights when my mom would send me to bed telling me that I had dawdled long enough. (Were there really days when I avoided sleep?) As soon as my lights were off and I heard her steps receeding down the stairs, I would reach under my bed and pull out my trusty transistor radio. We all had them in those days, the then I Pods of our lives. Pretty soon I would be listening to a fiery young preacher teaching the word of God and imploring everyone who listened to come forward and receive Jesus. I didn't have the foggiest what that meant but I was mesmerized by his way of speaking. I had never heard anybody preach like that. Sometimes I'd fall asleep and forget to turn the radio off.

Many years later, after I came to understand that knowing Jesus was not a religion but a relationship, I remembered that Billy Grahm tried to tell me that way back from under my bed on those summer evenings. "I am the way, the truth, and the light." I still equate those words with my favorite childhood evangelist when I read John 14 in my Bible.

Lots of thoughts come to me, but here's the one I'm going with today. Where would we be without the Bible teaching us the way and the truth and the light? What if God hadn't made the effort to communicate with us through the great love letter of His word? The answer is pretty obvious. We would all be stumbling around in the murky cesspool of darkness that we see around us today. There would be no way to discern our lifetime paths. No way to know what truth looked like. No way to light our travels as we journeyed - to where? "Teach me Your WAY, O Lord, And lead me in a smooth path, because of my enemies." Ps. 27:11. "And you shall know the TRUTH, and the TRUTH shall make you free." John 8:32 "The entrance of Your words gives LIGHT; It gives understanding to the simple." (That would be me.) Ps. 119:130

This Thanksgiving I have so much to be thankful for. But, chief above all, I'm thanking God for His persistent love that became His wonderful Word to us - the very very Holy Bible.

We've traveled together,

My Bible and I,

Through all kinds of weather,

With smile or with sigh,

In sorrow or sunshine,

In tempest or calm,

Its friendship unchanging,

My Lamp and my song!

So now who shall part us,

My Bible and I?

Shall "isms" or "schisms,"

Or "new lights" who try?

Shall shadow for substance

Or stone for good bread,

Supplant its wisdom sound,

Give folly instead?

Ah, no! my dear Bible,

Exponent of Light!

Thou sword of the Spirit,

Put error to flight:

And still through life's journey

Until my last sigh -

We'll travel together,

My Bible and I!

(Anon)

Snowed By Snowmen?

"If then, God so clothes the grass, which today is in the field and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will He clothe you, O you of little faith?" Luke 12:32

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own troubles." Matthew 6:34

Why is it so easy to let our thoughts run downhill? Especially when God tells us DO NOT WORRY! The context of this verse is - do not even start to worry. We are to nip it in the bud... before it grows like a snowball that begins tiny but gathers so much snow as it rolls that it becomes big enough to be used for building a snowman. Snowmen are very hard to move around. They sit there like big lumps. Worry, once it starts, is a big icey snowball that won't leave our minds. It is exhausting to deal with. Why do we waste our energy dealing with something so unnecessary? God's word says we do so much better to simply trust Him with our concerns.

Anxiety is a product of attitude not of the circumstances of the day. The question is: who am I going to trust? Myself or God? He promises that He will give us sufficient grace for each day. And we don't need to waste our energy pushing around the snowmen of our minds.

Here's a quote I have written in my Bible: "Courage is not the absence of fear; that's insanity! Courage is Jesus Christ in the midst of what makes us fearful."

We don't need to be snowed by the snowmen of our minds. Don't even start to worry. God is there for each day's troubles. I like that promise. Forget about making those snowballs!

Is Narnia Melting?

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulations, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ." II Corinthians 1: 3-5

It has been nearly eight months since Nick died. My grandchild. Charlie's grandson. My children's son and nephew. My grandchildren's brother and cousin. His young life cut off and ended at the youthful age of sixteen. His driver's license three weeks old in the wallet handed to his parents.

I wrote about Nick's death in the previous blog thinking that I would journal my way through grief. But it didn't work that way. I couldn't write about this horrific family loss because all of a sudden I realized that my heart had frozen and locked up like a computer. There was nothing I could do to get it going again. I couldn't write about anything! Not even simple thank you notes. Whenever I started to write, I would stare out the window. I was numb and mute like the cold icey outdoors. When asked when I was going to blog again, I could only shake my head in silence. Sometimes I would say, "When the Lord gives, I guess." And I wondered, would He ever choose to give again?"

I talked to my friend who is a counselor. She said, "Betsy, you are trying to process your grief. Don't do that. When you are in so much pain, you can't process. Just lean into Jesus and let Him comfort you in His way and in His time."

That was very good counsel. I heard the Lord speaking to me through her words. It's the advice that I'd pass on to anyone who is suffering from deep loss. Lean into Jesus and let Him comfort you in His way and in His time. So that's what I did and that's what I am still doing. I have been amazed at the special comfort that He gives and sends into our deepest pain. I've given it a name - God's Customized Comfort. It's tailor made for us but we have to learn to lean into Him and receive it. Isn't that what the Christian's joyful journey is all about - "learning to lean , learning to lean, learning to lean on Jesus," as the beautiful old hymn tells us?

But lately, just lately, I feel a thawing, a melting deep within the innermost parts of my soul. It's like being in the northwoods and hearing a trickle of water surging up in the deep snow of a long winter. When you hear it, you pause and ask, "Is winter melting? Can it be? Will the newness of spring really come?"

Creative thoughts are beginning to gently rise like little bubbles in a kettle of water that sits on a gas flame and is almost ready to boil. There are things I want to write down and share about God's Customized Comfort. His goodness and tenderness in His care for me doing this time has been so healing. He has used His Word and He has brought people in ways that I could never have imagined before Nick went to be with Him. I would like to comfort others with the comfort that He has given me: "who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble , with the "customized" comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." II Cor. 1:4

Am I through the valley? No, I'm not. There is still a long walk ahead. I know that. In the "old days" women wore black for a year when they were mourning a lost loved one. That seems like a long time to wear black clothes but grief takes a long time. I've learned that. Maybe, after a year, my heart will reach into its closet, throw the black mourning veils in the hamper and clothe itself in colors again. Meanwhile I continue day by day to follow my friend's wise counsel and to lean into the pain finding that God's comfort is real and underneath are His Everlasting arms.

Aslon has been there and He is healing. I am listening, perhaps, maybe..... I hear the trickling stream and Narnia is starting to melt.

Ode to Christmas 2010

Christmas Day, 2010. I am in a plane flying to Dallas to attend the funeral of my sixteen year old grandson. He was killed two days ago when the Mazda 6 that he was driving crossed the median and sideswiped a semi. Nick had his driver's license for three weeks. By the time the helicopter got him to the hospital, he had gone to be with Jesus.

I look down from the plane window and see the neatly blocked streets of Milwaukee far below. They are covered with snow like a Christmas card picture. I think about all the people in the houses celebrating Christmas. I picture them opening packages, laughing at funny gifts, and watching their childrens' delight as they unwrap their special presents.

Some of the houses have cars parked in front of them and in their driveways - evidence of happy gatherings inside. I imagine the smells of platters filled with turkey and ham wafting through the rooms. Every year I cook too - pies, brownie bars, whatever my family likes. It gives me great joy. But not this year. That has been suddenly snatched away.

As I stare down, I wonder how the families in each house celebrate Christmas Eve? We always dim the lights and read the Christmas story. Everytime the word angel appears, the grandchildren take turns lighting candles symbolizing the verse, "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light." Pretty soon the dark room is aflame with light. But not this year.

Charlie and I didn't open any presents this morning. We were packing hastily - rushing to catch the 12:30 pm flight to Dallas. Our one thought - get to our family whose loss is so great! As we hurried out the door, I glanced back at our darkened kitchen. No good smells, no Christmas dishes, no decorated table waiting for friends. This year our house was a way station on Christmas Eve. We thought we were going to celebrate two weeks with our Alaska family. That's what we thought until Thursday, December 23rd at 5:30 pm when we got the telephone call that said - not this year.

My thoughts go back to that evening - grieving and phoning - grieving and phoning. Family to call, loved ones calling back. "My son, my son, how can we be so far away at such a time?" Hearing the grief and pain in his voice and my Texas daughter-in-love's sobs, intensifies the already indescribable pain in my heart.

Miraculously we are booked on a 6 am flight Christmas Eve day from Anchorage to Minneapolis. Two hours sleep and it is 1:30 am. Time to dress and have our son drive us to the airport. For an hour and a half we talk - we share rambling thoughts. We watch four moose passing us in the cold Alaskan night. I remember that seeing them used to excite me. But not this year. I am too numb to register more emotion.

At 3:45 we arrive at the airport and are told that we can have seats together if we sit in the very last row. We don't care, we don't want to be separated at such a time. We both search our bibles for the comfort of the Scriptures. Lord, give us strength - special verses for Nick-anything that will help us get through this agony. As we read, the peace that passes all understanding begins to descend. We write the verses down. I look up to see the man in the window seat next to Charlie watching us. Charlie and he start talking. He is a ship's captain in charge of huge boats that carry cargo from Alaska to Japan. He tells us that he was at sea when he got a telephone call that his sister had died. He said, "What do you do when you are in the middle of the ocean and you get such a call?" We told him that the telephone also rang for us and that's why we were leaving Alaska the day before Christmas. After we had talked, we gave him the Four Spiritual Laws. He took it and read it from cover to cover then carefully zipped it into his leather seaman's jacket pocket. He wasn't supposed to be in that seat - someone had asked him to trade. We weren't supposed to be in our seats. Or were we all three supposed to be there? Was his possible conversion a good fruit from Nick's physical death? Maybe this year he will come to know Jesus. I wonder at God's grace shining in the midst of our darkness.

We arrive in Minneapolis at 2:30 pm. The van from the Country Suites picks us up. "Why are you traveling so late on Christmas Eve Day?" the driver askes us. We tell him and he shares that his son has cancer. He says, "You told me your trouble, I tell you mine." We knew what he was saying. The glitter of Christmas was all around us, but each of our hearts had great needs that tinsel could never fill. Not this year.

We drive the five hours from Minneapolis to home. Christmas Eve - snow falling, slippery roads, wrecker trucks pulling people out of the ditches, but my mind sees one wrecker truck pulling a black Mazda off of a Texas highway. We stop at McD's for a bite. Who are all these people standing in line for fast food on Christmas Eve? Are they traveling for dreadful reasons too? My mind is frozen like the landscape around us. I cannot smile at them - certainly not ask a personal question.

We get home and unpack our Alaska suitcases and make flight arrangements to Dallas for the next day, Christmas Day. Sleeping in my own bed for one night, my last thought is "No candles being lit tonight. No Nick laughing and striking a match as he hears the word 'angel.' But wait! Isn't he seeing the angels as he spends his first Christmas in heaven? Are they the angels who appeared to the shepherds when the Savior was born in Bethlehem? Is he asking them? Ah, Nick, Nick, what are you doing right now?"

My mind returns to the present. Soon I will see the neighborhoods of Dallas-Fort Worth - not snow covered and cold like in Milwaukee - but each house will be celebrating Christmas. My eyes will search for only one - a home where they opened gifts this morning and tried to continue on. A home with unopened presents under the tree labeled "To Nick." A home that now has three teenagers instead of four. How sad can life get?

The plane flies on to our destination. We are nearly there but I can't see the activity below. We are above the clouds and the sun is shining blindingly bright all around us. "Is this how bright the Shekinah Glory shines in heaven, Nick?" I wonder. "Jesus, the angels, God on His great throne. You are seeing and experiencing it all this year."

For an instant, looking out at the brilliant sun, I am there with him. The wonder of eternal life surrounds me. Then I hear the sound of the wheels going down and our plane descends to land. The clouds swirl around us and all is grey again. The trials and afflictions of this present world encumber us as before. But I have seen the upperside and God has reminded me that my grandson is truly alive. "He is not dead for He has risen!" Nick is above the clouds looking down at God's great canvas of eternity. He has fought the good fight, he has finished the race - this year.

We rent our car and drive toward Crowley. Our family is there.

Other Christmases may come and go with new joys and sorrows but we wont forget this year of our Lord 2010. We do not know what future Christmases will bring but we do know that we shall never be the same - not after this year.